(for hollabaek) A Table for Two part ii
xviii
part i
Spring ends and summer comes. The forsythia is at full bloom once more.
Kyungsoo came back again for his summer break, and this time Jongin didn’t even have to ask for his help around in the shop. He’s now volunteering himself to do much more than cook, and he arrives to the shop early and helps Donghae with cleaning the dining area.
When the shop is almost at closing time, Kyungsoo smiles at him and asks if there’s anything more he can do. Jongin gives him a vague notion of dismissal and excuses himself from the room. He runs to the nearest restroom, splashing his face with water multiple times to clear his head, to slow the rapid beating of his heart.
Jongin glances at himself in the mirror and immediately scowls in disgust. His reflection is absolutely glowing in happiness, and Jongin almost throws up.
He knows where all this would lead to and he shouldn’t want Kyungsoo like that.
“Jongin-ah.” His father swings the door open, a concerned furrow hanging on his aged brow. “Are you alright, son?”
“Yes, I’m just-I might have had too much of Kyungsoo hyung’s nikujaga. He always makes too many of it and it’d only be a shame to have it all go to waste, since it really tastes good.” Not to mention it slowly became Jongin’s favorite dish out of the whole menu-in the oddest moments, like sitting through a boring lecture in Economics, he sometimes craves for it.
“Speaking of which, where is the boy? I haven’t formally thanked him yet for going out of his way to help us every year. His university’s in Seoul, am I correct? It must take him a long ride every school break to come back here in Jeungpyeong.”
Jongin rips his gaze to the faucet. “He must’ve left. I already told him he could go home.”
“Will he still come next year?” His father asks innocently, and Jongin hears the series of underlying questions underneath.
He grips at the ledge of the sink and mumbles, “I have no intention to include Kyungsoo hyung in the family business, father. He’s just… a very good friend that always helps me when I’m in trouble.”
“Well, we’re not in an actual crisis to be honest, and we’ve already had enough people working in the shop but he’s still here,” His father says, throwing him a meaningful look. “I’m already considering starting paying him for the hours.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Jongin mutters.
His father shrugs, “I thought you’d want to carry on the business with someone.”
Jongin knows this isn’t the time to be embarrassed, but his face suddenly feels sickly hot. He flicks the tap open and lets the cool water run through his fingers.
“Well, that’s also good if you’re set on continuing alone. You’re my son, and I know you’re capable of doing this on your own,” his father finally says when Jongin doesn’t respond anymore. “But I honestly think Kyungsoo-ssi doesn’t know that, so it’s best you should tell him. We don’t want him to keep on coming if you’re not interested in having any ties with him.”
Jongin nods bleakly. “Yes, I understand.”
He closes the door behind him, leaving Jongin alone to fix his frazzled thoughts.
He sighs, and it echoes loudly in the small compartment.
Kyungsoo doesn’t deserve to be stuck here with him; Jongin can’t have him share the burden with him.
He won’t let him.
xx
The bleakest day comes in the first Wednesday of October. The sun isn’t shining again in uptown Seoul, and Kyungsoo is wading around the campus, waiting for his next lecture to come about.
There are rows upon rows of lilies-in-the-valley that are starting to wilt in the garden of the horticulture department, a building only half a feet apart from Kyungsoo’s department. He spots all this from the second floor, and he props his arms on the ledge, letting the soft breeze play with the tips of his hair.
He almost falls asleep when he hears somebody call his name. “Hyung! Kyungsoo hyung!”
Kyungsoo sees a familiar face amongst the sea of students flocking around to get to their respective classes. He blinks.
“J-Jongin?”
xix
Jongin met up with Baekhyun and Sehun on his way to the business department. Sehun had been another addition to the Baekhyun-Kyungsoo bunkmate duo when he took up dance. Jongin opted for another university in Incheon, the only university in the city that offered Food Technology as a major.
“You’ve grown even taller, Jongin-ah,” Baekhyun said in awe, slapping a hand on Jongin’s toned legs. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to even be seen with you.”
“Hey, I’m taller than that twerp,” Sehun countered, sipping through his third bubble tea of the day. He placed his feet on top of the stone table. “Look at me filling in my khakis well-doesn’t it look nice, hyung?”
