𝑐hoco ⟢

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝗉revious

II. (chapter) ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ two & final ͏͏ ͏: Before You

Juhoon set his chopsticks down for a moment.

"So..."

Y/N looked up from her ramen.

"Hm?"

"You never asked what I do."

She shrugged.

"Didn't really feel important."

"Really?"

"If we were going to spend the rest of our lives trapped in here? Sure."

She took another bite.

"But we've only got, what... three hours left?"

"...Four."

"See?"

He let out a quiet laugh.

"You're a difficult person."

"I've been called worse."

He rested an elbow on the table.

"So."

She looked at him expectantly.

"What do you think I do?"

Y/N studied him with exaggerated concentration, her eyes traveling from his hoodie to his shoes before returning to his face.

"Hm..."

She tapped her chopsticks against the rim of her cup.

"You definitely don't work retail."

"...How can you tell?"

"You still have hope in your eyes."

Juhoon laughed, nearly dropping his chopsticks.

"That's... harsh."

"It's accurate."

She pointed at him.

"Your turn."

"My turn?"

"Guess mine."

He looked at the employee vest she was still wearing.

"...Convenience store employee."

She stared at him for a second.

"...You're terrible at this."

"I panicked."

A snort escaped her.

"Try again."

He thought for a moment.

"...College student."

"Part-time convenience store employee."

She nodded once.

"See? That wasn't so hard."

He smiled.

"I got lucky."

"You did."

She leaned back in her chair.

"But you..."

Her eyes narrowed again.

"I can't figure you out."

"Oh?"

"You don't look like an office worker."

"...No."

"You don't look like someone who does manual labor either."

"No."

She frowned dramatically.

"...Just don't tell me you're an idol."

For the briefest moment...

Juhoon's smile froze.

"...Why?"

Y/N shrugged.

"Nothing personal."

She stirred her ramen absentmindedly.

"I like music."

Another shrug.

"I just don't really get why people act like idols are perfect."

Juhoon stayed quiet.

"They smile all the time."

She rested her chin in her hand.

"They're always polite."

"They always say the right thing."

She scoffed softly.

"Nobody's actually like that."

Juhoon looked down at the steam rising from his cup.

"...Yeah."

"It sounds exhausting."

He didn't answer right away.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"...I think it probably is."

Y/N simply nodded, completely unaware that she'd just described the person sitting across from her.

The empty ramen cups ended up stacked neatly on top of each other before Y/N tossed them into the trash near the employee counter.

Neither of them moved for a few seconds afterward.

There wasn't much of a reason to.

Outside, the city remained wrapped in darkness, the occasional headlights sweeping across the metal shutter before disappearing just as quickly. The rain had started again sometime during dinner, soft enough that it barely made a sound against the windows.

Inside, everything stayed exactly the same.

The steady buzz of fluorescent lights.

The hum of refrigerators lining the back wall.

The faint smell of coffee and instant noodles lingering in the warm air.

Juhoon glanced at the clock.

2:07 a.m.

Still hours to go.

"...Guess we should get back to work," he muttered.

Y/N looked over.

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to accept your fate."

"I accepted it an hour ago."

"Liar."

She pushed herself out of her chair, stretching until her shoulders gave a quiet pop before grabbing another unopened box from behind the counter.

"Come on."

He sighed dramatically as he stood.

"I can't believe I'm volunteering for unpaid labor."

"You're not volunteering."

She handed him the box.

"You're being exploited."

"...Somehow that's less comforting."

"It should be."

The next hour passed in an oddly comfortable rhythm.

One of them would open a box.

The other would stock the shelves.

Sometimes they'd switch without saying anything.

Sometimes Juhoon would place something in the wrong spot, and Y/N would silently move it back the second he walked away.

He noticed every single time.

"You know I can see you doing that, right?"

"I'm fixing your mistakes."

"They're artistic choices."

"They're inventory violations."

He clicked his tongue.

"I feel judged."

"You should."

At one point she caught him lining up bottles by color instead of brand.

She stared.

"...What are you doing?"

"It looks nicer."

"It looks unemployed."

He laughed so hard he nearly dropped the entire case of sports drinks.

The longer they stayed trapped inside the store, the stranger the situation became.

Not stranger in a bad way.

Just... normal.

As though stocking shelves with someone you'd met barely two hours earlier was something people did every Tuesday night.

The awkwardness had disappeared somewhere between organizing the snack aisle and arguing over whether pineapple-flavored candy should legally exist.

Conversation came and went naturally now.

Sometimes lasting only a sentence.

Sometimes disappearing completely for several minutes while they worked side by side.

Neither seemed bothered by the silence anymore.

It no longer felt like the silence between strangers.

More like the quiet that settled between people who had grown unexpectedly comfortable in each other's company.

By the time they finished reorganizing the drink refrigerators, another pile of flattened cardboard boxes had formed near the storage room.

Juhoon picked up the stack, balancing it awkwardly against his chest as they headed toward the back together.

Halfway there, his eyes drifted toward Y/N.

She never checked her phone.

Never reached into a pocket to look at the time.

Never absentmindedly glanced at a notification.

Thinking back on it...

She hadn't touched one all night.

He'd assumed it was because she'd been working.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Once they dropped the boxes beside the storage door, curiosity got the better of him.

"...Can I ask you something?"

She looked up from the box she was flattening.

"You just did."

"You know what I mean."

"I do."

She rested the cardboard against the wall before dusting her hands together.

"So ask."

"...Earlier."

He nodded toward the pocket of her hoodie.

"You really don't have a phone?"

Y/N shrugged.

"Not anymore."

"You never replaced it?"

"No money."

He frowned slightly.

"What happened to the old one?"

She was quiet for a second.

Then, as casually as if she were commenting on the weather, she answered,

"A girl smashed it."

Juhoon blinked.

"...Smashed it?"

"Against the floor."

"...Why?"

"She was annoying."

He gave her a look.

"...I don't think that's how the story started."

"It wasn't."

The corner of her mouth twitched.

"She kept talking trash."

"And?"

"I told her to shut up."

"And then?"

"...Then we fought."

Juhoon couldn't help raising an eyebrow.

"You get into fights often?"

She tilted her head, pretending to think.

"...Often enough."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"I appreciate the honesty."

"My parents don't."

She leaned back against one of the shelves, folding her arms.

"They figured that if I was going to keep acting like a problem..."

She gestured vaguely around the convenience store.

"...I could earn my own money."

"So this job..."

