Spring Flower (A Seventeen Fanfiction)

Chapter Four: Bring It

I slam my driver's side door shut and step closer to the warm, red awnings that Target has to offer. It stings knowing that I'm coming here for two reasons—to say goodbye to the most well-paying job I've ever had, and to buy Soon Young a temporary wardrobe—among other things--to get him through the next two days of travel.

"Wow," he says, leaning back to take in the oversized department store in all of its glory. "What is this place?"

"Target," I reply simply. "I used to work here."

"Used to?" he replies as we step through the sliding glass doors and are blasted with heat, which is soaring up from underfoot grates. I scowl as my carefully straightened hair is blown around my face and into my mouth. Soon Young laughs. "Why did you leave?"

If only he knew just how recent my departure was. "I missed too many shifts, so they let me go."

Soon Young stops in the middle of the aisle, and glances at me. "You don't seem irresponsible."

I laugh hollowly, reaching out to brush my hands along the swimsuits they recently unloaded into the clothing department. "Looks can be deceiving," I reply.

I lead us deeper into the shiny maze of clothes, heading for menswear. Pants and shorts are haphazardly tossed on top of piles of jeans, while shirts half-hang off of their hangers. It's clear that no one had been in the clothing department for quite some time.

Oh, wait. That was my position for the day. They probably hadn't been able to find someone to cover for my absence. I scan our surroundings, watching for a grumpy coworker to zero-in on my presence and rip me a new one.

Soon Young grabs a t-shirt off the rack and holds it up in front of his chest, beaming at me. In the center of the shirt is a graphic of a cartoon tiger. "What do you think?" he asks, laughing.

I shake my head, a small smile rising on my face. "We're not getting you that."

Soon Young pouts. "Why not? I like it!"

I gently take the hanger from his hand and place it back on the rack. "You may like it. Your stylist, however, may not."

I continue to usher him through the clothing department, keeping his hand from reaching from anything too crazy. Even if k-pop is only a growing fascination within the States, the more I can get him to blend in with the normal populace, the better. His arms are laden with two full outfits, a pair of pajamas, and a new sweatshirt. I shove him into the men's dressing room, since there is no one present to man the collection desk.

I grab the sleeve of his jacket before he crosses into the beige hallway beyond.

"What's your underwear and sock size?" I ask quickly, averting my gaze.

"Wha-what?" he sputters. His face is flush red, all the way up to the points of his delicate ears.

I roll my eyes. "Relax, I'm not asking to be creepy. I just figured you wouldn't want to be wearing the same pair of underwear for three days straight."

"Ah," he nods shyly, turning back toward the fitting rooms. He quickly mutters his size under his breath and ducks into the hallway. I listen to the definitive clip of the changing room door locking before stepping away to hunt down his underwear.

The store is quiet. No music plays overhead, but it's relaxing to hear the patter of carts and feet as people make their way through the departments. Thankfully for me, no one is hovering around the clothing department, which gives me the chance to slyly straighten up the displays and fix the clothes that are dangling off of hangers. Even though I was just let go this morning, I can't seem to stop myself from fixing up a mess that was partially my fault.