Work Text:
“This week’s flavours are ass,” Jiseok announces, glaring at the new list propped beside the sink while he rinses the ice-cream scoops beneath the tap.
Most of the names have been dressed up to sound far more exciting than they really are; brown sugar cheesecake, double chocolate fudge, honeycomb custard, and some ridiculous cream-filled strawberry concoction that would probably leave him curled up on the staff-room floor after a single bite.
“They’re ass to you because you’re lactose intolerant,” Hyeongjun says from the other end of the counter, where he is filling the napkin dispensers before opening. “You work at an ice-cream shop. I don’t know what kind of consideration you were expecting.”
“That means they should be more considerate of people like me!” Jiseok argues, dropping another scoop into the container with an irritated clatter. “Where’s the representation? Where are my options?”
“There’s lemon sorbet.”
“Boring.”
“And cucumber mint.”
Jiseok turns off the tap and stares at him. “Cucumber shouldn’t even be a dessert!”
Hyeongjun shuts the final dispenser and reaches across the counter to turn the flavour list facedown before Jiseok can find anything else to complain about. “Whatever. Dry those and put them back. We need to open.”
Jiseok mutters something about workplace discrimination but reaches for the towel anyway. Hyeongjun heads for the entrance, flips the sign to OPEN, and unlocks the glass door beneath the enormous pink logo plastered across it: SCOOP ME UP!
“I still can’t believe they named this place like that,” Jiseok says.
“Start believing. You have to say it in thirty seconds.”
Right on cue, the first customer pushes through the door. The bell overhead chimes, leaving Jiseok with no choice but to straighten his apron and summon whatever remained of his customer-service voice.
“Welcome to Scoop Me Up!”
The words make something inside him shrivel.
By the time evening arrives, Jiseok has been forced to say the shop’s name enough times for it to lose all meaning, though not nearly enough for the embarrassment to disappear. The shop finally empties after the dinner crowd, leaving him slumped against the counter while Hyeongjun wipes down the tables.
“I swear I’ll never get used to saying that name out loud,” Jiseok complains again. “‘Welcome to Scoop Me Up.’ What am I asking them to scoop? Why am I the one being scooped?”
Hyeongjun drags the cloth across another table without looking up. “Suck it up. We need the money, don’t we?”
“If only I were rich enough to buy the guitar I want without sacrificing my dignity for minimum wage.” Jiseok releases a long sigh and pulls out his phone from his apron pocket, checking the time. The misery leaves him when he sees the number on the screen. “Oh. It’s almost six.”
He pushes himself away from the counter and opens the front camera, turning his head slightly as he examines his reflection. His fringe has flattened beneath his cap, so he takes it off and runs his fingers through his hair before putting it back on more carefully. Then he smooths down the front of his apron, adjusts the collar of his shirt, and checks his reflection again.
From across the shop, Hyeongjun pauses with the cloth still in his hand. “Hmmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Jiseok narrows his eyes at him but slips back his phone into his pocket. “At least there’s one good thing I get out of working here.”
He returns to his place behind the display freezer, straightening the flavour labels that have remained perfectly straight all day. His attention keeps drifting past the rows of ice cream and toward the glass entrance, waiting for the familiar figure who appears beneath the orange evening light every Friday.
The bell above the entrance rings a few minutes later, and Jiseok’s attention snaps toward it. A man steps inside wearing a pale blue dress shirt tucked neatly into charcoal trousers, though the end of the workday has left his tie loosened and his sleeves folded beneath his elbow. His company ID still hangs from a navy lanyard around his neck, bouncing lightly against his shirt with each step.
Another man follows behind with his suit jacket draped over one arm, continuing a conversation that Jiseok can barely catch. Whatever he says earns a laugh from the other man, and the two of them remain caught up in their own amusement until the man with the lanyard, Jungsu, approaches the counter and meets Jiseok’s eyes.
“Hm, which flavour should I get today?” Jungsu asks, turning his attention to the display.
Gunil leans over the glass, studying the tubs that have already been scooped halfway through during the day. His finger eventually lands above the pink-and-white mixture near the front. “Strawberry Cream Dream. This one looks good.”
“You wanna try it?” Jiseok reaches for two plastic tasting spoons before either of them answers, scraping a little of the ice cream from the tub and passing one to Jungsu and the other to Gunil. He watches Jungsu place the spoon in his mouth, far more invested in his reaction than any employee should be.
Jungsu hums his approval while Gunil nods beside him. “This is good.”
“But I’m interested in the cucumber mint too,” Jungsu adds, glancing toward the pale green tub at the end of the display.
“What the hell kind of taste do you have?” Jiseok mutters.
Jungsu’s attention returns to him. “Sorry, what was that?”
“Um— I said I have way better options for you than the cucumber one.” Jiseok reaches for another tasting spoon, covering the remark with an overly cheerful grin. “But of course, I can still let you try it!”
He scoops a small amount from the tub and passes it across the counter. Jungsu accepts it with a quiet word of thanks, puts the spoon in his mouth, and spends the next few seconds trying not to react. The attempt fails when his features twist in unmistakable disgust.
