svt story drabbles inspired by their happy burstday solos, who's are y'all most excited for? (and feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged for any members/all of them ^^)
(i have no planning going into this, not even any writing at this point, only the ideas. so i have no idea when or how soon any of these will be out; please be patient and don't place your hopes too high <3)
hiiiiiii i jus think ur pretty cool :o an like.... it'd be pretty cool if we were friends......... cuz ur so awesomeee............................... oki bai ^o^
your honor, i've never met this person in my life
i'm cool? i may glow in the sun, but i'm not a mirror, honey <3
thinking about bf!seokmin who always doodles on your skin. stars, swirls, flowers, you name it. he always has a pen to your skin when your mind is elsewhere.
and it was no different when you came to him with faded red semicircles dotting your arms and a matching crease in your brow. it wasn't anything serious, you'd said, just gripped yourself a little too hard and your nails had left indents. that didn't explain your reclusive demeanor, though.
seokmin didn't pry. not now, there'd be time for that later. he just picked up a pen again and pulled you closer, rolling up your sleeve to see the whole canvas.
he started placing little dots along the concave sides of the indents. when he didn't seem satisfied with that look, he started drawing two parallel lines and little circles instead. soon each of the angry red crescents had a pair of pen marks to match.
you studied your new ink. "smiley faces...?"
he nodded, his eyes disappearing into crescents themselves as he smiled. "first thing that came to mind, and besides--" He rotated your arm a bit to draw a small heart on an open patch of skin. "--now you've got a little bit of happiness to carry with you wherever."
🇴🇻🇪🇷🇻🇮🇪🇼 : to be honest, you're used to being ignored. it's unfortunate, but it's true. fortunately, though, you've got minghao to remind you how much he sees you.
🇵🇦🇮🇷🇮🇳🇬 : minghao x gn!reader
🇬🇪🇳🇷🇪 : established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff
🇼🇨 : 2k
🇹🇦🇬🇸 : reader has a rough time ngl, feelings of isolation and loneliness, negative self-talk, the world is overwhelming and exhausting, but hey at least we can delude ourselves w/ minghao, soft boyfie hao, hella unrealistic but idgafffffff
🇸🇴🇺🇳🇩🇹🇷🇦🇨🇰 : summer depression - girl in red | sorry haha i fell asleep - egg | raindrops (seungkwan solo) - seventeen
🇦/🇳 : vent fic who? damn, what i would've given to have a boyfriend like hao instead of having to therapize myself in the mountains (not clickbait). also, i completely forgot he covered raindrops for caratland when i wrote this, so that made this pairing all the better
thank you my dear @noniesgummysmile for betaing and helping me mutilate the darling. i love you soooososo much <33
{ your boyfriend is not a replacement for a therapist, so please still seek a professional <3 }
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦
Shut up.
Comfort them. They’re hurting.
Get over yourself.
Support them unnoticed.
Don’t sound like you’re trying to one-up them; be quiet.
They didn’t mean it, they just weren’t paying attention.
Not like you do.
Suffer in silence.
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦
The bus was dark. A ghostly glow emanated from a small light at the front signalling for seatbelts–not that anyone was using them anyway. Bright streaks of white flew by outside as cars passed at this ungodly hour.
You stared bleakly out the window beside you. Not that there was much to see other than the pitch black landscape and the subtle reflection of the bus’ interior provided by that one, lonely light. The occasional lightning struck along the horizon; no doubt emulating the turmoil still storming in your head. You could only tell it was raining if you looked to the front windshield to see if the wipers were moving.
You weren’t really tired, yet your eyes drooped from exhaustion nonetheless. It felt like someone had shoved your face into molasses and left you suspended in limbo. The tear tracks on your face had long since dried, but you couldn’t be bothered to wipe away the lingering drops lining your jaw.
Until a light touch cleared them for you before they could drip into your collar.
You turned your head, casting your gaze onto the one thing holding you steady: your boyfriend, Minghao. Even in the dark of night, illuminated in a soft blue from the lone fluorescent light, he still looked ethereal. And he only had eyes for you. Soft, concerned eyes, but still.
Your shoulders sagged, the weight of memories consuming your thoughts. The isolation. Guilt. Self-loathing. A constant search for what the point was anymore.
You didn’t know. Did you even care at this point?
Too much; and that’s the problem.
The trip was over. You were headed home, back to regular life, even settled in Minghao’s arms ever since he arrived with the bus.
So why did you still care?
Maybe it’s because, while you were used to the occasional ignorance, it’d never been to this degree. You’d always coasted through life, a subtle support that keeps things running in the background. Sometimes people acknowledged your effort. Sometimes they didn’t. You didn’t mind.
But loneliness was hard to shake, you supposed.
You sighed, leaning your weight onto Minghao, your head slotting perfectly onto his shoulder, and his own coming to rest upon yours. His slender fingers curled loosely around your hands in his lap, the painted digits fiddling with your own as he breathed next to you.
“You want to talk about it?” he murmured, slowly tracing the spaces between your fingers.
He’d asked something similar when he first saw your strained face upon reuniting. What’s weighing on you, my love? he’d said.
What isn’t? you’d wanted to respond.
But it was all too much; the people, the chatter, the heavy humidity. The promise of home after so long was all you wanted to focus on at that moment. So, you’d just shaken your head and pulled him onto the bus.
And now, with your thoughts numbly settled, you could only sigh again and nuzzle further into him.
“It wasn’t even that bad,” you began, “just one interruption here, another dropped topic there, little subtle things that started chipping away at me.”
Conversations were supposed to be give and take, right? Some would start well, enjoyably, even. Words formed sentences that elicited smiles. Laughter rang through the mountains. But then they’d stop paying attention. Another person would join in and the energy would shift, ostracizing you until you could walk away and they wouldn’t even flinch, carrying on like you were never there in the first place.
Nothing but a passing breeze in the cool mountain air.
Strike one.
You could feel Minghao’s head dip in a nod, imploring you to continue as he softly drummed along your knuckles.
“But then… I had no one to turn to. My entire focus was on keeping others afloat; and when I turned around, there was no one doing the same for me.”
You wanted to be mad. You wanted stew in complacent rage as the world passed you by without a care. But you couldn’t; too many people were being affected by the change in atmosphere and you were their support. Comfort in the strange new environment. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? It was all you could do, and it eventually worked because–due to your influence or not–people started feeling better.
Meanwhile you just felt… worse. You slowly deteriorated until your body and mind slipped into autopilot if you weren’t actively doing something.
And no one noticed.
Why would they?
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. They did notice, but by then it was too late; and they didn’t even do… anything?
No one cares when the ordinary people crack, do they?
Strike two.
“I missed that. Having someone to rely on, someone–anyone–who cared… at least when they could…” Your eyes fell on your intertwined hands, and the new tears that fell onto them.
