Chapter 7: Dried Pollack Soup, Dried Squids.

Ordinary people spend their weekends with their family, friends, or work colleagues. I, too, got to spend the weekend with family, friends, and work colleagues. Only, none of them were MY family, friends, or colleagues. Why was a convenience store such an appealing place during the weekend? Husbands played together in the gambling machines. Their wives looked around, choosing a few snacks, and mostly beer, for themselves. Children ran around with sticky hands from candy they had just been eating. And of course, perverted assholes tried flirting with me.

"That'll be $21,111.85 won" I finished packing the bag. As the dude was leaving, he winked and shot a flying kiss towards me. I caught it and threw it in the trash. The day went by slowly, minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days. How long have I been here? How did the outside world look now? The coldness of the beer I was putting in the coolers kept me awake.

Six hours later, I was preparing to leave, even if I still had one hour left, there was still a lot of stocking to do. The morning shift didn't have a security guard because, according to my boss, none robs in broad daylight. I chuckled as I remember telling him that if we ever got robbed during the day, I would give the robber the key to the gambling machines, and the keys to the store security box, where all the money was. Then, I would walk out, not call the police, and send him a text informing him I was quitting and never coming back.

Of course, I wasn't going to do that. I would probably stand in line waiting for the robber to fire the gun and then sue my boss, so I could get money. But, the first threat had been good enough for him to put a secret police alarm underneath the register. It was the exact same one they used in banks, because no matter what, my boss loved money, and he wouldn't let anybody take it away from him. Aside from that, the cameras had been improved, and now the recording even had audio, even if that was more or less illegal.

"Noona! Give us some candy!" Three little children grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled.

"These aren't candies, they are pills, and unless you're sick and have money to buy them, I'm not giving you guys anything." I scrambled away from their reach. Just to be stopped by a gigantic woman in her mid-thirties, by the look on her face, I deduced one thing. These rug rats were hers.

"Ha, ha. May I help you, ajumma?" I smiled, but my nerves were eating me alive. I can deal with drunk guys. Gambling players who would become drunk after losing their paycheck, and teenagers trying to buy alcohol. What I feared the most was this. Ajummas. Ajummas with spoiled and entitled brats.

"How much are these candies?" She pointed at the box I held.

"He, he. These aren't candies. You see-"

"I asked you how much they were." She cut me off. I felt my left eyebrow twitch, nevertheless, I gave her a big smile.

"Let's go to the register, I'll scan them and tell you then" I went to the register without waiting for an answer, and just let her follow after me. After a small 'beep' I told her the price.

"15,000 won" I said and watched in delight as her face turned pale. Well, there goes your attitude, honey. She looked down at her child, then started laughing and talking to me as if we were old pals.

"Oh, well. You're a hardworking girl. I also work hard. Women are meant to empower one another, am I right?" I gave her a smile with closed eyes. My lips twitched, as it was becoming unbearable to keep smiling at her. This bitch.

"Ha, ha." Letting my smile drop, I pulled my usual deadpan face. "I don't change prices." Her laughs stopped abruptly. I stared back at her. But thank God the register was high enough that she couldn't see my legs, which at this point felt more like jelly than bones. With a 'hmph!' and glaring back at me, she exited the store, yelling for her husband to come out. I saw the man being dragged out minutes later by her. I shook my head, but let myself breathe evenly from them on. Going back out, I finished filling up the beer coolers. The soju was meant to be restocked until later that day, so after finishing my task, I went to the break area. I picked up a few cushions and set them straight on the sofa. Then, without waiting for anything else to happen, and given that I had barely ten minutes left, began counting my drawer, and doing my report.

I had the bills spread out and sorted by their worth. I was in the middle of counting when it happened.

A stampede of teenagers entered the store, looking like hungry and desperate lions. High schoolers, who probably were just now getting out of school. They went on a rampage and grabbed everything they could, in the blink of an eye I had a line that ran through the whole store, and impatient brats demanding I check them out.

Every. Damn. Time.

