Work Text:
Cover Art by k. (@nakyuhm)
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“Is that guy still out there?”
Nakyum doesn’t look over, chin resting on his palm as he gazes out the café window.
“He’s pretty good,” Nakyum says as the skateboarder does another kickflip—or at least, that’s what Nakyum thinks he’s doing. He doesn’t know shit about skating, but kickflip sounds about right.
“He’s okay.” Mumyeong unties his apron before hanging it on the hook.
This catches Nakyum’s attention, peeling his eyes away to stare at his coworker. “You skate?”
“Used to,” Mumyeong says with a shrug. “It’s been a few years.”
“Then why don’t you go show him how it’s done?” A smile pulls on Nakyum’s lips when Mumyeong pauses while clocking out.
“No.” He resumes punching in his employee number, not rising to the bait. Dammit. “I’m already here longer than I wanted to be. Besides, I promised Jihwa I’d be out of here by five, and it’s—” he checks the clock before his eyes widen a fraction, “—yeah, I’m late.”
“Date night?”
Mumyeong hums, grabbing his keys from beneath the counter. “You okay with closing up on your own?”
“We’ve been dead all day.” Nakyum motions towards the empty café, not a single seat occupied. “I’ll be fine.”
“When you’re locking up, remember to jiggle the key around a few times, it—”
“It gets stuck, I know, I know.” Nakyum waves him off, tired of the same spiel. “Aren’t you late for a date?”
With a nod, Mumyeong slides over the counter and lands on the other side with a quiet thud. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Bright and early,” Nakyum says with an artificial smile. He hates mornings, but at least he has Mumyeong to suffer along with him. “Tell Jihwa I said hi.”
And after a parting wave and chime from the door, Nakyum’s left alone in the empty shop. Well, alone, aside from his entertainment outside the window.
Nakyum’s chin falls back into his palm, watching as the skater does another trick, and grins to himself when he sticks the landing.
Despite being so far away, Nakyum can tell he’s handsome—messy bun nearly hidden beneath a baseball cap, muscular frame slimmed by dark clothing. Sure, he can’t see his face, but each movement accentuates the broad width of his shoulders, the flex of his forearms when he grips the board. And since Mumyeong isn’t here to tease him, he can gawk all he wants.
Settling into a comfortable position, Nakyum zones out as he mindlessly sips an iced coffee.
While he’s never had much interest in skating, he finds himself fascinated by the different tricks the man performs; the board jumping and flipping and grinding in ways that would leave Nakyum flat on his ass if he even attempted them. He ignores the fact he’d fall flat on his ass if he got on the board, regardless.
Time stretches on, and as iced coffee dwindles to ice cubes, Nakyum rises to refill it before he catches a sudden movement outside.
It happens so fast.
One moment the skater is at the top of the stairs of the adjacent building and the next, he’s sprawled on the concrete, hat flung to the side along with his board.
“Oh god.”
Nakyum’s feet move faster than his mind, propelling him forward until he’s over the counter and pushing open the door. He isn’t sure what he’s doing, or what he even can do, but he rushes over to the man on the ground, grimacing when he notices the scrapes lining his arms.
“Hey!” Nakyum calls out, hand rising to shield his eyes from the sun. “Are you okay?”
The man groans, rolling onto his back before draping an arm over his eyes. “Dammit, I was so close,” he mutters. “Just a little bit more air and I would’ve—”
“Hey,” Nakyum repeats, crouching down beside him. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding.”
“What?” The skateboarder drags his arm away to squint up at him. “Yeah, I’m...” His eyes widen slightly, the words cutting off in his throat.
“You’re…?” Nakyum passes a surveying glance across his body to look for more injuries. “Did you hit your head? Here, tell me your name and how many fingers I’m holding up.” Nakyum places two fingers in front of his face.
“It’s Seungho, but I can’t—I don’t see anything.”
Nakyum pales, heart dropping into his stomach. “Oh sh—”
“I’m fucking with you.” Seungho chuckles, wincing as he pushes himself up into a seated position. “Two fingers. You held up two fingers. And I didn’t hit my head; I think my arms took most of the fall.” He raises both forearms for emphasis, showing off the scraped skin.
Nakyum’s nose scrunches at the sight. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
Seungho shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”
“What were you trying to do over there?” Nakyum’s eyes sweep over to the staircase.
