Newspapers Shouldn't Be A Means of Flirtation

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Newspapers Shouldn't Be A Means of Flirtation
jongkey; pg-15


Kim Kibum is a snarky, brown-haired young gentleman with good morals and fine writing abilities. Not only that, Kibum also happens to be a good friend (if you mean 'good friend' as in bother your apathetic, athletic best friend with your petty problems, why yes, Kibum is a very good friend). And because Kibum thinks he is an excellent friend, he applies as an advice-giver at a newspaper.
"Just for fun," he explained to his dumb-founded friends in a cafe one day, sipping a mocha frappucino.

"You could get into some trouble if you did that, you know, hyung," Taemin, Kibum's hoobae when he was in college, said.

Kibum simply shrugged and replied with, "I need the trouble, please. Besides, my identity will be hidden."

Minho (Kibum's apathetic and athletic best friend) kept quiet. Meddling in Kibum's affairs was a hobby he had long forgotten about. The last time he did so, it didn't end quite nicely (just think, a blonde woman's hair flying everywhere while Kibum is holding a pair of scissors).

Kibum meets Jinki during his first day. He's clumsy, socially awkward and has no sense of comedic timing. All he does is smile, no matter what and Kibum finds it annoying.

("Seriously? One day, your face is gonna be stuck like that. Smiling, forever."
"It's okay. I mean, smiling makes you good-lookin'.")

Soon after, Kibum finds out that Jinki is his boss. He's not so surprised since Jinki would always go around the whole floor every five minutes (and trip on something every two minutes), left hand rubbing his chin and eyes darting to every cubicle.

"How's our Key?" Jinki placed his hand on Kibum's shoulder, watching the younger boy play Restaurant City on Facebook and listen to Mary J. Blige songs on YouTube. His forehead crinkles in confusion. "Hard at work?"

"Key is bored while Kibum is waiting,"  Kibum had his body slumped over his desk and all over his keyboard while he clicked the little digital dirty dishes after his little digital customers left his little digital restaurant.

"Aren't people submitting their problems to you?" Jinki pulled up an extra chair and sat next to Kibum.

Opening the e-mail that was assigned for his column, Kibum sighed. "None of them are juicy enough to be in a newspaper, Jinki."

"What you put in a newspaper shouldn't be measured by how 'juicy' it is but how it's relatable, how it's a problem that can and will be solved-- simply saying, it's the truth," Jinki explained patriotically, hand on his chest and gaze far.

"Fine," Kibum huffed and started to go through his e-mail. He clicked the first one on the list entitled, 'serendipity.'

Dear Key,
 I've come to the conclusion that I'm in love. I'm in love and it hurts. Why? Because he's always so quiet and can't break through his shell as much as he has to mine. I want to find out about what he feels for me, but what do I do?

Love,
     First-Timer
Kibum huffed, stretching his fingers to type a reply.

Dear First-Timer,

Confess. That's it. This way you'll know more about him. I don't personally know this person of which you speak but he will give a response that will say his worth. If he breaks your heart and if he doesn't care, then you're missing out on someone who DOES.

Fighting!
             Key

"Wasn't so hard, was it, Kibum?" Jinki asked him, pushing up his big, black-rimmed glasses and flashing his eye smile.

Kibum rolled his eyes. "No."

"Good. I'll leave you be, then." Jinki patted Kibum's back as he continued to inspect the floor like a lioness guarding her cubs.

Tired, with eyelids growing heavy and fingers shaking, Kibum looked at his computer's clock. 10:30 PM and he's still not done. He vaguely remembers Jinki reminding him that he can only leave once he's finished answering all the letters oh, because those poor, troubled readers are shaking in their seats for your reply. Then he wonders how many broken-hearted, broke people there are in Seoul and mumbles about how he never expected the job to be so fucking difficult and annoying.

If Jinki weren't so nice and if he wasn't Kibum's boss, he would've slapped him across the face. Damn optimism, he thought. What does he eat? Sunshine?

Hesitantly, Kibum clicked the last e-mail sent to him.

Dear Key,

Just saw off the girl I slept with last night. My girlfriend got pretty mad when she found out. I guess I should've changed the sheets.
 Anyways, enough about me. How are you?

Love,
        Dirty Sheets

Kibum gripped his mouse in disbelief. This person must be stupid, he thought. No fucking way was he going to give a lying, cheating stranger a reply. They didn't deserve it. He bit his lower lip in frustration and began to bash his fingers on the keyboard to make a reply.

Dear "Dirty Sheets,"

Are you stupid?! Have you got a brain in there? First of all, why'd you cheat? Second, this is an advice column. What advice are you asking for?

Get a brain,
           Key
 "The nerve!" He shouted in the empty office. He printed all his replies and the problems, neatly stapled them and put them neatly on Jinki's desk as the janitor watched in sheer confusion.

A week afterwards, what seemed to be Kibum's troubled audience had incresed sales for the newspaper. Jinki gave Kibum a congratulatory pat on the back when they were in the cupboard having lunch together.

