2. My Job
Seungmin's phone wouldn't stop buzzing. The notifications rattled across his desk until he finally dragged himself out of bed, grabbed the damn thing, and squinted at the screen.
[Dumbass Squad]
(138 unread messages).
"Jesus Christ," he muttered.
The chat was a wall of chaos.
Jisung: YO YO YO arcade 29??
Hyunjin: arcade?? u broke??
Changbin: bro u still owe me 10 bucks
Felix: can we please just eat first i haven't touched food in 6 hours
Jeongin: cap. you had chips 20 mins ago
Chan: y'all don't stop huh? it's 8 in the morning
Minho: you're old as fuck chan. go knit or something
Jisung: 💀💀💀
Seungmin scrolled, already tired.
Seungmin: you clowns text like meth heads. some of us are trying to sleep.
Hyunjin: wow sleeping beauty finally woke up
Jisung: ur prob jerking off
Seungmin: nah that's YOUR hobby
Jeongin: caught in 4k jisung
Jisung: STFU RAT
Seungmin smirked. He loved these idiots, but they never let him breathe.
Then Jisung sent the one text that made him pause.
Jisung: nah fr tho seungmin what do u even do? like ur job? bc u never tell us.
The chat went still for half a second. Then:
Hyunjin: oooh tea ☕️
Felix: wait yeah u never said
Changbin: nah this man always dodges
Jeongin: sus af
Chan: let the kid live, not everyone wants to talk about work
Minho: he prob sugar baby. look at that face.
Seungmin rolled his eyes, jaw tight.
He did have a job. A good one, too. Barista shifts at a café, sometimes tutoring kids. Respectable, boring shit. The kind of job you could tell your mom about.
But that wasn't what paid the bills anymore. Not what made life interesting. Not what made him feel like he had control for once.
And there was no way in hell he was telling these loudmouths about late nights, webcam lights, strangers dropping stacks just to hear him drag them.
So he typed:
Seungmin: i make money. that's all u need to know.
Hyunjin: LAMEEEE
Jisung: nah that's drug dealer vibes
Jeongin: def sugar baby
Felix: maybe he's a secret ceo 👀
Changbin: wtf kind of ceo lives in that busted apartment 💀
Minho: yeah bro ur curtains look like they survived a war
The chat howled. Seungmin tossed his phone across the bed, smirking despite himself. Same shit, different day.
That night they met up at the ramen place by the station. Cheap, greasy, crowded — perfect for eight dumbasses yelling over each other.
Seungmin slid into the booth last, hood up, earbuds around his neck.
"Look who finally decided to crawl outta bed," Changbin said, shoving him with his shoulder.
"You look like shit," Hyunjin added, sipping his soda like some diva.
"Better than your hair," Seungmin shot back.
"WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY HAIR?"
The table erupted. Jisung nearly fell off his seat laughing, Felix snorted into his broth, Chan covered his face like a tired dad.
"Kids, please," Chan muttered.
"Shut up, grandpa," Minho said.
The chaos rolled on — noodles slurped, chopsticks clattered, insults flew. Jeongin, the youngest, was vicious, roasting everyone twice his size without blinking. Felix kept trying to play peacemaker, but he was laughing too hard half the time.
Seungmin leaned back, soaking it in. This was the only time life felt... normal. Just dumbass friends, just noise, no camera, no tips, no usernames.
Then, of course, Jisung brought it back.
"So, Seungmin," he said around a mouthful of noodles, "you still not gonna tell us what the fuck you actually do? 'Cause I swear you never answer straight."
"Yeah," Hyunjin chimed in, pointing his chopsticks. "Don't think we didn't notice you dodging this morning."
"Facts," Jeongin said. "Bro's mysterious as hell. Probably sells kidneys on the dark web."
Felix gasped dramatically. "Oh my god, Seungmin's an organ dealer???"
"Shut the fuck up," Seungmin muttered, stabbing at his noodles.
Minho smirked, leaning an elbow on the table. "Nah, he's definitely somebody's sugar baby. Look at that smug face. 'Rich auntie' wiring him money every week."
The table roared. Jisung slapped the table, Hyunjin howled, Felix almost choked.
Chan sighed. "Guys, don't push him. If he doesn't wanna say, leave it."
But they didn't leave it.
They kept clowning, tossing wild theories: Seungmin was a hitman, a stripper, a TikTok influencer.
Through it all, Seungmin just smirked and rolled his eyes. Mask on, sarcasm sharp.
"Believe what you want," he said finally. "Just know I make more money than all you broke bitches combined."
That shut them up for a solid three seconds before Jeongin whispered, "Def sugar baby," and everyone cracked up again.
They spilled out of the ramen shop into the night air, full and loud. The city buzzed around them — neon signs, drunk students, couples making out against walls.
The group split, some heading for the arcade, others wandering toward the subway. Seungmin hung back, hands in pockets, hoodie up.
Minho walked near him for a bit, quiet for once. He glanced over with that sharp little smile Seungmin half remembered from years back, before life got messy.
"You never change," Minho said low, almost like it was just for him.
Seungmin raised a brow. "And you never shut the fuck up."
Minho snorted, shoved his shoulder, and walked ahead with the others.
For a moment, Seungmin's chest felt tight. Old memories flickered — bikes on cracked pavement, summer nights, laughter that sounded way too much like tonight.
He shoved it down. No point digging that up.
Back in his room, the silence hit. He dropped onto the chair, cracked his knuckles, and opened his laptop.
The site loaded, bright and familiar. Notifications stacked up.
New tips. New messages.
And at the top:
@BiteMeBaby tipped $300: miss me, pretty boy?
Seungmin stared at the screen, lips twitching into a crooked smile.
"You're fucking insane," he muttered.
Still, his hand hovered over the camera toggle.
Normal friends outside. Neon secrets inside.
And somehow, the lines kept blurring.
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