Work Text:
the first time peppermint comes around, namjoon’s manning the till.
jimin’s in the back room having his short break, and namjoon offered to take it because the work has been slow and to be honest, he doesn’t really mind manning it.
namjoon’s wearing his usual garb: leather jacket and doc martens. jin lets them wear whatever they want since ‘it’s my store and really don’t care what you wear also i literally can’t be bothered to buy uniforms’ so he allows them civilian clothing but tags a lanyard around all the workers’ necks.
seokjin had inherited the store from his uncle when he'd dropped everything to follow a woman all the way to greece and seokjin had been more than happy to take over.
he’d since then renovated the whole place, giving it a modern aesthetic feel, the walls a soft pink and neon lights placed around the store. the floor is marble and shiny and namjoon cannot count the amount of times he’s slipped and fallen on his face, but he appreciates the look it gives the store so he can’t really complain.
namjoon is more than thankful that he doesn’t have to wear a generic uniform but jin’s glances at him when he sometimes comes to work in what jimin calls his ’aesthetic-emo-dad clothes’ makes namjoon a little iffy.
this is my aesthetic, namjoon thinks. you are merely an observer to my graceful albeit slightly pretentious nature–
namjoon’s internal monologue is interrupted by a soft sound.
the small bell–(jimin insisted on having one above the door, he said it gave the store a more ‘homey feel’)–rings.
a boy (? man? dude? person?!) with shocking mint hair strolls in. namjoon’s eyes are drawn to him and can easily spot him weaving through the aisles of the store, following the peppermint head. the boy (-man-dude-person) heads to the beverage aisle, directly adjacent to the till and namjoon holds his breath.
sharp nose, almond eyes, pink lips, pale-almost-translucent skin; namjoon concludes that this boy’s side profile was carved by the gods and mentally thanks science for the wonderful genetic combination that came to form this person’s face.
peppermint-boy stands in front of the cartons of milk, hand awkwardly poised in the air, not knowing what to pick up. namjoon takes the boy’s stock-still frame to properly look him up and down.
doc martens, black jeans, black leather jacket, choker.
namjoon does a double-take and looks down at himself.
doc martens.
black jeans.
black leather jacket.
namjoon narrows his eyes and purses his lips. his jacket is terribly identical to the mint-haired boy’s, down to the zips and lapels, though namjoon’s jacket is old and worn out, a token from taehyung’s vintage collection.
coincidence?
must be.
peppermint heads over to the till where namjoon is sat still on his stool, eyes staring at a speck on the counter, only to look up when the mint-haired customer clears his throat.
“–sorry,” namjoon says, grabbing the man’s purple basket and scanning the items one by one.
“s'okay.. namjoon,” the boy mumbles, glancing at the id hanging off his lanyard, and namjoon is surprised to hear the low tone.
“work’s slow?” namjoon nods and raises his head to make eye contact with the boy, offering a small smile that he hopes with crossed fingers doesn’t come across as a grimace. when the mint-haired boy offers one in return, namjoon’s heart plummets to the bottom of his stomach.
he finishes ringing the boy’s items, and namjoon make sure to discreetly graze his fingers against the other’s when he hands the receipt over.
they lock eyes again.
namjoon feigns calm and says, with a bigger smile, “have a nice day.”
the boy turns around, grasping his bag with one hand, and heads out the door, another chime ringing across the silent air of the store.
namjoon lets out a long breath and slumps in his seat.
well…shit.
the mint-haired boy comes back three days later, though namjoon’s not manning the till this time, hoseok is.
hoseok wasn’t an actual worker at the store until lately, more often than not here so he can see seokjin more frequently in between his dance practices, but the first time he’d worked the till, he said he’d quite liked the vibe and asked seokjin to hire him part-time. seokjin was quite opposed to hiring his boyfriend as a worker, but no one can really say no to hoseok when he’s determined.
namjoon’s stacking cartons of milk and jugs of juice when he hears the bell chime.
he tries to not pay attention to it, of course, it could be anyone but since his lame ass has been longing for peppermint to come back so namjoon can be blessedly in his presence again, he looks over his shoulder.
