The Changtique Shoppe, 17 of 21
Title: The Changtique Shoppe
Pairings/Characters: Jaejoong/Changmin, Yunho/Heechul, Yoochun, Ryeowook, Kyuhyun, Leeteuk, Donghae, Junsu, G-Dragon,
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Changmin owns an antique shop. Jaejoong is an interior decorator. Ryeowook is a genius who bakes delicious cake.
A/N: Yeah, so this one kinda got away from me. I'll go hide now... (cross posted to AO3)
The Changtique Shoppe, Part 17
To say that Changmin was uncomfortable would be putting it lightly. He was downright miserable. The train was crowded, bodies pressing in around him on all sides, a teenage girl talking loudly on her cell phone to his right. Stale, hot air poured from the vent directly above him, parching his skin and blowing his hair into his eyes. It was so crowded that there was no way Changmin could maneuver his heavy wool coat off without elbowing someone in the face, so he had to stand there, feeling the sweat begin to bead beneath his sweater and then slide towards the small of his back, the heat only making his nausea worse.
To say that Changmin was angry would be a gross understatement. Changmin was livid. Not just at Jaejoong for stealing his wallet, although that was quite enough to start with; Changmin was mad at Ryeowook for giving out advice that had majorly backfired, mad at himself for giving an inch and getting himself dragged into a mile-long mess yet again, mad at the lecherous waiter for his shameless flirting, mad at Yoochun for being so fucking content all the time with his coffee and his notebooks and his sweatpants and his dramaless existence, mad at Heechul for being a gloating asshole about Changmin needing advice in the first place, mad at the baby starting to wail at the other end of the train car, mad at Jaejoong for not wearing a scarf in the fucking frigid weather, mad at the incompetent train staff imbeciles who were probably breaking five different fire regulations allowing this many fucking people onto one jankyass train, mad at--
The train jerked to a stop, throwing the teenage girl still yakking to her boyfriend off balance and she stumbled, slamming a stiletto heel into the top of Changmin's sneaker. Changmin whimpered softly and almost bit through his tongue at the sudden the stab of pain. The girl didn’t even stop to apologize, still talking loudly as she shouldered her way through the opening doors. A few others also exited, fortunately including the mother with the fussy infant, but they were quickly replaced by even more new passengers, widening the gap between Jaejoong and Changmin.
Rubbing his toes against his calf to try and ease his aching foot, Changmin glared daggers at Jaejoong. It was totally Jaejoong’s fault that he was in pain right now; also that he was sweaty. Changmin sincerely hated feeling sweaty. He needed a shower or to punch something or to scream--right now!--or else he would be in very real danger of literally exploding in the near future. However, since none of those things were possible without first exiting the train, and since the person currently controlling access to his ring, his wallet, and his sanity was still on the train, Changmin opted for the next best option: venting to Kyuhyun.
He grabbed his phone and started typing furiously, pouring his soul--his angst, his pathos--into a string of very detailed texts outlining his progression of thoughts the train stop had interrupted. Changmin hit send as soon as he ran out of words and was about to devolve into irate keysmash (Kyuhyun was not the most tolerant when it came to keysmash), not even bothering to double check his punctuation choices like usual.
Changmin felt a little better after getting all that off his chest, although his relief started to turn into annoyance as minutes passed while he waited impatiently for a sympathetic reply that wasn’t coming. He would even take a sarcastic comment right now, he really would, if it could distract him from the interminable train ride.
In two more stops Changmin got tired of waiting and typed a message to Jaejoong.
12:47 PM You suck. Just so you know, as soon as I get my wallet back I am never speaking to you again. Never ever.
Changmin looked over to watch Jaejoong pause his lazy scrolling, on tumblr or twitter or some other SNS no doubt, and open the message. Jaejoong’s shoulders twitched in silent laughter before he quickly typed back an answer:
12:48 PM Yes, my mouth is very talented at sucking ^_^ Are you offering to buy me bubble tea? :P :D xD
Changmin sighed heavily, considering whether or not to reply if Jaejoong was just going to give him a hard time about everything, but his curiosity finally won out and he replied:
12:51 PM Where are we going
To Changmin’s extreme frustration, Jaejoong kept him waiting for several minutes before answering:
1:02 PM You’ll find out when we get there >.>
1:04 PM I want peach yogurt bubble tea with a fat pink straw :D
Changmin didn’t reply.
The next stop was a transfer hub. A good percentage of the passengers disembarked and Changmin gratefully sank into the nearest open seat, the discomfort in his stomach finally easing a little. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy as the gentle rocking motion of the train started up again and it took a tremendous amount of willpower not to nod off in the warm train, but Changmin didn’t trust Jaejoong not to leave him behind wallet-less and friendless if he slept through their stop.
In his half comatose state, Changmin quickly lost count of the stations they passed but a good thirty minutes or so later he jumped up with a start when he noticed Jaejoong slipping through the replenished crush of bodies towards the door.
Changmin didn’t catch sight of where they were until he was off the train and ducking through the mass of people headed for the the nearest exit to catch up with Jaejoong: Dongdaemun. Well, fuck. They wouldn’t be escaping the crowds here.
It was still cold and windy and overcast above ground, and Changmin was shivering as well now as they waited in a throng of people stopped at the crosswalk near Dongdaemun’s eponymous gate.
“Where are we going,” Changmin tried asking again. He was still mad at Jaejoong, obviously, but he was saving his breath for when they were in private. Or at least semi-private; he figured it might be a good thing if Yoochun or somebody were there to make sure he didn’t get carried away with the throttling or whatever.
“Oh, just some places around here,” Jaejoong muttered without looking up from the pavement.
“What are you shopping for.”
“We are going Christmas shopping, my friend. So start smiling. Let’s see your holiday spirit~” Jaejoong poked at the corner of Changmin’s unsmiling mouth. Changmin frowned. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna go home before dark,” Jaejoong threatened. The light turned green and Changmin pushed off the curb and started threading his way through the crowd ahead of him. “Hey, wait!” Jaejoong yelled. Changmin slowed, but only to shut him up. He really didn’t need any more public scenes to remember the day by.
Jaejoong stopped outside the entrance to a large building not too far away. It looked vaguely familiar to Changmin.
“Fabric market,” Jaejoong announced before barging through the double doors, looking back once over his shoulder to make certain Changmin was following. Changmin followed, his stomach sinking past his knees at the words.
They quickly crossed the bare lobby and entered the floor of the warehouse which was crowded with dozens of vendor booths wholesaling every kind of notion imaginable, boxes of beads and buttons and rolls of lace and ribbons extending from floor to ceiling. The sight made Changmin dizzy and he narrowly sidestepped getting plowed over by a harried young man, some kind of design student if the red mohawk and jingling facial piercings were any indication, dragging two large black trash bags heavy and bulging with fabric behind him.
