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It’s dead week, or finals week as some may call it, and Keonhee is feeling its namesake. He’s gone to work far more than he does on a regular routine, not turning down any extra shifts - because let’s face it he needs the money. The customers are especially rude, claiming he’s put too much ice in their drink or not enough syrup or any other tiny thing someone can complain about just to make sure customer service is as bad as everyone says it is. Geonhak won’t get back to him about moving apartments, though he constantly sends messages apologizing and claiming he’s just busy but he’ll find a time. Keonhee would rather he give him a concrete no, so he can find someone else to do it, but he wouldn’t say that of course. There’s a million applications to send in to a million different people for graduation, which as a whole stresses him out all the more.
Keonhee hasn’t slept properly in at least four days, sneaking in naps when he can and fitfully fighting through them because of the anxiety that hangs over him when he knows he has something to do. He’s staring at his laptop, looking at the same lab report that was open two hours ago and with not much more to show for it now. He can feel his eyes fighting to stay open and he gathers it might be time to get some more caffeine again. He stands from the coffee table covered in papers, fast food wrappers and various empty beverages. Seoho stirs from the couch behind him, taking the time to plant his face in a cushion and get a nap in - Keonhee knows it just won’t work if he does that so killing his body it is.
“Time is it?” Seoho mumbles, face still down, making Keonhee wonder how he’s breathing. He glances at his phone and hides the tears that threaten to spring to his eyes as the offensive analog reads fifteen past three.
“About three.” Seoho took his break only forty-five minutes ago, he can’t have slept well. The man uses his arms to lift himself into a pseudo-plank and frown at the wet spot on the cushion. Through his mouth then , Keonhee thinks. Seoho turns the cushion over and puts it away as though it’s nothing. Keonhee has no brain power to get angry, if he even cared in the first place - that couch has seen much worse than some sleepy drool. “Red Bull?”
“No.” Seoho groans, stretching in such a way that makes his shirt rise and reveal his toned stomach. Keonhee thinks Seoho is insane, still finding time to go to the gym and eat healthy to maintain abs during a period that food is the only reason to keep living and there isn’t time to spare. “We’re out anyway.”
Keonhee freezes in his steps, arm out to open the refrigerator door but his hand rests on the handle in vain. “Out?”
Seoho gives him a sympathetic look, hearing the near crack in his voice at the terrible news. “Sorry, I’d go get some but I really need to get a move on with this paper. I’ve wasted enough time.” He looks at his phone and frowns. “Fuck. I overslept.”
“You planned like thirty minutes.”
“No, I allowed thirty. I planned fifteen.”
“Rest in peace.” He lets his hand fall, swinging limply at his side, and once again considers a career in sex services as he stares at their ceiling. How did that get dirty? How do you clean that? “I’ll go.” He says, finally. He was afraid of this, but maybe fresh air will save him from slamming his head into the coffee table in five minutes and he really needs the drinks. “Want anything else while I’m out?” Keonhee is already putting on his shoes, grabbing his puffy coat.
“The sweet relief of death.” A pause. “A communist revolution.” Pause. “Sex?” Keonhee snorts.
“Sorry, wrong store.”
“Tragic.” Seoho is back down on the floor, opening his monster of a laptop that screams as he starts it up - a processor that can barely run a game of tetris inside the ancient behemoth. “I’m good.” Keonhee is already opening the door, one foot nearly out the threshold that separates them from the real world and their apartment full of studying college kids, two different planets. “ WAIT! ” Seoho screeches. He doesn’t have to scream that loud. Keonhee is literally right here. He turns, blinking owlishly and waiting for the next word. He doesn’t blame him for screaming, what little stress relief they can find welcome during these trying times. “Soju. And beer.”
Keonhee raises a brow, but nods, and walks out with a sigh.
The convenience store is lit too bright for his tired eyes and mind, it feels like walking on the sun. He feels hungover, except without the fun of the night before. Keonhee is looking through the aisle of ‘sports water’ where they also keep the energy drinks and trying to decide whether they should get dragon fruit or cranberry flavor for their next case. He can feel the presence of another body next to him and does the quick ‘I wanna see who you are but not make it obvious’ glance sideways, pretending to look at the blueberry flavor - yuck. The stranger reaches for that exact flavor, the abomination.