Jiseok presses his lips together, fighting the urge to laugh. “Good?”
Jungsu swallows with some difficulty before setting the spoon down. “Okay, so which one would you recommend?”
Jiseok glances between Jungsu and Gunil, both of them waiting for his answer. “Honeycomb custard with the strawberry flavour you just tried. Maybe each of you could get a different one so you can share— or, even better, you could both get double scoops.” He lifts both hands with far too much enthusiasm. “Yay.”
Jungsu and Gunil turn to each other before breaking into laughter, and Jiseok’s forced cheerfulness weakens at the ease with which they fall into a discussion together.
“Which one would you prefer?” Jungsu asks.
“I’ll take the strawberry,” Gunil decides.
“Then I’ll go with the honeycomb custard.”
“Coming right up!” Jiseok grabs two cups and turns toward the tubs, trying very hard not to think about how naturally they have chosen flavours to share.
Once the payment goes through, Jiseok slides both cups across the counter with matching spoons tucked into the sides. Jungsu thanks him and picks up the honeycomb custard, but his other hand lingers around the strap of his work bag. He pulls one shoulder back, then rolls the other with a tired wince before stretching his arm across his body.
Gunil notices before Jungsu can lower it. He takes the bag from Jungsu’s shoulder without asking and carries it along with his own toward the table they always occupy beside the window. “Arms hurting again?”
“Mm, yeah,” Jungsu answers, following him with both cups. “I’ve been sitting in front of the computer since this morning. Everything feels stiff.”
"I told you to take breaks.”
“I did.”
“Leaving your desk to use the printer doesn’t count.”
Their voices soften once they sit down, leaving the rest of the conversation tucked between them. Gunil places both bags safely beneath his chair and says something that has Jungsu ducking his head with another quiet laugh. Jungsu pushes the strawberry cup toward him, and Gunil slides the honeycomb custard closer in return, their spoons moving between both flavours without either of them needing to ask.
Jiseok releases a defeated sigh and turns away from the table, only to find Hyeongjun standing near the sink with his arms folded. He has apparently been watching him for long enough to catch the disappointment Jiseok failed to hide.
“What?” Jiseok asks.
“That was painful.”
“What was?”
“Whatever happened to your face when Gunil took his bag.”
“Nothing happened to my face.”
Hyeongjun points at him. “There. You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking miserable.”
“I don’t look miserable.” Jiseok picks up a clean cloth and begins wiping an already spotless section of the counter. “I’m working.”
“No way. You were practically glowing when they walked in, and now you just look ready to stick your head inside the freezer.”
Jiseok scrubs harder, refusing to acknowledge how accurate that is. Hyeongjun remains beside him, making it clear that he has no intention of dropping the subject, and Jiseok finally glances back at the table by the window. Jungsu is holding out a spoonful of honeycomb custard for Gunil to try. Gunil leans forward to accept it before offering Jungsu some of the strawberry from his own spoon.
“I think they’re in love,” Jiseok admits miserably. “And I’m the idiot who just suggested they do more activities that encourage them to be in love. ‘Get different flavours so you can share.’” He mocks himself. “Why did I say that? I basically arranged an ice-cream date for them.”
“You could ask Jungsu whether they’re together.”
Jiseok turns to Hyeongjun in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t just walk up to a customer and ask if he’s dating the guy he comes here with every week.”
“Then ask him out. You’ll get your answer either way.”
“It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
Hyeongjun takes the cloth from Jiseok and folds it over the edge of the sink. “What if it is exactly as easy as it sounds?”
Jiseok rolls his eyes, though his attention drifts back to Jungsu before he can think of a response. Both cups are empty now. Jungsu stacks them together while Gunil gathers the bags from beneath the table, and the two of them head toward the rubbish bin near the entrance.
Jiseok hurries back to his place behind the counter, determined to send them off without letting his disappointment embarrass him further. “Thank you for coming to Scoop Me Up!” he calls, enduring the familiar damage to his dignity. “Have an ice day!”
He wants the floor to open beneath him.
Gunil is already outside by then, both work bags hanging from one shoulder while he waits near the window. Jungsu, however, stops at the counter instead of following him. “The honeycomb is good,” he says.
Jiseok straightens. “Yeah?”
“Better than the cucumber mint.”
“Anything would be better than the cucumber mint.”
Jungsu laughs, resting one hand against the edge of the counter. “I’ll leave next Friday’s choice to you too, then. You seem to know what I’ll like.”
For several seconds, Jiseok forgets that responding is expected of him. “Oh. Yeah. Of course, I can— I’ll find something good.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Jungsu steps back from the counter, his attention remaining on Jiseok even as he reaches for the door. “See you next Friday, Jiseok.”
“Yeah— yes. Next Friday. See you.”
The bell rings as Jungsu leaves. Gunil passes him his bag outside, and they continue down the pavement together beneath the fading orange sky.