Changmin hurried after Jaejoong down the narrow aisles, not wanting to lose sight of him on the bustling sales floor with almost zero visibility ahead. Changmin was panting by the time they made it to an escalator, anxiety winding tight in his gut. He sneezed violently from the lint hanging in the dry air as they stepped onto the next level. There were reasons he avoided places like this.
Jaejoong led him across the better lit but busier floor where bolts of fabric, mostly knits in various colorful fashion prints, were stacked behind counters littered with catalogues of fabric samples. They crossed to another adjoining building, the first floor of which was rather calm in comparison. Most of the vendors they passed here were sitting quietly behind their booths, knitting industriously in pairs or alone. Changmin kind of wanted to stop and sink his fingers into the fuzzy walls of yarn skeins surrounding him but Jaejoong breezed through this section as well.
“Seriously, where are we going,” Changmin gasped as they jogged up a flight of stairs.
“Fifth floor. Tassels.” Jaejoong waited impatiently at the top of the stairs for Changmin to catch up. “Come on, this is it.”
The top floor was the most overwhelming yet, an explosion of beads, crystals, hair pieces, and jewelry, every surface in sight encrusted with something shiny that refracted the harsh overhead lighting in painful ways. There were no trash bags to be seen up here, but Changmin had to duck and crane his neck at obnoxious angles to avoid being strangled by the ropes of hanging beads that dangled on display.
Jaejoong halted in a slightly less crowded aisle near a back corner. Changmin skidded to a stop and blinked. They were in front of a stall literally dripping with netted fringe and tassels, from tiny silver ones the size of fairy hats to heavy corded ones that looked sturdy enough to serve as bell pulls. Not the most interesting booth on the floor, but at least it was quiet(er) there. Changmin sifted his fingers through some delicate silk fringe hanging temptingly in reach and spaced out as the portly vendor in a tight black leather vest and a well oiled goatee presented his wares.
Jaejoong turned around clutching a large paper sack to his chest just as Changmin was starting to worry that his brain might melt through his ears due to boredom.
“Check it out!” Jaejoong held up a hideous green-gold tassel bigger than his hand. Changmin made him think of a spider with an endocrine problem or something that had sprouted a few hundred too many legs.
“Don’t tell me your grandmother or somebody actually collects those things,” Changmin gasped in mild horror.
“What?” Jaejoong dropped the tassel back into the sack and edged towards the escalator.
“Just exactly whose Christmas present is that?” Changmin tried again, striding down the escalator after Jaejoong as quickly as he could around other patrons and their trash bags.
“You goose, these are for a client!” Jaejoong tipped back his head for a low laugh, one hand floating up to cover his mouth. “The Christmas shopping starts….now!” he yelled, pretending to time the supposed transition on his wristwatch as he leapt over the last two steps of the escalator to solid ground. Changmin put a hand to Jaejoong’s shoulder to propel him forward towards the door. His head felt about to explode and he couldn’t wait to get outside to the fresh cool air.
The sour tang of pollution hit the back of Changmin’s tongue as he pushed through an exit on the other side of the building. So much for fresh. If only he had ignored his phone that morning he could be deep in the countryside of Chungbuk right now, breathing in the fresh scents of manure and rainwater and chatting up the nearly deaf owner of the junk shop. No point in dwelling on that now, though.
“So, uh, who do you still need to buy for?” They were waiting at the crosswalk once again.
“Everybody,” Jaejoong said, exhaling a deep breath from puffed out cheeks.
“Don’t buy me anything,” Changmin said drily, “‘Cause I won’t reciprocate.” Jaejoong pouted. “There’s only one thing I want anyway,” he added in the softest of voices as the light changed and the crowd around them surged forward, Jaejoong moving ahead smoothly with the mass of people.
“Me too,” he said, turning back to fix Changmin with an intense gaze. Changmin gulped and hurried to reach the sidewalk on the other side with long strides.
“Oh no, we’re not going to another shopping center are we?” Changmin moaned, suddenly recognizing the direction they were headed in. Jaejoong laughed again, somehow not as annoying as it should have been.
“Don’t worry. Heechul told me about another boutique I want to scout. It’s back here somewhere,” he said with a slight frown, slipping away from the crowd to delve into the narrow maze of backstreets behind the row of tall buildings that lined the main road.
They wandered in circles through back alleys and side streets, dodging delivery boys on motor bikes and the mounds of trash bags heaped precariously outside of seedy night bars. Daylight somehow made the reds and yellows and sharp edges of the cramped buildings seem even harsher and more sketch than they did at night.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Changmin whined, his muscles starting to feel like putty after all the stress and the cold, the generally dismal atmosphere just making everything feel worse.
“Yup.” Jaejoong was relentless when it came to hunting down something he wanted. He stopped short to consult his gps again and Changmin almost crashed into him, stumbling into a mud puddle. Or at least he sure hoped that was mud, god, if--
“I think it’s over there.” Jaejoong poked at Changmin's shoulder and pointed down a narrow street that they had tried towards the beginning of their search. “Come on.” Changmin swallowed a sob of frustration and followed.
Fortunately, Jaejoong was right about the direction and also managed to find the right building this time despite, the deceiving and non chronological progression of address numbers. The shop was on the second floor of a long and narrow building sandwiched between two crackerbox love hotels, on top of an izakaya, some sort of cafe, and a purported traditional medicine place, if that sign were to be believed.
The shop itself had no visible identification sign from the outside, but they could see headless mannequins draped with colorful sweaters in the window above. Jaejoong enthusiastically climbed the stairs as if he hadn’t mountaineered a few dozen flights already that afternoon, and Changmin clambered after him, ignoring the cramp building in his tender foot. He was normally above running on the stairs, but this stairwell hadn’t been cleaned in a few good years if the grime audibly shifting under their footsteps was any indication.
The door handle, at least, was well polished and clean and the shop itself didn’t look too bad upon first glance, although Changmin was going to forego giving it the white glove treatment. There was no telling how much time and Won Jaejoong planned to waste there and Changmin decided he might as well be blissfully ignorant about the contaminants he was obliged to touch and breath during the meantime.
The shop didn’t smell too bad, either, a light hint of cinnamon and something else spicy Changmin couldn’t place until they rounded the corner and he caught sight of a delicate joss stick burning in a black ceramic holder. The scent might have been overwhelming in close quarters, but the place was bigger than it looked from the outside, housing several dozen rows of clothing racks which were eclectically but meticulously arranged by color family.
Changmin was happy to find men’s clothes this time as well as women’s among the selections available, although upon second glance many of the pieces looked like they could honestly go either way. Not so much to his personal tastes, but whatever.
He was further relieved to note that the establishment was gloriously free of salesgirls with obnoxiously long fingernails and obnoxiously orange lipstick and obnoxiously brassy highlights and a general air of obnoxiousness. There was only one normal looking dude in a normal but expensive looking graphic tee and cardigan and unmatching tight plaid slacks reading a magazine behind the counter. He greeted his customers politely but didn’t stand and rush to offer assistance. Thank god, space.
