Pop 9

Toby, the eighty-year-old janitor who knew every creaky pipe and

gossip thread in the nursing home, opened the supply room door with a shaky hand and a grin.

“There you are,” he said. “Ten-oh-six. You’re slippin’, kid.”

Leo ducked under his arm and stepped inside,

brushing off his damp hoodie.

“Sorry, I missed the last bus. Had to sprint half the way.

Pretty sure people I bumped with along the way

thought that I stole some six packs from the corner store”

Toby chuckled but gave Leo a look—the kind older men

gave when they were pretending not to worry.

“You sure about this?”

Leo smiled, that warm, gentle kind of smile that made people

feel better without knowing why.

“Toby, you and Melinda helped me with rent when

I couldn’t even afford ramen. Let me do this.

It’s just a few floors and trash bags

and some lousy night hours, I don’t sleep well anyway.”

“She’s not been doin’ too well,” Toby admitted,

scratching at the back of his neck.

“Bed-bound now. I try to get home early, but... y’know how it is.

I have to feed her, clean her up and just make her feel- better”

“I understand Toby” Leo said. “That’s why I’m here. I’m here to help”

Toby fished a few crumpled bills from his pocket

and tried to hand them to Leo. “Just a little something. For the trouble.”

Leo stepped back like the money was contagious.

“Toby, it’s ok, I don’t mind really.”

“Are you really sure, these can help.” Toby stared at Leo.

“Positive. Let me do this for Melinda.”

Toby sighed, defeated but grateful. “You’re a good kid.”

“We’re next door condo neighbors” Leo reminded him. “Who else can

we count on, except- us? Go be with Melinda. I got this.”

With one last worried glance, Toby handed over the custodial keys.

“Just... don’t talk to anyone, alright?

Nobody can know you’re doin’ my job. I can get in serious trouble for this.”

Leo gave him a playful salute. “My lips are sealed.”

Toby pulled him in for a quick side-hug,

smelling of Old Spice and worry, then disappeared out into the night.

Alone, Leo turned to face the endless beige hallway and the overstuffed cleaning

cart like a soldier readying for battle. “Alright, let’s make it shine.”

He wheeled the cart out of the supply room,

mopping methodically, emptying trash bins,

adjusting signs like he belonged here. Like this is his world.

The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed above him as he moved

from hallway to hallway, his mind adrift in barcode paranoia

and the gnawing weight of secrets particularly Tristan.

Why am I thinking about him right now. This is really weird.

Leo silently said to himself.

When he reached the snack room, he paused.

And there, under flickering lights,

was a man in worn out pajamas and a cardigan robe,

aggressively kicking the vending machine.

Leo blinked.

The man kicked again and muttered, “You stupid overpriced tin can graveyard.”

Leo stifled a laugh.

It was cute.

He watched for a beat, then casually stepped forward,

pressed a specific combo of buttons, and gave the bottom panel one swift, practiced kick.

Clunk.

A soda can dropped into the tray.

Ashton stared, wide-eyed.

“How... did you do that? I’ve lost five bucks to this piece of crap.

I think it hates me personally.”

Leo shrugged. “You gotta know where to kick.

It’s all about angle, frustration, and a sprinkle of cuteness.”

Ashton snorted. “Sprinkle of cuteness? Are you the Vending Machine Whisperer?”

“Only on Tuesdays.” Leo smiled, his pearly whites visible under

the glimmering fluorescent ceiling lights of the snack room.

Ashton chuckled, tapped Leo’s shoulder in thanks,

and walked back toward the hallway in fluffy slippers.

But just as he passed the door frame of his room, he turned around for a second glance.

The guy—tall, lean, cheekbones like a K-drama villain—was mopping again,

earbuds in, completely oblivious to the ripple he’d just left behind.

“Sprinkle of cuteness? Did he just flirt at me.”

Ashton tilted his head, squinting like he was trying to place him.

He took a deep breath and said to himself, “Only way to find out”

Ashton walked back towards where Leo was mopping the floor.

“So... what happened to Toby?”

Leo froze mid-mop swipe.

“Huh?”

Ashton grinned, one brow raised.

“Toby. Old guy, like me. Smells like mints and engine oil.

He usually does the night shift.”

Leo blinked. “Oh. Uh... he—um—just stepped out.

Emergency. You know. Wives, they keep you on your toes.”

“Mmhmm.” Ashton’s smirk grew, amused and intrigued. “And you’re...?”

“Just... helping.”

“Helping,” Ashton echoed, crossing his arms.

“With mopping. At ten p.m. Wearing a hoodie. I hate to be a snoop

but something here is just not right”

Leo turned back to his cart, hiding the blush crawling up his ears. “Goodnight, sir.

I really need to get going, I still have couple of hallways to cover”

Ashton leaned against the doorway, eyes twinkling. “You missed a spot.”

Leo kept his back turned, biting a grin. “So did your vending machine aim.”

Ashton let out a soft laugh and slowly backed away.

But just before disappearing down the corridor,

he turned again—and watched as Leo’s mop swished silently across the floor.

There was something... off. Not in a bad way. Just something about this guy.

Meanwhile-

Tristan gently closed the door to Olive’s room—the one

she shared with Petals—careful not to make a sound.

And there, right outside, was Ashton.

Oh.

Weird. Awkward.

“Hey, Ashton,” Tristan said, trying to sound casual.

Ashton gave a small nod, clearly not focused on

him—or the fact that he just sneaked into the nursing home

at the most unholy hour of the night like it was totally normal.

His eyes were locked somewhere else.

Following Ashton’s gaze, Tristan turned—

And that’s when he saw him.

Leo.

Mopping the floor like a pro, in janitor gear that definitely wasn’t part

of his usual nursing student look.

Tristan blinked. “What the…?”

Leo paused and leaned on his mop for a moment.

That guy almost blew his cover.

He hate for Toby to get into trouble.

Maybe, he’ll worry about that tomorrow for now he has tons to mop.

“Smooth, Leo. Real smooth.”