CONVENIENCE STORE LOVERS -P.SH
. . . SCENE ───a fridge door opens, a distance closes, and maybe this isn’t just coincidence.
• Stranger!Sunghoon & fem!reader r 𓂃 Fluff ,crack,mysterious, strangers to lovers? ✶ slight skinship, pt 2?
It’s too late to be making decisions, but here you are, standing in front of the convenience store fridge, staring at rows of neatly lined-up bottles like one of them is going to suddenly call your name. You’re not even that thirsty, you just needed an excuse to step out, breathe in the cold air, and pretend the city isn’t pressing in on you from all sides. The soft hum of the refrigerator fills the silence, and the glass is cool under your fingertips as you reach for a drink.
But just as your fingers brush the plastic, another hand gets there first.
It happens so quickly that for a second, you think you imagined it, but when you turn your head, he’s right there,tall, dressed in a grey hoodie, with sharp eyes that flick toward you in mild amusement. He’s holding the very same strawberry milk you were about to grab, tilting it slightly in your direction like he’s trying to decide whether or not to give it up.
“Were you reaching for this?” he asks, though it’s obvious he already knows the answer.
You let out a slow breath, steadying yourself. “Yes, actually.”
There’s a beat of silence where neither of you move. He looks down at the bottle in his hand, then back at you, expression unreadable. The lights overhead cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the way his lips twitch at the corners, like he’s holding back a smirk.
“You hesitated,” you point out, crossing your arms. “You weren’t even sure if you wanted it.”
For a moment, he just studies you, as if he’s weighing his options, and then,just when you start to think he’s going to walk off with it,he extends the bottle toward you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even try to make a show of it, but there’s something about the way he hands it over that makes it feel like a test.
You take it, fingers brushing his for half a second before he steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“See you around,” he says, turning away before you can respond.
It’s a weird thing to say to someone you’ve never met before, but you don’t dwell on it. You buy your drink, step back into the night, and tell yourself it was just a random encounter. Nothing worth remembering.
Except three nights later, it happens again.
This time, you spot him first. He’s by the register, idly scanning the shelves, looking entirely too comfortable for someone loitering in a convenience store past midnight. You tell yourself it’s just a coincidence,because that’s all it could possibly be,but then, just as you’re about to grab another drink, he appears beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here again,” he says, reaching for the fridge door, and the way he says it makes it sound like he absolutely did.
You glance at him, skeptical. “You don’t even know me.”
“True.” He pulls open the fridge, but instead of grabbing something, he leans against the door and watches you. “But I was right, wasn’t I?”
You exhale through your nose, trying not to let your irritation show. “Right about what?”
“That we’d see each other again.”
The way he says it, like it was inevitable, makes something tighten in your chest,not in a bad way, necessarily, but in a way that makes you a little too aware of how close he is, how his presence feels too solid, too intentional. You should probably say something, but before you can, he reaches into the fridge, grabs another bottle of strawberry milk, and places it in your hands like it’s some kind of inside joke you’re not entirely in on yet.
You stare at it, then at him. “what is this?”
He shrugs. “Thought I’d save you the trouble this time.”
And with that, he turns toward the counter, leaving you standing there with a drink you never actually asked him to get, wondering if maybe—just maybe,this isn’t the last time it’s going to happen.
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