Chapter Text
Jisung’s first night
Jisung was following Chan through the dining room when he felt his stomach lurch, almost spilling his breakfast all over the brown and red paisley carpet. That would not look good. He tried to listen to Chan’s words as the man described a normal shift at the restaurant and what Jisung’s responsibilities would be, but his lip quivered and sweat built on his forehead, his hands subtly going to hold his stomach as the nerves obtained control of his body. Chan didn’t notice, having his back to Jisung as he pointed things out and talked.
The man was tall and kind, soft-spoken, but he definitely owned the space he walked through. He wore a slightly fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled up so he could work the bar without getting wet or messy, black slacks, subtle silver hoop earrings, and a small cross necklace that you almost couldn’t see. He had soft and fluffy dark brown hair that matched his soft brown eyes, and he carried himself with gentle but strong authority. Chan was the assistant manager of the popular restaurant and managed the bar on weeknights as well as closed up the building. The owner and the other managers only worked in the mornings, which wasn’t entirely fair, but Chan didn’t mind.
“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but the night shifts are more fun than the morning shifts …” The man shone a quiet smile and winked at Jisung, which helped to calm some of the new employee’s nerves. He smiled anxiously back and followed him as they went through the doors leading to the back of house.
Before he could prepare himself, Jisung was surrounded by noise. It wasn’t deafening, but it was consistent. He could hear the knives clatter on the cutting boards as the boy on the line chopped something that looked something like meat, and another boy was mixing something in a big metal bowl that clanked loudly as he stirred, and as Chan led him through another set of doors, he heard the massive dishwasher humming as it completed its cycle, blasting the dishes with water and soap. Jisung struggled not to put his hands over his ears at the stark difference in the noise levels as he followed Chan around the back of house, nodding and listening as he explained which area was for what, and how they managed to work around each other during rushes, applying all the safety rules and procedures. He tried to remember everything, but the older man assured him,
“It’s totally okay if you don’t remember everything, it will all come to you with practice, and repetition … and we’ll all help you if you ever need anything. It’s your first job, everyone makes mistakes and learns, that’s what training is for. Now, here is the office …”
The man led him through the rest of his tour of the restaurant and finished in the office to get him settled with a uniform and a timecard. Chan busied himself with getting his apron on and preparing to go work at the bar for the remainder of the dinner rush.
“You can shadow me at the bar tonight, just to meet the rest of the staff and watch how we do things and the rhythm of the night. We’ll break at around 9 to eat something and then we’ll start closing up at around 11. Sound good?” There was that soft, flashy smile of his, paired with gently sparkling eyes. The man really did enjoy his job.
Jisung smiled back and nodded, fastening his nametag to his polo shirt and taking a deep breath.
“Sounds great.”
Minho rolled his eyes to himself as another ticket came through. He didn’t know why, he’d worked through thousands of dinner rushes, made thousands upon thousands of orders, and still couldn’t suppress a grudge when the tickets started piling up and Seungmin and Changbin started to get stressed. The energy on the line went up several notches and Minho could taste it. He sighed and continued flipping and prodding the steak and chicken he was grilling, even going so far as to nonchalantly shove his left hand in his pants pocket as he did so. There was no reason for him to be stressed.
“Seungmin-ah, you’ve got that entrée for number 49 working, yes?”
“Oh, my God, do you ever just talk normally? Yes, it’s ready in 12 …”
Changbin started working immediately after he graduated from culinary school, him and Chan having been best friends since they were little. He ran the line, led Minho and Seungmin through every rush with order and precision, made sure the servers were comfortable with the times, and only once got into a fight. He wore his uniform over typically ripped jeans and a black tee shirt, his black hair reflecting his black eyes and sharp but genuine personality. He was funny, he liked to make dad jokes when they weren’t busy … oh, but when they were busy, the graduate student came out and all the fancy phrases and behavior that was burned into him flowed non-stop. It drove Seungmin a little crazy, but Minho enjoyed it, quietly, from his corner by the grill. He knew he could learn from Changbin if he wanted to. If he listened, watched … if he cared.