Jiseok remains where he is, staring after them. Behind him, Hyeongjun says, “But they’re definitely in love, right?”
“Shut up.”
The following week slips by without anything disrupting their usual routine. Jiseok works his scheduled shifts, complains about the new flavours whenever the opportunity presents itself, and catches himself thinking about Jungsu far more often than he is willing to admit. By Thursday night, the shop is empty and only a few minutes remain before closing. Hyeongjun stacks the chairs on top of the tables while Jiseok wipes fingerprints from the display glass, the front sign already flipped to CLOSED.
“How much longer are you working here?” Hyeongjun asks, lifting another chair. “Your semester starts soon, doesn’t it?”
"Yeah, I’ve got three more weeks.” Jiseok drags the cloth across the glass, inspecting the streak it leaves behind. “Then it’s back to suffering through my final semester.”
“I see.” Hyeongjun places the chair down before turning toward him. “So you have three Fridays left.”
Jiseok pauses. “Why are you counting it that way?”
“Because you clearly aren’t.” Hyeongjun moves on to the next table. “You’ve got three more chances to do something about Jungsu before you leave this place and probably never see him again.”
“Why would you say it that way?” Jiseok groans, abandoning the cloth on the counter. “You make it sound as though he’s going to vanish from the planet.”
“He might as well. You don’t have his number, you don’t know exactly where he works, and the only reason you see him is because he comes here on Fridays. Once you quit, what are you going to do? Stand outside Scoop Me Up every week and hope he passes by?”
The thought is humiliating enough to make Jiseok drag both hands down his face. “Ugh, I don’t know. Let’s just see what awaits me tomorrow. Maybe the universe has something planned.”
“The universe has watched you do nothing for weeks. I think it has given up.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“I’m just saying.” Hyeongjun lowers the last chair instead of stacking it, resting his hands against its back. The teasing falls away from his voice when he continues. “If you like someone that much, you should at least give them the chance to decide how they feel about you. Right now, you’re making the decision for Jungsu because you’re scared his answer won’t be the one you want.”
Jiseok lifts his head.
“You’ve convinced yourself that he likes Gunil, so now you don’t have to risk anything,” Hyeongjun adds. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not. But if you leave without ever asking, then you’ll only have your own assumptions to blame. That sounds worse to me than getting rejected.”
For once, Jiseok has no quick response waiting. He studies Hyeongjun with open surprise, trying to work out when his perpetually exhausted coworker became capable of giving advice that sensible. “Wow. Okay.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know you had that in you.”
Hyeongjun’s expression flattens. “I’m capable of intelligent thought.”
“Debatable, but that was actually good.”
Jiseok picks up the cloth again, though his movements slow as Hyeongjun’s words settle somewhere deeper than he wants them to. His attention wanders toward the glass entrance and the pavement beyond it, now empty beneath the darkened sky.
Three Fridays. He has only three Fridays left to find out whether Jungsu comes for the ice cream or for him.
By Friday evening, Jiseok has already decided that this week’s recommendation will be Saturday Morning Crunch; brown-butter cereal ice cream folded with caramelised cornflakes, mini marshmallows, and pieces of vanilla cake. He spent the entire week debating the choice, even making Hyeongjun taste it twice to confirm that the cornflakes remain crunchy. It is sweet, excessive, and colourful enough to suit Jungsu’s questionable willingness to try nearly anything placed in front of him.
The bell above the door rings at precisely the time Jiseok has been waiting for. He raises his head, prepared to greet Jungsu with an ease he rehearsed several times that afternoon, only for every word to disappear.
Jungsu is wearing glasses.
The thin silver frames rest neatly across his face, accompanying a white dress shirt with its sleeves folded to his elbows and dark trousers that fit him far too well for an ordinary day at the office. Several strands of hair have fallen across his forehead after an entire day at work. Jiseok has seen him dressed this way every Friday, but the addition of the glasses somehow changes everything.
Oh, come on. That is completely unfair.
“Wel—” Jiseok reaches for the stack of tasting spoons and knocks half of them onto the counter. “Welcome to Scoop Me Up!”
Jungsu stops in front of him. “Are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine.” Jiseok hurriedly gathers the spoons, nearly sending the container down with them. “Everything is under control.”
Gunil follows Jungsu inside, watching Jiseok struggle with poorly concealed amusement. Before he can comment, his phone begins ringing. He checks the screen and steps aside to answer, his tone growing more serious as the conversation continues. Jungsu waits near the display, adjusting his glasses before studying the new flavours, but his attention keeps returning to Gunil.
When the call ends, Gunil slips his phone into his pocket. “I have to go back to the office. They found another problem with the report.”
“Right now?” Jungsu asks.
“Unfortunately.”
Jungsu’s hand closes around the strap of his work bag. “Can’t someone else handle it?”
“Apparently not.” Gunil pulls on his suit jacket, then glances at the clock mounted over the counter. It is a little past six-thirty. Before walking toward the entrance, he gives Jungsu’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze and lowers his voice. “You’ve got until seven. Don’t waste it again.”
