Chapter Text
Let Jeongguk set the record straight— he doesn’t hate his job, he just hates himself. And that usually means he subjects himself to things he’d rather not do.
Like agreeing to restock the frozen food aisle.
And just like the last three years at the supermarket, he’s debating whether or not running out into the parking lot in front of the oncoming traffic will be enough to not totally end his misery, but enough to get him a workers compensation check and retire for life.
But alas, he shakes the thought off with another sip of his coffee— also a desperate attempt at getting rid of his headache. It feels like something’s been poking him behind his eye sockets for the better part of his morning―a dull stabbing ache that's been refusing to recede despite the three ibuprofens (and cups of coffee) Jeongguk took just before his shift.
In all fairness, Jeongguk did land himself in this mess— he promised Namjoon that he’d do anything to stay away from greeter duty. The last thing he wanted was to smile at customers at 9 in the morning.
At least Jeongguk has his headache to keep him company. The frozen packages of dumplings mock him as he shivers from the cold. He didn’t bring a jacket today, so the only warmth he’s getting is from his neon green uniform. Jeongguk has been at this for the past hour, yet he can’t help but feel like he’s still forgetting something.
“Hey, Jeongguk? Where do these go?” A voice calls down the aisle.
Ah, that’s what he was forgetting.
Kim Taehyung, the new trainee, and Jeongguk’s personal lapdog until further notice. Shoving another frozen box into the freezer, Jeongguk cranes his head over to the trainee, squinting at the package of kimchi he’s waving at him.
Okay, he’s not actually his lapdog, Jeongguk just has the task of showing him around the store and training him until Namjoon trusts Taehyung enough to tell the difference between a banana and a plantain.
“Did you try aisle 7?”
The only response Jeongguk gets is the sound of footsteps across the polished flooring. A few minutes go by, and he hears the other call out found them!
He hums to himself to distract himself from his constant shivering. He doesn’t usually hate restocking the freezer aisle shelves, but considering he has nothing to fend the cold and the fact that it’s 7 a.m on a Tuesday should be enough grounds for Jeongguk to contemplate murder.
The silence doesn’t last. He hears Taehyung before anything else, the soft thudding of his footsteps across the linoleum flooring being enough to set Jeongguk off for the day.
“Can I help you with anything else?” He lets out a huff of frustration when he still feels the pair of eyes peering at him from across the aisle.
“You look tired,” Taehyung says curiously, almost concerned. Jeongguk jumps at the close proximity of his voice, unaware that the trainee was right next to him.
Jeongguk scoffs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
Taehyung’s cheeks glow red in embarrassment, realizing the words didn’t come out quite right. “Oh, god I’m sorry— I mean, did you want me to grab you a coffee, or some water?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” He finally looks up at Taehyung. “Feel free to get something for yourself though,” he mumbles.
“Thanks,” Taehyung utters. “Also, I’m not sure if you know already but there’s a meeting at eight. Namjoon just sent out a text message to the group chat.”
Jeongguk groans. “Alright, thank you.”
“Yeah! I’m gonna go to the back room, I’ll be back soon,” Taehyung says awkwardly, finally moving away from Jeongguk.
Sighing in frustration, Jeongguk’s head makes contact with the glass of the freezer with a resounding thud — only worsening his headache.
He’s barely gotten through half of the boxes and it’s already seven-forty-five, meaning he has about fifteen minutes until the meeting and another five until the rest of the team rushes in through the front doors. However, his thoughts are put to a halt when the shrieking squeak of the poorly-oiled front sliding doors resounds throughout the supermarket, signaling the first worker of the day.
“Store meeting,” Hoseok's groggy voice croaks out to no one in particular.
He’s met with Jeongguk’s discontented grunting— both a greeting and a confirmation that he’s still alive somewhere in the aisles.
The door squeaks again, this time revealing a disgruntled Yoongi and Jimin with coffee cups in hand.
Hoseok nods hello to them. They both groan in response.
“What the hell is this meeting for anyway?” Jimin whines.
“Dunno,” Hoseok yawns. “Namjoon said something about falling behind in sales and lost products . Whatever that means.”
“You don’t think he found out about the chocolate fountain, do you?” Jimin panics.
“I don’t think anyone hasn’t not found out about the chocolate fountain,” Jeongguk snorts, shuffling through the box of frozen cheese dogs to file neatly into the freezer.
Jimin narrows his eyes. “I wonder if he knows you ‘accidentally’ used the company card to fuel your gambling addiction.”
Jeongguk sputters. “Gacha is not gambling.”
“Of course, and I get paid enough to be here,” Yoongi muses, trying to hide his grin into his coffee cup as he takes a sip.
The sliding doors let out one final shriek, this time to reveal a very peppy-looking Seokjin next to a very not-peppy Namjoon.
“Morning team!” Seokjin chirps. “Excited for the meeting today?”
He’s met with a cacophony of disgruntled groans.
“That’s the spirit.”
They’re all gathered in the frozen foods aisle now, huddled around Jeongguk and talking— or grunting— about nothing in particular.
Jeongguk never really understood the need for a supermarket to open at the ass crack of dawn. Who buys groceries at 7 a.m on a Tuesday and why did he have to be the one helping them out?
“Oh, morning everyone!” Taehyung peeks out from the backroom— they leave the door propped open before opening hours to save them from the hassle of shoving the heavy door open. He stops next to Hoseok, who eyes the cup of coffee in his hand.
“Coffee?” He offers the cup with a jittery arm. When Hoseok looks at him with a quirked brow, Taehyung responds with, “this is my fourth cup.”