“Ollie the stairs,” he says, scratching his head. When Nakyum blinks at him, he sighs. “Jump. I was trying to jump over the stairs.”
“Jump?” Nakyum’s certain his face looks as incredulous as he feels. He gives a pointed look back towards the stairs. “Over that? That’s like ten steps! Are you crazy?”
“Something like that,” Seungho says, taking inventory of his injuries. A frown pulls on his face as he rotates his arm, the movements stiff.
“You promise you’re alright?” Nakyum asks for the third time.
And this time, Seungho looks up at him, squinting against the sunlight. “…I mean…it hurts a little.”
“I knew it!” Nakyum straightens to full height. “You should’ve said something! Listen, there’s no point in playing tough—”
“I think it’ll feel better if you give it a ki—”
“I’ll go get you some ice!” Nakyum’s shoulders square in determination as he turns to leave.
“Whoa, hey, wait!” Seungho calls after him. “You’re just gonna leave me here?”
He pauses, brows furrowing. “Well…yeah; I need to get you ice.”
With a groan, Seungho clambers back onto his feet, the act accompanied by frantic “hey, stop that! There’s no need, just stay right there,” that he promptly ignores.
“I’ll come with you.”
Nakyum huffs, cheeks warming, because now that he’s peering up at him, he realizes he was right—Seungho is handsome. Incredibly so, sweat dripping onto thick brows and down the straight bridge of his nose. Nakyum tears his gaze away to prevent it from lingering on full lips.
“Okay,” he concedes. “I guess it’s better if you come along. Plus, we have a first aid kit inside.”
“Oh?” Seungho’s brow quirks, smile twitching on his lips. “Am I getting the nurse’s treatment?”
“I’d hardly call it that,” Nakyum says. “But we need to clean those cuts. I don’t want them getting infected.”
A low chuckle warms Nakyum’s bones. “Aren’t I lucky having someone fuss over me?”
The flush on Nakyum’s cheeks intensifies. “Grab your skateboard before someone steals it,” he mumbles, turning away to hide his rosy complexion.
“Yes, sir,” Seungho teases, heading over to grab his board and hat from the ground before rejoining him. Nakyum’s thankful for the momentary reprieve. “You work at the coffee shop?” Seungho nods to his apron.
Oh god, he’s still wearing this stupid thing.
“Ah—yeah.” Nakyum nods, sheepish, as he brushes a hand along the fabric. “I’d forgotten to take it off when I rushed out.”
“It’s a nice color on you,” Seungho says, gaze sweeping across his attire, and Nakyum wants to disappear. “I don’t know anyone who’d look good in such an offensive pink.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment.”
Seungho grins. “It is.”
Nakyum starts to regret letting him tag along.
“Well, you should see my coworker," he says, walking towards the shop in hopes Seungho can’t see the impact of his words. “He looks even better in this pink than I do.”
“You mean that burly guy who walked out thirty minutes ago?” Seungho helps Nakyum open the door, and the cool air washes over their sun-warmed skin. “I doubt that.”
“You’d be surprised,” Nakyum says. “Pink’s really his color.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Seungho suddenly asks, and Nakyum pauses on his way to the front counter.
“Mumyeong?” Nakyum snorts, the sound too loud for the quiet space. “No, not at all. He’s like a brother to me. Besides, he’s dating someone.”
Seungho pulls out a seat at a random table before plopping down, his posture casual. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?” With a small grunt, Nakyum hops over the counter to rummage beneath for the first aid kit.
“Are you dating anyone?”
Nakyum almost slams his head into the countertop. “Me?” His voice comes out muffled, and he doesn’t dare rise and reveal his flustered expression. “No, I—I’m not dating anyone.”
Seungho hums, the chair squeaking as he reclines further. “Cool,” he says. “They might’ve gotten jealous over you helping me.”
Once he finds the first aid kit, Nakyum straightens before checking the contents to distract himself. “Good thing I’m not seeing anyone then.”
He refuses to look in Seungho’s direction, sorting through the kit for alcohol wipes, antibacterial ointment, and bandages. Maybe he should bring some gauze too, just in case.
“Good thing,” Seungho echoes, a lilt to his tone.
“Alright.” Nakyum closes the kit, keen on redirecting the conversation elsewhere. “Looks like we have everything.”
“Time to patch me up?”
Nakyum nods. “Fair warning, though, I don’t exactly know what I’m doing.”
