Cardboard House (1/3)
Title: Cardboard House
Pairing(s): Double B
Rating: R (overall; this chapter is PG13)
Word count: 4122
Genre: Comedy, Light Fluff, Slight Angst
Warnings: None
Summary: Hanbin has a house. Hanbin is broke. Hanbin needs a roommate. Jiwon needs a house. Jiwon has money. Jiwon has uncertain feelings for the boy with the house.
In which Junhwe's persuasions may be a blessing in disguise.
Hanbin flips through the glossy pages of the IKEA magazine, a melancholy sigh escaping from his dry lips. He brushes the rim of his lips with his tongue, relieving a bit of the agitation that’s been bothering him for the good part of the past week. Maybe he should invest in a tub of Vaseline, but hell, he doesn’t even have enough money to furnish his fresh apartment properly, let alone waste his funds on a completely useless commercial product. His lips will become normal in the summer, he figures.
Glancing at his ghost town of an apartment, another sorrowful sigh twirls its way out, and rightfully so, because as of this moment, the only standing piece of furniture in the living room is a garden chair Hanbin’s perched up on. And he knows that the only other piece of furniture is the worn mattress in the master bedroom.
After he’d agreed to rent the apartment, blowing all his money on a wildly excessive deposit, he’d thought of why he even needs a second bedroom: he doesn’t work as of yet, nor does he have a child. Then he’d wondered whether it was the adrenaline rush of excitement which accompanied graduation, or the hopeless persuasion of a mildly drunk Junhwe towards an unparalleled drunk Hanbin.
But Hanbin remembers it like it was yesterday. The beer bottles clacking and the pub buzzing around them just after graduation. He recalls himself opening a real estate magazine on his lap and flicking through the unnerving pages with price tags that made him sick to the stomach, but still priding himself in being a responsible adult, and ignoring the remarks about how everyone uses the internet to do these kinds of business nowadays. Yunhyung had just rolled his eyes and looked away. And Hanbin was fine with that. But then, out of nowhere, Junhwe came, and sat down. All in all, Hanbin had ended up drunk to the bone, uttering incomprehensible phrases, being a subject for laughter as he called up every number in the magazine.
What an embarrassment, Hanbin thinks dejectedly and fishes out his good-for-nothing phone - a memento of the past era in a country like South Korea, the helm of technology - too obsolete to do anything but take calls and answer calls. While the world is bumbling away at the peak of technological wonders, Hanbin keeps loyal to the Nokia he got at least six years ago. But it works, and that’s what matters, right? He doesn’t need an immaculately polished touch-screen (even though it feels like silk in his hands), or all the features that come with it, like built-in GPS (even though he manages to lose himself quite often).
The list of contacts is demoralising. A bunch of broke graduates, students and family he hasn’t talked to and doesn’t want to talk to. Even calling his parents would be a bother; they paid a hefty part of his tuition fees. He may be an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot.
So he makes a chore of calling each of his friends, one by one. Donghyuk claims that he’s spent all his money on buying himself a new car, Yunhyung never has any money in general and is as broke as Hanbin, Chanwoo is trying hard to pay the last year and a half worth of tuition fees, and Junhwe is a real bastard, so Hanbin saves himself from the schadenfreude kid’s evil laughter by not calling him. He considers calling some of the girls, but one of them is his ex, he lost contact with the other one, and he’s pretty damn certain that the third girl on the list saved her own number, not even asking for permission. He decides that it’s too much of a hassle trying to talk to the other form of human beings.
The last on the list is Jinhwan, the friend who graduated a couple of years ago. They meet up every now and again but Jinhwan is too busy with his new job at this fancy car company, the one he boasted about with a beaming smile the last time they met. So Hanbin makes sure not to bother him too often and lets him enjoy his job. But now, there is no hesitation, no finger hovering over the call button; he simply does.
“Hello? Hanbin? Is that you?” Jinhwan seems alarmed by the call, and Hanbin doesn’t know if that’s a good thing.
“Yeah, Hyung, it’s me,” Hanbin answers gingerly, using a soft tone he most certainly didn’t with Chanwoo.
“Look, I’m in the middle of something, and I appreciate your call and all, really, I do. But I’m in a bit of a rush, so just tell me what you want if it’s urgent.”
Hanbin considers hanging up the phone. It’s never a good thing to deal with a stressed out person, especially when it comes to money. But then again, he’s absolutely desperate. “Yeah, listen, Hyung. I just graduated and… And I rented an apartment… Which was completely wrong of me. But now I need money. I promise to pay you back when I get a job.”
There is a slight pause in between the dialogue, making Hanbin more anxious than he’s supposed to be. But then Jinhwan speaks. “To be honest with you, Hanbin,” he sighs the same way Hanbin does nowadays, “I’m in a bit of a debt. And I’m rushing to interviews since the company went bankrupt. I’m afraid that if I do lend you money, my balance will go to minuses.”
“Oh,” is all Hanbin is capable of saying. Only weeks ago Jinhwan had a radiant grin on his face, gasconading about his new adventures and the hot receptionist he totally did not have a crush on.