“On second thought, I’d love a cup of coffee,” Hoseok rushes, grabbing the cup from Taehyung’s grasp.
Namjoon furrows his brows, stepping away from Hoseok and Taehyung to make his way over to Jeongguk. “Jeongguk, how's restock coming along?”
“It’s going somewhere,” Jeongguk responds, eyeing the overflowing cart of remaining merchandise he has left to refill. “Just not sure where,” he finishes under his breath.
“Well, I’ll see you all in the conference room in about,” he pauses to look at his watch, “right now.”
Another cacophony of groans sounds through the aisle. Too lazy to walk, Jeongguk opts to use the shopping cart to move forward, kicking his right foot back as he slides across the aisle.
###
"I'd like to thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to attend this meeting―"
"You threatened us with another associate talent show if we didn't attend," Jimin interrupts, rolling his eyes as he leans back in his chair.
Yoongi furrows his brows."What was wrong with the talent show?"
"Chronologically naming every event in World War II does not count as a talent,” Jeongguk groans and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off his headache. He thinks Yoongi’s saying something but he’s too tired to listen.
The conference room is barely a conference room— it’s literally the lunch table cramped into the corner of the break room. They didn’t have an official conference room, so everything in the backroom was sectioned off into corners. The kitchen-slash-meeting room was in one corner, the corner by the washroom had a ping pong table in front of it (meant for employee mental care), and the corner furthest from the wall was the meditation corner.
Jeongguk vaguely remembers asking Seokjin about getting an actual conference table instead, but Seokjin merely brushed it off to “budget cuts” and “building character.”
Whatever that meant.
So instead, Jeongguk is currently wedged beside Taehyung and the side of the fridge— the unknown scent emanating from it doesn’t exactly help Jeongguk’s headache either.
"As I was saying," Namjoon grits his teeth, clicking his nails against the hard plastic of the table in impatience.
"Yeah, why are we here?" Hoseok, who's been fiddling with the three buttons of his uniform for the last ten minutes, chirps out.
“Okay fine,” Jimin whines. “I bought the chocolate fountain, but it was Yoongi’s idea!”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Isn’t that an American thing?” Hoseok quips, still fiddling with the buttons. Seokjin scoffs from beside him and grabs Hoseok’s sleeve from him to button it himself.
“I don’t know, I failed history,” Seokjin mentions. “Sounds like an American thing.”
“You’re not taking away our casual Fridays, right? Because I just bought this new pair of pants that make my ass look—”
"May I continue?" Namjoon smiles tightly. A beat of silence passes over the conference table. "Okay so, I've brought you all here to review the business for the past year. Reviewing some figures, charts— oh and we also need to discuss where the hell a huge sum of our own funds went." Namjoon finishes, furrowing his brows as he flips through the papers in front of him.
They all freeze as they hear Namjoon’s concerns about the lost funds. So maybe they did more than just buy a chocolate fountain and fuel Jeongguk’s not-gambling addiction. It was more of an accumulation of forgotten lunches, broken toasters, and the "special" coffee capsules that Yoongi especially liked.
In Jeongguk's defence, he only broke one of the toasters.
"Don't we also have to plan the semi-annual work party?" Jimin stutters. Jeongguk rolls his eyes at the pathetic attempt at changing the topic.
"Is it really semi-annual if we throw one every other week?" Yoongi snorts.
Namjoon ignores their argument and proceeds with the meeting. “Corporate’s been down my throat for our loss in sales. Turns out, the branch in Itaewon is making double of whatever we made in the last two years combined.”
“That’s unfair, they have twice the traffic as us,” Yoongi pipes in.
“You try telling that to a group of money-hungry capitalists,” Namjoon smiles tightly. “They aren’t firing anyone yet, but I’ve been advised to keep an extra eye on all of you. I’ll be hovering over some of you this week,” he pauses to glare at Jimin and Hoseok, “so just pretend I’m not here.”
“Easier said than done,” Hoseok retorts. “So casual Fridays aren’t going anywhere? What about monochrome Mondays?”
“We never agreed on monochrome Mondays,” Jimin rolls his eyes.
Hoseok pouts. “But I’ve been following that dress code for months.”
“We didn’t have the heart to tell you otherwise,” Yoongi dismisses with the wave of a hand. “Plus, it was kind of funny seeing you in tracksuits.”
“Our uniforms are already fluorescent green, why would we agree to monochrome Mondays?”
“Well excuse me for being caught up with the latest trends,” Hoseok scoffs.
"Are meetings usually like this?” Taehyung leans over to whisper at Jeongguk. The trainee’s eyes were wide with worry, it’s amusing for Jeongguk to see him so confused.
The sound of a palm slapping against the plastic of the table echoes through the kitchen.
“I killed it!” Seokjin triumphs, lifting his hand to reveal the remains of a mosquito splattered on his palm and on the table.
Jeongguk regards him with a look before sighing. “You get used to it.”
###
The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur. Jeongguk has been zoning in and out for the better part of the hour— the only thing keeping him from falling asleep is Taehyung’s fingers incessantly tapping against the table, which in return has him shuffling against Jeongguk’s shoulder every few seconds.
“...Right, Jeongguk?” Namjoon calls out, leaning against the break room’s kitchen table.
Jeongguk stumbles over his words before stuttering an “of course,” not quite knowing what he was agreeing to.
“Perfect! Meeting adjourned. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office. Thanks again, Jeongguk. You’re the best.”
Everyone shuffles out of the room as they grumble out their goodbyes. Jeongguk hears what he assumes is a body hitting the floor with a thud and a chorus of snickering, when he looks up all he sees is Hoseok clutching his knee in pain on the floor and Jimin just above him— his expression somewhere in between concern and amusement.
