hot mess, for @uggitae
Night shift was going fine-tastic until they came along.
That's how he interprets the look on the cashier's face when they enter the convenience store, at least; somewhere between very horrified and very weirded-out, but still mediated by ye olde service mandate, "the customer is always right," so he probably won't kick them out. Unless they cause a massive ruckus. But that hasn't happened yet (in the thirty seconds they've been here, yes, real A+ achievement), so Ryuu is hopeful.
The boy's shock, of course, is not at all surprising, considering the state they're in: Ryuu feels tired, sweaty, desperate for a shower. He's not sure how he looks—he was too busy lugging a certain someone through Hongdae to look in a mirror—but he must be far from pretty. Still, he reckons it's nothing compared to said someone, Gitae, who's barely on his feet and has to lean on Ryuu for support. There's no blood on him, and he doesn't seem to be bleeding anywhere, which is good, but there is a big red bruise forming across the curve of his cheek, and it looks bad. Like, really bad.
It's not everyday a badly injured man and his badly panicked friend drop by a 7-11, but here they are.
He thinks back on all the times he thought Gitae's muscles were a work of art—and it's true, his bro is built like a fucking classical statue—but now he's also convinced that, at some point, somehow, all that muscle must've been too much for his body; they've taken space in the place where his brain is supposed to be, and now his bro is also a Certified Meathead. Picking fights at clubs and shit, brawling five against one. Stupid as hell.
Suddenly, at his shoulder, Gitae shifts; he tries to stand, and Ryuu feels relieved, because he's alive. But then he opens his mouth, barking, "What're you looking at?!" at the poor cashier, and immediately relief turns to dread.
"I'm so sorry, please ignore him, he's an idiot," the words leave him in a single breath. "Do you have ice? And maybe an ice bag—um, sorry to trouble you, but if you could just get them for us, please..."
"No, no, it's fine," Cashier Boy walks in wide sidesteps to the aisles, eyes never leaving the pair of them. "Please make yourselves comfortable. I'll ring them up for you."
-
Ryuu figures they've put Cashier Boy through enough excitement for one night, so they settle on an outdoor table, where it should be easier to ignore them. Hopefully Cashier Boy can return to his regular late-night shift bliss. He seemed like a good kid.
Not at all like the one sitting in front of him.
"Fuck, that's cold."
Ryuu sighs. "Yeah, no shit. It's ice," he pushes the ice bag into Gitae's hand, which inadvertently puts more pressure on his cheek. It earns him a vicious hiss—bastard! "Deserved. Now hold it yourself."
Gitae does as he's told, but not without muttering a few choice words under his breath. None that Ryuu cares to try and hear anymore, much less comprehend. They haven't gone to the hospital ("Fuck hospitals—hospitals are for wusses..."), but so far so good, nothing torn or broken anywhere ("I know what a broken bone feels like—do you know what a broken bone feels like?"), except maybe Gitae's Man Ego. Judging by his symptoms—pissy disposition, dangerously hot temper, inability to control the stream of cuss words pouring from his mouth—Ryuu would say he's got a pretty bad case.
"I swear, next time I see those pricks, I'm gonna—"
"Jesus Christ, hyung, give it a rest already—" Gitae at least looks distracted by him using the Lord's name in vain, and Ryuu raises his hands in surrender. Pays well to know the patient. "Okay, but seriously. Let it go. If you have an aneurysm and die, you'll never see them again anyway."
That seems to get to him. Gitae drags a hand through his sweat-matted hair and groans, letting his weight fall onto the back of the chair. The metal sounds strained. "I'm near bursting with anger and I don't know how to work it off."
It's a stupid suggestion for two people who've literally just been to a bar. "Wanna smoke and get a stiff drink?" Not that he smokes, and he might as well wear a sign that says LIGHTEST LIGHTWEIGHT IN ALL OF SOUTH KOREA, but it's all Ryuu can offer.
It's also good enough, apparently. "Heck yeah."