"...Is my punishment."

She shrugged again.

"They said if I wanted another phone, I'd buy it myself."

Juhoon glanced around the brightly lit store.

"That's... rough."

"It could be worse."

"How?"

"They could've made me work mornings."

He laughed.

"You really don't take anything seriously, do you?"

"I do."

Her smile softened, just enough to notice.

"I just don't like looking like I care."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Juhoon realized that was probably the most honest thing she'd said all night.

And somehow...

He believed it.

The silence that followed didn't feel uncomfortable.

It settled naturally between them as Y/N bent down to grab another unopened box from the floor.

She sliced through the tape with the small box cutter tucked into her apron, folded the flaps open, then nudged the box toward him with the toe of her sneaker.

"There."

Juhoon looked inside.

"...Ramen again?"

"The universe has decided you're the ramen guy."

"I was hoping for a promotion."

"You've actually been demoted."

"...I didn't even know that was possible."

"It is when you keep stocking them backwards."

He sighed with theatrical disappointment before picking up the first cup.

This time, he stopped to check the label.

Made sure it was facing the right direction.

Then carefully placed it on the shelf.

He stepped back with an exaggerated look of satisfaction.

"There."

Y/N glanced over.

A beat passed.

"...Not bad."

His head turned so fast she almost laughed.

"...Was that a compliment?"

"I wouldn't get used to it."

"I knew there was a catch."

She walked past him, adjusting one cup less than an inch to the left.

"There."

He stared at it.

"You moved it."

"I improved it."

"You moved it."

"I perfected it."

He let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head as she continued down the aisle with the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Without either of them noticing...

The store had stopped feeling like a place they were trapped in.

It had quietly become a place where the night was passing far too quickly.

Juhoon stood there a moment longer than necessary, staring at the cup he had just placed so carefully, as if it might suddenly rebel and tilt itself out of alignment out of spite.

Y/N walked past him without comment, but the faintest trace of amusement lingered in the way she adjusted the next stack of noodles. Not a smile exactly. More like the idea of one, briefly passing through.

They fell back into work again, the kind of rhythm that didn't ask for permission. Boxes opened. Shelves filled. Time blurred at the edges until it stopped feeling like something you measured and started feeling like something you moved through.

At some point, Juhoon realized he had stopped thinking about the clock altogether.

That alone felt strange.

He had lived by schedules for so long that even silence usually came with an internal countdown. But here, between fluorescent hums and the soft rustle of cardboard, time was behaving differently. Less like a ruler. More like water slipping between fingers.

Y/N crouched near the lower shelves, tossing empty packaging into a growing pile. Juhoon worked a few steps away, but their movements kept overlapping in small, accidental ways. A box passed too close. A shoulder brushed lightly when they reached for the same item. Neither of them moved away quickly anymore.

That fact, somehow, felt louder than anything they had actually said.

Then it happened without warning.

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

The refrigerators gave a low, uncertain hum, like something waking up confused. Y/N paused mid-motion, a box cutter still in her hand.

Juhoon looked up.

"...Did you see that?"

Before she could answer, everything died.

The fluorescent lights shut off at once, plunging the store into a thick, unfamiliar dark.

The silence that followed wasn't the same kind they had grown used to.

This one had weight.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Only the emergency exit sign glowed faintly at the far end of the store, painting the aisles in a dim green haze that made everything look half real, half memory.

"...Well," Y/N's voice cut through the dark, steady as ever. "That's new."

Juhoon exhaled slowly.

"...Is this normal?"

"No."

A pause.

"But it's also not surprising."

He let out a quiet, slightly disbelieving laugh.

"That's not reassuring."

"It's not meant to be."

Somewhere in the dark, there was the soft sound of something shifting. Then a faint thud. Juhoon turned instinctively, but it was hard to tell where anything was anymore.

"...Y/N?"

"Still here."

Her voice was closer than before.

Too close, actually.

He took a careful step back and immediately bumped into a shelf. A few items rattled softly, threatening to fall.

"Ow."

"Careful," she said, closer again, and then there was a brief pause. "Don't move too much. You're terrible at navigating in daylight. This is worse."

"Hey."

A faint sound that might have been a laugh escaped her.

"Relax. I'm right here."

Another step, and suddenly they were close enough that he could make out her silhouette in the green glow. She had moved without announcing it, as if the dark didn't matter at all.

He blinked.

"...You're really calm about this."

"I've had practice," she replied.

"That sounds concerning."

"It should."

The silence settled again, softer this time. Less empty.

Juhoon shifted slightly, trying to orient himself, but ended up closer to her instead of farther away. Their shoulders almost touched.

He stopped.

So did she.

Neither moved away.

"...This is kind of awkward," he muttered.

"It's a convenience store blackout at two in the morning," she said. "If it wasn't awkward, I'd be worried."

That earned a quiet breath of laughter from him again, though it came out softer this time.

In the dim light, he could see her turning her head slightly toward him.

"You know," she said after a beat, "you talk like someone who's used to being around people."

He blinked.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

A pause.

"But not like someone who actually gets to choose who they're around."

That one landed differently.

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he leaned lightly against the shelf behind him, careful not to knock anything over this time.

"...I guess that's accurate."

Y/N hummed softly, like she was filing that away somewhere.

"What about you?" he asked after a moment.

A brief pause.

Then, "What about me?"

"You don't really talk like someone who hates people," he said. "Just someone who avoids them."

There was a short silence.

Not defensive. Just thoughtful.

"...Yeah," she admitted. "That sounds about right."

Juhoon tilted his head slightly, even though he could barely see her.

"Why?"

Another pause stretched between them, longer this time.

When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

"I don't really like meeting new people."

"That's it?"

"It's easier," she said simply. "No expectations. No explanations. No... getting attached to things that leave."

The last part hung in the air a little longer than the rest.

Juhoon didn't interrupt it.

Instead, he shifted slightly closer without thinking about it, as if the darkness had quietly rearranged their distance.

"...Do you hate relationships too?" he asked carefully.

A soft exhale.

"No."

A beat.

"I just haven't had one in a long time."

"Why not?"

There was a faint rustle, like she leaned against a shelf.

"I don't really meet people I want to keep around," she said. "And when I do... I don't usually stay long enough for it to matter."

Juhoon stayed quiet for a moment.

Then, unexpectedly honest, he said, "Same."

That got her attention.

"You?"

He nodded, then remembered she probably couldn't see it.