You didn’t wipe them away. Neither did he.
“I missed you,” you mumbled.
His hand squeezed yours, and his lips met your temple as he echoed your thoughts.
“It feels like I’m a petulant child who’s whining for attention. Like I’m just digging up old skeletons to be bitter about when they don’t matter anymore.”
You could almost sense Minghao’s eyeroll on a spiritual level.
“You know that’s not true.”
“I know that, I just can’t seem to convince my emotions to think otherwise.” Your voice wavered as more water leaked out. Your nose was starting to run, too. How unpleasant.
“That was the loneliest I’ve ever felt. And no one seemed to care.”
You knew they cared. How could they not? What screw would you have to knock loose in order to not feel a sliver of concern at the sight of someone crying?
But the truth of the matter was, you weren’t their top priority. You never had been, and you were okay with that… right?
You were strong. You didn’t let yourself reach your lowest point, ever. Not for yourself, but because you couldn’t bear to make it someone else’s problem. Especially when they had so much going on already, and what you’d deluded yourself into being upset about was nothing in comparison.
You knew you shouldn’t compare burdens, but there really was no reason for them to worry about you.
It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. You’d done so in the past just fine.
You’d be fine.
Strike three.
You brought your head up to look him in the eyes, the dark voids that they were in the late hour. “It all just feels so inconsequential in the long run. I want to be crying for things that actually matter, not some childish complaint that no one's paying attention to me.’”
Minghao’s eyebrows drew together, the creases in his frown amplified in the blurry shadows.
“But it still hurt you. That matters, doesn’t it?”
He shifted to face you fully, dropping your hands in favor of cupping your face and wiping away the tears. Your eyes slipped closed for a moment as your entire body relaxed into his hold. This was what you missed. The ability to just… be. That was easy with Minghao.
“You put so much pressure on yourself to be a support to others, you know?” He shook his head, his dark hair swishing in front of his face momentarily. “I don’t even think you do it consciously at this point; that’s just the role you take upon yourself. Some people see that and are grateful, but others aren’t.
“You need to protect that heart of yours too, darling. It’s never unwarranted to be upset by things that hurt you, however trivial they can seem.”
You sniffed, a reluctant smile gracing your features while his own glowed brighter than the small seatbelt light.
“The world can try to break you down and make you forget your place in it,” he hummed, “but you’ve never let that stop you, and I’m confident you won’t now.
“You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s why I love you.” He paused. “One of the reasons I love you, anyways.”
You couldn’t contain the wet giggle that slipped out, causing the corner of his mouth to tick up.
“I know you’ve helped me so much when I’m struggling. Remember that one brutal choreo week a while back?”
You would’ve laughed if your heart wasn’t still an uncomfortable stone weighing in your chest. How could you forget? That was the time Soonyoung thought it’d be a good idea to sign the entire dance club up for a competition, and then neglected to tell them until a week prior.
In all the years you’d known Minghao, you’d never seen him that hollow in such a short amount of time. He spent so much time at the studio that week the only reason he didn’t fully move in was because there wasn’t a magical ration of food always being supplied. You’d taken it upon yourself to make sure he didn’t wither away from exhaustion–he was already built like a stick, it wouldn’t take much.
You hadn’t thought it all that special at the time, but Minghao refused to let you sweep it under the rug. He still wholeheartedly expressed his gratitude to this day; always saying that without your electrolyte drinks and encouragement he wouldn’t’ve made it through.
He grinned–that adorable crooked smile you’ve always loved–and continued. “Anyone else who can be on the receiving end of your love is blessed beyond words. Whether they know it or not.”
Your tearstained face met the soft reassurance on his.
“But even the strongest can’t shoulder everything, so let me carry this for you.”
He was still smiling as he tucked your hair back to see your face–clumped lashes, blotchy face, and all.
His lips met your forehead in a lingering kiss, a small spark of comfort and home along this desolate road. They left your skin for only a moment, long enough for him to whisper, “And I’ll carry it as long as it takes, until you believe every word.”
Dammit, you were crying again. But this time the tears were interspersed with breathless laughter, so it wasn’t all bad.
“You’re ridiculous, I love you,” you chuckled. “What’d I ever do to deserve you, huh? You, the epitome of grace and just overall… composure. You always make me feel valued. I can’t thank you enough for choosing me of all people to stick by.”
“Nonsense, I should be the one thanking you. My life would be entirely different without you in it.” Minghao’s smile softened. “But that’s not my reality. So, I don’t need to concern myself with that alternative.”
He looked at you with so much love that it was hard to comprehend at times. You’d considered the possibility that one day you might explode because of it. But then he’d be sad, and–as much as his pout made you want to put him in a jar for safe-keeping–you couldn’t bear to do that to him.
A beam of light passed along his features, causing his eyes to flit to the window behind you. His eyes sparkled as numerous lights illuminated his face in steady succession. He placed a hand on your shoulder, gesturing for you to turn around.
Objectively, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. The bus had entered a small town; thus, more of the outside surroundings were evident thanks to various streetlamps and the occasional porch light. But what caught your eye was the bus window itself.
It’d started raining again, apparently; not that you would’ve been able to hear it over your thoughts anyway. Raindrops covered the entirety of the glass, invisible until the passing light of a streetlamp made them sparkle like tiny rhinestones.
“Don’t bother thanking me, my love,” Minghao whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. “You are already a diamond.
“You just needed a little light to see how much you shine.”
ᵒᵛᵉʳᵛⁱᵉʷ : vernon shoots you an sos. enter, you vs. exoskeleton-ed creature, round: who knows at this point.
ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍ : vernon x gn!reader
ʷᶜ : 0.5k
ᵍᵉⁿʳᵉ : established relationship, fluff
ᵗᵃᵍˢ : bug threats and kisses. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.
ᵃ/ⁿ : saw this video. i don't think i need to explain further; someone save this man-
┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈
> babe help
> there’s an infestation, the bedroom is no longer safe
> get the lighter fluid and burn down the house
You weren’t sure what you were expecting when walking into the house, but Vernon standing crouched on a chair in a corner with his arms braced on the walls was…not far off actually. Although, usually he’d be cowering in on himself; this is the first time he’s gone full Spiderman pose.
But you probably shouldn’t mention anything related to arachnids right now.
You cracked your knuckles, eyes scanning the room menacingly. “Where is it.”
“Last I saw it, it crawled under the table. After it dropped from the ceiling onto my hand and I chucked it across the room.” Vernon’s mouth was agape from the horror, his brows drawn tight.
How dare it scare your baby. Forget catching and releasing it outside, execution is in order.
You snatched a book off a nearby shelf; no way were you going to crush this thing with your bare hands, what are you, crazy? Probably to be honest. Your eyes flicked to your boyfriend still in the corner. “How big was it, would you say?”