Jungsu stiffens. “Hyung.”
Gunil offers no explanation. He waves goodbye to Jiseok and leaves, abandoning Jungsu beside the display freezer with the tips of his ears gradually turning pink.
Jiseok watches the door close behind him. Jungsu seems unusually restless without Gunil there, shifting the strap of his bag between his hands and glancing through the window after him. The sight leaves an unpleasant weight in Jiseok’s stomach. He must have been hoping to spend the evening with Gunil.
“You can follow him if you want.” Jiseok says, despite hoping Jungsu will do the exact opposite. “If you’re worried about him going back alone.”
Jungsu turns from the window. “Why would I follow him?”
“I don’t know. You looked disappointed.”
“I’m not disappointed.” Jungsu adjusts his glasses again and moves closer to the counter. “I came here for ice cream.”
“Oh.” Jiseok straightens, unable to stop some of his excitement from returning. “Good, because I already chose this week’s flavour for you.”
“You did?”
“Saturday Morning Crunch.” Jiseok gestures proudly toward the colourful tub. “Cereal ice cream, caramelised cornflakes, marshmallows, and cake. It has everything required for a balanced meal.”
“None of those things belong in a balanced meal.”
“Not with that attitude.”
Jungsu laughs and leans over the glass to inspect it. The movement causes his glasses to slide slightly down his nose, and Jiseok has to tighten his grip around the scoop before it escapes his hand too. This is ridiculous. Jungsu cannot arrive looking this good and expect Jiseok to perform basic tasks correctly.
“Have you tried it?” Jungsu asks.
“I value my digestive system too much.”
“So you spent the entire week thinking about a flavour you can’t even eat?”
Jiseok pauses with the scoop halfway into the tub. “I didn’t spend the entire week thinking about it.”
“He made me taste it twice,” Hyeongjun calls from the back.
“No one invited you into this conversation,” Jiseok calls in return. He scrapes a small amount onto a tasting spoon and passes it to Jungsu. “Ignore him. Try this.”
Jungsu accepts the sample. He takes one bite, and the crunch of the caramelised cereal is audible from across the counter. Jiseok waits through the few seconds Jungsu deliberately spends considering it, growing increasingly impatient when he receives no reaction.
“Well?”
Jungsu pushes his glasses back into place. “This might be the best one yet.”
“Really?”
“Mmm.. you were right about the cornflakes.”
Jiseok’s face warms at the praise. “Of course I was. One scoop?”
“One scoop.”
After Jungsu pays, Jiseok fills the cup with a slightly more generous serving than the shop permits and adds a few extra cake pieces before handing it over. He expects Jungsu to take it to the table beside the window, but Jungsu sets his bag near his feet and remains at the counter instead.
Jiseok glances over his shoulder. Hyeongjun has conveniently disappeared into the stockroom, leaving the front of the shop quiet around them. Without Gunil occupying the nearby table or waiting for Jungsu to finish, there is nothing to interrupt them.
“So,” Jungsu begins, digging his spoon through the marshmallow swirl, “how long did it take you to choose this?”
“Not long.”
“Hyeongjun said an entire week.”
“Hyeongjun exaggerates.”
“You made him taste it twice.”
“That was for quality control.” Jiseok rests his forearms against the counter. “I needed to make sure you wouldn’t hate it and ruin my winning streak.”
“I haven’t liked every flavour you recommended.”
“But.. you finished all of them..?”
“I paid for them, I wasn’t going to waste my money.”
“You came back every Friday.”
Jungsu’s spoon pauses against the edge of the cup. “Maybe I trust your judgement.”
The answer catches Jiseok off guard, though he manages to cover it by glancing toward Jungsu’s abandoned work bag. “Did you have a busy day?”
“I’ve been checking financial statements since this morning. That’s why I’m wearing these.” Jungsu touches the frame of his glasses. “My contacts started hurting.”
Jiseok desperately wants to tell him that he should wear glasses every Friday from now on. “They look good.”
Jungsu looks up. “My glasses?”
“Yeah.” Jiseok busies himself with straightening the cup lids. “They suit you.”
“Ah..” Jungsu’s voice softens. “Thank you.”
The quiet that follows makes Jiseok painfully aware of everything between them; the slight colour still lingering across Jungsu’s ears, the clock moving steadily toward seven, and Gunil’s strange warning before he left. He reaches for the first question that enters his head. “Is your office nearby?”
“Not really, it’s in the Mirae Finance building.”
“Near Central Station?”
Jungsu nods.
Jiseok frowns. “That’s almost twenty minutes away.”
“About that.”
“And don’t you take the train from Seonghwa Station?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s in the opposite direction.” Jiseok traces the route through his head, growing more confused with every turn. “You walk twenty minutes here, then walk all the way back past your office to get to the station?”
Jungsu takes another spoonful, becoming deeply interested in a piece of cake buried at the bottom of his cup. “It isn’t that far.”