Jaejoong started roving, first looking, then grazing sleeves and hems on his second round of the place, and finally slowing to pull hangers and hold seams to the light. Changmin browsed a little, vaguely contemplating a few shirts before an acute case of sticker shock put an early end to that. He really shouldn’t have been surprised though, since Heechul had supposedly recommended this place after all, but when Changmin could spend his disposable income on things like imported chocolate and high-end headphones, designer shirts with incomprehensible French and even weirder English messages were not particular priorities.
Changmin stared out the window at the deserted street, but it wasn’t much of a view and there weren’t even any birds or anything to creep on. Even the sky was one solid blank gray sheet, so cloud watching was about as exciting as watching paint dry. But colder.
He turned back to the nearest rack. Jaejoong had worked his way nearly to the end of the first one, a few selections heaped in the bottom of a wire basket vaguely reminiscent of chicken wire. He was humming happily under his breath, sliding hangers along the metal bar in time with the beat his shiny shoes were tapping into the faded maroon carpet.
Changmin watched him quietly for a moment, wondering if Jaejoong would feel his intruding gaze and scold him or distract him or provide some other perverse form of entertainment. Jaejoong just kept humming. Changmin cleared his throat lightly. Still nothing. He gave a forced cough. Jaejoong held up a green and black leather vest.
“What do you think?” Ok seriously? It was hideous, in a word. But Changmin knew if he pissed off Jaejoong this early into the venture he would be ignored for the rest of the duration. Ignored and very bored.
“Maybe without the fringe?” he shrugged extra helpfully. Jaejoong’s shoulders slumped, making his frame look even more thin and fragile inside his oversized coat.
“Yeah...you’re right, the fringe detracts too much from the color relationship.” He stood staring at the vest for another long moment.
“Who are we looking for?”
“Yunho.” Jaejoong twisted his lips in frustration, still frozen in place by the rack. Changmin choked a surprised laugh into another strangled cough.
“Maybe...a scarf?” he suggested as soon as he recovered. Yunho tended to leave detachable accessories like scarves and gloves on trains and in coffee shops, so it would be safe to assume he could always use another set of everything.
“What if Heechul buys him a scarf?” A knot of worry twisted between Jaejoong’s brows. Apparently this venture was serious business.
“You could text him and ask?”
“Heechul has a big fat mouth.” Jaejoong had a point.
“Yunho-hyung will love anything you give him. It’s the thought that counts, right?” Jaejoong scoffed and slammed the hanger back onto the rack.
“That’s what he tried to tell me when he wrecked the kitchen and burned my favorite dish towel making toast this morning. Making toast, Min-ah. And he didn’t even share! Maybe I won’t buy the idiot anything after all.”
“Did you really want to share his burnt toast?” Changmin couldn’t keep the amused smile from his voice.
“No, but--”
“It’s the thought that counts?” Changmin gave his shoulder an awkward pat.
“Oh.” Jaejoong moved on to the next rack and Changmin followed lazily after.
“If it’s that stressful, why don’t you move out?” Changmin absently twirled a drip of lace from a shirt cuff around his pinky. “Or how come Yunho doesn’t just move in with Heechul anyway?” Jaejoong looked up, startled by the question.
“Are you kidding? You’re kidding, right. If those two even tried sharing closet space, they’d be divorced in under a week.”
“Divorced? They’re not even married, Jaejoong!” Changmin laughed.
“Yeah, that’s what they think too.” Changmin nodded grudgingly and Jaejoong swiveled to check the drape of a cardigan across one lifted thigh in the mirror across the room.
“Wait, are you insinuating Heechul has more clothes than you?” Changmin asked incredulously. Jaejoong didn’t look up as he turned his attention back to browsing.
“My motto is quality over quantity,” Jaejoong sniffed, scooping a handful of glass bangles off the shelf above the rack and dropping them into his basket. They landed safely on a heap of T-shirts with a dull clink.
“Uh huh,” Changmin appraised, raking his eyes over the contents of Jaejoong’s basket, “that Cookie Monster T-shirt definitely says quality.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“That,” Jaejoong snapped with a wicked glare, “is for Yoochun. It’s not hard to pick for him because we always go shopping together.” Right. Of course.
“Sorry for noticing.” Changmin held back a weak laugh. Both of their wardrobes suddenly made so much more sense to him.
Jaejoong had apparently decided to be miffed though, and after fifteen seconds of nothing but noncommunicative sniffing in response Changmin wandered away, ultimately drawn to the delicious smelling incense. The boy behind the counter looked up as he approached, a hint of a smile on his lips.
“What is that stuff?” Changmin asked, gesturing at the wispy curl of smoke climbing steadily into the still air. “Cinnamon, and…”
“Cardamom,” the boy said, smiling fully this time. Except he wasn’t a boy, Changmin noticed, he was more like 25. And kinda hot.
“Cardamom! Right. That was driving me crazy, trying to figure it out.” The boy laughed and Changmin noticed that his dark eyes lit up like liquid flame, a lot like Jaejoong’s, in fact.
“Yeah, it makes a lot of people wonder. This Swedish company makes it, so I always stock up when I’m in Europe.”
“Do you travel to Europe often?”
“Nah,” the kinda hot non-boy admitted with a shy smile. “I wish. My sister Dami does though. This is her place.” He waved a hand in an exaggerated sweep. God, even his hands were pretty and cute. Changmin smiled. “Do you?” the other asked, tugging on the edge of his beanie. “Go to Europe, I mean.” He bit his lip around another shy smile, one sneaker bouncing on the rung of his chair.
“Not nearly as often as I’d like, but I’ve been to a few auctions.”
“Art?”
“Yeah, some. Mostly just stuff for my shop though.” The clerk arched a delicate brow. “I deal antiques,” Changmin hurried to explain, suddenly flustered as he watched the other chew thoughtfully away at his lip. His mouth was pink and enchanting, although not quite as elegant as Jaejoong's.
“Any place I’ve heard of?” The magazine flopped onto the narrow counter as it’s owner leaned forward to rest his elbows on the ledge.
“I doubt it,” Changmin laughed shyly. “You heard of the Changtique Shoppe? Yeah, guess not." He rubbed at his earlobe. "Oh, m-my name’s Changmin,” he explained when upon receiving another curious look. The face propped above the counter broke into a sunny smile. “It was my little sister’s--”
“Dude, I got a sister, I know. They’re only more annoying if they got age hierarchy shit to rub in your face.” Changmin laughed and rolled his eyes. “I’m Jiyong, by the way.” Changmin gripped the hand extended to him.
“Maybe, yeah. So what’s your favorite city, Jiyong? Somewhere warm? Grenada? Lisbon?” He could totally see this kid rocking a tanned surfer look. Or any look, really.
“Nope! Guess again.”
“Uh, are you into art too? Paris?” That earned him another easy laugh.