His face scrunched in discomfort, clearly not enjoying having to remember anything about the nightmarish fiend. “About this big? Maybe?” he mumbled, pinching his fingers about half an inch apart.
You tsked, “Despicable.”
The dreaded table drew closer as you crouched to peek underneath, book at the ready. Your eyes scanned the underside, darting to the surrounding floor as well. Vernon met your grim look and his shoulders fell.
“Nothing. It must’ve booked it.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the book in your hand. “Not by my hands, unfortunately.”
He sighed, stepping down from the chair–and gripping your shoulder when his legs wobbled from pins and needles.
“It’s fine. Thanks for trying, babe.”
“Don’t mention it; anything for you, hun.”
You discarded the book, turning to place a kiss on his cheek. “Someone's gotta make sure my princess is safe from the evil critters, right?”
His lips pursed in a pout, “I was ambushed. And you mock me in my time of distress.”
You grinned, “I do.
“Because even when you’re running like a damsel away from something with too many legs, you’re still cute.”
Whatever he was going to say next flew out the window when your lips met his.
He exhaled, arms setting around your waist as you pulled him closer by his hoodie. Truthfully, he should be more afraid of your kisses than bugs. They’re not good for his mental state (but is he going to stop you? Hell no, they can pry you from his cold, dead hands).
You pulled back, regaining oxygen and holding one hand in his hair, softly scratching at his scalp. His bleary gaze met yours, fingers drumming on your back, and he leaned in to rest his head in your neck.
He liked just holding you, feeling your familiar weight and keeping you close enough to ground his thoughts. Drown out the world in your embrace…
A soft buzz passed by his ear.
He ignored it, nuzzling closer to you and giving you a squeeze, eliciting a giggle from you.
Another buzz, louder this time. Almost uncomfortably close.
It seemed you heard it too because both of your heads raised in sync, scanning the room for the source.
That of which flew right in front of Vernon’s face.
𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰: skater!chan finally bags the cute boba shop worker he’s had a small crush on since they started working across from him. who knew they were full of surprises?
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zumiez worker!chan x tii cup worker!reader (reader is written gn, but you do have a more femme leaning aesthetic [you also buy a skirt, but that's less relevant to the plot] and wear false nails [this one is for the plot])
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, strangers/acquaintances to lovers, meet-cute in da mall :D
𝐰𝐜: 8.1k
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: whipped!channie (he's a lil pathetic), mutual pining, mentions and appearances of other members (mostly vernon), skateboard terminology that may not make sense to those who don't skate (but is easy to look up), one comment of hot topic slander, egregious use of commas
𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: california love - 2pac, roger, dr. dre | replay - iyaz | bang bang - k'naan, adam levine | everybody talks - neon trees | cupid's chokehold/breakfast in america - gym class heroes | classic - mkto | stereo hearts (ft. adam levine) - gym class heroes | troublemaker (ft. flo rida) - olly murs
𝐚/𝐧: this was supposed to be just a cute drabble- i didn't WANT to write a whole fic. sigh. oh well. shoutout to @sparkyy00 for reading all my shit as i go, and the wonderful @gent1es3xy for beta-ing. thank you both so much for keeping me going (and fueling my antics) <3
and special props to @noniesgummysmile; this one's for you babes. mmmwah !! have fun (｡•̀ᴗ-) ✧
Chan was getting pretty sick and tired of organizing stickers.
There’s really no point; considering the display was just going to get rifled through again within the next hour, and all his hard work and adhesive-residue fingers will be for naught.
Some of these stickers’ designs were terrible anyway. The brand logos he can give a pass–and his personal favorite, “The Goose is Loose” wanted poster, that one’s pretty good–but why there’s copious amounts of “i love boobies” he’ll never know.
But, hey, a paycheck’s a paycheck so who’s he to judge.
Despite some of the, albeit weird, setbacks, Chan wouldn’t say he hates his job. Working at Zumiez was chill; the general crowd was full of like-minded people who appreciate good, quality skate clothes and parts that they can just pop in for during their visit to the mall. He’d made some good friends through their regulars, even finding out a few went to his university.
Then there’s always the young teens who either like the aesthetic better than the Hot Topic downstairs (as they should, that place can burn), or who are interested in getting started with their first skateboard and have no idea where to begin. Building their boards and walking them through the process—while giving some of his own tips—is always the highlight of Chan’s day.
And if he’s able to get discounts on said parts for his own boards? Hell, he’ll take it.
Working in the mall itself was interesting. All of the stores were crammed in every which way, yet they still somehow managed to be far bigger than you’d expect; complete with giant entrances that display the vibe of each establishment pretty accurately.
And it’s through this entrance, technically two of them, that Chan looks through now.
He’s finished with the sticker display and presently stands behind the register with his face propped up in his hand. It’s slow right now, just some guys in the back looking at trucks–with Vernon helping them–so there’s no one to give Chan grief for slacking.
Thus, he watches; eyes wandering past the entrance to his workplace and out into the mall’s white interior. His brain has been desensitized to filter out the usual bustle, barely even registering each person that passes by. Instead he opts to focus his gaze into the shop across the way: Tii Cup.
Or, more specifically, to the person working the counter inside the boba shop.
He doesn’t know their name. All he knows is that ever since they started working there three months ago, and he realized that their shifts almost always lined up with his, he hasn’t been able to get them out of his head.
Chan’s seen his fair share of attractive people; everywhere in LA from his uni to this mall is full of them, a beautiful range of styles and personalities as far as the eye can see. But there’s something about them in particular that he can’t seem to look away from.
Everything enticed him; from the hints at their style, white and pink accessories adorning their head and soft frills peaking out from the stark black of their uniform, to the way they carry themselves, confident and friendly, greeting each customer with a smile.
And that smile, that damn smile.
Even from across the mall, he knows that smile radiates enough warmth to rival concrete that’s been baking in the California sun for several hours straight.
And, oh…what he’d give to feel even a drop of its shine directed towards him; and learn how to make it stick around forever.
It’s never obvious when your whole life is going to turn on its head, is it? Chan never thought so at least. Sure, there were surprising moments, but they usually never amounted to much past that.
So there he was, rummaging around in the back for something that a customer requested; a customer that Vernon was helping—so why is he the one having to go box diving like it’s an extreme sport? Whatever, he found what he needed and shut the supply closet door with his foot. A faint clatter rang out behind him, sounding a little too close to one of the bigger boxes on the higher shelves deciding to jump ship.
Chan winces, but opts not to acknowledge whatever damage is behind those doors in favor of leaving it as payback for Vernon later.
He steps out onto the floor again and beelines to where Vernon waits by the case of skateboard wheels. Chan shoots him a small glare, stepping behind the counter and handing the customer their requested item: Slime Balls, in a nice teal color with light up LEDs. A solid set of wheels; they have good taste.
