Dongmin stepped into the bustling sandwich place, he felt a little embarrassed. Clearly all that product placement in K-dramas was getting to him, but he’d been having a hankering for a sub sandwich for a week now, and he was bound and determined to get one. He’d walked by this particular restaurant dozens of times and never gone in, but today he’d finally caved.
At first the blast of cool air was a relief against the sweltering summer humidity. As a city prosecutor, he had to wear a suit and tie every day, and on days like today he wished he’d gotten a job that allowed for more comfortable clothing. In university, he’d enjoyed the freedom from school uniforms — until his military service. Now he had to wear a whole different kind of uniform, but there was no summer option.
Then Dongmin came up short, surprised at how crowded the place was. Maybe he wasn’t the only person who’d been seduced not only by scenes of characters munching on sandwiches in K-dramas but also the melodramatic commercials starring porcelain-skinned K-pop idols and actors smoldering at the camera and pretending they knew how to cook.
Except for Rocky. Real name Park Minhyuk, he’d been two years behind Dongmin in high school, a handsome but quiet, solemn-faced boy who’d debuted right after Dongmin graduated — literally two days after the graduation ceremony — and worked steadily, slowly climbing his way toward stardom with the rest of his team, Astro, as their main dancer and lead rapper and one of their best vocalists despite rarely being afforded vocal parts. He’d entered and won numerous dance competitions, a masked competition being the one that shot him to stardom for wowing all the judges while anonymous. He’d also acted in dramas and musicals, and he modeled —
And Dongmin had seen everything he’d been in.
Including all of his fast food commercials.
So now here Dongmin was, standing in line to get a sub sandwich and revisiting his fond memories of tutoring young Park Minhyuk in Korean literature. If Dongmin tuned out the world around him, he could remember the way Minhyuk’s eyes lit when he puzzled out the meaning behind a metaphor in a poem, or the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he penned the opening paragraph of an essay about a short story.
Dongmin could relive Minhyuk’s shy smile as he bowed and presented Dongmin with a roll of homemade kimbap in gratitude for helping Minhyuk pass his literature exam.
“Dongmin-sunbae.”
His voice was a little husky and soft, had deepened over the years, but —
“Dongmin-sunbae, it’s really you!”
Dongmin blinked.
And stared.
He was at the front of the line, finally able to order a sandwich.
And standing on the other side of the counter from him was none other than Park Minhyuk. Rocky.
“Hi,” Minhyuk said, waving one gloved hand. He was wearing one of the cheap polyester uniform shirts, a visor and a clear mask. The nametag on his shirt read Rocky.
“H-hello,” Dongmin said, bowing his head slightly. “You — what are you doing working fast food? Is everything all right? Last I heard you were cast in a new drama…?”
Minhyuk laughed. “I’m fine! Just doing some promo.” He beamed and posed — and that was when Dongmin saw the life-size cardboard cutout of Minhyuk, done up in all his Rocky glory, making the same pose right next to the counter.
“So, what can I get for you?” Minhyuk asked.
Dongmin’s mind went blank. “Um. What do you recommend?”
“Hm. I remember sunbae doesn’t really like spicy food, but you really like beef. I bet you’d like a roast beef sandwich. What kind of bread do you want?”
“You remember?” Dongmin asked.
“Of course! Sunbae was such a good help to me in school. How could I forget the smartest and most handsome boy? They called you Face Genius, right?”
Dongmin felt his face heat. “Ah, no one’s called me that in years.”
He noticed the other workers behind the counter staring at him, and when he cast about he could see plenty of the other restaurant patrons were looking at him as well. Most of them, he realized, were girls, high school and university students. No wonder the restaurant had seemed more crowded than usual.
Dongmin managed to pull himself together long enough to order a sandwich. He watched how Minhyuk assembled the sandwich with calm, easy competence. But Dongmin knew Minhyuk was a good cook in real life, unlike a lot of people who modeled for food brands.
Dongmin was disappointed when someone else rang him up. Minhyuk was already distracted with helping another customer — a starry-eyed teenage girl — so Dongmin accepted his sandwich and drink and went to find a small table to sit at and eat by himself.
Minhyuk had remembered him. Impossible. He’d been so busy training while he was a student that hardly any of his classmates had known him well. But of course Minhyuk was just being polite and friendly, the way people expected idols to be in public. It wasn’t like Dongmin was special. Which. Had Dongmin given himself away? By admitting all he knew about Minhyuk’s career.
The brainpower Dongmin usually directed toward building cases to take to trial was instead aimed straight at the question of how much he’d embarrassed himself in front of the idol he had a stupid crush on, and he was so busy thinking himself into a downward spiral that he didn’t notice when someone came up to his table.
“Sunbae?”
Dongmin yelped and pressed a hand to his chest, his hear racing.
Minhyuk smiled gently at him. “You’re still so jumpy.”
“You — you remember?”
“Of course I remember you,” Minhyuk said softly, almost too soft to be heard below the din. He stepped closer and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Seems like you remember me too.”
Dongmin swallowed hard and said nothing, feeling his cheeks burn.
“Do you remember that time in the library? When it was late, and it was just us, and I’d skipped going to the company for training?” Minhyuk asked.
That was one memory Dongmin had never let himself revisit, sure it was some kind of fever dream.
Why would Park Minhyuk have kissed him?
Minhyuk leaned in even closer. “I remember.”
Dongmin could only look at him, eyes wide.
“I’ll be working fast food all week. See you for lunch tomorrow, sunbae.” Minhyuk winked, straightened up, and walked away.
