“Yeah. Stings like crazy but that’s what I get for trying to cook for a date.” Sehun waves his bandaged middle finger in their face, “See?”

The cold countertop digs into his side as he holds loose conversation with his friend. Cal’s closing for the store tonight and Sehun is tagging along in hopes that they can have some late-night ventures. Outside, street lights and ads are glowing in reds and pinks, colors that will catch the attention of even the most drunken of people. 

Customers stroll in with a serious lack of concise pattern, most being well-dressed business men in need of beers or smokes to get the edge off. Sehun watches Cal work with lagged, robot-like intention, save for the snippets of conversation that never go past ‘How are you’s’. It’s almost midnight when the drummer stops saying anything at all unless it has something to do with the price tag. 

When the arms of the clock finally align at midnight, Sehun’s excitement peaks and he’s already bugging a seemingly exhausted Cal about the one thing that’s been rattling in his mind for the last two hours. Instinctively he wants to yell ‘COLLAB AT MY PLACE!’ but then his finger’s throbbing again and the bassist tucks that idea away for when the pain ceases. 

As Cal is locking the glass doors shut from the outside another idea comes to mind. Sehun’s looking cheeky as ever and he’s laughing at the same time when he’s finally able to say it aloud.