Chapter Text
The heavy smell of grease clings onto Yeonjun’s skin, seeping into his pours and giving it an unnatural glow. There is a certain rhythm to all his movements, so effortless it’s almost muscle memory. A million things are happening at once: nearly golden crispy fries submerged into scolding hot oil, the snap of a rubber glove echoing through the tight truck, steaming cheese and hot food on the grill.
But the second Yeonjun hears an iconic, overly loud cackle with the rapid ring of the customer bell, everything is thrown off. The fries are burning, the black rubber around his wrist has ripped, the cheese is bubbling and the food looks like ash.
Yeonjun lifts his eyes, unable to focus on the chaos surrounding him as a boy with short brown hair walks up to the ordering area. He’s wearing a pale blue denim jacket, full of distressed holes and rips. A silver necklace dangles from his neck, catching the artificial light from the street lamps. Perhaps the most eye-catching part of him is his ever-so-long lashes, sprinkled with the remnants of loose glitter.
“Hey,” the boy fluttered his lashes, looking up to Yeonjun with heavy dough eyes. "Can I order some fries?" Taking a second, the boy looked behind his shoulder at the guy in a crisp leather jacket flashing an overly bright smile. "And two burgers?”
“We’re about to close.” Yeonjun isn't sure why he said it. Well, no. That’s a lie. He knew. It was just something about the men that pricked under his skin, a sense of irritation making him itch.
“Come on!” The boy whispered, yet his tone was as sharp as steel sharp, and very, very annoyed. “Please?” He pleaded, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear and using his puppy dog eyes to full effect.
Yeonjun rolled his eyes and used the sound of the bell ringing as an excuse to walk away, instead focusing his attention on a new customer who was dressed as softly and brightly as cotton candy. The man stared in disbelief as Yeonjun took the pencil behind his ear, nodding and listening intently while scribbling down the order of the pink-themed woman.
Using his patented customer service smile, “Your order will be ready in about five to seven minutes, please wait to your left.” His cheeks ached from how often he had to put on the mask of dutiful, “The customer is always right”.
As the woman walked away, the man with shiny brown hair slid back into place, his eyes wide with anger. “Are you joking?”
With a sigh, he spun around reaching into a designated corner, and picked up a brown bag with the word “compostable” sprawled on every side. He flicked it open and placed two foil-wrapped burgers and a medium carton of fires inside. Quickly, bunching the bag up, he stuck his hand out towards the other man, “That’ll be $16.79.”
The boy blinked with confusion as he slowly reached up and took the bag of food from Yeonjun’s hand. Squinting he peeked inside. “How did you-”
“Every Saturday, 9:15 sharp.”
The man behind him began walking up, a dark blue credit card in his right hand, running over his knuckles. The boy’s eyes widened, as the man placed his left hand on his waist, slipping just a hair under his white shirt.
“I got this covered, beautiful.” Black leather and steel buttons sang, hitting against one another to produce an ugly harmony when the guy waved his card in front of Yeonjun’s face. Biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from dropping his practiced smile and crescent eyes, he pushed the card reader forward. The blue card ran along the edge, a clear whoosh and a light ding to indicate it went through. “Thank you.” The man pulled the other boy down and closer to his chest, turning them around and walking away.
Yeonjun watched as they went toward a sidewalk. After they were far enough, he noticed the pink woman in his peripheral vision and scrambled to fix her order, placing free fries to silently apologize for the wait. She stared at him for a few seconds, giving him a knowing look before she too left, putting a five-dollar tip into Yeonjun’s hand even though he knew he didn’t deserve it.
It was then that the boy came bumbling back, rushing toward Yeonjun and the food truck at full speed, his bag of food clutched to his side. “To-tomatoes,” he huffed. “I forgot to ask for no tomatoes.” He was panting, almost gasping for air.
“I didn’t put any.”
“But-”
“9:15, every Saturday.” Yeonjun parroted.
The boy brought the bag closer to his chest, the skin beneath his necklace a flushed red from all his running. “Oh.” He mumbled. “T-thank you,” His eyes searched around, from Yeonjun’s face to the truck, and even the right side of his chest and collarbones.
“Yeonjun. My name’s Yeonjun.”
“Thank you … Yeonjun.” The boy bit his bottom lips, opening and closing his mouth, but nothing really came out. “I’m-”
“Beomgyu, right?”
The other’s eyes widened, sparkling and glittering. “I-” He gasped, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m Beomgyu.”
Behind him, Yeonjun saw a silver car pull up, flashing its headlights a few times before a loud honk sounded from the car. With a squeak, the window rolled down and the guy the boy was with earlier, poked his head out. “Beomgyu, did you fix your order!” He cried.
The boy, Beomgyu, didn’t turn around as he spoke, eyes still trained on Yeonjun’s form. “One second!”
Yeonjun glanced down at his wrist, watching the hands on his watch tick down closer and closer to their closing time. “Well, I gotta pack up.”
Beomgyu took slow steps away, bag still clenched to his chest. “Yeah.”
Yeonjun couldn’t pull his eyes off of him, his high cheekbones, his effortless hair, the sharpness of his jaw. Reaching down, he pulled out a bunch of napkins, “Here.” He thrusted the wad of paper forward and towards Beomgyu. “The, um, oil. It’s getting on your shirt.”
Shly, Beomgyu plucks the napkin from Yeonjun’s hand. A shiver ran down his spine when he felt the warmth radiating through the separate distance. “Thank you,” He pulled the grease-soaked bag up, “For everything. Really.”
“Beomgyu!” The guy from behind yelled again.
“Sorry, my date’s calling.” He chuckled with a soft laugh. “But, I’ll see you around, Yeonjun.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Even now, as Beomgyu walks back Yeonjun couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. There was something that was just magnetic about him, a pull that drew him to Yeonjun. Every time Yeonjun saw him he couldn’t help but be speechless. He was gorgeous, stunning. Even the way he walked, tilting his hips from side to side, long elegant legs jutting out and gliding across the world.
The urge to say something to him was always there. Yeonjun had run through a bunch of scenarios: Should he use small talk? Ask about the weather? Or maybe even the boy’s dislike of tomatoes as a jumping-off point?
He thought and thought and thought, but never dared to ask.
But now. Maybe, just maybe. Beomgyu will see him. Oh, how he hopes the beautiful boy with flowing brown hair, and glowing dark hazel eyes will look his way for once. A boy can only dream.