*For comedic effect (or at least i hope dear god)  there’s profanity, so please refrain from reading if that’s not your jam.

He fell asleep again. Again.

You inherited the family book store recently, and while you didn’t mind being surrounded by books, dust, and dim lighting every day, you certainly did mind the people.

Also known as customers.

And apparently you had to be nice to them? Even the ones that requested Plato like they were some kind of refined connoisseur when in actuality they bought the books to take up space?

The very thought made you shiver.

But for the second time this week there was this guy, giant frame curled up on the ground and wedged between two towering wooden shelves. And he was sleeping. Again.

His chin was touching his chest and he clutched a novel, open halfway, in his giant hands.

“Hey.” You gave a nudge. “I’m closing, you need to leave.” And sleep in your own goddamn house.  The giant mound of fabric and skin showed no signs of life. “Yo giant man with the ears. Wake UP.” You gave a slight kick to his . Who even falls asleep in bookstores? Is he a man-child? Who the hell raised this punk?

He groaned and shifted, hood of his parka slipping off his head, revealing hair that was dyed grey.

Are you ing kidding me. You had to choke back your snort of laughter.

His eyes were open now, a moment passed before they widened in surprise, and what you hoped was also shame, because people shouldn’t fall asleep in public places goddammit. Your eyes wandered down to his hands again and noticed that he closed the book, you peered at the cover, eager to see just how pretentious this guy was.

Holy .

Your head snapped up, now your eyes reflected his wide ones, your eyes glanced quickly from the cover to his face, to the cover, and back again. If it was even possible, his eyes widened even more you thought they were going to pop out.

“I-it’s for school. I swear.”

So the giant could speak.

“What school makes you read that??” You questioned, voice slightly higher than usual, clearly startled by his choice.

“It was on the list. For my university. We’re doing a study on banned books. Judging by your reaction you’ve probably read it?” Now he had the nerve to smirk at you, one eyebrow arching.

“Well, yeah. I own this bookstore. I should probably read everything I sell. And what better way to protest censorship than by selling 120 Days of Sodom and- oh my god is that drool?” You pointed to a wet stain that had seeped into a significant portion of the book’s side and cover.

Oh jesus please let that be drool and not-

The mortified man leap to his feet and you realized just how tall he was, towering over you by at least a foot or so. A blush crept into his cheeks.

“Yeah, It happens when I sleep. I swear I’m not by De Sade okay. If anything he makes me feel nauseous.” And he ran a hand through his parted hair.

“Sure. But you better buy that copy now.” You responded, crossing your arms. There’s no way you could sell a book with someone’s mouth bacteria on it, that had to violate some health code somewhere.

“Ok fair enough..” He flipped the book over to look at the price while he followed you the front of the store. He dug for his wallet and you stepped behind the cash register. The store was quiet and calm while you rang up the purchase. Slipping the book into a bag, you snuck a peek at his credit card before handing it back, along with the bag.

Chanyeol.  

But he did not leave.

Leaning on the counter, resting his head in his hand,  that smirk was back along with the godforsaken eyebrow.

“How about some coffee? I promise to not asleep.”