Baekhyun ignored him. “You haven’t told us you were visiting. Is this one of those spur-of-the-moment gigs you had with Kyungsoo back in high school?”
“Umm.” Jongin fiddled with the strap of his bag. “Kyungsoo hyung doesn’t actually know I’m here, but I’m going to meet him.”
Baekhyun took in Jongin’s serious face and frowned. “What’s the matter? Did that dork do something wrong again?”
“No, it’s just… Kyungsoo hyung’s been helping me with my family’s shop for a long time now. I want to tell him that I don’t want to burden him any longer.”
Both Sehun and Baekhyun shared sidelong glances, and after a brief moment of silence Baekhyun placed a hand on Jongin’s wrist. “I guess Kyungsoo hasn’t told you yet. He’s not actually that good in telling others what he feels.”
“What, hyung? What does Kyungsoo want to tell me?”
“I have an idea, but it’s best if it comes from the guy first. It’ll probably take him a year or two, knowing him, but maybe you should hear Kyungsoo out first.”
“A year or two,” Jongin shook his head morosely. “By then it would already be too late.”
Baekhyun let out a breath, understanding. “I’ve known Kyungsoo longer than you and Sehun have, and I, well… I just want you to know that Kyungsoo had changed a lot after he met you, and that you’re really important to him more than he lets on.”
“He’s important to me too,” Jongin mumbles. “That’s why I don’t think this is right. I don’t want to chain him there.”
“I’m not sure how he’ll react, but if you think it’s for the best then I’m not going to stop you,” Baekhyun smiled at him reassuringly. “You’re a big boy-you know what to do.”
“I got your back, bro,” Sehun patted him at the back, a little bit harder than Jongin expected. “Just break it to Kyungsoo hyung gently. He’s never been cool with surprises.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah, I got it.” Jongin picked up his messenger bag slung at the crook of his chair and stood up. He’d tell it to Kyungsoo hyung straight. He won’t run away, the same way he’s going to face his future head on.
And maybe, if he’d have enough courage left to spare, he’d tell Kyungsoo how he really felt.
xxi
“Please don’t come back to the district this summer,” Jongin tells him, imploring, pleading. Kyungsoo blinks once, twice, to refocus his vision. But Jongin’s still there, a determined look on his face.
They’re under a sycamore tree again. The tension between them cuts through Kyungsoo by flesh and bone, and he thinks of it as a presage that something bad will happen in the only place in Seoul that reminds him of home.
“Why?” Kyungsoo questions. “Is something wrong next year? Is the shop closing?”
“… No,” Jongin says slowly, searching frantically for the words he’d selected specifically for this conversation, but it gets lost in the whirlpool of thoughts-he can’t believe it’s been months since he’s seen Kyungsoo again. He’s not wearing the black leather jacket he used to take everywhere when they were in high school; a white collar is peeking out of a form-fitting, navy blue sweater, but Jongin knows he doesn’t have time to admire how good Kyungsoo’s pale neck looks.
Baekhyun was right. Kyungsoo had changed.
But if Kyungsoo had then it means Jongin had too, because love is always a mutual thing-not only one person comes out of it changed.
Jongin recollects himself and draws out, “What I meant to say is, please don’t ever come back to the shop. You don’t have to do it anymore. We’ll find someone else for the job.”
Kyungsoo balls his fists. “What if I want to, Jongin? What if I want to do it?”
“Don’t you understand, hyung?” Jongin argues, tears threatening to spill from his eyes and cling to his lashes. “Do you know what it means if you’ll continue working for us?”
I don’t care! I- “I do, and it’s not a problem with me, Jongin.”
“It is to me,” Jongin says. “I’ll be stealing your future away from you, hyung, and you’re going to be stuck in Jeungpyeong forever.”
Kyungsoo knows it’s wrong to say it, but he says it anyway. “…Is it because I’m not good enough?”
“No, Kyungsoo-,” Jongin exclaims, steady hands grasping Kyungsoo by the shoulders. “It’s nothing like that. My family’s been running the only restaurant in our district for years and I- I’m the only son of the Kim family. Everyone’s starting to have expectations of you and I don’t want that. It won’t be fair to you.”
