Pop 19

The rain hadn’t let up, a silver curtain spilling down the glass doors of the convenience store.

Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed, rows of snacks and

bottled drinks glowing like jewels under neon.

Ashton and Leo both wet from the rain, stepped in,

their laughter still echoing from the restaurant fiasco.

Leo grabbed a basket, Ashton trailed behind, eyeing the shelves like a kid let loose in a candy shop.

“You eat this junk often?” Ashton teased, holding up a cup of spicy ramen.

Leo grinned. “Only at my lowest moments. Or… my happiest ones.”

“Which one is this?” Ashton asked, his lips curving in a sly smile.

“Both,” Leo said simply, dropping two ramen cups into the basket.

Minutes later, they sat at the small counter tucked into the corner,

steam rising from their instant noodles.

The store was quiet—just the buzz of the fridge and the patter of rain.

Ashton leaned over his bowl, blowing gently at the hot broth before slurping a noodle.

He nearly choked when Leo suddenly pinched the end of the

same noodle strand with his chopsticks.

Leo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Wanna share?”

Ashton blinked. “That’s—childish.”

“Then prove you’re an adult,” Leo challenged, lifting the noodle higher.

Ashton, flustered but refusing to back down, leaned forward and began to sip his side.

Leo mirrored him, their faces inching closer, the noodle shortening between them.

Halfway there, Ashton slowed, his heart thudding.

But Leo didn’t. He slurped until there was no noodle left—only Ashton’s lips.

Without hesitation, Leo pressed in, his mouth capturing Ashton’s.

Ashton froze, shocked, but the kiss deepened with Leo’s warmth and playful insistence.

The convenience store—its neon hum, its cheap plastic counter—faded

until there was only this: two men, one noodle, and one kiss that felt too real to laugh off.

Ashton’s chopsticks clattered to the floor.

From across the aisle, hidden between shelves of bread and bottled coffee,

Tristan watched.

His eyes burned—not just with jealousy, but something heavier.

He gripped the edge of the shelf until his knuckles whitened.

When Ashton and Leo finally pulled apart, breathless and laughing softly,

Tristan turned away.

He shuffled to the far end of the counter, sitting alone.

His hand slid into his pocket, fingers closing around the pill bottle.

He hesitated. Then, with a sharp inhale, he popped a Chrono pill onto his tongue.

The change was instant.

Wrinkles smoothed, hair darkened, and in seconds Tristan was twenty again.

A strikingly handsome young man in a body that wasn’t supposed to exist.

“Long night,” a voice muttered.

Tristan looked up to see the restaurant waiter slump into the seat beside him.

His hair was a mess, his vest wrinkled, his tie hanging loose.

He looked like he’d wrestled three drunk uncles and lost.

Tristan raised a brow. “What happened to you?”

The waiter groaned. “Don’t ask. But…”

His eyes flicked to Tristan and widened. His jaw dropped. “…wow.

Okay. Now that you’re here, I guess the night isn’t so long anymore.”

Before Tristan could react, the waiter leaned in and kissed him.

For a brief second, it worked—Tristan kissed back, lips soft, young, intoxicating.

But then, mid-kiss, the effect faltered.

His lips wrinkled, turning dry and papery beneath the waiter’s.

The waiter pulled back in horror, eyes bulging. “Wh-what the—?!”

He nearly screamed, but Tristan grabbed his face and yanked him back in.

This kiss was stronger, desperate.

The waiter’s muffled squeal vibrated between them as his hands flailed helplessly,

his brain almost close to short-circuiting.

But Tristan held on.

His kiss like a magnet sucking all steamed noodles that the convenience store can pop up.

Through the store window, the neon lights flickered, illuminating

the absurd sight: one man kissing like his life depended on it, the other trapped,

shock frozen in his wide-open eyes.

And in the middle of it all, the rain continues to fall.

With a dramatic flop, Tristan released his lips from the waiter who just

fainted forward—straight into the counter shelf with steaming ramen bowl.

The bowl tipped, broth splashing everywhere,

and the flimsy fold-out counter couldn’t take the weight.

With a loud crack, the whole thing collapsed, sending noodles, cups, and chopsticks flying across the floor.

At that exact moment, Ashton and Leo walked out under

the shared umbrella, their laughter fading into the rain.

Tristan, left behind amid the wreckage, touched his lips.

The pill’s effect was gone. His youthful face had vanished.

He was older again.

He turned his head toward the glass doors, watching Ashton and Leo disappear into the night,

jealousy etched deep into his lined features.

And then to the shocked waiter who by then had woken up.

The store bell chimed violently as someone burst from the back room.

A frantic clerk in a too-tight uniform skidded across the

noodles, kneeling beside the waiter who’s starting to get up.

“What happened? Did someone attacked you?” the clerk cried, waving a wad of napkins.

Tristan froze. He knew that voice.

He turned around.

“…Dr. Sebastian?” he said, his tone flat but sharp.

The clerk’s head snapped up, eyes wide behind the crooked cap.

“Tristan..”

Tristan narrowed his eyes. “I know the rumor was wrong, you didn’t go to Liberia. I’ve been calling and texting

you, but you’ve vanished into thin air. Man, I need new pills, I’m running short”

Sebastian paled, dropping the napkins. “Tristan, we…we need to talk.”

Tristan leaned back, crossing his arms, one eyebrow arched in dangerous amusement. “Oh, I bet we are.”

“What about me? What is it that you guys need to talk about? And what…pills?”

Dr. Sebastian stared back at the waiter, from his pocket he grab an injectable and quickly jab it on

the waiter’s neck, he fainted back to his world where he’s the king of the restaurant tables.