The customer completes their purchase, with the addition of one of the dreaded “i love boobies” stickers–Chan has to resist the urge to strangle himself–and exits the shop.
Chan’s eyes trail after them, casually drifting around the shop again. There’s a few more customers milling about; a mother helping her son try on skate shoes, a couple browsing the wall of jeans, and some poor soul in the back who can’t seem to make up their mind on which deck decals they wanted.
Chan could only chuckle at their struggle before his gaze is drawn back to the front with the arrival of another group.
It was a close knit group of four, all casually chatting with one another as they walked in and immediately turned left towards the bedazzled pink women’s clothing section.
Each of them looked like they were right at home there with the vibe they gave off; it was like they all stepped right out of a pastel rewrite of a 2000s chick flick. Pink tones and neutral patterns were mixed with denim and layered accessories that to some would be considered gaudy, but they made it look effortless.
Their combined laughter bounced off the racks and filled Chan’s ears, causing him to smile. He liked seeing people happy; it was probably the best look anyone could wear, he thought.
One of the figures that had been standing in the back, clad head to toe in varying shades of pink and yellow, turned their head to look around the shop more, landing on Chan.
He met their gaze and his smile dropped.
You.
“I never understood what you saw in him anyways.”
“Oh please, like your taste is any better.”
“Hey–”
“Can y’all shut up for a sec and answer my question. Which belt?”
You grinned at your friend's antics, stepping in between the bickering to aid in Holly’s dilemma, “Go with the bullet belt, it matches your fishnet top.”
Holly’s eyes lit up and she nodded, placing the other belt–a clear plastic one with a heavy buckle–back on its hook.
“It’s nice to know that someone around here actually cares about my date tonight,” she drawled, draping the bullet belt over her arm. “Because unlike some people,” She gestured between the two at your sides. “I can actually keep a man.”
Lang’s shoulders raised to your right as he feigned a gasp. “How dare you- I’ll have you know each of my partners has found me wonderful. A true delight!”
Seojun reached around you to flick him in the forehead. “Uh-huh. Sure, buddy. And that’s why you’ve got a body count long enough to rival Santa’s list. Did you make sure to check it twice?”
“EIGHT IS NOT A LONG LIST–”
Seojun burst out laughing, “Eight-! In two years bro! You can’t look me in the eye and tell me that’s normal.” He trailed off into a fit of giggles, wiping his hand on your shirt like he could rid himself of the potential contamination that was Lang’s terrible boyfriend capabilities. You smacked his arm in return.
Placing both your hands on their backs, you shoved them forwards to follow Holly. “Just be quiet and help her already. That’s the whole reason we even brought you guys in the first place.”
The two of them grumbled but begrudgingly walked after her, leaving you to close the gap and leisurely hang back behind the group.
You snickered, shoving your hands in your pockets and letting your eyes wander around the store.
Zumiez was cool; you liked shopping here–albeit not very often. The floor-to-ceiling stacks of clothes and cramped racks of hoodies and jackets was the exact mix of organized chaos that you thrived in. And while you wouldn’t quite consider yourself drawn to the more loose and dark skater clothes that they did supply, there was a smaller section that had items more your speed. There were plenty of cropped hoodies that layered perfectly over variously colored graphic baby tees, which matched the plethora of bottoms and shoes you already had at home.
But today you’re not here for yourself, so you take it slow.
Your eyes trail over the stickers plastered on the fake graffiti walls. Most of them are ones that they sell, go figure. Once your gaze lands on one too many “i love boobies” stickers (why is there a whole column of them lined up one right after the other-), you switch your sights to the register; where, to your surprise, another pair of eyes was waiting for you.
Oh-
He realizes he’s been caught and quickly ducks his head. Your eyes remain glued to him, and as if he can feel your stare drilling into the back of his head, you watch as his ears start turning pink.
Oh.
Oh, he really is adorable.
Tii Cup was not your first choice when looking at job options; especially when it was located in a mall, of all places.
However, you’re a college student; you need the money—and more options, of which there are none. Alas, beggars can’t be choosers.
And thus is the story of how you got stuck at Tii Cup.
It’s not all bad, though; you’ve actually come to enjoy it the longer you’re here. Your coworkers are incredibly friendly and accommodating to your inexperience, and making drinks is more relaxing than you’d think. Plus, you’re rarely bored with the steady stream of mall goers constantly coming and going, so there’s always a new face to talk to.
But there was one face that caught your eye, cementing itself in your brain even though he never set foot in your place of work.
He was gorgeous; fluffy brown hair falling into his eyes that he would frequently try to blow out of the way, and an adorable toothy smile accompanied by a distinctive laugh that rang all the way across the mall into your ears.
When you heard his laugh, faint as it may have been, for the first time while working, your head whipped in the direction it was coming from. You wanted–no, needed–to know where that sound came from.
And you found it across the mall, in the store facing you: Zumiez.
It seemed he mostly worked the register, not unlike yourself, but you’d sometimes see him restocking products along the walls (and staring at the higher shelves like he was wrestling with his pride on whether or not to grab a ladder).
How you could discern all of that by the tiny pinprick of his figure you could see from behind the drink counter was an unsolved mystery. Not that you were keen on looking away anyways.
Bright. That’s how you’d describe him.
And that description rang true the more you observed him as you followed your friends through the shop.
After he’d broken the little staring contest you had going, he seemed determined to avoid looking at you again–or be caught looking, that is. He thought he was slick, but you could still sense his gaze on you when your attention was elsewhere. It was amusing really.
You weren’t planning on getting anything for yourself today, you were mostly here for support and regulating Lang and Seojun’s antics, but that was before a denim skirt caught your eye. It was sturdy, with deep pockets (or as deep as you can get with a shorter skirt), and perfect for bedazzling.
And if it gave you an excuse to talk directly to the cute boy behind the counter, well, you grinned.
Say no more.
Chan wasn’t panicking.
Certainly not.
He just thought you were cute, that’s all. And he didn’t dare entertain any thoughts about interacting past that.
So, no, he wasn’t actively fighting internal combustion at the sight of your group approaching the register.
Although, to be fair, he should have expected this. It was a fifty-fifty draw as soon as your group stepped in the store on whether you’d walk out with a purchase or not; thus, meaning he’d have to interact with one or all of you. Good thing he’s not a gambling man because he’s currently losing that bet.
He plastered on his best “customer service” smile to hide the torment.
“Hey there! Did we find everything okay today?”
“Absolutely,” Holly responded, placing the belt and a newly acquired pair of jeans on the counter. She snickered. “I hope we weren’t too much of a ruckus on your slow day.”
Chan shook his head, hair flopping in front of his eyes once more, “Not at all. Consider it a welcome distraction.” He flicked the stubborn hairs away, shooting her a boyish grin.
