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Renjun pushes his shopping cart through the automatic double doors and lets the rush of air conditioning wash over his face. It’s newly spring, finally warm enough to leave the house this early without a jacket, but the store is still freezing. Goosebumps rise on his arms almost immediately. He never understands how grocery stores manage to feel like this year round, like the temperature is permanently set to refrigeration.
He pushes his sunglasses up onto his head to keep his bangs out of his eyes and spots Donghyuck behind the customer service counter. He is helping a customer, smiling in that easy way he does when he is working, so Renjun doesn’t go over. He usually says hi at some point, but right now he’s busy and Renjun won’t bother him.
Renjun likes grocery shopping early. Crowded stores are the worst part of being alive and a crowded Trader Joe's is hell on earth. Early mornings mean quiet aisles that afford him the luxury of leisurely strolling up and down them at his own pace. He reads ingredient labels for fun while filling his phone’s Google search history with things like “what goes with harissa,” “artichoke heart recipes,” and “what does camembert taste like?”
Even though Trader Joe's is half trendy convenience foods and half overly curated gentrified food items he could find much cheaper at his local international foods market, he still goes there for a few staples. He sorts through his mental list:
Two bags of chopped kale
The green goddess salad kit he likes
Soy milk creamer
Strawberry vanilla Greek yogurt
Heirloom baby tomatoes
He sees they have a great price so he tacks on a few loose sweet potatoes.
He is digging through the freezer section for a bag of frozen mixed berries that hasn’t clumped itself into one solid block when a voice comes from just behind him.
“Good morning, Renjun.”
He startles slightly, then recovers quickly, turning around and dropping the berries into his cart. “Hi, Donghyuck.”
Where his younger coworkers usually leave their shirts untucked and stick to jeans, Donghyuck is standing there in his brightly colored floral uniform shirt tucked into khakis with a belt. The outfit still reads as casual, but with a little “this is probably someone’s dad” energy to it. If he was allowed to have his phone on the floor, he would probably wear it on a belt clip. Renjun thinks it’s cute.
“I have something for you,” Donghyuck says, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Before Renjun can respond, he produces a box from behind his back. Iced lemon shortbread cookies. The ones Renjun had been talking about last week, half complaining that he wished they could just make them a permanent item and half excited that they were probably coming back soon since the season had changed.
“My cookies!” Renjun smiles, grabbing the box from his hands. “I feel like these are back even earlier this season than last year.”
Donghyuck pulls another box from behind his back. “I put two aside for you because I wasn’t sure how many you wanted, but we have more in the back if you want them, they haven’t been put out on the floor yet.”
“Thank you.” Renjun can’t help the smile that stays on his face. He never expected in all his years of life he would be giggling over getting special VIP treatment at Trader Joe's.
“Your wine is also back,” Donghyuck adds. “I didn’t want to make any assumptions about your drinking habits, so I didn’t set any aside, but there’s plenty on the floor right now.”
In the conversation where he had mentioned that he had been impatiently waiting for the cookies to return for the season, he had also mentioned a bottle of strawberry sparkling wine he bought last year, really enjoyed, and then waited too long to go back for before it disappeared. He didn’t really expect Donghyuck to remember either of those things, at least not in any deliberate way. But as he gets to know him more, it’s starting to feel less surprising than it probably should.
“I don’t know if I want a repeat of what happened last year,” Renjun says, “I may need to stock up.”
“I’ll show you where they’re stocked,” Donghyuck says, placing a hand on the side of Renjun’s shopping cart and leading him towards the aisle.
In the end, Donghyuck can’t stay with him the whole time. Eventually his manager finds him and tells him he is needed up front. He leaves with an apology, smiling warmly at Renjun, “I’ll see you on your way out.” He touches Renjun lightly on the arm before jogging back to his usual post.
Renjun continues his usual slow loop through the store, only three bottles of the sparkling wine in his cart because that feels reasonable, plus, he will ask Donghyuck to let him know when stock is getting low so he can come in and reup. He has gotten everything on his list plus some, including a few extras for a bean salad his niece sent him a recipe for, because she said she thought he would like it, and he trusts her judgment on things like this. They have very similar food tastes.
On his way to the registers, he keeps glances towards the customer service desk. Donghyuck isn’t helping anyone currently, but he is diligently writing something down in a binder.