“If you have a spare room, consider getting a roommate. I’m sorry I couldn’t help much.” Jinhwan doesn’t even stay around much longer to hear Hanbin’s half-hearted good luck.
Jinhwan’s words replay long enough in his head to make Hanbin forget about the time passing.
And in some sense, it’s a good thing, since Hanbin doesn’t do much short of unpacking boxes.
It’s just past 6pm when Hanbin finally comes to his senses. The streetlights are turning on outside, revealing the heavy snow falling onto the street in the dark. Winters are the worst in his apartment, he dictates, even though he’s been living here for less than a week. But it’s cold, and he doesn’t know how to turn on the radiator; it’s this new revolutionary system of internal heating Hanbin’s never come across.
At least he has a nice and fluffy duvet from the time he was a high schooler, and takes it out along with the laptop his parents bought him before he left the house. Honestly, he didn’t do much on it apart from writing prolonged essays last minute, and playing a game of solitaire every once in a while. For the first time in a long time, Hanbin’s actually grateful that Junhwe nagged him to get wifi, because now he doesn’t have to put on a thousand layers to run down the street to the nearest internet café.
So Hanbin begins his much needed search for a roommate.
And it seems like there are broke people with an unnecessary spare room in their houses in this world. At least he’s not alone. That gives him a strange sense of comfort and belonging.
The website requires a bit of brainwork, since it’s all in English, but Hanbin is educated enough to know what Location and Number of Rooms indicate. So he selects Seoul as his location and 1 for the number of rooms. Help! I Need a Roommate gives him yet another form to fill -at which he groans; he’s not much of a form-filler - and he gives his email address, telephone number, and credit card details. Then, he clicks ‘next’. To his dismay, he’s met with another form. It may just be his luck, or the lack of proper sleep.
The form tells him to Enter an Appropriate Description, and with a bit of Google translate, he figures out what he has to do and types at an incredibly slow pace:
My apartment in -
He presses backspace until he’s met with an unpleasant noise which makes his flinch and retreat.
The wonderfully located apartment on the fringe of Itaewon offers an incredible access to the subway station and Seoul’s nightlife.
Much better, he smiles at his genius.
The newly built complex is complete with an elevator, top-notch security system, and accessibility to all sorts of public transport, plus a lush garage to serve for all your garage needs.
Maybe his attempt at humour and charm is a bit too much.
The apartment itself surrounds quiet neighbours…
Totally untrue, but they won’t be here in the mornings when people will presumably come to visit.
… furnished with respectable furniture…
Yeah, right.
… And polished hardwood flooring, plus a completed bedroom…
He’ll figure something out.
… The apartment is vibrant with bright light seeping through the curtains on fresh mornings.
At least that bit is more on the truthful side. Though, he had to put up his bed sheets to cease the light a little because he nearly went blind the first night.
The apartment is open for viewing anytime during the day, weekdays and weekends.
---
Hanbin wakes up rolled on newspapers he’s been going through for job adverts for the past three weeks. There’s been persistent banging on his door for the last five minutes. Groaning, Hanbin kicks off the blanket draped over him and buries his face in the pillow. The knocking doesn’t subside and just continues. With the corner of his eye, Hanbin makes out a blurry 7:34 on his clock, and wonders who the fuck would actually knock on somebody’s door at this time in the morning. On a Sunday. A fucking Sunday.
When the knocking doesn’t stop, Hanbin just decides that this is ridiculous and hops off the mattress, dodges a couple of cardboard boxes, scratches his butt, and opens the door.
On the other side, a guy - not much older than him by the looks of it - is standing with thick rimmed glasses perched up on his nose. Everything about him is without fail the opposite of Hanbin. Starting from the limited edition Beats headphones resting on his shoulders, to the seemingly brand new pair of Jordans. “Hi, are you,” the guy looks down at his iPhone 6S, “Kim Hanbin?” And he tilts his head in order to look at Hanbin whose eyes are bloodshot and face is swollen from being woken up.
“Yeah, I’m him,” Hanbin answers with a thick voice from just waking up, and clears his throat.
“I’m here to view the house,” at first, Hanbin is so confused that he’s about to shut the door on the guy, but then he remembers filling out a form and looking for a roommate three weeks ago. Truth be told, he was about to give up on the whole roommate business, with the website erroneously tricking him into believing that it’s only a matter of time before he finds the perfect roommate.
Hanbin steps aside, “Ah, yes, sorry. Long night. Um… Come on in.”
The guy hooks two thumbs to the straps of his backpack and stands in the hallway proudly, as if looking at his own creation. Hanbin decides that if he’s to put up with the guy as a roommate, he needs to invest in soundproof walls in order to not be woken up in the morning. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Hanbin asks from behind.
“Kim Jiwon,” Jiwon stands there for a while and thinks a bit, a smile creeping in while he’s doing so, “Hey, we have the same surname! We sound like a married couple!”
Hanbin chuckles lightly and awkwardly, trying to fix his hair in vain. “I… I guess,”
They stay still for a while, just staring at each other (more like Hanbin staring at Jiwon). Hanbin can’t think of anything but how Jiwon’s effervescent presence is doing nothing but irritating him. He’s having those days when anything joyful annoys him.