Holly exhaled in mock relief, “Thank goodness, I don’t know what I would’ve done if these jeans were kept from me for even a minute longer. Thanks to some people—“ She shot a glare over her shoulder.
Lang stuck his tongue out, the metal barbell pierced through it reflecting the fluorescent overheads, while Seojun didn’t even look up from the game on his phone.
Holly clicked her own tongue. “And just between you and me,” She leaned over the counter conspiratorally. “Those two numbskulls need to quit it with the romantic tension or I’m gonna smash their heads together myself.”
Chan snorted, his smile turning genuine as his shoulders eased a bit. His peripheral glazed over the rest of the group, before catching your eyes again and immediately shooting back to what he was doing.
Right. A customer is making a purchase.
Work the register, Chan.
His body slipped into autopilot; folding the jeans with enough skill–or required training–to make his mother proud. Placing the items in a tote bag and tearing a receipt from the printer, he handed Holly her items, bid her good day, and resigned himself to watching you all leave and go back to his normal routine of only seeing you from a distance.
At least, that’s how it should go, right?
The drawer to the register clicked shut with finality, which couldn’t be said for Chan’s heart when he looked up and found you standing directly in front of him (on the other side of the counter, obviously).
You grinned, sliding forward the skirt you’d grabbed, and Chan took a deep breath to recenter himself—and remember how to form sentences. “Hello, find everything alright?”
Your eyes crinkled as you nodded, “Yep! Wasn’t really looking for myself, but this caught my eye so I had to indulge.” A shrug. “And I got paid yesterday so it’s fineee.”
“Eugh, don’t I know it,” he groaned. “Any ideas for this item in particular? It’s great on its own, but I can’t imagine someone with such a distinct style like yourself–” he gestured vaguely over your outfit, various charms dangling and sparkling in the dingy shop lighting, “–would just wear it plain.”
Your cheeks ached as your smile widened, a laugh slipping past your teeth. “Yeah, actually. I got this huge bag of pearlescent rhinestones a while back and haven’t found a chance to use them. I’ll probably end up lining the seams with them…or something like that. A gradient up maybe? I’m not quite sure yet.” It wasn’t a complete lie, you really did have a giant bag of sparkles sitting in your closet.
Has it been there for about two years? Yes.
Were you pulling these excuses out of thin air to self-justify your need to talk to this guy? Also yes.
Details, details.
“Well, whatever you come up with I’m sure it’ll be great.” The two of you exchanged a grin, and Chan let out a breezy laugh as he completed your purchase. He pushed forward the card terminal and you absentmindedly swiped, keeping your eyes and smile on him.
They were stunning, he thought, matched your smile. You even had little rhinestones in the inner corners and around your waterline that further accentuated their rich jewel color.
Safe to say, Chan was starstruck.
Warmth exuded from your presence in waves; yet all you were doing was standing there, calmly watching him and looking more gorgeous than Chan could comprehend. Well, maybe that’s a stretch, because clearly he’s of sound enough mind to realize how pathetic he’s being.
Forget your smile being as warm as the sun, should they put you in space you'd give the center of the solar system a run for its money.
Chan dragged a hand down his face, his eyes turning into crescents as he smiled–grimaced? He wasn’t sure. Regardless, he hands you your item and you relieve him of it.
“Thanks! I guess, I’ll see you around…?”
“For sure!”
For sure? What is he talking about—there’s no guarantee he’ll ever see you again from only a foot distance. “You know where to find me. Or uh…I’ll just be…here. Yeah.” Good save.
“Right,” you held his stare, taking in the layered browns of his eyes.
An air of comfort resided in them. You’d meet his eyes and warm vats of chocolate greeted you, gently swirling with a subtle amber hue when the light hit them just right. It was like you could taste the sweetness by proxy just by looking into his gaze.
Hold on, your train of thought came to a screeching halt.
“What’s your name? I totally forgot to ask, I’m so sorry–”
His eyes widened out of their relaxed almond shape. “Oh! No, yea—don’t worry about it!” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair (probably only worsening the bird’s nest it already was). “It’s Chan.”
You mulled it over, rolling the syllable on your tongue, your voice dripping with what Chan could only hope was something akin to fondness.
“Chan…” you mused, a small grin settling on your features. “It suits you.”
He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and rising towards his cheeks, but as soon as he opened his mouth to respond a sharp call rang out behind you.
“Yah! Flirt on your own time, I’ve got a date to get ready for!” Holly groaned.
You rolled your eyes, the rhinestones stuck to your skin shifting with the movement, and waved goodbye as you turned to make your way back to your friends.
Chan watches you go, ruminating on the interaction, however brief.
Everything he had conjured in his mind about what you could be like couldn’t’ve prepared him for actually meeting you in person. Your confidence was exuberant, your style—no longer hampered by the heavy black uniform—was eclectic yet meticulous, and your smile made him feel like the skies had personally opened upon his person to shower him in its light on a gloomy day.
But as he watched you walk away chattering to your friends, it was your eyes that kept coming back to him; bright and curious, sparkling like the jewels that surrounded them. Yes, the eyes of…
Chan yelped, grabbing your attention as you turned around from where you stood at the entrance to the store.
“Wait—I never got your name,” he called, nervously fiddling with the ends of his sleeves.
You met his gaze, smiling as your name fell from your lips.
And just like that, you were gone, dragged out by your impatient posse; leaving Chan in awe of your bedazzled eyes and only one word ringing through his head:
Pretty…
The weekend passes. Chan alternates himself between schoolwork, work, and squaring up with his past self in the mental arena of regrets.
He’d spoken to you, gotten you to laugh, even managed to get your name—which was still bouncing around his head like a screensaver logo.
And he’d forgotten to ask for your number.
The wall would look great with a head-shaped dent, wouldn’t it?
Vernon was no help; as soon as Chan finished relaying the tales of his misfortune, he’d just shrugged.
“Well, you got their name; why don’t you just go up to them at work and ask? You’re already on some level of familiarity. It wouldn't be that weird.”
Chan shut him down immediately. Go up to them at their work? What is he, some desperate creep jumping at the first chance he gets now that he has your name? Nope. No, no, no.
He groans, slumping forward on the register counter and hiding his face in his arms. He hears Vernon sigh, and his receding footsteps as he leaves Chan to man the front.
He just slumps over further, his back curling like he suddenly acquired his own turtle shell to crawl into, practically begging the floor to disappear under him.
Abandoned.
Abandoned in his time of distress by his only companion, how could he.
Chan’s mental cursing of his coworker’s bloodline is interrupted by a soft voice.
“Uhm, Chan? Are you okay-?”
His head whips up fast enough to audibly crack.
You wince at the sound, “Dude–that sounded like it hurt like hell. Are you okay?”