This whole thing started about six months ago, when he ended up in Donghyuck’s line by chance. An overly friendly man with salt and pepper hair, long enough to tuck behind his ears but nicely cropped around his neck and side burns with a name tag that read “Donghyuck” started ringing him up and talking like they had known each other for years. Renjun knows the drill, that’s kind of the whole joke with Trader Joe's employees. They are supposed to talk to you like they are your friends, offer you suggestions, tell you things they like.
“I swear by this onion salt.”
“I haven’t tried the sweet potato gnocchi, is it good?”
“You know what goes amazingly with this hummus? The cornbread crisps. You have to trust me.”
Renjun did in fact trust him, he had no reason not to, especially when Donghyuck left the register to go grab a bag off the end cap for him. They were, in fact, delicious.
Their conversations escalated from there. Maybe flirting? Renjun thought he would be able to tell by now. Donghyuck happened to be working every single time Renjun came to do his early morning shopping routine but he wasn’t always at the registers. Most Sunday mornings lately he was at customer service or running one of the sample stations.
“My manager says I talk too much and it’s holding up the lines,” he had told Renjun once while handing out chili lime cashews. “So he moved me to stations where my job is to talk too much.” Renjun had been camping out at the little table under the guise of trying the snack but he also didn’t want to miss out on his opportunity to talk to Donghyuck that day. Renjun had eaten three of the little sample cups already.
“These are really good though,” he had said. “I’m buying a bag.”
Now, when he is ready to check out, he slows near the registers without fully committing. It is not that there is a lack of open lanes, there are plenty, it is just that none of them have Renjun’s favorite employee manning them.
Donghyuck looks up, searching, and catches his eye from across the front of the store, he drops his pen and steps down from the customer service area waving Renjun over to the nearest empty cash register. “I can take you over here, Renjun.”
—
Renjun has a list of grocery stores he goes to on the regular. He’s probably in the small minority of people who actually really love grocery shopping. Each place has its own charm and its own items he gets from each one. Trader Joe's is for produce and very specifically flavored seasonal drinks and fun snacks he absolutely does not need but somehow always buys anyway. Whole Food's is for vitamins, the overpriced bottled fresh juices he likes, and the forty-dollar jar of Manuka honey he swears by.
Tonight he’s at the regular big box store near his office where he gets all his normal stuff like proteins and household essentials. They also have buy one get one free sales that rotate every week, and he likes checking what those are. This week his favorite oat milk is on sale, and so are the bran flakes he eats for breakfast every morning, so it’s a good week.
He’s exhausted. He didn’t leave the office until after six and strongly debated getting takeout because he didn’t feel like cooking, but since he was going to the grocery store anyway he decided to check out what they have in the premade ready-to-cook section. He finds a pretty good-looking salmon fillet with a lemon herb compound butter on top. It even comes in a little metal tin he can put right in the oven. He’ll have that with a salad kit and call it a night.
Renjun makes his way from the seafood section over toward where he knows the bran flakes are. He probably still has half a box left but he can never pass up a deal. As soon as he turns the corner into the cereal aisle, he’s met with a familiar figure.
Dressed much differently than Renjun is used to seeing him, instead of his usual flamboyant Trader Joe’s uniform, Donghyuck stands in a plain t-shirt, shorts, and boat shoes. Dressed down and comfortable for sure but still stylish. He’s completely absorbed in reading the back of a supremely colorful cereal box when Renjun pushes his cart past him, then stops and steps right beside him, pretending to study what’s in front of him on the shelves.
“I’ve never tried that flavor before,” Renjun says casually, peering at the box. “Is it good?”
Donghyuck startles just slightly before looking over with a grin. “What a pleasant surprise seeing you here, Renjun.”
Renjun smirks. “I didn’t know you were allowed in other grocery stores. How did you even get in here?”
“I had to come in disguise,” Donghyuck says, gesturing down at himself. “Obviously.”
Renjun giggles and nods toward the cereal. “Do you really eat that?”
“Oh no.” Donghyuck shakes his head. “I’m babysitting my grandkids tonight. These are contraband snacks for after their parents leave and we can finally have fun.” He gestures vaguely to the assortment of things in his hand basket.
Renjun takes a look inside and immediately sees the severity of the situation. Two bags of chips. Juice boxes. Frozen cookie dough. Donghyuck casually drops the cereal box in next, and Renjun realizes it isn’t even cereal at all. It’s just freeze-dried rainbow marshmallows with an aggressively cheerful alien mascot on the front.
“I’m gonna hit the ice cream freezer on the way out too,” Donghyuck adds.
“Of course you are.”
“Hey, their parents know the deal,” he says, completely unbothered. “When the kids are with me, we do what I want. And I want whatever my grandbabies want.”