"Yeah. I don't really meet people outside of work. Or schedules. And when I do... I'm usually too busy to actually stay."

A small pause.

Then Y/N let out something between a scoff and a laugh.

"...So what are you, a ghost with a calendar?"

"Something like that."

That made her laugh properly this time, brief but real.

In the dim green glow, the sound felt warmer than it should have.

After a moment, she spoke again.

"I don't have many friends either."

Juhoon turned his head slightly toward her voice.

"Yeah?"

"Not really. People don't stick around long when you don't exactly... try to keep them."

He nodded slowly.

"I have like four," he said.

That made her pause.

"That's oddly specific."

He shrugged, then realized she couldn't see that either.

"My group. We've been together a while."

A faint curiosity entered her voice.

"And that's it?"

"Pretty much," he admitted. "I talk to them most days. Outside of that... not much."

She hummed again.

"Sounds lonely."

He considered that.

Then answered honestly.

"It doesn't feel like it. Not usually."

A pause.

Then, quieter, "What about you?"

She leaned back slightly, and he could just make out the outline of her head turning toward him.

"...I think I forgot what it feels like to actually let someone stay," she said.

Juhoon didn't respond right away.

Not because he didn't know what to say.

But because for the first time that night, the silence between them didn't feel like emptiness.

It felt like something suspended.

Careful.

Fragile.

Real.

Somewhere deeper inside the store, a faint electrical click sounded.

Then another.

The lights flickered once more, weaker this time, as if the building itself was hesitating before deciding whether to come back to life.

Neither of them moved apart.

The flicker came like a hesitant breath.

Once.

Twice.

Then the fluorescent lights stuttered back to life, spilling over the aisles in a harsh white wash that made everything feel suddenly too real again. The shelves snapped back into full color. The humming refrigerators regained their steady, familiar rhythm.

And just like that, the moment dissolved.

Juhoon blinked against the brightness, instinctively stepping back from where he stood.

Y/N did the same, almost in sync.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

The store was the same store again. Clean lines. Bright light. Endless aisles pretending nothing strange had just happened.

But something between them didn't reset so easily.

Juhoon cleared his throat lightly, looking anywhere but directly at her.

"...Power must've just tripped."

"Yeah," Y/N said, already bending down to pick up the box cutter she had dropped. Her voice was normal again. Too normal, like she had tucked everything from the dark away into a drawer and closed it firmly. "Old wiring. Happens sometimes."

"Right."

He nodded once, as if that settled it.

It didn't.

They drifted back into movement without discussion. Familiar motions. Automatic now. Boxes opened. Shelves corrected. Items aligned with quiet precision.

But the rhythm had shifted.

Subtle. Invisible. The kind of change you only notice because something you can't name is missing.

Juhoon reached for a stack of drinks. His hand hesitated for half a second before placing them down more carefully than before. Y/N adjusted a display, then paused, watching him like she was recalibrating something in her mind.

Neither mentioned the blackout again.

Still...

Every so often, their movements would pause at the same time.

A shared silence that almost, but not quite, turned into something else.

Eventually, the work thinned out. The store looked too organized now, like it had been overcorrected into perfection. Even the chaos they had created earlier had been cleaned away.

Y/N leaned against the counter, exhaling slowly.

"That's probably enough pretending to be useful."

Juhoon set down the last empty box.

"I was starting to feel like a real employee."

"You lasted longer than most."

"I'll put that on my résumé."

"You shouldn't."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The clock above the register ticked forward with cruel patience.

3:48 a.m.

Still dark outside. Still locked in. Still hours left before anyone would even notice anything was wrong.

But the energy had softened.

Not tired exactly.

Just quieter in a different way.

Juhoon leaned against the counter opposite her, glancing toward the shuttered entrance.

"...It feels different now."

Y/N tilted her head slightly.

"Because of the blackout?"

"Yeah. And... everything before that."

She didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she tapped her fingers once against the counter, thoughtful.

"...Weird things feel bigger when there's nothing else happening around them," she said.

He looked at her.

"You say that like you've experienced a lot of weird things."

"I work retail," she replied flatly.

That got a short laugh out of him again.

A pause stretched between them.

Then, unexpectedly, Juhoon spoke again.

"You were serious earlier, right?"

Y/N glanced up.

"About what?"

"Not really letting people stay."

Her fingers stopped tapping.

For a second, the store felt like it had leaned in closer.

"...Yeah," she said finally. "I don't really do... keeping people around."

Juhoon nodded slowly, like he was turning the idea over carefully instead of reacting to it.

"I think I get it," he said. "Not fully. But... I get the shape of it."

She gave him a sideways look.

"That sounds dangerously philosophical for a guy who got locked in a convenience store."

"I have range."

"Debatable."

He smiled.

Then, after a beat, he added,

"But I don't think it has to stay that way."

Y/N raised an eyebrow slightly.

"What, you're going to fix me in four hours?"

"I didn't say that."

"Good. Because that would be weird."

"I said I don't think it has to stay that way," he corrected, more quietly now.

She studied him for a moment.

Not suspicious. Not defensive.

Just... reading.

Then she shrugged.

"We'll see."

That was her version of agreement, apparently.

The silence that followed wasn't heavy anymore. It just existed, like a shared space they had learned how to stand inside without stepping on anything fragile.

Juhoon glanced toward the drink fridge, then back at her.

"What about you, then?"

Y/N frowned slightly.

"What about me?"

"You said you don't really meet people you want to keep around."

"Yeah."

He hesitated for half a second, then continued.

"And today?"

That made her pause.

Longer this time.

Her eyes drifted briefly toward the aisle they had been working in earlier, like she could still see the version of them that existed in the dark.

"...Today is an exception," she said.

Juhoon blinked.

"That sounds very official."

"It is."

"Does it come with paperwork?"

"It comes with poor life decisions."

He laughed softly.

Y/N pushed off the counter, stretching slightly.

"Don't overthink it."

"I'm not overthinking it."

"You are absolutely overthinking it."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"...Maybe a little."

That earned her a faint, almost invisible smirk.

Outside, the sky hadn't changed much. Still black. Still holding the night in place like it didn't want to give it up yet.

Inside, the store felt warmer than it had any right to.

Not in temperature.

In presence.

Juhoon checked the clock again.

4:12 a.m.

Closer now.

Too close to morning to still feel like night, but too early for anything to make sense.

He pushed himself off the counter.

"So what happens when your coworker finally comes back?"

Y/N shrugged.

"I get yelled at."

"That's it?"