Chan doesn’t even notice the throbbing in his temple (he will later, though; Vernon will reprimand him too), taking in your worried expression and new, equally elaborate outfit for today. Blue seems to be the theme this time around. Nice. Blue is nice. It looks good on you.
Pick up your jaw, Chan, the floor is disgusting.
He clears his throat, straightening up and shifting his weight to shake out the pins and needles from leaning over too long. “Yeah, uh, I'm fine. Perfectly fine. What’re you doing here? Wait, no–that came out wrong. Uhm.” Oh, someone end him. “How can I be of service to you on this fine afternoon?” Sure, that works.
You smile and brandish a bag that he only just now noticed you were carrying. “Turns out, I can’t read,” you sigh dramatically, “ I got the wrong size and need a bigger one. This one couldn’t even make it past my thighs.”
Chan decides to slam shut the door to whatever thoughts that comment entails, and instead responds, like a normal person.
“Hm…well we just changed our floor layout yesterday, and I don’t think I remember seeing that skirt for sale anymore.” He frowns, mouth forming into an adorable pout that makes you want to poke his cheeks.
“But then again,” he notes, “Vernon was the one who did the women’s side this time around, so I could ask him if you’d like? Or even check the back; since it’s so recent we might have a few left over.”
“That’d be great! I don’t mean to make you do more work than this is worth though–sorry about that.”
He waves away the comment, “Nonsense. This is literally my job.” He steps out from the register and scans the store for that familiar face. No luck, must be in the back. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he winks.
Jiffy? He can’t walk away fast enough.
Fortunately for Chan, they did have some extras left.
Unfortunately, he forgot to see what size you were returning.
So when he returned with four skirts in tow, he had to ignore the small red tint to his cheeks as he took in your confusion. “I forgot to ask what size you needed…so hopefully, one of these works..?” C’mon ground, open up already.
Thank goodness you laughed.
“Of course, no worries!” You scanned over the skirt’s tags, settling on one that was about two sizes up.
“I think this should do it,” you mused, “it was really only the waist that was a problem, seeing as I couldn't try anything past that. So if I just…” Grabbing the two ends of the skirt along the waistline, you raised it and wrapped it around your neck to measure. The edges met, with a little extra overlap to boot. Perfect.
“Yep! Look, if I have a bib, then it’s perfect.” You did a little twirl to emphasize your point, the denim being held around your neck lifting slightly along with the other loose layers in your outfit. “I think this makes a nice addition, don’tcha think?”
Your combined laughter filled the shop as Chan tucked away the skirts you didn’t need.
The two of you chatted about anything and everything while he processed the exchange. He found out you went to a college not far from his, amidst a story about how inept one of your professors was at navigating basic technology; and in turn, he told you about how two of his upperclassman friends almost got suspended for a prank they pulled during orientation week (how Mingyu could stand to show his face around the art department was still a mystery to him).
Chan finished printing your new receipt just in time for the ending of his harrowing tale about an altercation with another friend of his.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Minghao that speechless, save for when Vernon started shooting him with a water gun while he was meditating on the green.” He chuckled fondly at the memory, handing you your new item with a reluctant smile.
Why must all good things come to an end? It wasn’t everyday that he met someone like you: amicable, easy to talk to, a sense of humor he can get behind, and not to mention an immaculate style to match.
You know what? No.
He already fumbled once, he’s not going to let the opportunity pass again.
“Hey uh, I know we’ve only spoken twice now,” He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.
“But I’d really love to talk and get to know you more—preferably not when I’m on the clock.” A nervous pause. Finish strong Chan, too late to back out now. “Could I maybe get your number so I can take you on a date? Only if you’re comfortable with it of course–” he sputters.
A beat passes.
And another as you shift around the bag on your arm.
Chan opens his mouth to take it all back when you slide your phone to him on the counter; a new contact open on the screen, presumably for him to fill.
He met your gaze—incredulous—as you smiled, all bright and beautiful, “I’ve really enjoyed chatting with you, too. To be honest, I probably would’ve come running back to get your number the first time if Holly hadn’t practically been dragging me by the collar out of here.
“Plus,” You propped your arms on the counter, various charm bracelets clacking on the laminated wood. “I’ve seen you around from before then; and I have to say after meeting you, I’m glad to see that you’re even cuter than I thought.”
Chan’s face should be considered a fire hazard.
“Well,” he gulped, “I’m glad I’ve exceeded expectations…?” His brain is too fried from firing on all cylinders just to remain standing, so he hands you back your phone; his contact still on the screen, now reading: Lee Chan (from zumiez).
Your eyes flick over the screen, then you start typing. Chan feels his phone buzz in his back pocket, a text from you presumably.
“Aish, I should probably get going. I need to track down Lang for his glue gun, and this skirt ain’t gonna bedazzle itself!” Laughing, you turned and walked back out into the mall, but then stopped at the entrance and glanced back to Chan.
“Thanks for your help Chan! Hit me up for that date when you’re free.”
Chan was only able to check your text on his break twenty minutes later.
> heya! its the bedazzled skirt dude :p lemme know when youre free to chat, and for that date you promised hehe ^^
> cya around channie <3
The two of you did end up going on a date not long after. It went swimmingly (and not just because it was at the beach), and you parted ways with the promise of more meetups and dates to follow.
You’d also see each other in the wild from time to time. One such time–much to the dismay of Chan as he looks back on it–was when he was out skating with Vernon along the coast. They usually just cruised when skating here because the sand on the concrete made skating all the more difficult, much less tricks.
So that’s what they did, and what they were doing, when a voice started to call his name.
“Chan!
“Channnnn! Hey, Channie!
“YAH-! LEE JUNG CHAN I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!!”
He jolted at the full legal name, his head cautiously turning in the direction of the perpetrator. Which turned out to be you, sitting criss-crossed on a concrete wall, beads in hand like you were in the middle of crafting (who is he kidding, of course you were), with Seojun next to you eyeing him over the rim of his drink with what looked like amusement.
Chan lit up, his whole face screaming pure, unfiltered joy as he waved back to you.
But—because fate likes to mess with him—while he was preoccupied taking in this chance encounter with you, he failed to notice how much his skateboard had slowed underneath him.
Then came the break in the sidewalk, a caught wheel, and his entire body seizing in surprise as he crashed into the grass.
Has the Earth finally decided it’s his time? Just crack open underneath him and swallow him whole so he doesn’t have to lament in his shame?
He laid there sprawled out on his back for a good twenty seconds, trying to retrieve the air knocked out of him as he stared dazed at the sky, contemplating his position in the universe.
Red coated his ears and neck like the dirt now on his jeans, and he had quickly gotten back up and cast you one last wave before skating away to avoid further ramifications to his ego.
Vernon cast you a sideways glance, shrugging, before waving goodbye himself and taking a running start to catch up to Chan.