He says it so smug and proud, and Renjun can’t help but be charmed by it.
“How old are they?” Renjun asks.
Donghyuck has mentioned them before, scattered through brief conversations at the register while ringing up groceries, but never with specifics. Renjun knows there’s a son, a daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren who seem to be the center of Donghyuck’s entire universe whenever they come up.
“Five and two,” Donghyuck says. “They can both mostly talk now, which means they’ve learned they can boss me around.”
He pulls his phone from his back pocket, taps the screen a few times, and turns it around to show a text thread filled with emojis and voice messages.
“The oldest learned how to text me from his iPad.”
He presses the most recent voice note and turns the volume all the way up. A tiny voice comes through in a whisper.
“Hi Grandpaaa… I want chips and ice cream, okay? The good chips. And cookie dough too. But we gotta cook it first, because it made my tummy hurt last time and I didn’t like that.”
There’s a pause filled with heavy breathing, rustling, and babble Renjun can’t quite make out. He thinks he hears the words juice and popsicle and assumes that’s the two-year-old contributing to the negotiation. More rustling follows, then a distant male voice calls out that it’s bath time.
“Okay Grandpa, we gotta go. Daddy says bath time. Love you, bye bye.”
A beat.
“Don’t forget the chips.”
Renjun laughs before he can stop himself. “Your grandchildren are taking advantage of you.”
“They absolutely are.”
“And you’re just letting it happen.”
“I am here on my own free will,” Donghyuck says, far too pleased with himself.
Renjun laughs harder at that, and Donghyuck looks like he’s won something.
“If you think this is bad,” Donghyuck says, “the five-year-old almost convinced me that since some of his Easter candy was shaped like carrots, it was technically vegetables.”
Renjun lets out a short laugh. “Wait, that’s kind of genius.”
“We were doing shapes and colors,” Donghyuck continues, “and I used carrots as an example for classification. How things look, what they are. Very educational, very responsible of me. Then later that night, he came back and said he should be allowed to eat his entire Easter basket for dinner because there were vegetables in it. He was using my own words against me!”
“Oh my gosh,” Renjun says, grinning. “He’s so smart.”
“He really is,” Donghyuck agrees. “My son is so much like his mother. He was such an easy, calm kid,” He exhales a small laugh, “But I was a little hellion. And this kid takes right after me.”
“How does that not surprise me at all, actually?” Renjun says.
Donghyuck winks at him.
“What are you up to tonight?” he asks, shifting gears, bringing the attention to Renjun. “You seem to spend all your free time in grocery stores.”
“Hey!” Renjun protests. “And what if I do? What if I love harsh overhead fluorescent lighting and classic pop music from the late 80s?”
“Who doesn’t,” Donghyuck says immediately. “I was listening to Hall and Oates on the way over here.” He runs his free hand through his hair, exposing the much lighter gray areas around his hairline and temples. He still has a nice full thick head of hair. Renjun thinks he is so handsome.
“I just needed some random stuff I was out of and something to eat for dinner tonight.” Renjun gestures toward his cart.
Donghyuck sees the packaged salmon in his cart and tries to not make a face. “Oh. Yum.”
Renjun swats at him. “Well, you aren’t eating it!”
Donghyuck laughs, dodging easily. “Okay, okay, I get it. I get it.”
“You want some more classified Trader Joe’s information?” he says, lowering his voice and leaning in conspiratorially. “Swordfish steaks go out next week. But we actually got the shipment yesterday, and I’m allowed to take some early before it hits the floor. How about you let me cook for you?”
“Oh,” Renjun says. He’s a little shocked to say the least. He feels like what him and Donghyuck have been doing is flirting but you can never be so sure. Maybe it wasn’t? Maybe Donghyuck was just inviting him over to share a great recipe. To be honest, this kind of thing was a lot easier to figure out when he was younger and more practiced.
“It’s one of my specialties,” Donghyuck says. “ I’d love to make it for you.”
Before Renjun can respond, Donghyuck’s phone buzzes. He takes his phone out and glances at the screen. “My son,” he says. “I’ve gotta head out. The kids are eating dinner and I need to get over there so they can make it to their movie night.”
“Of course. You can’t keep the kids waiting.”
Donghyuck hesitates for a second, maybe waiting to see if Renjun responds to his request before taking a step to leave, maybe chalking it up to a loss.
“You should give me your number,” Renjun says, stopping him. “So you can tell me where to go for that fish you’re going to make me.”
