vixx: Part-Time Mine
Title: Part-Time Mine
Pairing: Ravi/Hongbin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8,865
Summary: Hongbin wants to date the boy at the retro mobile wash -- his red skymobile suffers for it.
a/n: this was a fic i wrote for the forvixx exchange! thanks to jeodoboleo for the super intense hand-holding as i wrestled with this one. this turned out better than i expected so here it is //Cross-Posted//♡
“Do you ever notice that kid that comes through?”
Taekwoon looks up from the desk he’s sitting at and to his friend perched at the wide window. He’s using his keen eyesight to lurk on the outside scene, but Taekwoon only stares at him, a bit perplexed. Taekwoon’s been having a good day, filing taxes at a good rate even with Hakyeon’s commentary, but this comment catches him off-guard, prickling at his curiosity.
So he asks, “What kid?”
Hakyeon reels in his catch. “You know, the kid with the red Syndrome U3; he looks tiny behind that steering -- goodness.”
“Syndrome U3….”
“The red one,” Hakyeon adds helpfully.
Taekwoon takes a moment longer to think about it. “Oh.” And now he remembers. “He’s barely a kid.”
“Younger than me -- same thing. He comes through just about every other day, and I’m just wondering how he could get his mobile so dirty.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t feign disinterest.” Hakyeon is now pressed against the glass, looking at something fascinating just beyond his reach. “He looks like a nice boy, but he has ulterior motives.”
Taekwoon puts down his pen and swivels his chair so he fully faces his friend and the window. Hakyeon’s ruffling the front of his shirt from his odd posture, and he looks ridiculous like this, but Taekwoon’s not surprised -- he has to hear something about someone at least once a day. “And what would be his ulterior motive?”
“Romancing your brother.”
With a roll of his eyes, Taekwoon turns back around to his work. “Good luck to him, then.”
Hakyeon tuts. “Poor child. It’s so tragic watching them try.”
“You tried.”
“I was half-joking about dating your brother.” Hakyeon wrinkles his nose. “You made it quite clear how you felt about that.”
“That’s right.”
Hakyeon goes quiet for a few moments, and Taekwoon believes it’s safe to resume taxes when Hakyeon explodes into a fit of laughter. He’s holding his sides, eyes screwed shut, and now Taekwoon gets up. “What? What happened?”
Hakyeon points, and in the docking center, the owner of the red Syndrome U3 has somehow fallen, seemingly of his own accord. “He’s a wreck,” Hakyeon squeezes out between guffaws.
And here races Wonsik, jogging out in his muscle shirt with the sides cut low to expose his rib cage and baggy shorts -- in all, he looks like a beach boy with his outfit and messy hair, and that’s how he catches most of his admirers.
Taekwoon shakes his head and sits back at the desk, muttering, “Poor kid,” under his breath.
Poor Hongbin.
There’s a very real chance he’ll have to switch identities, move to a new city, and live as recluse for the rest of his life. There’s water on his pants, and his palms are skinned from the concrete he’s just fallen on. Not even to mention his damaged pride.
He was trying to just get out of his mobile, bring the keys inside, maybe say hi to Wonsik on the way and hope to the celestial bodies above that Wonsik would be the one to wash his mobile. Like most days he comes.
But no. Hongbin was to trip over his own two feet on his way out of his mobile’s door, catching on his own ankle of all things, and trip onto the wet ground. And there lays his pride, broken. Along with the skin on his hands.
And to top it off -- “Are you okay?”
Wonsik to the rescue.
Now, to the average observer, this may not be as bad as it seems. Wonsik will run over, ask if Hongbin’s okay, Hongbin can appreciate Wonsik’s concern and watch how he frets over Hongbin’s state of being, and he can see Wonsik’s lithe muscles up close, his bleached hair up close.
But Hongbin is a meticulous creature of habit. He comes up with a plan before hand; he executes said plan; and he basks in the rewards that he already accounted for. Falling on his face and making a fool of himself only reaps the benefits of physical and emotional pain for now Wonsik has seen him as a fool, and he must be a fool in Wonsik’s eyes.
It’s all to hell.
“Hey, are you okay?” Wonsik repeats it, looking frightened by a lack of response.
Hongbin snaps to. “Oh, y- yeah. Fine.” His palms are bloodied -- trivial in the face of this. Wonsik’s picking him up with those muscles Hongbin was thinking about earlier, and Hongbin fears his heart potentially stopping is more important. Yeah, and there he goes; Wonsik sets Hongbin on two feet without much help from the latter, and Hongbin tries to keep his head up, wanting most to duck and hide forever.
“Oh.” Wonsik drops down by Hongbin’s feet -- wow, what a view -- and returns at eye level -- oh, now this is certainly a view -- with Hongbin’s keys in his hand. “These are yours. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Y- yeah.”
“If you go inside, I’m sure Sanghyuk can find you something for your hands; those look like they hurt, ouch.” Wonsik now keeps staring at his hands, and he shouldn’t do that. “Yeah, okay, yeah, go inside and Sanghyuk will definitely know what to do.”
He’s telling Hongbin to go inside, but Wonsik is actually walking him to the door of the small building. The docking center isn’t full, but there’s enough eyes around witnessing this to only intensify Hongbin’s many emotions.
“You want what you always get, right? Standard wash?”
“Mm-hmm.” Hongbin’s robbed of most intelligent speech. It’s terrible.
“Alright, yeah, so go inside, and I’ll get on that, and, yeah, Sanghyuk.” Wonsik opens the door, pushes Hongbin right on through, and says to the young man at the counter, “Find him some band-aids and, umm, stuff for his hands.” He leaves quickly, and Sanghyuk’s smirking at him.
“Don’t say it,” Hongbin mutters, hollow. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Please.”
Sanghyuk, most of him hidden behind the tall counter, holds up two hands. “I don’t need to; I saw it all through the door.”
“Just give me the damn band-aids.”
Hongbin’s on first name basis with many at the retro mobile wash. They wash any sort of vehicle still in use on road or sky: automobiles, skymobiles, even transporters of the most wealthy. Hongbin’s family gifted him a skymobile with the promise to pay for his higher schooling in trade that Hongbin kept a near perfect score in all his classes. It sounded doable at the time, but now Hongbin is feeling the stress.
But that’s not pertinent to Hongbin’s very real, very large crush on the owner’s son. Truthfully, the two had gone to school together as teenagers, but they were part of very different crowds -- Hongbin belonging to the more sociable prep group and Wonsik to the loud-music-and-sleeping-in-class class sort of kids. Hongbin never had a strong impression of him besides a hood always pulled up over Wonsik’s head, curled up in his desk. That changed the day Hongbin took his mobile to here to get washed and Wonsik smiled at him for the very first time.
Hongbin has washed his hands, and Sanghyuk insisted on being the one to put the band-aids on him. Hongbin wouldn’t dare to refuse Sanghyuk’s voluntary help.
“Don’t worry. Wonsik ran out like he was about to win a race or something. That brings good fortune.”
“Shut it,” Hongbin mumbles. His cheeks are burning, and Sanghyuk may be trying to bandage Hongbin’s inner turmoil, but it’s a big turmoil, not able to be treated so easily.
There’s no one inside the waiting room besides them so Sanghyuk’s free to smirk all he wants. “No, believe me; it was really cute. He just got up and booked it out of here.”
“Probably worried if the paying customer’s going to sue.”
Sanghyuk tilts his head. “Well….”
A different head pops out of the door that Hongbin’s gathered is the office. “Hey, is that guy okay?” It’s Taekwoon, Wonsik’s brother, and Sanghyuk swivels in his chair to grin at him. He’s a sly one. Sanghyuk jerks a thumb at Hongbin. “He’s okay.”
Taekwoon looks embarrassed as he realizes Hongbin’s standing there. “Ah, good. Glad you’re alright.” Hongbin wonders how feasible it is to melt into the floor and disappear.
Taekwoon retracts back into the office, leaving the two alone in the reception area again. Sanghyuk studies Hongbin for a moment with his fingers steepled together, a smile still on his face. “You know you can just talk to him?”
“I don’t think it’s that easy.”
“He’s really easy to talk to,” Sanghyuk says. “He’s only slightly awkward, but since you’re awkward--”
Hongbin’s eyes flash.
“--it’s okay. He’s good at filling in conversation.”
“I’m not that bad.”
Sanghyuk ignores him and leans in to quietly say, “Just talk to him. Try it. Watching you agonize over him is pretty painful. This has been, what, almost two months now?”
Hongbin grumbles, “You think it’s that easy to talk to him?”
“Yes? I do it every day?”
The drilling of Hongbin’s nails into the counter signifies this was the wrong answer. “You’re also not worried about appearances in front of him.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about it either after that whole mess.” Sanghyuk waves his hand toward the outside. “Just say a something, and -- bold idea -- he might actually give you a real response besides ‘what wash were you looking for today?’”
Hongbin turns the idea over in his head about talking to Wonsik a full three days. The first day he lays in bed, watching the live planetarium sequence play out on his ceiling, and contemplating if he talks to Wonsik what should he even say? The second is spent weighing the pros and cons, and he’s trying to decide how funny he is -- should he say something funny? The jokes are nixed on the third day. Everything is nixed. He wants to talk to Wonsik, but nothing comes to mind besides an dull whirring in his brain.
And it’s time to get his mobile washed again.
This time he lands it near the front of the building, smoothes his flyaway hairs in the mirror, makes sure his lunch isn’t sticking to his face before getting out in a slow and cautious manner. He makes sure his legs are in order and stands tall.
Wonsik’s standing by the rear of the Hongbin’s skymobile. Hongbin wants to scream, also wants to know how long he’s been there, if he witnessed the entirety of Hongbin’s painfully slow exit-- Actually, no, he doesn’t want to know.
“Hi.”
Hongbin manages a smile -- too wide, too toothy, he knows -- and says, “Hi.”
“Today’s been pretty slow, but I somehow knew you’d be here.” Wonsik’s smiling, cheeks scrunched up, and Hongbin’s mortification is ever-present. There will be no way to get it to leave.
“Oh, yeah. That’s me.” Talk to him, Hongbin screams internally. His inner self is punching around in there, kicking and screaming, and he’s prodded to say, “Do you like working here?” A slight pause. “You’re just here all the time.” Top it off with a smile -- okay, better.
Wonsik’s smile dims not a bit. “I wish I wasn’t here all the time, but I really need the money. My dad’s also really focused on me learning ‘the trade.’” He makes air quotes, and no one even makes air quotes anymore. Maybe Hongbin’s grandmother. Maybe. “So, yeah, I’m pretty much here all the time. How about you? Are you going to school?”
“Yeah. It’s definitely…not fun.”
Wonsik’s laugh is bright; it comes from his stomach. When he laughs, his eyes crinkle and everything in his face moves upward, and Hongbin can see his teeth. His knees get weak, and he knows he has it bad.
“Did you want the same thing as always?” This is when Hongbin realizes he’s been standing here having the beginnings of a Real Conversation. It feels too surreal. He nods, and Wonsik beams at him. “Alright, well, I’ll go ahead and get on that.”
Hongbin totters in to see Sanghyuk, legs unstable, and he walks through the door to meet the grinning kid. Before he can say anything, Sanghyuk mentions, “I told you.”
“I feel weak.”
“Understandable.”
Hongbin speaks into his hands, knowing he’s ruining everything, that Sanghyuk will never let him live this down, but there’s a well of excitement jolting through him. It’s like walking on clouds. Yes, it was the tiniest of talks, but…!
“It’s progress,” Sanghyuk voices. And that’s exactly what it is. “Now talk to him again. And again. And again.”
“But what if I die.”
