The Lovers that went Wrong

three

Minho had been wonky, out of it all day at work, putting items in the incorrect place, leading customers to the wrong aisle. The bags under his eyes had gotten worse over time. Today seemed like the limit to his boss, the minute Minho had even gotten a glimpse of his boss he was scrambling to avoid him in any way possible.

It wasn't so long until his boss saw the state Minho was in, he immediately tried getting the fatigued home, and back to bed. Pestering him. Minho knew (after being tortured through these past few days) he wouldn't sleep, he so badly wanted to get distracted to get his mind off of how gross he felt.

At one point Minho needed a chair to keep him up behind the counter because he was too tired, too lightheaded to stand for hours at a time while charging customers and answering the phone.

"Minho go home." His boss demanded.

Keep it together, don't snap. Minho told himself.

"I'm fine, I can last." He insisted, head slowly falling forward to rest on his forearm.

His boss, Soobin, had always been worried about him. He felt like it was his job to take care of Minho. Since he had turned in his resume, the interviews, training, really, all that's changed in him was the severity of Minho's eye bags.

Unlike Hyunjin, who couldn't be firm with Minho, Soobin could.. kind of. He didn't know Minho's story, never jumped to any conclusions, just left him as it was. All he knew is that anything, like a topic, to do with Bangchan was closed off. A boundary that wasn't meant to be crossed. Otherwise you'd burn up.

Until this point, he couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't take feeling what Minho felt just by looking at him.

"Minho, if you don't go home.." Now this was the hard part, Soobin was kind. Perhaps a little too kind, that he couldn't think of a 'threat' that made sense for this predicament. "I'm going to fire you." Is what was said in the end, "I can't have my workers looking like a zombie."

Show him you can last. Tell him you're fine.

As if a spell was casted on him, Minho shot up from the counter. A wide grin plastered on his face, though he needed to work on it. All you could see through the smile was resentment, anger, and shame.

"See?" He giggled, "I'm fine." Then his face turned cold again.

"Alright, I'm calling Chan." Soobin sighed, heading towards the phone. For the first time ever he was crossing the boundary that was covered in caution tape.

Hearing the name practically sent a shock down Minho's spine. "You call Chan, and I will run out this door."

If you were a bystander, you'd think the two were having a western showdown. Both circled around each other, one was making his way to the door to book it, the other just trying to make a call to help his employee.

Why won't you let me help you? Soobin frowned, eyes glistening.

Because I don't need it. I'm fine, I don't need your pity. It clearly wasn't feelings of pity but that's all Minho was fixated on. The gaze in Minho's dead eyes said it all.

Then Soobin had an idea. Unsure if it'll work, hesitance dripped out with his voice. "..Fine. I won't call." He could see Minho visibly relax, shoulders falling from his ears to his neck, dealing heavy breaths. "Just rest for a moment? I'll get us pizza and we can.. talk."

"Mm–mm." The younger one shook his head, "No talking."

"That's fine too. We can just eat, yea?" Soobin gestured to the same chair that Minho had pulled up earlier. Dazed, but still somewhat sane, Minho stumbled over his own two feet, and practically collapsed in the chair.