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"Dunhill, fine cut," the cashier says, and places a box of cigarettes, deep forest green, on the counter. Taehyung grabs a pack of mint gum as well, because buying just cigarettes somehow feels cheap.
"Debit," he mumbles, trying to give the cashier a small smile despite his headache.
The lights in the convenience store are bright and white, buzzing overhead like flies. Outside it's even worse, thin sleety rain and the occasional shard of sunlight through the clouds.
Taehyung's fingers fumble with his wallet and his card. His mind keeps drifting back to the conversation he'd had last night with Eunji, her buzzing voice through the receiver, his clammy grip on the plastic.
All the papers are sorted; I still have some of your things, by the way; yeah, you can come whenever; I can drop it off if you—yeah; okay, I'll...um, talk to you soon.
The phone calls are more of a formality at this point.
He pays, puts his card back in his wallet, and turns around while still fumbling with his wallet, cigarettes, and gum stacked unevenly in his hand. Head down, shoulder pushing the glass door of the convenience store open, he nearly runs into someone coming in.
"Shit, sorry—"
Taehyung looks up and blinks. Then he gives a tight smile.
Really, the biggest mistake he makes about the night at the strip club is thinking that it would just be one night.
"It's...fine—um, sorry."
Jeongguk—as in stripper Jeongguk, as in sexy, hard-bodied, good-with-his-hips Jeongguk—stands in the doorway and blinks awkwardly at Taehyung.
The first thought Taehyung has is that Jeongguk is different. Not visually—in that sense he's rather unchanged. Aside from the small imperfections, the acne scars and redness that had gone unnoticed in the darkness of the club, Jeongguk still looks like Jeongguk. His hair is dark and his eyes are pretty and round and his lips look soft, plump, a gentle pink on the inner edge. Taehyung recalls how they had felt brushing against his throat last Thursday.
But the way Jeongguk carries himself is different. It's the small things. The way he squints through the sunlight refracted through the windows, eyes puffy and face a little bloated from sleep. The shy hunch of his shoulders and the uneasy shift of his feet as Taehyung stands in front of him, a little shocked.
"Sorry," Taehyung says again, and steps to the side. "I'm in your way."
Jeongguk shakes his head and mumbles something, too quick and quiet for Taehyung to catch, and walks past with a polite nod.
Standing outside the convenience store, watching the sunshower, rain hitting the dirty pavement, Taehyung shakes off the awkward feeling and absurdity of this situation. There's just something about the contrast, how the intimidating nighttime dancer looks in 7 a.m. sunlight. He sighs and leans against the painted concrete wall, shielded from the rain beneath the overhang. He tears the pack of cigarettes open and sticks one between his teeth. As he lights it he thinks about calling Namjoon and telling him about what just happened, but he decides against it. There's not much he could really say anyway.
That boy, get this—he looks even better out of the dark.
For whatever reason, when Taehyung hears the chime of the convenience store door followed by footsteps stopping next to him, he's not even surprised. He just lifts his eyes from the red tip of his cigarette, taking in how good Jeongguk looks in a stylish spring jacket and black jeans. The metal of the jacket's open zipper gleams gold in the rising sun.