“You’re not going to die.” Sanghyuk’s typing away on the touch screen on the other side of the desk; he’s good at juggling Hongbin’s woes and his job. “You’re going to be the first one of Wonsik’s admirers to actually get a date. I’ll make sure of that.”
Hongbin knows better than to feel flattered. “What’s in it for you?”
“A paid day off. By all means, for this, I should be getting at least three, but Taekwoon wasn’t for that.” Sanghyuk explains, “I have a deal going on with Taekwoon and his friend, but I’m not losing.”
Despite Sanghyuk’s ulterior motives and the fact that Wonsik’s brother is even in on this, Hongbin doesn’t let it deter him from striking up more inconsequential conversation with Wonsik. It’s little exchanges always to and from the shop, about superficial stuff really, but Hongbin can count it as progress. Two weeks pass like this before Hongbin, once again, has everything ripped from beneath him.
Hongbin lands in the holding center, in his usual spot, and anticipates Wonsik’s genial smile and his greeting, but Hongbin exits his skymobile only to the customary sounds of whirring engines and spraying water. Not Wonsik’s accompanying laugh. He’s not here.
Oh. Hongbin tries to not frown, to not let it show on his face because an older man is taking a cleaning droid to the lot, sudsing down the concrete. He’s looking at Hongbin as the droid cleans beside him.
“He’s inside.” He points at the building, Sanghyuk’s abode, and Hongbin wonders if it’s that obvious that he’s only here to see Wonsik.
“Uh, thank you,” Hongbin mumbles, and he gets a nod in response. The college student speed-walks across the lot and opens the door to find a few workers crowding Sanghyuk’s desk, all conversing in fairly loud tones.
Wonsik can be spotted by his clothes, baggy shorts and the cut up shirt. He’s standing amidst some others that Hongbin recognizes, and the first to notice him is a lady standing at the edge. She taps Wonsik on the shoulder, and he turns around to smile at Hongbin. He breaks away from the throng to stand by him.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was time.”
“Time?”
“You usually come about now. I forgot to check the clock.” Hongbin’s stomach is moving dangerously close into his ribcage. “Let’s go back out; it’s too loud in here.”
They move back outside, and the bass of laughter and overlapping chatter is lost when the door shuts behind them. Wonsik speaks up first. “Do you know about the races that go on during the weekend?” He says it with his hands in his pockets, eyes wandering a bit.
“Uh, no? I can pretend I do, though.”
“Alright.” Wonsik spins on his heels to walk backwards; Hongbin can count the laugh lines that frame his crinkled eyes. “That’s just what we were talking about in there. I have another race coming up next Saturday, and my partner quit on me just a few days ago.”
“Oh. Wow.” Hongbin’s not sure how to gauge this. Wonsik looks happy, but that can’t be completely reliable. “That sucks.”
Wonsik shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal. Kinda saw it coming. But that still leaves me short two hands.”
“Ah.”
“Sanghyuk mentioned that you might want to help.”
Hongbin’s brain throws on all the brakes; his heart stops; his footsteps freeze. “Uh, he- wow, he did?” His reaction is less than stellar -- he knows. Wonsik knows. It’s obvious from the way the other boy’s smile falls, drifting between the expressions of varying regret. Hongbin struggles to reign himself in, but his mind keeps starting and stalling out.
He forces himself into motion. “Sanghyuk did? It’s just that I don’t know that much about any of this.” He laughs, even if it’s too late to play this off.
Wonsik looks more at ease now, once again in motion as Hongbin jogs to catch up. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Would you like to learn? I know what I need, so if you were just willing to just be my helper.” Wonsik pauses. “It doesn’t sound very fun if I put it like that.”
“Sure.” Hongbin nearly bites his tongue. What kind of answer--! “That’d be great. Uh, what time….”
They’re standing next to Hongbin’s skymobile now, and Hongbin leans on it to relieve his legs from fully supporting his weight; he doesn’t trust them. Especially since Wonsik says, “If you give me your code I can just use that to message you later?”
“Yeah, um, that sounds good.”
“I guess I should do your ride now.” Wonsik chuckles, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, looking like he momentarily forgot what they were here for. “I’ll be back with the stuff if you just want to wait here.” He jogs past Hongbin, and Hongbin picks up Wonsik’s sweat mixed with the smell of oil. It’s pretty sad that this smell isn’t even offensive to him, that he wouldn’t mind Wonsik hugging him and breathing in more of it….
He stops himself there, and he wonders if Sanghyuk has done him a favor or a terrible disservice.
Wonsik messages him that night, his words scrolling across Hongbin’s glass display on his wall. He included a skymobile emoticon, and no one uses those anymore either. Wonsik subsequently sends “vroom vroom.”
He’s to meet Wonsik at his garage at his house at the place that he resides when not washing cars, and this is totally okay. Hongbin’s good with this. Wonsik sends the directions -- they’re not hard to follow -- and all he has to do is wait till the weekend.
Hongbin and Sanghyuk aren’t on close enough terms to have each other’s codes, but Hongbin feels like he needs to scream to someone about this. He wants to vent his worries, impossible worries, to a listening ear. Talking to his parents isn’t an option. They would just mortify him and probably confirm his worries rather than settle them.
Oh, well.
He forgoes going to the mobile wash in favor of over-thinking what his time with Wonsik will be like. Like what if he realizes Hongbin’s a major dork, and Wonsik is strictly anti-dork? He’s going into this unsupervised; he worries himself in circles.
The day arrives, and Hongbin is calculated casual. He wears his worn jeans and a dark solid colored t-shirt; the most time is spent fixing his hair and making sure his dark circles are hidden. No tripping, he tells himself. Not today. No embarrassment, just fun.
He gives himself the full pep-talk and raps on Wonsik’s garage door. It’s separate from the white house it sits with and has its own sidewalk to the street. He lives just ten minutes from his work, right in the downtown area. It wasn’t a hard find.
The whole garage door slides upward, and Hongbin sees feet, legs, then a grinning Wonsik with his toned arms pushing the door up and up until it’s fully away. “Hey, you made it,” he greets. He’s wearing usual attire: cut-up tank top and his baggy shorts and he’s got his hat twisted backward with the brim acting like a fancy fin on old sports cars.
He’s still got his hands hooked above him and leaning far into Hongbin’s space. Hongbin manages a, “yeah,” and a nervous smile. He points behind him to where he landed on the small strip in front of the garage, hoping to divert the attention in that direction. Another skymobile and an airbike sit there. “Is the airbike yours?”
“Yeah, have you ridden one before?”
Hongbin shakes his head. He came close to riding his uncle’s before his mother yanked him off by the ear; it wasn’t his fault but he’d been grounded. “No. How is it?”
“Like flying. I could give you a ride some time. You know, if you were cool with that. It’s seriously great.” Wonsik backs up, and Hongbin finally looks around him to see the inside of a typical garage. Tools hung on the wall, work bench a mess, thing in the center that’s the object of attention.
“Is this what you’re working on? For the race?”
Wonsik puts his hand on the hood. It’s an old car. At least five decades out of use. “Yep. This is what I’m using. The engine is what I’m revamping. It blew out right before the race last time, so I didn’t get the chance to show it off.”
The car is a frosty blue color with a zig-zag of a black stripe running down both sides. Wonsik opens the hood and gestures for Hongbin to come look. “I hope you know I don’t know what I’m looking at.”
Wonsik laughs. “This is where the engine is along with basically all the other important stuff.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know, what makes the car run.”
“Uh-huh.” Wonsik lets out a snort of laughter, and Hongbin feels the need to defend himself. “I told you I don’t know much about this stuff.”
“I’m not making fun of you.” Wonsik turns and leans against the car so he can look at Hongbin. “What do you like, then?”
Hongbin likes a few things. It’s all nerdy business, but Wonsik seems open to listening. He takes a chance. “Have you heard of the card game -- uh -- Quest?”
“You play Quest?” Wonsik’s disbelief is shown plain on his face. He looks stunned. “I know people who play it, and you--? You play it?”
“Yeah.” Hongbin can feel himself puffing up. Uh oh. “You asked me, okay--”
“No, sorry. I’m just trying to picture you playing it. I know people, and there’s kind of a stereotype that comes to mind.” Wonsik mutters, “Virtual simulators. Hack junkies.”
“I’m a nerd at heart, sorry.”
“Well, don’t be sorry. It’s funny.” Wonsik shifts, folding his arms another way. “I have no idea how to play it; it’s all too complicated for me. I can barely get the controls on my port figured out.”
Hongbin covers a snort.
Wonsik narrows his eyes, silly expression growing. “Hmm, so you can laugh at me, but I can’t laugh at you?”
“I guess fair’s fair.”
“Right.” Wonsik raps his knuckles on the car. “Okay, we better get started before it gets too late and we waste the afternoon.” He props the hood up with the little pop-up metal stand. “Just the other day I got it to stop rattling, thankfully.”
“Sounds promising.” Hongbin’s eyes wander the garage, already disinterested with the engine talk. “What’s that?”
Wonsik peers around the hood to see the door Hongbin’s referring to at the back of the garage. “That’s my room.”
“You live out here?”
“Yeah. Last summer, my dad and I made the addition so I’m not trapped in the house anymore. It just gives me a little breathing room.”
“Oh. That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah, just gets kinda cold in the winter. Hey, if you look on the bench I need the wrench on the right; it has the red tape on it.” Hongbin retrieves said wrench with minimal confusion thanks to Wonsik’s superior indications. The workbench is a mess, and Hongbin wrinkles his nose at it.
Wonsik thanks him and turns back to what’s under his hands. “So, you’re in school, right?” His voice sounds different as it bounces off the metal pieces he’s elbow deep in. “What are you studying?”
“Business.” Hongbin shoves his hands in his pockets. “Still deciding, uh, what route, but it’s something in the business field.”
“You gotta be way suave for that. You could probably do it.”
“I’m suave?”
“Sure.” Wonsik is clanking, and he grunts as he starts to twist on something. “I remember your oral report from science. You seemed pretty good.”
How does he remember that? Hongbin wasn’t aware that Wonsik’s ever paid attention to him, and this throws light on a multitude of things. School boy Hongbin was a disaster -- a poor, confused kid trying to figure out his way in life; he was embarrassing in all senses of the word. He hopes to any higher power that Wonsik doesn’t remember school too clearly.
Wonsik comes up for air to look at Hongbin. “But business is cool. That’s more than decent to live on. Are you happy with it?”
“Happy enough. The benefits outweigh the drawbacks, and for me that’s enough.”
“That’s cool. You wanna hand me that can? By the front tire?”
Hongbin first locates the front tire. Easy. He then picks up the can which isn’t quite a can but more of a aluminum weapon -- it’s so heavy. He lugs it back to Wonsik who takes it like the thing is filled with air. Hongbin chooses not to comment on that and asks, “Where do these races even take place?”
Wonsik smiles and rubs his nose with the back of his hand after he sets the can by his feet. He smears some dirt there. “Edge of the town. You know at that old paved racetrack? These aren’t exactly ‘legal,’ by the way, so keep it pretty hush hush.”
“Sounds risky.”
“Not as much as you think. As long as we keep it clean, the cop-bots let it slide.” Wonsik gives Hongbin a square look. “Oh, and don’t mention it around my dad. Not that you would, but he’s the real one to watch out for.”
“Does he know you race?”
“He knows, but he hates hearing about it.” Wonsik chuckles. “Now that I’ve moved to the garage my parents try to ignore it. Taekwoon doesn’t really like it either.”
“Is he moved out?”
“Yeah, definitely. He lives over in the nice condos with Hakyeon. You’ve seen Hakyeon, right?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, it’s not important. But yeah, he’s not here anymore.” Wonsik gestures with his head. “Anyway, c’mere, and I’ll show you the engine.”