Donghyuck's smile is effervescent. They exchange numbers quickly, as Donghyuck really does need to be on his way.
“Don’t forget your popsicles.” Renjun calls out to his back.
Later that night, Donghyuck texts Renjun a photo of a tray of freshly baked cookies, three already missing, followed by a picture of a box of popsicles with only five left inside.
Donghyuck:
There used to be twelve in this box.
Renjun laugh reacts to the message but sends back a shocked face emoji.
Just after ten, when he’s thoroughly snuggled into bed and halfway into that drowsy space where he should probably stop looking at his phone, it buzzes again with another message from Donghyuck.
It’s a photo of two small lumps under a blanket on a king-size bed, the blue flicker of a television casting soft light over the room, with one little foot sticking out.
Donghyuck:
I think they hit the level of sugar where instead of getting hyper they just pass out. Their parents will be back in an hour. I’ve thrown away all the evidence. No one will be the wiser. I’m a great babysitter.
Renjun:
I never doubted you for a second.
Renjun watches the bubble of three dots pop up and disappear a few times, he almost puts his phone away before it buzzes again.
Donghyuck:
I was asking you on a date earlier. If that wasn’t clear. I’m a bit out of practice.
Renjun almost drops his phone on his face.
Renjun:
I was hoping you were, but I didn’t want to assume.
His response comes quick.
Donghyuck:
Okay great. I was a little worried, honestly. Does that mean you still want to?
Go on a date with me, that is.
Renjun:
Yes Donghyuck, I would very much like to go on a date with you.
—
The date ends up being later that week on Friday night, and Renjun takes a work from home day where he attends exactly two Teams meetings before spending the rest of the afternoon stressing over what he is going to wear and carefully assembling a very pretty berry trifle to bring for dessert.
He pulls up to Donghyuck’s house at exactly 7 p.m., finding it tucked into a quiet, unassuming neighborhood lined with modest houses. The yards are neatly kept but still feel lived in, not at all stiff or cookie cutter, with basketball hoops over driveways and bikes tipped over in the grass. Donghyuck’s yard has a swing set and one of those toddler sized plastic playhouses, and the porch light casts a soft glow over a rocking chair and a bench dotted with a few plant pots. The homeyness of it all settles something in his chest and makes him feel a little less nervous as he walks up and rings the doorbell.
Donghyuck answers with a warm smile, dressed in a light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of khaki dress pants that Renjun can immediately tell are not the same ones he wears to work. There is a dish towel slung over his shoulder like he just stepped out of the kitchen.
“Hello Renjun, welcome to my house. Come in.” Before stepping back to let him inside, Donghyuck leans in, slipping an arm lightly around Renjun’s back in a one armed hug and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, brief and polite enough for a first date but intentional enough to make Renjun’s stomach flutter.
“Thank you for inviting me. You look handsome,” Renjun says, a little breathless as he means it, returning the light hug with his free arm. Then he slips off his shoes in the foyer and follows Donghyuck toward the kitchen.
“Thank you.” Donghyuck blushes just a little under his usual confident demeanor and gives Renjun a very brief tour of his house. The inside is exactly what Renjun expected, filled with the kind of easy homeyness that comes from a place that raised a child and, if Donghyuck is to be believed, still regularly entertains small ones. The front room is tidy, with a piano and a guitar resting in a stand against the wall, along with a desk and a few chairs that give it the quiet feeling of an office. Beyond that, the rest of the house carries the same soft, lived in warmth as the yard outside, with older furniture worn in all the right places and an abundance of details that make the space feel full rather than cluttered, photos lining the walls and small knickknacks tucked onto shelves, each one seeming to hold a memory or a story. Renjun loves places like this, even if his own condo is stylish and carefully decorated, because it still sometimes feels a little too modern and a little too cold for him.
Donghyuck gestures for Renjun to set his trifle on the counter and then goes to pull the fish out from under the broiler.
“It smells so good in here,” Renjun says, taking in the warm, buttery scent hanging in the air.
The fish sizzles in a pan of butter, lemon, and herbs, looking perfectly moist and golden. Donghyuck had spent the whole week texting him, trying to gather clues about what kinds of flavors Renjun liked, what vegetables he preferred, how adventurous an eater he was. Renjun mostly dodged the questions, answering vaguely because he wanted Donghyuck to guess, but mostly because he wanted to see what kind of meal he would make based on whatever impression he had formed of him over these past few months of getting to know each other. The truth is, Renjun would eat almost anything. He doesn’t have any major food allergies or real dislikes, and he will try just about anything at least twice.
