Work Text:
What the fuck was this doing here?
A dusty CD that Till recognizes all too well revealed itself behind stacks of other old CDs.
Now, Till loves music. Don't get him wrong. He wouldn't be working part-time in a music store if he found it so offensive. But he didn't expect his CD, which he worked on with stars in his eyes and hope of fame in his mind, to appear three years later at the back of a dusty aisle, clearly ignored and untouched.
Till loves his music, but not his old music. Till blushed when he saw the cover of his caked-up face smiling awkwardly with neon lights dancing behind him. His old busted up guitar was front and center, with a little editing to hide its pathetic quality.
Till reluctantly grabbed the CD and wiped away the dust, his fingertips gradually revealing different names and words obscured by the cloudy grime. He looked longingly at the caption "TILL THE END OF TIME!" that was plastered directly beneath his guitar.
He sighed.
This CD, although embarrassing looking at it now, was something special to him.
The Till from three years ago was ecstatic that a record label approached him to publish his music, saying how much he had potential and how he'd be a star in no time. And without much experience and desperate to reach out to more people, he hopped on board and gave his heart out.
Too bad that just on the same day the CD was released, renowned Idol star Ivan revealed his debut CD and flooded the stores. Every musician paled in comparison, and Till was no exception.
It's not like Till ever had a chance anyway. The marketing that the label did for Till peaked on a local news radio station, and it never got better than that. And when the label went bankrupt just a few months later, Till swears it wasn't his fault. His music at that time was all very personal and honestly too emo for a standard listener, so he shut down that chapter in his life and tried to start anew with a fresh mind and a new sound.
Does he have better success now? Well, perhaps his current part-time job as a cashier answers that question.
It's not like he gave up on music. Till is still very much active in the music world. He’d perform gigs in downtown areas and occasionally perform on the streets, but he has never touched a recording booth since the day he recorded his first ever CD.
"I look so fucking silly." Till berates. He worked part-time in Musick for around 10 months already, but he has never seen this before. It must have been really, really unloved if even the past employees of Musick never got rid of it. Or noticed it.
Till carries the CD with him to the cashier's counter and grabs a towel hanging on the chair to clean it thoroughly. It's a slow day today, and barely any customers came in, so Till decides to explore this long forgotten cringe-shaped piece of his puzzle. It's a cringey CD, and no one is ever going to look for it, but Till can't just put it back where he found it now that he has it.
"WHAT AM I DOING?!" Till screams in embarrassment when he places the CD on the in-demand rows, next to the CDs and albums of music gods and goddesses like Mizi (his all-time personal favorite), Sua, Ivan, and Luka.
Perhaps it was his delusional desire to be successful and stand beside the rest of the greats that compelled him to pose his CD beside theirs. He knows it shouldn't be there. He knows that it's a futile attempt to resurrect his 1-second-stardom.
But,
But just let him dream for a moment. Let him delude himself into thinking he was a star too.
Till collapses in his seat and stares intensely at his CD's new home. His awkward smile stared back at him.
Till gets red again. Any more, and Till will successfully transition to a tomato.
He screams internally, yet he cannot hide the small smile that forms on his face.
"No one's coming in anyway," he chuckled, resting his hand on his arm. "Ain't a crime to imagine, yeah? Superstar Till is still going strong…"
He laughs to himself.
"... singing a duet with Mizi—" he squealed.
The door opens.
Till chokes.
Perhaps choking as soon as a customer enters the store is a bad look, but as soon as Till saw the man who walked in, Till concluded: Now that's a bad look.
Overly huge sunglasses with a bright yellow rim, a pink face mask, a headscarf with cartoon dogs printed all over it, black cargo pants, and flip flops? Till went from choking from embarrassment to choking from laughter.
"Excuse me?" The customer frowned.
AH FUCK.
"Ah shit, I mean, uh, DANG, fuck—you're in a professional setting, Till, calm down—sorry, I was thinking of some funny show I was watching and, uh, l-laughed to it… sir."
Till bit his tongue to punish himself.
"... I see."
Till could telepathically feel the stranger roll his eyes at him. Till quickly grabbed the bunched up magazine at the corner of the counter, avoided eye contact, and cleared his throat.