There’s a scuffle of shoes against concrete behind them, and Hongbin turns first to see the pair of boys in the garage doorway. They’re slim with tiny waists and arms, but aren’t that much shorter than he or Wonsik. “Hey, beautiful,” the one on the right calls.
Wonsik doesn’t turn around. “If you two don’t leave me alone….” It’s half-hearted, not too loud, and Wonsik gives Hongbin a sideways glance. “Race rivals,” he shares.
Hongbin looks back to the one who voiced Hongbin’s thoughts of Wonsik -- the one with bleached hair, shredded peach crop top and jeans that barely stay up on his hips -- and the boy moves inward, moving behind Wonsik to wrap himself around his back, hands tugging on his waist. “Your car looks like a piece of shit,” he coos, smile unable to be held back.
Hongbin looks to the other boy, still hanging back, and the boy waves at him with a flat expression. Hongbin waves back.
Wonsik grows disgruntled with the leech attached to his back. Hongbin is getting an eyeful of pale back and tummy. “Let go,” Wonsik grumbles, not bothering to try and shake him off. “Taemin, let go.”
Taemin nuzzles into Wonsik’s back, rubbing his cheek on the damp shirt. Gross, but Hongbin is also envious. “Who’s the dude? Where’s Jaehwan?”
“Gone. And this is Hongbin. And you’re giving him a terrible first impression -- let go.”
The boy, Taemin, relinquishes his grip, but keeps a hand wrapped in the bottom of Wonsik’s tank-top. His eyes shift over to Hongbin. “I’m Taemin. I’m gonna kick Wonsik’s ass next Saturday.” And as an after-thought he adds, “That’s Jongin.”
Attention is brought to the quiet one, and he waves again. Hongbin waves back.
“And this is Hongbin,” Wonsik says, clearing his throat. He doesn’t bother unlatching the grip in his shirt. “He’s my new partner; he’s helping me out with some stuff.”
“Like I said,” Taemin says, following Wonsik as Wonsik walks to the back of the car, near the trunk. “What happened to Jaehwan? I thought you two had it all worked out?”
“Yeah, well, things change. Why are you here? Come to slash my tires?”
Taemin throws his head back and laughs; his teeth look serrated in the yellow light. “No, Jongin wanted to check on you, and here we are.”
“Except he’s nice.” Wonsik points at Jongin and looks down at Taemin’s hold on him. “You’re just nosey.”
Hongbin feels just out of step with the conversation, too much unfamiliar ground to deal with and takes up Jongin’s method: smile politely and wait it out. Jongin doesn’t say much but once Taemin and Wonsik start bickering, he lets out a solid, “Taemin, let’s go.”
And that’s that. Taemin releases Wonsik, and he trots back to Jongin only to flick the hat off his head. He doesn’t say goodbye, and Jongin is the one to say it in the form of a wave. Hongbin waves back.
“Sorry about that,” Wonsik says once it’s back to just them. The two boys sped off in their airbike parked on the road, zipping into the air, and Hongbin felt another pang of envy.
“Uh, who are they?”
“Taemin’s a racer.” Wonsik rolls his eyes. “He’s kinda like that always, but you get used to it. They’re also my friends, but that’s an unnecessary detail considering we’re gonna wipe the floor with them.”
Hongbin’s thoughts stumble, like they do so often. “‘We?’ I’ve handed you a wrench. And that thing. I can’t really claim much of anything here.”
Wonsik grins, leaning on the car. “You’re on my team, so we will beat them.”
Three days trickle by with Hongbin stopping by Wonsik’s garage for each of them. He hasn’t been to get his mobile washed, and that’s okay. He’s tired of dirtying it nearly every other day to spend his thinning supply of funds on made up excuses to see Wonsik. Visiting the garage is much easier.
Wonsik shows him this and that about automobile parts, what this does, what that does, don’t do that, but Hongbin is hopeless and retains close to nothing of what he’s been told. He can’t help it. He’ll redirect conversation to explore more of Wonsik’s likes and dislikes, and they joke around, and Hongbin can feel himself fall deeper and deeper in--
Wonsik drops his wrench on the ground, loud clang awakening Hongbin from his daydreams. “It’s got an automatic transmission,” he says, excitement buzzing through him and Hongbin almost feels bad for losing focus. “And the horsepower this thing had -- wow. I can only imagine what it was like brand new. I’ve been working on this for months and months, and….” He jitters on the spot. “Ah, it’s so close.”
Hongbin blinks a few times, stretches. “Next Saturday. That’s your day.”
“Can’t wait for Taemin to eat exhaust.”
Taemin and Jongin haven’t stopped by since their drop-in a few days ago, but Hongbin thinks that’s Taemin who keeps alerting Wonsik’s coder, the thing beeping incessantly in his room. He thinks it’s him because Wonsik always makes the same face and never bothers to check it.
Hongbin flips a screwdriver in the air, trying to just catch it by the metal part (he saw Wonsik doing this yesterday), and says, “They don’t seem too bad.”
“Don’t let Jongin fool you; he was just nervous because he doesn’t know you.” Wonsik sits on the ground with goggles tugged over his eyes. He fiddles with the spray gun. “They’re too much trouble.”
“What were they saying about your partner?”
The spray gun goes off with a loud hiss, smacking Wonsik in the face with a nice stripe of black paint. He lets go of it, yelling out obscenities, and the gun clatters to the floor.
Hongbin nearly falls off the bench as his Wonsik Radar goes critical. He grabs the taller boy by the shoulder, cranes to see his face, and starts wiping his wrist against Wonsik’s mouth to remove as much as he can. “Are you okay?”
Wonsik’s voice comes out muffled against Hongbin’s skin, but he manages to curse some more and he shoves himself backward, away from Hongbin, to start spitting on the floor. Black spit dribbles out.
“Water,” Wonsik croaks, and Hongbin springs up to find the closest water bottle. Wonsik takes it and gargles to spit more tainted water out. After a minute of this, he finally puts the empty bottle down, looking like death has passed over him.
“Are you okay?” Hongbin asks once more, fingers curling and uncurling in unsure fists.
Another stream of water. “Yeah, I’m good. Bleh, tastes like….” Wonsik shudders and puckers like he’s swallowed a sea of lemons.
“Is that stuff toxic -- oh my god.”
“I’ll be okay. It’s fine.”
Hongbin is mildly concerned about not contacting a poison bot, but he figures if Wonsik says he’s okay, then he must be. Hongbin still picks up the paint’s packaging and scans the ingredients list. As he reads, “So, um, your partner…? You said he quit on you?”
He feels nosy, but that doesn’t dissuade his curiosity any.
Wonsik now has a broken stripe of paint on his face: just over his mouth up to his goggles -- he rips those off -- and then into his hair. He scrubs at his lips some more. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Not very nice of him to leave you before I race. I guess.”
“It was mutual.” Wonsik’s face is still puckered, so Hongbin can’t tell if it’s from the paint or subject matter.
“I guess we’ll really have to win to show him up, then.”
Wonsik pauses -- a laugh works its way out. “Are you promising me a win?”
“Hey, that’s up to you, but sure.” Hongbin tries out, “I haven’t seen you race. What happens if we get there, I put my bet on you-- do you guys do bets?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay, well,” Hongbin can’t hear his own words, only his heartbeat. “What if you race, and I realize I’ve made the wrong choice?”
Hongbin ducks back to the ingredients list. Flirting is beyond him -- he’s not sure if anything came out right or just mildly offensive. The repetition of the word “why” rings in his head.
“Well, then,” Wonsik says, sounding on the verge of laughter. That’s how he always sounds, Hongbin notes in distress. “We’ve had a lot of fun in the meantime, and I’d vouch a few washes for you as payback.” He tacks on, “That is if you want to be seen with me afterward.”
Of course, Hongbin screams. But on the inside. For sure on the inside. Outwardly, he answers, “Well, I guess we better win.”
From Wonsik’s smile, Hongbin thinks he at least already has.
“I would’ve expected you to plant one on him by now,” Sanghyuk comments, flippant as always, as he thumbs through a magazine.
Hongbin’s arrived in a down hour, and every employee looked at him in variations of shock when he neglected to land in the docking center, ready to get a wash. Alternatively, he parked in the lot next door and did a walk-run to speak to Sanghyuk.
He’s bursting from the seams; he has to share this.
“I’m still working on the talking part,” Hongbin tells Sanghyuk, eyeing him over the counter. “He hasn’t formally uninvited me from ‘helping’ him; that’s a step in the right direction.”
“This is good news.” Sanghyuk fails to sound like it is. Coffee brews behind him in its automated brewer, and it gargles as it completes the brew cycle. “So you’re going to the race? They say those can get kinda wild. The one I went to some guy lost his arm.”
“He what?”
“Or he already was missing it, but I swear they’re not for the weak-willed. I got tattoo offers from three different people.”
Hongbin’s stomach liquefies. “Well, I’m not weak-willed.”
Sanghyuk puckers his lips, and Hongbin knows he’s making a joke about Hongbin and kissing, and this is the worst time for Wonsik to slide through the door.
So of course he does. “Oh, Hongbin.” The door tinkles shut, and Sanghyuk presses his lips into a line, burying his face into his magazine. “You’re here?”
Wonsik is in standard attire, and Hongbin wants to kiss him. Bad. Really bad. He doesn’t.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Hongbin nods. “Yep, as…usual.”
“You’re mobile’s not out there.”
“I parked over there.” Hongbin points in what he believes is the correct direction. “I just had to talk to Sanghyuk.”
Wonsik stands there for a moment, looking a little blank, and he nods as well. “I see. Okay. Well, you’re coming Saturday?” This will be the fourth time he’s asked, and the fourth time Hongbin’s said yes. “Okay, cool. Um, I’ll see you then.” He backs out the door, not bothering to stay, and Hongbin feels his middle cramping up.
“Mm, love pains.”
“You two are gross, you know that?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Sanghyuk shakes his head. The coffee beeps, and Sanghyuk wheels himself to the office door to bang upon it. Two heads, Taekwoon and another’s, pop out. Hongbin figures this is Hakyeon. “Coffee’s ready,” the desk boy intones, and there’s a predicament as the three struggle to get around each other and over to the caffeine.
Once Sanghyuk’s free, he smiles at Hongbin and poses the question to the room, “What’s Wonsik’s favorite type of flower?”
Taekwoon, instantaneous: “Roses.”
Hakyeon wrinkles his nose, with his paper cup held half-way to his mouth. “That’s so typical. I’d expect that from him.”
Taekwoon rolls his eyes, and it takes them a moment before they realize Hongbin’s standing there -- really see him. Hakyeon reacts first. “You’re giving Wonsik flowers? He’ll be delighted.”
Taekwoon gives him a once-over -- Hongbin’s bones feel chilly, is there a draft? -- and he gives a slight nod. “Roses,” he confirms.
Pleased, Sanghyuk holds up his hands, now sitting back at his desk. He’s reminiscent of an athlete guaranteed to win first place. “Give him flowers and kiss him Saturday night -- this is your mission.”
Taekwoon looks down at Sanghyuk, frowning, and knocks him on the head. But he doesn’t object. Hongbin feels like he actually has a chance.
Saturday is a nightmare.
Wonsik messaged Hongbin with the directions, but this time there was no attached emoticons. Straight and direct. Hongbin tries to not read into it.
He dresses himself in his best pants and a button-up that he leaves untucked. He fiddles with the sleeves even after Sanghyuk tells him to stop.
“I can’t believe I have to hold your hand while you’re trying to woo Wonsik.”