“I’ll take it,” Jiwon beams out of nowhere, completely taking Hanbin by surprise, and he’s even more confused. What price did he pay to be stuck with this guy?
“What?”
“I said I’ll be your roommate,” Jiwon explains as if Hanbin is an idiot.
“I know nothing about you. How do I know you’re not like a serial killer?” Hanbin almost yells. It’s an underestimation to say that he’s short-tempered.
“Honestly, by the looks of your apartment, I can say that I’m your best taker,” at least that bit is true. Hanbin can’t deny it.
“I’ll… I’ll call you,”
---
When Hanbin gets his first interview at a big shot architecture and interior design office, he thinks it’s a joke. It’s the first interview he’s gotten in the past 5 weeks of job searching, a rite of passage into adulthood, and in one of the biggest design offices in all of South Korea, too; a rival to many interior designers and architects, YG stands at the helm of the future of homes and buildings. Hanbin knows that. He knows that very well. He’s even passed the building a couple of times, and it looks fucking awesome. It’s a vacancy even his professors would be jealous of (he makes a mental note to send them post cards with that information). An internship at the forefront of architecture.
And Hanbin’s anything but happy about it.
Only two days to go to the interview and Hanbin still doesn’t have a properly fitted suit and has to take refuge inside Donghyuk’s closet. The good thing is, they’re the same size, and the bad thing is, Donghyuk doesn’t have any suits. And neither does Chanwoo… nor Junhwe, nor Yunhyung, and he won’t even try calling Jinhwan this time. This whole thing seems too much like a prank. He has a huge interview which means a massive job opportunity at YG of all places, and none of his friends have a fucking suit.
He leaves Donghyuk’s house, futile and with rage. It’s only a small walk from Donghyuk’s place to his apartment if you take the left turn and then walk straight, and Hanbin takes up stomping in order to do so. He pulls his scarf up all the way to his nose, which has reddened, and buries his hands underneath his armpits to keep them warm. It’s snowing, and his boots are doing everything but keeping water from seeping in. Ugh, now his socks are soaked thoroughly and his toes feel like they have frostbite.
He’s gone almost half of the way when he stops at the convenience store because of his damn phone ringing at the worst time possible. Before taking the call, he steps into the store, bows his head to the girl chewing gum at the cashier and pretends to be looking at the alcohol section. The number is unknown but he takes the call anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” a woman replies with an eminently polite voice, “I’m calling regarding your interview with YG Architecture and Interior Design office.”
Oh God, it is a prank then. His heart is beating so fast, it’s almost squeezing through his ribcage. “Ah, yes.” Hanbin says, pretending to be calm and looks over a pack of imported beer, balancing the phone in between his ear and shoulder.
“I’m sorry to inform you that,” Hanbin gulps and takes a breath, “Mr Choi won’t be able to make it on Tuesday, and the only open slot in his schedule for five months is tomorrow. If not, I can put you down with Mr Kwon on… the 2nd of March?”
Fucking tomorrow! And he doesn’t even have any good clothes, he hasn’t done any research on the firm (though, that has been pending ever since he found out about the interview), and he just isn’t ready for tomorrow.
“Mr Kim? Are you with me?”
“Ah, yes. Tomorrow would be perfect.” Hanbin blurts out instantly, regretting it the second he opens his mouth.
“Great! I’ll tell Mr Choi.”
The next minute is spent getting the details of the interview: 9 o’clock on the dot. No later. He can do that. And he’ll wear the cream coloured shirt his mum gave him for his birthday. And throw on the old slacks from his high school uniform which still fit him. And also prepare for rejection, because he’ll get it, no matter what.
After a little while, Hanbin decides that imported beer is not worth his money and just buys a few packs of ramen, ready-made Kimbap and a couple of bottles of Korean beer (which tastes only half as good as imported beer, but at least his wallet is happy). The girl at the counter doesn’t even do the cumbersome task of telling him the price and just tilts the screen to tell him how much he has to give.
When he reaches his front door, he’s about to shakily insert the key that he realises two generously huge moving trucks outside the building complex. Some men are squeezing a queen sized bed through the elevator, and Hanbin watches them with curious eyes, and swaps his weight from one foot to another, paddling on the January snow which never seems to melt. But then he remembers: Jiwon is supposed to be moving in today.
With that thought, Hanbin takes a leap towards the elevator that the men managed to fit the mattress in. A couple of muted sorry’s later, and he’s well on his way to the fifth floor.
The elevator ride ends with a polite ding and the men usher Hanbin out like a wave, only to push their way into the open door of his apartment. Commotion can be heard from the inside, and it’s making him sweat, creating this unpleasant hot-cold effect on his skin. So before he even has a chance to step in, Hanbin sheds off his first layer of coat, followed closely by the second.
As far as his eyes see, Jiwon is standing in the middle of the living room, thick-rimmed glasses swallowing his messy black hair, and giving orders to anything that walks. Hanbin does a quick arm movement and shoots his coats towards the bed, making a start on disposing his scarf.