I flashed through the whole scanning process, probably giving out some free items. I didn't care, no matter what, I was not about to get stuck in this store for longer than I needed to. My shift ended at 4. So I was leaving at 4. Less than 7 minutes later, the plague of hormonal teenagers was out. And now, after hearing the bell announce the entrance of another person, I looked up, a complete mess, huffing and panting.

"What now?" I hissed. Then relaxed as I saw Wendy looking at me through the glass.

"Well, I can leave if you want to. Seems like you're having fun," She said as she turned on her heels, towards the door.

"NO" I yelled. A pleading look on my face.

"Then open the door, otherwise how can I get in?" She asked, a hand on her hip.

"Oh. He, he" I went to unlock the door, giving her access to the inside of the room. She bowed playfully and went to clock in. I squatted down to pick up the money bills that had been flying around and left forgotten during my whole rush moment. Counting the money, I became aware of something.

I was short on money.

Fuck.

Wendy turned around at the sound of something slamming against the register box, just to find Miyeon banging her head again and again while murmuring, "What have I done?" She giggled a bit.

"What's so funny? No sympathy for your comrade who is about to be fired?" I asked, looking up.

"I'm laughing at my distracted comrade." She bent down and picked up a bill from the floor. I felt my eyes spark up with hope. She handed it to me and I started counting.

"IT'S ALL HERE!" I raised my arms in triumph. Then wiggled around in a little dance.

"Well, now, may I have the register?" Wendy asked as she stepped beside me. I dashed to pick up everything and wrapped up my report. Then, threw it inside the black security box. Rushing to grab my things, I kicked the door and basically flew out of the store. Then, I came back in.

"Keys," I said as Wendy was already handing them to me. "Clock out for me, please, thank you, you're a goddess" I bowed repeatedly and left without waiting for a reply. I ran to the train station. A few yards away, I heard the train starting to pull up. As I arrived, the train stopped, waiting for the doors to open felt like an eternity. Once inside, I flopped into a seat and kicked the floor, as if that would make the train go faster. The forty-five-minute trip felt dreadful. I even entertained the thought of jumping out and doing the rest on foot. But declined the idea after seeing how fast the train was actually moving. The last stop was mine. And once the conductor announced it, I shot up from my seat and exited out through the barely open doors. I ran to my apartment, hiked the stairs as if I had become the best Olympic competitor. Turning a corner, I saw him. I beamed with enthusiasm.

"Haru!" I called out. Haruki turned around, and returned the energy.

"Miyeon!" He raised his hand as a greeting, American style, he called it. I jogged towards him and arrived next to him with a little jump. He gave me a cheeky smile and I hurried to open the door.

"Are you ready?" I said, anticipation eating me alive.

"I was born ready," His reply gave me the little confidence boost I needed.

Having been a loner for most of my life, having friends over was a first for me. I had woken up at 4, even though my shift didn't start until 8, I decided to tidy up a bit more before leaving for the day. I had deep cleaned the whole apartment the day before. Including walls, corners, and the most insignificant details. Not being able to afford much, I worked with what I had. However, I took extreme pride in taking care of my stuff, cleaning it, and polishing it every day. It gave me a sense of security, as small as it was, it was livable, fresh, and with a touch of cinnamon and vanilla scent.

"Wow…" Haruki let out while stepping inside after changing his shoes. I had bought a special pair for him. This way, he knew he was welcome in my home anytime.

"Let's settle and start right away," I said. Haruki didn't need to hear it twice, he ran towards the couch and dived into it face first. Turning around, he raised his legs and arms in the air.

"This is going to be the best sleepover. EVER!" He kicked his legs in the air. I left him on the couch while I went to get changed. Once I was out, he helped me set snacks, junk food, drinks, and most importantly.

Chicken and beer.

"Cheers!" Our voices echoed. The TV was on with an action/horror movie we both had selected a few days before. Now we were both on the couch, munching on chips, chicken, and gulping down beer.

After a few drinks, it was an understatement to say we were drunk. We were currently laughing at the girl coming out of the TV, and if you listen closely, you could hear our frightening sobs, too. At one point, the carpet was filled with crumbs, empty cans, and a very drunk Haruki.