The stranger looks familiar, that exact hoodie does.
“Ah!” Keonhee says a little too loud, causing the man to drop the entire case with a ‘shiiiit’. “Oh jeez, sorry!” He scrambles to help him pick up the cans now rolling away, freed from their cardboard prison and in his sickly ramen-filled, tired as hell and noodly state he trips and falls straight forward.
Keonhee has no reflexes. He lands face down, no arms to brace his fall. The sound is both comedic and terrifying.
They’re the only two people in the aisle, but Keonhee refuses to get up. He knows this man, no stranger at all. This man took him home just a few days ago, and proceeded to sleep with him after using his humongous brain for his final project. The slightly less fun kind of sleeping, though right now Keonhee would pay to do either. Now he’s witnessed him smack a case of Red Bull from his hand, mentally albeit, and then fall without even a moment of self defense from the merciless floor.
“Are you okay, sir!?” The familiar voice rings, and Keonhee is mortified to find the floor feels very wet underneath his face and his nose kinda hurts.
“Fine,” he comes out sounding like Squidward. The youth is kneeling beside him, light hand on his shoulder trying to lift him and Keonhee gives up. He lets him pick him up, see his face and while Keonhee is sure he looks not his best - he doesn’t think he looks as bad as the face Youngjo makes as he sees him. “Come on, I showered like two days ago. It can’t be that bad!”
“Keonhee, your nose! You’re bleeding everywhere.” He moves in front of him, putting his hands inside his sleeves and using the ends to wipe at his cupid’s bow and lips. “Oh my god, does this place have a bathroom? You need water. We need to figure out if it’s broken.”
“I think I’m okay.” Keonhee sighs. Honestly, he can’t really tell. His entire body feels like a part of himself he left at home, even though he’s using it. “Your Red Bull,” Keonhee looks down, the cans still spread all over the aisle - most dented. “Oh man, I’ll pay for this. Totally my fault.” It’s a little bit Youngjo’s fault, for liking the blueberry flavor in the first place.
“Don’t worry about it. I got this. I think you paid the price already.” He half smiles slyly at Keonhee. It’s hot. Keonhee is suddenly aware this is his almost one-night stand. Well, not exactly. It wasn’t supposed to be one night, but even though they traded numbers - neither had contacted the other since. It was still finals week, Keonhee was too busy keeping himself some kind of alive. Also he was scared. The guy was really attractive, he’s reminded of it now as he stands in the aisle - looking sleepy with fluffy hair and a hoodie that seems to be his only clothes, as he can see his collarbones and shoulder peeking through from where his sleeves have moved the collar down. “What are you doing here at this time?”
“Same thing you are, except with more taste.” He looks at Youngjo’s confusion, written plainly on his face and realizes how that sounds. “Not the blood thing! You just like the worst flavor of Red Bull so-”
“What’s wrong with Original?” Youngjo looks back at the aisle, eyes scanning the flavors.
“You picked up blueberry.” He turns back to him, offended.
“I would never.”
“You did! Look at the cans!” Youngjo picks up the remaining cans, placing them in the haphazard box and sighing.
“This was a mistake.” He looks past Keonhee, then the opposite direction and on his tiptoes to the sides, then takes the box and slides it far into the back - out of sight. Keonhee gasps.
“Dude!” Youngjo puts a finger to his lips with a smile. He kinda looks like a cat.
“We both can’t afford to buy two cases, don’t lie to yourself. Especially not blueberry .” Keonhee wants to argue, wants to with his heart and soul but knows it’s true and looks down defeated. “Let’s get you to the bathroom, this looks scary.” The walk over to the shitty supermarket bathroom isn’t that long but feels like it drags on his entire life. Keonhee was born in this store, he’s sure of it. His pinkie brushes Youngjo’s and they both glance at each other before quickly holding their hands back and walking faster.
Youngjo takes his time to wet a small pile of paper towels and wipe at the drying blood under Keonhee’s nose, to which they find is thankfully not broken at all. The cheap towels irritate his skin and Keonhee wrinkles his nose, frowning. Youngjo coos at him, whispering sorry as he continues to dab and soon enough - Keonhee looks just as bad as he did before he landed.
“Much better, you could barely tell how hot you are under all that gunk.” Youngjo laughs then stops and rubs his neck, awkward.