"Well, um, if you need anything, just tell me. Have fun looking around." He gave him a small awkward smile while still avoiding eye contact in an attempt to save himself from this awfully cringe-filled day.
Just as Till was about to mind his own business and continue cringing at himself as usual, he went pale when he saw the customer pause at the in-demand section, face to face with Till’s one lonely CD surrounded by music industry veterans. The shame and embarrassment flooded him again, and he continued to curse himself for putting his CD up there.
If this weirdly dressed man was not asking questions about why a CD with Till’s face on it is grouped with the industry’s most beloved artists, then Till would never open his mouth to answer. Till hid his face behind the magazine just to spare himself from the embarrassment, closing his eyes and silently praying that the customer wouldn't realize that the guy on the cover and the guy at the cashier's counter were the same people.
Till always dreamed of being recognized, but not like this.
He’d combust.
“This is you, right?”
COMBUSTED.
Till slowly raises his head from the magazine to the counter, noticing the damn CD that plagued his morning. However, what shocked him more was the stack of cash beside it.
His head whipped up so fast, you could hear a crack. Even though this customer was wearing something ridiculous to shop, Till noticed the subtle handsomeness he exuded despite the accessories. The customer appeared to be well-built and fit, with smooth and silky black hair peeking beneath the headscarf and long, slender fingers. He honestly looked familiar, but the dog headscarf and funky sunglasses were clouding his train of thought. Till quickly looked away, embarrassed that he was technically checking the guy out.
“So, this is you, right?” the customer repeated, “… got the same smile.” he chuckled, gesturing towards the cover of the CD.
Till's skin may be permanently red at this point.
Till stuttered and fidgeted, not knowing if he should deny it or if he should be proud of it. On one hand, this is so embarrassing, and Till could die from this alone. On the other hand, it was so uplifting to get attention. Not only did this customer notice his CD, he brought it up here on the counter and even asked Till himself! This was the most attention he’s ever gotten in years! Also, was that man flirting?! Or was it another of Till’s delusions again?!
"From a long time ago…” Till answered, the blush on his cheeks getting redder and redder. His eyes traveled anywhere but the customer, too embarrassed to even brag about himself. As if a failed CD was anything to brag about.
“I see, ” the man said, leaning down to Till’s eye level.
“And how much for the CD?”
Till cracked his neck from the whiplash.
The man raised his eyebrows.
“Wait, you're actually going to fucking buy it? The money I saw earlier wasn’t a hallucination?!” Till stood up, absolutely gobsmacked by the amount of attention he’s getting. Then he smacked himself for saying another curse word out loud.
“Yeah.”
He said it so simply that Till could not process it.
“B-But it’s kind of worn out and old and, uh, not really in the best condition, and honestly, like personally, the music isn’t that very good,” Till nervously chuckled, “ a-and the cover is kinda cringey and—”
“Aren’t you supposed to try to sell me things, not discourage me from buying?” the man laughed.
“I—!” Till smacked himself again.
“You know, mister cashier guy, it’s getting ridiculous how much you’ve been hitting yourself. It’s starting to concern me.”
"What’s more ridiculous is that outfit you’re wearing.” Till fired back.
The man’s eye twitched.
Till smacked himself again.
“Fuck, I didn’t mean—”
"Listen here, cashier man,'' the man whisked his sunglasses away, took off his pink mask, and stabbed the counter with them. "I'll have you know that I don't dress this commonly. When my stylist handed me this ridiculous get-up, I was appalled. Appalled, I say! Don't get the wrong idea that this is my fashion sense; I would have never chosen to humiliate myself willingly. Seriously, is this really what ordinary people wear? They may not have money, but surely they have sense! And you, with the orange pants—"
The customer's rant fell deaf on Till's ears the moment he removed his sunglasses and face mask.
Till stares, eyes widened.
Now, Till loves rising star Mizi with all his heart. He never missed out on an online concert, has been religiously updated with all her songs and variety shows, and it was his dream to be on stage with her. So if it were Mizi who came in to Musick with a strange get-up this morning, he’d recognize her in a heartbeat, no matter how silly she would have looked. (Mizi would have never worn something like that anyway, and if she did, Till would have just found her cute.)