he sees peppermint floating around the aisles and his heart gets lodged up in his throat. he swallows hard.
namjoon turns back to the chilly aisle and once again starts to stack milk cartons. he hears footsteps behind him but stares resolutely at a barcode stuck to a carton of skimmed milk. a figure enters his peripheral vision and he mentally screams. he glances.
red high-top converse.
denim jeans with large rips.
loose white shirt.
everything identical to what namjoon is currently sporting.
namjoon thinks he’s died and this mint-haired boy is the light at the end of his tunnel. his insides begins to burn and wow is this what it feels like to be set on fire?
he places the last one on the shelf and turns to the mint-haired boy. they lock eyes and recognition flashes in yoongi’s eyes.
“hello. namjoon, right?” he says and namjoon wants to keep hearing his name fall from yoongi’s lips.
“y-yeah. back again?”
the boy nods. “yeah, my roommate spilled all the milk that i bought last time and– sorry, you probably don’t care,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand not holding onto his basket.
namjoon rapidly waves his hands. “nonono, it’s okay. i’m– i was actually wondering about your name? you know mine, but i keep calling you ‘peppermint’ in my head and-”
he’s interrupted by the sound of soft laughter and the boy is ducking his head, shoulders shaking and his free hand coming up to cover his mouth. he raises his head again and namjoon sees the mirth layered thick all over his face.
the boy grins. “i’m–”
“yoongi-hyung!”
both heads swivel round to face hoseok at the till. his face is alight with recognition and namjoon turns to see the same expression on yoongi’s face.
hoseok slips out from behind the counter and heads to namjoon and yoongi.
“hoseok-ah,” yoongi greets. “damn. i forgot seokjin hired you, too.” the last part is mumbled and namjoon thinks yoongi was muttering it to himself but his ears caught it anyway.
“seokjin hyung? you know him?” namjoon asks.
yoongi nods. “yeah, we were roommates back in college. he mostly kept me alive by cooking for me when i was a broke, useless senior struggling through term exams.”
namjoon and hoseok chuckle.
hoseok taps yoongi on the shoulder. “hyung! remember when–”
as hoseok launches into a tirade of anecdotes, namjoon zones out and peers at yoongi from the corner of his eye. hoseok’s loud voice left behind, namjoon can only focus on the way yoongi’s lips open and close and the way his eyes shine even under the ugly neon lighting they have in the store.
namjoon doesn’t see yoongi come around for another few days.
this time, namjoon’s manning the till again, sole worker in the store as the clock nears midnight.
namjoon pushes his sleeves up and feels around for his phone when the bell chimes and with it comes yoongi.
the mint-haired boy shuffles in, hands shoved inside the pockets of a black bomber jacket and the familiar ripped denim jeans.
yoongi turns his head towards namjoon and the corners of his lips turn up slightly when he spots him sitting on his stool, raising a hand in greeting before disappearing in between the aisles.
namjoon sees him head towards the beverage aisle, his eyes settling on a carton of orange juice on the highest row of the shelf. yoongi purses his lips and a calculating look appears on his face before he drops his basket and raises his arm.
namjoon watches yoongi get on his tippy-toes and he mentally screams at how cute the sight is.
he gets up from his seat and heads over to yoongi.
yoongi is still struggling, the carton just out of his reach when a big hand wraps around the carton and snatches it from the shelf. he turns to find namjoon looming above him, looking down at him with a slight smile on his face.
yoongi huffs and settles back on his heels.
“i almost had it, okay-” yoongi sniffles.
“did you really?”
okay, so yoongi was totally lying; he was two seconds away from stepping on one of the lower racks to boost himself up.
namjoon smirks as if he read yoongi’s mind and hands yoongi the carton to put in his basket and yoongi glares at the floor.
then narrows his eyes.
same shoes. same black vans.
namjoon’s are worn out and slightly dirty but it’s no mistaking that it’s the same as the one yoongi’s wearing.
yoongi’s eyes travel upwards and his eyebrows furrow at the sight of namjoon’s jacket.
same bomber jacket with the red insides.
