ISS 2012: for yaoiokami

[comebackmods]

Title: Implications, And How You Handle Them
Pairing: Hoya/Sunggyu
Rating: PG
Word count: 7,120
Summary: Sunggyu doesn’t want to be labelled a shallow kid of a chaebol family. He ends up with a part-time job, and ends up with an unhealthy dose of being in love.

To: yaoiokami
From: Your Secret Santa



It’s autumn- another bleary autumn in the heart of Seoul, and Kim Sunggyu walks down a pavement down the street where he lives; just looking around him, looking at the little things he misses everyday. Such details are at best insignificant, and they blend into the general surrounding like things in an intricate painting you wouldn’t notice at first glance. The flickering street light beside the ddeokbokki stall, the peeling red paint on the fire hydrant, the pile of red and yellowing leaves heaped up on the roof of the hotpot restaurant-

It’s only a formality, really, to observe the things around him, but the half the year has passed like wind, too fast; and he thinks if he doesn’t look hard enough now, he might miss it, and the end of the year might come too soon.

After all, as a busy college student, he never really gets to do this, right? Now that he’s on somewhat of a break, he just wants to spend it meaningfully… Sunggyu breathes in the mix of the sweet scent of withering flowers and the oily smell from the roadside food stalls, and lazily contemplates about getting a job.

About that, it’s not that Sunggyu needs money. Honestly, he never really needs to worry about money issues. Subtracting the hefty tuition fees, school fees, apartment rental fees, necessities and his meals, Sunggyu still has quite an exorbitant amount left to spend every month, having come from a well-off family. He just doesn’t want to sit around, doing nothing while his other friends are venturing in the working world, making money by their own abilities.

Also maybe, just maybe, because he wants to prove to everyone else that’s he’s not all that, coming from such a family, that he gets to laze around, showing nothing of his abilities.

Maybe.

Like Woohyun, his best friend, Nam Woohyun, who works at the neighborhood swimming pool as a lifeguard, had gotten recognition from the national organizations of lifeguards or something, for being committed and outstanding in his work, and even met his boyfriend while working-apparently that guy was having a leg cramp in the pool while swimming and Woohyun had brought him back up, despite being off-shift that time of the day. Woohyun had been infatuated with the taller male ever since, and he had been over the moon when his feelings were reciprocated.

So Sunggyu slowly strolls down the street outside his rented apartment (he had vehemently refused to let his parents pay for it) and glances at shops as he kicks a tattered plastic bottle cap along the rough gravel. Beside the bakery he always patrons, stands a cosy-looking gift shop with old, worn vanilla wallpaper with rose patterns and warm orange hanging ceiling lights. There is a paper with neat tiny font printed on it stuck to the side windows: Hiring. Walk-in interviews only.

Isn’t this a heaven-sent opportunity, then? Sunggyu was just thinking about getting a job to prove his worth, and a job is offering itself in his face right now. He smiles and walks towards the door, but doesn’t pay attention enough and bumps into another man, striking purple earphones plugged into his ears. “Sorry,” Sunggyu says, smiling apologetically. The other man shakes his head, smiles and their hands reach out for the door handle at the same time.

Sunggyu walks through the door when the man swings it open and gestures for Sunggyu to enter first. Sunggyu knows the shop owner here-Sungjong-he always buys gifts here because they’re cheap, practical and the gifts come in various types so that Sunggyu can always find gifts suitable for almost everyone here.

Sungjong smiles at Sunggyu like an old customer (which he is, of course), but Sunggyu clears his throat and grins at the petite shopkeeper. “I heard you’re hiring. I’m up for the job.” Sungjong’s large eyes sparkle with interest but the other boy with the purple earphones tug the music down from his ears, and extends a hand towards Sungjong as well. “I’m looking for a job.”

Tossing the pale blue wiping cloth from one hand to another and back, Sungjong looks a mix of being genuinely baffled and thoroughly amused, and darts glances between Sunggyu and the other guy. “You’ll both have to go through interviews, then. Who wants to start first?” Sungjong chuckles, putting on a pair of black-rimmed glasses and crosses his arms, looking aptly professional despite his opposite personality.

Sunggyu, despite himself, keeps quiet as he lets the man beside him talk, but before he can take in a breath and reply Sungjong, Sungjong stops him by holding up a hand. “I was joking. I needed two helpers, anyway, and you two fit the bill just nice.”

“Oh, okay,” The male laughs breathily, and looks at both Sungjong and Sunggyu, “I’m Lee Howon… Nice to meet you?”