“You’re not holding my hand.” Hongbin grips the steering with white knuckles. “I’m fine. I’m okay. This is great.” The roses are in the back; Hongbin went with red instead of agonizing over the variants of colors. Classic red. Can’t go wrong with that.
“I will say,” Sanghyuk shares, “I’m happy to finally ride in this thing. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous you get to fly one of these.”
Hongbin, a good driver, is paying attention to air-traffic laws and speculating how bad tonight will go, and misses that Sanghyuk even spoke. “All you have to do is keep me company so I don’t get tattooed.”
“Right.”
“And once I bring out flowers, you can’t watch.”
“I was looking forward to that part.”
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
Hongbin makes a slow descent a few blocks from the place -- “You’ll have to walk a bit,” Wonsik told him -- and preps himself mentally. He can do this. Tonight is the night to tell Wonsik.
“We shouldn’t have brought your Syndrome,” Sanghyuk laments. “We’ll come back and the hatch will be smashed open. And that brings up a good point. You are bringing me home so I don’t want to look for you guys just to find out that you and Wonsik left me behind. I don’t care if you guys are in a full-on make-out session -- you guys are responsible for me.”
Hongbin exits his skymobile, and codes the alarm once Sanghyuk follows suit. “Stop talking about it. My stomach is getting weird.”
The lot is full, and Hongbin wonders how many of these other mobiles belong to the racers. They weave around mobiles to get to the sidewalk and walk through the sparse neighborhood to the edges of town, to where the road is dark and not so populated.
Hongbin gave Sanghyuk the flowers to hold; he was going to give them to Wonsik after the race, and if he sees him before he doesn’t want Wonsik to think anything of them. Sanghyuk complained about this too.
Soon they hear the rumble of antique gas engines, exhaust puffing, and they can see the crowd swarmed even outside the arena, under the zero energy lamps. Hongbin steels himself. “Okay, I got this.”
He can almost feel Sanghyuk roll his eyes.
Hongbin didn’t know what he was expecting when Wonsik told him about the race, but this seems about right. They squeeze inside, past everyone milling about, and there are ancient cars lined up all against the walls, away from the oval track in the center. Toyotas and Fords and some brands Hongbin doesn’t recognize. Their owners stand beside their hunks of spray-painted metal and talk about their prospects on winnings.
Hongbin zooms in on Wonsik. He’s dressed in his usual attire, deep cut tank top and shredded jeans, and has his brow low until he sees Hongbin and Sanghyuk. And then it drops again.
That’s different.
“Hey,” Hongbin greets after he’s pushed everyone aside to get to Wonsik. He looks great. Stunning. Amazing. Hongbin feels like a wet noodle. “How’s it going?”
Wonsik shrugs, looking very out of step with his usual laid back and bright attitude, and says, “Alright. I think I’m up in ten. Not so sure. Hey, Sanghyuk.”
Sanghyuk salutes him, rose bouquet tucked under his arm. Wonsik must not find it strange to see him with flowers because he doesn’t comment on those, and instead pushes off his hood. “You guys can wait here I gotta go check something. I’ll be right back.”
Hongbin and Sanghyuk are left with the car. Sanghyuk kicks it. “It’s ugly; you guys made it ugly.”
Hongbin’s teeth dig into his lower lip, squishing it back and forth. “Why do you think he’s upset?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
The chewing resumes. Hongbin recalls what he’s said since he last saw him, and nothing seems particularly upsetting or able to be taken the wrong way. Maybe it’s not a him thing and more of a someone else thing. Maybe he will ask.
“I- I’m gonna talk to him.” He looks to Sanghyuk. “Will you be okay here for a moment?”
“Sure,” Sanghyuk replies, leaning against the door. He sets the flowers on the roof. “I’m just waiting for my date. Casually against this car.”
“Alright, I’ll be back.”
Hongbin follows what he thinks is Wonsik’s path, to the back of the throng. He can smell alcohol -- a lady accidentally pours some on his shoe as he scuttles by -- and this is not his ideal scene at all. The smells in a combo with the noise are making his head hurt and now his shoe -- thankfully, not his good shoe -- smells like a bar. A romantic evening.
“Oof!”
Hongbin lands flat on his butt, and a body is splayed out over him, a bundle of limbs. His bottom aches. “Hello,” is the muffled voice.
And behind it, a rougher, “I leave you for two seconds, and you’ve killed him.” This is Wonsik. Hongbin peels his eyes open, candy-colored hair in his face and then not in his face. Wonsik is holding the person up by his underarms, and Hongbin is once again caught by the wild fluff of pastel hair.
“Pink,” he mutters, dumbly.
“Hello,” the person repeats, square frames slipping down his long nose. Slowly, he pushes himself into a standing position, and he pats Wonsik’s cheek in thanks. It’s different from Taemin. It sets off a reaction inside Hongbin.
“Who is this?” The young man pushes his glasses back up and procures a toothy grin. He looks friendly enough -- too friendly. “Are you Wonsik’s new partner?”
Hongbin helps himself up. “Yeah. And you’re…?”
“Jaehwan. Old partner. Someone didn’t like me breaking everything.”
“He broke everything.” That’s almost a pout in Wonsik’s voice; Hongbin’s sure of it. He still looks stormy, and his eyes keep shifting between pastel boy and Hongbin like Wonsik’s waiting for something. Huh.
Jaehwan clears his throat. “Anyway. I’m just here to scope out Heeyeon’s prospects for next week. She’s got a clear shot if Taemin doesn’t drag his ugly thing out then too.” He gives Wonsik’s hand a squeeze before he waves at both of them and is swallowed by the crowd.
“That’s your partner?”
“Well, was. You’re my partner. Jaehwan’s just,” Wonsik purses his lips, “work.”
“Were you, like, in love with him or something?”
Hongbin would pay good money to take that back. He sucks in a breath, screws his eyes shut. Let the ground open up and swallow him, let it just swallow him whole. “Wait,” he says. Stutters. Stumbles. “Wait. I mean….”
Wonsik, rigid and blushing(?), has his eyes open wide like his tire wheels. “I, what?”
“No. Wait. I mean.”
“Like, a long time ago, but that’s not why he’s not my partner anymore.” Hongbin’s never seen Wonsik’s cheeks this pink. He fears his own may look worse. “Like, he just destroys everything he touches, and we disagree a lot now, and he wanted to work with that girl, and--”
“I’m sorry.”
They stare at each other, and Wonsik breaks eye contact to rub at his face. “Not sure why it matters.”
Hongbin hears the low rumble in his words, and he winces. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”
“Where’d you leave Sanghyuk?”
“Back by the car.”
“I thought you’d be with him.” Wonsik shifts, eyes moving away and elsewhere, all around.
Not sure if he’s hearing correctly, Hongbin blinks, waits a moment to process what he’s heard, and says, “Not if you’re over here.”
Wonsik drags his eyes back. His brow looks like a scribble, all bunged up. “See, you say stuff like that, but I know you like Sanghyuk, and--”
Hongbin has failed. He buries his face in his hands and is two seconds from screaming. This is not going the way he planned it to. “No. Why- Why would I even like him?”
“You guys aren’t a thing? You gave him flowers?”
“Oh, no. No, no no no no.” Hongbin’s slaps his hands repeatedly against his cheeks. He hears Wonsik tell him to stop, quietly, but he bangs on them some more. He can’t believe this.
“Then why’s he--”
“The flowers are for you.” No turning back now. Out with it. He has to make Wonsik understand. “I asked him to hold them; they’re for you.”
“For me?” Wonsik softens, his face losing the scrunched look, and he blinks several times. “Wh- What? Why for me?”
“Did you really think I sat in your garage just to look at antique car parts? Do I look like that sort of person?” When Wonsik doesn’t respond, Hongbin adds, “I was there for you.” And mumbles, “I wanted to get to know you.”
“I thought- I thought you were dating Sanghyuk. You were always at the shop and talking to him, and then the other day-- And then he shows up with flowers tonight.”
“Not in a million years.” Hongbin feels powerful enough to crush an airbike between his hands. It’s now or never. He clears his throat. “So I was going to give you the flowers after the race. Now that the surprise is sort of ruined, do you want them?” Or should I get out of your sight in case I’ve totally read all of this wrong?
There’s a crack in the night air and a voice yells, louder than the rest. The words “start up” are more prominent than the rest, and Wonsik looks back to Hongbin with a grin. “I gotta go now, but I’d love that, okay?”
“I want to take you on a date. Would you love that, too?”
Slight pause -- “Yeah, I would. But only if Sanghyuk doesn’t come.” Wonsik walks forward to grab Hongbin’s hand. He tugs him along through the crowd. “I’ve had a rough day, but this definitely just turned things around.”
“Good.”
They return to Wonsik’s car, and Sanghyuk brightens up instantly. “Hand holding. My paid day off is a going to be a reality.” Wonsik doesn’t let Hongbin’s hand go until he gets in his car to drive it to the race line.
Sanghyuk and Hongbin meet Wonsik at the starting line (an uneven white line sprayed onto the pavement), and Hongbin squints at the car running beside Wonsik’s. It’s Taemin’s.
“Taemin thought the stars were a good idea.”
Hongbin peers over his shoulder to see Jongin standing there, pointing at Taemin’s car. It has a racing fin and under that fin are the stars Jongin talks of. “Oh. Those are….” Hongbin struggles to not make a face. The stars are orange on blue paint, and they appear messy, their edges smudged up.
“We argued over those, and they dried like that. We’re gonna have to fix them later.”
A shouting match back where they came has Sanghyuk’s attention, so Hongbin leans back a little into Jongin’s space. “I promised Wonsik a win.”
“I promised that to Taemin.”
Amid their laughter, Sanghyuk cuts in. “I guess someone will have to be disappointed.” He seems to be the ever-present voice of reality.
The man on the loud speaker comes back on asking if the drivers are ready, and the crowd turns to attention behind them, pressing in and jeering at the racers. Hongbin is more calm then he expected; he got the hard part over with -- his hand feels like Wonsik’s holding it still -- and this is just extra. He hopes for a win for Wonsik’s sake.
Wonsik’s engine revs loud as the countdown begins. The crowd screams the numbers down from five, and Hongbin feels his hands tighten with each count.
“Go!”
Tires spin, and they’re off.
“So you gave Sanghyuk that day off?”
“Had to.” Taekwoon scrunches his nose, typing data into his computer. “He was raving the whole weekend. You know he submitted a picture? He left it on my desk.”
Hakyeon tears his eyes away from the window. “A picture of what?”
“A blurry photo of Wonsik kissing that kid.”
“I guess the roses worked.”
Taekwoon leans back in his seat, fake leather whining under him. “I dropped by on Monday just to see what happened about the race, you know?” Hakyeon nods. “And they were making out on his car.”
“Oh. Ew.” Hakyeon looks back out the office window. “It was much more fun when the kid was falling all over the place.”
By “fun” Hakyeon most definitely means “interesting.” Taekwoon’s not sure how he feels. As long as he doesn’t walk in on anything he shouldn’t see, he thinks he’ll be okay. He thinks.
“So now I’m trying to meet Sanghyuk’s demands.”
“Good luck with that.” Hakyeon pauses. “They’re spraying each other outside. Revolting. I’m sure your dad’s going to tell them to knock it off.”
Taekwoon rolls his chair to the window, and sure enough his brother and the Syndrome boy are acting like they’re twelve, squirting water everywhere and confusing the cleaning droid. He tries not to smile -- really tries -- but when the boy slips on the concrete in a wild tumble, he can’t help it.
“Poor kid,” Hakyeon mutters.
“Oh, yes,” Taekwoon comments, watching as Wonsik hovers over the boy in such a close proximity, checking to make sure he’s okay. “Poor kid.” He chuckles and returns to his work.