“It is when you’ve already spent the entire day working.” Jiseok studies him through the display glass. “Then why do you keep coming here? There’s an ice-cream place right beside your office.”
“I prefer the flavours here.”
“They serve almost the same ones.”
“Not this one.”
“They had cereal ice cream two weeks ago.”
“Did it have caramelised cornflakes?”
“I don’t know, but it probably had something close.”
“Then it wasn’t the same.”
The excuse is so weak that Jiseok almost laughs. Jungsu keeps his attention lowered, slowly stirring the melting edges of his ice cream together while Jiseok tries to understand why anyone would add forty minutes to their journey for flavours they could buy beside their workplace.
“You really walk all this way every Friday because our cereal pieces are slightly crunchier?” Jiseok asks.
Jungsu glances up at him through the silver frames. “Maybe the flavours aren’t the only thing I prefer here.”
Jiseok’s thoughts stop. Before he can decide what Jungsu means, his attention drifts towards the empty table where Gunil usually sits. Of course. The two of them probably come here because it gives them somewhere to spend time together outside the office.
"Ah,” Jiseok says, doing his best to hide the disappointment settling over him again. “Right. That makes sense.”
Jungsu stares at him. “It does?”
“Yeah. I get it.”
Judging by the way Jungsu lowers his spoon and presses his lips together, Jiseok has somehow given the wrong answer.
Then Jungsu checks his watch again. It is the third time he has done it within the past ten minutes, and each glance lasts a little longer than the one before. His spoon stays buried in the melting remains of his ice cream while he studies the time, his mouth pressing into a tense line before he lowers his wrist.
“You have somewhere to be?” Jiseok asks, trying to keep the sadness from entering his voice.
“I need to catch the train home.”
“Oh.” Jiseok glances towards the clock above the counter. It is already nearing seven. “Right.”
Jungsu nods but makes no move to leave. He takes another bite and attempts to continue their conversation, only for his attention to return to his watch a few minutes later. Jiseok begins shortening his answers, convinced Jungsu is waiting for an opportunity to excuse himself. Gunil has already left, after all. There is no longer any reason for Jungsu to remain here.
Outside the windows, the evening has deepened into orange. The colour stretches across the pavement and spills through the glass, catching along the silver frames of Jungsu’s glasses. Soon, the sun will disappear behind the surrounding buildings, Jungsu will leave for the station, and Jiseok will have to wait another week for the bell above the door to announce his return.
Except Jungsu sets his spoon down and says, “I don’t think I’ll be able to come for the next new Fridays.”
Jiseok’s attention snaps back to him. “What?”
“Work is entering its busiest period. We have several reports due next month, and I’ll probably be staying late most days.” Jungsu adjusts his glasses, his fingers lingering near the frame. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come again.”
The words settle slowly, each one making the situation worse. Jiseok has only three weeks left at the shop. By the time Jungsu’s schedule clears, he will have returned to university and someone else will be standing behind this counter on Friday evenings. There will be no more flavour recommendations, no more nervous preparations every Friday, and no guarantee that their paths will ever cross again.
He should tell Jungsu. This is the moment Hyeongjun warned him about; the chance he will regret wasting if he allows fear to stop him again.
Instead, Jiseok forces a laugh. “Well, I guess Gunil will have to find somewhere else to take you on Fridays.”
Jungsu pauses. “What does Gunil have to do with it?”
Jiseok’s fingers curl around the edge of the counter. “Nothing. I just meant that you two won’t be coming here for a while.”
“I’m the one who comes here.”
“Yeah, with Gunil.”
“Sometimes.” Jungsu studies him carefully. “Why are you bringing him up?”
The conversation is already slipping somewhere Jiseok never intended it to go, but he cannot find a graceful way to pull it back. “Because you always come together. I assumed this was somewhere you two liked spending time.”
“I spend time with Gunil at the office every day.”
“I know, but you’re obviously close.”
“We are close,” Jungsu says. “That doesn’t mean what you seem to think it means.”
Jiseok’s face grows warm. “I didn’t say it meant anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Okay, fine.” Jiseok clarifies, each syllable making him want to disappear further beneath the counter. “Or interested in each other. Something along those lines.”
“And how long have you thought of that?”
“I don’t know, since you started coming here?”
Something in Jungsu’s face falls. He lowers his attention to the cup between his hands, turning it slowly against the counter. “I see.”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” Jiseok rushes to add. “It isn’t my business. You two seem good together, so—”
“Please stop saying that.”
Jiseok falls silent.
Jungsu removes his glasses and rubs the space between his eyes before putting them back on. “You really think I walk twenty minutes in the wrong direction every Friday so I can eat ice cream with someone I already spend five days a week sitting beside?”
Jiseok struggles for an answer. “You said there was something here that the other shop didn’t have.”
Jungsu looks directly at him. His expression holds something Jiseok cannot identify through the panic crowding his thoughts, though he knows he has seen it before, every time Jungsu waits at the counter instead of heading to his table, every time he asks Jiseok to choose for him, every time he promises to return the following Friday.
