[oneshot] A disastrous pas-de-deux. -- 2/2

[yakiseop]

“We need to talk. I know you’ve been ignoring my calls,” the girl now sounded anything but elegant; she sounded furious. “But you can’t ignore me forever.”

That would be a nice moment to unpack, thought Seungho, never fond of overhearing that kind of conversation. The problem, he found out as soon as he went to the bedroom and silently closed the door, was that it was virtually impossible to be anywhere in the apartment and not hear what was going on in the living room.

“…not about us anymore. You caused trouble to the whole team,” the girl was scolding Changsun, apparently. “And to your own career as a danseur as well, all over petty issues.”

“Who the hell are you to say I’m having petty issues?” Seungho could pretty much see Changsun’s infuriated face at that moment. “If I’m being such a bother, then tell everyone to kick me out! Just leave me alone at once!”

“You’re just like a spoiled child, Changsun! You get on my nerves like no one else!” the girl screamed back, and Seungho felt a weird pang of guilt by remembering he himself had said something similar to Changsun the night before. Yes, it had been a rather rude thing to say… “Kicking you out or not, this is not the matter here! You’re damaging everybody! You’re damaging the seniors, the director, you’re damaging me!”

“Oh, I’m damaging you?! I’m damaging your career as prima ballerina? What a pity,” was Changsun’s furious answer. “Go pick someone else to be your partner, then! After all, as you said, I’m childish, irresponsible, and like to destroy careers over petty issues on my free time! I’m sure that Kim whatever dude would be glad to be your partner this time, so why don’t you get the hell out of here and go ask him to assume the role?!”

Pregnant silent. Seungho had long forgotten he was supposed to be unpacking; he couldn’t help but to unconsciously pay attention. Later, he’d hate himself for being so creepy.

“Fuck you,” the girl muttered, her voice shaky and thin. “Fuck you, Changsun. You’re a loggerhead. You only think about yourself. You’ll be lucky if you find anyone to love you in your life, if you keep this attitude on,” he heard a noise. “I’m out of your case. You’ll be kicked out right into the corps de ballet, and you better have no hopes of ever being an étoile again. If you don’t get expelled for good, of course. Goodbye.”

Heavy steps, a door being slammed, and Seungho safely assumed she was out. He had no intention of getting out of the bedroom until it was safe - and then he remembered the pork.

“Shit,” he ran the fastest he could to the kitchen, desperate to save their lunch. The meat was going well, despite being slightly toasted on the side. The bell pepper was a tad bit more than toasted, but was still edible. Maybe the congee had gone a bit too soft.

“Lunch is rea-“ another door slammed; this time, the bedroom’s. Resigned, Seungho turned the oven off and set the table - the counter, actually - for two.

When he found himself at a loss of things to do before eating, he decided to call Changsun. His younger roommate was probably upset (and upset was a gross euphemism) but he had also worked since morning without eating a thing. Prioritising his roommate’s health, he bravely knocked on the door.

“Changsun,” he called softly. Then, deciding he was too young to treat Changsun like that, he opened the door. The younger one was on the bed, and the dirty laundry pile, previously so tall, was scattered on the floor as if someone had tripped over it. “Lunch is ready.”

“I’m not feeling well,” Changsun mumbled in response. Seungho decided not to insist.

“Okay. The pots will be on the oven for when you feel better,” he answered simply before closing the door and going back to the kitchen. Well, Seungho was famished, so he should just go and eat, but… he admitted he had cooked the lunch for both he and Changsun. Not having Changsun there to eat it was disappointing.

He shrugged it off and started filling his plate. The congee looked glorious… even if he ate congee everyday, he’d never get sick of it. Midway serving himself pork, Seungho heard the bedroom door be violently opened and halted still. What could it be? Changsun suddenly stormed into the kitchen, grabbed his plate and started to fill it to the brim with congee, all before Seungho could propaerly take in what was happening.

“If you’re not feeling well, you shouldn’t-“

“I’m perfectly fine,” Changsun cut it wryly, adding generous portions of pork to his already full plate. If Seungho hadn’t heard from Changsun himself that he wasn’t feeling well just some minutes ago, he would’ve chuckled at his voracity, but it just made him worry.

“Changsun…” but Changsun had already started to eat, shoving two, three spoonfuls of congee in his mouth before tearing off almost half of one of his pieces of pork with his teeth. It was slightly comical, and slightly disgusting too. Seungho sat down, frowning, wondering what he should do.

“I won’t ask,” he started cautiously. “But-“

“Just ask already,” was what Changsun said, to his surprise. The younger man stopped shoving food in for a moment. “If you say ‘I won’t ask, but I wonder if… etcetera’, it’s the same as asking, isn’t it? So just ask already.”

Changsun was indeed right, so Seungho was more direct. “Who was that girl?” he started to eat as well, appetite a bit affected by Changsun’s ferocity, but not entirely. “Was she really your friend?”

A moment of silence, and Seungho wondered if Changsun would actually answer. In the end, though, as soon as Changsun found himself with his mouth empty, he answered.

“That was Jihae,” he said simply. “An ex-friend. Ex-dance partner. Ex-girlfriend as well.”

Comprehension dawned upon Seungho. Everything made much more sense. Even though it still made little sense at all to him.