Donghyuck ends up serving a beautiful swordfish steak over perfectly fluffy wild rice pilaf, alongside sweet glazed roasted carrots and a little salad of microgreens dressed in a bright, zingy citrus vinaigrette. Renjun can tell Donghyuck is confident in the meal, but still nervous to see whether he likes it. He watches him like a hawk as he takes his first bite, not even touching his own food before getting Renjun’s approval. He has no reason to be nervous, of course, because the food is delicious.
“This is delicious,” Renjun says honestly.
“I’m really glad you like it,” Donghyuck says, relief evident in his voice. “I love cooking, and raising a kid who would eat literally anything made it easy for me to keep getting more ambitious in the kitchen. Jisung was never one of those children you had to negotiate with over vegetables. He’d try anything I put in front of him, which made me want to keep learning and making more.”
The conversation flows easily after that. Even though Renjun feels like they have already gotten to know each other so well over these past months in their meetings at Trader Joe’s, there is never a lull in the conversation, only an easy movement from one subject to the next that makes the evening feel effortless. They drift through dinner and into dessert, where Donghyuck lets out a dramatic moan as he takes his first bite of trifle.
“Oh my gosh, Renjun, this is heavenly. Is this fresh whipped cream?” He lifts his spoon closer to his face to inspect it. “I can see specks of fresh vanilla in it. It has to be.”
“Yes, and the berries are macerated in a little brandy.”
“I can taste it,” Donghyuck says, going back for another bite almost immediately. “This is marvelous.”
After dessert, they move to the couch, the living room lit only by a few lamps glowing softly in the corners. Renjun has a glass of that strawberry sparkling wine he loves, the one Donghyuck made sure to have chilling in the fridge just for him. He swirls the wine for a moment, studying Donghyuck over the rim of the glass before asking, “Can I ask you something I’ve been wondering?”
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
“How old are you?”
Donghyuck smiles. “Fifty. I’ll be fifty-one in a couple of months, actually.”
Renjun’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding. My birthday just passed. I just turned fifty-one.”
“I was actually wondering about that,” Donghyuck says. “I thought you might be younger than me.”
Renjun scoffs.
“I didn’t think by much,” Donghyuck says quickly, laughing. “But I thought I might have a few good years on you. I wondered if you’d be bothered that some weird old man was hitting on you at the grocery store.”
“You are not old. We are not old,” Renjun insists.
“It definitely feels like it some days,” Donghyuck says with a laugh.
They are sitting close together on the couch now, close enough that Renjun is aware of the warmth of Donghyuck beside him. He tucks his socked feet underneath himself, settling in more comfortably.
“For the record, I did not think some weird old man was hitting on me at the grocery store. I thought a very handsome man with great hair was flirting with me while ringing up my groceries. At least I hoped he was flirting, anyway.”
Donghyuck reaches out and lightly touches the hand Renjun has resting along the back of the couch. “Definitely flirting.”
There is a warm little pause while Donghyuck strokes the skin at the back of Renjun’s hand, both of them smiling, before he asks, “Tell me more about yourself. Do you have children?”
Renjun shakes his head. “No. It just wasn’t the life I ended up building for myself. I devoted myself to school and then my career, and after a while you look up and twenty years have passed, along with some of those other life milestones.” He doesn’t say it with sadness, because he isn’t sad about it. He loves the life he has made for himself. “Though I’ve made a real art form out of being the cool rich gay uncle to my sister’s two kids,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.
Donghyuck smirks. “Oh yes? And you take that role very seriously?”
“Oh, I do. I spoil them shamelessly, especially when they were younger. I gave inappropriate advice and bought extravagant, noisy Christmas gifts specifically designed to annoy their parents. The whole nine yards.” He takes a sip of wine, then adds, “And now the oldest just had a baby, which I think technically makes me a grand uncle.”
Donghyuck laughs. “A grand uncle. That’s so cute.”
Renjun smiles wide. “It’s so crazy, because to me she is still just a kid, you know? When she was sixteen I took her to get her bellybutton pierced without her mom knowing. Lied to the piercer and told them I was her dad and everything.”
Donghyuck turns toward him. “You didn’t.”
“I’m not proud of it now that I look back on it,” Renjun says, laughing. “But she was a good kid, and her mom was so against her getting it done. I didn’t see what the big deal was. We only managed to keep it secret for a few months before I got the angriest phone call from her mother. She hadn’t yelled at me like that since we were kids.” He laughs again. “It’s all good now. She got over it.”
“Are you close with your sister?”