You still giggle about it to this day–Chan hides his face in his hands each time you remind him.
Casual encounters increased after the second and third dates. Some more intentional than others, but the one neither of you will ever forget is when Chan visited you at work a few months after the two of you started talking.
It wasn’t the first time he’s come here during your shift; he’d made it a habit after you’d made it past the talking stage to come over every few days on his break. Sometimes he’d get a drink, always asking you to surprise him with whatever your current favorite was, and other times he’d just stand around to chat (your coworkers liked him though, so he never got too much flack for distracting you).
Regardless, you were more than happy to see his fluffy brown head and giddy smile pop into the shop.
And this time was no different, you spotted him approaching and quickly finished up the drink you were working on so you could greet him freely with a smile. He returned it instantly, sliding up to the counter with his usual grace and you set off to prepare a drink for him. You’d decided to keep it simple and give him your favorite: peach milk tea with flavored popping boba to match.
Or at least, you would’ve if you hadn’t turned around only to see your coworker using the last of the peach popping boba. Huffing, you swapped plans and started making a brown sugar milk tea instead. Respect for the classics.
What you’d failed to notice, though, as you focussed on perfecting the drink, was how quiet Chan had gotten.
Usually he’d be filling the space with endless chatter—for your entertainment or just because he liked to yap, either way you loved it. It didn’t matter if he was rambling about how obtuse his professor was, or going into way too much detail about another creepy antique shop Vernon had dragged him to in order to find a present for his partner. You never had to question what was on his mind because he’d come running to you with the latest news.
But now there was none of that. And it was only when you turned around to give him the drink that you saw his apprehensive stance. He was wringing his hands, twisting the two rings on them absentmindedly, and his eyes would flick to yours before looking away just as fast.
You frowned, setting aside the drink. Refreshments could wait.
“You alright there Channie…?”
A visible flinch, like he’d forgotten where he was and had gotten lost in the recesses of his mind. Your frown deepens.
“Chan-”
“I need to tell you something,” he blurts.”Or, rather, ask you something.”
You blinked. “Okay..?” Nodding, you gestured for him to continue.
“Right. Okay. Uh,” He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
“Uhm…well, first of all, I just wanted to tell you how much I love spending time with you. I know it’s hectic to plan around work and school and whatnot, but you’re easily one of my favorite people to just be around. I don’t think I ever thought that when you first came into Zumiez that day that we’d end up as close as we are. And I wouldn’t change a thing, don’t get me wrong,” A chuckle.
You could see his usual confidence returning as he went on, and it made you smile. He reached for the drink and took a sip, humming when the sweetness hit his tongue.
“Well, that’s a lie. Kind of,” He raised his eyes to meet yours as he chewed, a sheepish smile coating his features. “I suppose there’s one thing I would change.”
He stepped up to the counter, setting aside the drink, and held out his hands. Like he was asking for yours in turn. And maybe he was, you weren’t quite sure; but you slipped your hands in his anyway. He squeezed them once. It was a grounding action, for the both of you.
You cocked your head, amusement tainting your face. “And what would that be, hm?”
He grinned, shooting you that toothy smile that you’ve come to adore (with a bit of tapioca stuck in the corner that made you stifle a laugh).
“I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”
What.
Your face fell in an instant, brows furrowing in confusion.
He doesn’t…what?
After all this time? How long has he thought this, were you that bad a friend? How did you not notice sooner? No, he literally just said he liked your company. “What are you-“
He continued in the midst of your spiral, “I don’t want to be your friend; but,” he sucked in a breath as you held yours, “if you’ll let me, would you allow me to be your boyfriend?”
Oh.
Then he’d looked at you with eyes that emulated the pearls in the drink you made him, and all you could do was lean over the counter and pull him down to meet you as you breathed out a single:
“Yes.”
Chan was going to commit a felony.
Either that, or eat these damn screws.
Whichever comes first.
Everything had started out fine; he’d bought his new set of wheels—complete with longer screws and spacers, then picked you up outside your campus for a little casual hangout time before your shifts started. You’d heard him rave about these wheels for over two weeks, so it was only fitting that you be there when he finally put them on his board.
But now, he’d rather have you be anywhere else than right here watching him try not to blow a gasket over some dumb bolts.
A fight he’s actively losing at this rate.
You’d offered to help, multiple times actually. As much as you loved his little pout and furrow in his brow when he gets frustrated, now you just felt a little bad for trying not to laugh. But Chan refused your assistance each time.
It wasn’t that he was stubborn—okay, he was, but the gentleman in him couldn’t let you ruin the fresh set of nails that your roommate had done for you.
He liked this set, it was a little longer than what you usually had, resulting in sharp clacks as you tapped your fingers on the back of your phone. You’d even sprung for decorative charms and mini pearls to litter the glittery pink surface.
And then there was the smile you’d worn when you opened the door for him (a bit too forcefully maybe, much to the chagrin of your roommate, who yelled at you to be careful), brandishing your bedazzled fingers with barely contained excitement.
Yeah, Chan would rather jump off Santa Monica Pier than have his stupid board ruin such artistry. (Did his refusal also have to do with the fact that he wasn’t sure you even knew the first thing about navigating a skateboard, much less constructing one? …Maybe.. But he’s not going to tell you that-! What kind of boyfriend would he be if he said that to your face?!)
Besides, he’s not going to let himself be bested by bolts of all things. They’re just tiny chunks of metal, and he’s a grown man!
The bolt slips out of his fingers off the screw.
It clatters to the pavement, mockingly bouncing a few times before settling just out of reach.
Chan considers throwing the skate key into the ocean.
“Babe.” You wave a manicured hand in front of his face. He doesn’t register it, just continues to ruminate on how best to reduce this skate key into scrap metal.
A small chuckle escapes your lips as you softly turn his face to look at you. His cheeks flush with a rosy tint, his eyes widening in surprise before softening and melting slightly at the contact. Ah, there we go.
“I admire your effort.” You begin, raising your other hand to brush a lock of hair out of his face. “But I can’t watch you dig yourself deeper into this pit of despair, okay? Can you hand me the skate key, so I can help you?”
Chan sighs, his breath hitting your palm in a short burst. Reluctantly, he hands over the tool; his shoulders sagging in defeat. Bested by nuts and bolts. Right in front of you, who is now taking his board and bracing it between your legs, probably on your way to breaking a nail as you lodge the truck in place and screw on the bolt with ease…
Wait, what.
His eyes locked in on your fingers, watching them nimbly flick the bolt onto the screw. You flipped the skate key to carefully pop the tiny allen wrench out from the top. Maneuvering around your nails, you positioned both the skate key and the small phillips head screwdriver at the other end of the allen wrench on either side of the screw and bolt holding the truck in place. Then you start twisting.
It’s not supposed to look that good is it?