“I’m Sunggyu, Kim Sunggyu. I’m sorry for bumping into you earlier, by the way. Are you hurt anywhere-” Sunggyu starts, but Howon runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, like he did just now.

“Right. I’m Sungjong, but you can call me boss,” Sungjong chirps, and laughs softly. “I’ll actually be going on a vacation slash study trip next week and I won’t be back in a few months, so I really would appreciate help during my absence. Or I can just close my shop and come back broke, I don’t know. But it looks like I’ve got myself two good catches today,” He scrutinizes the both of them quickly, “so, thank you. I hope you have fun… here?”

“Oh, right, there are a few things to do here-quite little, I’d say, but anyway. First, the cashier. Anyone can handle the machine, I suppose, it’s easy enough. But if you can’t, let me know, since I’ll be here for a few more days. I have a list of all the items instock, their codes and their prices in the desk drawer so if you aren’t sure how to key in the code if the scanner isn’t working, it’s all there.” Sungjong walks around adds on, slender arms gesturing to the pale beige machine. “Secondly, restocking. My supplier sends goods over in like, once every two months, so if they do come by when I’m not around, just sign for me, any one of you-I’ll inform their office so they know. If it’s near the festive seasons and goods run out, just-” He reaches out for a stack of papers beside the wastepaper bin, and waves it. “Just call these numbers, I have them labelled. Back up plans for when we have insufficient stock.”

Sunggyu nods on dumbly, listening to Sungjong rattle on about cleanliness and keeping the shop clean, that Sungjong doesn’t like dust motes and there should be a flower pot on each row, and they have to be arranged by colors according to their columns. Howon is pretty attentive, Sunggyu muses, as he mouths the words to himself, as if willing himself to remember.

“If you can see, there’s a little storage room thing here,” Sungjong grins and swings the door open, “I keep all my cleaning equipment here-mops, brooms, cloths, sprays, detergents, everything. Just grab whatever you need from here and keep my shop clean. That is the most important point because no one wants to buy gifts with a layer of dust on it. Is that understood?”

Howon hums in reply. Sungjong checks the time on the clock and frantically smoothens his hair, blinking. “Actually,” He says, setting the cloth onto the counter, “I do have a dat-an appointment today. For a start, could you help me look after the shop today-and leave your bank numbers on a paper so I can send you your pay-thanks!”

Sungjong grabs a hat and a scarf and dashes out of the little store, the soft metal wind chime tinkling beside the door, roused by the wind.

“I doubt he’s cleaned in days,” Sunggyu groans, wringing the dry cloth in his hands, “he’s such a neat freak and possibly a cleanliness freak, but he’s too lazy to get things done.”

Howon laughs, a soft, husky sound ripped from his throat, and looks around. “You’re right; I already see the dust on the glass shelves. How long have you known him, anyway? You speak to him like you’re childhood friends.” His voice turns hollow in Sunggyu’s ears as he walks into the storage to get another cloth, and begins wiping the glass panels.

“We’re not childhood friends-I just buy a lot of things from him here. I’m just too lazy to go look for proper presents for other people, so I just see whatever catches my eye here and buy them. You don’t sound very local, by the way,” Sunggyu comments.

“I see,” Howon pauses, then he catches on and laughs, “oh, I’m from Busan. I came to Seoul to study, of course, but my accent won’t go away, right?”

Sunggyu eyes Howon wearily, nodding his head. Howon laughs, abashed, and holds out a hand. “Let's work well together, partner.”

And they do. Days come and go quickly as the months fly pass. Sunggyu sometimes finds Howon stuck inside the storage room because he forgot the key outside, and he chuckles before pretending the door is locked permanently, just for that moment of panic and Howon’s cries before unlocking it to see his shocked face.

Sometimes, Sunggyu wipes the large glass windows beside the doors and Howon spills extra bubbles onto the glass just because it annoys Sunggyu, his thick-framed glasses enunciating his squinting little eyes even more. It always ends up with the large area of the polished wooden floor near the entrance being all soapy, slippery and wet, and it takes ages for Sunggyu to clear the mess up (while whining and complaining), but Howon usually takes the time to get twin cups of free Americano from the barista Sungyeol working at the café opposite their little store. They close up the shop at a later hour on days like that, smelling like bittersweet coffee and peach-scented detergent.

Sungjong never really decides to comes back and take over his duties, but he drops by a little too often, with his ostentatious oversized shades (“They come in a set of seven colors,” Sungjong had squealed) in the late autumn season in Seoul. He always leaves with a cordial wink, a wave and joking promises about leaving and never returning.