“Is he okay?” Yoongi snorts.
“Just fine!” Hoseok announces, voice wavering as he lifts himself off the floor with a stagger.
Jeongguk laughs dryly just before turning to Taehyung. “What the hell did I just agree to?” He asks through gritted teeth.
“Coffee run,” Taehyung stretches as they make their way out of the kitchen. “And I’m coming with you.”
“You are?”
“Yep.”
“Wonderful.”
###
“That meeting went better than I expected. I thought Namjoon was going to cancel our Halloween parties, or worse, tell us to do our jobs for once,” Seokjin hums.
“He kind of did, though. He said it himself, he’s gonna be breathing down our necks for the next couple of weeks to make sure we’re doing what we’re supposed to be doing.” Jimin leans against the kitchen counter, holding his mug of coffee to his chest.
Yoongi and Jimin had stuck around the kitchen after the meeting ended. It was the usual for them— loiter around the kitchen and talk amongst themselves until their shifts finally start. However, they clocked in about an hour ago so their little hangout was more or less just them wasting time.
“He’s already been hovering over me because of Taehyung, can’t imagine how much worse it can get.” Jeongguk gets up from the break table to get a yogurt cup from the fridge.
“That’s Seokjin’s,” Yoongi points out as Jeongguk rips open the top of the cup.
“And now it’s mine.” Jeongguk raises his wrist to look at the time as he swallows down a mouthful of strawberry yogurt. “Fuck, I gotta go. Coffee run with Taehyung.”
“Namjoon was serious about that? Fuck, I’ve been drinking Jimin’s shitty coffee this entire time,” Yoongi scowls and hastily gets up to pour his cup, and the entire coffee pot, down the sink.
“Wait, speaking of Taehyung,” Jimin chirps. “How is everything with him?”
Jeongguk furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Is he nice?”
“He’s alright,” Jeongguk shrugs. “Kinda annoying how he follows me around everywhere, though. He acts like he’s obsessed with me.”
Maybe Jeongguk was being harsh about his judgment with Taehyung. But in his defense, the trainee is already acting as if he’s good friends with him, which was a little unsettling for someone as introverted as Jeongguk. He wasn’t used to the constant slew of questions— ranging from what’s your favorite cereal to do you think I can fit this entire hot dog in my mouth (the answer was yes to that one) ?
It was all very foreign to Jeongguk. He’d never trained anyone prior to Taehyung mostly because it was way out of his pay grade, but ever since his promotion to shift supervisor— which was just a fancy term for Namjoon’s personal assistant— he had to take up the responsibility.
“Is that so?” Yoongi snickers.
Usually, Jeongguk would brush off Yoongi’s sly remarks, but his tone irks him this time— as if he’s insinuating something about him and Taehyung. Which totally isn’t an issue to Jeongguk, but he’s just curious.
Jeongguk narrows his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Yoongi laughs. “Maybe he likes you.”
Jeongguk freezes for a moment, he hasn’t really taken that into consideration just yet. He just thought Taehyung was just really nice. But Taehyung wasn’t gay... was he? There was no way that he was actually into Jeongguk. Not to mention that would be rude and a gross stereotype if Jeongguk were to just assume his gay colleague was in love with him. Jeongguk wasn’t assuming anything, he was just… curious.
“Wait a minute— You said you liked my coffee!” Jimin sputters.
“I also said I liked the idea of having matching outfits.”
Jimin murmurs something indiscernible into his cup, doing his best not to grimace at the watered-down bean juice (Jeongguk refuses to call it coffee).
Jeongguk rolls his eyes and decides to drop the subject once he looks at his watch. “I’m gonna be late, see you guys later!”
“Have fun with your boyfriend,” Jimin teases in a sing-song tone, causing Yoongi to snicker as well.
“He’s not— I’m not even— I don’t have time for this,” Jeongguk fumes, much too tired to be dealing with Jimin and Yoongi.
Jeongguk ends the conversation with a very loud ugh and storms out of the break room and towards the elevator.
Boyfriend? Oh please, he thinks. Yoongi and Jimin have been bothering him about Taehyung ever since he had been introduced to the staff. It started with Jimin commenting on Taehyung’s attractiveness and Jeongguk agreeing with him absentmindedly —a feat that’s quite out of character for him.
And it’s not that Jeongguk necessarily hates Taehyung, it’s just that they're on completely different wavelengths. Where Jeongguk is poised, rational, and aloof, Taehyung is clumsy, baseless, and a little too clingy.
And no, Jeongguk wouldn’t have anything against him if he was gay— because Jeongguk doesn’t even know if Taehyung is gay. In fact, he likes to think he’s as open-minded as the next guy. Hell, half of the office is gay— Jeongguk has grown used to hearing Jimin’s many stories about his one-night stands and has overheard Seokjin and Hoseok one too many times in the staff washroom. But Taehyung’s been working with the supermarket for only two months now, so Jeongguk doesn’t want to accidentally say something to offend him, hence the feelings of apprehension. He jokes around with the rest of the office all the time, so he’s in this odd limbo of not knowing if he should tip-toe around Taehyung or act comfortable.
He’s definitely going to tip-toe.
Before Jeongguk is able to leave the break room, the washroom doors swing open and a very disheveled Seokjin and Hoseok step out together— as Hoseok buttons up his shirt, Seokjin smooths his hair down quickly and shoots a quick nod towards Jeongguk.
“You’re both disgusting,” Jeongguk scoffs.