“You’re not in any position to judge whether it’s fair to me or not. I’ll still do it, Jongin. I want to do it.”
“Why, hyung? Why?”
“I-” he fumbles through his speech as Jongin takes a step closer, staring at him expectantly. “I…”
Jongin looks crushed when he doesn’t continue. He then envelops the elder one in his arms as easily as Kyungsoo found it hard to speak, perching his chin on his head. “Please don’t come back, hyung,” Jongin whispers to his ear, and Kyungsoo grips tight on Jongin’s sleeves. He doesn’t want to let go.
xxii
“Hey, stop moping. I need you to focus here.”
Kyungsoo looks up to Baekhyun's outstretched fingers.
“Bubblegum pink or hot rod red?”
Kyungsoo regards him for a while, and then answers, “I don't know, but you'd look ugly in both, anyway.”
“Okay, fine. Be like that, sourpuss. Jongin's not going to ask you to come back again with that long face of yours.”
Kyungsoo can't find the energy to summon up a glare, so he opts to stare at the bunk above him, retracing the steel foundations with his eyes.
He hears Baekhyun sigh, and next thing he knows he's being shoved by Baekhyun to the far side of the bed, asking for some space. Kyungsoo gives in and lets him sidle next to him.
“I feel like in the mood for some melodrama,” Baekhyun chuckles. “Come on, Soo. Tell your best pal what's been eating you this whole week.”
Kyungsoo opens his mouth, and closes it. Then, he opens it again. “…I think I messed up, Baek. I think I did something wrong.”
“You know what I think?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Well, it's not that you did something wrong. Actually, you're not really doing anything; that's the problem. You're just letting Jongin read through all your cryptic little actions and expect it to mean something. I can see it, and Sehun sees it, but Jongin's somewhat lacking in the bravery department just like you, and that explains why you're never going to go anywhere.”
“It's my fault, then?”
“Of course! Really, Kyungsoo-this is about what you’re going to do after you graduate in college. You want to work with the Kims, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been helping them out every summer and-what, wait for Jongin’s family to ask you to work for them, since you can’t bring yourself to tell Jongin about it?”
Baekhyun can be sharp when he wants to be. Kyungsoo rakes his hair with a frustrated hand. “Well, Jongin doesn’t want me there, so I guess it’s no longer an option.”
“I don't know, but think about it. Think about the words you can't say, and the words Jongin can't say himself either. If you ask me to bet on it, I'm a hundred percent sure that they’re exactly the same.”
“I-” Kyungsoo stutters again. “If I could explain it, I would've done so a long time ago.”
And Kyungsoo really wishes he could understand it, wishes he could find the reason why.
His parents’ death had robbed him of ambition, of love. Seungsoo had never really been around either, and drowned all his sorrow with school work and left eleven-year-old Kyungsoo to his own devices. From then on Kyungsoo’s constant companion had only been himself, and he’d been okay with it. But loneliness is a sharp-edged shield; it wounds as much as it protects.
And then Jongin came along, with his boyish laugh and his shy smiles and his nicotine patches. The leaves of the sycamore tree had been bright green that summer.
Kyungsoo remembers the one-legged halmeoni who always orders a miso-based Chuka ramen during Thursdays. She always mistakes Kyungsoo for her nephew.
He remembers that second summer when he always puts too much spice on the girl’s ramen broth from across the bakery, who always takes her sweet time in flirting with Jongin during the weekends.
He remembers Jongin’s words, the only ramen shop in Jeungpyeong, the only road Jongin must take.
He remembers almost telling Jongin a promise.
Kyungsoo’s twenty-one, and Jongin’s almost there. They’re not in high school anymore. They’re no longer just friends.
Kyungsoo would do it all-but, is he even allowed to? Will Jongin even let him?
“Well, it’s not the end,” Baekhyun amends. “It’ll probably take as long as it would for you to muster up all your balls to take that one-way train to Jeungpyeong this summer, and maybe even then it won’t be too late. Jongin cares about you, stupid, probably even more than we can ever imagine.”
xxiii
Seungsoo pats the dust off of his trousers as he strolls. Vienna is an old city.