“No! I said there! There!” Jiwon makes a hand gesture, cheeks flushed from frustration, staring intently at the boy holding a coffee table. He seems so at ease in the house, like the last time, he has his chest out, and arms crossed as if he owns the place. And technically, he does… but only one room. Not the whole fucking apartment.
Hanbin can hardly recognise the place. It’s not much of a ghost town anymore, to say the least. A grey L-shaped sofa is in the centre of the living room, adjacent to the bar stools neatly located around the open kitchen. Jiwon’s even bought a TV, hung curtains, placed an expensive looking Persian rug under the polished coffee table.
“Hanbin!” Jiwon notices him looking around, confused as fuck, and waves a hand, greeting him, apparently.
“Jiwon…” Hanbin pulls off his scarf and twirls it around in his hands to keep them from touching the ground. He makes a tentative trip to the kitchen and drops off the plastic bag he got from the convenience store. On the counter sits a polished black coffee maker, the latest version, of course. And next to it, a microwave Hanbin’s been keeping his eyes on for weeks but his wallet kept vetoing the decision.
Before Hanbin has a chance to answer, Jiwon approaches him from behind, latching a hand on Hanbin’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. Hanbin can only imagine the smile he has going on behind him, making his eyes into two little crescents. One thing Hanbin’s noticed is that Jiwon smiles with his whole face.
“Hanbin, I just thought that we shouldn’t live in a cardboard house,” Jiwon is so close that his breath is ghosting over Hanbin’s skin, making him shiver from the stupid hot-cold effect. He blames the sudden flushing of his cheeks on the damn weather. “Oh, by the way, I didn’t touch your room, in case you were wondering. I don’t know what you like, so I just thought I should leave you to do your own private things. Ya know… Privacy and all.”
There is a moment of silence between them in which Hanbin takes his time - thankfully - to think through his reaction. The first thing which comes to his mind is to shout at Jiwon, kick him out of the house along with his furniture and his stupidly amazing microwave. But then, Hanbin really thinks it through. By the looks of it, this guy has money, and Hanbin is unemployed. He can probably pay the next three months’ rent with ease, handing out money like it’s water. Isn’t that what Hanbin was looking for in the first place? Someone to help pay the next month’s rent without both of them starving to death?
So Hanbin doesn’t shout. He just turns on the ball of his foot to face Jiwon, who is dangerously close. “Thanks. I guess the place really needed some finishing touches.” He clears his throat and places a hand on Jiwon’s, sliding it off his shoulder and pretends to be reaching the fridge.
In between all that, the moving people slip out of the apartment so subtly that Hanbin doesn't even notice their multiple bowing and the signing of several papers besides the door smashing closed (and thank god for that, because Hanbin couldn't stand another second of the wind prodding away at his skin). He blames it on the weather messing with his head again and averts his gaze to Jiwon who's squatting in front of the open fridge door.
"Fancy some chicken and beer?" Jiwon throws a questioning look at Hanbin very casually, making Hanbin's eyebrows shoot right to the moon. Isn't it a bit too early for dropping formalities?
"Um... Sure. Where's the chicken though?" Hanbin knows the fridge like the back of his hand. It's not difficult, really. On the left hand side of the second shelf is a half-eaten jar of kimchi, next to a nearly empty milk bottle, and a piece of dry bread in one of the draws. Not much to remember.
"I'll order," Jiwon shuts the fridge door with his right leg, hopping a bit to stop himself from falling and ends up in an awkward position where one of his knees are bent and the other leg is stretched while half his back is lying flat against the stone cold kitchen island. But at least his phone is an arm's reach away and he snatches it.
Hanbin observes closely as Jiwon types away on his unnecessarily large touch screen. There are only a few things Hanbin really knows about Jiwon. 1) he's too happy for anybody's liking, to be completely honest, 2) he has a bit of an accent which Hanbin thinks makes his smile even cheesier, 3) he looks manly, even to guys. Yes, Hanbin finds Jiwon to be manly, besides the apparent lack of intellect, or what seems like an abnormal addiction to modern day technology.
Between the phone call and the wait for food, Jiwon and Hanbin move themselves to the new couch - which feels like heaven's clouds - and swing their legs on the table like good old buddies. Hanbin is too tired to care and Jiwon... Well, he doesn't know about Jiwon. To be completely honest, he doesn't know anything about his newly found flatmate who's rich and stupidly happy all the time. Money brings some happiness, he supposes.
"Jiwon, what do you do for a living?" Hanbin pops the question -not that question - out of nowhere, expecting Jiwon to be a little startled at least, but the guy is calm and collected.
He takes a sip from his beer. "Oh, I work at my uncle's accountancy company. You know... Numbers... Maths. All that stuff." Jiwon curls his lips in a bit and runs his tongue along the rims, so much that Hanbin is completely spacing out, not realising that Jiwon was even talking.
"Huh?"
Still looking at those lips.
"What's your job?" Jiwon repeats and Hanbin just thinks of the lines, so perfectly forming the lips.
"My job?"
"Yeah,"
"What about my job?" Hanbin half whispers, eyes becoming half-lidded as he travels to fantasy land. But it only takes a split second for the return flight to reality to land. “Oh, fuck, my job!”