Seungmin was just out of high school. He started as a server but hated it with a passion and switched to working on the line with Changbin and Minho. He did most of the busy work, prepping vegetables and bringing dirty dishes back to be washed. He helped out during the rushes by preparing dishes and helping Changbin plate them, sending them over the counter for the servers to take to their tables. He mostly kept to himself, politely, but if provoked, he had a fiery sense of humor and tended to be ruthless, under the radar, and never shied away from a quiet prank when appropriate. His brown, fluffy hair and big, puppy-dog eyes gave him the appearance of a much younger boy, but once he got behind the line and got into a rhythm, nobody could compete with his times. Minho was probably the only one who noticed how much the younger line cook truly did know how to do everything in the building, but quietly kept to himself, not letting on in the slightest. It reminded Minho of himself a little.
Minho sighed as the two cooks shot little sassy comments back and forth as the night progressed, suppressing a tight smile when it got intense, someone calling someone a ‘troglodyte’ and someone shouting, “Like ANYONE knows what that means, hyung!!”
The orders came to a lull and Minho silently cleaned the grill, blinking slightly as the vinegar hit his eyes and made him hold his breath. He wiped the counters down and gazed at the trash can, debating between emptying it now or waiting until they got ready to close. He looked up at the clock; it was only 10, they still had another hour. He leaned back against the counter, the trash could wait.
Minho sighed and stretched his neck. He let his mind go a little blank as he waited for another order. He watched the other cooks tidy up the line and tried to ignore the horrible, deep, growing feeling his stomach. He was fine. Everything was fine. It was just another night. He could hold on one more night. If he left, who would-
Nope. Can’t think about that. The ticket that came through needed him to grill, so he shook his head and started working, letting his mind go blank once more.
At around 10:45, as he was staring mindlessly at the grill he was tending, he overheard a conversation between the other two cooks, who were working on emptying the trash cans and wiping down the cooler doors.
“Who’s the new kid?”
“Jisung. It’s his first day, he’s gonna shadow Chan-hyung tonight while we close.”
“I didn’t get to shadow anyone my first day.”
“Not everyone can walk into their first night with a degree up their ass.”
Minho didn’t stifle his smile at that. He shrugged and completed his pre-closing tasks, leaning back to watch the others. Through the counter window, he could look out into a portion of the dining room and saw the two servers, Hyunjin and Felix, speed-walk around, cleaning and helping the last few customers of the night. The two of them worked splendidly together, weaving around the dining room as if they were on roller skates. They could handle anything, if a bus full of students came through, they actually got excited. If there were angry customers, they never got upset, just politely went to Chan for help.
Hyunjin and Felix were kind to the cooks, too. Hyunjin always had a mischievous grin and something funny to quip or snap back to Changbin’s terrible puns, and Felix tried his hardest every night to make sure everyone was happy and they all communicated well with each other on the status of the orders and which tables needed what. He was kind and polite, a big-brother air around him, joining in on the chaotic fun with a gentle-giant kind of attitude.
Minho took a deep breath, ready for the night to be over. He was tired, and his throat hurt a little. He had taken vitamins, but there was some sort of virus going around, so he was eager to go home and sleep for a good 12 hours before having to come back the next night and do it all again. Mentally, he chastised himself for forgetting to go to the store to get cat food that morning and made a note in his head to do so tomorrow. So, maybe 10 hours of sleep. Good enough. It had to be good enough, right? He could hold on to that. He could hold on to 10 hours of sleep. He could do that.
Without thinking much, he collected his stack of dishes to bring back to the dish room when he heard Chan walk around the dining room, jingling his keys and saying jovially, loudly enough for all to hear,
“Okay, doors are locked, let’s clean up and get out of here!”
Minho watched, silently, as Changbin quietly made a plate of leftover food and set it on the counter. Usually, the servers came to get their food during their breaks, so this was odd behavior, but Minho smiled inwardly, knowing that he was the only one who figured Changbin and Hyunjin out. It gave him a slight sense of pride, and he defiantly didn’t feel a quiet feeling of emptiness … loneliness, really … wash over him every time he caught them together, sharing food when no one was watching (supposedly) or one time, a peck on the cheek in the middle of a particularly bad night.
Hyunjin was very pretty, Minho had to give them that. They truly fit together. Hyunjin was tall and lanky, with a wolf-cut mullet of shaggy brown hair that made his eyes pop when he smiled. When standing next to each other, which never happened, they looked comical, given how short Changbin was … but their attitudes and personalities complimented each other to no end.
He continued watching from his station as Hyunjin subtly walked up to the counter and took the plate, smiling tenderly at the cook who’d made it for him. Changbin nodded ‘you’re welcome’ to Hyunjin’s mouthed “thank you, baby,” and the night continued without a hiccup. Minho nodded in satisfaction.
