Archive of Our Own

Everybody always said he would his path.

So Kim Jongin moved to a new town. He moved into a new apartment. He got a new dog, a super cute one in fact. He started over fresh because he felt like he was stuck.

But coming here, he found his path.

Or he found a path at least.

This new job was simple enough. Every morning he would go in and pick up a little device. It was a handheld computer that controlled the stock numbers for every item in the huge, huge department store that Jongin worked for. All he had to do was sign in and press start.

It would ask him how many people were on his team, but he was the only one, so his answer was always one. And the next thing that popped up was an aisle number.

A1.

So every morning he would walk over to A1, which was the beginning of the cleaning supplies and he would follow the shelf number until it got him where he needed to be. A bottle of dish soap, or windex, or a sponge. All he had to do was scan it and say how many there were and then he was off to the next thing or the next aisle.

It didn’t always go to A2, sometimes it went to A4 or A18 if there was nothing in between there. Then once he finished A, he went to B and so on and so forth. To many this might sound like a monotonous waste of time, but to Jongin this was his job and he loved it dearly.

Growing up, he’d never been good at school. Unfortunately he lacked the passion for it. He preferred dancing, but that hardly made a living so even though he taught classes at the gym next door, he had to supplement his income.

After every dance class he would smile at the room full of mostly women, some there for the dance, others there to watch him dance and dismiss them. He’d take a shower and towel off, change his uniform, and walk next door to the department store to count.

The way that he went to count things was his path.

It went from A to B to C to D to E to F. It never changed, though what he found on it would. Sometimes he would have a great deal of baby wipe packages to count. Sometimes he would have to change things in the system because it’s set up different on the shelf. Things were constantly changing and he loved to keep up with it.

The people liked him too.

The guy at the Deli named Kyungsoo always made him fun sandwiches, sometimes he didn’t even charge him. The kid in electronics named Junhui always did something strange out of boredom that made Jongin laugh. Even the security guy, Yifan, who loomed almost a foot taller than him it seemed, had a secret handshake that only they knew.

Chanyeol, one of the cashiers, always asked him out for drinks. And sometimes Jongin went too.

It didn’t help him feel like he’d found his path, though.

Every day, he gets to the end of the path. F70, or the long wall of TVs lining the electronics department, would meet him with a gentle set of numbers. He’d scan them quickly and watch the reticule spin for a moment before the message displayed:

Sometimes he could go home after that. Every now and then there were other things to do like go through and scan everything on the shelves that was empty and see if they had any to fill it with. Sometimes he would do other stuff, but he rarely felt like he’d gotten to the end of the path.

Unless the path was leading him to home where he would sit on his couch and listen to Sehun groan about his boyfriend being out of town. Jongin tried not to be offended that his own room mate didn’t find his company appealing, mostly because he knew Sehun was his friend.

So he does it again.

Gets up. Teaches a class. Showers. Changes. Walks. Clocks in. Signs in.

A1.

He waltzes through the aisles like usual. He counts bath bombs and furniture. He counts microwaves and apples. He counts the holes in the ceiling tiles, and the number of things out of place where somebody else forgot to clean up.

And when he starts into F, he knows his path is coming to an end. The numbing mull of repetition beginning to grate on Jongin. He loves the job, but his senses can only take so much monotony before they flicker off like a switch. Even Junhui’s silliness won’t phase him that day.

He hears the general chatter of people along the wall of TVs, there’s always somebody looking for a new one, and they’re always flagging Junhui down for the specs.

Jongin finishes the last batch and looks back at his device, waiting for the reticule to load that he was finally finished.

“Yo.” A guy calls him.

Jongin looks up.

“You work here?” He had a side part that was styled to be out of his vision, a cute round face, made sharper by eyes. Maybe a little older than Jongin, but not by much.

“Uh, yeah.” Jongin nodded.

“Cool.” The guy laughed, “I need your help. There’s this employee that works here and I’m trying to get his number, can you give me a hand?”

“Oh.” Jongin shifted his feet, “I guess so. Which one? Junhui at the boat?”

The guy smiled at him, “The one scanning TVs on the wall.”

Oh.

Jongin smiled back, his own little charms hopping in to cover up what was certainly a blush on his cheeks. “I’m sure he’ll be willing to give it to you.”

“Awesome. I’m Baekhyun by the way.”

The device in his hands dinged.