“That’s homophobic,” Hoseok points out with no real malice in his tone.
“What? No, it’s not!” Jeongguk sputters, panicked. “You just defiled the bathroom… again!”
“Nice to see you too, Jeongguk,” Seokjin smiles, patting Jeongguk on the shoulder as he heads out onto the sales floor.
“Have a good day with your boyfriend, yeah?” Hoseok says as he scurries out, following close behind Seokjin.
“He isn’t even— oh my god.” Jeongguk throws his arms in the air in frustration. The throbbing ache at the base of his skull seems to make its return, this time with a much stronger stabbing sensation. “I’m not gay!” He yells into the now empty corridor.
Jeongguk rolls his eyes and hurries out of the store's backdoor to meet Taehyung down by the parking lot, he inhales deeply, bracing himself for the rest of his day.
“Hey, who the fuck ate my yogurt?” A voice booms down the corridor, causing Jeongguk to pick his pace up as he moves towards the lot.
###
“You’re late,” Taehyung pouts, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He looks at his watch. “We might get stuck in traffic on the way.”
Jeongguk sighs in frustration, which causes Taehyung to widen his eyes in concern— or fear. Jeongguk can’t quite tell.
“Sorry. There was a line for the bathroom,” he snips, not wanting to drag on the conversation any longer than it needs to be. Jeongguk can tell that Taehyung’s eyeing him. He just wishes that he’d be a little less obvious in his staring.
Sighing, the elder starts the car.
The drive to the shop is almost agonizing. Taehyung was right— they’re caught in traffic and Jeongguk’s been staring out of his window throughout the whole drive in hopes that Taehyung would take the hint and ignore him. The only thing keeping him from flinging himself out of the passenger side window is the low hum of music coming from the car’s stereo. Taehyung let him take the aux cord.
Traffic finally starts to let up when they make it on the highway. Jeongguk doesn’t tear his eyes away from the window— the streets of Seoul and highrise towers are suddenly much more interesting than they were this morning.
He mentally curses Seokjin for sending them to a coffee shop across the city. When asked why they couldn’t just go to the usual place, the elder had simply shrugged and said that Namjoon wanted to try their tiramisu.
“So, were you born in Seoul?” Taehyung breaks the silence. “Or did you move here?”
Jeongguk doesn’t quite realize he’s being spoken to until Taehyung cranes his head towards him— and away from the road— and gives him an expectant look.
Snapping out of his daze, Jeongguk answers. “I was born in Busan. Moved up here a few years ago after graduating high school. I’m in college now and this was a decent job in the meantime.”
Taehyung hums, nodding his head thoughtfully as if Jeongguk had given him some meaningful or poetic answer. The awkward silence is a little unsettling at first and has Jeongguk shifting in his seat. His hands are a little damp which has him rubbing them on his dress pants as a pathetic attempt at drying them.
Realizing he’d rather not deal with the awkward silence, Jeongguk reciprocates the question. “What about you?”
Taehyung perks up as if he’d been waiting for Jeongguk to ask him something. “I also moved here. My family and I are from Daegu. I moved here quite recently, though. It’s been about three months now— oh I love this song,” he cuts himself off.
Truthfully, Jeongguk can’t even name the title of the song. He has a bad habit of downloading an artist's entire album and then never listening to them again.
The conversation had started off bumpy but they eventually found their own rhythm. Like the odd tunes playing now and then on the speakers, Jeongguk finds a melody to their conversation.
Taehyung is an easygoing guy, it seems. Jeongguk learns that his grandparents had a cafe back in Daegu— which is now being run by his parents and younger sister. He also has a feisty two-year-old puppy named Yeontan that gets snippy when Taehyung’s gone for longer than a day. He listens to jazz and his favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry, but he absolutely hates mint chocolate chip— something Jeongguk is also passionate about.
Eventually, their conversation mellows out into a comfortable silence— save for Taehyung humming along to the music every once in a while. Jeongguk checks the map on his phone and notices they’re almost at the destination already.
“How are you liking Seoul so far?” Jeongguk asks, genuinely curious.
Taehyung shrugs. “Things are going well. Working at a supermarket doesn’t exactly let me live it up, but it’s enough to pay my bills. I’m in my last year of college anyway, so my parents are still helping me out. Plus, the people are nice, so there isn’t too much to complain about.”
“That’s good to hear. What are you majoring in?”
“Art history,” he laughs. “Won’t get me very far but it was one of the only things that interested me at the time, plus I was good at it, so why not?”
Jeongguk hums in agreement.
“How about you?”
“Business,” he mutters.
Taehyung shudders. “I’m so sorry.”
“Come on, it isn’t that bad,” Jeongguk laughs. To be fair, he wasn’t the biggest fan of his own major either, but he felt like it was worth defending.
“Tell me about the stock market then.”
“What?” he sputters, confused at the question. “What do you mean?”
“What’s the stock market?” Taehyung stifles a laugh, biting on his laugh to stop himself from cackling. “What is a stock, Jeongguk?”
“Well, there are a few ways to approach the question, there are exchanges and then there’s the OTC market—” he starts but is cut short when Taehyung actually starts laughing. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I honestly could not be bothered to learn about how the stock market works. It’s cute you wanted to explain it, though.”
The teasing comment makes Jeongguk laugh heartily, smacking Taehyung’s arm in feigned annoyance. The elder responds with a giggle, to which Jeongguk rolls his eyes, still laughing.
“Alright alright, I’m sorry. You can tell me all about the stock market another day, maybe when it’s actually safe for me to fall asleep— ow! ” Jeongguk interrupts him with another slap to his arm.