You’re just screwing on a bolt, bracing the screw head at the other side of the board so the bolt actually attaches. One screw finishes with ease, and you pick up another bolt and position it at the next point; diagonal to the first, like you’ve done this a million times.
Chan just stares, watching you attach the other three screws without missing a beat.
Oil and grease smears on your hands as you handle the parts, but stars still glitter both on your nails and in his eyes.
The last bolt is secured with one final tug of the skate key, and you lay the board deck-down across your legs. You wipe your hands on the grass to rid them of the worst grease stains; you’ll clean them later with wet wipes in your bag, but right now you want to check your handiwork.
“I think that should do it!” You flick one of the wheels and watch it spin with ease on the new bearing Chan had installed. The colors of the marbled rubber blend into one blurry circle before slowing down and differentiating themselves again. “Can I try them out?”
Chan blinks, snapping out of his daze as he processes your request.
“I mean, yea? Of course you can.” Like he’d ever refuse you anything.
He stands and dusts his hands off on his jeans. He raises them awkwardly towards you, not unlike how middle schoolers would when dancing with a partner for the first time and don’t know where to put their hands. “Do you want to hold onto me? I can like, walk alongside you as you hold onto my shoulders, or something-”
Please, he doesn’t think he can take you falling off the board. Or getting injured in general.
If you so much as crack one nail, he’ll drop to his knees in remorse, and he was already holding his breath watching you assemble his board like the angel you are (you were even in white with pastel accents today, gorgeous as ever).
He’s mid-shift from one leg to the other when you playfully scoff and place the board on the asphalt, before getting to your feet yourself.
You flash him a grin, your eyes sparkling in addition to the rhinestones once again surrounding them. “Oh, ye of little faith.” You pecked him on the cheek and moved past him to step on the board.
“Watch and learn.”
Chan could only reminisce on the slight breeze that ruffled his hair as you took off.
Then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks:
You could skate.
Sure, Chan had always had an inkling in the back of his head about “What if we skated together?”, and even had offered to teach you at one point. But he’d been interrupted by Mingyu asking who he was on call with–yes, his partner does go to another school, thank you very much–and the conversation never circled back.
Now his eyes just trailed your figure gliding along the concrete and he couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t know how to skate.
And you could skate well.
Your kickoff was clean, and each additional push off to maintain speed was followed by a smooth re-footing on the board. Weaving through the beach goers was no challenge either. Bending your knees and guiding the board with subtle shifts of your weight, you eased through and around the crowd until you turned around back towards Chan.
Your hair was windswept, various strands falling across your face, and you wobbled a little–your arms shooting out to the sides to maintain balance–as you slowed down before recentering yourself with one last push. Then you raised your head to look at Chan, a bright smile coating your features.
And oh…you were breathtaking.
You rolled to a stop in front of Chan, stepping off the board and propping it on the curb with a breathless laugh as you swiped your hair back into place. “Well, I’d say they’re a solid pair of wheels. They feel great, babe. I can see why you chose them!”
Chan didn’t move.
He was stunlocked; your cheeks were flushed with exertion, your smile radiated happiness, and your eyes were sparkling like the sun on the waves in the ocean behind you.
And then you were cupping his face; looking at him all soft and pleased, your nails resting lightly on his cheeks, and it took everything he had not to melt to the floor in your hands.
“Channie…you alright there, bud? You’ve been kinda spacey today…” Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout, causing Chan’s eyes to dart to your mouth before returning to your eyes. Which were now sparkling with something else, a look he’d become very familiar with in these past weeks since dating you.
He wasn’t going to make it to his shift alive was he?
Your lips curled in a smirk, thumbs brushing the apples of his cheeks, which were now beginning to look like said fruit.
“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re flustered?” you chided. “Your eyes get all round and you get this whole ‘awestruck’ look on your face. Even your jaw drops slightly, juuuuust like this.”
You punctuated your point by sliding your thumb down to use your nail to tug his bottom lip slightly. Chan had never been more thankful for the longer shape.
He let out a ragged sigh, fogging up some of the jewels glued to the acrylic. “You may have mentioned it in passing, yes…” Hell, you never let him forget it.
His hands moved to rest on your hips, softly fiddling with the fabric of your hoodie that was tied around your waist. He matched your grin with one of his own, turning his head to place a lingering kiss on the palm still cupping his face. “You’ll be happy to hear that you’re the only one who’s actually had the pleasure of saying it to my face.”
You scoffed, “And why would I be happy about that? More people should acknowledge how adorable my boyfriend is.” You squished his cheeks, causing his lips to purse in sync with your own as you scowled at him. He’s just so malleable; makes you want to poke and prod him all the time.
“Is this just your ploy to get people to say you have good taste,” he mumbled, amused. It wasn’t really a question. You both knew it.
Immediately your grumpy demeanor was replaced with an exaggerated smile as you leaned forward into his face.
“Yes.” A kiss to the temple.
“It.” Another on the other side.
“Is.” Tip of his nose.
As much as he tried to stand on his own–and keep his pride intact–Chan loved when you just treated him like a marshmallow. He’d gladly let you tickle and tease him if it meant he got to hold you close and brighten up your day, even just a little bit.
Admittedly, it was a little embarrassing in public; but when you looked at him like he was all that mattered, and you started grumbling about how unfair the world was while littering his face with the sticky residue of your lipgloss, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Deal with it.”
And he would, in a heartbeat. Because now your lips are on his and everything else in the world might as well dissolve in your sweetness.
[𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:]
Entering Zumiez to drop off your boyfriend wasn’t the big heartbreak you think it’d be.
Hard to miss someone when you can still have mimed conversations from across the mall, much to the dismay of your coworkers (poor Vernon has been smacked in the face one too many times, and has since learned to avoid Chan when his attention is directed outside the store). Plus, the two of you had a date planned for later tonight–the whole reason you’d gotten your nails done in the first place.
That didn’t stop you from keeping your hands together for as long as you could, of course.
You chatted with Vernon behind the register as Chan clocked in. He returned right as a customer walked up to pay, and the two of you stepped aside so Vernon could do his job. Something the customer was purchasing caught your eye, making you snicker and subtly point it out to Chan.
He groaned. “Why do we even have those stickers.”
You laughed, hooking your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. “They’re just funny at this point, to be honest.”
“Ehhh… debateable. But sure, dear, whatever you say.” He hummed, looping his arms around your waist to give you one last hug before you had to leave.
You’d since put on your hoodie since entering the mall, stating the air conditioning made it too cold. He didn’t mind. Now it just felt like he was hugging a big cozy plushy–that would randomly kiss his cheek with an exaggerated “mmmwah!”
Curse having a job, he’d rather stay here in your embrace.
Your breath hit his ear as you giggled.
“Don’t worry. I love you for more than your boobs, pretty boy.”