“Yeah, France is some tight shit, but have you ever been clubbing in Amsterdam?” Jiyong paused to let out a low whistle. Changmin giggled, embarrassingly enough, but he couldn’t help it. There was way too much cuteness right under his nose grinning up at him. Cheekily grinning, to boot.
“How’s the nightlife in Sweden?”
“Huh?”
“Haven’t you been…? You said...”
“Oh, you mean because of the incense stuff? I actually get that in London.”
“Oh.” Damnit, why were words deserting him now? This was potentially the most interesting thing to happen to Changmin all week.
“Yeah, I can write it down if you want.” Jiyong snagged a card from the colorful glass holder on the counter and fumbled for a pen. “They’re fair trade and only use the best. Their cosmetics line uses food-grade ingredients. We have samples if you wanna test one…” Jiyong slipped Changmin the card scribble side down and turned to rummage on the shelf behind him. Changmin pocketed it without looking. If the soft blush on the shorter man’s cheeks was any indication he’d included his phone number along with the London address, and if not, Changmin could always come back to shop if he ever got bored.
Jiyong wobbled for a moment on the rickety folding chair he was using as a step ladder and nimbly leapt from his perch, an outstretched hand presenting a small tin to Changmin. Changmin caught his wrist in a stabilizing grip as he landed, which only deepened the pink across Jiyong’s nose, and they both pulled away after a beat, grinning.
“This stuff’s, um, grapefruit lip ice. I can’t live without it in the winter.” Jiyong unscrewed the lid and dabbed a beringed forefinger into the gooey pale pink balm. “Your lips look a little chapped,” Jiyong noted, leaning forward with his dark gaze riveted on Changmin’s mouth. “You should really, um--”
“It’s time to go, Minnie-ah!” Jaejoong hissed, his cold fingers gouging into the underside of Changmin’s wrist as he yanked him back from the counter. “He’s allergic to bees,” Jaejoong declared fiercely to the figure frozen in front of him with mouth and round eyes open wide in shock, pink finger still extended in front of him. “That’s beeswax, isn’t it!” Jaejoong’s eyes cut accusatory daggers into Jiyong.
“Jaejoong!”
“We’re leaving.” Jaejoong shoved his overflowing basket at Jiyong and started pulling Changmin to the exit.
“Can I at least ring these up for--” Jaejoong spun on his heel to glare back at the counter.
“I would rather lick the floor than buy from a place with service like yours,” he spat out before shoving Changmin out the door and slamming it before his victim could get an angry word in edgewise. They heard his cussing all the way down the stairs though, and Jaejoong looked oddly satisfied when they burst out into the cold air of the dirty street.
“Jaejoong, what the hell is wrong with you?” Changmin spluttered, yanking free. He was more confused than anything; Jaejoong was giving him some serious emotional whiplash here.
“You really don’t get it, do you.” Jaejoong’s voice was dangerously quiet but his eyes held a surprising measure of hurt in their glittering depths.
“No! That’s why I’m asking you--!” Jaejoong dove for Changmin’s coat pocket, snatching Jiyong’s business card up and shredding it before flinging the tatters to the wet pavement. He ground one heel into the mess for good measure.
“Jaejoong!” Changmin caught him by his heaving shoulders and turned Jaejoong to face him.
“Changmin, he practically tried to poison you!” Jaejoong tried to jerk away but Changmin held him fast.
“But I’m not even allerg--!”
“Come on. Let’s go home.” Jaejoong finally lifted wary eyes, now melted to a liquid chocolate brown. Changmin sighed, hands slipping from Jaejoong’s shivering shoulders to hang limply at his sides. “Here’s your wallet.”
“Thanks...”
They walked back to the main road in silence, Jaejoong doggedly keeping a few strides ahead.
“I’m gonna walk home. You should take a cab.” Jaejoong shoved a wad of bills into his cold hands and stalked away, shoulders hunched into the wind, as Changmin stood and silently watched him retreat. Jaejoong still looked really cold, the pale band of skin between his uneven hairline and loose collar exposed to the wind.
A few moments (or a few years? He wasn’t entirely sure which) after Jaejoong slipped between the cracks in the crowd Changmin found himself wandering down the chipped tile steps of the nearest metro station entrance. He drifted along with the walkway towards the gate, stopping once in front of a kiosk loaded with winter accessories. The old woman perched on a high stool next to the stand probably peddled the average assortment of cheap pantyhose, plastic hair clamps, and striped socks, but all Changmin had eyes for was the brilliant red scarf dangling at the front. It had six inches of lush fringe at the ends and looked so, so soft. He stripped his gloves off and buried both hands into the plush knit material before he could embarrass himself by face planting into the inviting softness.
“Only twenty thousand Won,” the old woman leaned forward eagerly to announce.
“Mm,” Changmin mumbled, still rubbing the scarf between his fingers. Red would look so eye catching against pale skin under a pair of dark eyes...
“I’ll even give you a discount! Three thousand off because you’re so handsome.” She dug leathery fingers into Changmin’s forearm, eyes glinting as she eyed him up and down.
“I’ll take it.” Changmin slipped her the scarf and she relinquished her tight grip on his arm, bending to tape the purchase securely into a purple and silver zebra striped bag. She gave his ass an appreciative pat and sent him off with a cackle.
Changmin stumbled down the stairs to the platform, blushing profusely, and collapsed into the nearest empty bench to wait. Today had been so...weird. Just one more train ride...then he could retrieve his car and go home.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as he was boarding and Changmin opened his inbox as soon as he was nestled comfortably in an end seat. It was from Kyuhyun.
4:37 PM Dude. Did you just use the word jankyass? lmao
Changmin flushed and scrolled back to confirm his unfortunate vocabulary choice, blushing hotter when it glared back at him from the screen before firing back:
4:39 PM Not just, you jerkface :P I sent that, like, 4 hrs ago.
Changmin tapped his fingernails impatiently on the metal hand rest until Kyuhyun replied:
4:46 PM Whatever. Since when do you care who Jae-hyung flirts with
Good point...wait, no! Kyuhyun was totally misunderstanding. It wasn’t the who that bothered him…
4:47 PM I have always cared, thank you very much, because it’s embarrassing by association!
Changmin fell asleep waiting for Kyuhyun’s reply, fortunately rousing a few stops before he had to get off.
It was quickly getting dark outside, the temperature plummeting as the light faded. The security lights in the parking lot were just flickering on as Changmin trudged onto the premises, bathing the half-full lot in dull yellow light. He unlocked his car and opened passenger door to get to the glove compartment. He shoved the shopping bag in and closed it back up with a deliberate click.
Changmin straightened up as a faint shadow wavered across one of the lamp beams in his peripheral vision. He turned his head to find not one trace of shadow, but many tiny flickers of darkness slanting across the light as hundreds of icy crystals came spiraling onto his upturned face, catching in the rough wool of his coat sleeves, dusting the tops of his shoes, sliding into the seam of his slightly parted lips: the first snow.