“Really close. Which means I’m close to her kids too. Sometimes I feel like they could almost be my kids, you know?”
“And now you’re a grand uncle.”
“I am,” Renjun says, smiling. “I was actually the first person she told she was pregnant, even before her mom. She was freaking out and needed someone to talk to. I don’t know what her deal was, she is fully married and actively trying to get pregnant, so it wasn’t exactly shocking, but I think it was just a mix of emotions. I love that she still calls me when she needs me.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“My other niece lives in China, so I don’t get to see her often, but she texts me when she can.”
“It’s wonderful that you have that kind of relationship with them. I wasn’t close to my aunts or uncles outside of seeing them at family reunions and things.”
“Yeah, me either. But I like it. Keeps me young,” Renjun jokes.
Donghyuck smiles. “What do you do for work?”
“I’m the director of the interior design department at a real estate agency.”
Donghyuck blinks. “Oh. I can’t really even pretend to know what that entails. Like staging houses to be sold?”
“Not exactly, mostly emails and meetings.”
Donghyuck laughs.
“I’m an interior designer by trade, but now I run the department and manage the designers under me. We furnish big corporate office buildings, which is not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. A lot of beige square furniture and generic wall art.”
“But do you like it?”
“The job is easy,” Renjun says. “I worked my way up to the position I’m in now, and I’m proud of that, but I do miss working for smaller firms and getting to do more hands-on projects. There was something really fun about a family coming to you and having to figure out how to outfit a kitchen or a bathroom to fit a certain aesthetic on a certain budget, especially when you had eccentric clients. There was a challenge to it.” He smiles. “Now it’s mostly super rich businessmen with an infinite budget trying to make an office look as boring as possible.”
Donghyuck laughs. “That sounds tragic, actually.”
“It is tragic,” Renjun says solemnly.
“Enough about me.” Renjun says. “You have a son. Tell me about him.”
Donghyuck smiles big, like he loves any excuse to talk about his pride and joy. “Jisung. He just turned thirty.”
“Thirty,” Renjun says. “That must feel surreal.”
“It does. I still have moments where I see him and he’s four years old sitting under the table playing with his toys while I’m cooking dinner and trying to study for my finals at the same time.”
Renjun smiles. “You had him young?”
“I did. I married young too. Jisung’s mother was my high school sweetheart.”
Renjun lifts his brows, curious but careful. “That surprises me a little.”
“I know,” Donghyuck says with a faint smile. “It surprised everyone.”
He takes a moment before continuing.
“The truth is, I loved her fiercely. I really did. And I think sometimes people hear a story like mine and assume the marriage must have been false, or that I was pretending, but it wasn’t like that. I didn’t know I was gay. I had never really thought about it. I grew up singing in my home church. My best friend’s dad was our pastor.” He gives a quiet, almost self-aware laugh. “I just genuinely believed loving her could be enough. I thought if I did all the things I was supposed to do to build a happy life, then happiness would follow.”
Renjun doesn’t interrupt.
“I was doing what I thought people did. Marriage. Family. College. I got a good job. I thought if I followed the script closely enough, it would fit.”
“And it didn’t?”
Donghyuck shakes his head. “Not forever. We grew apart. And eventually I had to confront a part of myself I honestly didn’t think I would ever have to confront.”
“That must have been terrifying.”
Donghyuck nods. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“But you stayed close?” Renjun asks, glancing for a moment toward the photos he has been quietly noticing around the house all evening, a woman and Donghyuck posed beside what looks like Jisung at different ages, from a lanky preteen to a teenager, and even one that looks as though it might have been taken on Jisung’s wedding day.
“We found our way back to friendship eventually,” he says. “It took time, and healing on both sides, but we became very good co-parents. She remarried, had two more children with a wonderful man, and I genuinely think he’s great. We all spend holidays together sometimes. It’s unconventional, maybe, but it works.”
“That’s a beautiful story.”
Donghyuck smiles. “It was a painful story first.”
“I like that you ended up as sort of one big happy family. You don’t usually hear that.”
“Yes. I am very grateful.”
“So I assume you haven’t always worked at Trader Joe’s?” Renjun asks, his tone teasing but genuinely curious.
Donghyuck smiles, almost sheepish for a second, as if he forgets sometimes that what he did for most of his life might sound interesting to someone else. “I was a high school choir director for twenty-six years.”
“Twenty-six years,” Renjun repeats exasperatedly.
“Yep. It was an arts magnet school with a very serious vocal performance program. We were sending kids to Juilliard and shit.”
