Chapter Text
The cheesecake on the counter is telling him to commit a crime.
Jisung has been sitting in front of the counter, idly scrolling through his phone with the slow WiFi connection holding him back, strongly ignoring the rumbling of his stomach. It's not going well. He keeps eyeing all the sweets on display and, inevitably, he always ends up with his mouth watering at the prospect of getting a tiny slice of his favorite dessert.
His bank account can't afford that at the moment. Not when he still has a debt to pay to the college he dropped out from and a rent due in the next three days. Jisung thought that three jobs and no more slaving at a school that was making him cry every day would ease his expenses, he wasn't contemplating that his landlord would raise his rent and charge a quota to reinforce security in the apartment complex. He also hadn't predicted the massive folder that arrived at his front door with every cent his parents had spent on him written in detail, another debt to pay.
When he got out of his parents' house, he knew what he was getting himself into, understood that leaving meant earning his own money for more than buying a new phone or fixing the one he already had. It meant paying taxes, cooking for himself, learning to move around an unknown city, surround himself with a completely different situation and exposing himself to them constantly. It also meant wearing whatever he wanted, eating food that didn't make his nerves spike, collecting rocks without the fear of them getting thrown out, and washing his clothes with the detergent he found bearable.
It was, and still is, a struggle. But he's happier. No one dictates his life anymore and he doesn't have anyone breathing at his neck telling him all the ways he's abnormal. He knows he's not, he works enough on that aspect of his life to accept it when he's alone and secluded from the eyes of people who think alike to his parents. He accepts that being autistic isn't something to be ashamed of, it doesn't mean that the rest of the world is going to be benevolent about it.
Which is the reason he's currently working in a hidden corner of the city, devoid of loud noises or extremely stressful situations.
The night shift at the coffee shop has always been a boring, monotonous and dull experience. Out of all his jobs, the afternoons he works at the library sorting out books and putting them on racks is his favorite, the help he provides at the small in-house bakery down the street from his apartment in second place. There's something about learning a skill and doing it the same every time that puts Jisung at ease; nothing can go wrong when you already know the exact movements to knead dough.
He tried a variety of jobs and combinations in his first weeks in the city, after living so long in a secluded area where everyone knew each other, the chance of scenery was too overwhelming at first. He learned soon enough that working retail wasn't a good idea, not even close to his past experiences of mildly annoying customers and people who asked concerning things. He met the worst of humankind in those three weeks.
Once he escaped that situation, he moved until he found himself in his current situation. Working the counter at night isn't that bad, even if it leaves his sleeping schedule scrambled, he has things to look forward to. The clock hits four am and now it's a matter of waiting. The tired looking man always comes sometime before five am, a laptop case swinging by his shoulder, big headphones around his neck and all black clothes.
Chan introduced himself to Jisung the third time he came into the shop while Jisung was working, making small conversation and gifting him with a tired smile and generous tips. He didn't seem to mind Jisung's lack of practice with social interaction and awkward silences he didn't know how to break, always carrying the conversation on his own while Jisung prepared his hot chocolate. After that, he was off with the promise of coming back.
It's been a while since the first interaction and still Jisung can't find the courage to ask why he comes by so late. Can't ask anything, if he's being honest, all he knows about Chan is his name, that he's older than him and he lives with more than two people, Jisung doesn't know if the other is expecting for him to ask questions about his personal life or if he's only a pleasant acquaintance Chan made at four am.
Either way, it's nice to talk to someone who isn't his boss or landlord.
When the bell at the door rings signaling a customer, Jisung looks up already knowing who's going to be. He doesn't expect to see Chan accompanied by another man —short, dark haired and wearing a pink shirt— trailing behind him, talking in a whiny and tired tone.
Jisung rubs his hands on his legs and puts on his customer voice when they reach the counter, Chan already smiling at him, "Good morning, what can I get for you?" Jisung forces himself to make eye contact with both of them and sees Chan blink at him in repetitive succession.
"There's nothing good about mornings." Short guy grumbles, leaning into Chan's side. He doesn't seem bothered by it and simply sighs at his comment.