Pairing(s): Double B
Rating: R (overall; this chapter is PG13)
Word count: 4122
Genre: Comedy, Light Fluff, Slight Angst
Warnings: None
Summary: Hanbin has a house. Hanbin is broke. Hanbin needs a roommate. Jiwon needs a house. Jiwon has money. Jiwon has uncertain feelings for the boy with the house.
In which Junhwe's persuasions may be a blessing in disguise.
Hanbin flips through the glossy pages of the IKEA magazine, a melancholy sigh escaping from his dry lips. He brushes the rim of his lips with his tongue, relieving a bit of the agitation that’s been bothering him for the good part of the past week. Maybe he should invest in a tub of Vaseline, but hell, he doesn’t even have enough money to furnish his fresh apartment properly, let alone waste his funds on a completely useless commercial product. His lips will become normal in the summer, he figures.
Glancing at his ghost town of an apartment, another sorrowful sigh twirls its way out, and rightfully so, because as of this moment, the only standing piece of furniture in the living room is a garden chair Hanbin’s perched up on. And he knows that the only other piece of furniture is the worn mattress in the master bedroom.
After he’d agreed to rent the apartment, blowing all his money on a wildly excessive deposit, he’d thought of why he even needs a second bedroom: he doesn’t work as of yet, nor does he have a child. Then he’d wondered whether it was the adrenaline rush of excitement which accompanied graduation, or the hopeless persuasion of a mildly drunk Junhwe towards an unparalleled drunk Hanbin.
But Hanbin remembers it like it was yesterday. The beer bottles clacking and the pub buzzing around them just after graduation. He recalls himself opening a real estate magazine on his lap and flicking through the unnerving pages with price tags that made him sick to the stomach, but still priding himself in being a responsible adult, and ignoring the remarks about how everyone uses the internet to do these kinds of business nowadays. Yunhyung had just rolled his eyes and looked away. And Hanbin was fine with that. But then, out of nowhere, Junhwe came, and sat down. All in all, Hanbin had ended up drunk to the bone, uttering incomprehensible phrases, being a subject for laughter as he called up every number in the magazine.
What an embarrassment, Hanbin thinks dejectedly and fishes out his good-for-nothing phone - a memento of the past era in a country like South Korea, the helm of technology - too obsolete to do anything but take calls and answer calls. While the world is bumbling away at the peak of technological wonders, Hanbin keeps loyal to the Nokia he got at least six years ago. But it works, and that’s what matters, right? He doesn’t need an immaculately polished touch-screen (even though it feels like silk in his hands), or all the features that come with it, like built-in GPS (even though he manages to lose himself quite often).
The list of contacts is demoralising. A bunch of broke graduates, students and family he hasn’t talked to and doesn’t want to talk to. Even calling his parents would be a bother; they paid a hefty part of his tuition fees. He may be an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot.
So he makes a chore of calling each of his friends, one by one. Donghyuk claims that he’s spent all his money on buying himself a new car, Yunhyung never has any money in general and is as broke as Hanbin, Chanwoo is trying hard to pay the last year and a half worth of tuition fees, and Junhwe is a real bastard, so Hanbin saves himself from the schadenfreude kid’s evil laughter by not calling him. He considers calling some of the girls, but one of them is his ex, he lost contact with the other one, and he’s pretty damn certain that the third girl on the list saved her own number, not even asking for permission. He decides that it’s too much of a hassle trying to talk to the other form of human beings.
The last on the list is Jinhwan, the friend who graduated a couple of years ago. They meet up every now and again but Jinhwan is too busy with his new job at this fancy car company, the one he boasted about with a beaming smile the last time they met. So Hanbin makes sure not to bother him too often and lets him enjoy his job. But now, there is no hesitation, no finger hovering over the call button; he simply does.
“Hello? Hanbin? Is that you?” Jinhwan seems alarmed by the call, and Hanbin doesn’t know if that’s a good thing.
“Yeah, Hyung, it’s me,” Hanbin answers gingerly, using a soft tone he most certainly didn’t with Chanwoo.
“Look, I’m in the middle of something, and I appreciate your call and all, really, I do. But I’m in a bit of a rush, so just tell me what you want if it’s urgent.”
Hanbin considers hanging up the phone. It’s never a good thing to deal with a stressed out person, especially when it comes to money. But then again, he’s absolutely desperate. “Yeah, listen, Hyung. I just graduated and… And I rented an apartment… Which was completely wrong of me. But now I need money. I promise to pay you back when I get a job.”
There is a slight pause in between the dialogue, making Hanbin more anxious than he’s supposed to be. But then Jinhwan speaks. “To be honest with you, Hanbin,” he sighs the same way Hanbin does nowadays, “I’m in a bit of a debt. And I’m rushing to interviews since the company went bankrupt. I’m afraid that if I do lend you money, my balance will go to minuses.”
“Oh,” is all Hanbin is capable of saying. Only weeks ago Jinhwan had a radiant grin on his face, gasconading about his new adventures and the hot receptionist he totally did not have a crush on.
