Work Text:
Shit.
Another rejection.
Sieun has marked at least five that month alone, a library job, a teacher’s assistant, a tutor—he had even gotten desperate enough to apply to the coffee shop on campus—and now another rejected application for an information desk assistant is sitting in his email.
He is seriously starting to lose hope.
It’s not like he could go on much longer without a job—tuition is getting expensive and his parents are only giving him enough to cover his rent and essentials. Sieun has to spend one night a month just budgeting and trying to figure out what to cut back on.
His meals went from convenience store gimbap to bulk ramen packages.
But the thing is—Sieun is smart.
He could have any job on campus—should be able to get any job on campus. But every time he tries, all he gets in his email are rejection letters.
Even Baku—someone who should not be studying at this college—somehow got the information desk assistant job that Sieun had been dreaming about since the semester started. Every time Sieun walks past Baku while he’s working, there’s an unmistakable pang of jealousy in his chest.
Jealousy, of all things, was not a feeling that Sieun ever expected to feel towards Park Humin. His endless charm and persistence was something that Sieun had never even batted an eye towards until now.
If that’s how Sieun is meant to be, maybe he isn’t cut out for the job—or any for that matter.
Still, Sieun had, normally, been fine just scraping by, but he’s pretty sick of his friends always offering to pay, or barging into his apartment with food. He feels like he’s 10 years old again asking his parents for money for ice cream.
Some extra spending money would be nice, really.
He could get those pens he’s been eyeing for a few weeks now, because he’s currently trying to survive with the ones that write faded and broken.
So, even though he doesn’t want to, he’s going to have to start looking for jobs outside of campus.
Which means scrolling past the jobs that require masters degrees to instead: seriously consider working alongside teenagers who smoke in the bathrooms and old people who never went to college.
Whatever. Anything is better than what he has now.
Even if it means shaving off study hours, at the very least he’ll have enough money to take care of himself—or at least try to.
But with the semester already in full swing, even the shitty retail jobs are taken.
Sieun checks for new jobs nearly every day, but it has either ones he’s not qualified for or ones that sound like his nightmare.
Sieun wouldn’t be able to wait tables at a restaurant even at gunpoint. Seriously.
“Yeon Sieun! Don’t let it get you down, I’ll give you a recommendation!”
Currently, Sieun is hunched over his laptop on his too-small bed, and his friends are scattered all across the room. Baku has been trying to cheer Sieun up for the past hour, but none of his words have really reached him. “Please don’t, I don’t want potential employers knowing I’m friends with you.”
Baku’s word alone wouldn’t be enough to get Sieun a job there, especially with how competitive it is—and unfortunately, a recommendation coming from Baku wouldn’t hold much weight. “Wah! Ice Princess lives up to her title, huh?”
“Sieun’s right though, I know I hit rock bottom if I got a recommendation from you.” Hyuntak mumbles from next to him on the floor.
Then, like clockwork, Hyuntak ends up in a headlock, pulling and punching at Baku’s arms to no avail. As worrying as it was to watch the color drain from Hyuntak’s face the first few times Sieun watched it happen, now neither him nor Juntae bat an eye towards it.
Juntae, Sieun’s roommate, sitting on his own bed across the room, pipes up, “I can give you a recommendation at my job Sieun, it’s not too bad.”
Sieun frowns, “isn’t it kinda far from campus?”
Juntae pushes his glasses up his nose, shrugs, “yeah, but you can always take the shuttle there if you need to.”
Sieun hums, it’s the best idea any of them have given him so far—though that’s not saying a lot. He smiles politely. “I’ll think about it, thank you, Juntae.”
Juntae works as a barista at a coffee shop a bus ride away from campus. The pastries and lattes are some of the best that Sieun’s ever had, but being Juntae’s roommate means that Sieun gets the brunt of his complaints. And from everything he’s told him so far, Sieun knows about this much: the hours are horrible, most of the customers are old and grumpy since it’s far from the university, and the management is tolerable at best.
Sieun can’t count the amount of times that he’s had to comfort a crying Juntae after one of his too-long shifts. And every single time Juntae sobs into Sieun’s shoulder and tells him he’ll quit this time—really.
He does not.
Sieun knows it’s not that simple once you’re in too deep, but he’d rather not fall victim to it right away. Or ever.
But he reminds himself that beggars can’t be choosers, and that if he doesn’t find anything within the month that he’ll sell his soul to the coffee shop that came straight from hell.
Juntae laughs a little too nervously when Sieun tells him that. It’s not reassuring.
Sieun still locks down on studying as he always does, but he sets aside an hour everyday just to look at new job listings. The problem is it’s either the same ones he’s already seen or ones that he really does not want to apply for.
He knows that the waiter jobs that keep popping up do not have “flexible” hours, Sieun’s not an idiot.
He finds one or two jobs that don’t sound downright awful, a bagger at a grocery store, a cashier at some vegan smoothie bowl place that opened nearby, in a fit of desperation Sieun even tried for a tour guide position at the museum.
Still, nothing.
Sieun’s starting to have vivid images pop up in his head of the barista apron tied around his waist and that long-sleeve shirt that Juntae always comes home in. Sieun caught himself asking Juntae what his workday typically looks like a few days ago.
Now, he’s sitting in front of his computer, his head dropped in his arms, and he’s staring at the blinking cursor on his resume for the nth time that week.
Sieun groans, he had been mistakenly hopeful at the beginning of the month, diligent about applying, about sifting through the bad stuff—he has over thirty different resume copies all scattered in his downloads.
Thirty-one now, actually.
Sieun huffs, leaving the doc, clicking back to the job site and refreshing the page.
Maybe he can apply for some restaurant job that got uploaded today, maybe that bakery he saw yesterday, maybe—
‘NEW
Adult Store Red Container Customer Service Representative
We are looking for someone dedicated to helping our customers find maximum pleasure by selling high value products. As our customer service representative you will be responsible for … READ MORE’
Sieun blinks.
He’s never seen this one before.
In the weeks Sieun’s spent refreshing the job site like he’s trying to buy concert tickets, he’d never seen a listing like this one.
And it’s for a fucking sex shop.
He didn’t even know Korea had a sex shop, and definitely not one not even thirty-minutes away from Sieun’s university.
It’s still far of course, might even be a few minutes farther than the coffee shop, but—and Sieun hates that he even considers this—it doesn’t seem horrible.
When he reluctantly clicks on it, he learns that the hours aren’t that bad and the responsibilities don’t seem that heavy.
It wouldn’t… hurt?
As he’s drafting up a new version of his resume, it hits Sieun that he’s so desperate for a job that isn’t a barista at the Coffee Shop From Hell, that he’s willing to apply to a place that’ll have him actively selling people butt plugs.
He’s not one to get flustered about that sort of thing though, he’s had sex before. An awkward one night encounter with some guy from a party that his friends dragged him to—the guy lasted a jaw-dropping two minutes before he pulled out and promptly left Sieun there—but technically still sex.
So no, it’s not a weird topic for him, and the idea of selling people sex toys and last minute condoms wouldn’t really faze him. It wouldn’t be that different from working a regular retail job, except that customers might be embarrassed about their purchases—or be way too eager.
Plus, Sieun only has one week left in the month, one week until he promised to give into Juntae’s offer.
And he’s determined to not let that happen.
He doesn’t think twice about it when he submits an application, mostly because it’s unlikely he’s even going to get the job. Sieun’s applied to dozens of retail jobs and hasn’t heard back from even one, he doubts that this one will end up being any different.
Though it doesn’t bring him any comfort, he’s still waiting to hear back from a few other jobs, so with a seed of hope blooming in his chest, he closes his laptop with a light huff.
Sieun usually checks his emails every morning at the library right before his classes start. Just in case a class got cancelled or one of his professors sent out an important announcement about an upcoming exam.
In this case, the first thing he’s looking for are the responses to the jobs he applied for.
4 new emails.
‘We regret to inform you…’
‘Thank you for your interest in our dishwasher position. Unfortunately…’
‘We are sorry to say…’
Sieun’s shoulders involuntarily sag forward, letting out a breath that he didn’t he was holding. His hands curl into fists in his lap—he’s gotten so used to the feeling of rejection that he’s come to nearly anticipate it.
It still stings to read though, and Sieun’s not sure he could ever enjoy the way his stomach drops when it happens.
He scrolls to his fourth email anyway, not expecting anything different.
‘We are pleased to inform you that we will be moving forward with the interview process for our Customer Service Representative position at Red Container. Please…’
Sieun freezes.
There’s no fucking way.
He doesn’t know whether to scream or cry—out of all the jobs he’s applied to all month, this is the one he ended up hearing from. And of course it is. Of course this would happen to Sieun.
He wants to be grateful, really, he does, and to an extent he is. If he does well at the interview—which is a whole other hurdle—then he’ll finally have a steady income, he could finally open a savings account, and finally be able to buy his friends birthday and Christmas gifts.
But still—it’s a fucking sex shop.
What would his parents say? Sieun can’t lie to them, they can see his bank account, they’ll know he’s getting a paycheck from somewhere.
Even the coffee shop—no matter how awful—would look a lot better on his bank account, to his parents, to his friends when they ask.
Sieun huffs, letting his leg freely bounce against his chair. If he’s seriously considering the job offer—no one has to know.
It’s just an interview, to be fair, Sieun can always say no, he’s not tied to the job at any point, from the moment the interview starts to the moment of his possible employment. Plus this is the most promising job he’s seen so far, despite what it’ll mean for him if he ends up working there.
‘Please schedule an interview at your earliest convenience down below.’
Okay. Okay.
It’s just an interview. It might not even go well, maybe they’re just looking for some college girl who’s good at flirting with the customers. Someone who can seamlessly incorporate a sales pitch while pretending to ogle at a guy’s muscles.
The chances of him getting the job are nearly zero since Sieun is none of those things.
If nothing, Sieun can consider it interview practice. So, he does the only thing that a sensible college student would do.
Sieun schedules the interview.
The earliest timeslot is for tomorrow in the afternoon, right after his class gets out. And though it’s hardly enough time to mentally prepare for it, he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible. Even if that means not getting the job.
It’s practice.
Sieun should be thankful he even got an offer in the first place, he’s been applying to so many different jobs—for over a month—and most of them never even bothered to send him a rejection email.
So even if it doesn’t go well, at least he knows what to expect for the next time—if there’s even a next time.
Sieun gets the confirmation email for the appointment and promptly slams his laptop shut.
Sieun doesn’t really own “interview” clothes.
He promptly forgot about proper attire until he was sifting through his wardrobe and only coming up with different hoodies and sweatshirts. The only semi-appropriate shirt is his button-up from high school—which doesn’t even fit him anymore.
His last hope—and the only one he ends up having time for—is Juntae’s closet.
Juntae’s closet is filled with different pastel sweaters and scarfs—Juntae tends to run cold—but past that, in the far corner of the rack, are muted, neutral button-ups and t-shirts that Sieun never sees him wear.
From what Sieun knows about Juntae’s schedule, his class ended a few hours ago and he’s at work.
But what Sieun doesn’t expect is, while urgently shoving aside hanger after hanger, the door to their dorm creaks open.
He instinctively turns towards the sound, hears the jingle of Juntae’s keychains before seeing Juntae himself. “Sieun-ah,” he says, confused, closing the door behind him, his lips part and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “what are you doing?”
Shit. Busted.
Sieun’s mouth goes dry, glancing between him and the closet. “I thought you were at work.”
In retrospect, in the midst of Sieun’s panic, he didn’t think to look for Juntae’s discarded pajamas by the corner of his bed, the ones he leaves right before he goes to work. Not to mention, all of his work uniforms are very much all hung up in his wardrobe.
Juntae pouts, shaking his head, “not today, I asked for the day off because I had a club meeting, remember?”
Juntae runs the anime club at their university, it’s a debilitating responsibility alongside having a job and going to school, but he seems to enjoy it. Sieun went to one meeting last semester, but it was a lot and definitely not really his scene.
But it is Juntae’s, and Sieun is nothing if not supportive.
And Sieun knew that the meeting was today, they meet every other week, Sieun normally pays close attention to Juntae’s schedule since it’s nice to know when he’s free for study sessions, or for group hangouts. With the interview looming over his head, it had completely slipped his mind.
