Chapter Text
“Why does it cost so much! I thought there was a 2 for 1 deal?” The boy across the counter stomped his foot slightly in agitation.
“Why would you think that?” San asked, scanning the next item, a very healthy pack of mini donuts.
“The sign said so!” Another little foot stomp. “Are you sure it’s not 2 for 1?”
“That was only for the Pizza flavored Pringles.” San explained patiently.
San hadn’t signed up for this when he took the job for the summer. His parents couldn’t manage their small convenience store on their own and San’s sister had just gotten an important promotion at work. So, San had packed up his apartment and sublet his room for the summer, returning home to take over managing the convenience store and giving his parents some time to relax before he went back to school.
It was a quaint little thing, the bottom floor of their old home. Their family lived on the second floor and ran the 24/7 shop from the bottom floor, nestled away on a side street of their city. San was used to picking up shifts and working for a little extra money, but the work wasn’t always pleasant.
“That seems classist or something.” A third little foot stomp, this one paired with a pout.
“I doubt Pringles was trying to be classist.” San’s patience was waning. This kid was ridiculous. “They’re just trying to sell their product.”
“Well they’re doing a shitty job of it.” The boy took out cash, exact change, and handed it over to San. “Damn capitalist empires draining the working class of their money.”
“Jeez, take it up with Pringles not me.” San said, handing the bag over to the whiny customer, trying to get him out of the store as soon as possible. “I just work here.”
“A pawn in capitalism’s scheme.”
“A worker trying to help his parents out.” San corrected with an ill concealed roll of his eyes. “There’s a station in the back corner where you can make your ramen, let me know if you need anything else. And please don’t chase away any customers with your personal crusade against Pringles.”
“No promises!” The boy all but skipped away.
San got his fair share of strange customers in the store, though this boy may take the prize for most absurd.
He sighed and leaned his elbows against the wearing counter. The boy had busied himself making his ramen, grabbing a few extra condiment packets and shoving them in his backpack, along with some utensils and napkins.
San straightened.
Kids usually didn’t do that. Well off students and adults didn’t usually do that. It was considered rude, selfish, greedy. Packets like that should be left for people who absolutely needed them, homeless people stopping by, kids who were on their own, people barely scraping by with their income.
San tried not to be obvious as his eyes raked over the boy’s form, taking in everything he had missed the first time. He was gaunt, cheeks just slightly too hollow and eyes just slightly too sunken to be healthy. His clothes were dirty but not yet torn or weathered. His backpack was messy, sloppy stitches indicating where the item had ripped and been hastily patched back together.
Without really thinking, San grabbed a hot chocolate packet from the shelf and ducked into the back room. Their store wasn’t frequented by the homeless population. Unfortunately, because they were a small, family owned business, they didn’t have the liberties of selling their products for the cheap prices that chain stores could. To make up for it, they always donated any excess food to shelters.
However, they were frequented by runaways or nomads. Their small store was discrete and off the main path. It didn’t show up on popular map apps, so hardly anyone who wasn’t local or at least familiar with the area would know it was here.
And because of that, San knew how to spot a kid in need. He finished the hot chocolate quickly, pouring it into a takeaway cup and grabbing a sleeve of rice cakes and a packet of M&Ms. Hot chocolate and M&Ms as a sign of care, rice cakes to actually help the boy. If he was a runaway and living off of scarce income, rice cakes would fill him up and last him awhile.
When San got back to the counter, the boy was sitting at one of their small tables, eating his ramen with fervor. San let him be, pretending to occupy himself with his phone until he saw the boy getting up and throwing his trash away. He scooped up the goods he had prepared and made his way to the boy.
He looked at the items on the table with surprise, eyes widening before narrowing, “I really don’t need your help.”
“Take the damn food.” San replied, giving him a look. “Do you want to spend the night? I live on the floor above, you could take a shower, sleep in a bed. No one will ask questions.”
The boy averted his gaze, staring at the food that San had set down. It was getting late, a light drizzle had started. San wasn’t sure about this boy’s story or his plan, but he would feel horrible if he didn’t offer him some kindness.
“I’m a bit prideful.” The boy admitted, hands clenching and unclenching where they rested on top of his thighs. “So I’m sure you understand how painful it is for me to say yes, that sounds amazing.”
San nodded in understanding, “No questions asked, not by me or my parents. I promise.” San extended his hand, “I’m Choi San, by the way.”