“If you have a spare room, consider getting a roommate. I’m sorry I couldn’t help much.” Jinhwan doesn’t even stay around much longer to hear Hanbin’s half-hearted good luck.
Jinhwan’s words replay long enough in his head to make Hanbin forget about the time passing.
And in some sense, it’s a good thing, since Hanbin doesn’t do much short of unpacking boxes.
It’s just past 6pm when Hanbin finally comes to his senses. The streetlights are turning on outside, revealing the heavy snow falling onto the street in the dark. Winters are the worst in his apartment, he dictates, even though he’s been living here for less than a week. But it’s cold, and he doesn’t know how to turn on the radiator; it’s this new revolutionary system of internal heating Hanbin’s never come across.
At least he has a nice and fluffy duvet from the time he was a high schooler, and takes it out along with the laptop his parents bought him before he left the house. Honestly, he didn’t do much on it apart from writing prolonged essays last minute, and playing a game of solitaire every once in a while. For the first time in a long time, Hanbin’s actually grateful that Junhwe nagged him to get wifi, because now he doesn’t have to put on a thousand layers to run down the street to the nearest internet café.
So Hanbin begins his much needed search for a roommate.
And it seems like there are broke people with an unnecessary spare room in their houses in this world. At least he’s not alone. That gives him a strange sense of comfort and belonging.
The website requires a bit of brainwork, since it’s all in English, but Hanbin is educated enough to know what Location and Number of Rooms indicate. So he selects Seoul as his location and 1 for the number of rooms. Help! I Need a Roommate gives him yet another form to fill -at which he groans; he’s not much of a form-filler - and he gives his email address, telephone number, and credit card details. Then, he clicks ‘next’. To his dismay, he’s met with another form. It may just be his luck, or the lack of proper sleep.
The form tells him to Enter an Appropriate Description, and with a bit of Google translate, he figures out what he has to do and types at an incredibly slow pace:
My apartment in -
He presses backspace until he’s met with an unpleasant noise which makes his flinch and retreat.
The wonderfully located apartment on the fringe of Itaewon offers an incredible access to the subway station and Seoul’s nightlife.
Much better, he smiles at his genius.
The newly built complex is complete with an elevator, top-notch security system, and accessibility to all sorts of public transport, plus a lush garage to serve for all your garage needs.
Maybe his attempt at humour and charm is a bit too much.
The apartment itself surrounds quiet neighbours…
Totally untrue, but they won’t be here in the mornings when people will presumably come to visit.
… furnished with respectable furniture…
Yeah, right.
… And polished hardwood flooring, plus a completed bedroom…
He’ll figure something out.
… The apartment is vibrant with bright light seeping through the curtains on fresh mornings.
At least that bit is more on the truthful side. Though, he had to put up his bed sheets to cease the light a little because he nearly went blind the first night.
The apartment is open for viewing anytime during the day, weekdays and weekends.
---
Hanbin wakes up rolled on newspapers he’s been going through for job adverts for the past three weeks. There’s been persistent banging on his door for the last five minutes. Groaning, Hanbin kicks off the blanket draped over him and buries his face in the pillow. The knocking doesn’t subside and just continues. With the corner of his eye, Hanbin makes out a blurry 7:34 on his clock, and wonders who the fuck would actually knock on somebody’s door at this time in the morning. On a Sunday. A fucking Sunday.
When the knocking doesn’t stop, Hanbin just decides that this is ridiculous and hops off the mattress, dodges a couple of cardboard boxes, scratches his butt, and opens the door.
On the other side, a guy - not much older than him by the looks of it - is standing with thick rimmed glasses perched up on his nose. Everything about him is without fail the opposite of Hanbin. Starting from the limited edition Beats headphones resting on his shoulders, to the seemingly brand new pair of Jordans. “Hi, are you,” the guy looks down at his iPhone 6S, “Kim Hanbin?” And he tilts his head in order to look at Hanbin whose eyes are bloodshot and face is swollen from being woken up.
“Yeah, I’m him,” Hanbin answers with a thick voice from just waking up, and clears his throat.
“I’m here to view the house,” at first, Hanbin is so confused that he’s about to shut the door on the guy, but then he remembers filling out a form and looking for a roommate three weeks ago. Truth be told, he was about to give up on the whole roommate business, with the website erroneously tricking him into believing that it’s only a matter of time before he finds the perfect roommate.
Hanbin steps aside, “Ah, yes, sorry. Long night. Um… Come on in.”
The guy hooks two thumbs to the straps of his backpack and stands in the hallway proudly, as if looking at his own creation. Hanbin decides that if he’s to put up with the guy as a roommate, he needs to invest in soundproof walls in order to not be woken up in the morning. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Hanbin asks from behind.
“Kim Jiwon,” Jiwon stands there for a while and thinks a bit, a smile creeping in while he’s doing so, “Hey, we have the same surname! We sound like a married couple!”
Hanbin chuckles lightly and awkwardly, trying to fix his hair in vain. “I… I guess,”
They stay still for a while, just staring at each other (more like Hanbin staring at Jiwon). Hanbin can’t think of anything but how Jiwon’s effervescent presence is doing nothing but irritating him. He’s having those days when anything joyful annoys him.