Part 16, Part 18
Pairings/Characters: Jaejoong/Changmin, Yunho/Heechul, Yoochun, Ryeowook, Kyuhyun, Leeteuk, Donghae, Junsu, G-Dragon,
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Changmin owns an antique shop. Jaejoong is an interior decorator. Ryeowook is a genius who bakes delicious cake.
A/N: Yeah, so this one kinda got away from me. I'll go hide now... (cross posted to AO3)
The Changtique Shoppe, Part 17
To say that Changmin was uncomfortable would be putting it lightly. He was downright miserable. The train was crowded, bodies pressing in around him on all sides, a teenage girl talking loudly on her cell phone to his right. Stale, hot air poured from the vent directly above him, parching his skin and blowing his hair into his eyes. It was so crowded that there was no way Changmin could maneuver his heavy wool coat off without elbowing someone in the face, so he had to stand there, feeling the sweat begin to bead beneath his sweater and then slide towards the small of his back, the heat only making his nausea worse.
To say that Changmin was angry would be a gross understatement. Changmin was livid. Not just at Jaejoong for stealing his wallet, although that was quite enough to start with; Changmin was mad at Ryeowook for giving out advice that had majorly backfired, mad at himself for giving an inch and getting himself dragged into a mile-long mess yet again, mad at the lecherous waiter for his shameless flirting, mad at Yoochun for being so fucking content all the time with his coffee and his notebooks and his sweatpants and his dramaless existence, mad at Heechul for being a gloating asshole about Changmin needing advice in the first place, mad at the baby starting to wail at the other end of the train car, mad at Jaejoong for not wearing a scarf in the fucking frigid weather, mad at the incompetent train staff imbeciles who were probably breaking five different fire regulations allowing this many fucking people onto one jankyass train, mad at--
The train jerked to a stop, throwing the teenage girl still yakking to her boyfriend off balance and she stumbled, slamming a stiletto heel into the top of Changmin's sneaker. Changmin whimpered softly and almost bit through his tongue at the sudden the stab of pain. The girl didn’t even stop to apologize, still talking loudly as she shouldered her way through the opening doors. A few others also exited, fortunately including the mother with the fussy infant, but they were quickly replaced by even more new passengers, widening the gap between Jaejoong and Changmin.
Rubbing his toes against his calf to try and ease his aching foot, Changmin glared daggers at Jaejoong. It was totally Jaejoong’s fault that he was in pain right now; also that he was sweaty. Changmin sincerely hated feeling sweaty. He needed a shower or to punch something or to scream--right now!--or else he would be in very real danger of literally exploding in the near future. However, since none of those things were possible without first exiting the train, and since the person currently controlling access to his ring, his wallet, and his sanity was still on the train, Changmin opted for the next best option: venting to Kyuhyun.
He grabbed his phone and started typing furiously, pouring his soul--his angst, his pathos--into a string of very detailed texts outlining his progression of thoughts the train stop had interrupted. Changmin hit send as soon as he ran out of words and was about to devolve into irate keysmash (Kyuhyun was not the most tolerant when it came to keysmash), not even bothering to double check his punctuation choices like usual.
Changmin felt a little better after getting all that off his chest, although his relief started to turn into annoyance as minutes passed while he waited impatiently for a sympathetic reply that wasn’t coming. He would even take a sarcastic comment right now, he really would, if it could distract him from the interminable train ride.
In two more stops Changmin got tired of waiting and typed a message to Jaejoong.
12:47 PM You suck. Just so you know, as soon as I get my wallet back I am never speaking to you again. Never ever.
Changmin looked over to watch Jaejoong pause his lazy scrolling, on tumblr or twitter or some other SNS no doubt, and open the message. Jaejoong’s shoulders twitched in silent laughter before he quickly typed back an answer:
12:48 PM Yes, my mouth is very talented at sucking ^_^ Are you offering to buy me bubble tea? :P :D xD
Changmin sighed heavily, considering whether or not to reply if Jaejoong was just going to give him a hard time about everything, but his curiosity finally won out and he replied:
12:51 PM Where are we going
To Changmin’s extreme frustration, Jaejoong kept him waiting for several minutes before answering:
1:02 PM You’ll find out when we get there >.>
1:04 PM I want peach yogurt bubble tea with a fat pink straw :D
Changmin didn’t reply.
The next stop was a transfer hub. A good percentage of the passengers disembarked and Changmin gratefully sank into the nearest open seat, the discomfort in his stomach finally easing a little. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy as the gentle rocking motion of the train started up again and it took a tremendous amount of willpower not to nod off in the warm train, but Changmin didn’t trust Jaejoong not to leave him behind wallet-less and friendless if he slept through their stop.
In his half comatose state, Changmin quickly lost count of the stations they passed but a good thirty minutes or so later he jumped up with a start when he noticed Jaejoong slipping through the replenished crush of bodies towards the door.
Changmin didn’t catch sight of where they were until he was off the train and ducking through the mass of people headed for the the nearest exit to catch up with Jaejoong: Dongdaemun. Well, fuck. They wouldn’t be escaping the crowds here.
It was still cold and windy and overcast above ground, and Changmin was shivering as well now as they waited in a throng of people stopped at the crosswalk near Dongdaemun’s eponymous gate.
“Where are we going,” Changmin tried asking again. He was still mad at Jaejoong, obviously, but he was saving his breath for when they were in private. Or at least semi-private; he figured it might be a good thing if Yoochun or somebody were there to make sure he didn’t get carried away with the throttling or whatever.
“Oh, just some places around here,” Jaejoong muttered without looking up from the pavement.
“What are you shopping for.”
“We are going Christmas shopping, my friend. So start smiling. Let’s see your holiday spirit~” Jaejoong poked at the corner of Changmin’s unsmiling mouth. Changmin frowned. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna go home before dark,” Jaejoong threatened. The light turned green and Changmin pushed off the curb and started threading his way through the crowd ahead of him. “Hey, wait!” Jaejoong yelled. Changmin slowed, but only to shut him up. He really didn’t need any more public scenes to remember the day by.
Jaejoong stopped outside the entrance to a large building not too far away. It looked vaguely familiar to Changmin.
“Fabric market,” Jaejoong announced before barging through the double doors, looking back once over his shoulder to make certain Changmin was following. Changmin followed, his stomach sinking past his knees at the words.
They quickly crossed the bare lobby and entered the floor of the warehouse which was crowded with dozens of vendor booths wholesaling every kind of notion imaginable, boxes of beads and buttons and rolls of lace and ribbons extending from floor to ceiling. The sight made Changmin dizzy and he narrowly sidestepped getting plowed over by a harried young man, some kind of design student if the red mohawk and jingling facial piercings were any indication, dragging two large black trash bags heavy and bulging with fabric behind him.