"You're doing great so far!" Jinki smiled. "Actually, you're doing excellent!"

Kibum snorted in a haughty way. "I told you I'd help this newspaper by a longshot."

"Yeah, but," The older boy took a paper cup from the neat stack resting near the water dispenser. "Don't publish your replies to Mr. Dirty Sheets. If you want to continue talking some sense into that guy, keep on the low."

"Will do, commander," Kibum saluted as he picked up the curly ramyun noodles swimming in his plastic cup with his Hello Kitty chopsticks.

Kibum arrived at work one Monday morning, dressed in his Jeremy Scott and drinking his decaf latte, and opened his office e-mail. He looked at the latest one, entitled 'I Haven't Bought A Brain Yet But I Hope You Read This.' He rolls his eyes and opens it anyway.

Dearest Key,

Thank you for your advice, I will head to the closest brain shop immediately.
Anyways, I found another girl. Met her at the bar. Nice girl, a bit snarky but good. How do I impress her, o Almighty Key?

Love,
Mr. Not-So-Suave

Again,  Kibum is annoyed but types a reply despite.

To Mr. Not-So-Suave,

I'm guessing you're Mr. Dirty Sheets from last week? You wouldn't make a good undercover spy.

Be yourself. How old are you? You should know this. Go watch some Glee.

Love,
Key

Day ater day, Kibum and 'Dirty Sheets' write to each other with bittersweeet intentions and open hate. Kibum doesn't exactly know why but proceeds to scold Dirty Sheets in his replies. Jinki simply stands by and watches how Kibum has a low tolerance for arrogance and kindly declines his offers on going to bars. (But Kibum does go to bars anyway, even though no one would accompany him.)

Beloved Key,

Thankfully, I am not an undercover spy. If I were one, I probably wouldn't be sending you letters.

Be myself. Thank you for ten year old advice. Sadly, I'm twenty-three, not in the fifth grade. Not everyone knows how to date, mon cheri. Watching Glee, I wonder how that helps.

The date's this Saturday. It's going to be Tuesday when you reply, right?

Love,
Older-Than-You-Think

Dear "Older-Than-You-Think",

You certainly seem like you're in the fifth grade. Moving on, make it seem like you aren't a lying, cheating and tactless asshole then everything will be fine.

Love,
Key

My Beloved Key,

Awww, at least you didn't say kinder.

So you're saying I have to pretend I'm someone else. My, oh my, Key, you contradicted yourself.

Tell me more about yourself besides the fact you're a snarky, single advice columnist.

Love,
Mr. Wants-To-Know-You-More

Mr. Wants-To-Know-You-More,

Aw. If only I could give you a kiss just to show you that I'm enamored by your arrogant, cocky persona.

I'm not contradicting myself because even if I've never known you, I know that you aren't really like that.

Maybe you're just horny.

Have fun on your date.

Love,
Key

Hey Key,

A kiss? I'd appreciate that. Give me your number so I could call you sometime.

The Almighty Key has faith in little, lowly me. How nice. Maybe I am horny. Try finding me and maybe we could chat.

Awww, does the diva not have plans?

Love,
In-Your-Face

Jinki wonders why Kibum's been so pissed the past week, mumbling, who pissed in your fried chicken batter? But it comes to him that whatever Dirty Sheets or any other nickname this 'lying, cheating, arrogant bastard' keeps leaving on his messages must've caused it.

"Are you sure you're not in love with Dirty Sheets?" He asks his employee who stared at the computer screen with red eyes.

"Jinki, please be rational. I don't fall for jerks," Kibum replies, furiously typing a reply. "Why? Does it seem like I am?"

Hell, yeah.You don't stop talking about him. Jinki just decides to keep his thoughts to himself.

In-Your-Face,

GO TO HELL.

I'd never date you.

Love,
Key

A reply comes in the next morning at 10.

Hey, Love,

Then come with me to hell so I won't get lonely, won't you?

And yes, you would.

I love you,
K.J.

Kill-Joy,

You're delusional. How do you know I'm not a psycho?

It's Saturday, have fun on your date.

Love
Sincerely,
Key

Hey there,

Did you have fun last night?

Love,
You-Know-Who

I'm not even going to mention your name,

Yes I did. Thank you. :)

Love,
Key

P.S. DON'T EVER MAKE ME FREAK LIKE THAT. EVER.

Jinki is amazed at the power of the pen, it is indeed mightier than a sword but not as strong as Cupid's Arrow. Two weeks into the heated messages between Kibum and Dirty Sheets, he convinces Kibum that he's in love with his pen pal, well, unconsciously he is. Apparently, his name is Jonghyun. A friend of Minho's, who knew of Kibum's identity all along (only because, ironically, the ever-so silent Minho couldn't stop complaining and had accidentally blurted it out over Soju and poker).

Jonghyun is not Kibum's ideal type personality-wise but the fact that Kibum is always going on and on about him like a pubescent teenage girl shows that ideal types aren't always accurate.

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COLLAB BETWEEN thebrideinasuit AND ME.

LET'S GIVE HER A ROUND OF APPLAUSE~!