“Wait, really?” Seungho feigns surprise. “And here I thought you were a doctor.”
“I’m sure you’re disappointed,” Nakyum teases back, approaching the table to sit in the chair beside him.
Seungho smiles, gaze warm. “Not even a little.”
Despite Nakyum’s attempts at nonchalance, his heart knocks wildly within his chest, unaccustomed to being hit on. Especially not by someone who looks like Seungho. His attention trails to the tattoo peeking from beneath his shirt sleeve, the black ink coiling around a toned bicep. Nakyum forces his gaze away, not wishing to prompt any further comments now that he can’t hide his face.
“Give me your right arm first.”
Seungho complies without comment as he places his right arm forward.
“This might sting a little,” Nakyum says, ripping open a packet of alcohol wipes. “But I’ll try to be gentle.”
The edges of Seungho’s lips quirk. “I appreciate it.”
Silence falls between them as Nakyum cleans the first arm and then the second, wiping the skin as tenderly as he can. He struggles to ignore the tension in the air and the warmth of Seungho’s body, the bumping of their knees, or the gaze that lingers on him as he works. He slips, noticing Seungho’s attention drifting to his lips.
His nervousness breaks the silence. “Do I have something on my face?”
Seungho blinks as if brought out of his thoughts. “Sorry, was I staring?”
“A little,” Nakyum says, ears warming.
“I just think you’re beautiful.”
The hand on Seungho’s arm pauses, and he hisses at the accidental pressure on his cut.
“Sorry, sorry,” Nakyum mutters, resuming to wipe along the scrapes, cheeks hot and pulse quick. He refuses to lift his gaze, unable to meet Seungho’s eyes. “You sure you didn’t hit your head?”
“Damn, so I have to be concussed to find you beautiful?” Seungho teases with a tilt of his head. “If you want, I can use another word. Maybe you’d prefer hot, or sexy, or—”
Nakyum snorts to downplay the explosion of heat on his cheeks. “Yeah, because there’s nothing sexier than a man in a pink apron and oversized sweater.”
“On you they are,” Seungho says, smile growing on his face.
“You know, when I ran out to help you, I didn’t expect you to be such a massive flirt.”
“If you had, would you still have helped me?”
“I mean…yes, but I would’ve given it a second thought,” Nakyum admits.
While it’s in his nature to help people, his awkward disposition means he has zero game. Like, none. He avoids all forms of flirting whenever he can, which is probably why he also hasn’t gone on a date in over a year. Had he known the man he ran out to help would be so forward, he might’ve at least hesitated.
Seungho chuckles, and Nakyum hates how the warm sound washes over his skin. “Well, then I feel pretty lucky you helped me without a second thought.”
“What you should feel lucky about is that you didn’t hurt yourself worse,” Nakyum says, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself. “You could’ve broken your arm doing something like that.”
“It would’ve taken more than that to break my arm again.”
“’Again?’” Nakyum repeats, pausing as he opens the cap to the antibacterial ointment. “You mean you’ve broken it before?”
“Twice.”
“Let me guess—while skating?”
“Nah, while saving children from a fire, actually.”
Nakyum’s eyes widen. “You did what—”
“Yes, while skating.” Seungho chuckles. “You know, you’re pretty gullible.”
Heat engulfs Nakyum’s face for the hundredth time that day, cheeks puffing in indignation. “Whatever,” he mumbles. “Excuse me for being so trusting.”
A warm, amused laugh fills the space between them. “I shouldn’t keep teasing you, but I can’t help it; you’re too cute for your own good.”
“Will you quit doing that?” Nakyum applies the ointment gently to Seungho’s arm, though he’d really like to smack it.
“Doing what?”
Nakyum gives him a look. “You know what.”
“Hit on you?” Seungho clicks his tongue. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Not one to exercise self-restraint, Nakyum slaps Seungho’s shoulder, but it earns him a snort rather than his desired reaction.
“I’m annoying you, aren’t I?” Seungho asks, though his tone doesn’t contain a drop of remorse.
Nakyum looks up at him innocently. “What gave that away?”
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop.” And Nakyum sighs in relief. “But only because you’re helping me.”
The faintest bit of tension melts from Nakyum’s shoulders. He also regrets never learning the art of flirting, but at least he can breathe a little easier knowing he won’t receive the onslaught of Seungho’s flirtations any longer. “Thank you.”