Dongmin immediately fished his phone out of his pocket and emailed his secretary, instructing her to reschedule all his lunchtime meetings this week. He had new memories to make.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fill: Astro, pre-Dongmin/Minhyuk, famous/not famous AU
Date: 2024-09-11 05:09 pm (UTC)At first the blast of cool air was a relief against the sweltering summer humidity. As a city prosecutor, he had to wear a suit and tie every day, and on days like today he wished he’d gotten a job that allowed for more comfortable clothing. In university, he’d enjoyed the freedom from school uniforms — until his military service. Now he had to wear a whole different kind of uniform, but there was no summer option.
Then Dongmin came up short, surprised at how crowded the place was. Maybe he wasn’t the only person who’d been seduced not only by scenes of characters munching on sandwiches in K-dramas but also the melodramatic commercials starring porcelain-skinned K-pop idols and actors smoldering at the camera and pretending they knew how to cook.
Except for Rocky. Real name Park Minhyuk, he’d been two years behind Dongmin in high school, a handsome but quiet, solemn-faced boy who’d debuted right after Dongmin graduated — literally two days after the graduation ceremony — and worked steadily, slowly climbing his way toward stardom with the rest of his team, Astro, as their main dancer and lead rapper and one of their best vocalists despite rarely being afforded vocal parts. He’d entered and won numerous dance competitions, a masked competition being the one that shot him to stardom for wowing all the judges while anonymous. He’d also acted in dramas and musicals, and he modeled —
And Dongmin had seen everything he’d been in.
Including all of his fast food commercials.
So now here Dongmin was, standing in line to get a sub sandwich and revisiting his fond memories of tutoring young Park Minhyuk in Korean literature. If Dongmin tuned out the world around him, he could remember the way Minhyuk’s eyes lit when he puzzled out the meaning behind a metaphor in a poem, or the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he penned the opening paragraph of an essay about a short story.
Dongmin could relive Minhyuk’s shy smile as he bowed and presented Dongmin with a roll of homemade kimbap in gratitude for helping Minhyuk pass his literature exam.
“Dongmin-sunbae.”
His voice was a little husky and soft, had deepened over the years, but —
“Dongmin-sunbae, it’s really you!”
Dongmin blinked.
And stared.
He was at the front of the line, finally able to order a sandwich.
And standing on the other side of the counter from him was none other than Park Minhyuk. Rocky.
“Hi,” Minhyuk said, waving one gloved hand. He was wearing one of the cheap polyester uniform shirts, a visor and a clear mask. The nametag on his shirt read Rocky.
“H-hello,” Dongmin said, bowing his head slightly. “You — what are you doing working fast food? Is everything all right? Last I heard you were cast in a new drama…?”
Minhyuk laughed. “I’m fine! Just doing some promo.” He beamed and posed — and that was when Dongmin saw the life-size cardboard cutout of Minhyuk, done up in all his Rocky glory, making the same pose right next to the counter.
“So, what can I get for you?” Minhyuk asked.
Dongmin’s mind went blank. “Um. What do you recommend?”
“Hm. I remember sunbae doesn’t really like spicy food, but you really like beef. I bet you’d like a roast beef sandwich. What kind of bread do you want?”
“You remember?” Dongmin asked.
“Of course! Sunbae was such a good help to me in school. How could I forget the smartest and most handsome boy? They called you Face Genius, right?”
Dongmin felt his face heat. “Ah, no one’s called me that in years.”
He noticed the other workers behind the counter staring at him, and when he cast about he could see plenty of the other restaurant patrons were looking at him as well. Most of them, he realized, were girls, high school and university students. No wonder the restaurant had seemed more crowded than usual.
Dongmin managed to pull himself together long enough to order a sandwich. He watched how Minhyuk assembled the sandwich with calm, easy competence. But Dongmin knew Minhyuk was a good cook in real life, unlike a lot of people who modeled for food brands.
Dongmin was disappointed when someone else rang him up. Minhyuk was already distracted with helping another customer — a starry-eyed teenage girl — so Dongmin accepted his sandwich and drink and went to find a small table to sit at and eat by himself.
Minhyuk had remembered him. Impossible. He’d been so busy training while he was a student that hardly any of his classmates had known him well. But of course Minhyuk was just being polite and friendly, the way people expected idols to be in public. It wasn’t like Dongmin was special. Which. Had Dongmin given himself away? By admitting all he knew about Minhyuk’s career.
The brainpower Dongmin usually directed toward building cases to take to trial was instead aimed straight at the question of how much he’d embarrassed himself in front of the idol he had a stupid crush on, and he was so busy thinking himself into a downward spiral that he didn’t notice when someone came up to his table.
“Sunbae?”
Dongmin yelped and pressed a hand to his chest, his hear racing.
Minhyuk smiled gently at him. “You’re still so jumpy.”
“You — you remember?”
“Of course I remember you,” Minhyuk said softly, almost too soft to be heard below the din. He stepped closer and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Seems like you remember me too.”
Dongmin swallowed hard and said nothing, feeling his cheeks burn.
“Do you remember that time in the library? When it was late, and it was just us, and I’d skipped going to the company for training?” Minhyuk asked.
That was one memory Dongmin had never let himself revisit, sure it was some kind of fever dream.
Why would Park Minhyuk have kissed him?
Minhyuk leaned in even closer. “I remember.”
Dongmin could only look at him, eyes wide.
“I’ll be working fast food all week. See you for lunch tomorrow, sunbae.” Minhyuk winked, straightened up, and walked away.
Dongmin immediately fished his phone out of his pocket and emailed his secretary, instructing her to reschedule all his lunchtime meetings this week. He had new memories to make.