“If I’m so hot, why didn’t you text?” Keonhee laughs with the spirit of someone asked if they’re pregnant when they’ve simply been indulging too much.
“Why didn’t you ?” Youngjo says defensively.
“It was your apartment!”
“You asked if I wanted to -” Youngjo blushes, sputtering “do it first!”
“And then we didn’t!” Keonhee raises his voice. He doesn’t know why he’s being so silly, he doesn’t actually feel any anger at Youngjo. He’s just embarrassed. It’s both their faults anyway, or neither.
“I was tired!”
“Well you’re tired now too!” The argument only grows sillier, absolutely ridiculous.
“What!? You think I won’t fuck you right now ?” Youngjo scoffs. They both pause, breathing the tiniest bit harder from the effort, emotions and arousal that seems to be building.
Keonhee doesn’t know who grabs who first, but they’re kissing in a supermarket bathroom with Keonhee’s snotty blood on Youngjo’s hoodie that Keonhee is quickly unzipping and putting his hands under. Youngjo sucks at Keonhee’s bottom lip and brings his own hands to the back of Keonhee’s ratty sweatpants. He stops, a singular finger poking at Keonhee’s butt.
“What?” Keonhee breathes against his lips, confused.
“You have a hole back here,” Youngjo says, just as confused. Keonhee turns bright red.
“I think mostly everyone does?”
“Not that hole! In your pants, you have a hole on the ass!” Youngjo laughs, face tilting into Keonhee’s shoulder with the force of it. Keonhee laughs too, taking advantage of the new position to kiss at Youngjo’s neck and enjoys the sound it brings out of the shorter man.
“Easy access,” Keonhee jokes.
“Not that a big hole, definitely not big enough for me.” Youngjo murmurs, innuendo deep seated in his tone.
“Oh, yeah? Show me.” Keonhee dares to put a hand on the other’s crotch, realizing the other is already a little hard. “What is it about this setting that’s doing it for you?” It’s a good hearted joke, they all are. Keonhee likes their tug and pull, can’t wait to tug and pull on something else.
“Just - anyone could walk in,” Youngjo’s breath stunts as Keonhee puts his hand under the waistband and into his briefs, taking the flesh in hand and stroking slowly. Keonhee is surprised, didn’t take someone as quiet as Youngjo to be into something like that.
“It’s like four in the morning,” Keonhee’s chuckle is cut short with Youngjo’s reciprocation of his actions. He holds back a small whine, suddenly aware of how long it’s been since he’s even been able to jerk it. Seoho is always around, the bastard.
“It’s the concept,” Youngjo does whine as Keonhee twists on the upstroke, a particularly nice pressure on the head reaching him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“I’m not usually the type to give handjobs in a bathroom,” Keonhee admits, hoping that Youngjo hasn’t gotten the wrong idea of him after the sudden request of a hook up from their first meeting at the Starbucks and now this.
“Nothing wrong with that type,” Youngjo is setting a faster pace than Keonhee, picking up that the younger man likes it better that way from the way his thighs tense and his breaths hold. “You’re so fucking hot.”
“You’re one to talk, walking around with no shirt under that hoodie. Abs under there,” Keonhee moans, uses his free hand to run across the muscles of Youngjo’s stomach and bites his lip.
“This what you wanted that night?” The question catches Keonhee off guard, his hand losing pace before picking up again - even faster, a firmer grip as he focuses on the top of his cock - drawing tiny moans easily.
“Maybe. Wanted more, if you did.” Keonhee tips Youngjo’s head up by his chin, taking his lips in his again and slipping his tongue in. They’re both close, their movements sloppier and more desperate. The dirty talk gets to Keonhee; Youngjo’s voice was made for it. He wants to record it, play it every time he’s two fingers deep in his ass at home.
“Anything, baby boy.” Keonhee’s eyes go wide, he pulls back and looks at him. Youngjo blushes, looking away quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t-”
“I like that.” Keonhee squeaks. He didn’t know he likes that, and now he does know. Neat. The wonder of a supermarket in the early morning. He’s reminded he’s in a public bathroom, some poor employee could walk into and find nothing he wants to see.
“Where did you want my cock?” Youngjo’s pitch is rising, his eyes struggle to stay open as his head leans back and almost hits the paper towel dispenser. Keonhee is glad they have those, not wanting to walk back with jizz in his sweatpants.