Sieun closes his eyes for a moment, “sorry, I just—I have a job interview.” He blurts out the truth before he could stop himself, there’s only so many excuses Sieun could give Juntae for being in his closet.
Juntae’s eyes widen, he drops his backpack by the door and rushes over, “a job interview? I’m so proud of you!” He pulls Sieun into a hug, even though Sieun instinctively stiffens at the contact, he lets himself be enveloped into Juntae’s warm embrace.
“Thank you, Juntae,” he mumbles, then glances back to the different clothes on the hangers, “I don’t have any interview clothes, though.”
Juntae pulls away, “oh!” He reaches past Sieun into the closet, pulling out a black button-up, “wear this one, it’ll suit you.”
“Thank you,” a wave of relief washes over Sieun, he smiles appreciatively, “I’ll wash it before I return it.”
Juntae nods, then, “what job?”
Sieun’s already taking the shirt off the hanger, but he freezes at Juntae’s question, “huh?”
Juntae pushes his glasses up his nose again, clearing his throat and speaking a little clearer, “what job are you interviewing for?”
Sieun clutches the shirt in his hands tightly, his eyes falling to his socked feet, “just a grocery store nearby.” He answers. The lie burns on his tongue.
Juntae grins, “that’s great, good luck!”
He knows realistically Juntae wouldn’t judge, but that doesn’t stop him from lying about it, even if it doesn’t seem very believable. “Thank you.”
The bell attached to the door rattles with Sieun’s entrance, it reverberates across the small store, all the way to the girl behind the counter.
She has a choppy bob with pink highlights, and when she spots Sieun walk in her eyes gleam with practiced hospitality. She’s twirling a bookmark in her hand, thumbing at a book with the other. She smiles, “welcome.”
Sieun’s hands feel clammy all of a sudden, and he resists the urge to wipe them across his jeans, trying to hide the shakiness in his limbs as he makes his way over to the cashier. “I’m here for an interview.” He answers feebly, trying his best not to let his gaze wander to all the different sex toys he’s surrounded by.
He doesn’t need a reminder of what place he just walked into.
“Oh,” she says, slamming her book close, standing up from her chair with a bright grin, it looks more genuine than the one she gave him when he first entered, “Yeon Sieun, right?”
He nods, “that’s right.”
She squeals, “perfect, I was looking forward to meeting you.”
Sieun can feel the tension in his shoulders slowly disappearing, his heart quieting to a faint whisper. She’s nice, and her energy is infectious. If this is who he’s being interviewed by—Sieun has no real reason to be nervous.
She reaches down behind the counter, coming back up with a paper. She waves it in front of Sieun. “I printed out your resume,” placing it down on the counter, she continues, “it’s impressive.”
Sieun forces a polite smile, “thank y—“
“But I don’t care about that,” she waves her hand dismissively, grabbing said resume and crumbling it up into a ball, tossing it somewhere behind her. She leans forward. “I want to know about you.”
Sieun blinks, frowning. He knows he should be relieved to some capacity. If she’s not necessarily going off of what he’s accomplished—which is really only his good grades and GPA—then he doesn’t have to worry about trying to look better against an applicant who has an ungodly amount of volunteer hours and a million positive references.
He knows about interview etiquette though, knows there are certain things he can’t reveal, certain things he has to embellish. But something about the girl across from him makes him want to be real.
It feels like a trap, like she’s waiting for him to let his guard down so she can end the interview early. She might have already formulated her answer, this might be nothing more than a formality. “What do you want to know?” Sieun asks hesitantly.
She shrugs, “anything, what you like to do, what shows you’ve been watching lately, hopes and dreams,” then she pauses, “I know your dream probably wasn’t working at a place that sells sex toys, so you don’t have to say that.”
Then she adds, “unless it is, I don’t judge.”
Sieun sucks in a breath, “I like to study, I don’t really watch television, I prefer reading, and I want to be a doctor, I think.”
She places her elbows on the counter, raising her eyebrow, “you think?”
Sieun wouldn’t have been so unsure a few years ago. In high school, that was all he even cared about, his grades and making his parents proud to some extent. Which meant being a doctor or something of equal value.
But when Sieun met his friends, and he was pulled out of his numbing routine for the first time, it was like he could finally breathe.
Now things like grades, being “the perfect son”—it was all a distant memory.
Sieun still cared, of course, just not in the same way. Now it hardly mattered what field he went into, so long as he had his friends, he would be happy doing just about anything.
But that was the problem—with sudden freedom in his hands—he was at a loss. Sieun had been a brainless robot running on autopilot for years, and anytime someone asked him what he wanted to do out of college, his default answer was always “doctor”.
But now that he was alive—really alive—he didn’t know what he wanted.
He’s been sticking with the goal for so long that, eventually, it ended up sounding right to his own ears.
Being a doctor wouldn’t be that difficult for Sieun, it was doable. But he wanted to do it because he wanted to, not because he felt like he had to. “I think so.” Sieun repeats.
She nods, “okay,” then she smacks her lips, “you got the job.”
Sieun feels like the air just got knocked out of him.
He thinks he’s heard her wrong, that he needs to get his ears checked, because there’s no way his simple answer was enough to get him the job. “I-what?”
She shrugs, “if you want it, it’s yours,” then adds, “we need cuter employees.”
Sieun wonders if he’s in a dream, that none of this is really happening and this is all part of some sick prank that his brain is playing on him.
He had expected to walk in for the interview with the hope of a callback, only to get rejected and then Sieun could move on to applying to different jobs again. He’d have interview experience and then that would be that.
Sieun did not plan to walk out of said interview with an actual job.
He swallows, “can I think about it?” Sieun knows that’s the equivalent of telling a potential employer that he’s just not interested, but it’s the only words he manages to spit out.
But all she does is nod, unfazed, “of course, I know it’s kind of a lot,” she’s wearing a reassuring smile that doesn’t bring Sieun any comfort, “Come by next week on Monday for a trial if you want the job, or you can just call and tell me you don’t want it.”
Okay. Sieun can do that. He nods, “okay, I’ll let you know.”
There’s a glint of excitement in her eyes when she reaches forward for a handshake, “I’m Youngyi, by the way.”
Sieun takes Youngyi’s hand, then she adds, “Hopefully I’ll see you then.”
Sieun is torn for a lot of different reasons.
For one, and arguably the most important, as much as he needs the cash, he can’t just pretend that this is a normal job. He’s not selling clothes or bagging groceries—he’d be selling things like dildos and condoms.
The concept is so ridiculous that he doesn’t even want to believe he really got a job offer in the first place.
Not to mention he’s not sure how long he can keep up the grocery store lie.
It’s one thing to offhandedly mention it to Juntae, it’s a whole other thing to stick with it and lie to all his friends about it.
But it’s also a job. With income.
And it’s not Juntae’s shitty coffee shop job, it’s a quiet sex shop with—at the very least—employees that don’t hate themselves.
Which is why, on Monday, despite the internal battle he had with himself, he finds his reflection staring back at him from a glass door, advertising a brand new vibrator with twelve settings.
The inside is just as he’d remembered it, a shelf of vibrators, of different lubes, lingerie, and—cock rings.
Sieun shudders.
The same girl from last week—Youngyi—is putting panties on display with unexpected care, “oh, you’re back!”
Sieun nods, he’s wearing jeans and a different shirt from Juntae’s closet, it fits funny, he finds himself adjusting the sleeves every few minutes. And he feels out of place, the store is colorful and loud, the packaging to all the different items are so indiscreet it gives him whiplash.
He hadn’t paid as much attention the last time he came, but now that Youngyi is up and rearranging displays, he finds himself staring. Youngyi seems to notice Sieun’s bewilderment because then she says: “yeah, I think the blowup dolls are kind of insane, too.”
Sieun doesn’t end up doing much for the trial, just learns the ins and outs of the store and the cash register, a thankfully easy system with labels for all the items and a barcode scanner. “All the sex toys are divided into sections, the dildos, the lube, the strapons, the whips,” it’s so filthy, but she’s talking about it like they’re just different isles at a grocery store. “Oh, that reminds me, I should probably tell you about Seongje.”
She grimaces, reaching underneath the register to pull out a photo.
It’s a shitty screenshot from—what looks to be—the camera footage, it’s black and white and grainy, but Sieun can still make out the form and the face of the man in it. He’s wearing browline glasses and his hair is parted in the middle, his posture has an air of arrogance surrounding him. He’s holding a blindfold in his hand, of all things. “Is this—”
“Yeah, Seongje’s one of our regulars, comes in a few times a week, he can be kinda creepy to our male employees.” Her gaze flicks towards Sieun, “especially the cute ones.”
Sieun nearly chokes.
That’s the second time that Youngyi has called him that and he’s starting to believe he only got the job for his looks—he’d be more offended if he wasn’t actively thinking about his paycheck.
Youngyi brushes past it, “just don’t show interest, he’ll leave you alone after a while.”
She adds, under her breath, “I think.”
Sieun pretends he didn’t hear that. “Why don’t you just ban him from the store?”
Youngyi shrugs, “he brings in sales, and he’s mostly harmless, just,” she pauses, thinking about it, her lips curling into a pout, she looks cute, lost in thought like that, “invasive, I guess.”
Sieun doesn’t want to imagine what he’s invasive about considering this is a sex shop.
Youngyi’s thorough in her instructions for Sieun, like she’s trained a million people in her time working there. But it’s no surprise, it’s her performance that had promoted her to the manager role in the first place, in just under a year at that. “I didn’t really want to be manager,” she says, while they’re in the midst of restocking, “but no one else would do it.”
“Why didn’t you just let the old manager figure it out?”
Sieun’s pulling out different packaged dildos from a cardboard box while Youngyi’s taking a few out of their packaging for a display. “I figured it was better for me to take the job than some random person who could be worse.” She rips open another box with a loud tear, “and I’m pretty lenient, you’re a student right? You could do your homework if it’s not busy.”
Sieun can’t believe what he’s hearing—is this really how jobs are?
Everything he’s learned about the place so far, the hours, the job environment, how quiet it is—he’s pretty sure he’s in heaven.
And his heaven sells nipple clamps, apparently.
But he still had one more thing left to learn—to properly sell products to customers.
Sieun hadn’t had much trouble thus far, figuring out the cash register wasn’t exactly rocket science, and restocking was easy once he made an internal map of where everything was.
It was once he had to actually talk to the customers he found himself drawing a blank.
Studying different topics every single day meant nothing if he could barely make conversation, let alone a sale. “Since you’re cute, you should really lean into the whole ‘innocent doesn’t-realize-he’s-flirting, batting your eyes’ kind of vibe,” Youngyi starts, standing behind the cash register, they’re both unabashedly watching a guy look at the pheromone perfumes. “Do you want to try talking to this one?”
Sieun sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth. “Youngyi, I don’t think I can do that.”
She grins, claps her hands, “oh, that’s good, make sure to bite your lip!” She reaches for Sieun’s shoulders to push him out from behind the counter.
Maybe this job isn’t that great, actually.
Sieun resists the urge to make a face as he makes his way over, the customer is holding one of the perfume packages in his hands. “Do you need help with anything?” Sieun asks, he tucks his hands behind his back, makes himself look smaller than usual—innocent.
This won’t work, there’s no way this will work.
The man turns to him, blinking, “oh, um,” he sputters, turning back to the shelf, “yeah, I just—well, do you have a recommendation?”
He pushes up the glasses at the bridge of his nose, doing his best to avoid Sieun’s eye, his cheeks are starting to bloom a deep red.
Sieun sucks in a breath, fixes his doe eyes up at him, “I think any of them would suit you,” Sieun swallows the bile rising up his throat, keeps his voice leveled, “but I think…”
Sieun reaches past him, grabbing at a random perfume, making sure to get close, accidentally brushing his arm with his hand. Sieun’s voice drops down to a low whisper, “I think this might suit you better.”
The man visibly swallows, taking the perfume from Sieun’s hand. “Okay, yeah, I’ll-I’ll get this one.”