"I might also lose my dignity."

"You have dignity?"

"Minimal. But yes."

He smiled.

"Sounds like a fair trade for getting trapped with me."

She looked at him.

For a second, she didn't respond.

Then, lightly:

"I haven't decided if it was a fair trade yet."

He nodded solemnly.

"Let me know before I leave. I'd like to prepare emotionally."

"I'll send you a review later."

"Five stars?"

"Two. You stocked ramen incorrectly."

He gasped.

"That's biased."

"It's accurate."

And somehow, that was enough to bring the moment back to something lighter again.

They drifted apart slightly after that, but not far. Just enough to move without bumping into each other. Enough to pretend they weren't quietly adjusting to the fact that the night had changed shape around them.

But every so often, Juhoon would glance toward her when she wasn't looking.

And every so often, she would catch him.

Neither called it out.

Neither needed to.

Outside, the first hint of morning hadn't arrived yet.

But something inside the store already felt like it was on its way there.

Dawn arrived like it had been waiting outside the glass the whole time, pressing its pale forehead against the horizon until the night finally gave in.

The convenience store doors slid open with a soft chime that now felt almost unreal, like it belonged to another version of the world.

Juhoon stepped out first.

The air outside was colder than he remembered.

Behind him, Y/N gave a small wave without looking up from the last stack of boxes they had somehow finished organizing right before sunrise.

"Don't come back as a customer," she said.

He glanced back at her, still half-laughing from something she had said minutes ago.

"I'll try not to get trapped in retail again."

"No promises?"

"No promises."

That earned him a faint look that might've been amusement, or maybe just exhaustion disguised as it.

Then the shuttered store swallowed her again when she turned away, and the moment snapped shut behind them like a book closing too quickly.

Just minutes after, the hotel lobby was brighter than it had any right to be.

Juhoon barely made it past the entrance before his manager's voice cut through him like a spotlight.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Juhoon blinked.

He opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

Behind him, one of the staff members tried not to smile.

His manager continued anyway, arms already folded into full lecture mode.

"We were about to call security. Do you understand how irresponsible it is to leave without telling anyone? At this hour? In a foreign city?"

Juhoon rubbed the back of his neck, still slightly disoriented from fluorescent lights and ramen steam and... everything that had happened between them.

"I went for a walk."

"A walk."

"Yes."

"At one in the morning."

"...Yes."

That did it.

A second staff member made a noise that was suspiciously close to laughter.

His manager exhaled through their nose like they were rethinking every life decision that led them here.

"And where exactly did this walk take you?"

Juhoon hesitated.

A convenience store.

A locked convenience store.

A convenience store with a girl who treated chaos like a hobby and stocked ramen like it was a philosophical statement.

"I... got locked in somewhere."

Silence.

Then someone behind the counter coughed to hide a laugh.

His manager stared at him.

"You what."

"It wasn't on purpose."

That only made it worse.

By the time he finished explaining, badly, in fragments that somehow made the story sound even more unbelievable than it actually was, the lobby had fully given up pretending this was a normal situation.

"You were locked inside a convenience store."

"Yes."

"For hours."

"Yes."

"And you stocked shelves."

"...Yes."

There was a pause.

Then one of the staff members finally lost the fight and laughed openly.

"Oh my god."

Juhoon buried his face in his hands for half a second.

His manager pinched the bridge of their nose.

"I am not even going to ask."

From the side, someone muttered, "This is going to be a great story for the group chat."

Juhoon lifted his head immediately.

"No."

Too late.

It was already happening.

By morning, the story had been downgraded from "serious missing incident risk" to "idol accidentally becomes retail worker at 2 a.m."

Someone in the hotel definitely told someone else.

And by noon, Juhoon had received at least three variations of:

"Did you survive your part-time job arc?"

He did not dignify any of them with proper responses.

But every time his phone buzzed, he remembered fluorescent lights flickering back on, and a voice in the dark saying she had already tried breaking the door.

And somehow that made it worse.

Across the city, Y/N slept like someone who had negotiated peace with reality and won.

At least until noon.

The shouting started before she even fully opened her eyes.

"Y/N!"

Her sister's voice came from somewhere far too close.

Then louder.

"Y/N, wake up!"

A pillow hit her face.

She groaned, rolling over.

"What."

"You're going to want to see this."

"I don't."

"Yes you do."

A pause.

Something in her brain reluctantly decided that the volume level suggested emergency conditions, so she got up.

Bare feet on the floor. Half-awake irritation. Hair doing whatever it wanted.

She walked into her sister's room expecting something broken.

Or on fire.

Or both.

Instead, her sister was sitting cross-legged on the bed, holding something like it was sacred.

A photocard.

Y/N squinted.

"...Is that why you woke me up."

Her sister ignored the tone entirely.

"Look."

She held it up.

Y/N leaned closer out of reflex more than interest.

A boy.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

Her brain paused.

Then caught up.

That face.

The hoodie. The expression. The ridiculous timing of everything he said like he had never once been allowed to lose an argument in his life.

Juhoon.

Except... not Juhoon from last night in a locked convenience store.

Juhoon from somewhere else.

Cleaner. Printed. Official.

Her sister was practically vibrating.

"I got it in the new album!"

"...Album?"

"Yeah, from Cortis! I finally pulled him!"

Y/N stared.

The photocard stared back.

Her brain tried to reconcile convenience store ramen boy with glossy idol card boy and failed spectacularly.

Her sister tilted her head.

"What's wrong? You don't like him?"

Y/N blinked once.

Then her face reset into something dangerously neutral.

"No."

A beat.

She pointed at the card.

"He just looks... kind of dumb in that picture."

Her sister gasped.

"That's your bias talking!"

"I don't have a bias."

"You literally just judged his face."

"I'm observant."

Her sister narrowed her eyes.

Y/N took one last look at the photocard.

Same eyes.

Same mouth.

Same presence that had somehow turned a locked store into something that felt like it bent time around it.

Nothing about him matched the version she had known.

And that was exactly the problem.

She straightened up.

"Anyway."

She turned toward the door.

"Keep it."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Coffee."

Her sister frowned.

"It's noon."

"Exactly."

And she walked out before any more questions could form.

Behind her, the photocard stayed on the bed.

Smiling in printed silence.

As if nothing at all unusual had ever happened.

And somewhere in another part of the city, Juhoon probably still wasn't going to hear the end of it.