Pairing: Ravi/Hongbin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8,865
Summary: Hongbin wants to date the boy at the retro mobile wash -- his red skymobile suffers for it.
a/n: this was a fic i wrote for the forvixx exchange! thanks to jeodoboleo for the super intense hand-holding as i wrestled with this one. this turned out better than i expected so here it is //Cross-Posted//♡
“Do you ever notice that kid that comes through?”
Taekwoon looks up from the desk he’s sitting at and to his friend perched at the wide window. He’s using his keen eyesight to lurk on the outside scene, but Taekwoon only stares at him, a bit perplexed. Taekwoon’s been having a good day, filing taxes at a good rate even with Hakyeon’s commentary, but this comment catches him off-guard, prickling at his curiosity.
So he asks, “What kid?”
Hakyeon reels in his catch. “You know, the kid with the red Syndrome U3; he looks tiny behind that steering -- goodness.”
“Syndrome U3….”
“The red one,” Hakyeon adds helpfully.
Taekwoon takes a moment longer to think about it. “Oh.” And now he remembers. “He’s barely a kid.”
“Younger than me -- same thing. He comes through just about every other day, and I’m just wondering how he could get his mobile so dirty.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t feign disinterest.” Hakyeon is now pressed against the glass, looking at something fascinating just beyond his reach. “He looks like a nice boy, but he has ulterior motives.”
Taekwoon puts down his pen and swivels his chair so he fully faces his friend and the window. Hakyeon’s ruffling the front of his shirt from his odd posture, and he looks ridiculous like this, but Taekwoon’s not surprised -- he has to hear something about someone at least once a day. “And what would be his ulterior motive?”
“Romancing your brother.”
With a roll of his eyes, Taekwoon turns back around to his work. “Good luck to him, then.”
Hakyeon tuts. “Poor child. It’s so tragic watching them try.”
“You tried.”
“I was half-joking about dating your brother.” Hakyeon wrinkles his nose. “You made it quite clear how you felt about that.”
“That’s right.”
Hakyeon goes quiet for a few moments, and Taekwoon believes it’s safe to resume taxes when Hakyeon explodes into a fit of laughter. He’s holding his sides, eyes screwed shut, and now Taekwoon gets up. “What? What happened?”
Hakyeon points, and in the docking center, the owner of the red Syndrome U3 has somehow fallen, seemingly of his own accord. “He’s a wreck,” Hakyeon squeezes out between guffaws.
And here races Wonsik, jogging out in his muscle shirt with the sides cut low to expose his rib cage and baggy shorts -- in all, he looks like a beach boy with his outfit and messy hair, and that’s how he catches most of his admirers.
Taekwoon shakes his head and sits back at the desk, muttering, “Poor kid,” under his breath.
Poor Hongbin.
There’s a very real chance he’ll have to switch identities, move to a new city, and live as recluse for the rest of his life. There’s water on his pants, and his palms are skinned from the concrete he’s just fallen on. Not even to mention his damaged pride.
He was trying to just get out of his mobile, bring the keys inside, maybe say hi to Wonsik on the way and hope to the celestial bodies above that Wonsik would be the one to wash his mobile. Like most days he comes.
But no. Hongbin was to trip over his own two feet on his way out of his mobile’s door, catching on his own ankle of all things, and trip onto the wet ground. And there lays his pride, broken. Along with the skin on his hands.
And to top it off -- “Are you okay?”
Wonsik to the rescue.
Now, to the average observer, this may not be as bad as it seems. Wonsik will run over, ask if Hongbin’s okay, Hongbin can appreciate Wonsik’s concern and watch how he frets over Hongbin’s state of being, and he can see Wonsik’s lithe muscles up close, his bleached hair up close.
But Hongbin is a meticulous creature of habit. He comes up with a plan before hand; he executes said plan; and he basks in the rewards that he already accounted for. Falling on his face and making a fool of himself only reaps the benefits of physical and emotional pain for now Wonsik has seen him as a fool, and he must be a fool in Wonsik’s eyes.
It’s all to hell.
“Hey, are you okay?” Wonsik repeats it, looking frightened by a lack of response.
Hongbin snaps to. “Oh, y- yeah. Fine.” His palms are bloodied -- trivial in the face of this. Wonsik’s picking him up with those muscles Hongbin was thinking about earlier, and Hongbin fears his heart potentially stopping is more important. Yeah, and there he goes; Wonsik sets Hongbin on two feet without much help from the latter, and Hongbin tries to keep his head up, wanting most to duck and hide forever.
“Oh.” Wonsik drops down by Hongbin’s feet -- wow, what a view -- and returns at eye level -- oh, now this is certainly a view -- with Hongbin’s keys in his hand. “These are yours. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Y- yeah.”
“If you go inside, I’m sure Sanghyuk can find you something for your hands; those look like they hurt, ouch.” Wonsik now keeps staring at his hands, and he shouldn’t do that. “Yeah, okay, yeah, go inside and Sanghyuk will definitely know what to do.”
He’s telling Hongbin to go inside, but Wonsik is actually walking him to the door of the small building. The docking center isn’t full, but there’s enough eyes around witnessing this to only intensify Hongbin’s many emotions.
“You want what you always get, right? Standard wash?”
“Mm-hmm.” Hongbin’s robbed of most intelligent speech. It’s terrible.
“Alright, yeah, so go inside, and I’ll get on that, and, yeah, Sanghyuk.” Wonsik opens the door, pushes Hongbin right on through, and says to the young man at the counter, “Find him some band-aids and, umm, stuff for his hands.” He leaves quickly, and Sanghyuk’s smirking at him.
“Don’t say it,” Hongbin mutters, hollow. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Please.”
Sanghyuk, most of him hidden behind the tall counter, holds up two hands. “I don’t need to; I saw it all through the door.”
“Just give me the damn band-aids.”
Hongbin’s on first name basis with many at the retro mobile wash. They wash any sort of vehicle still in use on road or sky: automobiles, skymobiles, even transporters of the most wealthy. Hongbin’s family gifted him a skymobile with the promise to pay for his higher schooling in trade that Hongbin kept a near perfect score in all his classes. It sounded doable at the time, but now Hongbin is feeling the stress.
But that’s not pertinent to Hongbin’s very real, very large crush on the owner’s son. Truthfully, the two had gone to school together as teenagers, but they were part of very different crowds -- Hongbin belonging to the more sociable prep group and Wonsik to the loud-music-and-sleeping-in-class class sort of kids. Hongbin never had a strong impression of him besides a hood always pulled up over Wonsik’s head, curled up in his desk. That changed the day Hongbin took his mobile to here to get washed and Wonsik smiled at him for the very first time.
Hongbin has washed his hands, and Sanghyuk insisted on being the one to put the band-aids on him. Hongbin wouldn’t dare to refuse Sanghyuk’s voluntary help.
“Don’t worry. Wonsik ran out like he was about to win a race or something. That brings good fortune.”
“Shut it,” Hongbin mumbles. His cheeks are burning, and Sanghyuk may be trying to bandage Hongbin’s inner turmoil, but it’s a big turmoil, not able to be treated so easily.
There’s no one inside the waiting room besides them so Sanghyuk’s free to smirk all he wants. “No, believe me; it was really cute. He just got up and booked it out of here.”
“Probably worried if the paying customer’s going to sue.”
Sanghyuk tilts his head. “Well….”
A different head pops out of the door that Hongbin’s gathered is the office. “Hey, is that guy okay?” It’s Taekwoon, Wonsik’s brother, and Sanghyuk swivels in his chair to grin at him. He’s a sly one. Sanghyuk jerks a thumb at Hongbin. “He’s okay.”
Taekwoon looks embarrassed as he realizes Hongbin’s standing there. “Ah, good. Glad you’re alright.” Hongbin wonders how feasible it is to melt into the floor and disappear.
Taekwoon retracts back into the office, leaving the two alone in the reception area again. Sanghyuk studies Hongbin for a moment with his fingers steepled together, a smile still on his face. “You know you can just talk to him?”
“I don’t think it’s that easy.”
“He’s really easy to talk to,” Sanghyuk says. “He’s only slightly awkward, but since you’re awkward--”
Hongbin’s eyes flash.
“--it’s okay. He’s good at filling in conversation.”
“I’m not that bad.”
Sanghyuk ignores him and leans in to quietly say, “Just talk to him. Try it. Watching you agonize over him is pretty painful. This has been, what, almost two months now?”
Hongbin grumbles, “You think it’s that easy to talk to him?”
“Yes? I do it every day?”
The drilling of Hongbin’s nails into the counter signifies this was the wrong answer. “You’re also not worried about appearances in front of him.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about it either after that whole mess.” Sanghyuk waves his hand toward the outside. “Just say a something, and -- bold idea -- he might actually give you a real response besides ‘what wash were you looking for today?’”
Hongbin turns the idea over in his head about talking to Wonsik a full three days. The first day he lays in bed, watching the live planetarium sequence play out on his ceiling, and contemplating if he talks to Wonsik what should he even say? The second is spent weighing the pros and cons, and he’s trying to decide how funny he is -- should he say something funny? The jokes are nixed on the third day. Everything is nixed. He wants to talk to Wonsik, but nothing comes to mind besides an dull whirring in his brain.
And it’s time to get his mobile washed again.
This time he lands it near the front of the building, smoothes his flyaway hairs in the mirror, makes sure his lunch isn’t sticking to his face before getting out in a slow and cautious manner. He makes sure his legs are in order and stands tall.
Wonsik’s standing by the rear of the Hongbin’s skymobile. Hongbin wants to scream, also wants to know how long he’s been there, if he witnessed the entirety of Hongbin’s painfully slow exit-- Actually, no, he doesn’t want to know.
“Hi.”
Hongbin manages a smile -- too wide, too toothy, he knows -- and says, “Hi.”
“Today’s been pretty slow, but I somehow knew you’d be here.” Wonsik’s smiling, cheeks scrunched up, and Hongbin’s mortification is ever-present. There will be no way to get it to leave.
“Oh, yeah. That’s me.” Talk to him, Hongbin screams internally. His inner self is punching around in there, kicking and screaming, and he’s prodded to say, “Do you like working here?” A slight pause. “You’re just here all the time.” Top it off with a smile -- okay, better.
Wonsik’s smile dims not a bit. “I wish I wasn’t here all the time, but I really need the money. My dad’s also really focused on me learning ‘the trade.’” He makes air quotes, and no one even makes air quotes anymore. Maybe Hongbin’s grandmother. Maybe. “So, yeah, I’m pretty much here all the time. How about you? Are you going to school?”
“Yeah. It’s definitely…not fun.”
Wonsik’s laugh is bright; it comes from his stomach. When he laughs, his eyes crinkle and everything in his face moves upward, and Hongbin can see his teeth. His knees get weak, and he knows he has it bad.
“Did you want the same thing as always?” This is when Hongbin realizes he’s been standing here having the beginnings of a Real Conversation. It feels too surreal. He nods, and Wonsik beams at him. “Alright, well, I’ll go ahead and get on that.”
Hongbin totters in to see Sanghyuk, legs unstable, and he walks through the door to meet the grinning kid. Before he can say anything, Sanghyuk mentions, “I told you.”
“I feel weak.”
“Understandable.”
Hongbin speaks into his hands, knowing he’s ruining everything, that Sanghyuk will never let him live this down, but there’s a well of excitement jolting through him. It’s like walking on clouds. Yes, it was the tiniest of talks, but…!
“It’s progress,” Sanghyuk voices. And that’s exactly what it is. “Now talk to him again. And again. And again.”
“But what if I die.”
