Chapter Text
As you walked into the 24-hour grocery store at 10:30pm on a Tuesday night, the smell of the old building and various types of produce, meat, and fish assaulted your senses. Not only that, but there was something else, something incredibly nostalgic about the way this place smelled. Maybe this was why, after all these years, it was still the only grocery store you ever wanted to go to.
Now that the divorce was finalized and your now-ex-husband no longer had a say in where the groceries were purchased, you felt trips like these to be an indulgence. When you went this late at night, it felt like you were stepping out of your skin, and into something else. It nearly felt you didn’t exist, like you were invisible.
Despite how late it was, however, the store was surprisingly busy, the aisles filled with all manner of shopper from every background imaginable: construction workers, single parents, businessmen, college students – all of different racial and ethnic backgrounds. The one thing most of them had in common was most likely their income, and even though you no longer needed to shop in a place like this, it didn’t change where you came from.
You grabbed a couple yellow onions, some carrots, and a few sweet potatoes, and placed them in your shopping cart. Your high heels clicked loudly on the concrete floor as you walked down the aisles.
Your ex never understood you on those terms, and it was one thing you often butted heads about. Even if you have everything in common with someone, when one person was born with a silver spoon in their mouth, and the other had to claw their way to be where they’re at – it’s bound to cause tension. Resentment. Misunderstanding.
As you rounded the corner, lost deep in thought, you bumped into another shopping cart and the handle of your cart was thrust into your stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of you.
“Shit, my bad, are you okay?” a clear, subtly masculine voice asked, and you looked up to see his face looking horrified. The young man had shaggy hair, the bottom layers dyed dark brown, and the top layers dyed a warm honey blonde. His deep brown, slightly downturned eyes were open wide behind a pair of metal-rimmed glasses. He was cute. Handsome, even.
You swallowed the mild ache in your gut and forced a smile, not wanting him to feel bad. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about it, I’m fine. Sorry, that really was my fault.”
He bowed slightly and gave you an apologetic smile before navigating his cart around you and moving on. He was wearing an oversized baseball jersey and the baggiest pair of denim shorts you’d ever seen – if they could even be called shorts at that point. He couldn’t have been older than 22, you considered, as he passed you by, and became lost in thought about your early twenties, which seemed so far away at this point in your life.
Despite the little accident that you’d just had, you stayed in your daydreamy state until you found yourself in line at check-out. It wasn’t until the person in front of you had pulled out his card to pay that you realized it was the same guy who’d bumped into you.
You saw him running a hand through his bleach-damaged hair exasperatedly, and just barely caught him saying to the cashier in a low voice, “No, I swear there should be enough on this card, just give me a minute.” He pulled out his phone, tapping and swiping furiously, and you could see his face reddening by the moment.
You weren’t sure what came over you but the situation was too painful to watch without doing something, so you walked swiftly around your cart to where he was standing at the register and tapped your card on the reader. It took just a second, but the machine beeped, indicating that the payment had gone through, and in the next moment, the cashier was smiling and handing the man his receipt. His eyes were wide in shock as he took it, thanked her, then looked at you, dumbstruck, opened his mouth to say something, but you just winked at him with a smile and said “Excuse me,” as you stepped into his space to start paying for your own groceries.
His face flushed even brighter red as he stepped out of your way, awkwardly grabbed his groceries and walked away briskly without another word.
“That was really nice of you, sweetheart,” the cashier said, and you grinned at her, dismissing her comments as politely as you could. Because truly, it had been nothing.
You bagged up your groceries and pushed your cart out of the store into the cool autumn air, and took a deep breath. This was your first autumn in several years that you’d be spending single, and there was something so peaceful about it all: the late night shopping trip, the seasonal fall items starting to line the store shelves, walking through the cool, dark parking lot alone. It filled you with a sort of quiet thrill, and you smiled to yourself as you began to load the groceries into the trunk of your car.
“Sorry, excuse me?” you heard a familiar masculine voice from behind you, and turned around to find none other than the young man from before.
“Hey, I’m sorry to approach you in the parking lot like this, I swear I’m not trying to be creepy,” he began, holding his hands up inoffensively, “but I was too dumb to thank you earlier and I’d really like to pay you back in some way. Could I please get your contact information?”
You smiled, pleasantly surprised by the interaction. “It’s really okay. I’m not worried about it. Pay it forward, I guess?” you said, trying to shake him off, since being repaid was in no way your plans.
He sighed, putting the palms of his hands together in a gesture of pleading and holding them up dramatically. “Please, ma’am, I really insist.”
Ma’am.
The word had rolled off of his tongue so effortlessly, and it now rolled around in your head. Did you really look that old? You took in his appearance one last time, noting his grungy white sneakers and off-white socks, the way they contrasted with your sensible heels and fitted dark trousers.
“Give me your phone,” you ordered flatly, an odd, newfound attitude taking over. He dropped his hands immediately and rummaged in his pocket, pulling out his phone and unlocking it as quickly as he could before handing it over to you. Soft, you thought, as his fingers brushed against yours. His hands were surprisingly soft.
You opened his messaging app and sent a text message to your number, and heard your own phone vibrate from your purse.
Handing his phone back to him, he opened up the messaging app to look at the text that you had sent. “Y/n,” he said quietly, then looked at you and you gave him a curt smile. “I’m Jongseob,” he said, returning the smile, although his was much warmer.
“Nice to meet you, Jongseob. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish loading up my groceries and head home,” you said, a teasing tone in your voice. He sputtered. “Oh–yes, of course, sorry, I’ll um– could I at least help you with them?” he asked, reaching over to one of the bags in your cart, but you put a gentle hand on his arm and looked him dead in the eye, his face mere inches from yours. “I appreciate it, but that won’t be necessary. Have a good night,” you said with a wink, and a furious blush took over his face as he nodded, apologized, thanked you once again, and hurried awkwardly to his car.
Later, at home, you settled into bed, wearing your silkiest pajamas. You took a sip of red wine, set the glass on your nightstand, and opened up your phone to see the text message that you had sent yourself from Jongseob’s phone. It was just a smile emoji, and you kicked yourself for not thinking of something more playful, although you weren’t sure why that idea came to you. That would have been wildly inappropriate – he had just wanted your number so that he could repay you.
You sighed, and saved his contact in your phone. Jongseob . His face flashed into your mind. The way his glasses were perched on his petite, soft-looking nose. His supple-looking lips that were pink with what looked like a tinted lip balm. Skin tan and clear, except for some light acne scarring. His hairstyle was a little alternative, which you found charming. It reminded you of your college days, dyeing your hair in the dorm bathroom with your friends. You smiled at the memory, wondering where all the time had gone.
You pushed away the thought as you downed the rest of your wine, switched off your lamp, and fell into a restless sleep.