He glances above, where the summit is still yards uphill. The skyline glitters, and the clouds sail across the cerulean expanse gracefully like thousands of ships pulling in ashore. Red and brown-roofed houses and white stucco eateries nestle on every side of the road.
He walks another mile and comes across a homely stand by the plaza. He plucks out a postcard and grins.
xxv
Jongin wakes up to the soft thrum of the zithers in the air.
It’s June 9th. Jangddeul Field Song Festival is transcribed in a black ink in his bedside calendar. Jongin slowly gets up from his bed and brushes his teeth. It’s nine o’clock in the morning, and he’s running a late.
It’s a big day. The shop is an ark of every kind of human being in the world-tourists and locals are cramped inside, and the newbie his mother had hired just a week ago is now bearing the brunt of the monster brought out by the singular hunger of the customers. Jongin has to stop himself from chuckling at the poor boy’s expense.
Then he sees a familiar set of round eyes and pale skin inside the kitchen.
He can’t breathe.
xxvii
Kyungsoo resorts to the only way he can resolve what happened between him and Jongin-which is ignoring it-and despite the younger boy’s wishes, he takes the first train to Chungcheongbuk-do that left at five in the morning.
The train had been speedy, and he arrives at seven o’ clock. By that time all the lanterns are put up and the procession is almost ready to begin. All the elders are wearing white, their faces powdered like Noh actors in a play.
He steps inside the shop. The crew are somewhat surprised that he’d come back though they’re professional enough to not let it show, and Donghae assigns him to kitchen duty again.
Kyungsoo burrows himself in his work. He thinks of nothing else.
When Jongin comes and sees him, his mouth falls open, his eyes locking him there. Kyungsoo hears the anxious beeping of the fryer, but he doesn’t look away.
xxvi
“Your dad’s going to kill you if he sees this,” Sehun remarked wryly as he aligned his sandals on the end of the doorway. He pointed to the trash can full of instant noodles and Japanese take-outs. “He’s going to banish you for being a traitor, the way I see it.”
Jongin moaned underneath his pillow. “I didn’t give you that spare key so you could welcome yourself in any time you want. Are you even human?”
“A human with no regards for etiquette.” Sehun went straight to Jongin’s tiny refrigerator and grimaced at the speckles of dust that greeted him afterwards. “Do you have anything edible around here? Like something I can make from a pan?”
“There’s cheese on the top shelf.”
Sehun pressed his arms to his chest. “Baekhyun hyung is right. You are dumb.”
“Baekhyun hyung sent you here?” Jongin questioned in surprise as he propped himself up from his bed with one arm.
“You and Kyungsoo hyung are two sides of the same coin,” he told him. “He’s been miserable since that amazing stunt of yours at the gazebo, and of course you’re not going to deal with it like a man, are you? Because you’re dumb.”
“That’s very helpful, Sehun, thanks,” Jongin replied sarcastically. He flopped right back to the mattress.
“Fine. Be like that. I hope your frown will sweep the world clean of its filthiness.”
“I want to be alone, please.”
“Jongin,” Sehun said very sternly, and Jongin dared to spare at least one glance at him. Sehun rarely called him by his first name. “Why did you tell Kyungsoo hyung to stop coming?” he asked pointedly, setting a tone that clearly stated he wanted a definite answer.
“I- I don’t want to burden him. Kyungsoo doesn’t need to be tied to me anymore. He deserves better.”
Sehun cocked a delicate eyebrow at him. “Really now? Is that what you truly feel?”
I want to be with him were the selfish words he didn’t utter, but Sehun heard it anyway. Through the silence the letters formed themselves into a neat, one-lined sentence, and it spliced through the cool air of the autumn season.
“See? That wasn’t so bad. Now you just have to tell Kyungsoo hyung.”
“I don’t think he’d want to see me again.”
“Grow a spine, Jongin. We’re not kids anymore.”
Jongin covered his face again with his pillow again.
“Kyungsoo hyung might not look like it, but he always sees through his promises. He’ll never back out on you.”
“I know,” Jongin sighed despondently. “I know.”
“He’s done a lot for you, Jongin.” Sehun squeezed his shoulder. “Maybe it’s your turn now.”
xxviii
“So, this is the famous Do Kyungsoo I’ve heard so much about?” A voice croons in delight, and Kyungsoo halts his cooking to come face-to-face with a kind-looking woman in her forties. Her eyes are crinkled into crescents, and her smile is familiar. The whites on her hair roots are showing.