“I see,” Seungho nodded, tasting the pork. Ah, it was great! One couldn’t even taste the burnt part. “Why was she so pissed off at you?”

“Because I haven’t been going to the rehearsals,” was the answer. “And I’m the premier danseur. Was. I was the premier danseur. It’s the male main dancer in ballet. And she’s the prima ballerina, and me suddenly disappearing would obviously,” he drew quotation marks in the air. “damage her career.”

Seungho made a quiet ‘oh’, understanding a bit more. So it wasn’t only personal, it was also an academic matter. And Changsun ignoring her phone calls would mean…

“Did you break up in bad terms?”

Changsun looked down to his plate, seeming to suddenly lose energies.

“I’d rather not answer that question,” he said before practically swallowing what was left of food in his plate and filling it all over again.

Instead of asking another question, then, Seungho smiled and said, “you seem to have liked my cooking.”

Changsun scoffed, his mouth ridiculously full.

“mfmphmhf,” he said. Then, upon Seungho’s questioning look, he swallowed and repeated, “not specially.”

Seungho rolled his eyes and went back to eating, sure that his food was way better than the stuff Changsun had been eating when he moved in.

Then, in that same afternoon, after taking a much desired shower and finally changing into clean clothes, Seungho went out to do laundry while Changsun stayed and dusted the furniture. In his trip to the laundry shop, he found Byunghee and Sanghyun doing homework at a nearby café. Their eyes had almost jumped out of the sockets when they saw the huge bag of dirty clothing.

“Are you doing late spring cleaning?” Sanghyun asked humorously.

“No, we’re just cleaning. Were it spring cleaning, you wouldn’t see me until next week,” Seungho sighed tiredly.

“Are you doing everything on your own?” Byunghee frowned. “Did you kick your roommate out or something?”

“No. Changsun is actually helping a lot,” Seungho brushed Byunghee’s suspicion off. “I wouldn’t be able to pull half of this off if he weren’t. But he’s doing part of the work.”

“Ooh… so he isn’t as bad as he seemed,” Byunghee un-furrowed his brows and, instead, nodded in approval, crossing his arms. “Are you two in peace now?”

“… not exactly…” Seungho remembered the uncountable quarrels. “But we aren’t really fighting anymore. And yeah, he’s nice. Kind of. Anyway,” he pulled the monstrous bag from the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “I have to go now or I won’t be able to wash everything. Bye guys.”

“You go, Santa Claus,” Sanghyun bid him goodbye, and Byunghee almost fell down from the chair laughing at the comment. Trying his best not to laugh, Seungho glared weakly at Sanghyun and went away, shaking his head.

It took him till sunset to wash everything, and it was dark when he finally dragged a bag of now clean clothes home. Climbing up the stairs was painful, and, when he finally went in, he just dropped the bag on the floor and fell on it, deciding to sleep right there, at that very moment.

But he knew his plans weren’t sensible, so he slowly got up. In the process, he saw that Changsun was watching ballet on the TV: he didn’t know what ballet it was - Seungho knew almost nothing about ballet - but there were women in white dancing in a forest.

“Swan Lake?” he asked, sitting on the floor right beside Changsun’s crossed legs. Changsun laughed soundly.

“’Swan Lake’. It’s the Nutcracker! Look, it’s the snow corps de ballet,” he pointed at the TV, as if it explained everything. Seungho just shrugged. “It’ll be winter soon. And, of course, the winter show has to be the Nutcracker.”

“Ah,” Seungho understood. “So this will be your seniors’ project for this semester?”

Changsun nodded, watching the dance attentively. Seungho watched it as well. The song was nice… ballet was interesting. It was pretty to watch, even though it could be a little boring.

“You were going to be this guy?” Seungho asked when the Nutcracker-turned-prince went into the scene with the main girl, wearing a red-and-golden short coat and white ballet tights.

“Yeah,” Changsun’s answer was somewhat melancholic. “Although I’m almost too old for the role.”

“But you’re short, so it’d be okay,” Seungho stated, receiving as response a kick on his shoulder. He shouted a pained ‘ouch’ that made Changsun answer, ‘you asked for it’. “And now, what will you be? Snowflake?”

“The snow corps de ballet is entirely composed of women, Seungho,” Changsun shook his head at his roommate’s ignorance. “And well, I’ll be nothing. They probably kicked me out of the show already. I’ve been absent for over a month now. Remember the senior of mine we met at the grocery store?” Seungho nodded. “He told me that my substitute knows all my parts by heart already. In case you don’t get it, this means they don’t need me anymore.”

Seungho nodded in silence, finding the story somewhat depressing. So Changsun had been skipping classes for so long that they had given up on him… it had probably something to do with his girlfriend. Jihae, right? Jihee? He didn’t remember it, but that wasn’t important. If he were to think, she could have been the reason why Changsun went through over a month without doing chores or going to classes. … was Changsun that much sensitive? Or maybe it had been really awful, such as… Seungho didn’t really know. He still knew almost nothing about the younger man.

“You really like it, don’t you?” he commented, watching the dancers move on the very tip of their feet as if they weighted naught. “Ballet.”

“Why would I? It’s stupid,” Changsun sourly rejoined. “Ballet dancers have to constantly watch their weight and practice for at least four hours a day, and it hurts. Ballerinas are bitchy. Danseurs are stuck-up. The costumes are itchy and uncomfortable.”

