even the unknowns ; chenji

park jisung's forever thing

jisung

Jisung has a cat-hair-covered portfolio in one hand and an Earl Grey milk tea with white pearls cut-the-sugar cut-the-ice in the other.

It's a straight shot from the counter to his target table, like the universe has pushed every obstacle out of his way. It's a straight shot, but it feels like a canyon. Filled with piranhas. And dynamite.

He has to do this. He has to take that first step.

(Though he'd literally have to anyway, but... that's not the point.)

He sucks in a breath and marches out from behind the counter. He's been working at the cafe since he graduated. The tea is sweet and the snacks are shiny, almost everything dipped in syrup and served on a stick. The checkerboard floor and clink-clank of tiny dishes and buckets of tapioca; everything is pretty and familiar and predictable and Jisung can't wait to quit and never ever freaking come back.

He sets the tea on the table, in front of a guy wearing a trench coat made of squeaky red-and-white material. He looks like a mint, but chic, and his face pulls it together. Or maybe it's the confidence. Every time he comes in — same day, same time, same order — Jisung feels like forking over the cash register and all his tips too.

Ten Lee looks up at him, thumbs still going mach speed on his tiny fashionable smartphone.

"One Earl Grey milk tea with white pearls cut-the-sugar cut-the-ice," says Jisung.

Ten lifts the cup daintily and sets it down again, smacking his lips. He deliberates, then finally smiles up at Jisung and says, "Fabulous, as always. Thank you."

He goes back to his double-thumbed typing. Looks up when he realizes that Jisung is still hovering.

"Can I help you?"

Jisung flings himself into a bow. "Mr. Lee, I know this is weird but I want to be a photographer who works for you. Please."

Ten studies him wordlessly.

"You own that magazine, right? The one with models and fashion and stuff? I thought, if your magazine has so many pictures, you'd need all the photographers you can get, and since you're into charity, you might be interested in giving an amateur his first job..."

Ten just blinks. Jisung doesn't think that's a good sign, so he holds out his portfolio.

"Please, just look for a second. It's my work, so far."

Ten takes the binder, starts flipping through with the most severe expression Jisung has ever seen in his life. So he keeps talking.

"I know I have a lot to learn. My best friend — his name is Chenle, we're kind of dating but it's chill so we don't really do labels — got me a camera for my birthday and I started taking pictures of my cats and I thought, hey, this is kind of fun, maybe this is, like, the thing that I'm supposed to be doing with my life, and then I remembered you, and I thought, hey, I have to at least try even though I'm probably going to embarrass myself and—"

Ten raises one finger. Jisung shuts his stupid face.

"How old are you?" he asks.

"Eighteen. And three months."

"And your boyfriend bought you a camera, which you then used to compile a portfolio of cat pictures, so you could show it to me in the hopes that I would hire you on the spot."

"I mean, there are a few pictures of sunsets at the back, but..."

Ten is shaking his head, slowly, gravely. Jisung's back is sweating.