“I’ve been standing here for nearly half an hour trying to tell you,” Jungsu says.
The answer should clear everything up. Somehow, Jiseok only becomes more confused. “You’ve mostly been talking about the ice cream.”
A humourless laugh escapes Jungsu. “Right. Of course.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I should’ve known this wasn’t going anywhere.”
Jiseok flinches. “What wasn’t?”
Jungsu checks his watch once more. The orange light has begun withdrawing from the shop, leaving the pavement outside in shadow. “It doesn’t matter. I need to catch my train.”
“Wait.” Jiseok moves around the counter, but he stops before he can get any closer. “Are you angry with me?”
“I don’t know.” Jungsu lifts his work bag onto his shoulder. “I think I’m more embarrassed than anything.”
“Why would you be embarrassed?”
Jungsu’s hand closes around the strap. For a moment, he appears ready to answer. Then his eyes drift toward the stockroom, and whatever courage he had gathered disappears. “You know what? Goodbye, Jiseok.”
“Jungsu—”
He is already walking toward the entrance. The bell rings above him as he pushes the door open, and Jiseok watches him disappear down the orange-tinted pavement without once turning back.
The silence that follows is unbearable. “Oh, fuck,” Jiseok whispers. “I messed up.”
Hyeongjun emerges from the stockroom carrying a box of paper cups. He glances toward the empty entrance before turning to Jiseok. “And just like that, you officially have zero Fridays left with Jungsu.”
“That is not helpful at all!” Jiseok cries. He tears off his cap and throws it toward the counter, but it misses and lands on the floor. “Why did I say that? Why did I bring up Gunil? He wasn’t even here!”
“I did tell you to stop deciding how Jungsu felt for him.”
“I know!” Jiseok drags both hands through his flattened hair. “He was trying to tell me something, and I kept talking about Gunil. What was he trying to tell me? Why didn’t I understand it while he was still here?”
Hyeongjun sets the box down. “Probably because you were too busy panicking.”
Jiseok groans and bends over the counter, burying his face in his arms. “I need to quit. I can’t work here anymore. This place has ruined my life.”
“Relax. We still have three hours until closing.”
“That makes it worse.”
“Then pick up your cap before someone steps on it.”
Jiseok lifts his head. His eyes sting enough that he has to look away, swallowing against the pressure gathering behind them. He retrieves his cap from the floor and brushes it off before pulling it back over his hair. The embarrassment will pass eventually. Jungsu’s absence might not. The bell rings again before he can dwell on it any longer. A family enters with two children already arguing over which flavour they want, and Jiseok forces himself upright.
“Welcome to Scoop Me Up!” he announces with a brightness that sounds wrong even to him. “Have an ice day!”
For the remaining hours, he performs every part of his job exactly as expected. He greets customers, offers samples, explains the weekly special, and laughs whenever someone comments on the shop’s ridiculous name. The cheerful act stays firmly in place until each customer turns away. Then his shoulders sink, and his attention returns to the entrance, holding on to the foolish hope that Jungsu might walk back in.
He never does.
By closing time, the shop has fallen quiet again. Jiseok wipes down the display without complaining about the stubborn marks, while Hyeongjun counts the register and watches him more often than necessary.
“You can go first,” Hyeongjun says eventually. “I’ll finish closing.”
Jiseok stops wiping. “Really?”
“Yeah. There isn’t much left.”
“But we usually leave together.”
“I’m going to the pub nearby anyway.” Hyeongjun shrugs and turns back to the register. “It’s been a tiring week, and I need a drink after listening to you complain for most of it.”
Jiseok knows the excuse is there to spare him from acknowledging Hyeongjun’s concern, so he does not challenge it. He folds the cloth, removes his apron, and collects his bag from the staff room. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Mm.”
“Don’t drink too much.”
“No promises.”
Jiseok manages a faint laugh as he heads toward the door. “Bye. Take care.”
He steps outside, leaving Hyeongjun to lock the door behind him. The orange sky from earlier has disappeared completely, and Jungsu is already long gone. He slips his AirPods into his ears as he walks, scrolling through his playlist until he finds the saddest song available. There is no reason to make the journey to the station pleasant when he can spend it staring at the pavement while a devastating ballad convinces him that his life has ended over a man he was never even dating.
The opening melody has barely begun when a voice calls from behind him.
“Jiseok!”
He stops so abruptly that someone passing beside him nearly collides with his shoulder. Jiseok pauses the song and pulls one AirPod free before turning around.
Jungsu is hurrying toward him.
“Jungsu?” Jiseok stares, wondering whether the music has already driven him into some miserable hallucination. “What are you doing here?”
Jungsu reaches him without answering. His fingers close around Jiseok’s wrist, and before Jiseok can process the contact, Jungsu turns and begins pulling him down the pavement.
“Hey— hey, wait.” Jiseok stumbles into motion behind him. “Where are you taking me?”
Jungsu continues walking.
“Jungsu?”
No answer.