“And you love it nevertheless,” Seungho sustained, and Changsun immediately silenced. In the TV, the curtains were going down over the snowy scenario.

“I do,” quietly, the younger man admitted. A discreet smile curved Seungho’s lips. “I love ballet.”

A warm quietude fell upon them as the following act started, and Seungho was happy to recognize that moment in the plot; the Nutcracker-turned-prince and the female lead were in a cave or something similar. The angels were greeting them. Why were there angels in a cave was something Seungho had never learned.

“If you went back to rehearsing,” Seungho resumed their previous chat. “Would you be one of the angels?”

For some reason, Changsun laughed. Seungho glanced at him quizzically. “Don’t tell me the angels are all women as well?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Changsun was still laughing, once again shaking his head. “If I went back - and if they took me back - I’d probably be one of the Spanish hot chocolate guys. Maybe Chinese tea. Since,” he added bitterly. “I’m apparently so short.”

Seungho chuckled, completely at guilt, which earned him another kick on the shoulder.

“These seem to be fun,” he remarked casually. “Why don’t you go back?”

“Seungho,” Changsun rolled his eyes, shifting his legs so he’d be lying down along the couch’s extension. “I told you already. They won’t take me back.”

“You were the lead dancer, right?” Seungho reasoned. “You’re probably good. I think they’d be glad to have you back.”

“But I haven’t practiced in months,” was Changsun’s response. “I’m completely out of shape. I gained weight. I’d have to learn a completely different choreography and drag the whole thing behind. It’s better to let it be, really.”

“But it’s okay for you to be like this?” Seungho’s comeback. “To just watch it from afar? Specially knowing you could be there, dancing as well.”

The quietness then made was fairly dense. Perhaps Seungho was pushing him too far, but his situation was pitiful. Changsun clearly adored ballet and wanted to redeem himself, but didn’t have the nerve to do so. He couldn’t stay like that forever, or he’d be stuck in a cycle of everlasting unhappiness - that was Seungho’s theory. Just like he had been for a month or so already.

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” was the only thing Changsun said before abruptly walking away. He didn’t even turn the TV off, as Seungho noticed right after hearing the sound of the closing bedroom door. This time, there were men and women dancing together, clad in red and black and swirling in extravagant steps. Those were probably the Spanish hot chocolate team… he decided to lie down on the couch to watch. If Changsun were to join the show, he’d probably be dancing the same dance as those men…

Seungho woke up the next morning with a sore back and motionless hand, having apparently fallen sleep on the couch. The TV in front of him shone black, indicating that whatever it had been on before was on no longer. Ah, the Nutcracker, had it been not? Seungho stretched his limbs drowsily, trying to regain full control over his own body. So, to start the day, he should probably cook breakfast… stumbling subtly to the left, he made his way off the couch and toward the bedroom in order to check if his roommate was already awake.

He found Changsun on the bed, not asleep but lay down nonetheless. The younger man seemed to have been in deep thought, for he moved nothing but his eyes when Seungho went in, shifting them to the side to sight his roommate.

“’morning,” Changsun greeted unenthusiastically. “Something’s up?”

“No. G’morning,” Seungho greeted back while sitting on the border of Changsun’s mattress. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“’dunno. Not hungry,” the younger one shrugged. Seungho clicked his tongue.

“Why are you upset again~?” saying that in a high-pitched voice, Seungho pinched Changsun’s cheeks and moved them in circles, making him yelp in pain and kick the air blindly, trying to free himself. Too bad for him, since Seungho only let him go when he felt like doing so. “Did your hyung do something that made you sad~?”

“Hyung? Which hyung? I have no idea of what you’re talking about,” Changsun feigned ignorance, looking at the ceiling with a clueless face. “And stop with that voice, it’s creepy.”

Seungho shrugged and switched back to his normal voice. “Why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking,” Changsun didn’t face Seungho. “I’m just thinking,” he sighed deeply and, before Seungho could make any joke about how rare it was, he added. “Do you really think I should go back?”

So that’s what it was about. Seungho stretched his arms, letting his joints crack, before simply saying, “Yes.”

“I want to go back,” Changsun reasoned, sitting up so suddenly that he startled Seungho. “But I don’t want Jihae to think she convinced me to do it. I don’t want her to think she still owns me.”

“Well,” as the last part sounded a bit too intimate and not meant for Seungho to hear, he politely ignored it. “I think you can’t do much about that.”

“Wow. Thank you, Seungho,” Changsun deadpanned sarcastically.

“You really can’t, can you? Telling her that you didn’t go back because of her would only make everything worse,” the older man pointed out. “Just hold onto the fact that you didn’t, you’ll be fine. She shouldn’t matter anymore.”

Changsun did nothing but stare at the wall. Seungho assumed he was digesting the advice, which was probably a right guess, given that the younger one was jumping out of the bed in the next second.

“Breakfast! Let’s eat breakfast,” he energetically called Seungho, striving out of the bedroom. “After washing the dishes I’ll go talk with sunbaenim. I don’t give a damn about her opinion, that’s right. Who’s Jihae anyway? Let’s use a lot of plates for breakfast.”

Seungho chose to see that as progress and not just as a freaky mood flip.