“I can’t promise you I won’t start up again once you finish, though.”
Nakyum chuckles, lighter this time. “I’ll be sure to take my time.”
A beat of silence passes between them before Seungho clears his throat. “So, ah—” he scratches at the back of his head, “—is it too late to ask for your name?”
The hands on his forearm pause as Nakyum looks up at him. “This whole time you didn’t know my name?”
“I mean, it’s not like you offered it,” Seungho says in defense.
“No, it slipped my mind, considering you asked if I was single before you thought to ask for my name.”
Seungho’s tongue probes along his inner cheek, eyes apologetic. “…So, it was too late to ask, huh?”
With a sigh, Nakyum resumes applying the ointment. “It’s Nakyum.”
“Nakyum.” Seungho tastes the name on his tongue. “It’s pretty.”
“Hey—”
“I’m not flirting!” Seungho’s free hand flies up in defense. “I swear. It’s just an old name, so I think it’s pretty.”
“Well, thanks,” Nakyum says, accepting the compliment despite being wary of the intentions behind it. He doesn’t trust Seungho as far as he can throw him. “I’ve never been a big fan of it.”
Seungho studies Nakyum’s expression, but Nakyum doesn’t meet his gaze, continuing to treat Seungho’s arm. “How come?”
“It’s kind of a girly name,” Nakyum says. “I got made fun of enough for being girly. I didn’t need a name to match it.”
“People made fun of you?” Seungho’s voice has a bitter edge when he asks the question.
“It’s in the past now.” Nakyum waves him off. “Comes with the territory when you’re the only boy in a family of women.”
“It shouldn’t,” Seungho says with a frown.
“You’re right; it shouldn’t,” he agrees. “But I didn’t exactly make it easier on myself. I could’ve been outside getting scraped up like you, learning how to skateboard or play sports or something, but I took up painting. Not quite the manliest hobby.”
Something sparkles in Seungho’s eye. “You’re an artist?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call myself that, but I paint, yeah,” Nakyum says with a small smile. “When I’m not working here, anyway.”
“You have any paintings you can show me on your phone?”
Nakyum looks up to read his expression, searching for some indication that Seungho is mocking him or teasing him, but all he finds is genuine interest.
“Um, yeah. Sure, yeah, here, give me a second.” Applying the last of the ointment, Nakyum caps the tube before fishing around in his apron pocket for his phone. “Let me see if I can find one…”
But as Nakyum scrolls through his camera roll, he wonders if this is a good idea. What if Seungho thinks he sucks? It’s not like Nakyum even knows this guy, so his opinion shouldn’t matter, but still—his paintings are personal. They’re an expression of him, and if Seungho takes one look and laughs, Nakyum would rather di—
“You find one yet?” Seungho asks.
Nakyum swallows and clicks on his latest painting. “Yep. Here.” He turns his phone around, hoping the tremble of his hand isn’t obvious. “I painted this last week.”
Seungho leans forward to study the painting, and Nakyum looks away, palms sweating.
It’s okay if Seungho doesn’t like it. It’s okay if Seungho doesn’t like it. It’s okay if—
“Holy shit,” Seungho whispers, and Nakyum waits for the insults to follow, the laughter, the teasing, the— “This is incredible.”
What?
Nakyum’s gaze sweeps up to Seungho again, and notices for the first time his wide-eyed expression and slightly parted lips.
“Wait, really?” Nakyum asks, incredulous.
“Yes, really.” Seungho looks up, confusion etched across his face. “Why do you sound surprised?”
Nakyum shakes his head, mildly embarrassed he was caught wallowing in his low self-esteem. “I just—I didn’t think you’d like it.”
“Why not?”
That damn blush creeps across Nakyum’s cheeks again. “I—I don’t know.”
Seungho gasps in feigned hurt. “Kyum, did you make assumptions about me?”
And the blush explodes down to Nakyum’s neck. “’Kyum?’”
“You said you didn’t like your name,” Seungho says with a shrug. “So, I gave you a nickname.” A grin spreads across full lips. “Cute, right?”
It is, Nakyum thinks. Unfortunately.
Seungho brings his attention back to Nakyum’s phone. “Anyway, do you have any others you can show me?”
Butterflies flutter in Nakyum’s stomach. “You want to see more?”
“Of course,” Seungho says, as if it were obvious.