“You’re not going to die.” Sanghyuk’s typing away on the touch screen on the other side of the desk; he’s good at juggling Hongbin’s woes and his job. “You’re going to be the first one of Wonsik’s admirers to actually get a date. I’ll make sure of that.”
Hongbin knows better than to feel flattered. “What’s in it for you?”
“A paid day off. By all means, for this, I should be getting at least three, but Taekwoon wasn’t for that.” Sanghyuk explains, “I have a deal going on with Taekwoon and his friend, but I’m not losing.”
Despite Sanghyuk’s ulterior motives and the fact that Wonsik’s brother is even in on this, Hongbin doesn’t let it deter him from striking up more inconsequential conversation with Wonsik. It’s little exchanges always to and from the shop, about superficial stuff really, but Hongbin can count it as progress. Two weeks pass like this before Hongbin, once again, has everything ripped from beneath him.
Hongbin lands in the holding center, in his usual spot, and anticipates Wonsik’s genial smile and his greeting, but Hongbin exits his skymobile only to the customary sounds of whirring engines and spraying water. Not Wonsik’s accompanying laugh. He’s not here.
Oh. Hongbin tries to not frown, to not let it show on his face because an older man is taking a cleaning droid to the lot, sudsing down the concrete. He’s looking at Hongbin as the droid cleans beside him.
“He’s inside.” He points at the building, Sanghyuk’s abode, and Hongbin wonders if it’s that obvious that he’s only here to see Wonsik.
“Uh, thank you,” Hongbin mumbles, and he gets a nod in response. The college student speed-walks across the lot and opens the door to find a few workers crowding Sanghyuk’s desk, all conversing in fairly loud tones.
Wonsik can be spotted by his clothes, baggy shorts and the cut up shirt. He’s standing amidst some others that Hongbin recognizes, and the first to notice him is a lady standing at the edge. She taps Wonsik on the shoulder, and he turns around to smile at Hongbin. He breaks away from the throng to stand by him.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was time.”
“Time?”
“You usually come about now. I forgot to check the clock.” Hongbin’s stomach is moving dangerously close into his ribcage. “Let’s go back out; it’s too loud in here.”
They move back outside, and the bass of laughter and overlapping chatter is lost when the door shuts behind them. Wonsik speaks up first. “Do you know about the races that go on during the weekend?” He says it with his hands in his pockets, eyes wandering a bit.
“Uh, no? I can pretend I do, though.”
“Alright.” Wonsik spins on his heels to walk backwards; Hongbin can count the laugh lines that frame his crinkled eyes. “That’s just what we were talking about in there. I have another race coming up next Saturday, and my partner quit on me just a few days ago.”
“Oh. Wow.” Hongbin’s not sure how to gauge this. Wonsik looks happy, but that can’t be completely reliable. “That sucks.”
Wonsik shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal. Kinda saw it coming. But that still leaves me short two hands.”
“Ah.”
“Sanghyuk mentioned that you might want to help.”
Hongbin’s brain throws on all the brakes; his heart stops; his footsteps freeze. “Uh, he- wow, he did?” His reaction is less than stellar -- he knows. Wonsik knows. It’s obvious from the way the other boy’s smile falls, drifting between the expressions of varying regret. Hongbin struggles to reign himself in, but his mind keeps starting and stalling out.
He forces himself into motion. “Sanghyuk did? It’s just that I don’t know that much about any of this.” He laughs, even if it’s too late to play this off.
Wonsik looks more at ease now, once again in motion as Hongbin jogs to catch up. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Would you like to learn? I know what I need, so if you were just willing to just be my helper.” Wonsik pauses. “It doesn’t sound very fun if I put it like that.”
“Sure.” Hongbin nearly bites his tongue. What kind of answer--! “That’d be great. Uh, what time….”
They’re standing next to Hongbin’s skymobile now, and Hongbin leans on it to relieve his legs from fully supporting his weight; he doesn’t trust them. Especially since Wonsik says, “If you give me your code I can just use that to message you later?”
“Yeah, um, that sounds good.”
“I guess I should do your ride now.” Wonsik chuckles, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, looking like he momentarily forgot what they were here for. “I’ll be back with the stuff if you just want to wait here.” He jogs past Hongbin, and Hongbin picks up Wonsik’s sweat mixed with the smell of oil. It’s pretty sad that this smell isn’t even offensive to him, that he wouldn’t mind Wonsik hugging him and breathing in more of it….
He stops himself there, and he wonders if Sanghyuk has done him a favor or a terrible disservice.
Wonsik messages him that night, his words scrolling across Hongbin’s glass display on his wall. He included a skymobile emoticon, and no one uses those anymore either. Wonsik subsequently sends “vroom vroom.”
He’s to meet Wonsik at his garage at his house at the place that he resides when not washing cars, and this is totally okay. Hongbin’s good with this. Wonsik sends the directions -- they’re not hard to follow -- and all he has to do is wait till the weekend.
Hongbin and Sanghyuk aren’t on close enough terms to have each other’s codes, but Hongbin feels like he needs to scream to someone about this. He wants to vent his worries, impossible worries, to a listening ear. Talking to his parents isn’t an option. They would just mortify him and probably confirm his worries rather than settle them.
Oh, well.
He forgoes going to the mobile wash in favor of over-thinking what his time with Wonsik will be like. Like what if he realizes Hongbin’s a major dork, and Wonsik is strictly anti-dork? He’s going into this unsupervised; he worries himself in circles.
The day arrives, and Hongbin is calculated casual. He wears his worn jeans and a dark solid colored t-shirt; the most time is spent fixing his hair and making sure his dark circles are hidden. No tripping, he tells himself. Not today. No embarrassment, just fun.
He gives himself the full pep-talk and raps on Wonsik’s garage door. It’s separate from the white house it sits with and has its own sidewalk to the street. He lives just ten minutes from his work, right in the downtown area. It wasn’t a hard find.
The whole garage door slides upward, and Hongbin sees feet, legs, then a grinning Wonsik with his toned arms pushing the door up and up until it’s fully away. “Hey, you made it,” he greets. He’s wearing usual attire: cut-up tank top and his baggy shorts and he’s got his hat twisted backward with the brim acting like a fancy fin on old sports cars.
He’s still got his hands hooked above him and leaning far into Hongbin’s space. Hongbin manages a, “yeah,” and a nervous smile. He points behind him to where he landed on the small strip in front of the garage, hoping to divert the attention in that direction. Another skymobile and an airbike sit there. “Is the airbike yours?”
“Yeah, have you ridden one before?”
Hongbin shakes his head. He came close to riding his uncle’s before his mother yanked him off by the ear; it wasn’t his fault but he’d been grounded. “No. How is it?”
“Like flying. I could give you a ride some time. You know, if you were cool with that. It’s seriously great.” Wonsik backs up, and Hongbin finally looks around him to see the inside of a typical garage. Tools hung on the wall, work bench a mess, thing in the center that’s the object of attention.
“Is this what you’re working on? For the race?”
Wonsik puts his hand on the hood. It’s an old car. At least five decades out of use. “Yep. This is what I’m using. The engine is what I’m revamping. It blew out right before the race last time, so I didn’t get the chance to show it off.”
The car is a frosty blue color with a zig-zag of a black stripe running down both sides. Wonsik opens the hood and gestures for Hongbin to come look. “I hope you know I don’t know what I’m looking at.”
Wonsik laughs. “This is where the engine is along with basically all the other important stuff.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know, what makes the car run.”
“Uh-huh.” Wonsik lets out a snort of laughter, and Hongbin feels the need to defend himself. “I told you I don’t know much about this stuff.”
“I’m not making fun of you.” Wonsik turns and leans against the car so he can look at Hongbin. “What do you like, then?”
Hongbin likes a few things. It’s all nerdy business, but Wonsik seems open to listening. He takes a chance. “Have you heard of the card game -- uh -- Quest?”
“You play Quest?” Wonsik’s disbelief is shown plain on his face. He looks stunned. “I know people who play it, and you--? You play it?”
“Yeah.” Hongbin can feel himself puffing up. Uh oh. “You asked me, okay--”
“No, sorry. I’m just trying to picture you playing it. I know people, and there’s kind of a stereotype that comes to mind.” Wonsik mutters, “Virtual simulators. Hack junkies.”
“I’m a nerd at heart, sorry.”
“Well, don’t be sorry. It’s funny.” Wonsik shifts, folding his arms another way. “I have no idea how to play it; it’s all too complicated for me. I can barely get the controls on my port figured out.”
Hongbin covers a snort.
Wonsik narrows his eyes, silly expression growing. “Hmm, so you can laugh at me, but I can’t laugh at you?”
“I guess fair’s fair.”
“Right.” Wonsik raps his knuckles on the car. “Okay, we better get started before it gets too late and we waste the afternoon.” He props the hood up with the little pop-up metal stand. “Just the other day I got it to stop rattling, thankfully.”
“Sounds promising.” Hongbin’s eyes wander the garage, already disinterested with the engine talk. “What’s that?”
Wonsik peers around the hood to see the door Hongbin’s referring to at the back of the garage. “That’s my room.”
“You live out here?”
“Yeah. Last summer, my dad and I made the addition so I’m not trapped in the house anymore. It just gives me a little breathing room.”
“Oh. That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah, just gets kinda cold in the winter. Hey, if you look on the bench I need the wrench on the right; it has the red tape on it.” Hongbin retrieves said wrench with minimal confusion thanks to Wonsik’s superior indications. The workbench is a mess, and Hongbin wrinkles his nose at it.
Wonsik thanks him and turns back to what’s under his hands. “So, you’re in school, right?” His voice sounds different as it bounces off the metal pieces he’s elbow deep in. “What are you studying?”
“Business.” Hongbin shoves his hands in his pockets. “Still deciding, uh, what route, but it’s something in the business field.”
“You gotta be way suave for that. You could probably do it.”
“I’m suave?”
“Sure.” Wonsik is clanking, and he grunts as he starts to twist on something. “I remember your oral report from science. You seemed pretty good.”
How does he remember that? Hongbin wasn’t aware that Wonsik’s ever paid attention to him, and this throws light on a multitude of things. School boy Hongbin was a disaster -- a poor, confused kid trying to figure out his way in life; he was embarrassing in all senses of the word. He hopes to any higher power that Wonsik doesn’t remember school too clearly.
Wonsik comes up for air to look at Hongbin. “But business is cool. That’s more than decent to live on. Are you happy with it?”
“Happy enough. The benefits outweigh the drawbacks, and for me that’s enough.”
“That’s cool. You wanna hand me that can? By the front tire?”
Hongbin first locates the front tire. Easy. He then picks up the can which isn’t quite a can but more of a aluminum weapon -- it’s so heavy. He lugs it back to Wonsik who takes it like the thing is filled with air. Hongbin chooses not to comment on that and asks, “Where do these races even take place?”
Wonsik smiles and rubs his nose with the back of his hand after he sets the can by his feet. He smears some dirt there. “Edge of the town. You know at that old paved racetrack? These aren’t exactly ‘legal,’ by the way, so keep it pretty hush hush.”
“Sounds risky.”
“Not as much as you think. As long as we keep it clean, the cop-bots let it slide.” Wonsik gives Hongbin a square look. “Oh, and don’t mention it around my dad. Not that you would, but he’s the real one to watch out for.”
“Does he know you race?”
“He knows, but he hates hearing about it.” Wonsik chuckles. “Now that I’ve moved to the garage my parents try to ignore it. Taekwoon doesn’t really like it either.”
“Is he moved out?”
“Yeah, definitely. He lives over in the nice condos with Hakyeon. You’ve seen Hakyeon, right?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, it’s not important. But yeah, he’s not here anymore.” Wonsik gestures with his head. “Anyway, c’mere, and I’ll show you the engine.”
