twelve

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CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

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❝ the fries ❞

· ·  ─────── · 𖥸·  ─────── · ·

"fucking— fuck."

"how many times do I have to tell you to stop cursing at the french fries? it's gives them a weird taste!"

slamming your palms down on the counter, you whipped your head around to face your coworker with a harsh sneer. "jin, how many times do I have to tell you that that's complete bullshit? me cursing has nothing to do with the how the goddamn fries end up tasting."

he made a sound of disbelief, cocking a hip as he crossed his arms over his chest. "oh yeah? tell that to all the customers that return the fries that you make."

"that's because we make shitty fries." you hissed, swinging your hands emphatically in reference to the entire establishment.

"you mean you make shitty fries."

gritting your teeth, you shoved a finger roughly into his chest. "your face makes shitty fries."

jin gasped loudly, splaying a protective hand over the place you'd jabbed. "how dare you."

you stuck your tongue out at him tauntingly.

"will you two please stop bickering?" your manager let out an exasperated sigh as he stepped past your fuming figures. "it's only your first day back and we've got customers—"

"fuck off, brad." you both snapped simultaneously.

brad sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat as he trudged away, bitterly grumbling something about 'never getting any goddamn respect' as he went.

you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.

you were so not in the mood to deal with one of brad's self-thrown pity parties or with jin being all up in your face about some stupid fries that would most likely taste like shit regardless of whether you curse at them or not.

you'd barely gotten any sleep, the guilt and concern plaguing your mind kept you up and restless until the ass crack of dawn.

the look he'd gotten on his face when you told him what he'd said— you couldn't get it out of your fucking head. it was tormenting you relentlessly. a part of you wanted to reach out to him, apologize or something (even if this time you quite literally –and quite surprisingly– had done nothing wrong) but you were also worried you'd say or do something stupid that would just make him feel worse.

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