ॱ   *  ۪      ❤︎ᮬႚ  . 　*    ۪  ♡゚   *    ۪  ♡゚ႚ ۪    *  ۪      ❤︎ᮬႚ  .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝗉revious

II. (chapter) ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ two & final ͏͏ ͏: Before You

Juhoon set his chopsticks down for a moment.

"So..."

Y/N looked up from her ramen.

"Hm?"

"You never asked what I do."

She shrugged.

"Didn't really feel important."

"Really?"

"If we were going to spend the rest of our lives trapped in here? Sure."

She took another bite.

"But we've only got, what... three hours left?"

"...Four."

"See?"

He let out a quiet laugh.

"You're a difficult person."

"I've been called worse."

He rested an elbow on the table.

"So."

She looked at him expectantly.

"What do you think I do?"

Y/N studied him with exaggerated concentration, her eyes traveling from his hoodie to his shoes before returning to his face.

"Hm..."

She tapped her chopsticks against the rim of her cup.

"You definitely don't work retail."

"...How can you tell?"

"You still have hope in your eyes."

Juhoon laughed, nearly dropping his chopsticks.

"That's... harsh."

"It's accurate."

She pointed at him.

"Your turn."

"My turn?"

"Guess mine."

He looked at the employee vest she was still wearing.

"...Convenience store employee."

She stared at him for a second.

"...You're terrible at this."

"I panicked."

A snort escaped her.

"Try again."

He thought for a moment.

"...College student."

"Part-time convenience store employee."

She nodded once.

"See? That wasn't so hard."

He smiled.

"I got lucky."

"You did."

She leaned back in her chair.

"But you..."

Her eyes narrowed again.

"I can't figure you out."

"Oh?"

"You don't look like an office worker."

"...No."

"You don't look like someone who does manual labor either."

"No."

She frowned dramatically.

"...Just don't tell me you're an idol."

For the briefest moment...

Juhoon's smile froze.

"...Why?"

Y/N shrugged.

"Nothing personal."

She stirred her ramen absentmindedly.

"I like music."

Another shrug.

"I just don't really get why people act like idols are perfect."

Juhoon stayed quiet.

"They smile all the time."

She rested her chin in her hand.

"They're always polite."

"They always say the right thing."

She scoffed softly.

"Nobody's actually like that."

Juhoon looked down at the steam rising from his cup.

"...Yeah."

"It sounds exhausting."

He didn't answer right away.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"...I think it probably is."

Y/N simply nodded, completely unaware that she'd just described the person sitting across from her.

The empty ramen cups ended up stacked neatly on top of each other before Y/N tossed them into the trash near the employee counter.

Neither of them moved for a few seconds afterward.

There wasn't much of a reason to.

Outside, the city remained wrapped in darkness, the occasional headlights sweeping across the metal shutter before disappearing just as quickly. The rain had started again sometime during dinner, soft enough that it barely made a sound against the windows.

Inside, everything stayed exactly the same.

The steady buzz of fluorescent lights.

The hum of refrigerators lining the back wall.

The faint smell of coffee and instant noodles lingering in the warm air.

Juhoon glanced at the clock.

2:07 a.m.

Still hours to go.

"...Guess we should get back to work," he muttered.

Y/N looked over.

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to accept your fate."

"I accepted it an hour ago."

"Liar."

She pushed herself out of her chair, stretching until her shoulders gave a quiet pop before grabbing another unopened box from behind the counter.

"Come on."

He sighed dramatically as he stood.

"I can't believe I'm volunteering for unpaid labor."

"You're not volunteering."

She handed him the box.

"You're being exploited."

"...Somehow that's less comforting."

"It should be."

The next hour passed in an oddly comfortable rhythm.

One of them would open a box.

The other would stock the shelves.

Sometimes they'd switch without saying anything.

Sometimes Juhoon would place something in the wrong spot, and Y/N would silently move it back the second he walked away.

He noticed every single time.

"You know I can see you doing that, right?"

"I'm fixing your mistakes."

"They're artistic choices."

"They're inventory violations."

He clicked his tongue.

"I feel judged."

"You should."

At one point she caught him lining up bottles by color instead of brand.

She stared.

"...What are you doing?"

"It looks nicer."

"It looks unemployed."

He laughed so hard he nearly dropped the entire case of sports drinks.

The longer they stayed trapped inside the store, the stranger the situation became.

Not stranger in a bad way.

Just... normal.

As though stocking shelves with someone you'd met barely two hours earlier was something people did every Tuesday night.

The awkwardness had disappeared somewhere between organizing the snack aisle and arguing over whether pineapple-flavored candy should legally exist.

Conversation came and went naturally now.

Sometimes lasting only a sentence.

Sometimes disappearing completely for several minutes while they worked side by side.

Neither seemed bothered by the silence anymore.

It no longer felt like the silence between strangers.

More like the quiet that settled between people who had grown unexpectedly comfortable in each other's company.

By the time they finished reorganizing the drink refrigerators, another pile of flattened cardboard boxes had formed near the storage room.

Juhoon picked up the stack, balancing it awkwardly against his chest as they headed toward the back together.

Halfway there, his eyes drifted toward Y/N.

She never checked her phone.

Never reached into a pocket to look at the time.

Never absentmindedly glanced at a notification.

Thinking back on it...

She hadn't touched one all night.

He'd assumed it was because she'd been working.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Once they dropped the boxes beside the storage door, curiosity got the better of him.

"...Can I ask you something?"

She looked up from the box she was flattening.

"You just did."

"You know what I mean."

"I do."

She rested the cardboard against the wall before dusting her hands together.

"So ask."

"...Earlier."

He nodded toward the pocket of her hoodie.

"You really don't have a phone?"

Y/N shrugged.

"Not anymore."

"You never replaced it?"

"No money."

He frowned slightly.

"What happened to the old one?"

She was quiet for a second.

Then, as casually as if she were commenting on the weather, she answered,

"A girl smashed it."

Juhoon blinked.

"...Smashed it?"

"Against the floor."

"...Why?"

"She was annoying."

He gave her a look.

"...I don't think that's how the story started."

"It wasn't."

The corner of her mouth twitched.

"She kept talking trash."

"And?"

"I told her to shut up."

"And then?"

"...Then we fought."

Juhoon couldn't help raising an eyebrow.

"You get into fights often?"

She tilted her head, pretending to think.

"...Often enough."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"I appreciate the honesty."

"My parents don't."

She leaned back against one of the shelves, folding her arms.

"They figured that if I was going to keep acting like a problem..."