Nakyum’s lips twitch, heart warmed by the flattery. “…There’s a painting I did earlier this month I’m pretty proud of; let me find it again.”
Excitement bubbles up in Nakyum’s chest as he scrolls through his phone, his earlier reservations dissipating. Despite Seungho’s incessant flirting, he’s the first to take an interest in Nakyum’s hobby—well, the first outside of his own family, and Nakyum’s always wondered if Heena’s praises are genuine or just her being a good sister. It fills Nakyum with a warmth that settles in his belly, pleasant and fulfilling.
“Alright, here it is,” Nakyum says, scooting closer to share it. “It’s a bit different from what I usually paint, but I think the colors turned out well.” When he turns the phone around, he looks up at Seungho, eyes shimmering beneath the café lights. “What do you think?”
And for the briefest moment, Nakyum thinks Seungho’s ears flash pink beneath his gaze, but he averts his attention back to the screen, and Nakyum wonders if he only imagined it.
“Damn,” Seungho says with a breathy chuckle. “This is even better than the last one. You’re right about the colors, too; you wouldn’t expect them to work together, but they do.”
“Don’t they?” Nakyum exclaims, enthusiasm leaking into his tone. “I think I’m going to use them again, but I’m not sure what to paint yet.”
“Do you take commissions?” Seungho asks suddenly.
“What, like for money?” And when Seungho nods, Nakyum shakes his head. “No, I’ve never taken commissions before. I didn’t think anyone would be interested.”
“Can I commission you, then?”
Nakyum laughs in disbelief. “You want to buy a painting?”
“Not just a painting,” Seungho says, expression serious. “I want you to paint my deck.”
The laughter stops as Nakyum’s face falls. “Your dick?”
This time it’s Seungho’s turn to laugh, the sound short and humored. “No—my deck. You know, the underside of my board. I’d pay good money for it, too.” A mischievous gleam enters Seungho’s eye, smile transforming into a smirk. “Though, I’d be more than happy if you also painted my—”
Nakyum cuts him off with an embarrassed squeal, mortified at the misunderstanding. “Your skateboard! Yes, I can—I can paint your skateboard.”
Seungho’s shoulders shake from residual laughter, a fond expression softening his eyes. “Good. Name your price.”
“Ah.” Nakyum chews on his lower lip, uncertain how much to ask for. “15,000 won?”
“You’re joking.” Seungho stares at him, brows raised. “No. Ask for more.”
“What do you mean? 15,000 won is plenty.”
“And I’m saying no,” Seungho says, refusing him. “Know your worth. Ask for more.”
“…20,000 won?”
“No.”
“22,000 won?”
“Kyum, I’m becoming offended for you at this point.” With a sigh, Seungho reaches into his pocket to pull out a black leather wallet. “I’ll set the price then.”
And when Seungho tosses a wad of cash on the counter, Nakyum immediately shakes his head.
“I can’t accept that.” He pushes the money back towards Seungho with his knuckles as if it will burn him.
“Yeah, you can.” Seungho nudges it back. “It’s not that much.”
“What do you mean ‘it’s not that much’? That’s 250,000 won!”
“So?” Seungho shrugs him off. “You act like that’s a lot.”
“Seungho, I make 250,000 won in a week working here.”
Puzzlement contorts Seungho’s face, bewildered. “In a week?” When Nakyum nods, Seungho frowns. “They’re underpaying you.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point!” Finally, Nakyum sighs, sitting back in his chair. “The most I’ll accept is half that, but no more.”
For a moment, Seungho doesn’t say anything, chewing on his inner cheek as he peers over at him. “If I give you half in cash, can I compensate you in other ways?”
Nakyum wonders if his face is going to stay perpetually warm whenever he’s in Seungho’s presence. “Sexual favors are off limits.”
This earns him a snort. “I didn’t have that in mind, but it’s good to know you’ve got a dirty mind.”
Nakyum’s jaw drops indignantly. “I do not—!”
“How about I take you out to dinner instead?”
Nakyum’s jaw snaps shut, heart skipping a beat at the offer. “Dinner?”
“Yeah,” Seungho says. “Or lunch. Hell, even breakfast works, too.”
“…And it would be part of the commission?” Nakyum doesn’t dare say the word ‘date,’ though a small part of him yearns to break his dry spell.
“Partly.” Seungho leans back, head tilting as he looks at him. “I’d also like to see you again.”