He walks over to the register like he’s under a trance, and Youngyi rings him up with a smile, then when the door shuts behind him, she shouts: “That was perfect!” She holds her hand up for a high-five.
Sieun returns it half-heartedly, he still feels icky. “Is that really how you make a sale?”
Youngyi’s nose scrunches, “not really, but I don’t think you’re capable of doing it the old-fashioned way.”
Sieun should take offense, but he watched her manage to sell a leash earlier, so he doesn’t argue. She sighs wistfully, “sex sells, Sieun.”
If that’s true—Sieun’s not sure if he should take the job.
Sieun takes the job.
He tells himself every time he’s in the shop he’s going to tell Youngyi it’s just not working.
But then he’s restocking, then he’s ringing up a lesbian couple, then he’s explaining to someone what purpose cock rings serve—then his shift ends.
And it’s not bad, not really.
It’s been a few weeks and he’s more familiar with where everything is now, he still gets confused when he goes to the second floor though—which he didn't even know about until he saw another employee come down the stairs—since he doesn’t go up there often.
And it’s just as he expected, there aren’t usually a lot of customers, besides the soft pop music in the speakers, and it’s always quiet enough that he can study.
He eventually finds himself staring into his textbook even when there’s a customer in the store, since there’s plenty of people who come in just to look and leave without buying anything.
Sieun’s fallen into a routine without even realizing it.
But then, Sieun finally meets Seongje.
It’s inevitable considering how often he comes by, and according to Youngyi he knows every employee by name.
But it’s a relatively slow day when he comes, Sieun’s flipping through one of his textbooks, one of his knees is resting onto the seat of the uncomfortable chair behind the register, his other leg is planted onto the floor, he’s moving the chair back and forth with the heel of his foot. It creaks every time he does.
The bell to the door rings.
He doesn’t spare a glance, just mutters a “welcome” and flips to the next page in his textbook.
But when the footsteps get closer, and all the hairs on the back of Sieun’s neck stand up, he looks up. “I haven’t seen you before, newbie.”
The sound of Seongje’s voice sends chills down Sieun’s spine. It’s deep and velvety, but not in a comforting way—far from it.
The sound of the chair falling to the floor snaps him out of it. “I just started.” It’s the only thing he can say, there’s a page stuck in between the pads of his fingers. His body refuses to move.
Seongje shoves his hands in his pockets, there’s a smirk pulling at his lips, like he already knows everything there is to know about Sieun. “You’re a pretty one,” Seongje’s eyes scan Sieun’s face, then they flick downward. His gaze—no doubt—trying to undress him. Any ounce of confidence that Sieun had thus far has disappeared. “Do you mind coming over to help me?”
He knows that Sieun can’t say no, knows that there’s a line that Sieun can’t cross.
Sieun nods, closing his textbook and following Seongje, he makes sure to keep his distance. He refuses to look scared—since Sieun’s convinced Seongje can smell fear.
As Seongje’s leading them, the bell to the door rings again. Though the sound is normally like nails on a chalkboard, right now, it feels like his guardian angel just walked in.
“Welcome.” Sieun says with a practiced smile, his feet already carrying him towards the customer.
Ignoring Seongje’s gaze, now burning holes in the back of his head, he’s about to properly greet the customer. Though most of the time he barely even glances up at who comes in, he’s desperate for an escape route. Then Seongje whistles, “hey,” his voice somehow cuts through the music playing through the speakers, commanding the room with nothing but intimidation. “I wasn’t done with you, newbie.”
Sieun freezes, resists groaning in his face. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath, then turning back to Seongje, his expression reverting back to his poker face. Sieun bites his tongue as he trails behind him.
Seongje leads them to the whips, “I’ve been wanting to buy a new one for a while, my last one broke.”
Sieun doesn’t need that visual. Seriously.
“Which one do you recommend?” Seongje grabs two off of the hangers, they’re both leather, but one of them has a plastic handle.
“I don’t know.” Sieun might not be able to bash his head in—his imagination is hardly enough—but he doesn’t have to be helpful. Seongje’s going to buy something anyway, he always does.
“C’mon, pick one, newbie.”
The nickname makes him feel sick. “I don’t know, that one I guess.” Sieun purposefully points to the expensive one, it gives him some sense of satisfaction when he rings Seongje up for a more expensive whip even though they’re both basically the same thing.
Once Seongje’s back is facing Sieun, he lets out a sigh of relief, his eyes flutter close against the nauseating fluorescent lighting. Seongje had rattled him so deeply that he had nearly forgotten that someone else was still in the store.
Then a voice, soft, commanding—but not in the way that Seongje’s is, it’s comforting. “That guy was weird, huh?”
-
Park Naeun is pretty.
She has long brown hair and big lips, her doe eyes sparkle when she’s under the sun or the moonlight. She has a mole at the corner of her lips and one on her cheek.
Park Naeun is pretty.
Which is why Suho is confused.
Suho never had much interest in dating before, something that was true in high school—something that’s still very true now.
So, when Park Naeun approaches him after their joint class, with the neckline of her top dipping in the middle of her chest, asking him out to the new restaurant that just opened across the university—Suho says yes.
But Suho isn’t sure why he even says yes in the first place, he doesn’t even know her that well, and she definitely doesn’t know him either.
But she’s pretty. Suho should like her—should like the way she twists her hair around her finger when she’s thinking about something, or the way she messes with the charms hanging off her phone.
Suho’s grandma told him he should start dating soon and find someone that makes him happy. Suho doesn’t know Naeun at all, but he figures he could start to.
He thinks that his grandma only said that in the first place since he spent his high school years working, and could hardly focus on things like that when he had to provide for the two of them. It’s manageable now, ever since he got that promotion, and she’s taken that as a means to nag at him to at least make some friends with his free time.
Suho wants this date to go well, he wants her to text him once they’re both home, to tell him just how much fun she had. Suho wants that fluttery feeling in his chest, he wants to feel like he’s in a movie, he wants to feel what everyone else does.
He’s excited at the prospect, to eat together, to laugh at all of her jokes—even if they’re not that funny—to hold her hand, to kiss her cheek at the end of the night just before he drops her off at home.
Suho’s determined to make it picture perfect.
Which means taking… precaution.
Suho’s positive they’re not going to have sex on their first date, especially since they don’t even know each other that well—Suho doesn’t even know her surname—but it doesn’t hurt.
And it’s not like he understands the etiquette anyway, she could expect something more on Saturday, it’s not one of those things you typically plan, and definitely not one of the things Suho can text and ask about.
His resolve is to go to a sex shop.
It’s far away enough that he probably wouldn’t see anyone from school, wouldn’t need to worry about seeing a classmate—or God forbid a professor.
The only way that Suho can describe the store is: pretty.
It’s simple, the walls are lined with white shelves with different sex toys and different items that Suho doesn’t understand the purpose of.
It feels like a weird type of culture shock, like Suho just walked into a new world. He almost doesn’t process the employee’s soft “welcome”.
There’s one employee helping out a customer, but other than that the shop is empty, it makes it feel weirdly more intimate.
Suho hovers near the employee, who’s still helping some guy—Suho’s in awe of the guy’s confidence because he’s standing way too close to the employee and trying to coax him to help pick between two identical whips.
The employee’s face is scrunched up in a scowl, his right eye is subtly twitching with every word—but either the customer doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care.
He keeps calling the employee “newbie” and his tone is dipped in honey.
He’s flirting.
Suho almost scoffs at how shameless the guy’s being, it’s not like the employee willingly wants to talk to him. He’s getting paid to sell lingerie and random sex toys—he’s not asking to be flirted with.
He helps the customer buy the whip—notably when Suho looks at it he notices it’s one of the expensive ones—and then he glances at Suho curiously when he leaves.
Suho swallows, he hasn’t even talked to the employee yet, but he can already feel his hands getting all clammy.
He debates on leaving, just because he doesn’t seriously need anything, even if something happens on Saturday—Suho can just prevent it from going too far. It’s not like he’d even want to have sex that day, or ever really.
Suho’s not sure he sees her that way—if he will ever see her in that way.
But he’s already there, hovering nearby the employee who’s standing behind the cash register with his eyes closed and his eyebrows knitted together, like he’s composing himself.
Suho clears his throat before approaching him, “that guy was weird, huh?”
The cashier’s eyes fly open, his lips parting instinctively, he stares at Suho a second, like he hadn’t quite understood him.
He’s pretty, Suho couldn’t get a good look at him earlier, but now he can properly trace the outline of his bitten, swollen lips, his doe eyes being directed at him. He’s pretty—not in the way that Naeun is pretty, it’s something else.
Something that Suho can’t place.
Suho finds himself staring for so long he doesn’t hear what Cashier Boy says. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
He’s smiling now, soft, genuine, “he’s a regular, that guy, but he can be a bit intrusive.”
Suho blinks, right, they’re talking about that weirdo. “A bit?”
The boy laughs, Suho can tell there’s still a wall of customer service that he doesn’t want to break down, but he noticeably looks a bit more relaxed. Most likely because he at least knows Suho’s not going to try to flirt with him. “We have a picture of him to warn all of our employees.”
Suho sputters, “are you serious?”
Cashier Boy reaches underneath the counter, coming back up with a grainy photo of the same man that walked out a few minutes ago, he shrugs. “I can’t imagine his house is anything less than a sex dungeon.”
Suho snorts, “oh, I don’t doubt it,” he leans forward to get a closer look at the picture, “but I think it’s funnier to imagine he’s completely single.”
Cashier Boy, completely deadpan, adds, “if he has to flirt with employees at a sex shop, I don’t think you’re far off.”
Suho laughs.
He can see Cashier Boy’s walls cracking, he manages to catch a genuine smile on his face, and the best part is that it’s because of Suho.
Suho enjoys making people laugh, but there’s something immensely satisfying about getting this random employee to stifle a laugh and hide the curl of his lips as he tries to keep up his professionalism, “did you need help with anything?”
Suho pouts, shaking his head, “not really, just, looking.” He doesn’t know how to explain his situation to this poor employee, if he should even try, Suho’s not sure if he’d find it particularly interesting. He’s sure people come in with more interesting situations all the time. Cashier Boy’s probably counting down the minutes till he has to clock out.
“Okay,” this time, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and his exhaustion is cracking through his exterior, “let me know if you need help.”
His voice is soft spoken, deep, but still gentle. Suho could listen to it forever. “I will.”
Suho feels Cashier Boy’s eyes on him when he turns around, just as his gaze starts wandering to a shelf of dildos, but he tears his eyes away almost immediately.
Maybe Suho’s being presumptuous, that Naeun is some freak who’d be into these sorts of things, that she’d actually enjoy being tied up and gagged, or that she’d enjoy control, maybe more than Suho.
Maybe she’s just a sweet girl.
The possibilities don’t exactly make him feel better about it, that he can’t just know how Saturday will go, he can’t make it perfect.
He’s standing in front of the strap-ons when the employee comes by again. “You know, the strap-ons are buy one get one free right now.”
Suho nearly jumps, Cashier Boy is standing next to him, his hands behind his back, he’s looking up at him with those eyes. Suho’s mouth instinctively goes dry. “I-uh, thanks,” the boy nods, then Suho continues, “I think-I think I was just going to buy condoms.”
“Of course, they’re over here, I can ring you up.”
There’s a glass display underneath the cash register, single packets of condoms, lube, and a morning after pill off to the side. Suho points at a random brand of condoms, “that one, please.”
Cashier Boy nods, “just one?” He reaches underneath to open the pane.
Suho wonders how it’s possible for someone to make the topic seem so normal. His face feels so warm he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Just one.” Suho repeats.
He slides the condom across the counter with a smile, “100 won.”
-
Sieun’s already in bed when Juntae comes home.
He’s curled up underneath his weighted blanket, his feet are still throbbing from his shift, and every time he moves, the soreness shoots up his legs.
Sieun’s sleeping problems are practically nonexistent these days, after a shift all he wants to do is be in bed. And he was almost there, his eyes had fluttered close and he could feel his body drifting in and out of consciousness.
What snaps him out of it—as it usually does—is the doorknob jiggling. Sieun knows when Juntae’s shift gets out, but he doesn’t typically get out this early. It’s only 10 when Sieun cranes his neck to check the clock on his nightstand.