She gestured vaguely around the convenience store.

"...I could earn my own money."

"So this job..."

"...Is my punishment."

She shrugged again.

"They said if I wanted another phone, I'd buy it myself."

Juhoon glanced around the brightly lit store.

"That's... rough."

"It could be worse."

"How?"

"They could've made me work mornings."

He laughed.

"You really don't take anything seriously, do you?"

"I do."

Her smile softened, just enough to notice.

"I just don't like looking like I care."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Juhoon realized that was probably the most honest thing she'd said all night.

And somehow...

He believed it.

The silence that followed didn't feel uncomfortable.

It settled naturally between them as Y/N bent down to grab another unopened box from the floor.

She sliced through the tape with the small box cutter tucked into her apron, folded the flaps open, then nudged the box toward him with the toe of her sneaker.

"There."

Juhoon looked inside.

"...Ramen again?"

"The universe has decided you're the ramen guy."

"I was hoping for a promotion."

"You've actually been demoted."

"...I didn't even know that was possible."

"It is when you keep stocking them backwards."

He sighed with theatrical disappointment before picking up the first cup.

This time, he stopped to check the label.

Made sure it was facing the right direction.

Then carefully placed it on the shelf.

He stepped back with an exaggerated look of satisfaction.

"There."

Y/N glanced over.

A beat passed.

"...Not bad."

His head turned so fast she almost laughed.

"...Was that a compliment?"

"I wouldn't get used to it."

"I knew there was a catch."

She walked past him, adjusting one cup less than an inch to the left.

"There."

He stared at it.

"You moved it."

"I improved it."

"You moved it."

"I perfected it."

He let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head as she continued down the aisle with the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Without either of them noticing...

The store had stopped feeling like a place they were trapped in.

It had quietly become a place where the night was passing far too quickly.

Juhoon stood there a moment longer than necessary, staring at the cup he had just placed so carefully, as if it might suddenly rebel and tilt itself out of alignment out of spite.

Y/N walked past him without comment, but the faintest trace of amusement lingered in the way she adjusted the next stack of noodles. Not a smile exactly. More like the idea of one, briefly passing through.

They fell back into work again, the kind of rhythm that didn't ask for permission. Boxes opened. Shelves filled. Time blurred at the edges until it stopped feeling like something you measured and started feeling like something you moved through.

At some point, Juhoon realized he had stopped thinking about the clock altogether.

That alone felt strange.

He had lived by schedules for so long that even silence usually came with an internal countdown. But here, between fluorescent hums and the soft rustle of cardboard, time was behaving differently. Less like a ruler. More like water slipping between fingers.

Y/N crouched near the lower shelves, tossing empty packaging into a growing pile. Juhoon worked a few steps away, but their movements kept overlapping in small, accidental ways. A box passed too close. A shoulder brushed lightly when they reached for the same item. Neither of them moved away quickly anymore.

That fact, somehow, felt louder than anything they had actually said.

Then it happened without warning.

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

The refrigerators gave a low, uncertain hum, like something waking up confused. Y/N paused mid-motion, a box cutter still in her hand.

Juhoon looked up.

"...Did you see that?"

Before she could answer, everything died.

The fluorescent lights shut off at once, plunging the store into a thick, unfamiliar dark.

The silence that followed wasn't the same kind they had grown used to.

This one had weight.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Only the emergency exit sign glowed faintly at the far end of the store, painting the aisles in a dim green haze that made everything look half real, half memory.

"...Well," Y/N's voice cut through the dark, steady as ever. "That's new."

Juhoon exhaled slowly.

"...Is this normal?"

"No."

A pause.

"But it's also not surprising."

He let out a quiet, slightly disbelieving laugh.

"That's not reassuring."

"It's not meant to be."

Somewhere in the dark, there was the soft sound of something shifting. Then a faint thud. Juhoon turned instinctively, but it was hard to tell where anything was anymore.

"...Y/N?"

"Still here."

Her voice was closer than before.

Too close, actually.

He took a careful step back and immediately bumped into a shelf. A few items rattled softly, threatening to fall.

"Ow."

"Careful," she said, closer again, and then there was a brief pause. "Don't move too much. You're terrible at navigating in daylight. This is worse."

"Hey."

A faint sound that might have been a laugh escaped her.

"Relax. I'm right here."

Another step, and suddenly they were close enough that he could make out her silhouette in the green glow. She had moved without announcing it, as if the dark didn't matter at all.

He blinked.

"...You're really calm about this."

"I've had practice," she replied.

"That sounds concerning."

"It should."

The silence settled again, softer this time. Less empty.

Juhoon shifted slightly, trying to orient himself, but ended up closer to her instead of farther away. Their shoulders almost touched.

He stopped.

So did she.

Neither moved away.

"...This is kind of awkward," he muttered.

"It's a convenience store blackout at two in the morning," she said. "If it wasn't awkward, I'd be worried."

That earned a quiet breath of laughter from him again, though it came out softer this time.

In the dim light, he could see her turning her head slightly toward him.

"You know," she said after a beat, "you talk like someone who's used to being around people."

He blinked.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

A pause.

"But not like someone who actually gets to choose who they're around."

That one landed differently.

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he leaned lightly against the shelf behind him, careful not to knock anything over this time.

"...I guess that's accurate."

Y/N hummed softly, like she was filing that away somewhere.

"What about you?" he asked after a moment.

A brief pause.

Then, "What about me?"

"You don't really talk like someone who hates people," he said. "Just someone who avoids them."

There was a short silence.

Not defensive. Just thoughtful.

"...Yeah," she admitted. "That sounds about right."

Juhoon tilted his head slightly, even though he could barely see her.

"Why?"

Another pause stretched between them, longer this time.

When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

"I don't really like meeting new people."

"That's it?"

"It's easier," she said simply. "No expectations. No explanations. No... getting attached to things that leave."

The last part hung in the air a little longer than the rest.

Juhoon didn't interrupt it.

Instead, he shifted slightly closer without thinking about it, as if the darkness had quietly rearranged their distance.

"...Do you hate relationships too?" he asked carefully.

A soft exhale.

"No."

A beat.

"I just haven't had one in a long time."

"Why not?"

There was a faint rustle, like she leaned against a shelf.

"I don't really meet people I want to keep around," she said. "And when I do... I don't usually stay long enough for it to matter."

Juhoon stayed quiet for a moment.

Then, unexpectedly honest, he said, "Same."

That got her attention.

"You?"

