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“Why the long face, Boss?”
Choi “Boss” Seungcheol turned to look at his employee, Seungkwan, who was sipping a can of beer.
“Did- was this from the store?!” Seungcheol pointed at the beer, staring at his employee incredulously.
“Yeah, obviously. The only convenience store in this dodgy alleyway.” Seungkwan shrugged.
Seungcheol narrowed his eyes, visibly annoyed. “I hope you paid for that, or I’m firing you.” Seungkwan rolled his eyes at his boss’ response, and sat down next to him on the pavement.
“You’ve said that so many times it’s lost meaning,” the younger sighed, brushing off non-existent dust from his jeans. When silence momentarily fell between them, Seungkwan turned to look at Seungcheol, and nudged his shoulder. “You don’t mean it, do you?”
Seungcheol stole a glance from the corner of his eyes and heavily sighed, “No.”
“You could’ve at least gotten me one too. But I don’t expect you to upkeep manners.” Seungkwan pulled a face, mimicking disgust. Scoffing, he reached for an unopened can that sat beside him, and shoved it towards Seungcheol’s arm.
“I did. And I paid for that one too.”
Seungcheol pressed his lips together as he felt his chest tighten, feeling like his heart had sunk. He hesitantly took the can in his hands and made a mental note to pay Seungkwan back for the beer. Seungcheol didn’t open the can though, he just let the cold metal press against his palms.
“Are you going to keep hating me?”
The older man traced his thumb over the tiger logo on the beer can. “I don’t hate you,” he says, shaking his head.
Seungkwan sipped his beer. “So, you’re just this brooding and cold by default?”
“I guess so.”
“That’s not true, though. Your mum keeps telling stories about you being super warm and kind — ”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not like that anymore, alright?” Seungcheol raised his voice, putting down the beer can on the ground. He noticed whenever he raises his voice, Seungkwan never flinches. Not one bit. He thought it had something to do with Seungkwan’s rough home life — though he didn’t know the extensive part of it; only the ones Seungkwan had vaguely told stories of.
“Are you mad?”
Seungcheol hissed at the question, “What do you think?”
“I mean, are you mad at what your life has come to?”
He turned to look at Seungkwan in the eyes, who was already staring at him. Seungkwan seemed… calm? His expressions told Seungcheol he was unamused, almost bored at the strong and masculine facade his boss frequently fronts. The stories Seungcheol’s mum told in question usually painted his boss in a positive light — playful, humourous, flirty. However, since Seungkwan met him, there wasn’t even a trace of those traits that were evident in his personality. It felt like they were never there in the first place.
“What does that mean?”
“You know what I mean. You’re always mad whenever someone brings up your parents, because they remind you that you left that fun urban life in Seoul for this … dingy small town being a manager of a dingy small convenience store.”
Seungcheol raised his eyebrows. After three months of hiring Seungkwan, the boy (“the boy” is exaggerated. He was only four years younger than him) who ran away from home and begged for the part-timer spot at the convenience store, he never got used to Seungkwan’s straightforwardness — or rather, his audacious personality. While it was incredibly annoying and rude at times, Seungcheol didn’t know why it gave him a slight rush of relief. Maybe it was the authenticity. Maybe everything Seungkwan said were things he already knew, but kept lying to himself about. In fact, Seungcheol thought this was why there was something about Seungkwan that drew him in when they first knew each other. Seungkwan’s propensity to immediately call out his bluff, for seemingly be able to see through Seungcheol like glass no matter how much the older man believed it was thickly tinted. Of course, he was mad he was forced to return to his hometown. Of course, he was mad he had to leave his higher-paying office job over becoming a convenience store manager.
“If you knew that, then why’d you bring it up?”
Seungkwan pursed his lips, then shrugged.
“It’s just sad seeing you be absent when you come to work,” Seungkwan sipped his beer. “People can tell, you know? It’s like life has sucked you dry, and you’re just on autopilot.” The younger tore his gaze away from Seungcheol, and focused on a blinking red light on an opposite street instead, counting down for pedestrians to cross. He just needed to look at anything else other than his boss.
“I could say the same about you,” Seungcheol pointed his chin at Seungkwan.
Seungkwan bitterly chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m … over it.” He knew where the conversation was going. He wasn’t ready to talk about his life.
“Hypocrite.” Seungcheol mumbled under his breath.
I am a hypocrite, aren’t I? Seungkwan thought to himself.
“I made a choice, and now I’m living with it. That’s what makes us different,” Seungkwan tips his can upwards to finish his drink, his tongue gliding over the metal opening to make sure he’s not wasting one drop.
“How is it every time we speak, you’re always picking a fight with me?”
“I’m not picking a fight,” Seungkwan exclaimed, crushing the beer can in his hand with barely any effort. “I’m honestly worried.”
“Worried?” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Like I said, you’re absent even when you’re here. I just …” Seungkwan trailed off, hesitating.
“You just what?”
“It just … hurts me?” It hurts you?
Seungkwan sighed. “You don’t wanna be here, you’re somehow always mad at something, and like … like it can kill you, you know?”
“No, I don’t know,” Seungcheol was genuinely confused.
“I had a cousin. She … she was in a similar situation as you, I guess? She developed depression, and then a couple years later … we lost her.” Right. There’s that. Seungcheol only nodded in response, then said a quick sorry.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah. This was ages ago but, thanks.”
“That went a really dark turn, I didn’t mean it. It’s just my morbid brain’s defence mechanism.” Seungkwan quickly rambled, his hand instinctively placed itself on Seungcheol’s forearm that was propped on top of his knees.
“No, no, it’s fine.”
Seungcheol felt hair stand up on the back of his neck. The warm sensation where Seungkwan’s hand touched his forearm lingered, and he felt that familiar tightening feeling on his chest that made him involuntarily stop breathing. He swallowed the lump on his throat and was itching to say something, anything, to break the silence.
“Thank you,” Seungcheol breathed. “For … worrying.” The intonation in his voice told Seungkwan he was unsure.
“Anyone would be worried. Even the customers probably did,” Seungkwan says, straightening his hunched back and copied the way Seungcheol was sitting, pulling his legs closer to his chest and propped his arms on his knees.
Seungkwan’s new sitting position brought their hands close together, nearly touching. Seungcheol watched the way his fingers twitched in fighting the urge to intertwine them together with Seungkwan’s that were merely inches away.
“I’m sorry. For picking a fight.” Seungkwan says.
“I didn’t mean that.” Seungcheol responded, his voice soft. His eyes are still trained on the way their fingers are this close to colliding.
“Sometimes I just like to provoke people for no reason, it’s a toxic trait of mine.” Seungcheol chuckled at Seungkwan’s revelation.
“I don’t expect less from a brat.” Seungkwan’s lips tugged into a lopsided smirk at the nickname.
Seungkwan held out his pinky finger to trace the edges of Seungcheol’s signet ring as the older felt breath hitch in his throat and stopped breathing again, for fear he might start hyperventilating at Seungkwan’s touch. The idea that Seungkwan has this effect on him was baffling. It was new — refreshing, almost. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time since he left Seoul. It made him suffocate.
Seungkwan then loosely linked his pinky finger around Seungcheol’s, then suppressed a gasp at the way the older man responded almost immediately by tightening its hold.
“You … wanna sit closer to me or something?”
Seungkwan grinned. It reminded him of the story Seungcheol’s mum had told him about her son being a gigantic flirt. Seungkwan has seen better efforts, but considering this was probably the first time the man has ever opened up since his move back from Seoul, he’ll let it pass.