The boy took his hand and offered a tight lipped smile. “Jung Wooyoung. I wish I could say it was a pleasure.”
Wooyoung waited in the shop until San was relieved of his shift by the night worker, a nice boy named Taehyun who lived in the neighborhood.
“My parents will probably be asleep when we get there.” San said, leading Wooyoung to the back room and up the stairs to their home. San expertaly avoided the creaky floorboards and stepped around the puddle that formed on the 6th stair whenever the weather got wet. Wooyoung let out a string over colorful curses when his foot landed directly in the wet spot.
San snorted, “Quite the vocabulary you’ve got.”
“Quite the attitude you’ve got.” Wooyoung shot back. “You couldn’t have warned me?”
“I thought you would take the hint when I stepped around it.” San said with an unapologetic shrug. “Sorry you’re dense.”
“Sorry you’re an ass.”
San didn’t respond. He opened the door at the top of the stairs and slipped into their home, holding it open for Wooyoung to come in behind him.
The door opened into their living room, dimly lit by a lamp and the Christmas lights they had strung along the ceiling. It was an old place, the wood panelled walls were peeling away and there was a perpetual smell of old people.
San kicked off his shoes and ushered Wooyoung in. He was looking around with misplaced wonder, eyes drinking in the home. San had so many questions he wanted to ask, but he had made a promise and the last thing he wanted was to make Wooyoung uncomfortable.
“Do you want anything to eat?” San asked, “I can make us dinner, I haven’t eaten since before my shift anyways.”
Maybe Wooyoung wouldn’t take it personally if he thought San was hungry too. Hopefully he wouldn’t see San’s poor attempt at trying desperately to help him.
“Sure, thanks. Could I take a shower?” Wooyoung beamed at him and San couldn’t help but smile back.
“Down the hall, first door on your left. There’s spare towels in the cupboards, use any soap you want. I’ll get dinner ready.”
Wooyoung followed his instructions and disappeared into the bathroom. San took a second to orient himself, racking his brain for what his parents would do. What they had done in the past when they had taken in wayward kids. It wasn’t often that his parents would gently coax an obviously distressed teen into their home, but it was enough to leave an impression on San.
First, dinner.
Luckily, there were leftovers for him in the fridge that his parents had left for him which he got reheating over low heat on the stovetop quickly.
Next, a care package.
If Wooyoung was a runaway or displaced or whatever, he would need food that didn’t have to be cooked. Little to no prep would be ideal unless he had some backpacking kitchen stove that San didn’t know about. Also food that wouldn’t spoil, stuff he could store away for bad days when he was out of funds or there was no store close. But no cans, cans were heavy and took up room that other essentials should have instead. San grabbed a grocery bag and carefully arranged granola bars, chips, and pretzels on the bottom. He got oatmeal packets and hoped that Wooyoung could find somewhere to prep them, oatmeal was substantial and could keep you full for a long time. He put some instant coffee packets, a sleeve of Oreos, dried oranges and apricots. It wasn’t much, but it was what he could offer.
The shower turned off and San panicked, setting aside the bag and quickly plating the food. He tried to subtly fit more vegetables and rice on Wooyoung’s plate. Vegetables for the nutrients that he would be denied living off of cheap gas station food, rice because it was filling and provided lots of carbs for energy. If Wooyoung noticed, he didn’t comment. He sat at their rickety dining table and dug in, moaning obscenely at the food and having San nearly choke at the noise.
“Oh please, with a face like that I’m sure you’ve heard dirtier.” Wooyoung said with a scoff.
“I have never seen someone so pleasured by food.” San said with a shake of his head.
Wooyoung leaned back and patted his belly a few times with a content smile, “Well, my friend, you are missing out on the downright filthy noises Yeosang makes when he likes food. If he weren’t my best friend… Actually, scratch that, even though he’s my best friend those noises really make me feel some type of way.”
“Yeosang?” San asked, choosing that to focus on instead of the rest of the sentence.
Wooyoung’s face fell just slightly, “You said no questions.”
San waved a hand frantically, “I did! And I meant it! Sorry, it’s in my nature to ask questions.”
“It’s okay.” Wooyoung smiled at him, “Just, please, no questions. I don’t think-”
“Don’t worry.” San gave him what he hoped was a reassuring look, “No questions, I promised and I’ll stick to it. Look, it’s late, we should go to bed.”