He nodded, then remembered she probably couldn't see it.

"Yeah. I don't really meet people outside of work. Or schedules. And when I do... I'm usually too busy to actually stay."

A small pause.

Then Y/N let out something between a scoff and a laugh.

"...So what are you, a ghost with a calendar?"

"Something like that."

That made her laugh properly this time, brief but real.

In the dim green glow, the sound felt warmer than it should have.

After a moment, she spoke again.

"I don't have many friends either."

Juhoon turned his head slightly toward her voice.

"Yeah?"

"Not really. People don't stick around long when you don't exactly... try to keep them."

He nodded slowly.

"I have like four," he said.

That made her pause.

"That's oddly specific."

He shrugged, then realized she couldn't see that either.

"My group. We've been together a while."

A faint curiosity entered her voice.

"And that's it?"

"Pretty much," he admitted. "I talk to them most days. Outside of that... not much."

She hummed again.

"Sounds lonely."

He considered that.

Then answered honestly.

"It doesn't feel like it. Not usually."

A pause.

Then, quieter, "What about you?"

She leaned back slightly, and he could just make out the outline of her head turning toward him.

"...I think I forgot what it feels like to actually let someone stay," she said.

Juhoon didn't respond right away.

Not because he didn't know what to say.

But because for the first time that night, the silence between them didn't feel like emptiness.

It felt like something suspended.

Careful.

Fragile.

Real.

Somewhere deeper inside the store, a faint electrical click sounded.

Then another.

The lights flickered once more, weaker this time, as if the building itself was hesitating before deciding whether to come back to life.

Neither of them moved apart.

The flicker came like a hesitant breath.

Once.

Twice.

Then the fluorescent lights stuttered back to life, spilling over the aisles in a harsh white wash that made everything feel suddenly too real again. The shelves snapped back into full color. The humming refrigerators regained their steady, familiar rhythm.

And just like that, the moment dissolved.

Juhoon blinked against the brightness, instinctively stepping back from where he stood.

Y/N did the same, almost in sync.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

The store was the same store again. Clean lines. Bright light. Endless aisles pretending nothing strange had just happened.

But something between them didn't reset so easily.

Juhoon cleared his throat lightly, looking anywhere but directly at her.

"...Power must've just tripped."

"Yeah," Y/N said, already bending down to pick up the box cutter she had dropped. Her voice was normal again. Too normal, like she had tucked everything from the dark away into a drawer and closed it firmly. "Old wiring. Happens sometimes."

"Right."

He nodded once, as if that settled it.

It didn't.

They drifted back into movement without discussion. Familiar motions. Automatic now. Boxes opened. Shelves corrected. Items aligned with quiet precision.

But the rhythm had shifted.

Subtle. Invisible. The kind of change you only notice because something you can't name is missing.

Juhoon reached for a stack of drinks. His hand hesitated for half a second before placing them down more carefully than before. Y/N adjusted a display, then paused, watching him like she was recalibrating something in her mind.

Neither mentioned the blackout again.

Still...

Every so often, their movements would pause at the same time.

A shared silence that almost, but not quite, turned into something else.

Eventually, the work thinned out. The store looked too organized now, like it had been overcorrected into perfection. Even the chaos they had created earlier had been cleaned away.

Y/N leaned against the counter, exhaling slowly.

"That's probably enough pretending to be useful."

Juhoon set down the last empty box.

"I was starting to feel like a real employee."

"You lasted longer than most."

"I'll put that on my résumé."

"You shouldn't."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The clock above the register ticked forward with cruel patience.

3:48 a.m.

Still dark outside. Still locked in. Still hours left before anyone would even notice anything was wrong.

But the energy had softened.

Not tired exactly.

Just quieter in a different way.

Juhoon leaned against the counter opposite her, glancing toward the shuttered entrance.

"...It feels different now."

Y/N tilted her head slightly.

"Because of the blackout?"

"Yeah. And... everything before that."

She didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she tapped her fingers once against the counter, thoughtful.

"...Weird things feel bigger when there's nothing else happening around them," she said.

He looked at her.

"You say that like you've experienced a lot of weird things."

"I work retail," she replied flatly.

That got a short laugh out of him again.

A pause stretched between them.

Then, unexpectedly, Juhoon spoke again.

"You were serious earlier, right?"

Y/N glanced up.

"About what?"

"Not really letting people stay."

Her fingers stopped tapping.

For a second, the store felt like it had leaned in closer.

"...Yeah," she said finally. "I don't really do... keeping people around."

Juhoon nodded slowly, like he was turning the idea over carefully instead of reacting to it.

"I think I get it," he said. "Not fully. But... I get the shape of it."

She gave him a sideways look.

"That sounds dangerously philosophical for a guy who got locked in a convenience store."

"I have range."

"Debatable."

He smiled.

Then, after a beat, he added,

"But I don't think it has to stay that way."

Y/N raised an eyebrow slightly.

"What, you're going to fix me in four hours?"

"I didn't say that."

"Good. Because that would be weird."

"I said I don't think it has to stay that way," he corrected, more quietly now.

She studied him for a moment.

Not suspicious. Not defensive.

Just... reading.

Then she shrugged.

"We'll see."

That was her version of agreement, apparently.

The silence that followed wasn't heavy anymore. It just existed, like a shared space they had learned how to stand inside without stepping on anything fragile.

Juhoon glanced toward the drink fridge, then back at her.

"What about you, then?"

Y/N frowned slightly.

"What about me?"

"You said you don't really meet people you want to keep around."

"Yeah."

He hesitated for half a second, then continued.

"And today?"

That made her pause.

Longer this time.

Her eyes drifted briefly toward the aisle they had been working in earlier, like she could still see the version of them that existed in the dark.

"...Today is an exception," she said.

Juhoon blinked.

"That sounds very official."

"It is."

"Does it come with paperwork?"

"It comes with poor life decisions."

He laughed softly.

Y/N pushed off the counter, stretching slightly.

"Don't overthink it."

"I'm not overthinking it."

"You are absolutely overthinking it."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"...Maybe a little."

That earned her a faint, almost invisible smirk.

Outside, the sky hadn't changed much. Still black. Still holding the night in place like it didn't want to give it up yet.

Inside, the store felt warmer than it had any right to.

Not in temperature.

In presence.

Juhoon checked the clock again.

4:12 a.m.

Closer now.

Too close to morning to still feel like night, but too early for anything to make sense.

He pushed himself off the counter.

"So what happens when your coworker finally comes back?"