“Do we stock up more goods this time?” Howon asks, holding a clipboard and tapping a pencil on Sunggyu’s shoulder. “It’s nearing Christmas. I think we should. Imagine the crowd by then. Woah.”

Sunggyu nods numbly without thinking, before looking up at Howon from his seat wearily. Howon places the clipboard on the table and frowns. “Are you okay? Feeling unwell? Do you want to go home and rest? I can handle this myself so-”

“I’m-” Sunggyu manages, but his lips are too pale and Howon feels Sunggyu’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“What the hell, Sunggyu, you’re burning. I’m going to take you to a doctor right now-how did you even manage to come to work today, you should’ve stayed at home and have an ice pack on your forehead and gulping down pills with warm water why are you here,” Howon grits, and helps Sunggyu up slowly. “You look like shit, how come I didn’t notice that earlier?”

Sunggyu says nothing (more like he can’t find the strength in him to) and Howon silently slings Sunggyu’s arm over his shoulder as they walk to the clinic down the street slowly.

After Sunggyu sees the doctor and they collect the fever medicine, Howon sternly orders Sunggyu to head home and resume work only after he recovers. Sunggyu weakly protests about Howon’s incompetence and how he won’t be able to manage the shop alone, jokingly, and in return he receives a weak punch on his arm. “Just go home,” Howon had said quietly, “I’ll manage. If you really do miss me, you can just text me, anyway.”

Sunggyu isn’t sure if it’s Howon’s over-concern, or the fact that he even actually cared, or because no one had cared for him like this before. His parents are constantly working, from day to night, from the start of the year to the end, and the likes. It’s almost considered lucky to be able to see his parents more than ten times a month, when he was a young child. Young Sunggyu had friends who used to have packed lunches by their parents, but his own was prepared by the domestic helper, and it was the chauffeur who drove him to and fro school, and he certainly didn’t have compliments or praises from his parents regarding his art project, his academic grades or his trophy for winning the interclass singing competition.

And when his parents do come home, a few fortunate days off from the hectic schedules, they would book a villa in Gangnam or Incheon to kill time, or a large boat to hold a party on, or just stay at home and relax a little. Sunggyu, as much as he hoped and prayed for his parents to stay home and treat him like normal parents do, found out that his parents didn’t exactly care about him, except the mandatory questions and commands of do well in school and did you get first in class for this exam?

Sunggyu, at age nine, realizes he hates his parents, he hates his home and he hates holidays the most. Holidays would be the rare days his parents would be always beside him, bugging him to study, Sunggyu-ah, study harder, and become a doctor, a lawyer, a president. The lovely family reunion dinners are fancy, but fancy for the wrong reasons to Sunggyu. His family was overly conscious about public image, and most of their actions are for show. When Sunggyu was eleven, he threw his chopsticks on the floor and ran out.

His parents didn’t come home the next Christmas.

All in all, Sunggyu had grown up having this odd, skewed perception about holidays, and he doesn’t understand why people enjoy holidays. Maybe because they have decent parents, unlike him.

Sunggyu swallows his fever pills down, and lies on the couch lazily. It’s boring to be at home with nothing to do-he thinks he’d gotten too used to the busy, bustling activities in the shop. Thinking about it, he whips his phone out and texts Howon, just to disturb him.

How are you holding up? I have coke and air-con.

He’s lying about the coke, of course, but it’s all in good fun. To disturb Howon. After five minutes, his phone screen lights up with a reply.

Go sleep you ass

Sunggyu chucks the phone away, chortling.

Sunggyu spends roughly three days at home, his body temperature fluctuating randomly, so Howon keeps the concerned texts coming in, from five in the morning (when they open the shop) to about two at night (when Howon decides to go to sleep). Some of the messages are detailed and long, Howon telling Sunggyu to drink more water, sleep early, stop using your computer and asking whether Sunggyu remembers to take his medicines; some of them are short and hurried, probably because-oh right-it’s nearing Christmas, and the shop must be bustling with people.

When it’s the day for Sunggyu to finally go back to work, he actually runs late, because he accidentally left the kettle boiling, and he had to walk back to his apartment after he left for five minutes, when he does remember it. He hurriedly rushes to the café opposite the shop, orders two takeaway cups of extra sweet latte with extra whipped cream, and briskly walks into the gift store. The sight is somewhat extraordinary-Howon is busy bringing people around, with a clipboard wedged between his arm and the side of his body, and the little shop is filled with so many people. Sunggyu sets the iced coffee cups on the counter beside the register, and Howon looks over gratefully as Sunggyu begins to work, again, today as the cashier.

