Chapter Text
The delivery was late. Again.
Chan stared at the email notification on his phone, the light from his screen forcing him to blink a few more times until the sleep left his system. His latest book shipment was supposed to arrive yesterday, but now, it was delayed until further notice.
Not surprising.
He exhaled slowly and rubbed his face before tossing his phone onto his bedside table. The room was dim, but he could already hear people on the street outside and the sounds of cars in the distance. His windows were covered with dark blue blackout curtains from floor to ceiling, making it almost impossible for daylight to come in.
He turned his head slightly to the right and saw “8:39” blinking on his clock. He groaned. His alarm was not set to ring until 9. He could’ve blamed the email notification for waking him up early, but he knows his habit of waking up before his alarm rang has been ingrained in him long before he started living alone.
With a sigh, he swung his legs over the bed, stretching out the stiffness in his shoulders before padding toward the kitchen. His movements were automatic - coffee first, everything else could wait.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
He turned on the coffee machine, letting the sound of dripping liquid fill the space. He was staring off into space when he suddenly jolted out of his reverie and glared at the innocent machine.
Why was he making coffee? He stopped drinking them more than a year ago. He also never liked drinking them, too. He only started drinking them because of-
He stops his thought and covered his face with both his hands before releasing a heavy sigh. After a couple of seconds, he turned off the machine and made himself a cup of tea, instead.
By the time he was done making his cup of tea, the notification on his phone remained unanswered. He picked it up, reading the message again even though he already knew what it said.
“Your delivery has been delayed. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
He should be annoyed. But instead, he just sighed, taking a slow sip of his tea.
It was another morning.
Another slow, predictable day.
And another thing to quietly pretend didn’t bother him.
When Chan opened the door to his bookstore, there were not a lot of people on the streets - most of them were probably at work or school. It was also starting to get hot now that summer was around the corner. He turned on the lights and the air conditioner, automatically. He also pulled up the window blinds and turned on the music, using the same old playlist. It’s almost become a habit at this point.
Like any other normal day, Chan got to dusting off the shelves, sweeping the floor and doing some of the freelance copywriting jobs he has in the morning. He’d order food for lunch and in the afternoon, he’s got nothing much left to do, so he goes on to rearrange bookshelves, wipe down the counter that’s already clean and even fix the “New Arrivals” table for the third time today.
If he’s not doing anything, he’d end up staring into space with an open book on his lap.
One of his regular customers even comments, “You always look like you’re waiting for something.”
Chan felt his chest squeeze for a bit hearing this, but he only forces a small smile and changes the subject.
He has always dreamed of opening and running a bookstore since he was young. He loved reading and getting lost in the different worlds contained in every book. There was a bookstore he frequently visited in his childhood. It was a small, cramped space with shelves stuck close to each other with just enough space for a person to squeeze himself in. The floors were also almost full of stacks of books. But it was the most magical place for the young Chan. And he was always open about this dream of his.
Now that he has his own bookstore, he feels like it doesn’t feel as magical as he used to dream of. But he rationalizes with himself that maybe it is just how it is - childhood dreams are just overly romanticized.
It just feels… like a routine.
Then the sound of the bells hanging over the door chimed, pulling Chan out of his thoughts. He greeted the customer even before he saw who came in.
A man and a woman enter the bookstore. The man had his arms hooked at the back of the woman’s waist protectively. They both returned the greetings to Chan, who was sporting his default customer smile. They were looking for a book on wedding planning.
They both looked no more than 25 years old but their ring fingers were already occupied by similar rings. Chan smiled and told them to follow him. He led them to the shelf where he placed the wedding-related books, and then left after they thanked him.
Chan could still see them from where he sat at the counter, and he could see the way they held hands, how they laughed and whispered to each other like they’re the only people in the world. He’s had rowdy customers once in a while, but he finds this quiet couple more annoying.
When the couple came back to him, they brought a couple of books, and as he was ringing them up, they complimented how cozy and organized the bookstore was.
Chan prided himself in this, but before he could feel good about it, the man left a lighthearted comment, “You must have a romantic heart to run a bookstore like this.”
Chan freezes for a moment. Then he smiles politely, without saying a word and watches them walk out of his store giddy and in a happy mood.
He couldn’t say a word to them. Because, deep down, he’s stopped believing in romance.
Romance belongs in books, not in his life.
Chan was closing down the store after the storm came crashing down out of nowhere. He knew that at times like this, there were no customers who'd come in, and the storm just makes his store feel even emptier than usual. Not to mention, the coffee he had delivered earlier spilled on his sleeve. Fortunately, it wasn’t scalding hot anymore and there were no books around him when it happened.
Safe to say, Chan was already irritated.
Just as he was finishing with the closing, he got a notification fom the delivery company, telling him that his book shipping was already delivered.
But he hasn’t received anything today?
His packages are usually delivered directly in his store, but there was no one who came in today to drop any packages. Then he remembered that the building where his bookstore was in has a package drop off area inside the main building. He decided to check it out in case it was dropped off there. But just looking at the storm outside right now was draining all the energy out of him.
Even though his bookstore was located at the ground floor of the building, the entrance of his store was separate from the main entrance of the building. It means he has to walk to the other side of the building. In a storm. And the building only has a narrow roofing on its sides to protect the people using the walkway around the building.
With a sigh, Chan finally decided to brave the storm and walk inside the building to check on his packages. His sleeve was already soaked in coffee, so a storm wouldn’t really change the fact that he was already irritated.