Changmin hurried after Jaejoong down the narrow aisles, not wanting to lose sight of him on the bustling sales floor with almost zero visibility ahead. Changmin was panting by the time they made it to an escalator, anxiety winding tight in his gut. He sneezed violently from the lint hanging in the dry air as they stepped onto the next level. There were reasons he avoided places like this.
Jaejoong led him across the better lit but busier floor where bolts of fabric, mostly knits in various colorful fashion prints, were stacked behind counters littered with catalogues of fabric samples. They crossed to another adjoining building, the first floor of which was rather calm in comparison. Most of the vendors they passed here were sitting quietly behind their booths, knitting industriously in pairs or alone. Changmin kind of wanted to stop and sink his fingers into the fuzzy walls of yarn skeins surrounding him but Jaejoong breezed through this section as well.
“Seriously, where are we going,” Changmin gasped as they jogged up a flight of stairs.
“Fifth floor. Tassels.” Jaejoong waited impatiently at the top of the stairs for Changmin to catch up. “Come on, this is it.”
The top floor was the most overwhelming yet, an explosion of beads, crystals, hair pieces, and jewelry, every surface in sight encrusted with something shiny that refracted the harsh overhead lighting in painful ways. There were no trash bags to be seen up here, but Changmin had to duck and crane his neck at obnoxious angles to avoid being strangled by the ropes of hanging beads that dangled on display.
Jaejoong halted in a slightly less crowded aisle near a back corner. Changmin skidded to a stop and blinked. They were in front of a stall literally dripping with netted fringe and tassels, from tiny silver ones the size of fairy hats to heavy corded ones that looked sturdy enough to serve as bell pulls. Not the most interesting booth on the floor, but at least it was quiet(er) there. Changmin sifted his fingers through some delicate silk fringe hanging temptingly in reach and spaced out as the portly vendor in a tight black leather vest and a well oiled goatee presented his wares.
Jaejoong turned around clutching a large paper sack to his chest just as Changmin was starting to worry that his brain might melt through his ears due to boredom.
“Check it out!” Jaejoong held up a hideous green-gold tassel bigger than his hand. Changmin made him think of a spider with an endocrine problem or something that had sprouted a few hundred too many legs.
“Don’t tell me your grandmother or somebody actually collects those things,” Changmin gasped in mild horror.
“What?” Jaejoong dropped the tassel back into the sack and edged towards the escalator.
“Just exactly whose Christmas present is that?” Changmin tried again, striding down the escalator after Jaejoong as quickly as he could around other patrons and their trash bags.
“You goose, these are for a client!” Jaejoong tipped back his head for a low laugh, one hand floating up to cover his mouth. “The Christmas shopping starts….now!” he yelled, pretending to time the supposed transition on his wristwatch as he leapt over the last two steps of the escalator to solid ground. Changmin put a hand to Jaejoong’s shoulder to propel him forward towards the door. His head felt about to explode and he couldn’t wait to get outside to the fresh cool air.
The sour tang of pollution hit the back of Changmin’s tongue as he pushed through an exit on the other side of the building. So much for fresh. If only he had ignored his phone that morning he could be deep in the countryside of Chungbuk right now, breathing in the fresh scents of manure and rainwater and chatting up the nearly deaf owner of the junk shop. No point in dwelling on that now, though.
“So, uh, who do you still need to buy for?” They were waiting at the crosswalk once again.
“Everybody,” Jaejoong said, exhaling a deep breath from puffed out cheeks.
“Don’t buy me anything,” Changmin said drily, “‘Cause I won’t reciprocate.” Jaejoong pouted. “There’s only one thing I want anyway,” he added in the softest of voices as the light changed and the crowd around them surged forward, Jaejoong moving ahead smoothly with the mass of people.
“Me too,” he said, turning back to fix Changmin with an intense gaze. Changmin gulped and hurried to reach the sidewalk on the other side with long strides.
“Oh no, we’re not going to another shopping center are we?” Changmin moaned, suddenly recognizing the direction they were headed in. Jaejoong laughed again, somehow not as annoying as it should have been.
“Don’t worry. Heechul told me about another boutique I want to scout. It’s back here somewhere,” he said with a slight frown, slipping away from the crowd to delve into the narrow maze of backstreets behind the row of tall buildings that lined the main road.
They wandered in circles through back alleys and side streets, dodging delivery boys on motor bikes and the mounds of trash bags heaped precariously outside of seedy night bars. Daylight somehow made the reds and yellows and sharp edges of the cramped buildings seem even harsher and more sketch than they did at night.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Changmin whined, his muscles starting to feel like putty after all the stress and the cold, the generally dismal atmosphere just making everything feel worse.
“Yup.” Jaejoong was relentless when it came to hunting down something he wanted. He stopped short to consult his gps again and Changmin almost crashed into him, stumbling into a mud puddle. Or at least he sure hoped that was mud, god, if--
“I think it’s over there.” Jaejoong poked at Changmin's shoulder and pointed down a narrow street that they had tried towards the beginning of their search. “Come on.” Changmin swallowed a sob of frustration and followed.
Fortunately, Jaejoong was right about the direction and also managed to find the right building this time despite, the deceiving and non chronological progression of address numbers. The shop was on the second floor of a long and narrow building sandwiched between two crackerbox love hotels, on top of an izakaya, some sort of cafe, and a purported traditional medicine place, if that sign were to be believed.
The shop itself had no visible identification sign from the outside, but they could see headless mannequins draped with colorful sweaters in the window above. Jaejoong enthusiastically climbed the stairs as if he hadn’t mountaineered a few dozen flights already that afternoon, and Changmin clambered after him, ignoring the cramp building in his tender foot. He was normally above running on the stairs, but this stairwell hadn’t been cleaned in a few good years if the grime audibly shifting under their footsteps was any indication.
The door handle, at least, was well polished and clean and the shop itself didn’t look too bad upon first glance, although Changmin was going to forego giving it the white glove treatment. There was no telling how much time and Won Jaejoong planned to waste there and Changmin decided he might as well be blissfully ignorant about the contaminants he was obliged to touch and breath during the meantime.
The shop didn’t smell too bad, either, a light hint of cinnamon and something else spicy Changmin couldn’t place until they rounded the corner and he caught sight of a delicate joss stick burning in a black ceramic holder. The scent might have been overwhelming in close quarters, but the place was bigger than it looked from the outside, housing several dozen rows of clothing racks which were eclectically but meticulously arranged by color family.
Changmin was happy to find men’s clothes this time as well as women’s among the selections available, although upon second glance many of the pieces looked like they could honestly go either way. Not so much to his personal tastes, but whatever.
He was further relieved to note that the establishment was gloriously free of salesgirls with obnoxiously long fingernails and obnoxiously orange lipstick and obnoxiously brassy highlights and a general air of obnoxiousness. There was only one normal looking dude in a normal but expensive looking graphic tee and cardigan and unmatching tight plaid slacks reading a magazine behind the counter. He greeted his customers politely but didn’t stand and rush to offer assistance. Thank god, space.