"Ha! Haha! Ha!" He laughed in between sips of air. I was currently choking down in my own saliva, as I had begun coughing after a fit of laughter. I was more than sure he was laughing at me. That, or he was laughing at the crumbs in the floor beside him, whom he had appointed as his servants.

I looked up at the ceiling, savoring the feeling of company. Wanted company. Not forced, not expecting a benefit from our friendship other than the sole support of the other. I let myself smile again, and small giggles kept coming out. I heard a small snort and closed my eyes. Morning would come and with it a nightmare of a headache. But this. This was worth it.

Both adults slept peacefully. At one point in the night, the blanket that covered Miyeon went to belong to Haruki, and Miyeon was left with the comfort of a cushion she snuggled against during the rest of the night. One of Haruki's legs had found a way to get entangled with the center table's leg. The coldness of the metal gave him a reason to turn around and bang his head against the couch. Now, none would ever know whether he never felt the hit, or if it was strong enough to knock him out once again.

~The next morning ~

"I want to throw myself off a bridge"

"Same"

And these were the not so much awaited repercussions of their actions from the day before.

After a warm shower, both were now on the couch of the living room. Holding their respective heads, groaning in unison.

"I-I help you clean in a minute," Haruki said, voice raspy and tired.

"I don't know how many minutes you need, but I need at least a few hours before doing any physical work," Miyeon mentioned, hugging a pillow that had come out of God knows where.

"Understandable,'' Haruki said, covering himself with a blanket, throwing part of it towards Miyeon as well.

"Both of our alcohol tolerance are weak" Miyeon stated, giving him a nod of approval when she felt the blanket.

"No shit." Haruki responded, laughing slightly.

"At the very least, today is Saturday," Miyeon said, humming a little tune, preparing to sleep some more. They had been prepared for the hangover and cooked the night before they started getting drunk. Early in the morning, after a couple of trips to the bathroom toilet, and the bathroom sink, they had wiped their mouths and had dried pollack soup. Had it not been for that, they would be even worse.

"Huh?" Haruki asked. Moving Miyeon with his foot.

"Hey, hey!" He called out.

"What?" Miyeon replied.

"Today is Sunday, not Saturday," He said.

"What? No. Today is…" She looked at her phone and saw the date.

"Shit." She murmured. Kicking the blanket out of her way, and somehow end up entangled even more.

"Help!" She yelled.

"Wait! Calm down! What's wrong!?" Haruki asked, attempting to free her from the soft prison.

"Late!" She screamed, stumbling to her room, from where she emerged a second later carrying a bag and a comb.

"Where are you going?" Haruki yelled as he followed her to the door, where she grabbed her shoes and ran barefooted outside while yelling, "I'll be back later! Clean up as much as you can!" Haruki watched her dash as she almost got hit by a passing car while crossing the street towards the train station. Then, he scratched his head in confusion, but went back inside. Once he turned around, he saw the mess that was left and sighed.

"Well, let's begin."

M&A University. Theater Room. 12:30 pm.

Dressed in his janitor uniform, Junseo waited at the entrance of the theater room, the "actors" and "actresses" were almost done with their rehearsal. Leaving him less than ten minutes before he had to begin his miserable mandatory community service hours.

"Out of everything, it had to be the theater, I don't even clean this place when I'm actually working," He murmured while peeking inside through the little square glass of the door. He looked at his phone and began to wonder where his 'partner' was.

"She is going to clean all of this by herself if she doesn't show up. Right. Now" He said, leaning forward trying to take a better view of the doors where Miyeon was supposed to come from. A minute passed, and he turned on his heels towards the opposite direction.

CRASH!

"Stop right there!"

He froze in his tracks, letting his head drop. 'So close' He thought. Turning around to face the reason for his misery. Letting his jaw drop when he saw her.

Panting, huffing, and sweating. Strands of hair going in different directions, as if she had taken the clothes out of a dryer and the static was playing tricks on her. The clothes she was wearing were in desperate need to be ironed, and she was barefooted. Her right hand held the shoes meant to be on her feet, and her left hand clenched at her chest, in a desperate attempt to slow down her racing heartbeat. All the while, part of her hair fell towards her face and stuck to it due to the sweat covering her forehead. Junseo closed a fist and moved it up to his mouth, looking somewhere else to avoid laughing at her.