Jiseok could stop him. He could plant his feet against the pavement and demand an explanation, but Jungsu’s hand is warm around his wrist, his grip firm enough for Jiseok to feel every shift of his fingers. His pulse goes completely out of control. He follows without further protest, though he nearly trips whenever Jungsu tugs him around a corner with more urgency than necessary.
They eventually leave the brighter streets surrounding the shops and enter a small neighbourhood park. The playground is empty at this hour, and only the lamps along the walking path illuminate the benches and trees. Jungsu leads him toward a quiet area near the swings before stopping.
“What are we doing here?” Jiseok asks.
Jungsu releases his wrist. “Sorry.”
The warmth disappears so suddenly that Jiseok almost reaches after it. He lowers his hand instead, rubbing his thumb over the place Jungsu had been holding. “No, it’s okay. I just don’t understand why you dragged me halfway across the neighbourhood.”
“I needed somewhere quiet.”
“For what?”
Jungsu adjusts his glasses, then drops his hand without answering. All the determination that carried him here seems to have abandoned him now that he and Jiseok are standing face-to-face. He looks toward the empty swings, presses his lips together, and tries again.
“I don’t like Gunil.”
Jiseok blinks. “You don’t?”
“I mean, I do. He’s one of my closest friends. But I don’t like him in the way you think I do.” Jungsu’s frustration begins returning as he speaks. “We aren’t dating. We’ve never dated, and neither of us wants to date the other. He comes to the shop because I asked him to.”
“Why?”
“Because I was nervous!”
Jiseok recoils slightly at the sudden volume, and Jungsu closes his eyes for a moment before continuing more quietly.
“The first time we went there, I didn’t know you. Gunil wanted ice cream, so I followed him. Then you recommended something to me, and the following week, you remembered what I ordered.” Jungsu pushes his glasses further up his nose. “I wanted to come back, but I thought it would be strange if I appeared by myself at the same time every Friday. Gunil offered to come with me.”
“Gunil knew?”
“He knows everything. I’ve been talking about you at work for weeks.”
Jiseok can only stare at him. “You talk about me?”
“Yes, unfortunately. He knows which flavours you’ve made me try, how much you complain about the shop’s name, and that you’re working there to save for a guitar. He also knows that I’ve spent every Friday failing to ask for your number.”
The confession comes out with such irritation that Jiseok almost wonders whether he is being scolded. “You wanted my number?”
“Why else would Gunil tell me not to waste my time before he left?”
“I thought he meant you only had until seven to spend time together!”
“He was leaving!”
“I know that now!”
Jungsu exhales and turns away briefly, gathering himself before facing Jiseok again. “I kept checking my watch because my train leaves at seven-fifteen. I wasn’t waiting for an excuse to go. I was upset because the time kept passing, and I still hadn’t managed to say what I wanted.”
“And when I told you I wouldn’t be able to visit for the next few weeks, I thought you might finally ask how else you could see me.” Jungsu’s eyebrows draw together. “Instead, you suggested Gunil take me somewhere else.”
“I’m sorry,” Jiseok says weakly. “I really thought you were in love with him.”
“I walk twenty minutes away from my station every Friday to see you. Do you understand how many ice-cream shops I pass along the way?”
“You said you preferred our flavours.”
“I was panicking! What did you expect me to say? That I travel forty minutes out of my way because the employee behind the counter is cute?”
Jiseok’s thoughts empty. “You think I’m cute?”
“That is what you decided to focus on?”
“Sorry. Continue.”
Jungsu removes his glasses and rubs a hand over his face. When he puts them back on, some of his frustration has softened into nervousness. “I like that you remember everything I tell you, even when our conversations only last a few minutes. I like that you spend an entire week choosing an ice cream for me when you can’t even taste it yourself. I like hearing you complain, and I even tolerate that humiliating greeting because you’re the one saying it.”
“It’s a horrible greeting.”
“It is. That isn’t the point.” Jungsu takes a hesitant step closer. “The point is that Friday has become the day I look forward to most because I get to see you. Then you told me you thought I was coming for Gunil, and I was so embarrassed that I left.”
“What made you come back?”
“I reached the station and realised that if I went home, I wouldn’t see you again for weeks.” Jungsu glances away. “So I turned around. I’ve been waiting nearby for your shift to end.”
“You waited three hours?”
“Please don’t make that the most embarrassing part of this conversation.”
Jiseok presses his lips together, though he cannot stop the happiness from spreading across his face.
Jungsu notices and grows even more flustered. “I’m already frustrated because I thought I was making my feelings obvious, only to find out that you misunderstood everything. So I’m going to say this once, as clearly as I can.”
He reaches for Jiseok’s hand again, slower this time, and curls their fingers together.
“I like you, Jiseok. Not Gunil. You.”
Jiseok has imagined this moment enough times that he should have something prepared. A confession of his own, perhaps, or at least a response more intelligent than standing beneath a park lamp with his mouth slightly open. But nothing comes.
Jungsu likes him. Jungsu has been walking forty minutes out of his way every Friday for him. Jungsu waited three hours after missing his train, and now he is holding Jiseok’s hand while waiting for an answer that Jiseok’s overwhelmed mind refuses to form.