Y/N shrugged.

"I get yelled at."

"That's it?"

"I might also lose my dignity."

"You have dignity?"

"Minimal. But yes."

He smiled.

"Sounds like a fair trade for getting trapped with me."

She looked at him.

For a second, she didn't respond.

Then, lightly:

"I haven't decided if it was a fair trade yet."

He nodded solemnly.

"Let me know before I leave. I'd like to prepare emotionally."

"I'll send you a review later."

"Five stars?"

"Two. You stocked ramen incorrectly."

He gasped.

"That's biased."

"It's accurate."

And somehow, that was enough to bring the moment back to something lighter again.

They drifted apart slightly after that, but not far. Just enough to move without bumping into each other. Enough to pretend they weren't quietly adjusting to the fact that the night had changed shape around them.

But every so often, Juhoon would glance toward her when she wasn't looking.

And every so often, she would catch him.

Neither called it out.

Neither needed to.

Outside, the first hint of morning hadn't arrived yet.

But something inside the store already felt like it was on its way there.

Dawn arrived like it had been waiting outside the glass the whole time, pressing its pale forehead against the horizon until the night finally gave in.

The convenience store doors slid open with a soft chime that now felt almost unreal, like it belonged to another version of the world.

Juhoon stepped out first.

The air outside was colder than he remembered.

Behind him, Y/N gave a small wave without looking up from the last stack of boxes they had somehow finished organizing right before sunrise.

"Don't come back as a customer," she said.

He glanced back at her, still half-laughing from something she had said minutes ago.

"I'll try not to get trapped in retail again."

"No promises?"

"No promises."

That earned him a faint look that might've been amusement, or maybe just exhaustion disguised as it.

Then the shuttered store swallowed her again when she turned away, and the moment snapped shut behind them like a book closing too quickly.

Just minutes after, the hotel lobby was brighter than it had any right to be.

Juhoon barely made it past the entrance before his manager's voice cut through him like a spotlight.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Juhoon blinked.

He opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

Behind him, one of the staff members tried not to smile.

His manager continued anyway, arms already folded into full lecture mode.

"We were about to call security. Do you understand how irresponsible it is to leave without telling anyone? At this hour? In a foreign city?"

Juhoon rubbed the back of his neck, still slightly disoriented from fluorescent lights and ramen steam and... everything that had happened between them.

"I went for a walk."

"A walk."

"Yes."

"At one in the morning."

"...Yes."

That did it.

A second staff member made a noise that was suspiciously close to laughter.

His manager exhaled through their nose like they were rethinking every life decision that led them here.

"And where exactly did this walk take you?"

Juhoon hesitated.

A convenience store.

A locked convenience store.

A convenience store with a girl who treated chaos like a hobby and stocked ramen like it was a philosophical statement.

"I... got locked in somewhere."

Silence.

Then someone behind the counter coughed to hide a laugh.

His manager stared at him.

"You what."

"It wasn't on purpose."

That only made it worse.

By the time he finished explaining, badly, in fragments that somehow made the story sound even more unbelievable than it actually was, the lobby had fully given up pretending this was a normal situation.

"You were locked inside a convenience store."

"Yes."

"For hours."

"Yes."

"And you stocked shelves."

"...Yes."

There was a pause.

Then one of the staff members finally lost the fight and laughed openly.

"Oh my god."

Juhoon buried his face in his hands for half a second.

His manager pinched the bridge of their nose.

"I am not even going to ask."

From the side, someone muttered, "This is going to be a great story for the group chat."

Juhoon lifted his head immediately.

"No."

Too late.

It was already happening.

By morning, the story had been downgraded from "serious missing incident risk" to "idol accidentally becomes retail worker at 2 a.m."

Someone in the hotel definitely told someone else.

And by noon, Juhoon had received at least three variations of:

"Did you survive your part-time job arc?"

He did not dignify any of them with proper responses.

But every time his phone buzzed, he remembered fluorescent lights flickering back on, and a voice in the dark saying she had already tried breaking the door.

And somehow that made it worse.

Across the city, Y/N slept like someone who had negotiated peace with reality and won.

At least until noon.

The shouting started before she even fully opened her eyes.

"Y/N!"

Her sister's voice came from somewhere far too close.

Then louder.

"Y/N, wake up!"

A pillow hit her face.

She groaned, rolling over.

"What."

"You're going to want to see this."

"I don't."

"Yes you do."

A pause.

Something in her brain reluctantly decided that the volume level suggested emergency conditions, so she got up.

Bare feet on the floor. Half-awake irritation. Hair doing whatever it wanted.

She walked into her sister's room expecting something broken.

Or on fire.

Or both.

Instead, her sister was sitting cross-legged on the bed, holding something like it was sacred.

A photocard.

Y/N squinted.

"...Is that why you woke me up."

Her sister ignored the tone entirely.

"Look."

She held it up.

Y/N leaned closer out of reflex more than interest.

A boy.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

Her brain paused.

Then caught up.

That face.

The hoodie. The expression. The ridiculous timing of everything he said like he had never once been allowed to lose an argument in his life.

Juhoon.

Except... not Juhoon from last night in a locked convenience store.

Juhoon from somewhere else.

Cleaner. Printed. Official.

Her sister was practically vibrating.

"I got it in the new album!"

"...Album?"

"Yeah, from Cortis! I finally pulled him!"

Y/N stared.

The photocard stared back.

Her brain tried to reconcile convenience store ramen boy with glossy idol card boy and failed spectacularly.

Her sister tilted her head.

"What's wrong? You don't like him?"

Y/N blinked once.

Then her face reset into something dangerously neutral.

"No."

A beat.

She pointed at the card.

"He just looks... kind of dumb in that picture."

Her sister gasped.

"That's your bias talking!"

"I don't have a bias."

"You literally just judged his face."

"I'm observant."

Her sister narrowed her eyes.

Y/N took one last look at the photocard.

Same eyes.

Same mouth.

Same presence that had somehow turned a locked store into something that felt like it bent time around it.

Nothing about him matched the version she had known.

And that was exactly the problem.

She straightened up.

"Anyway."

She turned toward the door.

"Keep it."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Coffee."

Her sister frowned.

"It's noon."

"Exactly."

And she walked out before any more questions could form.

Behind her, the photocard stayed on the bed.

Smiling in printed silence.

As if nothing at all unusual had ever happened.

And somewhere in another part of the city, Juhoon probably still wasn't going to hear the end of it.