"I want you to say something. I dare you," Miyeon said with a poisonous look.

"Nope! No comment," He said. Miyeon passed him, marching towards the theater room, which, because of how disoriented she was, happened to be in the opposite direction to which she was going. Junseo smirked and started walking in the right direction.

"Where do you think you're going?" Miyeon demanded. Junseo turned around and arched an eyebrow.

"To complete my community service hours. You?" He asked in a superior tone, as he pointed upwards, where the words "THEATER" were written in bold. Miyeon shut her mouth and followed reluctantly.

Once inside, Junseo's smile faded and Miyeon's expression became even more gloomy. The theater was a couple of hits from collapsing. Food, ropes, dresses, paint, brushes, mannequins, everything was there. Whatever play these people were doing, both tormented souls agreed to not inquire about it. The less they knew, the less traumatic this experience would be. At once, they began to clean, going to opposite sides of the room, starting with the seats on the upper floor, leaving the stage as a final task. From across the room, they could hear each other's complaints, but dare not speak to each other. As immature as they were, they realized talking to each other would only bring bickering, and since neither wanted to spend another precious minute there, they dedicated themselves to keeping quiet.

For the first hour.

"Oh, God! Don't you get paid to do this? How come you do it all wrong?" Miyeon shouted as she let the bucket full of soap hit the floor.

"Why are you coming to my side? I know what I'm doing!" Junseo raised his voice as well.

"No, you don't! Those are meant to be dry-cleaned, get them out of the laundry machine. NOW!" She ran towards him, pulling on the costumes he was about to wash in the little laundry the theater had.

"Let go!" He yelled.

"No! We are not even getting paid, if you ruin this, we might even get charged!" At her words, Junseo stopped, a thought circling his mind.

'There is no way in hell I can afford this expensive shit' He stopped their mini-tug of war.

"Thank you!" Miyeon said, putting the rest of the costumes back in the net, meant to be picked up later that day to take to dry cleaning.

"Well, would you look at that? Maybe this is working, you seem a bit more civilized now." He said, sharp tongue coming as natural as his good looks.

"Says the one jumping on people as soon as there is no device to record the evidence." She snapped back.

"Tsk." Junseo turned around and exited through the opposite door. Minutes later, it was him who was yelling at Miyeon.

"What is wrong with you?" He snatched the spray bottle from her hands.

"What?" She asked, holding the towel up, and stopping the wiping she was doing to the chairs.

"Can't you read?" He asked, pointing to the clear bottle with an orange shiny liquid inside. It had a picture of furniture in it.

"It's a furniture cleaning, for wood." She said slowly, Junseo only felt offended by her response.

"I meant this!" He pointed to the red bold letters on the side of the bottle. It read, 'DO NOT SPRAY THIS IN THE CHAIRS'

"Why?" Miyeon asked, a look of puzzlement on her face.

"I don't know! This is their shit, they have markings and instructions on every bottle." He pointed towards the buckets both of them were carrying, more specifically to the bottles inside. Each one had markings such as 'Do not use for tables in the back' 'Use only for mirrors' and such, even if the actual paper label of the bottle said something completely different.

"Why not just buy the actual liquids, and I don't know, throw this away?" Miyeon asked, squatting to grab another towel and dry the amount of cleaning oil in the chairs.

"They're on a budget," Junseo explained.

"Oh," Miyeon said, and once she was done with the one chair she looked up, realized she was now in the last row of the ten rows she had cleaned, each one with ten chairs in it. She looked horrified, but then an idea popped into her head.

"Hey, could you…?" She turned around, just to find herself alone. Turning to the sound of feet rushing down the stairs, she caught a glimpse of Junseo running before she could ask for help.

"Oh, come on!" She exclaimed, flopping her arms to her sides in a small tantrum.

Three hours later, and a few bottles flying across the room, the upper and lower floors were done. Now, it was time for their marvelous job to come to a closure.

"I'm not cleaning that."

Well, almost.

"Well, good luck explaining that to the Dean," Junseo said, but held back his lunch that threatened to come back out.