“You’re impossible.”
“No, I’m Taehyung,” he deadpans, leaving Jeongguk to respond with a heavy sigh.
After their fit of giggles dies down, Taehyung continues the conversation. “So how do you like the city? How are you finding it here?”
The question shouldn’t blindside Jeongguk at all because Taehyung’s simply reciprocating the question— it’s small talk. Yet, it takes Jeongguk a moment to get his thoughts together, because truthfully, he doesn’t really like Seoul.
Sure, the people are nice and he’s more than comfortable, but there’s something about living in a city so much bigger than yourself that disorients Jeongguk.
“I work at a grocery store, what’s not to like,” he says sarcastically, then sighs. “Like you said, not much to complain about.”
Taehyung nods. “There’s also a difference between not having anything to complain about and not feeling like you belong, don’t you think?”
“What?” he responds dumbly.
“Like,” Taehyung starts with an airy laugh. “Seoul is a big city. I still get lost in my own neighborhood, but it’s also hard to figure out who you are in a city like this. Especially when everyone here is so sure of who they are. Plus, organizing ramen packets and produce every day doesn’t exactly help us out with anything, does it now?”
Despite Taehyung’s light tone, there’s a sharp edge to his words, as if he’s experienced firsthand whatever he’s alluding to during his short time in the city. And Jeongguk understands what Taehyung is talking about— living in a place so much bigger than you, waking up to days you’re certain the floor of your apartment will swallow you whole— Jeongguk knows these feelings intimately.
Taehyung laughs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so deep during a coffee run.”
“Don’t be,” Jeongguk dismisses. “It’s refreshing, plus I’d take a heart-to-heart over being forced to listen to Seokjin poorly rapping the lyrics to “Loner” any day.”
“Hey, that actually sounds kind of entertaining.”
But of course, Jeongguk makes sure the atmosphere in the car remains light because he barely knows Taehyung and he doesn’t quite want him to know just how affected Jeongguk is by his words. Maybe he’ll save his thoughts for another day.
The rest of the car ride goes by in a blur of random conversations and comfortable silences filled with the humming of the car’s speakers.
“We’re almost there. Do you want me to grab you an extra muffin?”
###
There’s something quite peaceful about the supermarket after hours. The empty aisles, the dimmed down lights, and the headlights of cars peeking through the front doors as they drive by. It’s a space Jeongguk has gotten accustomed to over the years— one of the main reasons he chooses to stay behind so late. He’s in Namjoon’s office right now, since it has the only available computer in the store.
No one was waiting for him at home, so he does his work late into the night without a worry about the time. Namjoon left about an hour ago, sternly telling Jeongguk to not stay too late, but his words fell on deaf ears.
Being a shift supervisor doesn’t come with a lot of duties, so Jeongguk just uses his title as an excuse to draft up next week’s schedule in peace. It’s nice to be away from the otherwise bustling scenery of the grocery store. Plus, he’d take late nights over having to explain how discounts work to a customer any day.
The small digital clock on Namjoon’s desk blinks eleven-thirty— the fluorescent red light it gives off has been straining his eyes for the better part of an hour. Jeongguk decides to turn it around to face the wall of his office to ease his eyes— the only light in the office comes from the computer screen and the street lights peering through the window.
Pulling away from the keyboard for a moment to stretch, Jeongguk groans at the pain blooming at the base of his neck. He takes a second to rub at the area, it works at first, but then the pain begins to flare up after another few moments of typing away.
He’s never been good with time management and has never really known when to properly invest himself. So, Jeongguk chooses to invest himself in his work— this way, he can’t be in the wrong, nor is he wasting any time. His logic isn’t foolproof, but it’s gotten him this far.
If he focuses on work, then that means he isn't thinking about anything else. Because thinking means dealing with his feelings and dealing with his feelings means another headache Jeongguk doesn’t want or need to deal with.
It’s now probably closer to midnight and as Jeongguk types away at the computer, he comes to the conclusion that he shouldn’t be spending his time or energy on anything other than work. On things that would potentially stress him out or lead him to ask Seokjin or Yoongi stupid questions.
Things like Taehyung.
Jeongguk groans, straightening his sore back and grimacing when he hears three consecutive cracks from his spine— he should really see a doctor about that. He calls it a night when he finally deems he’s done enough work for the night and that he finally deserves to go home after the exhausting day.
He doesn’t know what to make of Taehyung just yet. The trainee is an oddball but their conversations never feel like a burden on Jeongguk, nor does he mind answering the mindless questions the other asks. He had initially thought it was uncomfortable, but their time in his car proved otherwise.
Jeongguk drives home that night with his windows down. As he extends his right arm out of his window and feels the cool air slip through his fingers, he briefly wonders if this is the closest he’ll ever feel to being free.
###
Jeongguk had thought he and Taehyung could be decent friends, but he feels the same feeling of heaviness that seems to form in the pit of his stomach every time the intern tries to make conversation with him.
Whether the latter approaches Jeongguk with a coffee in hand or compliments him about his attire (which is odd considering they all wear the same uniform) or asks him to go out for lunch, Jeongguk can’t help but think about what Yoongi had said to him about Taehyung’s maybe-crush on him.
And it wouldn’t be an issue for Jeongguk if Taehyung had a crush on him. But he tells himself he doesn’t want the other to get hurt because Jeongguk isn’t into him— or men in general.
Jeongguk can’t quite put his finger on it— okay, he totally knows the root issue but he can’t bring himself to face his reality.