After the morning crowd clears away, Howon sighs tiredly and sits down beside Sunggyu. Sunggyu passes the latte over, and they both drink quietly.

“It’s three weeks to Christmas. Isn’t that fast? We started work in July,” Howon says, eyeing the whipped cream added in generous amounts on the drink, and looks over at Sunggyu.

“Mmm… Christmas,” Sunggyu says, glancing around the shop. The racks and shelves are filled with red and green and white objects, the usual gifts for Christmas and all sorts of decorating ornaments, and there is the mistletoe hung above the glass doors. “It’s such a boring festival though, underneath the hype, I think?”

Howon gives Sunggyu a childish grin, and tosses the cup into the bin. “I wanted this job first because I wanted something to tide me through Christmas… I never liked Christmas.”

“Why?”

“I liked it when I was young… Of course, everyone likes Christmas when they were kids…” Howon pauses at the mistletoe, and Sunggyu nods quietly in agreement, his eyes twinkling with something like sadness. “I was in school and it was the day we got our grades back. I got first in class, and I was so excited to bring it home to show my dad, because I’ve always wanted to make him proud… So he rushed home from his office, and got into a car accident. I never got to show him my grades, after all.” Howon’s eyes look distant, and Sunggyu wishes he had never asked about it.

“Ah…” Sunggyu croaks, partially because he’s internally happy that Howon is like him-they have a mutual dislike for Christmas, but also partially because he knows he shouldn’t be happy, so he settles for a neutral reply. “I… hate Christmas too. Too many unpleasant memories, you know? It’s so disheartening to see other people celebrating while there are people like us, suffering in old fragments of forgotten incidents…”

Sunggyu tosses a wet towel at Howon, and gives him a weak grin. “But we’re running a gift shop here,” he says, when a customer walks in, “be professional.”

When Sunggyu meets Woohyun outside the subway at Incheon three days later, it wasn’t like a normal meeting he would have expected. He was just out running an errand because he lost to Howon in a game of rock, scissors and paper, and he’s just on his way back with a bottle of cleaning detergent and two pairs of rubber gloves. In the comfortable breeze, Woohyun’s face lights up and he forcefully drags Sunggyu back to the same old street where he lives, without an explanation. “What the hell, Woohyun-this is where I live-I haven’t cleaned my apartment in days,” Sunggyu whines as he tries to pry Woohyun’s strong fingers away from his wrist.

“My boyfriend works here! You haven’t seen him before, have you? I told you I’d get you both to meet someday, and this is fate! You don’t deny fate!” Woohyun chirps, as he tugs the sky blue beanie further down on below his ears, and tucks his hands into his jeans pocket when Sunggyu does manage to get his wrist free. “Even if you did, you wouldn’t know…”

“I know he’s very tall, and very charming, source from Nam Woohyun… you’ve never even shown me a photo of the both of you before-what kind of friend are you-” Sunggyu jokingly chastises, as Woohyun tugs on his arm hurriedly and leads him to the street where he works. Oh? This place looks really familiar-

They walk into the café where Sunggyu and Howon always get free coffee from, where Sungyeol the barista works, where they always spend the evenings giggling at whipped cream on noses and laughing at the pranks Sungyeol pulls in their coffees. As they approach the tables, Woohyun sits Sunggyu down before rushing to the inner room of the café where the employees dash about busily. The interior of the café is a warm, soft brown, and the tables are a matching shade of wood and teak. Sunggyu reclines against the soft cushions of the seat as he waits, looking out of the windows, and not long after, Woohyun bounds out again, his voice loud, and someone’s with him-wait-

It’s Sungyeol, Sunggyu realizes with a start, Lee fucking Sungyeol, the same barista who keeps giving the both of them free lattes and espressos and sometimes help to clean up in their gift shop-it’s Sungyeol. Woohyun drags the lanky male to where Sunggyu is sitting, and when Sungyeol sees Sunggyu, his face turns red and Sunggyu laughs.

“You guys know each other?” Woohyun asks with wide eyes when they sit down opposite Sunggyu, and Sunggyu grins knowingly.

“Sunggyu and Howon work just opposite!” Sungyeol announces happily, pointing at the gift shop through the polished glass dropdown window, and chuckles. “And they always come here get coffee-”

“-Free coffee, actually,” Sunggyu interrupts.

“Right. Free coffee. Coffee is expensive, Sunggyu. Sometimes I wonder why I even do that, and then I remember it’s because I’m too nice,” Sungyeol says, smiles and Woohyun clicks his tongue before glaring at him.