A stream of light from the hallway falls across Sieun’s blanket, the door groans with the movement as a shadow twitches across the wall.
Then the sound of soft sobs.
Sieun reaches over blindly to turn his lamp on, catching Juntae trying to shut the door closed quietly—who looks over like a deer caught in headlights.
If the deer also had teartracks on his cheeks. “Juntae-yah,” Sieun murmurs, “what’s wrong?”
A sniffle, a choked cry.
Sieun sighs, “go shower, then you can come sleep in my bed if you want.” Juntae nods, wipes his face with the sleeve of his work uniform and heads to their bathroom.
The cries have quieted down to soft whimpers by the time Juntae leaves the shower, he’s in warm pajamas now, drying his hair off with a small towel. Sieun pats the empty spot on the bed next to him.
“Sieun-ah,” Juntae chokes out, shuffling towards the bed, throwing himself next to Sieun, facing away from him. “Work was awful.”
And Sieun had heard that before, had been through the routine with Juntae enough times that he knew when to pull the fire alarm—but this was different. Juntae looked devastated, the wrinkles in his forehead, sharpened by the light of the lampshade made him look older, like whatever happened had aged him by years.
Sieun places a hand on the small of his back, pats him softly.
He’s not very big on physical affection, but he’s done this for Juntae so many times that he’s gotten used to being pulled into a hug, or just making his presence known with a simple gesture. And Sieun doesn’t say anything, he usually doesn’t. He waits like he always does until Juntae wants to talk.
His lip wobbles again, like every time he thinks about it the wound opens, large and deep. Juntae turns his body towards Sieun, fists his hand into Sieun’s pillow, like he wants to tether himself to something. “I messed up again,” Juntae croaks, “it was my last warning so my manager fired me on the spot.”
Though it might not fall on Juntae—the manager has it out for him. Sieun could see it from the moment their group visited the coffee shop and the manager had given Juntae a look, and his lips pulled into a scowl.
Juntae maybe hadn’t noticed—but maybe he just didn’t want to.
Either way, though Sieun’s been nothing less than supportive, he’s been secretly waiting for Juntae to come home saying he had finally left the place.
But maybe he had prayed wrong, because the last thing he wanted was to pick up the broken pieces of Juntae’s already splintering confidence.
Sieun’s more than positive that Juntae’s a good worker, but he’s not sure that Juntae thinks that anymore.
Even if it was personal, even if it had nothing to do with Juntae’s work ethic—it’s still hard, true rejection.
Juntae had just been told—despite his efforts—that he wasn’t good enough to stay.
Every part of Sieun wishes the world would be kinder to him, because the last thing he wanted to watch was Juntae having to make the walls around his heart thicker. “Juntae-yah,” Sieun says finally, they’re both curled up in Sieun’s too-small bed, Juntae’s still turned towards him, his expression muddled by the hazy, warm light of Sieun’s reading lamp. “Come work at my job.”
It’s impulsive, his friends still don’t even know where he’s really working, they’re still under the impression that it’s some grocery store that isn’t close to the university. Baku keeps trying to bug Sieun and find out which one it is; just so he can go buy his vegetables over there. “At the grocery store?” Juntae asks, his voice sounds wet and small.
“I don’t work at a grocery store,” Sieun says quietly, reaching up to pet Juntae’s hair, brushing away a piece from his forehead, he pauses before finally answering. “I work at a sex shop.”
Sieun had been wanting to tell Juntae for a while, but his stomach churns at the confession anyway. It’s not that Sieun’s ashamed, not really. But he knows his friends, he knows he’s just asking to be teased.
And Sieun knows that the moment he tells any of them they’ll come by often. There’s a limited number of sex shops in Korea as a whole, it won’t take them long to find which one Sieun works at.
Juntae sputters, “a-a sex shop?”
Sieun nods, Juntae’s eyes widen and his mouth is left agape. “Yeah.”
Then Juntae shakes his head, giggles, “sorry, I just didn’t expect that from you.”
Maybe Sieun shouldn’t have said anything.
But then Juntae adds, “but sure, it sounds fun.”
-
Suho doesn’t end up using the condom.
It’s not because he rejects Naeun’s advances—or vice versa—the date just doesn’t go well.
Suho was being weirdly quiet to begin with, Naeun didn’t like the restaurant he chose and she didn’t like that he chewed loudly. And after an agonizing hour of waiting for her uber—since she outright refused for Suho to take her home—the date ended while the sun was barely going down.
Suho should be more embarrassed than he is, but a part of him doesn’t really care.
It’s not like they clicked, it’s not like she entertained his conversation about an anime he liked. Suho doesn’t really understand why she wanted to go out with him in the first place, so he doesn’t dwell on it, doesn’t even feel bad really.
Suho’s not sure what kind of person that makes him, what it says about him.
He half-wants to go back to the sex shop just to tell the cashier the ridiculous story—”hey the condom you sold me is sitting at the bottom of my nightstand right now!”—but Suho’s not sure how funny he would find it. He doesn’t seem like the type to entertain that kind of conversation if he’s not on the clock.
It’s not like they met under normal circumstances, it’s not like he could ask him to be friends.
Because under the thick layer of his customer service, there’s a person underneath it, and Suho thinks he’s a person that he’d enjoy being around.
Or maybe he’s going crazy, maybe all those years of ignoring his need for physical intimacy, to share a meal with someone that isn’t his grandma has made him desperate for the company of a guy that works at a sex shop.
When he inevitably goes back—tells himself it’s definitely not to ask for the cashier’s Instagram—Cashier Boy is restocking lingerie on a hanger, he’s trying to untangle some of the strings in the back of it, and it doesn’t seem to be going well. But he still manages a “welcome” even if he doesn’t look up.
Suho doesn’t know where the sudden confidence comes from when he makes a beeline for the cashier, what makes him want to greet him like they’ve been friends forever—Suho’s really not sure. “You look busy.” Suho comments, starting Cashier Boy into looking up at him.
He squints for a moment, like he recognizes Suho but he doesn’t understand why.
Despite the lack of customers that are typically in the store, Suho still doesn’t expect him to remember him. He’s sure people come in to buy last-minute condoms all the time.
But he doesn’t respond, just furrows his eyebrows, nodding. Suho hesitates, glancing at the lingerie, then the only thing he can say is: “do you need help?”
He shakes his head, “I’m okay,” Cashier Boy mumbles, “did you need help finding anything?” He parrots.
Right. Suho’s technically there for something. “Can I—” Suho’s heart jumps to his throat, he wipes his hands on his jeans—when did they get clammy?
Jesus, just ask.
It’s not like Cashier Boy is a celebrity, he’s just some guy that works at a sex shop. It’s not weird if Suho asks for his Instagram, or if he asks him to grab a meal somewhere.
It’s not like he’s actively flirting with him, it’s not weird.
But all he manages out is: “can I—I was going to buy condoms.”
Suho wants to die. Seriously.
But Cashier Boy just nods, “of course,” he places the lingerie back into the cardboard box it came in, then heads over to the cash register.
Suho follows with his head hung low.
-
Juntae’s good at his job, almost way too fucking good at it.
It makes Sieun wonder just how much the manager at the coffee shop hated him, because every time Sieun watches him interact with a customer the only thing he can think is—wow.
Sieun asks Youngyi if they’re hiring the next time he sees her—the morning after Juntae comes home crying—though she gives him an incredulous look, she nods.
Juntae comes in for an interview the next day, and Sieun tells him not to be nervous because he’s going to get interviewed by their very young manager—who Sieun is pretty sure is a lesbian.
Then Juntae gets hired the week after. It takes approximately another week for him to get used to the place and gain confidence in finding where everything is. Juntae tells him he’s never been to the sex shop before, but Sieun’s not sure how much of that he believes.
He’s considerably a lot more calm after a shift, and he noticeably doesn’t come home crying anymore. And when Sieun sees him talking to a customer he sees the person visibly relax the more Juntae speaks, comfortably and openly talking about all their products.
Sieun knows Juntae’s just like that, but it’s still extremely bizarre hearing “dildo” and “anal beads” come out of his mouth.
Either way, he brings in a lot more sales than Sieun does, so Youngyi’s happy that there’s finally a worker who actually cares about the place.
Sieun’s disinfecting one of the shelves, getting on his tippy toes to get one of the higher ones while Juntae sweeps around him. They’ve been getting paired together for their shifts lately, Sieun’s not complaining.
“I forgot to tell you something when I trained you,” Youngyi had asked him to train Juntae since he knew his way around the store by that point, but also because a comfortable face would help him integrate better—but Sieun also learns that Youngyi just hates training people. “About Seongje.”
It hits Sieun while he’s moving some of the whips around, that Seongje hasn’t been back for a while—or at least not while Juntae’s there, “Seongje?”
Sieun hums, wiping down another shelf. He’d have to remember to show him the picture they have under the register. “He’s a regular, but he’s kinda weird towards the employees so come get me if he’s bothering you, okay?”
The last thing Sieun wants is for Juntae to be harassed. What good is coming to this job if it’s just going to be worse in a different way? “Okay. I will.”
He doesn’t want to think about what Juntae would do when Sieun’s not there.
The job is actually pretty good.
Baku and Gotak do end up finding out though, much to Juntae’s big mouth—Sieun had been mentally preparing for that to happen for a while—and they come by way too often for Sieun’s liking.
It’s usually only when Juntae’s working, or when it’s the both of them, but one time Baku came alone and wanted to buy a lingerie piece. Tried saying that “Gotak would look pretty in it”, just to piss Sieun off.
It works. It always works.
Sieun ends up having to tell Youngyi to not let a “hyperactive German shepherd with a basketball jersey” into the store.
She just laughs in response.
“Do you think Gogo would like this?” Baku’s currently on the second floor with Sieun, they’re in front of all the leashes, the one Baku’s pulled off the hook is a red one with spikes.
“Get out.” Sieun’s lost track of how many times he’s said that to him already.
“Ice princess, c’mon! I’m being serious!”
God—Sieun doesn’t like the image that Baku’s given him. He cringes. “You would know better than I would.”
Baku hums, tugging at the chain, “you’re right, I think I’ll get it.”
Sieun sighs, pressing a thumb into his temple, “okay.”
Though Sieun would never admit it, he doesn’t really mind Baku’s company. Sieun kind of likes that he doesn’t have to keep up his customer service smile, or be nice, really.
Sieun leads Baku back downstairs for Juntae to ring him up, but when he walks over to the register, he notices Juntae’s not there. Though normally he wouldn’t bat an eye, and he doesn’t mind ringing up the customers—he notices that Juntae’s talking to a customer.
Not just any customer, when Sieun gets a little closer, sees the browline glasses and the broad figure—his breath hitches.
Seongje.
Sieun groans, glancing at Baku, “hold on.”
When he gets close enough to hear their conversation, he nearly freezes in his tracks. “Do you use these often?” Seongje asks, holding a package of a dildo in his hand.
Jesus. He's not even trying to hide the harassment anymore.
Juntae blushes, “ah, uh, well—sometimes.” Juntae fidgets with the name tag on his uniform, the one he covered in so many stickers that you can’t even see his name anymore, he’s trying to hide his face by staring down at his shoes.
“Pretty,” Seongje says, leaning down a little to get closer to Juntae’s face, then, “you know—“
“Did you need help with something?” Sieun asks, placing a hand on Juntae’s shoulder, subtly pulling him backwards.
“Oh, Sieun-ah!” Juntae smiles, turning towards him. “This is—“
“Seongje,” Sieun mumbles, “were you going to buy something or just harass the employees again?”
Sieun’s met Seongje a few times since he started just shy of a few months ago, and their relationship is nothing short of… hostile.
It developed naturally the more comfortable Sieun got in the place—the more comfortable he grew around Youngyi—Sieun’s responses got less kind, snippier.
Seongje seemed amused at Sieun’s failed attempts to be nice and knew exactly how to push Sieun’s buttons. Eventually he learned that no reaction or keeping things semi-professional seemed to piss him off the most. “I’ll buy this,” Seongje holds up the box, staring directly at Juntae. “Juntae, would you ring me up?”
Juntae pushes his glasses up his nose, nodding, “oh, of course!”