Lunch time came sooner than Seungho expected, and Changsun hadn’t come back yet. Worried, uncommonly restless and not in the mood to eat alone, Seungho decided to search for Byunghee and Sanghyun in the cafeteria, where they’d probably be at that hour. There they were, but with Sanghyun’s roommate, Chulyong, tagging along as well. Seungho didn’t mind. He hadn’t talked to the kid much since they first met, but he at least knew the younger man was friendly.

“Oh? It’s rare to see you around,” Byunghee said when he saw Seungho, greeting his friend with a smile. “Did you fight with your roommate or something?”

“No, he’s out to take care of some stuff,” Seungho brushed it off with a hand gesture. “We don’t fight anymore, I told you.”

“I never thought you’d end up as friends,” Sanghyun shook his head in a prophetic way. “But I guess it’s better this way.”

“We’re not exactly friends,” Seungho corrected sincerely. Byunghee frowned. “I mean, it’s not that we’re strangers to each other, but it’s different.”

“Of course it’s different. We’re your friends and we’re obviously more awesome than him,” Byunghee said simply, and the other three could only laugh. “Then, what brings you here? I thought you had renounced cafeteria food.”

“I did. But I’m bored,” Seungho confessed, pouting. “I’ve finished work, so I came here to find you guys.”

“Speaking about work! I’ve decided to look for a part-time job,” Chulyong suddenly spoke up, eating the rice with great appetite. He kind of reminded Seungho of Changsun eating the congee, just less furious. “Do any of you want to go with me?”

“Ah!” Seungho raised his hand. Getting a part-time job was a great idea. He had to recover from the state of poverty he was at! Why hadn’t he thought about that before? “I’m up to it. I really could use some extra money right now.”

“Is it okay? You have a scholarship, don’t you?” Byunghee pointed out. “Do the rules say anything about working?”

“No, mine is for students involved with outer activities. As long as I have time for the plays and keep a decent PGA, I’m fine,” Seungho said, having read those rules at least fifty times before applying to it half a year before.

“Speaking of the plays, what happened to them?” Sanghyun asked over his food, drinking a sip of his ice tea. “It’s been a long time since the last one. Weren’t you supposed to have a winter show? People from dance and music are having theirs on the same week.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of the winter show from dance,” Seungho nodded, remembering what Changsun had told him. Damn, where was Changsun at? It was so late already! “So, Chulyong, when are you going to search for jobs?”

“I was thinking about going this afternoon. I finished most of the stuff I have to do for the end-of-term exams so I’ll take this chance,” the younger one said. “Is it okay for you, hyung?”

“Definitely,” Seungho wondered if Changsun was rehearsing his new part already or something similar. “The sooner, the better.”

After finally having lunch (leftover congee - he again thought of Changsun), taking a shower and fixing himself to look the best he could without seeming too over-the-top, Seungho grabbed his documents and went with Chulyong on their impromptu job hunt. Chulyong himself was also looking impeccable, but it was hard to tell if this was causing any kind of impression on the people they talked to.

“As expected, it’s not easy at all,” Chulyong wisely remarked as they went out of the untempth place they tried. So far they had gone through almost all sorts of places; clothing, fast food, bookstore, convenience, toys… the streets were packed, which was understandable, given it was Sunday. “Ah, that one. Let’s try that one.”

It was a patisserie. There they went to try once more; this time, the manager made them wait a little before letting they in so they could talk. While waiting, Seungho and Chulyong distracted themselves by looking at the cakes for display in the counter, each one carefully decorated with complicated swirls and glacé flowers. Seungho got hungry just from looking at them. That chocolate one with fruits on the top looked so good… did Changsun like chocolate cake? Seungho wondered if he should buy it. But what had Changsun liking cake to do with anything? If he didn’t, Seungho could have the cake to himself anyway. Who wouldn’t like chocolate cake, anyway?

He was torn off his thoughts as the manager called them in.

It was already night when he went back to the apartment; and who did he find at the door, about to go in?

“You!” Seungho pointed at Changsun accusingly. “Where have you been? You didn’t even show up for lunch!”

“Yah, that’s my line! Where have you been?” Changsun pointed back, outraged. “I didn’t even know you’d be out!”

“I was job-hunting,” Seungho justified, opening the door for both of them, letting Changsun go in first. “And I actually got a job, so congratulate me.”

“You did? Congratulations!” Changsun sincerely congratulated, his eyes wide. “Wow, you’re fast. You just decided ‘today I’ll get a job’ and got it. Did you blackmail someone?”

“A gadget shop just happened to be hiring, and I know a lot about gadgets. It was dumb luck,” Seungho shrugged. He was about to ask how had it gone with the ballet thing, but he hesitated for a moment. Was it a tactless question to ask? During this second of hesitation, Changsun announced, “I got cake”.

“You did?” Seungho blinked at the coincidence. Changsun raised a cake box in the air, and Seungho was surprised to identify the logotype on the box. “I went to this shop today! They hired the friend that was with me. How come I didn’t meet you there?”

“Well, I don’t know! I went there just before sunset,” Changsun threw his bag on the couch carelessly and went to the kitchen. “I came here after lunchtime but you were out already, I guess, so I decided to take a walk.”

“I went there around that time too. And I also came here before going,” Seungho shook his head. “Our timing is completely off.”