He then sees Jongin running from behind her, and then it clicks.
“You’re much better-looking than Jongin let on,” she says, chuckling delicately. “I can see why he likes you so much.”
“Mother!” Jongin groans in exasperation.
Kyungsoo bows as low as he could. He’s been hanging around the store for years, but he never expected he’d get to run in to Jongin’s mother this summer since they’re almost always out of town. He remembers meeting Jongin’s father a few summers ago, but they didn’t get to talk much. “G-good morning, Mrs. Kim.”
A pair of worn hands pulls him upright. “You don’t have to be so formal with me, Kyungsoo. Think of me as your own mother, okay?”
“Umm, okay.”
“I wanted to thank you personally. I know it’s been rude of us never to have done so before for three years, especially since you’ve never even asked for anything in exchange all this time. Thank you for taking care of my son and for helping us with everything.”
Kyungsoo looks down and rubs his forearm in embarrassment. “I- I haven’t really done that much, ma’am.”
“You are invaluable,” she insists. She touches the side of Kyungsoo’s face, stroking his cheek lovingly. “Everything you do is, and I want you to know we appreciate it very much.”
“Mother, don’t you have to meet with Mrs. Han for the potato sale today? She’s outside waiting for you,” Jongin interrupts quickly.
“Oh! Yes, of course!” She cries, flipping her towel onto her shoulder and scrambles for the exit. “I shouldn’t keep her waiting. Thank you for reminding me, Jongin. And it was very nice to meet you, Kyungsoo! Please stay for dinner!”
Jongin sighs for a moment before giving Kyungsoo a sideward glance. He closes in the distance between them in three steps.
He brandishes a towel of his own and wipes the small streak of tomato sauce on Kyungsoo’s forehead. Kyungsoo looks at him then, and he wonders if the older can see the want in his eyes.
“We can’t talk here. Later. Outside,” Jongin mutters, and Kyungsoo bobs his head in silent agreement.
Jongin edges back, and they stare at each other for a long moment. Kyungsoo calculates that it’d only take half a second for him to bridge the gap, lower the younger’s face to his height, lean in…
Kyungsoo breaks the moment by turning away, turning his back on Jongin, and the latter ducks his head and finally, finally leaves.
xxix
They meet at the same spot at the top of the hill, the one they climbed during the Ginseng festival two summers ago. Kyungsoo picks on the dirt on the soles of his shoes with the tip of a dried twig, studying the small flickers of yellow lights from the town below, like fireflies capering in the night. And Jongin arrives an hour later after he’s done with his duties back at the store. He’s blinking the tiredness out of his eyes.
Unlike last time, Kyungsoo is the one who speaks first. “Are you angry?” he asks, sounding very unsure of himself.
Jongin shakes his head. “No, not really. Just surprised. I actually didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”
“Well, I’m here, so that’s that.”
“Yeah.”
There’s that terrible silence again. The brick wall that has amassed ever since that fateful day last fall is growing thicker by the minute, and Kyungsoo wants to tear it apart brick by brick by an apology-but something nips at him, telling him a ‘sorry’ will never be enough to summarize what has happened between them.
Kyungsoo’s palms are sweaty. “Jongin, I-”
“No! Umm,” Jongin bursts suddenly, and then his cheeks start to color a vivid red. “Wait, let me go first.”
“Oh. Okay. Go ahead.”
Jongin eases back and takes in a deep, deep breath. “Hyung,” he begins. “I’m sorry if I fought with you. I thought maybe… maybe I might have forced myself onto you so much that you felt obligated to come back. I’m really grateful for everything, hyung, but what’s more important to me is for you to be happy. I- I care about you a lot, Kyungsoo. I really, really do.”
Kyungsoo opens his mouth to respond, but Jongin isn’t finished yet. “I don’t want to place the burden of my family on you, hyung. You’ve already done so much for me, but I haven’t really done anything for you. The least I could do is to stop you from getting too involved with me like this-”
“That’s for me to decide,” Kyungsoo cuts in, shaking his head. “I’ve seen everything, Jongin. I want this.”
