“Do you ever get into fights, Jongin? Apparently high school guys get into fights a lot."

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like that type of person?”

“Apparently girls like backstab their friends and spread rumors and guys just full on fight. With fists and stuff.”

He snorted. “You don’t have friends to backstab.”

“Hey!”  

Chapter 24

“There’s literally nothing to eat in this house,” I complained, “Jinyoung, do you ever go shopping anymore?

My brother looked up from his laptop. “Didn’t you have dinner with Jongin?”

“Yeah, but we had food at four thirty — seriously, who eats at four thirty — and then…” Training after, but that didn’t suffice. “And it’s nine thirty now and I’m starving.”

Jinyoung waved a hand. “Starve until breakfast.”

“We don’t have food for breakfast.”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to brush me off yet again, but after a couple of seconds, he closed his laptop cover and set down the paper he was reading from. Then, out of habit, shoved his glasses higher up his nose. “I’m hungry too,” he said to my surprise as he stood up and stretched. “Let’s go to the convenience store and get ramen.”

I must’ve looked too surprised at that because Jinyoung raised a skeptical eyebrow at me and I tried to shrug it off, even though it really did mean a lot. He was almost always busy, and while he wasn’t a bad brother (he still tried -- even though his chicken noodle soup was horrible, he made time to actually make the soup for me), there was barely anytime we spent together simply for fun. And going to get ramen at nine thirty at a convenience store? The simple thought of it made me happy. Besides, I was hungry and ramen was always welcome.

“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing my coat. “You’re paying.”

“When do I not pay?”

“Remember that time in ninth grade when you promised to buy me ice cream but you forgot your wallet--”

“One time!”

I was exhausted from training, annoyed by homework, and hungry because Kai had given me dinner at four thirty. But for some reason, doing something so casual with Jinyoung made me feel a lot better. He shrugged on a very large jacket, which made him look taller than usual and lanky (just like Chanyeol). I felt small compared to him.  

We headed downstairs. The sky was already dark, but not completely. There weren’t many people milling around either, and it was unusually quiet for a Friday night. But quiet was nice, so I didn’t protest. Even with my Athanatoi senses shut off, quiet was… quiet.

The convenience store looked empty at first glance. The emptier the better.

Jinyoung hugged his arms to his chest, glancing around. “It’s chilly tonight,” he grumbled, “What kind of ramen are you getting this time?”

“Anything spicy.”

“You’re so dumb,” he said, snorting, “Are you buying something spicy just so I’ll get you a drink too?”

“You know me too well.”

He pushed open the door of the convenience store for me, and the bell rung as it opened. I began to think what kind of spicy ramen I should get -- there was a bunch of options, and it would be better if I even got two. Jinyoung would probably refuse, though. If I convinced him to buy me two bowls of ramen instead of a spicy one and a drink…

“Hey,” someone said in front of me, “It’s not that much money. Just let it off.”

The door shut behind us, but Jinyoung wasn’t moving.

I followed his gaze. At the checkout counter, a guy and a girl were standing. The man was leaning over the counter, a bottle of soft drink in his hand, and a scowl on his face. He had an arm around the girl, leaning forward so he was almost in the cashier’s face. The guy behind the counter couldn’t have been more than twenty five, and he looked both irritated and nervous at the same time.

“Sir,” he said through gritted teeth, “You’re missing quite a lot of money. I’m sorry, but you can’t buy that.”

The guy at the counter slammed his hand down, hard, and I jumped where I was standing. “Does it look like I’m asking your for permission?”

The guy at the counter shifted his weight nervously, though he still didn’t back down. He held up a phone. “Please leave,” he said, “Or I’ll have to report you for harassment. I can call the police right--”

Before he could finish his sentence, the man reached over and knocked the phone out of his hands. It fell and clattered to the floor loudly, and I flinched at the noise. He slammed the drink he’d bought onto the table. “I dare you to dial one of those numbers,” he growled. “Pick up your phone and you’re dead.”

The girl spoke up then, and she didn’t make me any less angry than her boyfriend did. There was something about them and the way they spoke that made me so mad (apart from the obvious), and I wanted to whack her in the face. That, and the fact that Jinyoung and I were supposed to be eating ramen peacefully at the moment.

“Look here,” she said to the cashier, “Why don’t you just shut up and listen to him? It’s just a drink. Do you want to get beat up over it?”

I came downstairs for ramen. And having a couple gang up on a cashier because they didn’t have enough money, throw his phone, and threaten to beat him up -- that made me mad. The entitled way they were speaking, the look on their faces -- I wanted to hit them.

Before I could say anything, Jinyoung took a step forward. It took one look at his face to see how unimpressed he was. His hands were folded across his chest, something he seldom did but also something that told me right away that he was angry. “Hey,” he said in a low voice, “Leave him alone. Just don’t get the drink this time. Is it that big of a deal? You’re the ones that don’t have the money, so why are you bothering him?”

The couple both turned to look at Jinyoung and I. The cashier did too, but he looked more scared. He seemed to be mouthing something at us, but I had never been good at reading lips.

“Mind your own ing business.” He was scowling. “Get out of here. Both of you. Unless you want to end up like that guy.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the cashier.

“You’re the one who should leave,” Jinyoung said calmly, “Or I’ll call the police. The both of you are already drunk. You shouldn’t be buying more beer.”

“You punk,” he growled, and at the same time his girlfriend turned to me. “Who the do you think you are?”

This was getting out of hand, I thought, and the girl stared at me. “You’re a little too young for him, aren’t you?”

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