“It is. But this doesn’t matter. Let’s eat!” From the box, Changsun took out the chocolate cake Seungho had been eyeing sooner that day, and the older man could have laughed at the ridiculous coincidence, but he didn’t, because it’d be rather strange to laugh at a cake. “This looks awesome. Do you even like chocolate cakes with fruits?”

“I love chocolate cakes with fruits,” even though he had never eaten one.

“Excelent. Let’s eat it all,” Changsun prompted, grabbing the plates from the cupboard. “I won’t have another chance to pig out on cake anytime soon.”

Seungho frowned at that. He had a feeling… “What do you mean?”

When Changsun turned around, he was grinning. Seungho immediately understood. “They accepted you back didn’t they?”

“They did!” Changsun exclaimed excitedly, making a small victory dance. He was glowing in happiness. “I was re-casted both as one of the hot chocolate performers and one of the soldiers. There’s an influenza outbreak going on among the juniors, and two or three of the soldiers fell ill, as well as one of the substitutes. Sunbaenim was so happy to have me back! A lot of cast members are getting sick this year, the seniors are having a hard time.”

“I’m glad everything went well,” Seungho sincerely said, although he had no actual reason to be glad. Benevolence?

“Well, yes, most of it went well,” Changsun made a face. “I still have to partner with Jihae for the Spanish dance. And we had a fight today, again. I guess that’s all we’ll ever have from now on.”

Seungho frowned. “You still have to partner with her, even though you’re not the main dancer anymore?”

“Clara - Jihae’s role - dances with one of the hot chocolate performers. In this case, me,” he pointed his finger unhappily at himself. “Sunbaenim insists that we have the best chemistry as a duo. But well, whatever. It doesn’t matter if it’s Jihae or anyone else.”

Seungho smiled fondly at the stubbornness Changsun was displaying, finding that an adorable way to cope with that situation. Despite thinking ‘adorable’ wasn’t the right way to put it, that’s it. He widened his eyes at the size of the slices Changsun was cutting. He definitely was taking ‘pig out’ seriously.

“When will the show be?” Seungho asked while tasting his first piece of cake. He probably should go watch it, right? Changsun could use some support.

“Erm,” Changsun bit his lip. “Next Sunday…”

Seungho stared at him with very expressive eyes.

“I know! I know! No need to say anything!” Changsun censored him before he could even say a word. “I’ll train every day, the whole day, so don’t even wait for me to have lunch. Actually, don’t expect to see me for the whole day. Isn’t it nice?” he unexpectedly added. “You can pretend I don’t even live with you for the next week.”

The answer to that was a very well aimed kick on Changsun’s shins that made the boy yelp in pain and almost drop his fork.

“Are you trying to cripple me?!”

“You know well that I don’t hate you, you idiot,” Seungho didn’t even look at his roommate to say that. “I was even thinking about going to the show to watch you and all. Tsk.”

Small moment of silence. When Changsun spoke, his voice was timid, “Well, now that you said that, you better go,” he tried to sound bossy, but, when Seungho looked at his face, his cheeks were deeply red. “Or I won’t do any chores anymore. You’ll have to clean the house yourself.”

“Okay, okay,” Seungho smiled to his cake, amused by Changsun’s attitude. Or simply amused by Changsun.

Changsun wasn’t kidding when he said he’d train the whole day; from Monday on, he was off before Seungho was even up, and never back before Seungho was asleep. Seungho didn’t feel lonely, and in fact felt much more comfortable with the place when alone, but he also wondered if that was healthy. It was too radical, going from doing absolutely nothing for a month to training and training nonstop. He hoped Changsun would last till the show, despite it seeming probable for him not to make it.

A ring of the room’s doorbell was the answer to Seungho’s concealed anxiety. At the doorframe was Jihae, in her training clothes, supporting with her shoulder the body of a very pale Changsun.

“Good evening,” Seungho greeted quickly while helping her to free her shoulder from Changsun’s weight. Changsun looked rather dead, and this isn’t even a metaphor; Seungho stood still for a moment to check if he was still breathing. “What happened to him?”

“He’s hurt. Well, you know Changsun,” Jihae glared at the said man disapprovingly. “Practiced too much, ate too little, and lost his balance today during practice. It’s his ankle. It’s not broken or anything, but it’s clear he won’t dance.”

It took Seungho a second to comprehend, and then to comprehend again; despite everything, Changsun wouldn’t be able to take part in the show. He cringed, holding Changsun by his waist so the younger man wouldn’t fall down.

“Seungho,” Seungho heard his roommate’s weak voice whine characteristically and jumped, startled. “You’re hurting me,” he then let go Changsun’s waist and threw the other man’s arm over his shoulder instead.

“Well, I’ll be off now,” Jihae stepped out of the room. “Goodbye.”

“Thank you for bringing him here, Jihae sshi,” Seungho bowed - tried to, at least. “Goodbye.”

Jihae went out, closing the door herself, which Seungho was thankful for. Changsun assured him he could walk when Seungho asked, but he was clearly lying, since he shouted in pain the moment his foot touched the floor. Changsun was being so stubborn about walking that they had a quarrel, even though the younger one was almost too weak to talk, and Seungho closed the case by lifting Changsun in bridal style and ignoring his complains until they were in the bedroom.

“You’ve pushed yourself harder than you should already,” Seungho scolded as he dumped the younger on the bed. “You should have asked for me to carry you, Changsun. You’re injured.”