“No,” Sieun says, his grip on his shoulder tightening, “I’ll do it.”
Seongje tsks, “you heard him, newbie,” he jerks his head towards Juntae, “he wants to do it.”
“Sieun,” Juntae says, carefully pulling his hand off, “I’m okay.”
Sieun considers himself nothing short of protective. Especially when it came to Juntae.
But Juntae’s expression is pleading, like he seriously wants to help Seongje—of all people—so he closes his eyes for a moment, then nods. “Okay,” he whispers, “I’ll go stock, Baku’s going to buy something too.”
“Okay!”
The Condom Guy comes in again only a few days later.
Sieun doesn’t consider any of the customers cute, mostly just because it’s safer to assume they’re all taken—except for Seongje, but it’s Seongje—and that they’re either there with their partner or they’re buying for their partner.
Besides the obvious single creeps who come in to hit on Sieun or buy a pocket pussy—it’s not easy to tell when people are single, especially in a place like this.
But when Condom Guy came in, a cheeky grin and a reassuring smile, seemed genuinely worried about him and Seongje’s interaction—something stirred in Sieun’s chest.
But then he bought a condom, and then came back a few days later to buy another one—and then Sieun remembers the first rule he made for himself when he started.
Despite what type of place this is, it’s not that different from a regular job. It’s not a dating scene.
But Sieun can at least admire cute guys when they come in.
Which means that when Condom Guy walks through the doors again, Sieun lets himself indulge.
He doesn’t even realize that it’s him who’s walked in. Sieun’s in the back, about to bring out a box to set up new promotional posters and decorations, when the bell to the door rings.
“Welcome!” He yells from the small employees room.
Sieun bends over to slip his fingers underneath the bottom, grunting when he pulls it up to his chest. His arms tremble with the weight, sweat starts beading at his hairline, he can’t get a good grip on the cardboard, feels the corners push into his palm.
Sieun moves out of the room, his feet wobble with each step. He presses the box into his lungs, feels the weight pull a breath out of him, he leans back as he walks towards the counter.
The box is so big that Sieun’s turning his head to see where he’s going, and he hasn’t even seen the customer yet.
He’s almost made it when his grip starts slipping even more, and when he tries to grasp at it—his arms give out.
Sieun yelps, reaching out instinctively, but before the box can hit the ground, a different hand steadies it.
Then another one, and then Sieun’s not holding the box at all.
The person holding the box turns to the side, “where do you want this?”
Condom Guy.
Sieun huffs, his shoulders slumping forward, placing his hands on his hips. “Thank you,” he breathes out in relief, “you can put it behind the register.”
Sieun watches him adjust the box in his hands, his arms flexing involuntarily with the movement.
Sieun gulps.
“Did you need help finding something?” Sieun can already sort of guess what he’s there for, but he still decides to humor him.
He’s not a regular just yet. “Oh, yes, actually,” Condom Guy rounds the counter, he smiles, rubs his hands together anxiously, “I was looking for…”
He trails off, turning his head to the side, biting his lip. Sieun pouts, “do you know what it looks like? I can help you find it based on its description.”
“No, it’s not—“ he turns back to look at Sieun, frowns, then he blurts: “I just-I need condoms.”
Sieun resists the urge to laugh. Because this guy, who’s come in a total of three times already for condoms—and has caught him looking at strap-ons once—fidgeting like he’s about to ask Sieun where the fucking blow-up dolls are. “Yeah, I can ring you up.”
He heads behind the register, pulling the pane open and getting out a few packets of the brand Condom Guy likes. “You know,” Sieun says, adding an extra one and a lube packet for the hell of it, “they give these for free at like—colleges, to anybody.”
The shade of red on his face is matching the packaging of the condoms, “well y-yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “but they don’t have the brand I like.”
The corners of Sieun’s lips quirk up, “actually, at the one nearby they do, this exact one.” He waves the condom packet from in between his fingers.
Sieun’s convinced the guy might explode. “Oh,” he laughs, it sounds forced, and when he tries to smile it looks like a cringe. “I guess I haven’t seen it.”
Sieun can’t help himself. “Do you go to school?”
“I do,” his eyes flick to Sieun’s textbook, “I’m assuming you do too?”
Sieun nods.
The guy leans over the counter, crossing his arms atop it, his cologne wafts over Sieun’s nose, “what are you studying?”
God—whoever’s dating him is fucking greedy.
“Biology, what about you?”
“Communications,” he says, then shrugs, “I’m only going because I want to make my grandma proud.”
Sieun’s heart swells—he might be dating someone, might be happily getting pegged every single night but fuck, he’s so sweet.
Sieun’s about to answer, starts leaning forward himself—then the bell to the entrance rings.
He resists the urge to groan, because the spell breaks, and his customer service smile returns. “100 won.” He finally says.
Condom Guy nods, taking out his wallet.
“Have you gotten that guy that always comes in for condoms?” Sieun asks one day, while both Sieun and Juntae are hanging up new displays. Sieun has the stepstool and Juntae is getting on his tippy-toes to hand him things from his spot on the floor. Sieun’s still not sure why Youngyi wanted the two shortest workers to do it.
“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” then he pouts, “are you talking about Seongje? He doesn’t come in exclusively for condoms.”
“No, not Seongje,” then Sieun pauses, “speaking of Seongje—“ God how can Sieun even ask.
Recently, Seongje’s been coming by more often, and not in general, just when Juntae’s working. He’ll breeze past Sieun just to go find where Juntae is, and if he’s not there he leaves.
Without buying anything.
It’s one thing for Seongje to do that—however out of character for him that is—but it’s a whole other thing for Juntae to light up when he sees him walk through the door.
Sieun doesn’t want to assume, but the horrible feeling stirring in his gut is telling him: “Are you two dating?”
“Ah,” Juntae smiles, Sieun watches his face carefully, now blooming in a pink color, “no, but I think I like him, he’s really sweet, Sieun.”
Sieun nearly falls off the stepstool. “Are we talking about the same Seongje?”
“Sieun, he’s really not that bad, he’s thoughtful and really kind in his own way.”
Sieun steps off, now eye-level with Juntae, “are you sick or something? Is he holding you hostage?”
Juntae snorts, “Sieun-ah, I’m fine, I promise.”
It’s not reassuring, all things considered, but he nods anyway. He can’t control Juntae’s decisions—even if they’re questionable at worst. So Sieun sighs, “okay, I trust you,” he knows there’s nothing he can really do about it, despite his every instinct telling him to tell Juntae to call it off, “just be careful.”
“I will, thank you, Sieun-ah,” then he gives him a knowing smile, “so what regular are you talking about then?”
Sieun flushes, his feet moving on his own, folding up the stepstool before heading in the direction of the cash register. “Nothing, forget I said anything.”
“Sieun! C’mon!” Juntae whines.
Condom Guy comes in a lot more frequently after their last meeting, he usually comes in and pretends to look around before approaching Sieun where he’s usually behind the counter with his head buried in his textbooks.
Sieun would have figured that after he told him he could get condoms for free—these same flimsy ones he keeps buying—he wouldn’t have come back.
But he does—over and over.
They’ll fall into this weird ritual where he’ll lean over the counter and ask Sieun how his day is going or what his favorite color is and they’ll talk until another customer walks in.
Then he buys a condom, Sieun always throws in an extra one—a lube packet if he’s feeling particularly giving—then he leaves.
And every time Sieun tries to tell Juntae about it he has no idea who he’s talking about, like Sieun’s imagining the entire fucking thing.
And God—maybe he is.
A handsome stranger who comes by almost as often as Seongje and talks to Sieun—like he’s a person and not a worker—who buys a condom and leaves.
Sieun’s convinced he really is a guardian angel, and maybe he’s the only person who could see him.
One day he had asked Sieun what he liked about his classes, asked him where he went to school, then they talked about professors they didn’t like—but what Sieun didn’t understand was why he was even talking to him in the first place.
He clearly has a girlfriend, or at least someone he’s seeing, considering his frequency and what he comes in to buy. Sieun doesn’t even need to ask to know, one way or another—he’s not exclusively single.
There’s just no way.
But his visits don’t become infrequent, if anything, he starts coming in more. Somehow with new questions to ask, somehow he always has something new to say.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“What kind of music do you usually listen to?”
“What are your hobbies?”
Though Sieun thoroughly enjoys their conversations—definitely more than he should—there’s still something nagging at him.
Why does he keep coming back?
Day after day, without fail, it’s almost a routine.
He becomes a regular and no one knows except Sieun.
He comes in one day and asks Sieun what pen brand he uses—and is dead serious about it—comes in another day just to ask him about the different customers he gets.
“There’s a lot,” Sieun had said, fidgeting with the pencil in his lap. He’s sitting instead of standing, he feels comfortable enough around Condom Guy that he can let down some of his customer service walls. “Most of them just get really shy, some of them are creepy, sometimes it’s just a couple coming in to buy a blindfold.”
Condom Guy leans forward, his voice dropping an octave—“where do I stand?”
And Sieun still can’t tell. “I don’t know,” he answers softly, his eyes hopeful, bright, “maybe looped in with the customers who ask too many questions.”
He snorts, “yeah?”
“Yeah.” But he doesn’t mean it, not really. Sieun wouldn’t be able to loop him into any of them. There’s something about him that keeps drawing Sieun in, because no matter what he tries, he can’t figure him out.
And no matter how good they click, it always ends the same way. “Did you want to buy—“
“A condom?”
“Yeah.”
And a small part of Sieun, the delusional part that lets himself fall into their conversations, sulks. “Oh, yeah.”
It feels like a sick form of torture, the universe toying with him by sending some straight guy that for some reason really enjoys messing with him. Or whatever it is he wants.
But maybe he’s just being polite. Maybe Sieun really is the one just making assumptions.
But then he says things like: “has anyone ever told you that your eyes are really pretty?” And then Sieun’s right back where he started.
Because seriously—who says that?
This guy who is either a serial dater or happily committed keeps coming back—and for what exactly? Sieun’s already told him where to get this condom brand for free, he’s already tried the customer service conversation script—and yet without fail, he comes back.
Sieun finally learns the guy’s name during one of their conversations, though that just makes their interactions much more complicated, Sieun is tempted to just revert back to making their conversations strictly professional, to stop his stomach from doing those stupid flips when he says something that’s just so funny and sweet.
“You don’t wear a name tag,” Condom Guy says, pointing to the part on Sieun’s shirt that should have a name tag. “Is there a reason?”
Sieun has a thing about people knowing his name. It’s not for any particular reason, and he begrudgingly had to wear one when he started, but something about strangers being so comfortable saying his name just doesn’t feel right. Sieun shrugs “I just don’t like to, and my manager doesn’t really care.”
“If I ask for your name would I end up in the creepy customers group?”
“Maybe,” Sieun says, but at the guy’s smile, he continues, “Sieun. Yeon Sieun.”
“Ahn Suho.”
Suho.
Sieun guesses that calling him guardian angel isn’t very far off anymore. Suho speaks up first, “your name is pretty, Sieun.”
And then every wall that Sieun has built, falls down.
It only gets harder and harder to keep his feelings tucked away, but then reminds himself that it’s just a fucking customer that comes in every few days to buy a condom, he’s not the love of Sieun’s life.
He probably already has the love of his life wrapped around his finger, he’s just nice and wants to build some weird connection with Sieun.
But the more frequent that their interactions become, the less he starts to believe that.
“Have you ever dated someone?” Suho asks one day, he’s wearing this red windbreaker that frames him nicely, and his hands are tucked into the pockets of it.
Sieun swallows. He’s not sure why that’s something he’d need to know. “No, why?”
Suho smiles, a cheeky one, “just curious.”
Because that’s always his answer when Sieun asks that: just curious.
The delusive part of Sieun wants to believe it’s not just morbid curiosity, part of him wants to believe that he could be wanted in that way, that Suho’s not dating anyone, that all their interactions carry something deeper than just polite conversation.
But Sieun can’t crawl inside his head, he doesn’t know why Suho looks at him like that sometimes and then will end the conversation by asking to buy a condom.
So, Sieun continues trying, continues burying his feelings down in the depths of his heart in hopes that it’ll die there.