“Right.”
“You can sleep in my room, I’ll take my sister’s bed.”
“Sure.”
“You okay?”
Wooyoung glared at him, “You said no questions.”
San didn’t really consider that a question, but he just nodded slowly, “Okay… Okay, my room is the door right across from the bathroom, feel free to use some clothes to sleep in.”
Wooyoung stood, stretched, and let out a little noise as his back cracked. “Thanks, San. I’m sorry for imposing like this. And for snapping at you. I’m really grateful.”
San’s heart ached for a second
“It’s okay Woo.” San reassured, “I’m happy to help. Go get some sleep.”
“Night cutie.”
“Night Woo.”
Once Wooyoung was gone, San made quick work of cleaning the kitchen. The room Wooyoung had gone to was technically San’s, but was really his sister’s. After his sister had moved to college, San had invaded the room and made it his own. San’s original room was a bed behind a screen in the far corner of the kitchen. His parents couldn’t afford a larger house for San to have his own room and his sister’s room barely fit her bed in the first place, there was no room for San there anyways.
So, San slipped behind the screen and settled into his childhood bed, feet dangling off the edge and the sound of the refrigerator creating an invasive hum.
Despite that, he slept soundly that night.
Wooyoug left the next day without delay.
San made them breakfast and made an extra portion for his parents for when they woke up. With their sudden free time, they had begun sleeping in later and were always thankful when San made them some breakfast to wake up to. Wooyoung ate quickly and quietly, with no smart remarks to make. San could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of him as his knee bounced. He was antsy to leave.
San wanted to ask him questions about what he was doing, where he was going. Was he running away from someone or towards someone? Did he know he was going to be safe? Who was Yeosang? Where was he from? Did he need help?
But San didn’t ask any of them. His tongue basically burned with the need, but he held back. Reassurance wasn’t what Wooyoung needed, he just needed someone to get him to point A to B, to validate him.
San drove him to the bus stop, forced Wooyoug to take the bag of food, and said his goodbyes.
Wooyoung didn't draw it out.
“Thank you, again, Sannie. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” San assured him.
Wooyoung gave him an almost sad smile, “I do, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay off my debt. I’ll see you around cutie.”
And then he was off, hiking his bag up and flashing his ticket at the driver as he stepped on to the bus.
Wooyoung’s sad smile didn’t leave San’s mind
San would never regret helping his parents. They were good people, his favorite people in the world, and San would do anything for them, not out of a feeling of obligation towards them, but genuine desire to help them.
But, he did mourn for his lost summer.
It was the summer between his first and second year of university and the loneliness of being away from the city was already starting to make him feel antsy.
Wooyoung had been the most interesting thing to happen to him since he had gotten home.
Until a frazzled and desperate looking Yeosang came bursting through the doors.
The boy was panting, San noticed right away. His chest heaving as his eyes scanned the store, stopping on San in the first aisle where he was sweeping.
The boy gave him a strained smile, “You don’t happen to have some coffee and Pringles?”
“Horrible combination.” San said. “Pringles are down the second aisle, instant coffee packs are by the register, you can boil some water in the microwave.”
He nodded, “Great. Good. Coffee, Pringles. Why not?”
“Sure,” San agreed, moving behind the counter to ring the boy up as he came trudging over with a can of Pringles in his hand, “Why not have the shittiest breakfast ever?”
The boy gave him a look, “It’s brunch.”
San snorted, “My mistake. Quite a classy brunch you’ve got here.”
“Pizza Pringles and Coffee pair beautifully,” He argued, “Sorry you don’t have taste.”
“I don’t have taste? Do you hear this banger playlist! All me.” San laughed lightly, “Y’know there’s a 2 for 1 deal on the Pizza Pringles if you want to grab another tube or can or whatever it's called.”
He scoffed, “Fucking capitalist. Of course they make the Pizza Pringles 2 for 1 of all the Pringles.”
San looked up, surprised. The boy across from him also looked up, caught off guard by San’s sudden gaze.
“What?”
San shook himself, “Nothing it’s just… You’re the second person to come in here and complain about Pringles and the woes of capitalism.”
The boy’s face shifted, the almost playful look dissolving completely, replaced by a near desperate devastation.
“Wooyoung? Was Jung Wooyoung here?” He asked, one hand blindly trying to grab his phone from his backpack while maintaining eye contact with San. “Stupidly short, little shit of a personality, probably a bit of a dick?”