“Shut up! How could I ask for something like that?! Do I have no pride at all?” Changsun tried to shout, but all that came out was a thin thread of voice.

Seungho only rolled his eyes at him. “I’m going to cook dinner. If you feel unwell, shout for me. I don’t want dead people in the bedroom.”

“Okay. Okay then,” even involuntarily, Changsun was already sulking. Seungho decided to let it be and did as he had planned to: went to the kitchen and started preparing dinner.

There wasn’t much more for him to work with than meat, kimchi and rice, so he had decided to set for those until he stopped for a bit and started reflecting on the situation. With everything considered and its probable consequences - at that moment, Changsun was still in denial, which meant he still had to fully understand the situation - Seungho reached the conclusion that he should at least make a little effort to cheer up Changsun. A little effort like cooking his favourite food, for example; it would do Seungho no harm, unless said favourite food was lobster or something similar. Should he try? But they didn’t have many ingredients, and Seungho was not the slightest bit inclined to taking a trip to the grocery shop at that hour… he then heard the doorbell again, and rushed to answer it before Changsun even had the idea to do it instead. It was Jihae again; this time, she had a large navy blue duffel bag in hands.

“He forgot his bag. Changsun,” she said almost timidly, practically pushing the bag onto Seungho’s hands. He blinked.

“Um, thank you,” and he had an idea. “Erm, Jihae sshi… do you happen to know what Changsun’s favourite food is?”

At first, Jihae looked at him questioningly. Then, she looked away, apparently deep in thoughts.

“I wish I knew,” she shook her head, with then a small smile on her lips. “Anything as long as it’s tasty, I believe. Or rather, his favourite dish always changes.”

Seungho hummed in comprehension, nodding. “Something light would do, then…”

“Given that he’s weak, congee would be a nice choice,” Jihae suggested, and Seungho realized she was right. But congee again? As expected, it was their odd timing’s doing. Completely out of sync.

“I see. Thank you, Jihae sshi,” Seungho bowed properly this time, and Jihae bowed back. Before Seungho could close the door, however, Jihae reached for the door and held it in place.

“Please… take care of Changsun, Seungho sshi,” was what she asked, voice as thin and shy as air. “And please don’t think I hate him. That’s not it.”

Seungho smiled. “Don’t worry. I understand the situation between the two of you,” he didn’t, but he felt that pretending was the best at the moment. “I’ll take good care of him.”’

Still not facing Seungho, Jihae nodded and bowed again, going away without saying one more word.

Out of healthy alternatives, Seungho put the ingredients back in its respective places and pulled the congee leftovers from the fridge. It wasn’t enough… unhappy with that outcome, Seungho started cooking more rice. After that, he went to check Changsun’s condition, not surprised to see his younger roommate awake despite being out of energy altogether.

“Guess what you’ll eat for dinner tonight,” Seungho sat beside the bed. “Congee.”

Instead of saying something like ‘again?’ or ‘do we only have congee in the fridge?’, which were Seungho’s expectations, Changsun pouted emotionless, his eyes focused in an inexistent spot on the wall. So he had finally understood it, was what Seungho concluded. Slowly, the younger’s face morphed from blankness to strongly restrained sorrow.

“You know what?” Seungho started. “I think the Nutcracker has been overdone. I mean, as you say, everyone thinks of it when they plan a winter show. It’s a cliché already. That’s why I like the summer shows better,” he had no idea what he was talking about. “What will they use for the summer show, I wonder? Maybe Cinderella?” he didn’t even know if Cinderella was a ballet. “Or maybe they’ll choose Swan Lake for next year’s winter. By then, you’ll be the main dancer again, so you’ll have a great role. Maybe you could start rehearsing soon. After you get better, obviously. But they might choose another play anyway.”

If Seungho’s rant had any effect on Changsun, it wasn’t visible, and soon Seungho ran out of ideas of what to say, so they fell in awkward, heavy silence. If anything, Seungho felt that he had made things worse, so he did the best he could do at the moment. He climbed on the bed, inched closer to Changsun and opened his arms. When the younger saw him with his arms opened, he managed to give a small laugh.

“What are you doing?” Changsun asked, his voice low.

“Well, what does it look like? I’m offering you a hug,” Seungho raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s painful to look at how much you want to cry, so there. Shoulder.”

Changsun hesitated, as Seungho guessed he would. God, why was Changsun so stubborn? But then Changsun slowly moved forward, letting his older roommate’s arms embrace his shoulders, burying his head in Seungho’s shoulder to the point it tickled. Knowing that the younger needed that kind of thing at the moment, Seungho hugged him as tight as he could without being creepy - despite already feeling quite creepy for even offering a hug in the first place. The whole situation was sort of off-putting, in fact, mainly for the fact Seungho didn’t feel as weird as he should for hugging someone he didn’t know that well.

A long moment of silent hugging went by, and no reaction came from Changsun. Was he still holding back even then? Seungho tried to be angry, but for some reason, for some weird reason, he instead felt some kind of tender heat inside his chest. He cleared his throat discreetly, getting rid of the feeling.

“Go on,” Seungho encouraged him. “Let it out.”

The arms Changsun had around Seungho’s waist tightened almost unnoticeably. Seungho swallowed nervously. What was he doing?

“It’s weird, but,” Changsun chuckled, accidentally tickling Seungho’s neck again. “I don’t feel like crying anymore.”