Sungyeol just leans back and hums, and someone from the back calls him back. “Order whatever you want, guys, it’s on me.”

“Isn’t he just a charmer?” Woohyun sighs contentedly, a dreamy grin on his face as he watches Sungyeol walk back to work. “Anyway, who’s Howon?” Woohyun asks a second later, his eyes sparkling curiously, when Sungyeol’s back view is no longer in sight, leaving only the both of them, quiet, at the table.

“Howon?” Sunggyu asks, twirling the straw in his drink. “He’s my… colleague? We’re working together because the boss decided to travel around the world…”

“Colleague? Only a colleague, just a colleague? Don’t lie to me, Sunggyu, we’ve been years of best friends, okay, don’t underestimate me like that. I can see your face, it says I am lying on your forehead,” Woohyun snorts and wriggles his brows as he pokes his index finger on Sunggyu’s chest repeatedly.

Sunggyu frowns, busies himself with the drink and ignores Woohyun.

It’s late in the afternoon when they say their short goodbyes, at the busy crossroad in front of the subway station. Woohyun is apparently taking various classes to prepare himself for furthering his studies next year, and Sunggyu pats him on the back with a bright smile, wishes him luck, and shoves him into the crowd bustling into the subway entrance to catch the next train.

The setting sun slowly disappears amidst a flurry of chilly breezes, falling leaves and busy footsteps, leaving in its wake a plethora of fading, orange sun rays on the rough ground, and a layer of sweet warmth just above the ground to warm the homeless people’s feet. It happens everyday, but today Sunggyu squints to see the intense sunlight piercing through a withered leaf, turning the depressing brown into light, lively shades of orange and tangerine.

Sunggyu turns around slowly, back facing the sun as he traces his steps back to the shop, and he kicks his boots against the floor rug at the door to get rid of the tiny stones and rocks stuck on the bottom of his boots, and Howon shoots him an odd look.

“You’ve been out all afternoon,” Howon says, setting a small flower pot down on a high counter and wiping his hands on his purple apron. “Where’ve you been? You look so down, too.”

“I met a friend at the subway after I bought the things so we talked… Oh, did you know? Sungyeol’s my best friend’s boyfriend, talk about living on a small world,” Sunggyu rambles as he leaves the plastic bag on the counter.

“Do you think we could blackmail him with his embarrassing acts for coffee-like that time where he fell of the ladder laughing,” Howon replies and his eyes light up before breaking out in loud laughter.

There’s a short moment where the both of them go quiet, but not really, because Howon is humming to Christmas carols softly, and the little store goes momentarily silent when Howon walks to the storage room. He then walks out with a huge Christmas tree (okay, it isn’t huge, but they aren’t the tallest people of the batch), which is about two heads higher than Howon.

“Sungjong ordered it for us! It got delivered here while you were out. I wanted to call you to get more decorations for the tree, but your phone was switched off…” Howon smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head as he attempts to push the tall tree to the left side of the counter.

“Woah,” Sunggyu manages, as he tilts his head up to look up at the bare tree. “You should’ve kept it in there first. It looks so ugly like this.”

Howon laughs and shrugs. “It’s your fault for not answering the phone, then.”

It’s not much, but Howon strokes his chin with his fingers and hums, then rushes to the storage room. Sunggyu props his legs up the stool, looking at the closed door lazily, until Howon dashes out with what seems like a wrinkly cardboard box. He gingerly sets the box down in front of Sunggyu noiselessly, as Sunggyu pokes at the tape-sealed opening of the box. “Yah, what is this?” Sunggyu asks when he looks up at Howon.

“I don’t know,” Howon answers and frowns, before getting a pair of scissors from the counter to cut and rip the tape open. “But if Sungjong kept it like that… It’s only our job to ruin it.”

There’s a quick pang of something ringing of familiarity and a weird sense of being together in Sunggyu when Howon says that, and before he can stop himself, he hops down the tall stool to help Howon get rid of the old, yellowing tape.

When the reluctant tape falls away from the dusty box, Sunggyu coughs and fans the air with his hands. Howon slowly opens the box with frantic hands, and Sunggyu’s eyes catch sight of something bright.

“It’s a star-” They both say, and then end up laughing.

“So Sungjong reuses his Christmas decorations, what a miser,” Howon teases and clicks his tongue as Sunggyu nods along.

Sunggyu yanks out the dusty plastic star from the bottom of the box as Howon continues to explore the different things in the box. It’s a little dirty, with layers of old dust sticking on the surface and the originally white sheen of the plastic is fading into weary yellow.