Renjun’s eyebrows lift. “That’s amazing!”
Donghyuck laughs, though there is something tender in it. “It was a lot, but I loved it. On top of teaching, I was traveling constantly once competition season kicked in. State festivals, national competitions, all of it. I even drove students to auditions myself when their parents couldn’t. Looking back, I realize how much of my life I poured into those kids.”
“You sound like you really cared about your students.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Donghyuck smiles. “But after twenty-six years, I was getting a little burnt out. Plus, the grandkids were getting older. Their mom wanted to go back to work full time, and I wanted to help. So last year I stepped down.”
“How has it been?”
He takes a sip of wine, almost forgotten in their conversation. “I still teach private voice lessons out of the house, though, so I haven’t fully escaped. I still have students coming through here all week. But even with that, it’s been a bigger change than I expected. I thought I’d enjoy the rest, but after a few months I started getting bored.”
“And is that what brings us to Trader Joe’s?”
“That is what brings us to Trader Joe’s.” Donghyuck laughs. “The short explanation is that I started bothering all the employees there until they jokingly offered me a job, and I took it.”
Renjun shakes his head, grinning. “I don’t know what else I expected from you. What’s your version of the long explanation?”
“I was in there every day, basically,” Donghyuck continued. “I’d just wander around thinking about what I wanted to cook for dinner based on what produce was looking good. Then I started striking up conversations with the employees. I was there so much I knew where everything in the store was, and I’d sometimes help people find things if there wasn’t an associate around, or recommend products since I had tasted basically everything in the store. Then one day the store manager jokingly said she should be paying me if I was going to be doing work, and I said I’d take her up on that offer. And now it’s been… about eight months?”
Renjun laughs and lifts his glass. “That story sounds exactly like you.”
“I only work part time,” Donghyuck says. “Usually the Sunday morning opening shift, and I pick up a few shifts here and there if they really need someone. I mostly use it as an excuse to get out of the house.”
“Is it weird if I say that’s really cute?”
“Cute?” Donghyuck gasps in mock offense. “What happened to handsome? You’ve called me handsome several times tonight.”
“You can be both cute and handsome.” Renjun sets his empty wine glass down on the coffee table. “And what about me? You haven’t said anything about how I look tonight.” The question comes out bolder than he means for it to, and he isn’t entirely sure where the nerve comes from. Maybe the wine. Maybe the way Donghyuck has been looking at him all evening.
Donghyuck finishes the last of his wine and sets his glass down too. Then he lifts the hand that had been resting over Renjun’s and brings it to his face, stroking lightly along his cheek. “Renjun,” he says, almost softly, “you look beautiful tonight. I hadn’t said anything because I couldn’t think of a word grand enough for how beautiful I think you are.”
“Oh, smooth talker,” Renjun says, though his voice has gone quieter now as he scoots a little closer. Donghyuck’s hand is soft against his cheek, though Renjun can feel the faintest roughness of calluses there, not the hands of a man who does hard labor, but the hands of someone who has spent a lifetime touching instruments and turning pages of music.
Donghyuck’s thumb brushes once beneath his cheekbone. “Would it be out of line to ask if I can kiss you? I know it’s our first date, but…”
Renjun nods before Donghyuck can even finish, leaning into him, and Donghyuck closes the small distance left between them. Their lips meet softly, almost cautiously at first, the kiss gentle and searching. Renjun can feel the restraint in it, the deliberate tenderness of someone trying very hard to be respectful, trying not to rush what has taken months to arrive. But beneath that restraint is something warm and soft.
When they part, it is only by a breath. Renjun lingers there, close enough to feel Donghyuck exhale against his mouth, close enough to see the slight surprise in his eyes, as though maybe he had not expected the kiss to feel this charged either. Then Renjun tilts his head a little and presses back in.
This time the kiss deepens. Renjun can feel Donghyuck hesitate for only a second before giving in, as if both of them have silently agreed there is no need to pretend they haven’t been moving toward this for a long time. Donghyuck’s hand slips from Renjun’s cheek to the side of his neck, holding him there with a touch so careful it makes Renjun’s chest ache.
Renjun lets one hand come to rest against Donghyuck’s shoulder, then higher, fingers brushing the back of his neck and tangling lightly in his hair as he shifts closer. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time, hasn’t been kissed like this in what feels like forever. Donghyuck’s mouth tastes faintly sweet from the wine and their dessert, and Renjun finds himself wanting to get a little lost in it.