He could watch them be in love for one more night. Just one more night.
(He tells himself this every night … and comes back the next day anyway.)
Jisung’s second night
Changbin felt his veins light on fire when Hyunjin came bounding over to the counter, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. He didn’t let it show, but he delighted in ever time the boy came over to collect dishes and communicate changes to orders. Changbin kept it professional, because he had to, but also there was a thrilling feeling to keeping their relationship a secret, hidden under everyone’s noses. It made him feel … funny.
He sighed as he effortlessly made orders and plated them, sending them over the counter for Felix and Hyunjin, and smiled as Seungmin grumbled about something silly next to him. The younger boy had had a rough night, spilling not one bottle of sauce all over the front of his coat and apron, but three. He had then slipped in the walk in and twisted his ankle, claiming it was nothing, just a freak accident. He picked himself up and dusted himself off, and Changbin was proud of him for that. You had to be able to do that if you worked in the environment that they did.
So, needless to say, he let the boy crank quietly to himself as he worked, having sympathy for him and his damp apron and sore ankle. Seungmin was a good kid, and he usually turned around situations like this, making sarcastic and self-deprecating jokes or finding some excuse to turn the whole thing on his nemesis, Jeongin. Tonight, much to Changbin’s quiet amusement, it was placing a stack of dishes here or there, in odd spots, knowing it made the young dishwasher’s blood boil.
Jeongin was also fresh out of highschool, only one year younger than Seungmin. He came in later than the other night shift employees and holed up in the dish room all night, his earbuds in and the dishwashing machine his bitch.
Since he didn’t work in the front of house at all, he didn’t need to wear a uniform besides safe shoes, so he usually trudged in every day in an oversized hoodie and jeans, his hair a mess and his eyes sparkling in quiet mischief. He did his job extremely well, and everyone knew it. Nobody could keep up with the dishes like Jeongin, and although he was fully aware of this, he didn’t lord it over anyone. He merely demanded respect and direct communication. Both of which Seungmin consistently refused to give him.
Changbin had no idea how the two knew each other prior to working at the restaurant, but there was massive friction between them. They would scowl darkly whenever the other came into their sights, and never speak a word to each other, only stand ominously and point, grunt, or gesture rudely with a particular finger.
Chan knew about the rift between his employees and kept an eye out in case it got out of hand, but surprisingly … the two boys kept it professional, never letting it escalate into a full-blown fight. They both did their jobs effectively and appropriately, never letting their petty glares or blatant hatred for each other get in the way of the flow of the restaurant.
Changbin smiled when he noticed Jeongin standing in the doorway that connected the line to the dishroom, holding up the piles of dishes that Seungmin had hidden in odd places just to piss the younger off, and his eyes murderous as he leveled on Seungmin from across the room.
Seungmin noticed shortly after Changbin and he let an adorable smile light up his face, innocently shaking his head and continuing cleaning, closing up the line for the night.
Jeongin raised his eyebrows threateningly and retreated to his area, where his music was blasting now that there were no customers to overhear.
Jisung sat on the floor of the bar, just behind the counter, a glass of ice water in his hand, and his mind going in circles. The nausea in his stomach had decreased considerably, but the rest of him was now adjusting to the nerves buzzing through his body.
It had been a busy night, customers steadily streaming in and out throughout the dinner hours, and the restaurant slowly bursting into action, a steady but slightly chaotic flow beginning to become apparent to the young man. He noticed the other employees effortlessly dodging and swerving around each other to avoid collision as they managed the masses of people ordering food and drinks, and he watched in slight awe. As he shadowed Chan, who was mixing and serving drinks nonstop as well as smiling and chatting with the customers and keeping a kind eye on the dining room in case they needed anything, Jisung quietly got the feeling he could fit in here. He could do this job. He could get used to this flow, this energy. It was nothing like his other jobs, and he started to feel comfortable.
Chan introduced him to the two servers early into the dinner rush, and Felix and Hyunjin had welcomed him with open arms. Hyunjin had a beautiful smile and he kindly offered to help Jisung with anything he needed, and Felix had excitedly reassured him he was doing great when he seemed to be struggling with a particular drink, having watched Chan make it a million times by then and deciding to try it himself.
The shift had gone by in a blur and now he sat, exhausted, sipping ice water and listening to the conversations happening around him as he rested quickly.