The front of the stage was a facade. As a result of them not checking the back of the stage, they had left it for last, thinking it would be a piece of cake.

They were wrong.

So, so, so wrong.

The smell of rotten leftovers filled their nostrils, giving them a nauseous feeling, and dizziness as they walked. The place looked like the house of a hoarder, full of useless, yet puzzling stuff. Boxes, swords, bullets, cigarettes, condoms, pregnancy tests, and more. For a moment, both of them trembled in fear as a clump of old and musty blankets started moving. Turns out, the missing cat of the theater had been living his best life behind the stage. Both looked at each other in disgust as flies flew everywhere, and the smell got worse the deeper they went. Dying out of holding their breath for too long seemed less painful than choking in the toxins of whatever was back there.

"This is too much," Miyeon exclaimed, both coming out through the curtains for a breath of air, beside her, Junseo nodded, flushed from the near-death experience.

"I think I saw those suits they use for cleaning criminal scenes in the back closet, near the exit." She turned around, determined to get them. Junseo nodded, still trying to recover. Miyeon rushed to get the suits. Minutes later, she returned with two biohazard suits, one of them was already protecting her. The other one was handed to Junseo. Putting on air masks, and putting two sets of gloves on, both were ready to face destiny once again. As they were mentally preparing to enter the hellhole, a voice from behind them interrupted their epic entrance to the halls of the abyss.

"Hello. Excuse me, I'm looking for my friends, they are meant to be cleaning…?" Jisoo's voice trailed as she recognized the two individuals wearing ghost hunter suits.

"Should I get you guys your guns, I think you might be a little unprepared." She said, holding back her snorts.

"Jisoo, why?" Junseo asked through his mask, eyes aflame while looking at Jisoo.

"What? Can I not visit you guys?" She asked, then turned to look at Miyeon.

"Haruki called and said to bring you some food, he is afraid you will overdo yourself after all the drinking last night," Jisoo noticed Miyeon's pleading gestures to shut up a bit too late. Junseo turned around to Miyeon. Even with the mask, Miyeon knew he was furious.

"Is that why you were late? Is that why you were throwing up earlier? You got drunk even though you knew you had responsibilities?" He yelled, it was then Jisoo realized she had made a mistake.

"No! I thought it wasn't until tomorrow, I thought today was Saturday!" Miyeon tried to explain.

"I thought you were sick! Yet, you had decided to come! Turns out you probably didn't even remember!" Junseo shouted.

"I just said it was an accident!" She raised her voice a lot higher this time, frustrated with him not listening to her.

"What was an accident?! Drinking!? Coming in late?! Coming at all?!" Junseo was tired, hungry and most of all he felt used. He had thought Miyeon was sick, yet admired her sense of responsibility, turns out she had come late because of her drinking the night before. He had even done most of the dreadful work, like picking up vomit because he heard her throw up and figured she had a weak stomach. He had had to swallow dozens of mints to get the sudden smell out of his palate before throwing up himself.

"No! I forgot, ok!? But I came!" She said as Junseo growled at her, and Miyeon felt his angry gaze through the mask. So immersed were they in the fight, they didn't notice Jisoo still standing there until she cleared her throat.

"Uhm, I think, I think I'm gonna leave" She attempted to run away.

"Why are you really here?" Junseo hissed.

"Moral support?" Jisoo asked, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

"Want to be sacrificed to the pits of hell that's behind those curtains?" Junseo asked, taking dangerously close steps to her. Jisoo gulped and backed off.

"No, thank you," She said, taking it as her cue to leave, she threw the bag towards Miyeon, who barely caught it. Then, she took off running.

"She could have helped us!" She said.

"I have a lot on my plate just babysitting you." Junseo scoffed while opening the bag she was holding and grabbed a water bottle and some dried squids. He sat down on the stage floor, taking off his gas mask, and began to eat. Miyeon looked at him expectantly. Junseo felt her gaze and shifted uncomfortably, their fight had ended, and not on good terms.

"Uhmm… I'm going to wash my hands." Miyeon said, leaving the bag near him, and running off to the bathroom. Junseo just watched as she went away. Then stared down at his snacks.

He wasn't hungry anymore.