“you know,” yoongi starts, raising his gaze higher to lock with namjoon’s, “we’re wearing identical clothing.”
namjoon nods slowly. “not the first time really,” he observes.
“every time you come by, we’re wearing identical clothing. the docs, the vans, the jackets. always identical.” he chuckles, rubbing the nape of his neck with a free hand and yoongi furrows his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything else.
it’s silent between them for a few, but neither boy dares to break the eye contact and namjoon keeps the smile on his face.
yoongi takes the time to look at namjoon up close.
silver hair, sharp jawline, soft eyes, chapped lips. yoongi mentally curses namjoon for also having deep dimples, because seriously does this guy have everything?
he thinks to himself that namjoon may be the most beautiful person he’s laid eyes on in his twenty-four years of living on this ugly earth, then lowers his head to hide the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks.
min yoongi doesn’t blush.
his eyes travel back down and he catches something inked onto namjoon’s exposed forearm.
“nice tat,” yoongi says, gesturing to the ink barely hidden by the pushed up sleeves of his jacket.
“yeah, one of many. kinda went crazy on the ink a few years ago.”
namjoon pushes his sleeve further up and now yoongi can see the tattoo in it’s entirety; an intricate anatomical heart.
it’s beautiful and very, very detailed and yoongi can’t help but notice two holes on either side of the heart. like something had pierced it and then yanked out. like–
like an arrow, yoongi realizes.
“hey, namjoon,” yoongi starts to ask, “why does your heart have two holes in it?”
he locks gazes with namjoon and he notes an indescribable look in namjoon’s eyes.
“oh, um, my friend, jeongguk, designed it for a project of his. his boyfriend, taehyung, is really big on romance and symbolism so he got jeongguk to draw a heart with an arrow through it," namjoon tells him.
"jeongguk was looking for a canvas to ink so i volunteered. taehyung then tells me the story of cupid’s arrow, when i’m lying in jeongguk’s chair, about to get needled. apparently if cupid shot you through the heart with an arrow while you were looking at someone, you’d hopelessly love them forever,” namjoon explains, eyes never leaving yoongi.
yoongi feels his throat clog and he feels a tiny bit lightheaded.
“you– you’re missing an arrow, though,” he notes.
“when jeongguk was about to tattoo it on me, taehyung stopped him and told him to exclude the arrow. said something about this being a way for me to find my ’soulmate’ in life. whatever that means,” namjoon furrows his eyebrows.
“so now i’m left with a pierced heart and no arrow. still looks cool, so i’m cool with it,” namjoon shrugs.
yoongi doesn’t say anything and just stares at the taller boy’s forearm, boring holes into the skin with his gaze. he’s staring so hard that he misses namjoon’s question for him.
“–yoongi? you okay?”
namjoon’s looking at him with a curious gaze with a slight smudge of worry.
he shakes his head to clear it. “yeah, i’m fine. i’m sorry, what was your question again?”
“i asked if you had any tats,” namjoon asks.
“yeah, i have a couple,” yoongi replies. “and by ’couple’ i mean about fifteen.”
namjoon chuckles.
“what of?”
yoongi throat feels as though there’s a boulder lodged in the middle of it and he finds it hard to swallow around his next words.
“um,” he says, clearing throat a little.
“i have an arrow.”
[“taehyung,” namjoon says lowly over the phone.
he hears taehyung swallow his bite before answering. “yeah, hyung?”
“i,” namjoon looks over at yoongi sitting on his couch, jacket thrown over the armrest, slumped sideways with his eyes fixed on the tv, an amused smile on his face.
“you what, joon-hyung?” taehyung prods.
namjoon grins. “i found my arrow.” namjoon’s grin widens even more when he hears taehyung choke on his food.
yoongi overhears that line and cranes his neck to look back at namjoon leaning against the window.
he grins, wide and gummy, and namjoon feels his world piece back together.
yeah, he thinks. yoongi’s definitely the arrow.]