keonho

11:53 pm. The old clock on the wall ticked faintly, its glass yellowed with age, just like the rest of this sad little gas station. You used to dream of becoming a fashion designer. Now you were stuck behind the counter, waiting for midnight to finally set you free.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a second, almost dozing off until the door creaked open. The bell chimed. Probably another drunk guy coming for beer, you thought. But no. This one looked way too good for this place. You could only see his back at first as he reached into the fridge for an energy drink.

Green camo shirt, white cross necklace, leather jacket, baggy jeans hanging low enough to show Calvin kleins. He turned, tossing a gum pack onto the counter beside the drink.

“How much is it, ma’am?” he asked.

You froze. That voice. That face. It was Keonho, the nerd from middle school who used to stutter through every sentence. He’d been kind of cute back then… but now? God, now he was unreal.

“Uh… ma’am?” he repeated, confused, while you just stood there staring, completely mortified.