Maybe Taehyung is into him. That shouldn’t be an issue, right? It isn’t like Jeongguk is a raging homophobe and it’s not like Taehyung’s going to be announcing his love to the world. Hell, Jeongguk still can’t tell if Taehyung is gay. Maybe he’s just Really Nice.
Because Taehyung talks. A lot. The guy can make small talk on just about anything— he talked to Jeongguk about coffee beans for a solid twenty minutes during their coffee run. And Jeongguk is used to rambling— he’s quite introverted, so he’s mastered the technique of smiling and nodding, maybe even inserting the occasional, “Oh really? How interesting.” But, Taehyung actually returns the question back to Jeongguk, seeming genuinely curious about his own personal life.
So, Jeongguk would answer Taehyung’s questions as the latter drove them to the coffee shop across town. Traffic made the usual ten-minute trip into a thirty-minute one, so they got to know quite a bit about each other. Jeongguk can’t remember the last time he spoke that much.
Juggling a job, school, and social life was difficult. Jeongguk was at his wit’s end trying to keep in touch with his school friends and fit in with the rest of the staff at the grocery store. He’s not saying he isn’t friends with his co-workers— working at the supermarket since he was seventeen has made him think that he’s fairly close with all the staff now.
He isn’t going to lie, it felt nice talking to Taehyung. Having someone listen to him as he rambled about anything and everything— how he felt about his job, his home and school life, they even talked about their dogs. Jeongguk is almost certain that Jimin doesn’t even know about Gureum.
Their conversation hit a few nerves for Jeongguk. Never did he expect Taehyung to be so introspective and be able to perfectly articulate what Jeongguk had been struggling with during his time in Seoul— the odd forlorn mixed with a heavy feeling of isolation.
Jeongguk doesn’t know why he can’t stop thinking about Taehyung. It’s a normal Wednesday, and despite the freezing temperature of the backroom, Jeongguk can feel his shirt sticking to his back from sweat. The collar of his shirt feels annoyingly tight despite fiddling with it for the last hour and he can’t figure out why .
And that’s how he’s gotten himself into this mess. He hasn’t spoken to Taehyung in three days and Taehyung probably hates him for it— or worse, he isn’t angry and probably thinks Jeongguk is just shy (which he is, but that isn’t related to the blatant ignoring).
He’s probably anxious because he feels like he overshared. Yeah, that’s definitely it.
“I don’t think anyone’s going to be taking that yogurt cup away from you,” Seokjin voices from the break room’s kitchen counter he's leaning on, pointing to the death grip Jeongguk has on the yogurt cup in hand. “Though, I may or may not still be holding a grudge against you for last week.”
Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk scoffs. “Very funny.”
“Seriously though, you look miserable. If you’re gonna eat my yogurt cups, at least look somewhat lively.”
“Don’t you have better things to do?” Jeongguk teases, shoving another spoonful of yogurt into his mouth.
“Like what?”
“Hoseok,” he deadpans.
“Yeah, we’re planning on doing it on the hood of your car next,” Seokjin scoffs.
Jeongguk ignores his teasing. Seokjin and he have been working together at the supermarket for a few years now. The elder showed him the ropes and walked him through how to not get fired on his first day— mentioning something about bribery and not forgetting to turn on the refrigerating units in the dairy aisle, but Jeongguk can’t quite remember. Given their history, he’s confident Seokjin won’t judge him for his current problems.
“Hypothetically speaking, how can you tell if someone likes you?” he enunciates slowly, looking at Seokjin in an attempt to gauge his reaction— something he’s way too good at concealing. And when he doesn’t really react, just takes another sip of his coffee and nods, well, it’s something Jeongguk has grown accustomed to.
Seokjin quirks a brow. “What are we? Twelve? Does Jeonggukie have a crush?”
A blush settles on Jeongguk’s cheeks. “No, I’ve just been thinking. What if that someone is,” he mumbles the rest of the sentence into his yogurt cup. Seokjin asks him to repeat it once more.
“What if it was a guy,” he says louder, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. His collar feels tighter than it did earlier, which Jeongguk doesn’t know how that’s even possible, given he already felt like he was being suffocated. He feels like he could faint any moment now.
“Interesting,” is all Seokijn says as he downs the coffee in his styrofoam cup and reaches for a refill. “This about Taehyung?”
“What?” Jeongguk sputters, voice trilling higher than he’s used to. He clears his throat before continuing on. “Of course not. Why would you even suggest that?”
Seokjin gives him an unamused glance. “Hm.”
“That’s all you have to say?” he says with more desperation than intended.
He scoffs. “Well, what do you want me to say?”
Good question. What exactly was Jeongguk expecting out of this exchange? He doesn’t know if he wants Seokjin to agree or disagree, he doesn’t know which one would be worse. God, Jeongguk just needs a clear head.
Making sure to place his yogurt cup on the table, he throws his hands in defeat with a sigh— he doesn’t really know what he expected from Seokjin.
“I don’t know, it’s fine. I have some reports I need to get back to.”
“Hold on now— don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Hide in your shell the second you show a little bit of vulnerability,” Seokjin rolls his eyes.
Jeongguk scoffs. “I don’t do that.” Seokjin raises an eyebrow as if to say, are you serious?
“I’ve worked with you for what? Like, three years now? You’ve climbed yourself to the — well not the top, but I guess the middle of the ladder? In that short time, all while juggling a social life and a decent academic life. And you’re still a good person. You move like you’re running out of time. All you know how to do is run, Jeongguk. Not to say that’s a bad thing, but you’re going to run out of breath sooner or later,” he explains gently.
Jeongguk grumbles, pushing his chair back to leave the break room. “Since when did you get so profound?”