So in short, Till would have recognized Mizi if she were in disguise.
He wouldn’t really pay attention to other celebrities in disguise.
But this one fucker, where Till recognizes those familiar obsidian eyes no longer constrained by sunglasses, made him gasp. On the day Till released his pathetic CD, he saw those very same eyes on every billboard, store, poster, and show.
And that fucking snaggletooth only looked good on one man.
Till stood up.
"ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING IVAN???”
Till shrieked with a finger pointed at the disguised idol.
Ivan stopped his rambling.
They stood still for a moment before they both facepalmed.
“Oh my god, I really shouldn't have sworn at a famous person—”
“Damn stylist, I told you that this shit disguise wouldn’t work—”
Till reacted to Ivan's cursing. He does not know much about Ivan’s discography, nor was he his biggest fan, but he knows for certain that no one has ever heard Ivan curse at a public show or meet-up. Even his managers and closest celebrity friends reported that Ivan was a squeaky clean prince with a squeaky clean mouth.
Till shook his head, getting distracted from the fact that THE Ivan was standing in front of him, in a horribly put-together disguise. Till gasped again.
“WAIT, WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING HERE, IVAN?”
Ivan glared before sighing and relaxing his shoulders.
“Hooray, you found me. Now, please quiet down before you alert the whole town. You can do that for me, right?”
Till slapped his mouth. Both of them cringed at the loud smacking sound.
“Seriously, you need to stop hitting yourself,” Ivan cooed, his hand extending towards Till’s cheek. Till swatted it away, his face regaining the oh so familiar red he had worn the entire day.
“W-W-What’s I-uh,”
"Well, to answer your question,” Ivan rubbed his rejected hand, “I was just around the area, going around and looking at the sights. It’s a small town, but you can never be too careful of onlookers. So I told my stylist to fetch me something that would make super idol Ivan unrecognizable, but I was not expecting this. Curse me for hiring a new stylist, I guess. Again, I assure you this is a disguise and not casual everyday wear.”
He cleared his throat. Till raised an eyebrow before prodding him to continue.
“You can theorize whether I was here for a photoshoot or a music video; I’m not spoiling.” He winked. “Anyway, I saw this music store with a funny name, decided it wouldn’t hurt to be curious, and wanted to personally see my competition. I have a habit of checking out who’s in the lead and whatnot.”
Ivan gestured towards the in-demand CD section.
“But then this whole rollercoaster happened. Apologies for the rambling earlier. I get... defensive whenever I’m being challenged. I’m usually quite a passive person, but you could say I let my guard down when I’m not being surrounded by meddling paparazzi who take my words out of context.” Ivan snapped his fingers. “And I do hope you won’t mention my spiel to the press or any newspaper or gossip sites, yes?”
“I—uh, sure. I don’t really care about that.” I wasn’t really listening anyway, Till mentally noted.
“Good.”
“B-But what about the CD,” Till pointed at the almost-forgotten CD on top of the counter. “What’s compelling the Ivan to buy this crappy CD?”
“Oh.” Ivan played with the CD with his really nice and long and slender fingers—SHUT THE FUCK UP INNER THOUGHTS, Till internally screamed.
If you asked the Till from three years ago what he thought about Ivan, he’d have scowled and replied, “the bastard who took my chance of fame”. The frustration and anger towards Ivan dwindled down throughout the years, except for when Ivan would sometimes steal first place from Mizi’s and Sua’s comebacks, for which Till’s anger would reawaken every time.
But this time was different. Yes, Till has cursed an ungodly amount of times in Ivan’s presence, and they may have insulted each other just a little bit, but this famous person was actually interested in buying his CD! HIS OLD FAILED CD! Wouldn't anyone in Till’s position get giddy at the thought of a well-respected and beloved idol owning a piece of their music?
Till shuffled his feet, nervous to hear his answer.
“The cover looked funny.”
Till choked.
Ivan snickered.