-
Suho is pretty sure it’s more than just a morbid fascination and the desire to be friends with the worker at the sex shop he frequents.
He thinks it’s something else when he had walked in a few weeks ago to find said Cashier Boy—who Suho now recognizes as Yeon Sieun—carrying a too-heavy box and when Suho had grabbed it for him, he made this little noise of pure relief, his doe eyes directed right at him.
God—anytime he looked at him like that, Suho could kind of understand why their regulars came in just to flirt with him.
But as far as Suho knows, Suho’s not… gay.
Then again, he’d never really had the chance to think about it. He spent his high school years focusing on making ends meet and not flunking out at the same time—relationships were the last thing on his mind.
Now, when he can worry a little less and actually explore his options, he just kind of assumed he knew what he wanted.
But now Sieun is here, now Suho keeps making up excuses just to see him and he’s also accruing an insane amount of condoms that he hasn’t used, not even once.
To make things worse, he later finds out, when looking at the packaging one day, that condoms fucking expire.
He’s probably looking at 30 different condoms in the drawer to his nightstand that are untouched since the moment he brought them home.
Suho thinks about it, wonders if he should just bite the bullet and go find someone to bring home at some club nearby, but the truth is—he doesn’t want just anyone.
He wants to know their name, wants to know what they like to do for fun, he wants to laugh with them, to cry, to-to—
God, the only person he can think about is Sieun.
He must be going insane—Suho doesn’t even know him that well, barely learned his name last week, but he replays their conversations like they’re his favorite memories.
Suho keeps going back like he could give him the answers he’s looking for, like Sieun could make sense of all the jumbled thoughts in Suho’s brain, like only he could untangle them.
But all things considered—the only person who could really figure it out is Suho.
So, Suho goes to the shop anyway, keeps going, because it’s the only way he can think to understand his feelings towards Sieun, that when his heart feels all warm just because he manages to make him laugh—it must mean something.
He’s even managed to learn his schedule over the sheer amount of times he’s gone by, that Sieun mostly works on Mondays, Wednesdays and then the weekend. Except Saturdays—he usually doesn’t work Saturdays.
When Suho comes in and he doesn’t find the cute worker, he usually walks right out after pretending to search.
But right now, it’s Sunday, and he’s standing in front of the cash register where Sieun has his notebook out, scribbling something down quickly, he barely acknowledges the sound of the door, let alone the footsteps that approach him. “Sieun,” Suho tries the name out, it feels nice on his tongue, “how’s studying going?”
Sieun finally looks up, and Suho finally notices the AirPods in his ears. He plucks one of them out, “Suho,” he says, his pen drops from his hand, but he doesn’t close his textbook. “It’s fine, I’m just worried about finals.”
Suho whistles, “you’ll do well, you’re smart.” He’d learned a few weeks ago that Sieun’s hobby is studying. And his smarts don’t just reflect in his grades—which Suho’s sure are perfect—but in the random topics that Suho brings up.
Just a few days ago Suho mentioned the aquarium, then Sieun went on a ten-minute documentary-style information dump about jellyfish and sharks.
Suho caught onto every word, but then Sieun flushed, asked him if he wanted to buy a condom, and promptly ended their conversation.
That was the first time the urge to kiss him was so strong that Suho thought he would explode.
Currently, Sieun’s smiling at him, his features turn all soft as he takes out his other AirPod. “Thank you.”
It’s that—the smile, the way he talks that makes Suho suddenly lose his own ability to talk like a normal person.
Every time he comes in he tells himself it’ll be the day that he asks for his Instagram, to go out for some drinks—anything.
But then Sieun looks at him and his resolve crumbles.
Then the only thing he can think to ask is if he could get a condom for fucks sake. “So,” Suho starts, tucking his hands in his pockets, “uh, I was going to ask.”
Sieun nods, silently coaxing him to continue.
Suho avoids his gaze, glancing at the different shelves and toys that they have. He’s practically memorized where everything is without even wanting to.
Suho points towards one of the displays, the one with the inhumanely large dildos, “how many people actually come in to buy that?”
Sieun snorts, flipping a page, “you’d be surprised,” then he looks up, “were you in the market for one?”
Suho knows he’s teasing him, there’s a smug smile pulling at Sieun’s lips. Suho just shakes his head, “actually, I came in for something else.”
This is it, Suho can do this.
Just ask.
“Were you going to get a condom?” Sieun asks, his gaze already directed back to his notes.
Suho’s stomach drops, shit, shit. “Oh, uh, yeah I guess—”
With his head still buried in his textbook, he points a little past Suho. "You know,” he starts, “you always come in and buy condoms—why don't you just buy that box?"
Suho blinks, following Sieun’s finger with his eyes, which is now directed towards the huge box on the shelf nearby.
100 condoms. He just suggested Suho buy a pack of 100 condoms.
Somehow, over the dozens of times he’s visited the place—that’s not a box he’d ever seen before.
It’s a comical amount of condoms, and Suho definitely does not need it considering how many condoms he already has in his nightstand that have been untouched from the moment he came home with them.
But, of course, he says: “oh, yeah, I guess.”
Suho wonders if a fall from the second-floor would be enough to kill him. Seriously.
Which is how he finds himself taking a bag—that’s hiding a box of 100 condoms—all the way back to his apartment.
-
“Is that the regular you were talking about?”
Juntae’s voice breaks Sieun’s focus, he replaces Suho’s position by sliding into the spot in front of Sieun. Gestures to the door Suho just walked out of. “Yes.” Sieun mumbles, flipping a page.
“He’s cute,” Juntae comments, “aren’t you going to hit that?”
Sieun cringes, looking up at him, “you need to stop hanging out with Seongje.”
They’ve been dating officially for a few weeks now, and though Sieun would never openly admit it—especially not to Seongje—he’s actually proud of the way that Juntae’s tone has a sharp edge to it now. Especially to the people who deserve it. Not that Seongje’s helped him grow thicker skin, just that he’s given Juntae much-needed venom for his voice.
“He’s really not that bad, and we’ve already—“ Juntae pushes his glasses up his nose, suddenly quiet.
“Juntae,” Sieun groans, “don’t tell me you two are—“ God, he doesn’t even want to say it.
“Sieun—“
“No, no—it’s fine, he just better be treating you well.” It’s still an odd thing, thinking about his best friend with someone like Seongje. Every part of Sieun wants to tell him how bad of an idea it is—like a fundamentally bad idea—but he seems happy, and he’s never been able to talk Juntae out of anything before. “I definitely don’t want to hear about your sex life.”
Juntae’s laugh has an edge to it.
Juntae tells Baku and Gotak about Sieun’s “Condom Guy Crush”—Sieun tries to tell them Suho’s name multiple times—the next time they all see each other.
“What is it about the sex shop and eligible bachelors?” Gotak asks, they’re all in Sieun and Juntae’s dorm, Baku is laying on the carpet and tossing a rubber ball in the air and Gotak’s sitting on Sieun’s bed.
“Shut up,” Sieun mumbles, he’s sitting next to Gotak with his computer open, “I think he’s already dating someone already.”
“What makes you say that?” Baku asks. The ball hits the ceiling with a light thud.
Sieun shrugs, “maybe it’s the fact he’s always buying condoms?”
“So? He might just shred.” Baku adds.
“That isn’t exactly a good thing.” Juntae’s sitting by Sieun’s desk when he speaks up.
“Wasn’t Seongje like that?” Gotak says.
Juntae hums, “surprisingly not really, not like that.”
Sieun sighs, smoothing the wrinkle in between his eyebrows, “it doesn't really matter how I feel about him because I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.”
And maybe that’s a good thing, maybe this way Sieun can get over the stupid obsession he’s created for a guy that he doesn’t even know that well. Just knowing what his favorite color is—red—or his favorite hobby—driving around on his motorbike—isn’t enough for Sieun to be devastated if he doesn’t see him for a while. Or ever, for that matter.
A beat of silence. Then Juntae speaks up again, “you offered him the 100 condom pack didn’t you?”
Sieun groans.
Suho comes back again.
Almost about a week later too, which is horrifying considering just how many condoms he’s probably already gone through.
And Sieun doesn’t consider himself judgmental, especially when it comes to customers that come in. Most of them just want to get whatever they need and leave, it’s not really Sieun’s place to say anything—even if someone is seriously buying a blow-up sex doll.
But it is a little ridiculous.
He approaches Sieun, who’s currently checking the inventory for the products—a task that Youngyi didn’t want to do—and counting off the different items under his breath. “Sieun,” Suho says, his hands are tucked behind his back, he looks more fidgety than usual. “How were finals?”
“They were fine,” Sieun had thankfully passed all of them, “how were yours?”
“Good, surprisingly,” he shrugs, “so, I wanted to ask—”
Sieun already knows where this is going, and he cannot stop himself when he asks: “Did you go through that entire box already?”
He blinks, “what?” Then when it dawns on him his lips form a small pout, he shakes his head, “no, no, I didn’t, it’s not about that.”
Sieun tilts his head, turning towards him.
“I just,” he sets his gaze onto Sieun, hesitating, holding his breath. “I actually came in to ask you something.”
Sieun blinks. “What is it?” He briefly wonders if he’s gained enough confidence to ask about the strap-ons he looked at once.
Suho scratches the back of his head, “I was wondering if you wanted to go get a drink together sometime? Or like, karaoke or something, I don’t know, I’m not picky, it’s up to you really—”
Sieun knows that this is what he’s been daydreaming about on his breaks for months now, that when a customer walks through the door he feels his stomach drop when it’s not Suho, that he’s more than on one occasion imagined what it would feel like for this to happen.
But not like this.
Not with the way Suho is beyond their conversations, not with the terrifying reality that Suho might not actually be this nice. That maybe—he just wants one thing.
“I don’t want to.” Sieun says quietly, his throat betraying him.
The part of Sieun that had been waiting for this, that had wanted this is happy, of course it is.
But it was a stupid fantasy anyway, it wasn’t actually going to happen, Sieun is content in his little bubble. As fun as his conversations with Suho are, Sieun can’t ignore what he already knows about Suho. “Oh, I’m sorry are you–?”
“I’m not dating anyone,” Sieun clarifies, swallowing the lump in his throat, “but I don’t want to go on a date with you.” The words sting like poison.
“Oh,” Suho mumbles, “I’m sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s not that—”
Suho smiles, the dimply one that Sieun likes, but it doesn’t reach his eyes like it usually does. “I’ll get going.”
Juntae lets out an earth shattering screech. “Wait—you said no?”
“Does Seongje really need to be here for this conversation?”
Sieun’s taking his bag out of his locker, Juntae’s idling nearby waiting for Sieun to clock out for the shift change. The only problem is Seongje is—for some reason—waiting outside, leaning against the doorframe. Juntae turns towards him, “it’s fine, just pretend he’s not here.”
Sieun rolls his eyes, shutting his locker. “Easier said than done.”
“You should’ve fucking said yes, newbie.” Seongje comments.
Sieun huffs. He’s promised Juntae that he would at least try to be nice to Seongje, but considering who Seongje is it’s been difficult to adjust to. “I’ve been here longer than Juntae, why do you still call me that?”
Seongje shrugs.
“Stop avoiding the topic,” Juntae whines, “you should’ve said yes, why didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to be a notch on his bedpost,” Sieun’s grip on the strap to his bag tightens, “a guy that goes through condoms that fast isn’t someone I want to try anything with.”
Juntae frowns, “Sieun, you barely know the guy, you don’t know what he’s using the condoms for,” he shrugs, “maybe he’s, like, a sex-ed instructor.”
“Maybe he’s got a friend who’s secretly a freak.” Seongje adds.
Juntae giggles, but Sieun doesn’t really find it funny.
“First of all, I know he’s not a sex-ed instructor, and even if he was, he wouldn’t have to buy his own condoms,” he frowns, “and I know he’s not buying them for someone else, why would he do that?”
“I just think it wouldn’t hurt, Sieun-ah.” Juntae mumbles, “if he comes back, you should go out with him, maybe it won’t go well, but what if it does?”
Sieun doesn’t want to imagine that saying yes and going on said date would change his perspective on him, but he can’t deny that Juntae’s a little right.