“Sometime in between you finishing that cart of restock in an hour and stealing my yogurt cups from the fridge.”
As much as he hates to admit it, there’s a jarring truth to Seokjin’s words. It leaves a bitter taste in Jeongguk’s mouth as he takes in the elder’s words. He’s used to rushing through his days as if he’s living through some race. Maybe ignoring Taehyung is just another form of running for Jeongguk.
Jeongguk doesn’t quite know where ignoring Taehyung is taking him, or what he plans to do with their professional relationship since he has to continue working with Taehyung— avoiding him will only get him so far.
“Seokjin! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” a voice interrupts the tense atmosphere, causing both men to snap their necks towards the door of the break room. “Namjoon’s been looking for you.”
While Seokjin giggles into his coffee at the sight of Taehyung, Jeongguk debates just how hard he needs to hit his head against the table to knock himself out.
“I’m almost done. Are you on break now?” Seokjin muses as Jeongguk nods in confirmation.
“Well, I’ll see myself out then, oh— and Jeongguk?” Seokjin pauses. “Who knows? Maybe you’re just projecting.” He finishes with a shrug as he turns to walk out of the break room.
“Alrighty then,” Taehyung clears his throat before asking, “Is it alright if I sit with you for lunch?”
Who knows, maybe if the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as it was or if Jeongguk hadn’t been ignoring Taehyung for the last few weeks, he would’ve said yes and pulled out a chair. On one hand, he could bite the bullet and sit through this painful exchange, or he could leave the break room and wallow in the bathroom.
He chooses the latter.
Checking his watch, Jeongguk stands abruptly from his seat. “My break just ended, I have to do… paperwork.”
“Paperwork?” Taehyung quirks a brow. “What paperwork?”
“Namjoon wanted me to get a head start on next week’s schedule,” he rushes out. Jeongguk isn’t technically lying but he also isn’t telling the truth— yes, Namjoon asked him about getting a head start on the schedule but he doesn’t need to do that until the end of the month. May as well get a head start now, Jeongguk thinks.
“But the schedule for this month is already out?” he frowns, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yeah, but it’ll be a busy month and all, I need to get an extra head start!” he stutters, praying that Taehyung will drop the subject and let him leave with his dignity still intact.
The excuse seems to suffice for Taehyung as he shrugs his shoulders and visibly relaxes. “Well, good luck with that.”
As Jeongguk walks out of the break room, he realizes two things, one— he forgot his yogurt cup on the table— and two— he’s a coward.
###
“Psst.” Jimin cranes his head down the snacks aisle. “Jeongguk. Psst”
While Jimin had been trying to grab Jeongguk’s attention for the past five minutes, Jeongguk had been actively ignoring him. Jimin’s efforts finally come to a halt after another two minutes of harsh whispering from across the aisle. Instead, Jeongguk hears shuffling coming from his end and then feels something rather hard hit the back of his head.
“What do you want,” Jeongguk sighs, picking up the package of honey butter chips and placing it back on the shelf where it belongs.
“Come to Saturday’s work party,” Jimin says sheepishly as he adjusts the packets of chips on the shelf.
They hold parties every other week. They aren’t really parties at this point— well unless you’d consider Jimin drinking his weight in alcohol and then ceremoniously plopping himself in Yoongi’s lap. Or having to sit through Namjoon drunkenly name his bonsai collection with tears in his eyes.
Jeongguk has managed to avoid them for the most part and he doesn’t really plan on changing that course of action anytime soon. So he doesn’t really understand why Jimin looks shocked when he answers with a succinct “no.”
“Please! Taehyung will be there,” Jimin holds his hands together to beg.
“Oh, well then that changes everything!” Jeongguk’s voice drips in sarcasm.
“Really?” The elder asks hopefully.
“No.” Jeongguk tries to walk away from Jimin so he can continue to pretend to do his job, but Jimin doesn’t let him move, instead t-poses in front of Jeongguk to block off the rest of the aisle. “What are you doing?”
“Come to the party,” he pleads.
“What? No, leave me alone.” Jeongguk turns in the opposite direction, but Jimin stops in front of him once again.
“Please, Seokjin’s bringing pizza.”
“Why do you want me to come so badly?”
“Namjoon wanted a big turnout,” Jimin whines. “Why are you being difficult?”
Jeongguk contemplates the invitation for a brief moment. “I’ll think about it.”
“Yes!” Jimin trills, pumping his fist in triumph. “I’ll see you there.”
“I didn’t say— oh my god,” he groans, realizing Jimin is already skipping down the snack aisle. He watches as the associate skips down the corner of the aisle and groans internally.
He’s not going. No, definitely not. In fact, he’s been avoiding Taehyung for the last three days— ever since their coffee run together. Nothing eventful happened, but ever since his conversations with Jimin, Yoongi, and Seokjin, there’s been a bad taste lingering in his mouth.
Because Jeongguk can’t figure out why he can’t shake Taehyung from his thoughts, no matter how hard he tries. For the last twenty years of his life, he’s always been headstrong— so sure of who he is and where he belongs. But since moving to Seoul, he’s begun to question everything about himself.
In his last twenty years of life, Jeongguk had never questioned his sexuality. He’s had thriving relationships with women whom he was certain he loved at the time.
It’s hard to remain certain when you don’t know who you are, Jeongguk thinks.
Another thing that passes through Jeongguk’s mind is the idea that all of this is just in his head. After all, he's been overloaded with work recently and the hectic atmosphere of the store doesn’t quite help. But Jeongguk is also logical and he knows this is another way of him trying to run from his problems.