Something between them was terribly odd.

“And then?” Byunghee urged with, as analytic as a psychologist.

“And then nothing. Dinner got ready, we ate it, he ate almost the whole pot and went to sleep,” Seungho finished his narrative, organizing the external hard disks on the shelf for the third time that week. Yoseob, his tiny and energetic workmate, kept messing them up and not putting them in order again. “For God’s sake, do never tell this story to anyone else. I’m only telling you because I trust you to take it seriously.”

“I’m taking it seriously,” Byunghee nodded very seriously. When he was in the mood, he was Seungho’s most serious friend. “I’ll mock you about it after we get this sorted out. So, you don’t think the two of you are friends, but youre close enough to be friends, and now you’re even more than ‘close enough’.”

“It’s not like we’re more than ‘close enough’,” Seungho corrected him, now organizing the nearest graphics cards. “I just-did things without thinking first. But it was a mutual moment of weirdness. But we aren’t even that close.”

“You’re not close, but you cooked dinner for him. Twice, for what I heard from you,” Byunghee pointed out, sounding concentrated rather than accusing. “Also, you started cleaning the room out of the blue and got him involved, and you two started cleaning together.”

“And I gave him advice,” Seungho remembered, looking at the Quadro 2000 in his hands absent-mindedly.

“What kind of advice?” Byunghee frowned.

“Regarding his ex-girlfriend, and stuff he wanted to do,” Seungho confessed, putting the card among its equals.

Byunghee looked away reflectively, and Seungho felt gratefulness for having someone like him to depend on. But, in the end, Byunghee’s veredict was, “You two seem pretty close to me, Seungho. I mean, it’s not really your style, but to me you seem to be friends. Maybe you’re just a different kind of friends.”

Seungho sighed, letting his forehead touch the glass of the counter. “That was what I thought before,” he mumbled.

“So it’s not like that anymore?” Byunghee looked very confused.

“I don’t really know,” and Seungho was also confused.

A moment of confused silence.

“Well, I have classes soon,” was what Byunghee announced, raising his bag from the floor and throwing it over his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll work this out. If not, call me, I solemnly promise to remain serious until we solve this.”

“Thank you,” Seungho sincerely said, and they high-fived before Byunghee went out. When he did, Seungho looked around for anything that needed organizing and found his other workmate, a quiet Japanese boy named Shige that spent the whole day studying from enormous books, looking at him analytically. “May I help you?”

Shige merely shook his head and went back to his book.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream~,” Yoseob sang loudly, swirling around the shop and using a pen as a make-do microphone. “I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so a familiar gleam~”

Seungho wondered if Chulyong was doing well in his job.

There are some things you don’t expect to happen at the moment you open a door to your dorm room. Among these things are finding the living room to be on fire, finding out you opened the door to the wrong room, find a living tiger on your couch and spot your roommate and his ex-girlfriend, who had broken up in bad terms, kissing right before your eyes. For the best or for the worse, Seungho only witnessed the latter. Also for the best or for the worse, both of them were startled by the sound of the door and parted away almost immediately, facing Seungho in shock. Seungho blinked.

“Good evening,” he greeted politely, out of any other kind of reaction.

Jihae mumbled something that could be an answer, but it was unintelligible. She then glanced at Changsun quickly and made a French leave, almost bumping on Seungho in her way out. Changsun, who was starting to realize the situation he was at, scratched his shoulder in a gesture of discomfort.

“Well,” he smartly said.

“Did you already have dinner?” Seungho had more urgent matters in mind. “I’m so hungry I could eat a buffalo.”

“Um, I ate some of the congee that we had left,” Changsun talked to Seungho’s back, given that the older was already making his way towards the kitchen. He hummed absent-mindedly while going through the bags of chips he had bought the other day. Somehow, he didn’t feel like cooking. “So-“

“You left books on the couch,” Seungho pointed out. Then, he frowned. “What were you using books for?”

“Studying?” Changsun answered. “There are some subjects I haven’t failed yet. I’m studying for the tests.”

“Huh. You’re all gone back to normal now then,” Seungho smiled cordially while examining the chips. “Good luck with your tests. Don’t overdo it. Ah, I have stuff to read too…”

And he took his dinner to the bedroom, where he planned to read about Foucault and love it, for the sake of his academic merit.

In fact, Seungho realized that, now that he had a job, he had less time to study than before; if his PGA dropped, he could even lose his small, but necessary scholarship. Thus, he stopped cooking, to save time, and dedicated all his free time to studying. When he wasn’t in classes, he was at work; when he wasn’t at work, he was studying. He politely refused Changsun’s invitation to watch the ballet winter show, confessing that he wasn’t much of a fan of ballet, and didn’t resume his discussion with Byunghee, pretending it hadn’t ever existed. It didn’t matter anymore, if he were to be sincere to himself. Perhaps it had never mattered.

The only people he talked to in that period of time pre-finals were his workmates, so he technically talked to no one, since Yoseob usually did all the talk and Shige did no talk at all. Yoseob said he probably didn’t know Korean. Seungho found it unlikely, or else he wouldn’t have been able to keep his job as a cashier.

“But the finals are being harsh on us, aren’t they?” Yoseob majored in business at the same university as Seungho. “I haven’t got proper sleep in days, I feel like I’m about to collapse. You haven’t gotten any sleep lately either, had you? You have these huge shadows under your eyes.”

