on pieces of dyed rays | woosan

Chapter Twenty Three

"You're vandalising the place, San."

"I'm going to pay for it. If anything, I should be thanked."

Hanging out after fucking isn't Wooyoung's thing, but he's stopped counting how many 'rules' he's broken with this person who is about to scavenge everything on the shelf. Wooyoung isn't one to talk, but San never grew up learning to follow the rules, clearly.

No decent restaurants are open at eleven pm, so they decided they'd go berserk in the nearest convenience store—correction; San did, not Wooyoung. He's currently filling the shopping basket to the brim, with ramyun, sausages, cheese, potato crisps, puddings and other things buried underneath them.

San looks like someone who's never been to the convenience store before, laying a hand on anything that flashes before his eyes. Wooyoung isn't surprised though, considering he'd never had the most common street food, also living in that excessive apartment, he's parents must have kept him away from commoner habitats. Until, San tells him, "I'll make you the best ramyun combo in the world."

"You've been to a convenience store before?" Wooyoung asks San, who's now hunting down the drink section. "Not judging, but you look like a K-pop otaku who's come to a K-pop store for the first time."

Jasmine and her holy BTS shelf pops in his head.

"That reference is judgemental." San chuckles, pulling out a small red wine from the fridge. He walks over to the soft drink section, and adds in an amused sarcastic tone. "Believe me, I've been to convenience stores more than golf courses."

He pulls out sprite from the fridge and decides he's done with the raiding.

"You know what they say, the things you're kept away from as a kid, becomes your sweet candy when you grow up. Yeah, that."

San greets the cashier, who shifts his wide open eyes from the basket to San, at least thrice.

Wooyoung wonders which is worse; to not have freedom being banned, while they have means to get them, those things hanging in front of you. Or, to not have freedom because they're out of reach in the first place.

They walk up to the eating space located in the corner of the convenience store, just a board jutting out from a glass wall that faces the dark street outside, and four cheap stools. San rustles inside the plastic bag with a bunch of food worth three days of Wooyoung's meal, and pulls out ramyun and other ingredients to prepare 'San's Special Ramyun', as he calls it. Wooyoung tries his best not to see what witchcraft is happening there—for he believes if he does, he'd be terrified to try it, but at one point, he sees a marshmallow thrown in the cup, and he starts to simulate a way to dodge the offered food.

"Trust me," San says, placing a cup of 'San's Special Ramyun' in front of Wooyoung, who looks at him like he's facing an impostor of the century. He goes as far as splitting the wooden chopsticks into two, placing them in Wooyoung's hand.

It's his birthday dinner, San insisted, and for that fact, he should be served a pleasant dish instead of what could potentially be poisonous. But San had paid for the whole thing, and facing those expectant eyes, Wooyoung doesn't really have a choice, does he?

He glances down at the offered cup of ramyun, and there's no marshmallow in sight, probably melted. He instead sees a chopped up sausage, cheese, dumplings and sodden crisps, and just by the looks of it, Wooyoung feels full. He prepares himself for the worst and takes a bite of courtesy—and Wooyoung opens his eyes wide as he lets the unknown food slide down his throat.

"It's not as bad as it looks, right?" San beams.

Wooyoung nods dumbly and as if he's bewitched, he takes another bite. It shouldn't taste good by the looks of it, and while it is undeniably greasy and strong, it has this punching flavour which his tongue and hungry stomach were exactly craving for. San watches him eat more, and grins in satisfaction before he starts eating his own.