Nakyum’s heart lurches.
“You could just come into the shop again,” Nakyum says, and he kicks himself because why the hell is he playing hard to get? He hasn’t gotten laid, nor had a date in ages, and here he is cockblocking himself. “But d-dinner works, too. You know, as part of the commission.”
“Yeah?” Seungho grins, a gleam of triumph entering his eyes. “So, you’ll go out to dinner with me?”
Nakyum gives a shy nod. “Or—or lunch. Breakfast works, too…”
Seungho’s smile widens. “Cool.”
A tiny smile spreads across Nakyum’s lips in return. “…Cool.”
Sensing an awkward silence, Nakyum remembers his task, opening a new pack of bandages to keep himself occupied. “Since we have plans, try not to break anything between now and then, okay?” He grabs Seungho’s arm to secure a bandage, and the warmth of his skin sends a shock down Nakyum’s spine. Has it always felt like this? “No oliving the stairs.”
Seungho’s lips quirk affectionately. “You mean, ollying?”
“You know what I meant,” Nakyum says, embarrassment ripe on his cheeks. Suddenly, he remembers something, pausing as he smooths the bandage. "Hey, were you doing a kickflip earlier?”
“Oh?” Seungho’s brows raise in amusement. “You know a thing or two about skating?”
“No,” Nakyum admits as he grabs a second bandage. “But you kicked it and you flipped it, so.”
A large hand rises to cover Seungho’s face, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“What?” Nakyum asks, missing the joke.
“You’re too cute,” Seungho says, ears tipped with pink, and when he drags his hand away, Nakyum finds that same pink dusted across his cheekbones. “How about I show you next time? I can even teach you if you’d like.”
Nakyum’s eyes widen. “Me? Skate?”
“Yeah, you.” Seungho smiles.
“I’d fall on my ass.” Nakyum chuckles, applying the second bandage.
“That’d make you a true skater,” Seungho says. “I’d make you wear a helmet, though. And kneepads. And elbow pads. Can’t have you getting banged up like me.”
Why is it so hard for Nakyum to tear the smile off his face? “Can’t have that; then who’d take care of you?”
“You know, I think I’ll need routine check-ups.”
“Yeah?” Nakyum smooths the last bandage.
Seungho hums with a nod. “Who knows, these could get infected, or something. I should probably come by tomorrow for you to check.”
An amused huff of air falls from Nakyum’s lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You know what else is ridiculous? Staph infection. I’ll come by tomorrow.”
Nakyum laughs, head falling back. “I’ve already told you I don’t know what I’m doing. If you’re concerned, see a real doctor.”
“Nah,” Seungho says. “You’ll do fine.”
While Nakyum knows Seungho is full of shit, at least he finds it cute now. “Alright, if it gives you peace of mind, you can come by for me to check on you.” And it has nothing to do with Nakyum’s desire to see him again.
“And our dinner?” Seungho asks. “Or lunch or breakfast, or whatever. When can I take you?”
“I’m off on Friday and Saturday.” The words come out too quick, and Nakyum catches himself, not wanting to seem too eager. “Or we can do next week. Whenever you’re free. No rush or anything.”
“Friday’s perfect.” Seungho grins. “And then I can give you skating lessons on Saturday.”
Nakyum laughs, shutting the clasps on the first aid kit. “So, you’re coming tomorrow, then dinner on Friday, and skating lessons on Saturday? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
“Not at all,” Seungho says with a shake of his head. “I’ll also be coming by to pick up my board once you’re done with it, too.”
“You’re going to get sick of me,” Nakyum teases with an undercurrent of truth. Chances are Seungho will grow bored with him within a week, but he doesn’t dwell on the thought. He also doesn’t dwell on how that thought makes him feel.
A gentle gleam enters Seungho’s eye when he smiles this time. “I guess there’s only one way to find out, huh?”
And something about his tone awakens the butterflies in Nakyum’s stomach. “I guess you’re right.”
“I should get your number, by the way.”
Yep, the butterflies are definitely back. “Oh! Yeah. Right, yeah, good idea,” Nakyum says, palms sweating as he grabs his phone again. “Here, put your number in and I’ll text you.”
“I don’t trust you,” Seungho says as he takes Nakyum’s phone.