By the time he was already at the entrance of the main building, half of his body was already soaked. He tried to brush off the excess water on his body before he finally entered the building. He asked the person at the front desk where the packages were dropped off. Fortunately, the person at the desk was a regular at his store, so there was no need for him to provide proof before he was given access to an area designated for the building tenants only.
As soon as he opened the door to the drop off area, he saw a stack of familiar boxes - it was the new book delivery from his usual source. Chan felt relieved that they really were there. He was about to head towards the boxes when he saw a smug-looking guy standing near the boxes.
Chan frowned.
Why was he just standing there? And why is he holding one of my packages?
He definitely doesn’t look like a delivery guy.
And right before Chan could say anything else, the other man ripped one of the boxes, pulled out a book and started flipping through like he owned the place. What’s even more mortifying is the fact that the book he was carelessly handling was an old, first-edition book of a rare series he has always been wanting to have.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Chan stormed inside, half-shouting in horror.
The other man looked up at him and froze for a bit, but Chan did not care. He walked straight up to him and stared at the book in the other man’s hands.
“What are you doing right now?!” Chan wasn’t screaming, but he was seething, almost threatening.
This amused the other man. With an eyebrow raised at Chan, he replied, “Reading.”
Chan’s eye twitched.
“Those are my books.”
The other person blinked his large eyes at Chan and then at the stack of boxes beside him. “These were delivered to me though?” The other man tilted his head towards the name on the locker. Chan followed his direction and it read: “Penthouse, Lee Minho”.
Penthouse? Then Chan realized this person was the owner of this building - his landlord.
“Who are you again? I did not get your name because you just suddenly barged in here and accused me of stealing your books.” This Lee Minho person smirked at him, and Chan felt embarrassed.
“I’m the one running the bookstore outside.” Chan couldn’t give his name, but his landlord grinned at him.
“Ahhh…are you perhaps Bang Chan-ssi?”
Chan flinched. How does he know his name? Chan gave him a suspicious look and his landlord just gave him a shrug.
“I am the owner of this building. I should at least know my tenants’ names, right?”
He looked so smug while talking like he just stated the obvious.
“And maybe because your name is on these boxes?”
When Chan heard that, his eyes immediately turned towards the boxes he originally thought were his. He moved closer and read the shipping details. His eyes widened in disbelief. Those really were his packages! But before he could even get a word out, Minho beat him to it.
“Before you call me a thief again, it’s not my fault they were in my locker.”
“Then, don’t you know how to read? My name is clearly written there.”
Minho shrugged again. “I don’t remember everything I ordered.”
Chan can’t believe how shameless this person was. Is it because he was rich? Do all rich people act like this? This person was testing all of his patience right now. He wanted to throw something at him, but he tried to calm himself.
With one deep sigh, Chan asked for the book Minho was still holding.
Minho stared at Chan’s hand and moved the book away from Chan, his face grinning at him, teasingly.
Chan stepped forward and tried to grab the book but Minho dodged it easily, like he was expecting it.
“Wow. Aggressive. You always this friendly?”
Chan stepped forward again, seething. “Give. It. Back.”
That’s when disaster struck. Minho was still chuckling mid-breath when Chan lunged forward, trying to snatch the book from his hands. He dodged, and Chan’s fingers caught air. His foot caught absolutely nothing.
And then, the world around him blurred.
His shoe slid against the slick floor. He lost his balance and lurched forward uncontrollably. And, as if in slow motion, he realized - he was falling.
Unfortunately, so was Minho.
A mess of limbs and momentum, they both crashed down. Hard. Onto the cold tiled floor.
For a while, Chan could only hear his own breathing. Then realization hit him.
He wasn’t just on the floor.
He was sprawled on top of his landlord, their legs tangled, and his hands braced against his chest.
Their faces - barely an inch from each other.
Minho was staring at him, wide-eyed. His lips slightly parted.
Chan’s thoughts stopped.
Minho wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t smirking.
For a split second.
Just a single, fleeting moment…he looked at Chan differently.
It wasn’t like annoyance. It wasn’t also like a joke.
It was something else. Something unreadable.
Something Chan wasn’t able to put words on it.
And that terrified him.
The thought alone lit his nerves on fire, and suddenly, his instincts kicked in.
His body lurched back before he could think, stumbling to put space between them.
But Minho recovered faster.
The smirk returned. The amusement sparked back in his eyes.
“So…do I get a discount now?”
Chan gawked at him.
Whatever just happened between them. Whatever that tiny, frozen second was, Minho had shattered it instantly.
Chan scowled, ignoring the heat still thrumming under his skin.
"I hate you."
Minho was chuckling as he pulled himself up off the floor. “Love at first sight. Knew it.”
Chan wanted to throw a punch at him, but he was still his landlord, so he decided against that. He ignored Minho and picked up the old book Minho was holding before. Fortunately, it wasn’t damaged more than it already was.
“I’ll be taking my stuff now, so excuse me. You can get lost now, too, if you’re not here to pick up your package.”
Chan’s words may be a bit rude but it did nothing to Minho. Minho stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders, as if shaking off the fall.
“Well I guess, I’ll be seeing you around, Bang Chan-ssi.” Minho grinned as he left.
Chan gritted his teeth and regretted every decision that led him to this exact moment.
One good thing though is that the rain has already let up once he was out of the building. It will take him a few trips to move his packages, but he doesn’t want to have another encounter with that rich mad man, so he has to finish moving them as soon as he can. All while mentally swearing to block this man from ever stepping foot inside his bookstore.
Unfortunately for him, he would fail at it spectacularly.