“In my mouth,” Keonhee is mouthing at his collarbones, and is suddenly tempted by the idea. He can feel Youngjo’s cock throbbing and twitching, ready to break that dam, and Keonhee is a fan of easy clean up so he drops to a squat like he’s wasted on a club dance floor and puts the tip in his mouth. His eyes stay on Youngjo, as he sucks and he feels Youngjo release as he lets out a long moan, covering it as best he can with his free hand - biting his wrist.
“Fuck, that was so good.” Youngjo’s smile is dopey, the smile of someone who just had a mindblowing orgasm. Keonhee is good at what he loves. “What do you want?” He picks Keonhee up again, the other’s knees cracking and painting his cheeks pink at the sound. Youngjo smiles but ignores it, reaching in for another kiss as he puts his own cock back in his pants. Keonhee’s continues to bob around his stomach. He thinks about the clean up, and the hygiene of it all - fucking in a public bathroom.
“I want you to fuck me,” Keonhee kisses him again, dirty and wet, Youngjo’s hand is back on his cock. He knows exactly how to stroke him into going crazy, what a strange talent “but maybe not here.”
“I can’t really take you home tonight, baby boy.” Youngjo says, sounding genuinely disappointed at the missed opportunity. Keonhee is still freaking out over this newfound kink.
“I never took myself as someone who’s into that,” Keonhee admits. Youngjo laughs. “No, I gotta be getting back myself anyway. Make sure Seoho is doing his paper.” Keonhee is so close, Youngjo’s hands are just the right size for this - is there an ideal size for handjobs? Does it vary by cock? This is how Keonhee can tell he’s tired. Heat builds, his thighs trembling and he’s so close. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”
“Come for daddy,” Youngjo whispers this right into Keonhee’s ear, and Keonhee’s scream is definitely way too fucking loud to not be heard by anyone even remotely close as his climax hits and Youngjo uses the paper towel he magically finagled when Keonhee was busy contemplating if it’s okay to be turned on by ‘baby boy’ and ‘daddy’, to catch most of the mess. Keonhee’s horny after sex brain says it’s fine. No one’s being harmed here. They hear movement outside, and with the speed of two teenagers getting caught fooling around in their closet they have their clothes presentable and are totally not suspiciously washing their hands. The employee walks in, looks around, frowns at what Keonhee realizes must be the strange smell only present to those not involved in previous activities and walks out with a mutter of resentment.
“He totally knows.” Youngjo laughs, bending over the sink. Keonhee starts to laugh as well, actually washing his hands while he’s here. “I gotta be getting home.” Youngjo stands, fidgeting with his hoodie strings. Keonhee can see a hickey he left peeking out from the top, his masterpiece. “I didn’t mean to ghost you. Just busy. My finals are over this Friday, if you wanna grab dinner and a movie or something?” Youngjo looks so endearingly shy as he asks this, as if his hand didn’t just give Keonhee one of the best orgasms in his life in a dirty public bathroom.
“Bet.” Keonhee smiles, and they walk out together - unashamed of the implication, though Keonhee feels a little bad for the worker. At least they cleaned up.
“You took so long, dude.” Seoho says as Keonhee walks back through their front door, into the world of misery and stress and deadlines you try to push back with your sheer will.
“Yeah, ran into someone interesting.” Keonhee smiles, sitting back down in his spot of papers and looking at the paper with new vigor - excited for the date that awaits at the end of it all. He really likes Youngjo, for some reason. More than just his handsome face and dorky demeanor, and conflicting sexual prowess.
He doesn’t even mind that they keep meeting over caffeinated drinks.
“Where’s the bag?” Seoho asks, looking around Keonhee and the room with confusion.
“What bag?”
“The Red Bull?” Keonhee stares at Seoho, hit with the realization that he traded a good fuck for the life nectar. Seoho stares back, eyes squinting. “Is that blood on your chin?”
“So how much progress did you make while I was gone?” Keonhee distracts, hoping Seoho can’t see right through him like he does so often.
“Why do you look like you got fucked?”
“It was just a handie,” Keonhee swears, screeching as Seoho bends his head and noogies him like the bully he is. He holds back the ‘worth it’.