“We’re going to save money like that,” Howon murmurs, as he pours out all sorts of bells, intricately decorated plastic balls, miniature figures of the gingerbread man, Santa Claus and reindeers. There are tiny stars with a ring attached on top, glittering bright blue and white. Sunggyu cups the stars into his hands and pads to the tree.

He hangs the little stars around the lowest ring of the tree, watching as they sparkle in contrast to the dark pine tree. Howon gathers the rest of the ornaments and slowly decorates the tree up, each ring a different kind. At the top, Howon jumps to stick the star in, but fails terribly as Sunggyu breaks out into loud howls of laughter.

“You do it!” Howon huffs and shoves the star at Sunggyu’s chest.

“Get me the ladder,” Sunggyu says, and he climbs up the ladder hesitantly, shaking a little as he successfully clambers over the tree to stick the star, lopsided into the tree.

“To the right,” Howon calls from below. Sunggyu clicks his tongue and taps the star to the right so that it balances.

Sunggyu ignores Howon’s protests of the star not being horizontal enough as he sighs and slowly retreats down the ladder. Halfway, he misses a step and he flails his arms around before he loses balance and falls onto the complaining Howon.

Since when did his life become such a clichéd drama? Oh right, when he’d decided to work. Well then. Howon goes silent for a moment as Sunggyu struggles and searches for the courage to open his eyes. When he finally does manage to open them, he’s faced with Howon’s face up close (he’s never been this close before, okay), and Howon’s eyes are filled with the same amount of shock.

Sunggyu vaguely wonders which way will be the least awkward as he attempts to roll off Howon silently, but Howon has his hands on Sunggyu’s arms in the next moment, and Sunggyu wants to ask what are you doing, but Howon tugs him close and presses his lips against Sunggyu’s own.

It’s a quick moment before Sunggyu realizes it and he pulls away abruptly, blinking and rambling hotly about how he’s sorry he toppled onto Howon and Howon blinks at Sunggyu with a hint of a resigned smile on the corner of his lips.

Sunggyu silently shuffles back onto the stool with trembling fingers on his lips. “It’s my first kiss, you idiot,” He whispers as Howon skips out of the glass doors to get them coffee.

The next day, Woohyun calls when Sunggyu is barely awake.

“You’re in love,” Woohyun squeaks loudly from over the line.

“What the fuck,” Sunggyu replies sleepily, and after he hangs up and wakes up a little, he mentally envisions a very painful death for Lee Sungyeol.

It’s a cold morning, and there’s only one day to Christmas, and Sunggyu strides into the café and squeezes through customers in thick jackets and snow boots and cute beanies. The café is bustling today more than ever because the best cure to the morning chill is a cup of hot, steaming coffee. Lee Sungyeol, Sunggyu thinks, you are so dead today. He finally manages to get to the doors where it says ‘no entry except employees’ and swings it open.

“Oh, hey, Sunggyu-hyung, what brings you here on a fine morning?” Sungyeol greets with a bright smile as he sprinkles chocolate flakes on whipped cream.

“What did you tell Woohyun? He’s been up my ass all morning telling me I’m in love, like I wouldn’t know if I was in love?” Sunggyu rants, as his phone vibrates in his hand. “Oh, look. It must be another text from him again, saying I am so dense and stupid. What is going on, Sungyeol?”

“Howon came here yesterday, remember?” Sungyeol prompts as he wipes the tall glasses dry. “He told me about what happened, so I… told Woohyun. I hoped he could help you!” He squeaks, and uses a tray to cover his face.

“Did you just use Woohyun and help in a same sentence,” Sunggyu moans as he buries his face into his palms, “I am going to die,” he mutters into his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Sungyeol replies weakly as Sunggyu threatens to die in their kitchen.

Later, Sunggyu is sent out of the café with two plastic cups filled with warm caramel frappe.

It’s early, too early, Sunggyu thinks and sighs as he fishes out the set of keys to open the glass doors to the store and he hadn’t planned to be this early. He’d planned a stay longer in the café to kick Sungyeol in the shins or something, or telling Woohyun about him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The doors swing open with a soft creak and the bells jingle quietly above. He leaves one cup on the counter for Howon and begins to sip quietly as he bustles around the little shop, rearranging flowers and shelves.