Jaejoong started roving, first looking, then grazing sleeves and hems on his second round of the place, and finally slowing to pull hangers and hold seams to the light. Changmin browsed a little, vaguely contemplating a few shirts before an acute case of sticker shock put an early end to that. He really shouldn’t have been surprised though, since Heechul had supposedly recommended this place after all, but when Changmin could spend his disposable income on things like imported chocolate and high-end headphones, designer shirts with incomprehensible French and even weirder English messages were not particular priorities.
Changmin stared out the window at the deserted street, but it wasn’t much of a view and there weren’t even any birds or anything to creep on. Even the sky was one solid blank gray sheet, so cloud watching was about as exciting as watching paint dry. But colder.
He turned back to the nearest rack. Jaejoong had worked his way nearly to the end of the first one, a few selections heaped in the bottom of a wire basket vaguely reminiscent of chicken wire. He was humming happily under his breath, sliding hangers along the metal bar in time with the beat his shiny shoes were tapping into the faded maroon carpet.
Changmin watched him quietly for a moment, wondering if Jaejoong would feel his intruding gaze and scold him or distract him or provide some other perverse form of entertainment. Jaejoong just kept humming. Changmin cleared his throat lightly. Still nothing. He gave a forced cough. Jaejoong held up a green and black leather vest.
“What do you think?” Ok seriously? It was hideous, in a word. But Changmin knew if he pissed off Jaejoong this early into the venture he would be ignored for the rest of the duration. Ignored and very bored.
“Maybe without the fringe?” he shrugged extra helpfully. Jaejoong’s shoulders slumped, making his frame look even more thin and fragile inside his oversized coat.
“Yeah...you’re right, the fringe detracts too much from the color relationship.” He stood staring at the vest for another long moment.
“Who are we looking for?”
“Yunho.” Jaejoong twisted his lips in frustration, still frozen in place by the rack. Changmin choked a surprised laugh into another strangled cough.
“Maybe...a scarf?” he suggested as soon as he recovered. Yunho tended to leave detachable accessories like scarves and gloves on trains and in coffee shops, so it would be safe to assume he could always use another set of everything.
“What if Heechul buys him a scarf?” A knot of worry twisted between Jaejoong’s brows. Apparently this venture was serious business.
“You could text him and ask?”
“Heechul has a big fat mouth.” Jaejoong had a point.
“Yunho-hyung will love anything you give him. It’s the thought that counts, right?” Jaejoong scoffed and slammed the hanger back onto the rack.
“That’s what he tried to tell me when he wrecked the kitchen and burned my favorite dish towel making toast this morning. Making toast, Min-ah. And he didn’t even share! Maybe I won’t buy the idiot anything after all.”
“Did you really want to share his burnt toast?” Changmin couldn’t keep the amused smile from his voice.
“No, but--”
“It’s the thought that counts?” Changmin gave his shoulder an awkward pat.
“Oh.” Jaejoong moved on to the next rack and Changmin followed lazily after.
“If it’s that stressful, why don’t you move out?” Changmin absently twirled a drip of lace from a shirt cuff around his pinky. “Or how come Yunho doesn’t just move in with Heechul anyway?” Jaejoong looked up, startled by the question.
“Are you kidding? You’re kidding, right. If those two even tried sharing closet space, they’d be divorced in under a week.”
“Divorced? They’re not even married, Jaejoong!” Changmin laughed.
“Yeah, that’s what they think too.” Changmin nodded grudgingly and Jaejoong swiveled to check the drape of a cardigan across one lifted thigh in the mirror across the room.
“Wait, are you insinuating Heechul has more clothes than you?” Changmin asked incredulously. Jaejoong didn’t look up as he turned his attention back to browsing.
“My motto is quality over quantity,” Jaejoong sniffed, scooping a handful of glass bangles off the shelf above the rack and dropping them into his basket. They landed safely on a heap of T-shirts with a dull clink.
“Uh huh,” Changmin appraised, raking his eyes over the contents of Jaejoong’s basket, “that Cookie Monster T-shirt definitely says quality.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“That,” Jaejoong snapped with a wicked glare, “is for Yoochun. It’s not hard to pick for him because we always go shopping together.” Right. Of course.
“Sorry for noticing.” Changmin held back a weak laugh. Both of their wardrobes suddenly made so much more sense to him.
Jaejoong had apparently decided to be miffed though, and after fifteen seconds of nothing but noncommunicative sniffing in response Changmin wandered away, ultimately drawn to the delicious smelling incense. The boy behind the counter looked up as he approached, a hint of a smile on his lips.
“What is that stuff?” Changmin asked, gesturing at the wispy curl of smoke climbing steadily into the still air. “Cinnamon, and…”
“Cardamom,” the boy said, smiling fully this time. Except he wasn’t a boy, Changmin noticed, he was more like 25. And kinda hot.
“Cardamom! Right. That was driving me crazy, trying to figure it out.” The boy laughed and Changmin noticed that his dark eyes lit up like liquid flame, a lot like Jaejoong’s, in fact.
“Yeah, it makes a lot of people wonder. This Swedish company makes it, so I always stock up when I’m in Europe.”
“Do you travel to Europe often?”
“Nah,” the kinda hot non-boy admitted with a shy smile. “I wish. My sister Dami does though. This is her place.” He waved a hand in an exaggerated sweep. God, even his hands were pretty and cute. Changmin smiled. “Do you?” the other asked, tugging on the edge of his beanie. “Go to Europe, I mean.” He bit his lip around another shy smile, one sneaker bouncing on the rung of his chair.
“Not nearly as often as I’d like, but I’ve been to a few auctions.”
“Art?”
“Yeah, some. Mostly just stuff for my shop though.” The clerk arched a delicate brow. “I deal antiques,” Changmin hurried to explain, suddenly flustered as he watched the other chew thoughtfully away at his lip. His mouth was pink and enchanting, although not quite as elegant as Jaejoong's.
“Any place I’ve heard of?” The magazine flopped onto the narrow counter as it’s owner leaned forward to rest his elbows on the ledge.
“I doubt it,” Changmin laughed shyly. “You heard of the Changtique Shoppe? Yeah, guess not." He rubbed at his earlobe. "Oh, m-my name’s Changmin,” he explained when upon receiving another curious look. The face propped above the counter broke into a sunny smile. “It was my little sister’s--”
“Dude, I got a sister, I know. They’re only more annoying if they got age hierarchy shit to rub in your face.” Changmin laughed and rolled his eyes. “I’m Jiyong, by the way.” Changmin gripped the hand extended to him.
“Maybe, yeah. So what’s your favorite city, Jiyong? Somewhere warm? Grenada? Lisbon?” He could totally see this kid rocking a tanned surfer look. Or any look, really.
“Nope! Guess again.”
“Uh, are you into art too? Paris?” That earned him another easy laugh.