There’s a scuffle of shoes against concrete behind them, and Hongbin turns first to see the pair of boys in the garage doorway. They’re slim with tiny waists and arms, but aren’t that much shorter than he or Wonsik. “Hey, beautiful,” the one on the right calls.
Wonsik doesn’t turn around. “If you two don’t leave me alone….” It’s half-hearted, not too loud, and Wonsik gives Hongbin a sideways glance. “Race rivals,” he shares.
Hongbin looks back to the one who voiced Hongbin’s thoughts of Wonsik -- the one with bleached hair, shredded peach crop top and jeans that barely stay up on his hips -- and the boy moves inward, moving behind Wonsik to wrap himself around his back, hands tugging on his waist. “Your car looks like a piece of shit,” he coos, smile unable to be held back.
Hongbin looks to the other boy, still hanging back, and the boy waves at him with a flat expression. Hongbin waves back.
Wonsik grows disgruntled with the leech attached to his back. Hongbin is getting an eyeful of pale back and tummy. “Let go,” Wonsik grumbles, not bothering to try and shake him off. “Taemin, let go.”
Taemin nuzzles into Wonsik’s back, rubbing his cheek on the damp shirt. Gross, but Hongbin is also envious. “Who’s the dude? Where’s Jaehwan?”
“Gone. And this is Hongbin. And you’re giving him a terrible first impression -- let go.”
The boy, Taemin, relinquishes his grip, but keeps a hand wrapped in the bottom of Wonsik’s tank-top. His eyes shift over to Hongbin. “I’m Taemin. I’m gonna kick Wonsik’s ass next Saturday.” And as an after-thought he adds, “That’s Jongin.”
Attention is brought to the quiet one, and he waves again. Hongbin waves back.
“And this is Hongbin,” Wonsik says, clearing his throat. He doesn’t bother unlatching the grip in his shirt. “He’s my new partner; he’s helping me out with some stuff.”
“Like I said,” Taemin says, following Wonsik as Wonsik walks to the back of the car, near the trunk. “What happened to Jaehwan? I thought you two had it all worked out?”
“Yeah, well, things change. Why are you here? Come to slash my tires?”
Taemin throws his head back and laughs; his teeth look serrated in the yellow light. “No, Jongin wanted to check on you, and here we are.”
“Except he’s nice.” Wonsik points at Jongin and looks down at Taemin’s hold on him. “You’re just nosey.”
Hongbin feels just out of step with the conversation, too much unfamiliar ground to deal with and takes up Jongin’s method: smile politely and wait it out. Jongin doesn’t say much but once Taemin and Wonsik start bickering, he lets out a solid, “Taemin, let’s go.”
And that’s that. Taemin releases Wonsik, and he trots back to Jongin only to flick the hat off his head. He doesn’t say goodbye, and Jongin is the one to say it in the form of a wave. Hongbin waves back.
“Sorry about that,” Wonsik says once it’s back to just them. The two boys sped off in their airbike parked on the road, zipping into the air, and Hongbin felt another pang of envy.
“Uh, who are they?”
“Taemin’s a racer.” Wonsik rolls his eyes. “He’s kinda like that always, but you get used to it. They’re also my friends, but that’s an unnecessary detail considering we’re gonna wipe the floor with them.”
Hongbin’s thoughts stumble, like they do so often. “‘We?’ I’ve handed you a wrench. And that thing. I can’t really claim much of anything here.”
Wonsik grins, leaning on the car. “You’re on my team, so we will beat them.”
Three days trickle by with Hongbin stopping by Wonsik’s garage for each of them. He hasn’t been to get his mobile washed, and that’s okay. He’s tired of dirtying it nearly every other day to spend his thinning supply of funds on made up excuses to see Wonsik. Visiting the garage is much easier.
Wonsik shows him this and that about automobile parts, what this does, what that does, don’t do that, but Hongbin is hopeless and retains close to nothing of what he’s been told. He can’t help it. He’ll redirect conversation to explore more of Wonsik’s likes and dislikes, and they joke around, and Hongbin can feel himself fall deeper and deeper in--
Wonsik drops his wrench on the ground, loud clang awakening Hongbin from his daydreams. “It’s got an automatic transmission,” he says, excitement buzzing through him and Hongbin almost feels bad for losing focus. “And the horsepower this thing had -- wow. I can only imagine what it was like brand new. I’ve been working on this for months and months, and….” He jitters on the spot. “Ah, it’s so close.”
Hongbin blinks a few times, stretches. “Next Saturday. That’s your day.”
“Can’t wait for Taemin to eat exhaust.”
Taemin and Jongin haven’t stopped by since their drop-in a few days ago, but Hongbin thinks that’s Taemin who keeps alerting Wonsik’s coder, the thing beeping incessantly in his room. He thinks it’s him because Wonsik always makes the same face and never bothers to check it.
Hongbin flips a screwdriver in the air, trying to just catch it by the metal part (he saw Wonsik doing this yesterday), and says, “They don’t seem too bad.”
“Don’t let Jongin fool you; he was just nervous because he doesn’t know you.” Wonsik sits on the ground with goggles tugged over his eyes. He fiddles with the spray gun. “They’re too much trouble.”
“What were they saying about your partner?”
The spray gun goes off with a loud hiss, smacking Wonsik in the face with a nice stripe of black paint. He lets go of it, yelling out obscenities, and the gun clatters to the floor.
Hongbin nearly falls off the bench as his Wonsik Radar goes critical. He grabs the taller boy by the shoulder, cranes to see his face, and starts wiping his wrist against Wonsik’s mouth to remove as much as he can. “Are you okay?”
Wonsik’s voice comes out muffled against Hongbin’s skin, but he manages to curse some more and he shoves himself backward, away from Hongbin, to start spitting on the floor. Black spit dribbles out.
“Water,” Wonsik croaks, and Hongbin springs up to find the closest water bottle. Wonsik takes it and gargles to spit more tainted water out. After a minute of this, he finally puts the empty bottle down, looking like death has passed over him.
“Are you okay?” Hongbin asks once more, fingers curling and uncurling in unsure fists.
Another stream of water. “Yeah, I’m good. Bleh, tastes like….” Wonsik shudders and puckers like he’s swallowed a sea of lemons.
“Is that stuff toxic -- oh my god.”
“I’ll be okay. It’s fine.”
Hongbin is mildly concerned about not contacting a poison bot, but he figures if Wonsik says he’s okay, then he must be. Hongbin still picks up the paint’s packaging and scans the ingredients list. As he reads, “So, um, your partner…? You said he quit on you?”
He feels nosy, but that doesn’t dissuade his curiosity any.
Wonsik now has a broken stripe of paint on his face: just over his mouth up to his goggles -- he rips those off -- and then into his hair. He scrubs at his lips some more. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Not very nice of him to leave you before I race. I guess.”
“It was mutual.” Wonsik’s face is still puckered, so Hongbin can’t tell if it’s from the paint or subject matter.
“I guess we’ll really have to win to show him up, then.”
Wonsik pauses -- a laugh works its way out. “Are you promising me a win?”
“Hey, that’s up to you, but sure.” Hongbin tries out, “I haven’t seen you race. What happens if we get there, I put my bet on you-- do you guys do bets?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay, well,” Hongbin can’t hear his own words, only his heartbeat. “What if you race, and I realize I’ve made the wrong choice?”
Hongbin ducks back to the ingredients list. Flirting is beyond him -- he’s not sure if anything came out right or just mildly offensive. The repetition of the word “why” rings in his head.
“Well, then,” Wonsik says, sounding on the verge of laughter. That’s how he always sounds, Hongbin notes in distress. “We’ve had a lot of fun in the meantime, and I’d vouch a few washes for you as payback.” He tacks on, “That is if you want to be seen with me afterward.”
Of course, Hongbin screams. But on the inside. For sure on the inside. Outwardly, he answers, “Well, I guess we better win.”
From Wonsik’s smile, Hongbin thinks he at least already has.
“I would’ve expected you to plant one on him by now,” Sanghyuk comments, flippant as always, as he thumbs through a magazine.
Hongbin’s arrived in a down hour, and every employee looked at him in variations of shock when he neglected to land in the docking center, ready to get a wash. Alternatively, he parked in the lot next door and did a walk-run to speak to Sanghyuk.
He’s bursting from the seams; he has to share this.
“I’m still working on the talking part,” Hongbin tells Sanghyuk, eyeing him over the counter. “He hasn’t formally uninvited me from ‘helping’ him; that’s a step in the right direction.”
“This is good news.” Sanghyuk fails to sound like it is. Coffee brews behind him in its automated brewer, and it gargles as it completes the brew cycle. “So you’re going to the race? They say those can get kinda wild. The one I went to some guy lost his arm.”
“He what?”
“Or he already was missing it, but I swear they’re not for the weak-willed. I got tattoo offers from three different people.”
Hongbin’s stomach liquefies. “Well, I’m not weak-willed.”
Sanghyuk puckers his lips, and Hongbin knows he’s making a joke about Hongbin and kissing, and this is the worst time for Wonsik to slide through the door.
So of course he does. “Oh, Hongbin.” The door tinkles shut, and Sanghyuk presses his lips into a line, burying his face into his magazine. “You’re here?”
Wonsik is in standard attire, and Hongbin wants to kiss him. Bad. Really bad. He doesn’t.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Hongbin nods. “Yep, as…usual.”
“You’re mobile’s not out there.”
“I parked over there.” Hongbin points in what he believes is the correct direction. “I just had to talk to Sanghyuk.”
Wonsik stands there for a moment, looking a little blank, and he nods as well. “I see. Okay. Well, you’re coming Saturday?” This will be the fourth time he’s asked, and the fourth time Hongbin’s said yes. “Okay, cool. Um, I’ll see you then.” He backs out the door, not bothering to stay, and Hongbin feels his middle cramping up.
“Mm, love pains.”
“You two are gross, you know that?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Sanghyuk shakes his head. The coffee beeps, and Sanghyuk wheels himself to the office door to bang upon it. Two heads, Taekwoon and another’s, pop out. Hongbin figures this is Hakyeon. “Coffee’s ready,” the desk boy intones, and there’s a predicament as the three struggle to get around each other and over to the caffeine.
Once Sanghyuk’s free, he smiles at Hongbin and poses the question to the room, “What’s Wonsik’s favorite type of flower?”
Taekwoon, instantaneous: “Roses.”
Hakyeon wrinkles his nose, with his paper cup held half-way to his mouth. “That’s so typical. I’d expect that from him.”
Taekwoon rolls his eyes, and it takes them a moment before they realize Hongbin’s standing there -- really see him. Hakyeon reacts first. “You’re giving Wonsik flowers? He’ll be delighted.”
Taekwoon gives him a once-over -- Hongbin’s bones feel chilly, is there a draft? -- and he gives a slight nod. “Roses,” he confirms.
Pleased, Sanghyuk holds up his hands, now sitting back at his desk. He’s reminiscent of an athlete guaranteed to win first place. “Give him flowers and kiss him Saturday night -- this is your mission.”
Taekwoon looks down at Sanghyuk, frowning, and knocks him on the head. But he doesn’t object. Hongbin feels like he actually has a chance.
Saturday is a nightmare.
Wonsik messaged Hongbin with the directions, but this time there was no attached emoticons. Straight and direct. Hongbin tries to not read into it.
He dresses himself in his best pants and a button-up that he leaves untucked. He fiddles with the sleeves even after Sanghyuk tells him to stop.
“I can’t believe I have to hold your hand while you’re trying to woo Wonsik.”