There’s still about half an hour until Howon’s supposed to reach, and Sunggyu spends the better half of the time sitting down idling and counting the number of petals the sunflowers have. The other half, though, he contemplates on whether to get Howon a Christmas gift, or not. They both hate Christmas, though. And Sunggyu isn’t usually one to go around thinking what he should buy for people. He just comes down to Sungjong’s shop to buy random items. But it is Howon here he’s talking about, and maybe they can make each other feel better about the bright and joyous holiday by celebrating together. Should Sunggyu get him a new pair of headphones, since Howon accidentally got glue on one side and now it wouldn’t work? Or should he get him a coffee maker, since he likes Americano so much? Maybe-

Sunggyu stops thinking and looks up as the door swings open. The coffee cup is empty beside his legs and he gestures towards the full cup on the counter. “Good morning,” Sunggyu says lazily as Howon yanks the long scarf around his neck off and tosses it beside his bag on the little couch they have behind.

“Good morning, why are you here so early? You’re never this early, sleepyhead,” Howon answers brightly and takes the coffee in one hand. “Do you have insomnia? Or are you afraid of the dark? Or have you been on the phone with your best friend last night?”

Sunggyu sputters and turns red at the indirect mention of Woohyun as he gets reminded of the conversation in the morning. “I couldn’t sleep,” He lies instead, and hopes the lie gets across.

“Too much coffee, eh?” Howon answers instead, hopping on one of the wooden tall stools. “Honestly though, I think we drink too much coffee. I keep sleeping late, too.”

“Let’s sue Sungyeol,” Sunggyu moans as he throws the cup into the bin. “He keeps messing up my life,” He continues, and he blinks.

“He did?” Howon asks with a puzzled glance, and Sunggyu clasps his hand over his mouth and wishes he didn’t say it.

“Yeah. He told Woohyun weird things about me. But they aren’t important. Sungyeol is such a tattletale,” Sunggyu explains and frowns. “Now Woohyun won’t leave me alone-he sent me thirteen texts an hour ago, and I think it’s still coming. I don’t know, Howon.”

“Did you try explaining things to him? Maybe there was something he misunderstood? Did Sungyeol tell him wrong information? Why don’t you talk to him?” Howon asks softly as he crouches down beside Sunggyu, a wet rag in his hands.

Sunggyu watches as the tiny droplets of water fall to the polished wooden floor quietly. “I don’t know what’s happening exactly, either. I wish I did. I feel so messed up inside, Howon; I don’t even know how to explain what I’m feeling. I wish Woohyun’s dead wrong, but I can’t bring myself to tell him so because he’s not. Not entirely wrong, anyway.”

“What did Woohyun say?” Howon whispers with worried eyes as he sits down, cross-legged, on the floor.

He can’t do this, Sunggyu thinks, he can’t say it. But he says it anyway. “He says I’m in love. That’s stupid. I’m working everyday and the only people I meet are probably you, Sungyeol, the boss and the other workers at the café and our customers. Where do I even get the time to fall in love? I don’t get him anymore, it’s so frustrating,” Sunggyu rants in one breath.

Howon looks perplexed for a short moment when Sunggyu tentatively shoots a glance at him. “Does it have something to do with me?” Howon says quietly and Sunggyu blinks. Twice. And then slowly, he takes a shallow breath.

“Yeah.” There we go.

“And you talked to Sungyeol this morning?” Howon asks, and jerks his chin in the direction of the empty coffee cups. Sunggyu nods guiltily. “I’ve talked to him yesterday… about… things, but I didn’t expect him to tell Woohyun. If it made things hard for you, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be.” There’s a quick moment of silence as Howon thinks. “If you’re uncomfortable with me right now, you can tell me, you know? I’m pretty talented. I can get a job anywhere else-”

“Shut up,” Sunggyu mutters into the patch of jeans on his knees, “I like you.”

Sunggyu refuses to meet Howon’s eyes but he can feel them trained on him without pause. A few seconds pass, but Sunggyu thinks it feels like millennia, and Howon goes on without replying. Sunggyu, for a horrifying moment, thinks Howon’s going to reject him. You’re so stupid, how could you conclude he likes you just because he told Sungyeol about what happened? You brought this upon yourself, Kim Sunggyu, now don’t you regret. He’s going to tell you how much of an idiot you are for thinking that he likes you. You’re so stupid, Kim Sunggyu.

“You’re an idiot,” Howon says, and Sunggyu’s head snaps up. Oh no.

Before Howon can continue, though, the silver bells at the door tinkle quietly in the morning rush as two customers walk in. “How may I help you?” Howon says and brushes Sunggyu off at the counter, a relieved sigh escaping his lips.