“You fuck—”
“It’s funny in a cute way!” Ivan laughed. “Oh come on, you can’t blame me. Picture me ready to size up my competition, seeing which CDs and albums get sold out, and imagine my surprise to see this one single CD hanging out with the rest of my colleagues. Funnily enough, the guy on that cover has the same face as the guy on the cashier counter! You got the same smile!” He laughed louder, swinging Till’s CD vigorously.
Till scowled, but his cheeks flushed red yet again. He wasn’t expecting anything deep or meaningful, but he was secretly hoping that his CD had an ounce of something special that a music veteran could discern.
Guess it was just his stupid face then.
“Aw, you look disappointed.” Ivan chuckled.
“I’m not!"
”If I said I kind of remember you from years ago, would that make you feel better?”
“Huh—”
“Till, right?”
Till’s frown disappeared.
“Not only is that the name on the CD,” Ivan leaned closer, “but that’s the name of the cute boy who stuttered and sang his heart out on Outer Space Radio, yes?”
The marketing that the label did for Till peaked on a local radio station, and it never got better than that.
“. . .What.”
“I told you, I size up my competition.” Ivan smiled. “I may not look like it, but I get insecure at times. I keep a lookout on potential artists, and try to scout how much they'd affect my career. And of course, on the day of my debut CD, wouldn’t it be logical for me to research all of my potential competition on that day?”
Till gulped.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t bother remembering every single competitor I researched, but that boy who sang a preview of his song on Outer Space Radio had my attention.” Ivan played with the CD case, amused at how Till’s expressions rapidly change depending on his words. “I really liked his voice. It was full of emotion and was honestly quite funny to hear him sing as if he were in Inkigayo. Although you were practically a no-name from an obscure label, I thought you might have potential to climb up the ranks. Talents don’t betray, you know."
“S-so you noticed me? Way back then?”
“Mhm. But unfortunately, my interest fell short when, ah, the fruits of your labor went south.” Ivan shushed Till before he could retort. “It was a shame, but the industry is cruel. Just like that, you became another name on a discarded list, and I had to focus on other competitors. Then I saw the funny-looking CD. I recognized the name, it’s such a unique name after all. And even if I didn’t remember your name, your stuttering during our whole conversation was very reminiscent of your interview on that radio. That, and your very, very loud voice. "
Till cringed at himself for never getting rid of that habit. Ivan snorted at Till’s face.
“Perhaps this is a meager attempt at supporting small artists, but now that I remember you, I wouldn’t mind paying to hear you sing again.”
Ivan placed the CD down and directed Till’s attention to it.
“Hence I am buying this CD. I’m not going to lie, it looks drab, but I’m sure the content is fantastic.”
Till did not know what to say. He was beyond flattered. Sure, Ivan insulted him in the midst of praising him, but that was much praise packed into one moment by one person, and Till has never experienced this before. It was different when the label approached Till for the first time; it was different when passers-by would cheer and clap at his performance downtown; and it was immensely different when Mizi would go up on stage and praise her fans.
Till fidgeted, staring long and hard at his CD before cracking a small, awkward smile.
“That will be ₩300,000, sir.” Till grabbed the CD and put it through the scanner.
“...You’re fucking with me.”
Till ponders for a moment if a recording of Ivan cursing is worth anything to his fan club.
“That’s a golden voice you’re paying for, sir. You’re a very rich and successful idol. Since you’ve fought so hard for this trash, might as well try to rip you off, yeah?”
Ivan gaped at him.
“Is the scam working?” Till bagged the CD in a plastic bag.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, Till.”
On that day, superstar Ivan left Musick: Records and CD Store with ₩300,000-less, possibly the only remaining copy of the TILL THE END OF TIME music CD, and an amused smile on his face after being willingly scammed.
Till watches him leave, snorting at Ivan’s clothes once again, before processing the whole situation that just happened. He stared at the paper that Ivan left behind with his neat handwriting of Ivan’s phone number and a silly note:
Till fell to his knees and covered his mouth in disbelief.
Mizi’s smiling face on the poster beside the cashier's counter stares at him. Till lifts his head, stares back, and gives out a long sigh. This was the reddest he had ever been.
"I’m supposed to be loyal dammit!”
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Fanart drawn by my friend to give a better impression of how ridiculous Ivan looked while rizzing Till <3