Jisung is at a loss by the situation and fumbles to type down their orders. Chan is the one who gets his wallet out to pay, doesn't even make a comment about how the other man isn't going to pay for his own drink. It's weird how there's no hesitance in their movements, as if it's a practiced thing.
"You can sit at one of the tables while you wait, I'll be there soon with your drinks."
When Jisung turns with the drinks in hand, Chan has his laptop open on the table and a bunch of papers spread around, Short guy is hunched over watching something on his phone and tapping a pencil against his cheek. Seems like they're gonna stay around then, Jisung heads towards them.
Chan is already moving papers around and looking up at Jisung, "How are things going, Jisungie?" He says as he goes to grab his hot chocolate, never straining his eyes from him. Jisung squirms and risks a glance to Short guy who's already looking at him.
"It's been alright." he scrambles for something else to say, a blush already heating up his face. He's saved by Chan's friend snapping his fingers and slamming a hand on the table, making Jisung flinch.
"You're Jisung the barista guy! No wonder Hyung wanted us to come all the way here at this hour! I'm Changbin," the boy smiles at him and moves to another chair, patting down the one he just vacated, "Come sit."
"Has Chan-Hyung been bothering you too much? It's okay, you can tell me, I know how he can be." Jisung frowns, he doesn't think that Chan is bothersome, quite the opposite, he has been nothing but nice to him. He feels the need to defend Chan against the accusations.
"Of course not, he always keeps me company when I'm working. Chan-ssi has been really nice." He sits a little straighter and beams, Changbin snorts.
"Yeah, I can tell," Jisung realizes he's being sarcastic too late and his blush from embarrassment grows. Chan throws a napkin at Changbin, making him snicker. "I'm just saying! You're not even on Hyung-dongsaeng basis."
Changbin keeps cracking up. Jisung feels like he's intruding into a dynamic he's not welcome, his hands rub absentmindedly against the harsh material of his jeans and smiles a little. He wants to stand up and leave but he doesn't know how to voice it without coming off as rude or disrespectful. He stays seated where he is.
"You can call me Hyung, Jisung, I thought we were past that." He didn't. Using 'Hyung' is a form of respect for someone you consider close, a friend or a family member. Jisung doesn't think he's on that level to Chan, yet the thought of being a friend to him makes him smile. He nods.
Because he's looking at the table, he doesn't expect the arm Changbin suddenly wraps around his shoulders. Jisung immediately tenses. He grips his thighs harshly enough to feel the sting and keep himself from scooting away from him. He catches Chan's eyes and tries to ask for help without actually having to say it, he must look too much of some emotion because Chan reacts instantly.
"Bin, quit it, you're making him uncomfortable," Not what he wanted. Now Changbin is going to feel bad and it'll be Jisung's fault, "I'm sorry for him, he has no concept of personal space."
Jisung shakes his head, he opens his mouth to reassure them both that he's fine but he's interrupted by them bickering again. They say some stuff that seems rather hurtful to Jisung, however, they only laugh between sips of what they ordered, sometimes including Jisung into whatever they're saying by making questions that seem like an effort to make small talk.
He doesn't understand their dynamic, he pays attention to how they move and the way words leave their mouths yet it remains a mystery by the time he decides to get up and excuse himself, uttering some half-assed explanation about cleaning a coffee machine. Both of them say goodbye with big smiles, Changbin even tells him to call him Hyung too and that he had a good time with him.
It feels like a lie. The type that people do when their feelings are different but they seem obligated to make some compliment to be polite, similar to when you get offered food you don't like but say thank you and eat it anyway because that's what you're supposed to do. Jisung smiles and plays along. This is something he knows how to do. He returns the words, laughs a little and tries to look content. They seem satisfied and Jisung leaves, his smile dropping as soon as he's behind the door of the staff's room.
Jisung finishes his shift more tired than usual, wistfully thinking of his bed and the sleep he can squeeze on before he has to leave for the library.
He has his headphones swung around his neck when he leaves his apartment that afternoon, turning to lock the door and stopping short by the sheet of paper taped to it.
A notice of eviction.