The boy shoved his phone in San’s face. His wallpaper was a picture of him and Wooyoung together, obviously a few years younger, but no doubt them.
San nodded somewhat dazedly, “Yeah that’s him. He called Pringles classist and cursed me out when he stepped in a puddle.”
“That absolute fucker!” His voice cracked, “I knew I could find him god . Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I dropped him off at the bus stop three days ago.”
“Three days!” The boy ran and hand through his hair, tugging the light locks harshly, “ Fuck . God - Do you know where he went?”
San shook his head, guilt starting to creep up on him. He had wanted to ask, just to know that Wooyoung had a plan, had someone he was running to. But he had promised no questions. So he asked no questions.
“No… No I’m sorry I-”
“It’s okay,” The boy’s hand dropped from his hair and though he still had a desperate glint in his eyes, his features softened. “It’s not your fault. Woo wouldn’t have told you even if you asked. Thank you for helping him. I need to go.”
“Wait!” San rushed from behind the counter, “Wait where are you going?”
“He’s my best friend. I need to find him.”
“Do you know where he’s going at least?” San asked.
The boy shook his head, dropping his gaze, “I don’t know but I… I have some ideas. One of them brought me here, and I was right about that so… I just need to follow my gut on these.”
“On what?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
The boy let out a somewhat weary sigh and San felt the guilt swell in him again. He pushed it aside. There could be a chance he could help this boy, help Wooyoung, if only they would let them.
The boy stuck his hand out, a welcoming smile on his face, “I’m Yeosang. My idiot of a best friend ran away 6 days ago. He dropped some super cryptic hints to me these past few weeks and now I’m desperately trying to remember what he said and track him down.”
San smiled and took his hand, echoing the words that Wooyoung had said to him just days before, “I’m Choi San, I wish I could say it was a pleasure.”
San set them up in the back room, making two cups of the - admittedly disgusting - convenience store coffee and settling them down. Yeosang wasn’t the same confusing mess as Wooyoung was. Though he seemed frantic, desperate, there was an air of poise to him, and eerie calm that seemed practiced and intentional. Despite that, San found his overall attitude extremely warm, maybe a bit standoffish, but obviously a good person.
Yeosang gave him an extremely vague and watered down version of what he understood had happened. Wooyoung left. He had planned it. He had been telling Yeosang of all the weird and fun adventures he wanted to do over the summer, including tracking down the city that sold spicy pickled apples, one of the few places in the world, according to Wooyoung.
“I have no idea where he heard that.” Yeosang complained, sipping on his coffee and not bothering to conceal the disgusted look as the cheap drink hit his tongue. “He comes up with the weirdest things.”
“Spicy pickled apples…” San mulled it over. “Oh. Aunt Pesha’s apple farm?”
Yeosang perked up, “That sounds familiar. Do you know it?”
“It’s a few miles away, I could drive you?”
“You have work.”
San waved him off, already itching to join Yeosang. “I’ll call another worker in. Taehyun was pleading with me to give him more hours anyways.”
“A bit irresponsible of you.” Yeosang quipped, standing and collecting his trash.
San shrugged, also standing to stretch, “I’ll tell him my friend is having some mid-life crisis and I have to chase him halfway across the country.”
“Wooyoung’s not your friend.” Yeosang deadpanned.
San put a hand over his heart, “I doubt Wooyoung would be saying that after the very special night we had.”
Yeosang gagged, “Gross. Now hurry up, I need to wrangle my idiot best friend as soon as possible.”
Taehyun was happy to help, coming over on his bike within minutes and clocking in. San and Yeosang called their thanks as San lead Yeosang to his crappy old car. When the summer had started, San hadn’t expected more than a few visits from his college friends, maybe some parties with his old high school friends. He had been ready for a perfectly ordinary summer, and he had originally been happy at the prospect of living stress free, if even for a few months.
Now though, San was itching for something more. He had never been good at routine. Where some found it relaxing and helpful, San found it mundane and boring. He was ready for something new.
He watched Yeosang’s hair bounce slightly, watched as he cheeks puffed with a breath.
He didn’t intend to use Yeosang or Wooyoung for his own entertainment, it was his very nature to help others whenever he could. But, at the same time, San was excited about where this mysterious duo could take him.
“Alright Yeosang-ah, let’s go.”