“What do you mean you don’t—”
“I’ll text myself from your phone to make sure I have it.” Seungho’s thumbs tap against the screen until a ding sounds from his pocket. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“You know where I work,” Nakyum says. “It wouldn’t be too hard to find me again.”
“And bug you for your number each time I come in?” Seungho scoffs. “I’m doing us both a favor. Alright,” he passes the phone back to Nakyum, “now we have each other’s numbers.”
“You’re not going to spam me with texts, are you?” Nakyum teases, though he wouldn’t mind his phone being blown up by Seungho. In fact, he can’t remember a time where anyone other than his noonas and Mumyeong texted him. It excites him, as lame as it makes him feel.
“I wasn’t planning to, but now I might,” Seungho teases back. “I’ll reach out with a time for our date on Friday, and you can let me know where to pick you up.”
Our date.
Nakyum wants to correct him—to tell him it isn’t a date, that it’s a contractual exchange for his commission—but as the words drift to his tongue, he swallows them down, not wanting to ruin this. Whatever 'this’ is.
“Okay,” Nakyum says instead. “So, Friday.”
“And Saturday,” Seungho adds. “And tomorrow.”
A giggle rises in Nakyum’s throat. “Sounds like we have a few dates.”
And Nakyum’s eyes widen while Seungho’s soften, the thought slipping out before he could filter it, but just when he rushes to amend it, the door chimes as a customer enters the shop. Nakyum isn’t sure if he’s grateful or upset.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment!” he calls over to the customer. “I—ah—I should get back to work,” he says to Seungho, quieter this time. To his relief, Seungho doesn’t tease him for his earlier comment, only rising from his chair with a huff.
“Of course. Thanks for patching me up, doc.” Seungho shows off his newly bandaged forearms. “And I’ll see you tomorrow for my routine check-up.”
Nakyum rises, smoothing down his apron to hide his excitement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Oh! Wait.” Seungho’s fingers encircle Nakyum’s wrist to prevent him from turning, and Nakyum screams internally. His hands are huge. “What time do you guys open?”
“The shop?” Nakyum stalls to compose himself. “We open at 8.”
“Then, I’ll be here at 8.”
“You—what? Why so early?”
“That way I can spend the day here. Duh.”
If Nakyum had to work with Seungho around for longer than an hour, he’d combust. Violently. “No. I’m serious, I won’t get anything done.”
Seungho clicks his tongue with a shrug. “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”
“But Seungho—”
“Hey, you’ve got a customer waiting.” He motions to the patron standing at the counter, an impatient look on her face. “What’re you doing standing around here for?” Giving one final pat to his skateboard in farewell, Seungho turns to leave before waving over his shoulder. “I’ll text you tonight.”
“Seungho—!”
“Later, Kyum.”
And Nakyum watches him leave, mouth dry, until a cleared throat tears him out of his daze.
With hurried movements, he rushes behind the counter, embarrassed about being caught staring. “I’m so sorry about that. What can I get for you?”
“Can I get an iced coffee with oat milk?”
“Of course,” Nakyum says, steadying his heart as he slips on his customer service face. “Will that be all?”
But rather than requesting another item, she nods to the door. “Was that your boyfriend?”
His customer service face shatters. “What? Him?” He gives a furious shake of his head, too hot in his sweater. “No. No, we just met.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me,” she says. “You guys were eye-fucking so hard while I was waiting here, I thought—”
“Will that be all?” Nakyum repeats with a weak smile. He’s going to put his head in the freezer later.
She smiles back with a knowing look, and Nakyum’s mortified at the thought he was this transparent with Seungho. “Yep.”
“Alright, that’ll be 3,500 won, please.”
And when she whips out her wallet to pay, Nakyum’s phone alerts him of a text message, the sound echoing in the quiet space.
“Your not-boyfriend?”
“No,” Nakyum quips, though he hasn’t even checked.
It probably isn’t, though. No way is it Seungho; he just left. It’s probably Heena, or Mumyeong checking in to see if everything’s okay, but Nakyum unlocks his phone and sure enough, a text message from Seungho flashes across the screen—
thx again 4 taking care for me. looking forward 2 seeing u tomorrow
“That’s definitely your not-boyfriend.”
And Nakyum doesn’t have it in him to argue, scanning his eyes over the text, two, three, four times, heart stuttering anew each time he rereads it. A smile tugs on his lips, happy and giddy and—
Maybe he’ll have a not-boyfriend after all.