“Hey, you doing okay over here?”
Jisung whipped his head up to see Felix smiling down at him from where he’d poked his head over the counter. He smiled and waved, setting his glass down and nodding.
“Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks.”
Felix nodded and turned to talk to Chan, who was wiping down the bar for the night. He watched them interact and noticed Felix become much more relaxed and gentle with his movements and voice when he was around Chan. When he and Hyunjin danced around each other in the dining room, he let his deep voice ring out and his wide smile blind anyone in a twelve-foot radius. But now, he was soft and quiet, almost babying Chan a little. Jisung wondered if it was because Chan was in charge, or if there was something else going on between them.
He shook his head, as if to shake the thoughts out of him, none of your beeswax, sung.
Felix had shoulder-length blond hair that he wore in a low pony and had long bangs that framed his face, highlighting his blue eyes and light freckles. He wore his uniform over skinny jeans and high-top sneakers, the red of the restaurant uniform shirt making his skin shine differently. From what Jisung had picked up, hearing him converse with Hyunjin and Chan both, he went to college along with Hyunjin and they frequently took the same bus to go from campus to the restaurant. Jisung had giggled when he noticed Hyunjin and Felix competing for who had gotten the most tips that night, and how they seemed to playfully fight for the cutest customers or the solo tables with single men.
Jisung’s third night
Jisung was frozen, blinking dumbly as the man gestured wildly with his hands, shouting complaints and ridiculous assumptions, while his face was slowly turning red. Jisng swallowed hard and tried to listen to the man’s mean words to try and save the situation, but soon his knees began knocking together and his brain started going blank. He quietly looked over to the bar where Chan was already watching and saw the man nod and begin walking over. Thank God for the most observant manager in the world.
Jisung nodded and quietly interrupted the man, “I’m sorry you’re so upset, my manager will be here shortly to assist you in any way he can-“ he clutched the pen and notepad he held close to his chest so hard his fingers ached and burned. He felt his throat begin to sour and nervous tears make their way to his eyes.
Come on, Chan … he thought to himself as the customer huffed and angrily folded his arms and waited. He glared at Jisung as if it was the boy’s fault that his card had been declined.
Jisung nervously looked over his shoulder to see where Chan had gone and saw him stopped at a table to help Hyunjin with something, before turning to make his way to the front desk where the man had begun to edge closer into Jisung’s space. The man was old, ugly, and mean and Jisung had begun to sweat nervously, worried something might happen before Chan got to the front.
When Chan was about five paces away, the man’s hand shot out to grab Jisung’s lapel, shaking him viciously.
“This young man is trying to rob me! You need to have him fired! Now!”
“Sir, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave …” Chan swooped in and grabbed the man by his elbow, yanking him off Jisung with practiced ease and leading him toward the doors, calm and collected. Jisung stared in awe, not even having processed the fact that the man grabbed him. It all happened so fast.
Slowly, he got himself together, putting the pen and pad down and running a hand through his hair, clearing his throat, blinking back the anxious tears, and taking a shaky deep breath. He was fine. It was one customer. Nothing even happened. And, Chan had it handled now. It was all fine.
But his stomach still clenched with fear and pain and what if’s. He straightened up as he saw Chan walking back through the front doors, care-free, as if nothing had happened.
He made eye contact with Jisung and walked over, his eyebrows notching in concern.
“Hey, you okay? He didn’t hurt you, right?”
Jisung shook his head, trying to keep the emotions at bay.
“No, he didn’t … I’m okay, hyung …” he tried to smile but he knew it looked weird. He shuffled his feet and glanced around awkwardly.
Chan smiled gently and placed a sympathetic hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s gone, now? Okay? I took care of it … you did everything right. I promise. And I’m sorry. I wish I had gotten to him sooner. But you did so good, Okay?”
Jisung felt the nerves disperse and his shoulders relaxed. He absorbed Chan’s words and took another deep breath, this time smiling genuinely.
“Okay.”
Felix had watched the whole thing go down from his spot by the computer. He had just put in his table’s food and was waiting for Seungmin to bring him the drinks. He stared at Jisung as the man started to creep closer and wondered if he should hurry over before it got worse. The customer then started yelling, and Felix noticed Jisung shrink into himself while managing to keep a brave face, intersecting with de-escalation tactics, even if his voice wobbled and his hands shook. Felix’s eyes darted to Chan and noticed he was already on the way to Jisung, so he relaxed.