Running is so much easier, he thinks.
“I brought you a coffee,” a voice snaps him out of his thoughts, surprising him entirely. Jeongguk curses internally when he recognizes it’s Taehyung. The trainee holds out the cup in front of him with an outstretched arm, offering it to Jeongguk.
He should be grateful for the offer, but Jeongguk can’t help but see Taehyung’s niceties as anything but inconvenient.
“No thanks,” he mutters, refusing to look away from the packages of ramen on the shelf next to him.
Taehyung stands there awkwardly, balancing his weight from one leg onto another. “No worries— um— are you coming to the party on Saturday?”
“No.”
Taehyung hums. “Okay, how’s your shift going so far? Did you finish up the schedule?”
“Yeah, it’s all going fine,” he says harsher than intended. Good one, Jeongguk. Now he definitely hates you and thinks you hate him.
The conversation is painfully awkward and Jeongguk can’t help but think that, maybe, if he cracks a joke or offers to grab him something to eat, it would dissipate the tension in the air. But Jeongguk has never been good at making decisions or treading out of his comfort zone, so he chooses to stay put in the comfort of the snacks aisle.
Taehyung awkwardly shifts his weight from one leg to another. “Well, I’ll see you around I guess?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, turning to fidget with the misaligned product on the shelves.
“Cool.”
“Cool,” Jeongguk returns monotonously, watching as the trainee slowly backs away.
He almost lets out a sigh of relief before Taehyung turns around once again. “Oh and Jeongguk?”
“Yes?” Jeongguk makes the mistake of making eye contact with Taehyung this time. He looks tired, eyes sunken in and the color almost drained from his face— the usual pink hue in his cheeks replaced with something dull. Almost as if the last few weeks of endless restocking and answering idiotic questions from customers have already caught up to him.
Ah, the glamorous life of a retail worker.
“It’d be really cool to see you at the party,” Taehyung grins, and for a moment, he sees a glint of the newly hired trainee in his eyes. It leaves an ugly feeling in the pit of Jeongguk’s stomach. He simply nods in response before watching the trainee walk away.
He feels like he just kicked a puppy.
###
Jeongguk still isn’t finished with the stupid schedule. He lied to Taehyung when the elder had asked, choosing the easy way out. He wasn’t going to start it at first, but after a few minutes of staring at the odd stain in the carpet of Namjoon’s office, Jeongguk had realized he’d rather work than stare into space.
Three hours have gone by and he still hasn’t been able to focus ever since his conversation with Taehyung. Now, half the market has already cleared out and he’s still here.
The store had mailed out some coupons a few weeks ago, so the last few weeks have been nothing short of hectic for Jeongguk, encompassing everything from having to explain how a coupon works to a very nice halmeoni , to telling a customer that returning a singular banana from the bunch they had initially purchased was not allowed.
All in all, Jeongguk hated his job sometimes. Customers were needy, he didn’t get paid nearly enough, and Namjoon was nowhere to be found ninety percent of the time. Not to mention the small percentage of them that actually called Jeongguk by his name. He knows he has a name tag for a reason, but it feels too personal for him.
“I’m heading out for the night, Jeongguk,” Yoongi calls out, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as he peeks into the office. He didn’t even know Yoongi was still here. Jimin had left about an hour ago so Jeongguk had assumed they had left together. He still makes sure to mumble out a goodbye as the elder turns to make his way out.
And Jeongguk can’t tell if it’s because he’s been thinking about it all day or because he’s been staring at the same schedule for two hours and can physically feel each one of his brain cells slowly dying off when he abruptly breaks the silence in the dimly lit office to ask Yoongi a very stupid question.
“Were you serious when you said you think Taehyung likes me?” He says before he’s really able to process his words.
Yoongi pauses to think, unphased by Jeongguk’s question. He nods. “Yeah.”
“Well— Why,” is the only thing Jeongguk can sputter out.
Yoongi merely shrugs. “Dunno. Why do you ask? Is the store’s token heterosexual not so heterosexual after all?” He breathes out a laugh.
“What— no, I mean— I don’t know,” he groans. He just wants the week to be over already.
Once Yoongi seems to understand that Jeongguk is in genuine distress, the smirk on his face drops, settling into something more concerned. “Is everything alright?”
“I don’t know, I think I’m just tired,” Jeongguk relents.
“Are you sure? As annoying as I am, you know you can talk to me, right?” Yoongi leans against Jeongguk’s desk, extending a consoling hand onto his shoulder.
Is he sure? Jeongguk doesn't know what he's doing right now. How exactly did he think this conversation would go? What does he want Yoongi to say? Yoongi's always been a close friend of his and a strong voice of reason, but Jeongguk has no clue how to handle this situation. As if years of pretending to be so sure of himself have burned him out, and now Jeongguk can't bring himself to look through the ashes.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jeongguk groans. “Yeah, tiring week. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. I’ll see you later?”
Yoongi’s lips fall into a thin line, looking like he wants to say something but decides against it. Instead, he slowly lifts his hand off of Jeongguk’s shoulder. “See you at the party on Saturday?”
Jeongguk groans, how many more times is he going to be asked? “Yeah, maybe.”
He stops just before leaving and turns to look at him one last time. “Oh and Jeongguk?”
Jeongguk lifts his head to meet Yoongi’s eyes.
“Whatever you’re feeling, you don’t need to feel guilty for it.”
Yoongi’s footsteps echo down the corridor, followed by the click of the store’s backdoor, and Jeongguk is left alone in the office with nothing but his thoughts and an incomplete schedule.
He drives home that night with the windows up.