So Jiseok does the only thing that makes sense to him.
He leans forward and kisses Jungsu.
Their mouths meet for no more than a second before Jiseok realises what he has done. Jungsu remains completely still, his fingers loosening around Jiseok’s hand as surprise takes over his face. Jiseok pulls away, panic rushing in to replace every coherent thought he has ever possessed.
“Um.” His eyes widen. “I mean— um. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first. You said you liked me, and I didn’t know what to say, so for some reason my mind decided that was the best way to respond, but obviously I should’ve—”
Jungsu reaches for his face and kisses him again.
One hand settles against Jiseok’s cheek while the other curls behind his neck, bringing him closer before another word can escape. Jiseok makes a startled sound against Jungsu’s mouth, but his surprise melts quickly. His hands find Jungsu’s waist, clutching the fabric of his shirt as he returns the kiss with all the eagerness he failed to put into words.
Jungsu’s glasses press awkwardly against Jiseok’s face when the angle shifts. He pulls back just far enough to remove them, folding the arms with unsteady fingers before slipping them carefully into his shirt pocket. Jiseok barely gives him time to finish. He catches the loosened end of Jungsu’s tie and draws him back down, closing the space between their bodies until Jungsu nearly loses his balance.
Their teeth knock together.
Jiseok breaks away with an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologising,” Jungsu murmurs, and kisses him again.
This attempt begins softer, but neither of them maintains that patience for long. Jungsu’s thumb moves over Jiseok’s cheek while their mouths part, allowing the kiss to deepen with a clumsy curiosity neither of them tries to restrain. Jiseok feels the first cautious brush of Jungsu’s tongue and welcomes it, tightening his hold on the tie still wrapped around his fingers. There is a lingering sweetness on Jungsu’s tongue from the cereal ice cream. Caramel, perhaps, or the marshmallow swirl Jiseok added too much of. Somewhere beneath the rush consuming his thoughts, Jiseok wonders whether this counts as consuming dairy and if he is about to suffer the consequences of kissing Jungsu too thoroughly.
That cannot possibly be how lactose intolerance works.
Probably.
He decides the risk is worth it and pulls Jungsu closer by his tie again.
Jungsu responds with a muffled sound that sends Jiseok’s pulse racing even faster. The kiss grows messier as their earlier nerves give way to everything they have held back across weeks of brief conversations. Their teeth clash once more, and this time neither bothers to apologise. Jungsu’s fingers slip into the hair beneath Jiseok’s cap, knocking it crooked while Jiseok holds on to him, reluctant to leave even the smallest distance between them.
When they finally separate, both of them are struggling to recover their breath. Jiseok releases Jungsu’s tie, now thoroughly wrinkled from his grip, and rests his forehead against the taller man’s. Jungsu keeps both hands around his face, his thumbs warm against Jiseok’s cheeks.
For a while, Jiseok can only stand there and listen to their uneven breathing, a disbelieving laugh threatening to escape him whenever he remembers that Jungsu kissed him back.
“I like you too, Jungsu,” he admits at last, his voice quieter than anything he has said all evening. “A lot. An embarrassing amount, actually.”
Jungsu’s lips curve, still close enough to brush against his when he speaks. “More than the guitar you’re saving for?”
Jiseok considers it. “Don’t make me answer difficult questions during a romantic moment.”
Jungsu laughs and pulls him into another kiss, and Jiseok decides that buying the guitar can wait a little longer. Jiseok remains close even after the kiss ends. The happiness settling over him lasts until he remembers the reason he had been panicking in the first place.
“Wait,” he says. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Jungsu’s hands pause against his cheeks. “What?”
“I’m leaving the shop in three weeks. My final semester is starting, so by the time work gets less busy for you…” Jiseok trails off. “I probably won’t be there anymore.”
Jungsu goes quiet before asking, “Is that why you looked so upset when I said I couldn’t come?”
“Partly. I thought tonight might be the last time I ever saw you.” Jiseok lowers his eyes toward the wrinkled tie. “I didn’t have your number, and I had no idea how to find you without turning up at your office and getting escorted out by security.”
“You could’ve asked me.”
“I know that now. Hyeongjun has already given me the same lecture.”
Jungsu lets out a laugh and reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Then ask me now.”
Jiseok looks at the phone being offered to him. “For your number?”
“For my number. And whether I'll be free next Friday.”
“But you said you’ll be working late.”
“I will.” Jungsu places the phone in Jiseok’s hand. “So you’ll have to meet me after work instead.”
Jiseok enters his number, then calls himself to save the contact. The sound of his ringtone breaks through the quiet park, and relief washes over him when Jungsu’s name appears on his screen. Three weeks no longer matters. Neither does the distance between the office and the shop, or how many Fridays Jungsu will be too busy to visit.
“Next Friday, then?” Jiseok asks.
Jungsu intertwines their fingers once more. “And every Friday after that, if you want.”