The room is quiet around them, just the sound of their breathing and the soft movement of their mouths against each other, until the distinct sound of a FaceTime call cuts through from Donghyuck’s phone on the coffee table.
They break apart at once. Donghyuck reaches over quickly, a little flustered, to silence it.
“I’m so sorry, I thought I had this on do not disturb,” he says, glancing at the screen. Then his expression shifts when he sees the caller ID. “It’s my son.”
It’s just past nine, Renjun notices. “Answer it,” he says gently. “It might be an emergency. It’s okay.”
Donghyuck wipes a hand over his mouth and runs the other through his hair once, like he is trying to pull himself back together, before picking up. “Hi,” he says, still a little breathless. “Is everything okay?”
“Hi dad, I’m sorry,” Jisung’s voice comes through, sounding frazzled. He isn’t looking at the camera, and it looks like he is holding the phone while trying to tuck a blanket back around a child at the same time. “Joonie won’t go back to sleep until he says goodnight to you. We tried everything.”
Renjun shifts slightly, trying not to be in the frame, but apparently not well enough, because Jisung’s eyes flick up and widen.
“Oh my god,” he blurts. “You said you had company tonight, I forgot. I’m so sorry. I’ll hang up. Joonie, say goodnight to Grandpa, he’s busy—he can’t talk right now.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Donghyuck interrupts quickly. “Just give him the phone.”
Jisung hesitates, still pink with embarrassment, then carefully passes the phone down.
A small face fills the screen, pressed far too close to the camera, but Renjun can immediately tell this is the five-year-old Donghyuck has mentioned.
“Hi, Grandpa,” the child says solemnly.
“Hi, baby,” Donghyuck softens instantly. “You wanted to say goodnight?”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding very serious about it. “You didn’t say goodnight to me before bed so I couldn’t fall asleep.”
Donghyuck huffs a small laugh. “I did say goodnight earlier, remember? When you were eating dinner? I told you I was going to be busy at bedtime so I couldn’t call you, so I said it then.”
“I know,” the child says, utterly unbothered, “but that doesn’t count because I wasn’t going to sleep yet. I was eating dinner.”
Donghyuck closes his eyes for a second like he is trying not to laugh. “Okay, baby. Then goodnight, okay? No more stressing your dad out.”
“Night night, Grandpa. Love you.”
“I love you too.”
The phone shifts, and Jisung reappears quickly. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I’ll let you go. Goodnight. Love you.” He rushes it all out in one breath, still clearly mortified.
Donghyuck opens his mouth to answer, but Jisung is already hanging up.
Silence settles back into the room. Donghyuck lets out a quiet laugh as he sets the phone down again. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” Renjun says, smiling. “That was actually very cute. Your grandson was so determined to say goodnight to you that he terrorized his entire household.”
Donghyuck laughs properly now, turning back toward him and leaning in a little like he can’t help it. “Yeah.”
Jisung looked so embarrassed, Renjun thinks, still smiling. “You told him about me?”
“Well, yes,” Donghyuck admits. “I told him I met someone and that I was having them over for dinner tonight.”
“Like met someone met someone?”
“Yes,” Donghyuck says, and there is a faint blush on his cheeks now. “I didn’t really date when he was growing up, so I think he doesn’t quite know how to react about it yet. But he’s excited for me. He wants me to be happy.”
Renjun hums. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, my niece has already looked you up and stalked your Facebook. The only thing I told her was your name and where you work. She’s practically some kind of cyber hacker.”
Donghyuck laughs. “Oh no. Does she have opinions of me?”
Renjun tilts his head. “She says you are very attractive for your age.”
Donghyuck lets out a loud, delighted cackle. “For my age! Well. I guess I’ll take it.”
They are both still smiling when the laughter fades, the moment settling back into something soft and quiet again. Donghyuck studies Renjun for a second, then leans in and gives him a soft kiss on the mouth.
“Hey,” he says gently. “It’s getting a little late but I don’t want to let you go quite yet.”
Renjun hums, still close enough that he can feel Donghyuck’s breath when he talks.
“Would you like to stay the night? I just mean we can just watch a movie. And in the morning I would love to make you breakfast.”
Renjun smiles slyly. “What kind of breakfast?”
Donghyuck’s eyes brighten immediately. “Anything you want. I have a box of the Trader Joe’s ube pancake mix. I keep it specifically for special guests.”
“Damn that pancake mix is really good.” Renjun pretends to think about it before leaning in and kissing Donghyuck again, slow and deep, a little dirty with a promise at the end. He leans away just a hair to say. “Yeah, I’d love that.”