come back home || k.sj

[back] vi.

[back] vi.

It takes Chanyeol long enough to finally put two and two together and realize the disappearance of your paychecks wasn't really a mystery at all and that you've been secretly slipping them into Yugyeom's pocket for over two weeks now.

He isn't too proud, just as Yugyeom feared, but he doesn't throw a bitch fit or fire anyone just yet. The manager sighs, casting a long, meaningful look at the two of you guiltily standing alongside each other. You hold his gaze without a falter when he addresses you.

"Look, I know you're not in for the money and would rather volunteer than get paid," he starts carefully, as if it pains him to be blunt. Chanyeol's newly dyed hair falls limply over his forehead as he attempts to run a tired hand through them. "But what you're doing in unethical, if not crazy. I get that you're being nice enough to help a student out, but think of Seulgi and Lisa. They're hardworking students too. Giving your checks over to someone else is unfair, you get me?"

Well, he has somewhat of a point. Yugyeom looks just about ready to hand over the three weeks' worth of cash and make a beeline for the entrance when you set a hand on his already tensed shoulder. He flinches under your touch.

"I understand, but I've been ditching lately so Yugyeom covers for me for more than half the week. Since he makes up for it, I thought it'd only be fair if I let him take what's rightfully his."

"Yeah, but a solid paycheck every week? Do you not keep track of how many hours you do yourself? Being honest here, he doesn't even cover enough for a full day. And if there were anyone here to decide whether Yugyeom gets a raise or not, it'd be me. Not you," Chanyeol meet your eye firmly. They're wider today, laced with sleep deprivation and powdered with bags underneath, but they still gleam under the fluorescent lights that someone should've turned off by now.

You suck in a breath. "Sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking."

"You clearly weren't. But no biggie. And no harm done. Although I had hoped you figured that much out before handing it over to him. I don't care how you use your salary," he remarks surly and slides off the vacant barstool. "As long as you don't take it for granted considering you're already swimming in it."

The shop closes after 9 pm, but Chan makes the staff stay over for another hour to discuss sales marketing trends, profits and whatnot. A meeting with the other manager he shared the store with has just finished, and all employees were dismissed after a while. Lalisa, Seulgi, Cheng Xiao, and even the guy who does nothing but mop over wet floors have left. Chanyeol had called in you two, and that was where Yugyeom decided he should've taken Drama instead of Pharmacy so he could pull off a legit heart attack in situations like these.

"By the way, you're due for a raise," Chanyeol gives Yugyeom a tight-lipped smile. "So don't go plucking others' checks, yeah?"

Before Yugyeom can defend himself, you abruptly interject, even swiping an arm over your coworker just in case. "Drop it. It's not his fault at all. I came up with the idea without his consent."

Chanyeol stays put and chooses not to push it. Giving you one last look, he breezes his way back into the office near the staff room. The atmosphere that was once thick with tension immediately dissipates into thin air.

Yugyeom exhales once he's gone. "God, finally. I thought that'd never end."

"It wasn't so bad. He didn't turn red or anything," you shrug, but even you have to admit that it was a tight situation. "He didn't even go Hitler mode on us."

"Shh, he's not in yet," Yugyeom hissed, eyes darting towards the manager's door. A silent minute later, he narrows his expression in slight disgust. Just slight.

You crack him a smile. "I'm still gonna give you my checks, you know that right?"

Yugyeom's making his way towards the counter to grab his messenger bag. He knows over a stack of grande cups, easily swoops down to gather them, and rises to glare at you. "Noona, don't."

"Don't worry, Chanyeol won't know a thing this time. I can cash them on my way home and give it to you afterwards," you suggest excitedly. "It'll be way easier."

"No," he repeats firmly. "I don't want it."

"Why not? It's helping you, isn't it? At least somewhat. I know it's not much but--" You trail off when he whirled around, facing you with flushed cheeks of what seems anger or embarrassment.

"I just--I don't want to look like a charity case, okay? I get it, I'm dirt poor but that doesn't mean I'm not financially stable."

"Shit, Yug, I didn't mean it like that at all," you amend weakly. He merely shakes his head in disbelief. "No, really. I thought I was doing you a favor."

"I'm not lying when I say you were. It helped a lot. I divided it for daily expenses and let me save up a bit more for bills, but it's fine. I don't want funds or whatever," Yugyeom wrings his hands impatiently and gazes forlornly over the counter where the cash register sits. "And once I get out of college and start things like internship and pharmacy school, I might have to move somewhere less expensive. I'm not sure yet, but Incheon offers a wide range of medical schools. Anyways, this is temporary."

You don't question any of his decisions. "Oh."

The response comes out more hurt than it should be. Though the more you think about it, the more you understand Yugyeom's situation. It sounds embarrassing to receive on his end, not to mention what Chanyeol had told him must've been the last straw.

Pushing it wasn't going to help. "Well, it was fun while it lasted, I guess."

Your coworker gives you the tiniest of smiles. "I'm sorry, Noona. You're an angel, but I can't accept them anymore."

You manage a small shrug in return, "Yeah, it's cool. I should've asked you first."

"Why don't you like, donate it somewhere? Like a charity or something. Or better yet, you should use it on Seokjin-ssi."

"And why would I do that?"

"'Cause you're his wife," Yugyeom cocks his head slightly. "I don't know, something couple-ish, like a gift or a meal. Save up and make him a buffet one day or get him something nice. Or if that's the case," he coughs delicately into his fist. "Buy some of his time."

"Nice suggestion," you send daggers at his shiteating grin across the room.

Because if that were possible, you would've paid for all of it years ago.

i feel like i need a beta reader/editor bc i get drunk and cant sniff out typos or rephrases or if i left out words, aka things i do a lot if im writing too fast. hmu homies