After he watched Chan escort the man out, he saw Jisung barely avoid a melt-down then and there, taking visible deep breaths and trying not to burst into tears. It had been a lot, the man encroaching in on his space and then grabbing him like that. But, somehow Jisung seemed more affected by it than Felix would have assumed.
He tried not to think about what kind of situation Jisung had been through that might have given him this kind of reaction, because that was none of his business. But, he still worried. He still felt protective over the boy. And he would do anything to take care of him.
“What’s wrong?” Hyunjin had saddled up next to him and started typing into the computer, noticing Felix glued to the front desk, his arms folded and his stance a little too tight for 10 o’clock at night.
Felix hummed. “Oh, nothing. Jisung-ah’s getting picked on already, that’s all. I feel bad.”
Hyunjin glanced up, worry etched on his face. “Chan-hyung’s got it?” he asked, kindly.
“Yeah, but, I don’t know …” Felix sighed quietly. “The kid looks like it really rattled him.”
Hyunjin finished typing orders into the computer and stood next to him, shoving his pencils and pad into his pocket. “Well, isn’t this his first job? It’s gotta be overwhelming …”
Felix shook his head. “I don’t know.”
They watched as Chan walked back in and made sure Jisung was alright. The boy nodded his head reassuringly, but the two servers knew he was putting on a brave face for their boss/coworker. They watched Chan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and he visibly relaxed, nodding again, and Chan walked back to the bar.
Hyunjin turned to Felix and smiled kindly. “You’re sweet to watch out for him, you know?”
Felix pouted, sticking his lip out obnoxiously and he sassed, “Oh, I know.”
The routine was complex, but the boys made it fun. Everyone meandered in around 3 or 4 pm, clocked in and got into their uniforms. Once they had replaced the morning staff, they quickly got into their own rhythm, and then the smiles and jesting began. Hyunjin and Felix would start a crazy bet on something silly like getting phone numbers from singles, and Chan would giggle at them from where he was stationed at the bar. Jisung would settle into the seating hostess booth and begin greeting customers with a wide, comfortable smile. Seungmin, Changbin, and Minho all, for the most part silently, made dishes and set up the line for dinner.
Dinner came and went every day with little to no issues. The energy spiked with each surge of customers, and the boys had fun running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Jeongin would clock in at around this time, squeezing through the masses and shuffle into the dish room, rolling his sleeves up like a disgruntled ninja.
Dinner slowed down at around 10, and everyone started cleaning up and completing their pre-closing tasks. That was usually when the servers would rotate their breaks and Chan would also break for manager duties. Hyunjin and Seungmin would pop into the bar if needed while Chan was in the office, mixing drinks and closing down.
11 pm came and the doors were locked, the last of the customers leaving, and the closing duties began. Hyunjin and Felix would soar around the dining area, cleaning tables and chairs and floors and surfaces, laughing and singing with each other. Seungmin and Changbin would clean the majority of the line, Seungmin bringing dishes back to Jeongin and glaring as he did so, being sure to place every dish in the wrong sink and earning him a glare in return. Minho cleaned the grill and the back of house floors, silently taking the trashes out the back as well.
Once everyone was finished, having helped each other if they were finished early, Chan locked the office and turned off the lights, and they all walked out the side door to the parking lot. Chan and Minho both had cars, Hyunjin’s mother was there to give him and Felix a ride home and sometimes Changbin, Seungmin and Jeongin both took the bus home, and Jisung rode a bicycle. They all said or nodded their goodbyes and went home to sleep.
One night, Chan watched Minho get into his car as non-creepily as one could. He noticed the boy being especially quiet and reserved that evening and had felt spikes of worry dig into his chest. Now, as he slowly climbed into his car and started it, he thought for sure he saw Minho drive off, tears streaming silently down his characteristically blank face. Chan froze, the spikes in his chest twisting quietly in fear. Maybe it was sweat. No, it was December. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was … nevermind.
He stared at his steering wheel in silence, his mind buzzing quietly. He drove home without music, wondering if any of the traffic lights he drove under were even green.
Seungmin and Jeongin sat on opposite sides of the bus, both with their heads bowed, headphones on, hoods up, and phones in their hands. No one else was on the bus. The rocking and other-worldly blue light of the bus gave the scene a soft hue, something starkly different from the atmosphere they created at work every day. Silence covered the two teenagers in a blanket, muffling the outside world briefly and providing a bubble of … something. Freedom perhaps. Safety perhaps.