“You’re not going to be a pilot like Baekhyun hyung,” Jongin warns. He looks angry. “Or a dancer like Sehun. We’ll be bussing tables and sweeping the floor and managing the shop. You’re going to be stuck here in the countryside forever. Do you really want that?”
“Remember what I told you when you asked if I had any other reasons why I took in business?” And he’s finally going to say it now; his palms are slick with perspiration, and he wipes them off nimbly by his jeans.
Kyungsoo closes his eyes tightly so he won’t miss a beat.
“I lied. I had another reason why I took it. It didn’t make that much sense before, but now I- this isn’t just about me helping in your family’s business anymore. I’ll never leave, Jongin. You can’t make me.
“I like you,” Kyungsoo breathes finally, and the air that gushes in his lungs is so sweet that his eyes are starting to itch with tears.
But he keeps his eyes shut, afraid of the censure and shame that would definitely form on the other boy’s expression. He doesn’t want to see the look of surprise on Jongin’s face, or worse-the guilt.
Something warm wraps around Kyungsoo’s neck, and the latter realizes with a jolt that it’s Jongin’s calloused fingers flittering around his exposed skin. “May I kiss you, hyung?”
He feels like laughing. As if Kyungsoo’s always the one in charge, Jongin never forgets to ask.
Kyungsoo feels his breath bounce back to his mouth-it seems that Jongin is very close now. He keeps his eyes closed, his feet planted firmly on the ground. “Okay.”
As soon as Jongin presses his lower lip onto his, the dam of emotions Kyungsoo never knew he had suddenly bursts, and it washes him away so strongly that it feels like Jongin’s own torrent is merging with his. Kyungsoo presses a hand on the small of Jongin’s back, pulling him closer.
And it comes. The slow, excruciating burn of Jongin’s breath, Jongin’s mouth, Jongin’s everything pressed against him, hot and overpowering. Kyungsoo’s been waiting so long for this moment. He can hear Jongin’s heart pounding erratically against his own chest, the rise and fall of his labored breathing- He can feel Jongin’s hand on his waist- him tugging insistently on Jongin’s shirt, and… and…
xxx
Kyungsoo can feel Jongin’s muscle tense underneath his touch. He peppers kisses on his neck, his chest, his spine, just so he’d feel alright.
Jongin turns, and their noses bump softly in the dark. Kyungsoo whispers a few comforting words, and in that instant, the rigidness under his palm relaxes.
Jongin buries his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder and inhales quietly, kissing the bob on Kyungsoo’s Adam’s apple, his wrist, the center of his palm.
“I missed you,” Jongin confesses, wiping away Kyungsoo’s bangs before planting a kiss on his forehead. “I missed you terribly.”
“We’ll be together,” Kyungsoo promises. It had been a long and confusing journey, and it probably still will be-but at last they’ve finally arrived here. Maybe that one-way road Jongin thought he’d be journeying on alone will be a much, much brighter place.
xxiv
Dear Jongin,
My brother is a dispassionate, cold-blooded person who gets angry easily when things don’t turn out the way they’re supposed to. He likes spending his Sundays alone in his room doing god-knows-what, and he absolutely hates the cold. He’s neurotic and a smartass and a dumb five-year-old sometimes. He makes the best pasta in the world, but he never likes being praised about his cooking. He gets awkward when he’s being put in the spotlight. More importantly, he rarely tells anyone how he feels.
Please love him with all your heart.
Seungsoo hyung
Vienna, Spring
+++
It’s closing time again. Jongin and Kyungsoo are cooped together in the same corner of the store, with the same kind of Jasmine tea leaves swirling inside an old ceramic teapot.
“You’re not wearing those nicotine patches I gave you.”
Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I don’t need them anymore.” He smiles, and Jongin smiles back.
“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says a minute afterwards, and Jongin whips his head towards him.
“For what?”
Kyungsoo looks at yonder. “For letting me see this place.”
Jongin hums, letting a finger graze to Kyungsoo’s chin, then to his lips, before pulling him in for a soft kiss. Kyungsoo closes his eyes, and there’s nothing else to say.
The first rain of the season starts to fall from the summer sky, but their hands keep each other warm.