Because yes, he doesn’t technically lose anything by going on a date with him, he might even get a free meal out of it.
So Sieun sighs, nodding.
“I didn’t think I’d fall for someone like Seongje.” Juntae adds, looking up at his boyfriend—who winks at him in response.
Sieun shudders, resists the urge to gag.
Juntae continues, “life just surprises you sometimes.”
Then he huffs, “okay, okay, I’ll think about it.”
Suho doesn’t come back for a long time.
To be more specific, it’s been two weeks—not that Sieun’s counting, not really.
Juntae’s advice had been ruminating in his head for a while, like a broken record every time he thought about Suho, Juntae’s words would echo, too.
No, it wouldn’t hurt to go on one date with him. But that’s hard to do considering Sieun doesn’t have any way to contact him and ask him out himself.
He’s not sure he even wants to, every time he thinks about it he just thinks about the different faceless people that Suho has sex with every day.
But there’s nothing he can do about it anyway, Suho’s not going to come back for a long time, maybe ever.
“Do you want to go out after work? There’s some new restaurant Seongje wanted to try.” Juntae asks. They’re set to close the store that day, since it’s the weekend there’s a steady stream of people that have been coming in all day.
Sieun bites his tongue, “just the three of us?”
“No, of course not,” he’s wearing a knowing smile, “I asked Baku and Tak to come too.”
“Then, fine.” Sieun usually prefers going straight home, but with everyone’s hectic schedules clashing against eachother’s—especially considering Sieun’s the only single one in the group now—he hasn’t seen all of them in a long time.
Juntae cheers, grabbing Sieun’s wrist, “I’m so excited!”
The shift goes by quickly, all things considered, and even Sieun is buzzing with excitement at the prospect of being able to wind down with everyone.
After closing up, Sieun tucks his key in his pocket and heads over to the restaurant with Juntae.
They all promised to meet each other at the place, and that thankfully included Seongje too, so it was just the two of them and the crisp air of January.
“That regular never came back, did he?”
Sieun focuses on the sound of their feet hitting the pavement with every step, and tries not to think about… everything. Sieun shrugs noncommittedly. “Not that I saw.”
“That’s too bad.” Juntae mumbles.
“It’s fine, it’s probably for the best.”
“I disagree.” Juntae lets out a shaky breath, a hint of frustration written all over his face. It looks like he’s more upset about it than Sieun is.
But the truth is, with every passing day, he sort of misses Suho’s company.
Every time his shift is too long and his mind drifts, when his mind is all mush and he can’t study—Suho infiltrates his mind again, again.
But it’s over now. Sieun knows nothing about him, just that they go to the same school and Suho was raised by his grandma—and that he definitely sleeps around.
So he does the only thing he can do, he pushes forward.
Sieun ignores the way his brain keeps reminding him of Suho, ignores the pang in his chest when someone buys a condom, when someone walks in and it’s not him.
The restaurant is small, and it’s near the dorms—Sieun’s not sure how they haven’t been here before, it’s packed and people seem to be enjoying the food at their tables.
Jajjangmyeon, tteokbokki, fancy plated kimbap—a typical Korean restaurant, except this one is offering university students discounts with the show of their ID.
Baku and Gotak are sitting at a table when they enter, it looks like they’ve been staring at the door for a while because when Sieun and Juntae walk through, they immediately light up. “Sieun! Juntae! You made it!”
Seongje’s next to them, but he doesn’t seem to be making conversation, he’s leaning back in his chair watching his phone closely. At the sound of the cheers he looks up and smirks lazily when Juntae comes by to sit next to him.
Sieun decides to sit away from the two of them.
“We already ordered the drinks if that’s okay,” Baku comments from next to him, he elbows Sieun, “we just got you water.”
“Thank you.”
“Five waters and one beer,” the waiter calls, a man rounding the corner with a thin plate holding all the glasses.
The voice sounds familiar, the smooth, comforting voice of—
“Oh, Sieun.”
Suho.
He looks different in a uniform like this, less relaxed, but there’s still parts of him that Sieun can pick out through his own customer service voice. Suho diverts his gaze to the floor. “I’ll-uh—I’ll get you guys another waiter.” He mumbles.
He places the drinks down, then turns around before Sieun can say anything more, retreating into the kitchen.
There’s a beat of silence, then, “what the hell are you doing?”
Sieun blinks at the voice from across the table, coming from Juntae’s side.
He sounds pissed. “What are you talking about?” Sieun asks.
“He’s like 10 feet away, go ask him out!”
Sieun blinks, “what? No, are you crazy? He’s working.”
“Weren’t you working when he asked you out?” Gotak mumbles around his straw.
“How do you even know about that?” Sieun mumbles.
His eyes flick towards Juntae.
Sieun sighs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to bother him.”
“Sieun, c’mon! I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, you guys are like, friends.”
“Hardly.”
Seongje drapes an arm across Juntae’s shoulders, “Just man up, newbie.”
Sieun’s about to tell them to drop it when the new waiter approaches their table. And he’s about to speak up and ask for their order when Baku answers first. “Can we get the old waiter back, actually? My friend here has something to say to him.”
Sieun leans towards him, dropping his voice to a whisper, “what the hell are you doing?”
God, Sieun needs new friends.
The waiter beams, “oh, of course!”
Before Sieun can protest, he leaves.
Sieun huffs, “are you insane? I don’t have anything to say to Suho.”
“Yes, you do,” Baku says, “look he’s coming over.” He slaps Sieun’s back, enough to push him forward in his chair.
And sure enough, Suho is walking over again, he’s adjusting his uniform and brushing off something on his apron. “Sieun?” He asks softly, his eyebrows furrowed.
Sieun resists the urge to groan, then stands on wobbly legs, “I need to talk to you.”
Suho’s eyes widen, but he nods, then glances at Sieun’s friends briefly, “maybe somewhere more private.”
They end up in the corridor outside the bathrooms, thankfully there’s not many people coming in and out, and when there is they move off to the corner. “So,” Suho starts, “what did you want to talk about?”
Sieun sighs, “I wanted to say yes.”
Suho’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”
Sieun continues, a little softer, “to the date, to going with you.”
Suho blinks, his mouth opens, then closes again, then finally, “what changed your mind?”
Sieun shrugs, “it doesn’t hurt, does it?” He starts, “to give you a chance.”
It’s the best explanation he can give, and at the very least this will finally erase the small voice in his head that always pops up when he thinks about Suho, the one repeating: “what if?” Good or bad—Sieun will get his answer.
Suho smiles, it’s cheeky and dimply, "No, it doesn’t,” he tucks his hands in his apron, “I’d love to take you out somewhere.”
“Okay, then, pick me up on Saturday.”
“I will.”
-
Suho is terrified.
This is not like the date Suho had with Naeun, the one he had nearly forgotten about and had thrown on whatever was in his closet—this is Sieun.
When he had asked him out, when things finally clicked that maybe Sieun’s a little more special than just some guy that Suho enjoys talking to, Suho felt like he could finally breathe.
Things just… clicked.
Suddenly, rejecting girls and being “too busy” in high school to date properly—finally made sense.
And now, he’s going on his first official date—one that he actually wants to see the outcome of—and his palms are getting all sweaty and he’s tried on at least a million different shirts, ones that have all found themselves strewn across his floor.
He decides on something simple, nothing too fancy, but not a shirt with a hole in the back of it.
Then he picks Sieun up from his apartment.
He’s had to wipe his hands across his pants a million times, and the handles to his motorbike definitely have a thin layer of his sweat—especially when Sieun’s hands find their way to his hips, tugging at the jacket there.
The feeling of Sieun touching Suho, anywhere, sends sparks up his spine.
Suho ends up taking Sieun to a restaurant, he still doesn’t really understand date etiquette, but he knows a meal is never a bad first choice. “I know you told me already, but is there really no reason you changed your mind?”
Suho finds himself asking, they’re already digging into their meals, Sieun gets bulgogi with rice, Suho gets tteokbokki and there’s a plate of kimbap in between them. Sieun’s chewing on a bit of rice before he speaks up, his cheeks big and round, “not really, but my friend helped convince me.”
“Really?”
Sieun shrugs, swallowing, “I don’t know you that well, there’s no reason to not try.”
Suho smiles, reaching over for a kimbap, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Sieun places his chopsticks down, then, softly, while Suho’s still chewing on his piece of kimbap, “do you usually have sex on your first date?”
Suho chokes.
He chokes so bad that he’s hitting at his chest and attempting to drink water, only to end up having another coughing fit moments later.
“Are you okay?”
Suho nods, “what did you mean by that? About the sex?” His voice comes out all raspy and pathetic.
Sieun pouts, “I just meant, I figured you have a lot of sex, don’t you? That’s why you come in to buy condoms all the time?”
Oh.
Shit.
In his sad attempts at trying to ask out Sieun, he had neglected to consider the opinion that Sieun was probably forming about Suho in the months that they’ve known each other.
Not only did Suho come across as a fuckboy, but when he finally asked Sieun out he probably thought—”what? No, no, I don’t–”
Suho doesn’t know how to tell him the actual truth, one that wouldn’t make him come across as a freak, or one that won’t make him die of embarrassment. But Sieun’s looking at him curiously, pouting, “you don’t what?”
He can’t exactly say he doesn’t have sex either. “Just that I’m not-I’m not like that.”
Sieun visibly relaxes, he’s chewing thoughtfully at a piece of rice, and hides a smile when he looks down.
The sun is barely going down when they leave the restaurant, Suho feels all warm and full, so they end up just walking around the city. The air is getting colder as night falls.
Suho wants to grab Sieun’s hand so fucking bad.
His hand keeps twitching and leaning towards him, sometimes he’ll catch himself grabbing his shoulder to move him out of the way when he gets too close to the road, but other than that he keeps his distance. “You can hold my hand.” Sieun finally says, turning to look at him.
Suho instinctively retracts, “what?”
“What? You think I can’t tell?”
Suho feels his cheeks burn, then he leans forward, weaving his fingers through Sieun’s. Despite the cold air, his hand feels warm. “Thank you.”
Sieun squeezes his hand, “for what?”
“For saying yes,” Suho answers, swinging their hands together, “I’m really glad you did.”
It’s this, Suho realizes, when Sieun’s looking at him with his cheeks and nose red from the cold, that this is what it’s supposed to feel like.
-
Sieun doesn’t really expect much—he makes sure not to have any sort of expectations for his own sake—and he’s never really been on a date so he doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but he’s pretty sure it goes well.
Suho takes him to a restaurant—not the one he works at—and then they walk around the city together afterwards. And Suho hasn’t done or said anything that’s made Sieun uncomfortable, he’s practically shaking with the nerves of the date though, and Sieun has to remind him with a simple grab of his hand that he’s not made of glass.
But despite what Suho says at the restaurant, Sieun can’t help but wonder if this is how Suho gets into everyone’s pants, by taking them to a nice restaurant and then making them swoon with the deep conversation.
They’re walking alongside each other not looking at anything in particular besides the night sky and the different cars that pass by, the headlights illuminating them for a moment. “Why did you want to ask me out anyway? We barely know each other.” Sieun asks suddenly, hand still gripping onto Suho’s. There’s a thin layer of sweat from Suho’s hand, but Sieun finds that he doesn’t mind.
Suho shrugs, “even I don’t really know,” he mumbles, looking at his feet, “I don’t usually like guys, well I haven’t had the chance to really think about it, I guess.”
Sieun holds his breath.
“I was so busy in high school with work and keeping me and my grandma afloat I never really thought about things like that,” when he lets out a breath it comes out as a white cloud, “then I saw you and things just sort of clicked.”
Sieun feels his mouth go dry, he stops in his tracks, pulling Suho to do the same, “is–do you still think it was the right choice?”
“What is?” Suho’s in front of him now, his other hand reaches for Sieun’s.
“To ask me out, to-to—”
“Of course it is,” Suho smiles, “I’ve had a lot of fun.”
Suho hesitates before asking, “have you?”
“I have.” Sieun mumbles, his eyes darting to Suho’s lips.
God. He’s so sweet.