“I’ll take it,” Jiwon beams out of nowhere, completely taking Hanbin by surprise, and he’s even more confused. What price did he pay to be stuck with this guy?
“What?”
“I said I’ll be your roommate,” Jiwon explains as if Hanbin is an idiot.
“I know nothing about you. How do I know you’re not like a serial killer?” Hanbin almost yells. It’s an underestimation to say that he’s short-tempered.
“Honestly, by the looks of your apartment, I can say that I’m your best taker,” at least that bit is true. Hanbin can’t deny it.
“I’ll… I’ll call you,”
---
When Hanbin gets his first interview at a big shot architecture and interior design office, he thinks it’s a joke. It’s the first interview he’s gotten in the past 5 weeks of job searching, a rite of passage into adulthood, and in one of the biggest design offices in all of South Korea, too; a rival to many interior designers and architects, YG stands at the helm of the future of homes and buildings. Hanbin knows that. He knows that very well. He’s even passed the building a couple of times, and it looks fucking awesome. It’s a vacancy even his professors would be jealous of (he makes a mental note to send them post cards with that information). An internship at the forefront of architecture.
And Hanbin’s anything but happy about it.
Only two days to go to the interview and Hanbin still doesn’t have a properly fitted suit and has to take refuge inside Donghyuk’s closet. The good thing is, they’re the same size, and the bad thing is, Donghyuk doesn’t have any suits. And neither does Chanwoo… nor Junhwe, nor Yunhyung, and he won’t even try calling Jinhwan this time. This whole thing seems too much like a prank. He has a huge interview which means a massive job opportunity at YG of all places, and none of his friends have a fucking suit.
He leaves Donghyuk’s house, futile and with rage. It’s only a small walk from Donghyuk’s place to his apartment if you take the left turn and then walk straight, and Hanbin takes up stomping in order to do so. He pulls his scarf up all the way to his nose, which has reddened, and buries his hands underneath his armpits to keep them warm. It’s snowing, and his boots are doing everything but keeping water from seeping in. Ugh, now his socks are soaked thoroughly and his toes feel like they have frostbite.
He’s gone almost half of the way when he stops at the convenience store because of his damn phone ringing at the worst time possible. Before taking the call, he steps into the store, bows his head to the girl chewing gum at the cashier and pretends to be looking at the alcohol section. The number is unknown but he takes the call anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” a woman replies with an eminently polite voice, “I’m calling regarding your interview with YG Architecture and Interior Design office.”
Oh God, it is a prank then. His heart is beating so fast, it’s almost squeezing through his ribcage. “Ah, yes.” Hanbin says, pretending to be calm and looks over a pack of imported beer, balancing the phone in between his ear and shoulder.
“I’m sorry to inform you that,” Hanbin gulps and takes a breath, “Mr Choi won’t be able to make it on Tuesday, and the only open slot in his schedule for five months is tomorrow. If not, I can put you down with Mr Kwon on… the 2nd of March?”
Fucking tomorrow! And he doesn’t even have any good clothes, he hasn’t done any research on the firm (though, that has been pending ever since he found out about the interview), and he just isn’t ready for tomorrow.
“Mr Kim? Are you with me?”
“Ah, yes. Tomorrow would be perfect.” Hanbin blurts out instantly, regretting it the second he opens his mouth.
“Great! I’ll tell Mr Choi.”
The next minute is spent getting the details of the interview: 9 o’clock on the dot. No later. He can do that. And he’ll wear the cream coloured shirt his mum gave him for his birthday. And throw on the old slacks from his high school uniform which still fit him. And also prepare for rejection, because he’ll get it, no matter what.
After a little while, Hanbin decides that imported beer is not worth his money and just buys a few packs of ramen, ready-made Kimbap and a couple of bottles of Korean beer (which tastes only half as good as imported beer, but at least his wallet is happy). The girl at the counter doesn’t even do the cumbersome task of telling him the price and just tilts the screen to tell him how much he has to give.
When he reaches his front door, he’s about to shakily insert the key that he realises two generously huge moving trucks outside the building complex. Some men are squeezing a queen sized bed through the elevator, and Hanbin watches them with curious eyes, and swaps his weight from one foot to another, paddling on the January snow which never seems to melt. But then he remembers: Jiwon is supposed to be moving in today.
With that thought, Hanbin takes a leap towards the elevator that the men managed to fit the mattress in. A couple of muted sorry’s later, and he’s well on his way to the fifth floor.
The elevator ride ends with a polite ding and the men usher Hanbin out like a wave, only to push their way into the open door of his apartment. Commotion can be heard from the inside, and it’s making him sweat, creating this unpleasant hot-cold effect on his skin. So before he even has a chance to step in, Hanbin sheds off his first layer of coat, followed closely by the second.
As far as his eyes see, Jiwon is standing in the middle of the living room, thick-rimmed glasses swallowing his messy black hair, and giving orders to anything that walks. Hanbin does a quick arm movement and shoots his coats towards the bed, making a start on disposing his scarf.