“I think I’ve always had those,” Seungho said simply, admiring the respectable amount of headphones they had for sale.

“Seriously? I see,” Yoseob took a look at his face from very close, invading Seungho’s personal space. Seungho pretended to have spotted dirt on one of the earphones just so he could back off. “You seem to be in a bad mood lately, actually. How to put it? It’s like you have a black fog hovering over your head.”

Seungho chuckled at the anime-like description. “Maybe I’ve always had this too.”

He grew comfortable with his own pace in few days. It was like being back to one’s own bed after sleeping in hotels for a long time; he remembered how it was like when he lived alone, when all he cleaned once in a week, only cooked when he felt like it and didn’t have to talk to anyone. It changed slightly after a week or so, when Changsun started interrupting Seungho’s studies to make questions about sociology and history of art, apparently two of his weak spots, but it wasn’t that bad. Seungho would answer his questions, Changsun would show comprehension and both would fall back into cordial silence.

Then, there was one day Seungho came back to an unfamiliar smell of burnt spices, only to find Changsun in the kitchen, fighting with three different pans that exhaled three different kinds of steam. Seungho couldn’t help it. He started laughing. The sight of his younger roommate among all that steam, going from a side of the oven to the other like some kind of mad scientist, was too delightful for him to stay serious. When Changsun turned around, he had sauce and olive oil on his face, and also a very much bright smile.

“What? Why are you laughing?!” he was trying to sound outraged, but he was still smiling, ad eventually started laughing too. “Yah! Why are you laughing?! Is anything about this funny at all?”

Seungho nodded, still laughing jovially, and instinctively pulled the younger boy in a hug. He didn’t think about what he was doing, again, didn’t consider causes and consequences; he just felt like hugging Changsun, for he missed him for some reason. It made no sense… it made no sense at all. But as long as Changsun hugged him back, it’d all be alright.

“Even though you helped me and gave me advice,” Changsun was giving his explanation of why he had tried to cook dinner while the two had a taste of his slightly burnt, unnameable meal. “and cooked for me, I never really did anything for you, so I thought you were angry at me because of that. So I gave it a try. But cooking is way harder than it seems.”

“Oh you,” Seungho shook his head, finding the food yummy regardless of any accidents. “Why would I hate you? You didn’t have to go so far. You really are a master at overdoing.”

“It’s not overdoing! I didn’t want you to hate me, Seungho, try to understand me,” Changsun pouted, toying with the rice on his plate. Seungho clicked his tongue.

“Why are you so adamant about me hating you?” he inquired straightforwardly.

Changsun shifted on his seat slightly. “Because your opinion matters to me,” he answered, looking at anywhere else but Seungho. “I want you to like me. I want you to like me so much that you won’t be angry even if I do something stupid. I mean, it’d be okay to be angry for a while, but I don’t want you to start hating me. I don’t want you to grow apart from me.”

Seungho took some seconds to absorb what Changsun had said; the latter had then cheeks blushed in a deep carmine shade. Seungho felt his lips grin on they own, and it was annoying, but he couldn’t help it at all. “It’d be impossible for me to hate you at this point,” he said, the words coming from the hidden bottom of his heart. “You’re everything I hate in a person, you know. You’re way too headstrong, you don’t stand up for yourself, you sulk too much and you get angry at the smallest things. And still, I can’t hate you for any of that. If anything, I find these traits adorable, when it’s you,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “And now I’m talking too much.”

“No, no, I know how it is. I hate people that boss other people around, and also people who always act cool, but I like these things in you,” Changsun confessed, turning the dinner chat in some kind of important conversation. “I never met someone like you before.”

“And what about Jihae?” Seungho shot merciless. He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about the happening, and it’d be an even bigger lie if he said that it didn’t bother him.

“That day-“ Changsun started right away, but paused, as if picking his words carefully. “I was confused that day. Jihae came here to see if I was okay. You know, I spent over a month hung up on her after we broke up,” he made a face. “I have liked Jihae so much for such a long time, and then suddenly… you remember when you jumped on the bed and broke a thing? That was a picture of Jihae I used to have on my bedside table,” Seungho made an understanding ‘oh’ sound. So that had been the matter. Thinking back, he could understand why Changsun had been so angry. “I had grown used to like only her, but… I… suddenly, it started fading away.”

At that point, Changsun faced Seungho fully, glances suddenly meeting with a weird strength. Seungho had inferred something, but…

“So it was like that,” he said simply, too shy to confirm his suspicions. He’d merely pretend he had understood.

“Yes,” Changsun nodded, certain that Seungho had in fact understood. Or was he pretending too? “I might still become confused sometimes, but for now… I want you to like me a lot.”

Seungho was trying hard to move his lips, but they were back at grinning in their own. He should act cool. He wanted to act cool to tease Changsun, but he couldn’t.

“Tsk, if you want me to like you so much,” controlled voice! He did it! “You have to like me bunches first.”

“Yah! You want me to like you even more?!” Changsun exclaimed angrily, kicking Seungho’s shins and smiling like a moron. “You’re a greedy one, aren’t you?”

Seungho kicked him back and finished his dinner, ruffled his beloved roommate’s hair before saying, “I’ll wash the dishes tonight.”