“You’re not holding my hand.” Hongbin grips the steering with white knuckles. “I’m fine. I’m okay. This is great.” The roses are in the back; Hongbin went with red instead of agonizing over the variants of colors. Classic red. Can’t go wrong with that.
“I will say,” Sanghyuk shares, “I’m happy to finally ride in this thing. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous you get to fly one of these.”
Hongbin, a good driver, is paying attention to air-traffic laws and speculating how bad tonight will go, and misses that Sanghyuk even spoke. “All you have to do is keep me company so I don’t get tattooed.”
“Right.”
“And once I bring out flowers, you can’t watch.”
“I was looking forward to that part.”
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
Hongbin makes a slow descent a few blocks from the place -- “You’ll have to walk a bit,” Wonsik told him -- and preps himself mentally. He can do this. Tonight is the night to tell Wonsik.
“We shouldn’t have brought your Syndrome,” Sanghyuk laments. “We’ll come back and the hatch will be smashed open. And that brings up a good point. You are bringing me home so I don’t want to look for you guys just to find out that you and Wonsik left me behind. I don’t care if you guys are in a full-on make-out session -- you guys are responsible for me.”
Hongbin exits his skymobile, and codes the alarm once Sanghyuk follows suit. “Stop talking about it. My stomach is getting weird.”
The lot is full, and Hongbin wonders how many of these other mobiles belong to the racers. They weave around mobiles to get to the sidewalk and walk through the sparse neighborhood to the edges of town, to where the road is dark and not so populated.
Hongbin gave Sanghyuk the flowers to hold; he was going to give them to Wonsik after the race, and if he sees him before he doesn’t want Wonsik to think anything of them. Sanghyuk complained about this too.
Soon they hear the rumble of antique gas engines, exhaust puffing, and they can see the crowd swarmed even outside the arena, under the zero energy lamps. Hongbin steels himself. “Okay, I got this.”
He can almost feel Sanghyuk roll his eyes.
Hongbin didn’t know what he was expecting when Wonsik told him about the race, but this seems about right. They squeeze inside, past everyone milling about, and there are ancient cars lined up all against the walls, away from the oval track in the center. Toyotas and Fords and some brands Hongbin doesn’t recognize. Their owners stand beside their hunks of spray-painted metal and talk about their prospects on winnings.
Hongbin zooms in on Wonsik. He’s dressed in his usual attire, deep cut tank top and shredded jeans, and has his brow low until he sees Hongbin and Sanghyuk. And then it drops again.
That’s different.
“Hey,” Hongbin greets after he’s pushed everyone aside to get to Wonsik. He looks great. Stunning. Amazing. Hongbin feels like a wet noodle. “How’s it going?”
Wonsik shrugs, looking very out of step with his usual laid back and bright attitude, and says, “Alright. I think I’m up in ten. Not so sure. Hey, Sanghyuk.”
Sanghyuk salutes him, rose bouquet tucked under his arm. Wonsik must not find it strange to see him with flowers because he doesn’t comment on those, and instead pushes off his hood. “You guys can wait here I gotta go check something. I’ll be right back.”
Hongbin and Sanghyuk are left with the car. Sanghyuk kicks it. “It’s ugly; you guys made it ugly.”
Hongbin’s teeth dig into his lower lip, squishing it back and forth. “Why do you think he’s upset?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
The chewing resumes. Hongbin recalls what he’s said since he last saw him, and nothing seems particularly upsetting or able to be taken the wrong way. Maybe it’s not a him thing and more of a someone else thing. Maybe he will ask.
“I- I’m gonna talk to him.” He looks to Sanghyuk. “Will you be okay here for a moment?”
“Sure,” Sanghyuk replies, leaning against the door. He sets the flowers on the roof. “I’m just waiting for my date. Casually against this car.”
“Alright, I’ll be back.”
Hongbin follows what he thinks is Wonsik’s path, to the back of the throng. He can smell alcohol -- a lady accidentally pours some on his shoe as he scuttles by -- and this is not his ideal scene at all. The smells in a combo with the noise are making his head hurt and now his shoe -- thankfully, not his good shoe -- smells like a bar. A romantic evening.
“Oof!”
Hongbin lands flat on his butt, and a body is splayed out over him, a bundle of limbs. His bottom aches. “Hello,” is the muffled voice.
And behind it, a rougher, “I leave you for two seconds, and you’ve killed him.” This is Wonsik. Hongbin peels his eyes open, candy-colored hair in his face and then not in his face. Wonsik is holding the person up by his underarms, and Hongbin is once again caught by the wild fluff of pastel hair.
“Pink,” he mutters, dumbly.
“Hello,” the person repeats, square frames slipping down his long nose. Slowly, he pushes himself into a standing position, and he pats Wonsik’s cheek in thanks. It’s different from Taemin. It sets off a reaction inside Hongbin.
“Who is this?” The young man pushes his glasses back up and procures a toothy grin. He looks friendly enough -- too friendly. “Are you Wonsik’s new partner?”
Hongbin helps himself up. “Yeah. And you’re…?”
“Jaehwan. Old partner. Someone didn’t like me breaking everything.”
“He broke everything.” That’s almost a pout in Wonsik’s voice; Hongbin’s sure of it. He still looks stormy, and his eyes keep shifting between pastel boy and Hongbin like Wonsik’s waiting for something. Huh.
Jaehwan clears his throat. “Anyway. I’m just here to scope out Heeyeon’s prospects for next week. She’s got a clear shot if Taemin doesn’t drag his ugly thing out then too.” He gives Wonsik’s hand a squeeze before he waves at both of them and is swallowed by the crowd.
“That’s your partner?”
“Well, was. You’re my partner. Jaehwan’s just,” Wonsik purses his lips, “work.”
“Were you, like, in love with him or something?”
Hongbin would pay good money to take that back. He sucks in a breath, screws his eyes shut. Let the ground open up and swallow him, let it just swallow him whole. “Wait,” he says. Stutters. Stumbles. “Wait. I mean….”
Wonsik, rigid and blushing(?), has his eyes open wide like his tire wheels. “I, what?”
“No. Wait. I mean.”
“Like, a long time ago, but that’s not why he’s not my partner anymore.” Hongbin’s never seen Wonsik’s cheeks this pink. He fears his own may look worse. “Like, he just destroys everything he touches, and we disagree a lot now, and he wanted to work with that girl, and--”
“I’m sorry.”
They stare at each other, and Wonsik breaks eye contact to rub at his face. “Not sure why it matters.”
Hongbin hears the low rumble in his words, and he winces. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”
“Where’d you leave Sanghyuk?”
“Back by the car.”
“I thought you’d be with him.” Wonsik shifts, eyes moving away and elsewhere, all around.
Not sure if he’s hearing correctly, Hongbin blinks, waits a moment to process what he’s heard, and says, “Not if you’re over here.”
Wonsik drags his eyes back. His brow looks like a scribble, all bunged up. “See, you say stuff like that, but I know you like Sanghyuk, and--”
Hongbin has failed. He buries his face in his hands and is two seconds from screaming. This is not going the way he planned it to. “No. Why- Why would I even like him?”
“You guys aren’t a thing? You gave him flowers?”
“Oh, no. No, no no no no.” Hongbin’s slaps his hands repeatedly against his cheeks. He hears Wonsik tell him to stop, quietly, but he bangs on them some more. He can’t believe this.
“Then why’s he--”
“The flowers are for you.” No turning back now. Out with it. He has to make Wonsik understand. “I asked him to hold them; they’re for you.”
“For me?” Wonsik softens, his face losing the scrunched look, and he blinks several times. “Wh- What? Why for me?”
“Did you really think I sat in your garage just to look at antique car parts? Do I look like that sort of person?” When Wonsik doesn’t respond, Hongbin adds, “I was there for you.” And mumbles, “I wanted to get to know you.”
“I thought- I thought you were dating Sanghyuk. You were always at the shop and talking to him, and then the other day-- And then he shows up with flowers tonight.”
“Not in a million years.” Hongbin feels powerful enough to crush an airbike between his hands. It’s now or never. He clears his throat. “So I was going to give you the flowers after the race. Now that the surprise is sort of ruined, do you want them?” Or should I get out of your sight in case I’ve totally read all of this wrong?
There’s a crack in the night air and a voice yells, louder than the rest. The words “start up” are more prominent than the rest, and Wonsik looks back to Hongbin with a grin. “I gotta go now, but I’d love that, okay?”
“I want to take you on a date. Would you love that, too?”
Slight pause -- “Yeah, I would. But only if Sanghyuk doesn’t come.” Wonsik walks forward to grab Hongbin’s hand. He tugs him along through the crowd. “I’ve had a rough day, but this definitely just turned things around.”
“Good.”
They return to Wonsik’s car, and Sanghyuk brightens up instantly. “Hand holding. My paid day off is a going to be a reality.” Wonsik doesn’t let Hongbin’s hand go until he gets in his car to drive it to the race line.
Sanghyuk and Hongbin meet Wonsik at the starting line (an uneven white line sprayed onto the pavement), and Hongbin squints at the car running beside Wonsik’s. It’s Taemin’s.
“Taemin thought the stars were a good idea.”
Hongbin peers over his shoulder to see Jongin standing there, pointing at Taemin’s car. It has a racing fin and under that fin are the stars Jongin talks of. “Oh. Those are….” Hongbin struggles to not make a face. The stars are orange on blue paint, and they appear messy, their edges smudged up.
“We argued over those, and they dried like that. We’re gonna have to fix them later.”
A shouting match back where they came has Sanghyuk’s attention, so Hongbin leans back a little into Jongin’s space. “I promised Wonsik a win.”
“I promised that to Taemin.”
Amid their laughter, Sanghyuk cuts in. “I guess someone will have to be disappointed.” He seems to be the ever-present voice of reality.
The man on the loud speaker comes back on asking if the drivers are ready, and the crowd turns to attention behind them, pressing in and jeering at the racers. Hongbin is more calm then he expected; he got the hard part over with -- his hand feels like Wonsik’s holding it still -- and this is just extra. He hopes for a win for Wonsik’s sake.
Wonsik’s engine revs loud as the countdown begins. The crowd screams the numbers down from five, and Hongbin feels his hands tighten with each count.
“Go!”
Tires spin, and they’re off.
“So you gave Sanghyuk that day off?”
“Had to.” Taekwoon scrunches his nose, typing data into his computer. “He was raving the whole weekend. You know he submitted a picture? He left it on my desk.”
Hakyeon tears his eyes away from the window. “A picture of what?”
“A blurry photo of Wonsik kissing that kid.”
“I guess the roses worked.”
Taekwoon leans back in his seat, fake leather whining under him. “I dropped by on Monday just to see what happened about the race, you know?” Hakyeon nods. “And they were making out on his car.”
“Oh. Ew.” Hakyeon looks back out the office window. “It was much more fun when the kid was falling all over the place.”
By “fun” Hakyeon most definitely means “interesting.” Taekwoon’s not sure how he feels. As long as he doesn’t walk in on anything he shouldn’t see, he thinks he’ll be okay. He thinks.
“So now I’m trying to meet Sanghyuk’s demands.”
“Good luck with that.” Hakyeon pauses. “They’re spraying each other outside. Revolting. I’m sure your dad’s going to tell them to knock it off.”
Taekwoon rolls his chair to the window, and sure enough his brother and the Syndrome boy are acting like they’re twelve, squirting water everywhere and confusing the cleaning droid. He tries not to smile -- really tries -- but when the boy slips on the concrete in a wild tumble, he can’t help it.
“Poor kid,” Hakyeon mutters.
“Oh, yes,” Taekwoon comments, watching as Wonsik hovers over the boy in such a close proximity, checking to make sure he’s okay. “Poor kid.” He chuckles and returns to his work.