The rest of the morning, and the afternoon, pass by like the quick winter breeze outside. Customers bustle in and out, picking the finest and prettiest gifts for their loved ones, and Howon rushes in and out of the storage room, with boxes and snow globes in his hands. Sunggyu sits at the counter and helps customers with gift wrapping and payment, and it’s a really busy day. Can’t blame them, though, it’s one day to Christmas. Sunggyu idly wonders about getting a gift to Howon again, and he looks at Howon’s back view as Howon busies himself with a clipboard.

Business slows at five. It always goes like this: the morning rush for customers who want to get presents for their family members and their colleagues; the afternoon bustle for customers who had forgotten about such details, and had decided to come get a gift as a last-minute resort. In the late afternoon, usually parents drop by to get gifts for their children when they get home from work. It’s a busy job, but it’s a lovely job. It makes Sunggyu feel more than a worker. He feels the hearts of people getting gifts.

Howon strolls over to the door and flips the ‘Welcome, we’re open’ sign to the ‘Sorry, we’re closed’ side. Sunggyu shifts in his stool uneasily, wringing the dry cloth in his hands. His palms feel sticky, he doesn’t know if it’s because of all the tape he had used earlier, or is it because he’s sweating. He’s probably sweating a lot as Howon approaches him with small steps.

“I’ve thought about what you said-” Howon says, and he pauses to chuckle. “-no, I didn’t even need to think. I wanted to reply you in the morning, sorry. Yesterday I went to look Sungyeol up… it’s not because I wanted to tell him what happened between us that day. It’s because I was confused, and I told him what we have between us. I guess he told Woohyun, and things became like this.”

“I don’t understand,” Sunggyu replies simply.

“I don’t know how to explain it, either-I probably feel like how you feel, I think. I think I like you, too, but I thought I’d just let it die down because I thought you probably don’t feel the same way. But after that day, I-I feel like I can’t just leave my feelings alone. They’re like constantly propagating and taking up the spaces in my heart and sometimes it’s hard to even breathe, do you know that?” Howon is pacing around the counter, hands in his pocket. Sunggyu doesn’t know where to look or how to feel.

“That’s why I called you an idiot, you idiot. You didn’t have to go all emotional just because Woohyun said that, and you can’t even tell him he’s wrong, because you know he’s not,” Howon continues. Sunggyu’s eyes settle on Howon’s striking green shoelaces. “Tell me how you feel.”

“I like you?” Sunggyu tries.

“Try again,” Howon says and wriggles his eyebrows.

“I think about you a lot. Like I was wondering what I should get for you for Christmas. Would you like it more if I got you headphones, a snow globe, an MP3 player, a pair of new sneakers, or treated you to dinner? Sometimes I go to the café and I go, oh, two cups of green tea latte, one with whipped cream and one without, because I remember that you don’t like oily stuff. Sometimes these little details hurt my head. When I think of you… I think of warm things. Like my mom’s kimchi stew, like the stifling heat of the sand in summer, or like a hot blanket in winter. You’re comforting, and I like you.” Sunggyu immediately flushes red and tries to hide his face in his arms when he finishes.

Sunggyu keeps his eyes closed as he prays fervently for Howon not to say anything to add on to his embarrassment, but they flutter open when he feels strong arms around his waist and a kind of very familiar warmth against his back.

“See? This is how easy it takes to get your heart functioning normally again,” Howon whispers into his ear and laughs. “Also… I don’t think I need a Christmas gift. You’re fine. I like you. Buy yourself for me. Maybe you could wrap yourself up too… I like purple.”

“Mmm,” Sunggyu replies, closing his eyes and sinking into the warmth of Howon’s body behind, “you can be my gift too. Don’t wrap that, mister; you’ll waste a lot of wrapping paper. It’s expensive. Think about Sungjong.”

Later, when they leave the shop and Howon locks the doors, Sunggyu’s phone vibrates with a new text.

Are you coming home for Christmas?

There’s a quick rush of hope in his heart as his numb fingers tap in a quick reply.

Of course. Remember to cook kimchi stew.

The sun sets, as usual, but Sunggyu can see hues of pink today. It’s lovely.

In the morning, Sunggyu is rudely awakened by the loud ringtone of his phone. It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake, such forms of harassment at donkey o’ clock in the morning shouldn’t even be legal-why does Sunggyu even bother to turn his silent mode off when he sleeps-maybe he needs to learn to keep it switched off-

“Hello?” He says groggily to the phone after picking it up from the side of his bed, without checking the name caller.

“You’re in love,” Woohyun squeaks loudly from over the line.

Sunggyu hangs up.

Note: Hi, recipient! I know I’ve deviated from the prompt a lot, but please forgive me because I thought this would be a better way to present it :) I hope you like it!