“Yeah, France is some tight shit, but have you ever been clubbing in Amsterdam?” Jiyong paused to let out a low whistle. Changmin giggled, embarrassingly enough, but he couldn’t help it. There was way too much cuteness right under his nose grinning up at him. Cheekily grinning, to boot.
“How’s the nightlife in Sweden?”
“Huh?”
“Haven’t you been…? You said...”
“Oh, you mean because of the incense stuff? I actually get that in London.”
“Oh.” Damnit, why were words deserting him now? This was potentially the most interesting thing to happen to Changmin all week.
“Yeah, I can write it down if you want.” Jiyong snagged a card from the colorful glass holder on the counter and fumbled for a pen. “They’re fair trade and only use the best. Their cosmetics line uses food-grade ingredients. We have samples if you wanna test one…” Jiyong slipped Changmin the card scribble side down and turned to rummage on the shelf behind him. Changmin pocketed it without looking. If the soft blush on the shorter man’s cheeks was any indication he’d included his phone number along with the London address, and if not, Changmin could always come back to shop if he ever got bored.
Jiyong wobbled for a moment on the rickety folding chair he was using as a step ladder and nimbly leapt from his perch, an outstretched hand presenting a small tin to Changmin. Changmin caught his wrist in a stabilizing grip as he landed, which only deepened the pink across Jiyong’s nose, and they both pulled away after a beat, grinning.
“This stuff’s, um, grapefruit lip ice. I can’t live without it in the winter.” Jiyong unscrewed the lid and dabbed a beringed forefinger into the gooey pale pink balm. “Your lips look a little chapped,” Jiyong noted, leaning forward with his dark gaze riveted on Changmin’s mouth. “You should really, um--”
“It’s time to go, Minnie-ah!” Jaejoong hissed, his cold fingers gouging into the underside of Changmin’s wrist as he yanked him back from the counter. “He’s allergic to bees,” Jaejoong declared fiercely to the figure frozen in front of him with mouth and round eyes open wide in shock, pink finger still extended in front of him. “That’s beeswax, isn’t it!” Jaejoong’s eyes cut accusatory daggers into Jiyong.
“Jaejoong!”
“We’re leaving.” Jaejoong shoved his overflowing basket at Jiyong and started pulling Changmin to the exit.
“Can I at least ring these up for--” Jaejoong spun on his heel to glare back at the counter.
“I would rather lick the floor than buy from a place with service like yours,” he spat out before shoving Changmin out the door and slamming it before his victim could get an angry word in edgewise. They heard his cussing all the way down the stairs though, and Jaejoong looked oddly satisfied when they burst out into the cold air of the dirty street.
“Jaejoong, what the hell is wrong with you?” Changmin spluttered, yanking free. He was more confused than anything; Jaejoong was giving him some serious emotional whiplash here.
“You really don’t get it, do you.” Jaejoong’s voice was dangerously quiet but his eyes held a surprising measure of hurt in their glittering depths.
“No! That’s why I’m asking you--!” Jaejoong dove for Changmin’s coat pocket, snatching Jiyong’s business card up and shredding it before flinging the tatters to the wet pavement. He ground one heel into the mess for good measure.
“Jaejoong!” Changmin caught him by his heaving shoulders and turned Jaejoong to face him.
“Changmin, he practically tried to poison you!” Jaejoong tried to jerk away but Changmin held him fast.
“But I’m not even allerg--!”
“Come on. Let’s go home.” Jaejoong finally lifted wary eyes, now melted to a liquid chocolate brown. Changmin sighed, hands slipping from Jaejoong’s shivering shoulders to hang limply at his sides. “Here’s your wallet.”
“Thanks...”
They walked back to the main road in silence, Jaejoong doggedly keeping a few strides ahead.
“I’m gonna walk home. You should take a cab.” Jaejoong shoved a wad of bills into his cold hands and stalked away, shoulders hunched into the wind, as Changmin stood and silently watched him retreat. Jaejoong still looked really cold, the pale band of skin between his uneven hairline and loose collar exposed to the wind.
A few moments (or a few years? He wasn’t entirely sure which) after Jaejoong slipped between the cracks in the crowd Changmin found himself wandering down the chipped tile steps of the nearest metro station entrance. He drifted along with the walkway towards the gate, stopping once in front of a kiosk loaded with winter accessories. The old woman perched on a high stool next to the stand probably peddled the average assortment of cheap pantyhose, plastic hair clamps, and striped socks, but all Changmin had eyes for was the brilliant red scarf dangling at the front. It had six inches of lush fringe at the ends and looked so, so soft. He stripped his gloves off and buried both hands into the plush knit material before he could embarrass himself by face planting into the inviting softness.
“Only twenty thousand Won,” the old woman leaned forward eagerly to announce.
“Mm,” Changmin mumbled, still rubbing the scarf between his fingers. Red would look so eye catching against pale skin under a pair of dark eyes...
“I’ll even give you a discount! Three thousand off because you’re so handsome.” She dug leathery fingers into Changmin’s forearm, eyes glinting as she eyed him up and down.
“I’ll take it.” Changmin slipped her the scarf and she relinquished her tight grip on his arm, bending to tape the purchase securely into a purple and silver zebra striped bag. She gave his ass an appreciative pat and sent him off with a cackle.
Changmin stumbled down the stairs to the platform, blushing profusely, and collapsed into the nearest empty bench to wait. Today had been so...weird. Just one more train ride...then he could retrieve his car and go home.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as he was boarding and Changmin opened his inbox as soon as he was nestled comfortably in an end seat. It was from Kyuhyun.
4:37 PM Dude. Did you just use the word jankyass? lmao
Changmin flushed and scrolled back to confirm his unfortunate vocabulary choice, blushing hotter when it glared back at him from the screen before firing back:
4:39 PM Not just, you jerkface :P I sent that, like, 4 hrs ago.
Changmin tapped his fingernails impatiently on the metal hand rest until Kyuhyun replied:
4:46 PM Whatever. Since when do you care who Jae-hyung flirts with
Good point...wait, no! Kyuhyun was totally misunderstanding. It wasn’t the who that bothered him…
4:47 PM I have always cared, thank you very much, because it’s embarrassing by association!
Changmin fell asleep waiting for Kyuhyun’s reply, fortunately rousing a few stops before he had to get off.
It was quickly getting dark outside, the temperature plummeting as the light faded. The security lights in the parking lot were just flickering on as Changmin trudged onto the premises, bathing the half-full lot in dull yellow light. He unlocked his car and opened passenger door to get to the glove compartment. He shoved the shopping bag in and closed it back up with a deliberate click.
Changmin straightened up as a faint shadow wavered across one of the lamp beams in his peripheral vision. He turned his head to find not one trace of shadow, but many tiny flickers of darkness slanting across the light as hundreds of icy crystals came spiraling onto his upturned face, catching in the rough wool of his coat sleeves, dusting the tops of his shoes, sliding into the seam of his slightly parted lips: the first snow.
Part 16, Part 18