It's announced in big, bold letters. Jisung's heart speeds up, he quickly rips the paper off and starts frantically reading through it. He does it twice, thrice until the realization that he's getting thrown out of the apartment hits. It can't be possible. He still has three days to pay the month's rent, he knows this, he keeps a calendar on his phone so he never forgets.
Even if he checked yesterday, he pulls out his phone to make sure, being met by the proof that he's right. He still has time. Jisung enters his apartment, ignoring the fact that he's probably late for work now and simply sinks to the floor. He hugs his legs close to his chest and lets out a shaky breath, his headphones digging uncomfortably against his chin when he starts rocking back and forth.
He's not going to freak out, he can't, he has to pull himself together and call his landlord as soon as possible. He can't end up homeless. He has nowhere to go and surely getting another place to live so quickly isn't going to work out. He doesn't know if he can even get something in short notice, he planned out renting this particular apartment for months before he even told his parents he was leaving.
He's not ready for this. He's not even prepared for an impromptu phone call, how is he supposed to get a plan set in motion in less than three days and still attend all his jobs? If he really has to move out, how much time does he have? He needs to make a list of all his things so he doesn't forget to pack anything, needs to rearrange his money finances to fit the current situation, he probably has to move laundry day for today. He has so much to do and there is no time, what is he going to do? What can he do?
He allows himself time to rock, occasionally humming to feel the vibrations against his chest and throat. Slowly making the overwhelming feelings go away until he's able to stop, now running his hands on his jeans as usual. He's not less lost as before, not less terrified, but Jisung knows that no one is going to find solutions or make important calls for him, the only person he can rely on is himself and, somehow, it has to be enough.
He takes a look at the time and decides the priority is to call in to work to explain he's not going to make it. He'll decide his course of action based on the response he gets. He opens the note section on his phone where he wrote the basic points to follow in a phone call, adding slight modifications where he needs them, reading through it multiple times until he feels confident.
He must sound desperate and miserable because his boss is quick to reassure him, telling him not to worry and to get the issue settled. Jisung breathes a little easier after that, even if he wants to throw his phone out the window and never have to deal with it again.
He ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach and gets up from his curled up position to start pacing around, deliberately shaking his hands where he can see the movement. The ideal thing to do now would be to bury himself under the couch cushions, in an attempt to stop his body from feeling heavy and itchy all over, to give his mind a little peace. Yet, he also knows that in doing so, all attempts at communication can be forgotten. He needs quiet, stability and pressure, he's getting none of those.
Tears of frustration make their way up to his eyes and he flaps his hands with more force, smacks the palm of his hand against the center of his forehead five times, and forces the tears away. The next step is clear, preventing him from moving on to another task until he has the answers he needs.
That doesn't make it easier. He spends 35 minutes writing down and rehearsing his words, the polite tone in his voice ever present as well as the formalities he needs to keep in mind, if he's disrespectful it could mess up with his chances of a peaceful conversation.
He grabs his phone, no less on edge after already doing one call, the mere prospect of speaking and having to keep a façade again makes his heart pound against his chest in anxiety.
He makes the call. He counts three rings until he hears someone respond with a greeting in the other line.
"Hello, I'm Han Jisung from apartment 12B and I'm calling to ask about the notice of eviction left at my door."
The man on the other line sighs, Jisung's nerves amplify, "Is there a problem?"
"There seems to be a mistake, sir, my rent is due for Sunday and I have no record of missing a payment, I'm sure that-" he's almost proud of himself for talking so well until his landlord interrupts him.
"There was no mistake, I'm expecting you to vacate the apartment as soon as possible." The knot in his stomach grows. He's gonna get sick.
"B-but I still have time to pay! I'll get the money when it's due."
"Not by the new policy."
"What? What new policy?" Jisung moves to the door of his apartment, frantically searching through his ignored mail in search for some advice he missed. He knows there's nothing on his email, he checks it periodically.
"Everyone received a notification about it. There's nothing I can do for you, I already rented your place to someone else."
Jisung's world tilts. This can't be happening. Not to him, please, let it not be real.
"But sir-"
"I expect you to have your things out by tomorrow morning and leave the keys in my office or I'll get someone to throw what you own in the street. Have a good day."
The line goes dead. Jisung falls apart.