As they rocked and swerved through the streets, nearing midnight, Seungmin nodded off and his phone dropped the bus floor, unnoticed by the sleeping boy.
Jeongin’s eyes snapped up and watched Seungmin for a while, before he tucked his phone into his pocket and got up, crouching down to grab Seungmin’s phone. He brushed it off on his jeans as if they had some magic, bus-germ-cleaning powers and placed it gently on the other boy’s lap. Seungmin didn’t wake.
The younger of the pain stood there staring down at the sleeping boy for a solid two minutes before sighing, feeling defeated by his own brain, and sat down on the seat on Seungmin’s left, plunking his backpack by his feet. After another two minutes of silence, he moved a little closer, nudging Seungmin’s shoulder feather-softly, until the sleeping boy’s head gently landed on Jeongin’s shoulder, his sleep deepening slightly.
Jeongin smiled to himself and leaned back, closing his eyes as well.
It had been three weeks since Jisung had started, and Chan had just passed his evaluation, welcoming him to the team and finishing his training. Jisung had been excited when Chan finalized everything, and it truly felt like he was a part of their crazy little team now. It had been going smoothly. Everyone had welcomed him, even Seungmin who was skeptical at first. The restaurant had three weeks of great sales now that the holiday season had begun and everyone was out shopping, and their profits were doing well. The other managers had even spoken to Chan about how well he’d been leading the night shift team during the week.
So, what the hell was going on with him? Why did he walk into work every night ready to tear off his skin and pull all his hair out? And why couldn’t he stop thinking about a certain line cook all of a sudden?
Minho was scary, everyone knew that. He didn’t say a word unless it was an emergency, so everyone left him alone for the most part. Chan didn’t really interact with Minho most nights until the end of the shift, when they were all clocking out and leaving. But Chan had responsibilities, so he checked on the line throughout the night, and somehow grew captivated by the lonely figure tending the grill each night, ignoring the world bustling around him, and seeming completely and utterly stuck in his own head.
Minho was miserable, and Chan knew that. But, he didn’t talk and didn’t give the appearance of someone who would want to talk, so Chan never brought it up. Minho showed up to work every day and did well, smiling bleakly at the other boys’ jokes and teasing, and doing exceptionally well at his job. Chan had no idea what the boy’s life was like outside of work, and he had no right to even wonder about it.
But … Minho often locked eyes with Chan across the restaurant and the world could be burning around them, but there were libraries of words in Minho’s eyes and Chan was starving for them. It felt like Minho was dying to communicate but never actually taking that step … always looking away first or managing to move away quicker so they never bumped into one another. It left Chan feeling empty, panicked … a stranger feeling he’d never felt.
What the hell was going on with him?
Chan sat on the floor of the walk-in cooler, on his break, a forgotten granola bar in his fist and his breath beginning to fog in front of his face. He pressed a hand to his chest to stop the rising pain and tried to take a deep breath.
It was just one night. He had to finish this one night. The boys needed him tonight, he couldn’t … he had to …
“Fucking hell …” he muttered, cramming the granola bar into his pocket and smoothing his hair back, preparing to go back out into the back of house, he needed to restock the bar before the second rush began.
He placed his hand on the door to push it open, but it flung open from the other side and left him almost tumbling forward onto his face. He swore again, gained his footing, and looked up to see who had opened the door so quickly.
Minho blinked at him owlishly and stepped to the side patiently, for him to move so he could get to what he needed. He looked empty, his eyes devoid of their usual sparkle, and Chan felt those awful chest pains return, the ones he worked so hard to get rid of. They came back with vigor, and with them, a nervous bubbly feeling in his ears and his stomach, almost like he’d drank a soda too quickly and the carbonation was seeking strange outlets, leaving him tingly and scatter-brained.
He stepped out of the walk-in awkwardly, bowing a little to Minho as he passed, and silently strode back to his station, his insides freaking out and rebelling. He worked hard to keep a cool composure, staying calm and collected to lead his team tonight, but he was quickly becoming tired … only thinking about how much he wanted to go home, climb in bed, and scream into his pillow.
But. He couldn’t do that. He needed to be here. He had to finish the night. He could do that. He could be here for the boys for this night. He had to. He could. He knew he could. He’d done it a thousand times before. He was strong. He could.
He could, damn it.