“No! I said there! There!” Jiwon makes a hand gesture, cheeks flushed from frustration, staring intently at the boy holding a coffee table. He seems so at ease in the house, like the last time, he has his chest out, and arms crossed as if he owns the place. And technically, he does… but only one room. Not the whole fucking apartment.
Hanbin can hardly recognise the place. It’s not much of a ghost town anymore, to say the least. A grey L-shaped sofa is in the centre of the living room, adjacent to the bar stools neatly located around the open kitchen. Jiwon’s even bought a TV, hung curtains, placed an expensive looking Persian rug under the polished coffee table.
“Hanbin!” Jiwon notices him looking around, confused as fuck, and waves a hand, greeting him, apparently.
“Jiwon…” Hanbin pulls off his scarf and twirls it around in his hands to keep them from touching the ground. He makes a tentative trip to the kitchen and drops off the plastic bag he got from the convenience store. On the counter sits a polished black coffee maker, the latest version, of course. And next to it, a microwave Hanbin’s been keeping his eyes on for weeks but his wallet kept vetoing the decision.
Before Hanbin has a chance to answer, Jiwon approaches him from behind, latching a hand on Hanbin’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. Hanbin can only imagine the smile he has going on behind him, making his eyes into two little crescents. One thing Hanbin’s noticed is that Jiwon smiles with his whole face.
“Hanbin, I just thought that we shouldn’t live in a cardboard house,” Jiwon is so close that his breath is ghosting over Hanbin’s skin, making him shiver from the stupid hot-cold effect. He blames the sudden flushing of his cheeks on the damn weather. “Oh, by the way, I didn’t touch your room, in case you were wondering. I don’t know what you like, so I just thought I should leave you to do your own private things. Ya know… Privacy and all.”
There is a moment of silence between them in which Hanbin takes his time - thankfully - to think through his reaction. The first thing which comes to his mind is to shout at Jiwon, kick him out of the house along with his furniture and his stupidly amazing microwave. But then, Hanbin really thinks it through. By the looks of it, this guy has money, and Hanbin is unemployed. He can probably pay the next three months’ rent with ease, handing out money like it’s water. Isn’t that what Hanbin was looking for in the first place? Someone to help pay the next month’s rent without both of them starving to death?
So Hanbin doesn’t shout. He just turns on the ball of his foot to face Jiwon, who is dangerously close. “Thanks. I guess the place really needed some finishing touches.” He clears his throat and places a hand on Jiwon’s, sliding it off his shoulder and pretends to be reaching the fridge.
In between all that, the moving people slip out of the apartment so subtly that Hanbin doesn't even notice their multiple bowing and the signing of several papers besides the door smashing closed (and thank god for that, because Hanbin couldn't stand another second of the wind prodding away at his skin). He blames it on the weather messing with his head again and averts his gaze to Jiwon who's squatting in front of the open fridge door.
"Fancy some chicken and beer?" Jiwon throws a questioning look at Hanbin very casually, making Hanbin's eyebrows shoot right to the moon. Isn't it a bit too early for dropping formalities?
"Um... Sure. Where's the chicken though?" Hanbin knows the fridge like the back of his hand. It's not difficult, really. On the left hand side of the second shelf is a half-eaten jar of kimchi, next to a nearly empty milk bottle, and a piece of dry bread in one of the draws. Not much to remember.
"I'll order," Jiwon shuts the fridge door with his right leg, hopping a bit to stop himself from falling and ends up in an awkward position where one of his knees are bent and the other leg is stretched while half his back is lying flat against the stone cold kitchen island. But at least his phone is an arm's reach away and he snatches it.
Hanbin observes closely as Jiwon types away on his unnecessarily large touch screen. There are only a few things Hanbin really knows about Jiwon. 1) he's too happy for anybody's liking, to be completely honest, 2) he has a bit of an accent which Hanbin thinks makes his smile even cheesier, 3) he looks manly, even to guys. Yes, Hanbin finds Jiwon to be manly, besides the apparent lack of intellect, or what seems like an abnormal addiction to modern day technology.
Between the phone call and the wait for food, Jiwon and Hanbin move themselves to the new couch - which feels like heaven's clouds - and swing their legs on the table like good old buddies. Hanbin is too tired to care and Jiwon... Well, he doesn't know about Jiwon. To be completely honest, he doesn't know anything about his newly found flatmate who's rich and stupidly happy all the time. Money brings some happiness, he supposes.
"Jiwon, what do you do for a living?" Hanbin pops the question -not that question - out of nowhere, expecting Jiwon to be a little startled at least, but the guy is calm and collected.
He takes a sip from his beer. "Oh, I work at my uncle's accountancy company. You know... Numbers... Maths. All that stuff." Jiwon curls his lips in a bit and runs his tongue along the rims, so much that Hanbin is completely spacing out, not realising that Jiwon was even talking.
"Huh?"
Still looking at those lips.
"What's your job?" Jiwon repeats and Hanbin just thinks of the lines, so perfectly forming the lips.
"My job?"
"Yeah,"
"What about my job?" Hanbin half whispers, eyes becoming half-lidded as he travels to fantasy land. But it only takes a split second for the return flight to reality to land. “Oh, fuck, my job!”