Sieun thought that the date would only cement the idea that he already had, the one that said that Suho’s a fuckboy, the one that said that Suho’s just trying to get in his pants, but they’re standing there in the middle of the sidewalk and Suho hasn’t tried one move on him.
But maybe this is how he does it too, by making Sieun want. “I want—”
Sieun steps closer. The moment it dawns onto Suho what he wants, his eyes widen, and his grip on Sieun’s fingers is nearly deadly. “Sieun—” Suho whispers, his lips parting.
Fuck it.
Sieun leans up to kiss him.
Suddenly everything that he’s been unsure about, everything that he’s been afraid about—melts away.
God—who even cares about the condom thing anymore, maybe Seongje was right, Suho was just buying them for a friend, but a part of Sieun doesn’t even care if Suho really does do this a lot because he’s such a good kisser and Sieun’s melting into it and Suho’s hands feel nice on his hips and fuck.
He pulls away, doesn’t even think twice about it, “take me back to your place.” Sieun mumbles against Suho’s lips.
No, Sieun didn’t exactly plan it.
In fact, the last thing that Sieun wanted was to have sex. He promised himself not to fall into such a cliche, into such a stereotypical trap that only someone who does this a lot would know how to set up—talking about their feelings and then being discarded once they had sex.
But a part of Sieun doesn’t even care anymore, he’s at his place before he realizes it.
Sieun convinces himself that Suho hypnotized him and he blacked out until he was standing in front of Suho’s place, it’s the only thing that makes sense, mostly because this is not something he would do, he would not have sex on the first date.
But shit, maybe Sieun was a little too curious.
Maybe he wanted to know why he bought so many condoms, why he went through them so quickly, what he bought them for—what is Suho like underneath all of the kindness?
Maybe deep down Sieun wanted to know how good he was. Because there was no doubt in Sieun’s mind that he’s at least somewhat experienced, that he would know how to make someone feel good.
But maybe this’ll be the last time they see each other, maybe Suho will just leave this at a perfect night.
Either way, Sieun wants to know.
Suho’s place is homey, it’s littered in different knickknacks and old paintings. Sieun’s reminded that he still lives with his grandma and he’s about to tell him something about it, but then Suho says, breathless, “my grandma isn’t home, so it’s just—”
“Us.” Sieun finishes.
“Yeah.”
Sieun’s heart jumps to his throat.
Then Suho reaches forward, kissing him, his hand curling around the back of Sieun’s neck, Sieun’s hands roaming to Suho’s shirt, his jacket, trying to get closer. Sieun’s moaning into his mouth, and then their movements are getting sloppy, desperate.
Before Sieun knows it, Suho’s body is hovering over Sieun’s on the bed, completely enveloping him, he’s kissing Sieun with vigor, like he might slip away, there’s nothing chaste about the way he holds him, the way he licks and bites at Sieun’s bottom lip. “Suho,” Sieun moans, his hands coming up to Suho’s chest, “wait.”
Suho pulls away, his eyes half-lidded, “what is it? Am I not-did you want to stop?”
And his gaze, so hopeful and excited—it makes something warm form in Sieun’s chest.
“No,” Sieun breathes, “you’re doing good.”
Suho brightens, his cheeks dimpling, “yeah?”
Sieun nods, chasing Suho’s lips, pulling him back down.
Sieun’s fingers curl around his bicep, pushing him towards the bed. Sieun crawls over him, flipping their positions, and pressing his lips to his jaw, moving down to his neck. Sieun doesn’t consider himself very experienced, but he can feel every inch of Suho’s body trembling underneath his touch, and he, for a second, gets to feel what it’s like to turn someone into putty. “Relax,” Sieun mumbles, mouthing at the expanse of his throat. “Make me feel good, you can do it.”
“Y-yeah,” Suho nods furiously, “I want to.” His hand comes up to the back of Sieun’s head, fingers curling into the hair, tugging gently when Sieun bites down on a certain spot. Suho groans, his other hand slowly trailing to the hem of Sieun’s hoodie. “Can I—”
Sieun doesn’t respond, tugging the piece of fabric off, then he starts to pull at Suho’s shirt, “off.”
And Suho listens, like an excited puppy, still unsure and hesitating, but he wants.
Sieun presses a kiss on his chest, pulling back for a moment just to look at him properly. “What is it?” Suho nearly whines, his hand coming up to Sieun’s cheek, he’s already breathless, already flushed and he keeps twitching underneath Sieun’s hips, begging for friction.
“You’re just–” Sieun swallows, his fingers grazing over his stomach. His abs aren’t extremely defined, but his muscles flex with every movement and Sieun can’t help but wonder just how much weight he can carry, if he could throw Sieun around like a ragdoll. Suho’s stomach contracts under his touch, sending a shiver throughout his body. “You’re in shape.” Sieun says instead.
Suho nods, “my stamina’s really high.”
God—Sieun nearly comes on the spot.
His hips instinctively jerk forwards, right against Suho’s clothed cock, then he gasps. “Fuck—I can feel—you’re so big—“
Shit, Sieun can see why so many people want him. He’s addicting, and he hasn’t even, he hasn’t even—
Suho groans, his hands dipping over Sieun’s ass, “please, Sieun-ah—“
Sieun moans, grinding down harder, pleased with the feeling of Suho growing underneath him. “Feels so good.” Sieun whimpers, “I want it so bad.”
“Yeah?” Suho breathes, reaching for the front of Sieun’s jeans, “take them off, baby.”
Sieun doesn’t consider himself one to beg, doesn’t consider himself one to give up control, especially like this, but something about Suho, something about the way he’s looking at him so desperately, makes him feel like it’ll be different this time. Like Suho’s not going to let him leave unless Sieun gets off too.
Sieun shifts to kick off his jeans, then tugs at Suho’s, looking up at him through his lashes for permission. Suho nods quickly, “yeah, please.”
Sieun can see the outline of his hard cock through his boxers, there’s a clear wet patch at the front of it. Pride and arousal swirls in his stomach at the sight.
Sieun dips down, mouthing at the head through the thin fabric, watching Suho throw his head back onto the pillow with a groan, “fuck, Sieun, please, c’mon.” Sieun wraps his fingers around his cock, pulling the fabric taut against him. “Hah—c’mon, st-stop teasing.”
Sieun hums, finally pulling his boxers down, then hesitating before taking off his own. “You’re so pretty like this.” Suho murmurs, his hand resting on Sieun’s hip, there’s a red tint extending from Suho’s cheeks all the way to his chest.
Sieun scoffs, “what are you talking about?”
Suho’s soft smile doesn’t disappear, but his fingers start tracing small circles at his hip, “I can tell you’re embarrassed.”
“Shut up.” But it’s true, because when Suho looks at him or makes those groans that make Sieun’s cock twitch—his focus wavers. He tries to move past it, tears his eyes away and mumbles, “where’s your lube?”
Suho pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, “top drawer.”
When Sieun moves over to pull the drawer out, the first thing he sees is chapstick and an old phone, but the next thing—and the most interesting—is the flood of different condoms.
All of the ones that Suho had bought.
Sieun pulls out a few with his hand, “you didn’t use any of them?” And when he turns back to Suho his head is tucked in his elbow.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Suho groans, removing his arm from across his face, “I just wanted a reason to talk to you.”
Then it finally clicks.
Suho’s a virgin.
Despite everything that Sieun thought about him—it’s all wrong.
Suho is a virgin.
Then everything makes sense, the awkwardness, the sweaty palms, the hesitance—it wasn’t some weird act that he was putting on, Suho genuinely had no idea what he was doing.
“So you bought a bunch of condoms for no reason?” Sieun snorts, sifting through the different packets for lube, “you could’ve just talked to me.”
“You didn’t strike me as the type to entertain conversation without a sale.”
Sieun hums, grabbing a condom and the lube, shutting the drawer close, he leans down, kissing Suho. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have,” then he tears open the lube packet, “but you know condoms expire right?”
Suho groans, “don’t remind me.”
“We’ll just have to use them all before then.” Sieun says, squirting the cold liquid on his fingers.
Suho instinctively bucks his hips upward. “Shit, you’re so hot.”
Sieun reaches behind himself to press a finger against his rim. He hasn’t done it in a while so he’s still tight. He involuntarily whimpers when he slowly thrusts his finger inside until it finally reaches his knuckle.
“Can I please,” Suho asks, reaching for one of Sieun’s thighs, gripping it tightly, “fuck, you look so good.”
Sieun moans, pressing another finger alongside the first one, slowly inserting it, wincing at the intrusion. It’s an uncomfortable angle, and his fingers don’t exactly reach that deep, not like Suho’s would. Sieun whines at the thought, letting his head loll backwards, he speeds up, spreading himself open, trying to reach the spot buried inside him. His breathing is getting all ragged, he can see the precum dropping from his cock.
“Please, Sieun, let me—” Suho hesitantly reaches forward to wrap his fingers around Sieun’s cock.
Sieun gasps, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward into his grip, “fuck—just like that.” It tapers off into a whine when he presses a third finger inside, but it’s not enough.
He can’t even reach his prostate from this angle, and his fingers are too slim to stretch himself properly, and Suho’s teasing, slowly stroking Sieun from base to tip at an agonizing pace.
Sieun’s so focused he doesn’t notice Suho slicking up his own fingers, pulling Sieun’s away by his wrist to press his own fingers inside, “shit—Suho—”
His fingers, long and thick, stretching him out, fucking him exactly how he imagined. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”
“Do it then, c’mon, fuck me.” Sieun says, breathless, slurring his words. He wonders what he looks like from Suho’s angle, wrecked and flushed, cock hard and dripping.
Then Sieun tears open the condom packet, pumping Suho’s cock before rolling it down the shaft. “You know what you’re doing, fuck.” Suho breathes, his grip on Sieun is nearly bruising him.
Sieun hums, lifting himself and lining up Suho’s cock to his entrance, slowly sinking down with already trembling thighs. He whimpers at the stretch, the feeling of Suho’s cock, of being so incredibly full. “Fuck, you’re tight.” Suho says.
“You better not come yet.” Sieun pants, reaching the hilt.
For a moment he sits there, getting used to it, rolling his hips a few times before lifting himself slowly, then down. He feels every inch of Suho’s cock dragging against his walls. Then, Sieun presses his hands onto Suho’s chest, speeding up.
“Mm—fuck—you’re so—” Sieun can’t even formulate the words, his moans start mixing with his small breaths and whimpers. Then gasps when he moves forward and Suho’s cock nudges the spot inside him. “Right there, right there.” Sieun moans.
Suho groans, “shit, you feel amazing.”
“Yeah?” He slows his pace, going back to rolling his hips slowly.
Suho groans, “Sieun, c’mon.”
Sieun tilts his head, innocently, “what?”
Suho grunts, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Sieun’s waist, flipping them quickly.
Sieun gasps, his eyes flying open.
“You’re such a tease.” Suho growls, bending Sieun’s leg into his chest, pulling out only to snap his hips forward.
“Oh, fuck—” Sieun moans, louder now at Suho’s brutal pace, with every thrust his body is getting pushed up onto the mattress, he’s trying to hold onto Suho’s bicep, digging his fingernails into his arm. “You feel s’good.” He slurs.
And fuck—Sieun refuses to believe this is Suho’s first time.
Sieun reaches down to wrap a hand around his cock, jerking himself off with every thrust. “Fuck, Suho, I can’t—”
Suho leans down, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “come for me baby, c’mon.”
Sieun’s moans steadily grow louder, then with a gasp he’s coming into his hand and his chest with a shudder, his vision nearly goes white as he tenses, clenching around Suho’s cock.
“You look so good like that,” Suho groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy, “shit, I’m going to—”
He stills, coming with a strangled moan.
Sieun feels his entire body go limp, “are you sure that was your first time?”
Suho lets out a breathy laugh, “positive,” he continues, mumbling, “let me clean you up.” He presses a kiss to his temple.
Suho wipes him down, discards the condom in the trash, “that was fun.” Suho says, pressing a kiss to his neck.
“Yeah,” Sieun admits.
“Do I get to take you out on another date?” Suho asks, leaning up to look at him.
“We have to,” Sieun says, “we can’t let those condoms go to waste.”
Suho laughs.