take me far (leave me reckless) [2/2]
They go out to a movie on the last Saturday of the month. Minseok buys the tickets and Baekhyun buys the overpriced popcorn. They browse the posters of upcoming features as they wait and Baekhyun gives brief synopsizes of the ones he’s seen the trailers to.
They walk into their theatre just as the commercials begin, shuffling to their seats at the far end of a row near the back. Minseok fidgets in his seat until he’s comfortable. When Baekhyun nudges the popcorn tub in his direction, Minseok picks its clear cover from the plastic bag on the ground by their feet and has him pour him some.
Theirs is an action movie with mindless violence, robots, jaded heroes, a city that turns to rubble before it’s saved. It’s enjoyable enough -a formula that’s been done and done again- but the special effects are shiny and distracting, and the explosions so loud they startle him whenever he relaxes. Baekhyun snickers at him every time.
Baekhyun’s commentary runs through the whole film, pointing out plot holes and making suggestions to characters that can’t hear him. He leans his head against the space between their adjacent seats, his mouth close to Minseok’s ear so as not to disturb anyone else. His breath, damp and warm, tickles Minseok’s neck and he has to shift slightly away.
Walking out of the movie hall, Baekhyun asks “Did you like it?”
“I don’t know. You practically talked over all the dialogue so I’m not quite sure what even happened.” Minseok crosses his arms, gives him a levelled stare.
“I did not!” Baekhyun squawks, pushing Minseok’s arm lightly. Minseok pushes back, a little bit harder.
“You could have told me if I was annoying you. I’ve been told I don’t know when to shut up.” Baekhyun says it flippantly as he turns to the trash cans and throws out the empty popcorn container, but it still comes out as not very flippant at all.
“I’m not surprised,” Minseok says. He adds, “I would have if you did, annoy me I mean. It wasn’t that bad. You’re.. amusing.”
“You mean witty and hilarious,” Baekhyun puffs out his chest, his chin raised. Minseok rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to refute him. Instead he asks, “What do you want to do now?”
“You promised me noraebang.”
“Did I?” Minseok curls his index finger over his chin.
“Yes, you did. No backing out. Don’t feel threatened by my amazing vocals. I’m sure you’ll be able to hold your own.” As he says it, he slides his fingers down his trachea almost as if the rings of it are piano keys. Absentmindedly, Minseok wonders if he he knows how to play, a fact he feels like he should know but doesn’t.
Minseok gives him an impassive stare. “So humble.”
They find a place close to the movie theatre. Baekhyun starts them off with a girl group song Minseok has never heard before, high pitched and cutesy in a way Baekhyun shouldn’t be able to pull off but somehow does. Minseok would have been impressed had he not been laughing so hard his stomach cramps. He almost chants for an encore when Baekhyun thrusts the mic into his hands.
“Your turn.”
He selects an old ballad, a classic he chooses every time he’s asked to sing, and Baekhyun says “Boring~” even as he sits leaning forward, anticipating. Minseok ignores him, turns to the screen even though he knows the words by heart, and sings a particularly passionate rendition. Baekhyun cheers every time Minseok hits a high note, and his whoops almost break Minseok’s concentration, his mouth twitching.
He gets a standing ovation. It takes all of Minseok’s focus not to flush.
Baekhyun’s second song is a ballad too, something slow and miserable, the glint of a challenge in his eyes. It’s a difficult song to sing, but Baekhyun’s voice is pleasant when it’s controlled, warm and emotive in a way that makes Minseok want to ask what do you know about love and loss, and for a few minutes the dark room with its flashing lights and cheap leather sofa fades away. Baekhyun sings with an invisible line pulling on one corner of his mouth. The tambourine in Minseok’s hand sits on his lap unshaken.
“Did you just fall in love with me?~”
“What?” Minseok startles. The music has stopped. Baekhyun is grinning like he’s just won a game Minseok didn’t know they were playing.
“It’s okay hyung, my voice has that kind of effect on people. Did I ever tell you about the time I was scouted to be an idol, back when in high school?” When Minseok shakes his head, he continues, “A woman approached me when I was out with my friends in Myeondeong or somewhere near there and she gave me her business card.” He sits down. “She saw my potential without me even having to sing. Must have been my natural charisma and dashing good looks.”
Minseok vaguely remembers hearing the story in a different voice, in different words, at a time he wasn’t paying as much attention.
“Is your album still in the works then?”
“I didn’t audition, obviously. If I had I’d be the biggest star in all of Asia right now, my face plastered on billboards everywhere.” He frames his face with his fingers.
“Dating Kim Taeyeon?”
Baekhyun blinks, his expression off then back to what it had been just a moment before.
“Naturally.”
Minseok can imagine it, as farfetched as it sounds. Byun Baekhyun, Hallyu star.
“Why didn’t you audition?”
The sleeves of Baekhyun’s sweatshirt are pulled up, elastic stretching over the swell of his forearms. He picks at them as if to fix them. His dark hair flops over his eyes. He keeps pushing it back, but it returns just the same. It looks so soft.
“I don’t know. I guess it wasn’t really what I wanted. The woman seemed kinda sketchy too. I put her card in my pocket and told her I’d think about it, but I didn’t really.”
Minseok sets down the tambourine.
“Too bad. The whole of the continent could have fallen in love with you.”
Baekhyun picks it up, shakes it gently. He tilts his head, the hair shifting out of his face, to look at Minseok right in the face. He rests a hand on Minseok’s knee.
“I guess I’ll have to settle for just you.”
His is a new brand of teasing that Minseok still isn’t sure what to make of.
“I’m not there yet. Maybe after another song?”
Baekhyun grins. “I can do that.”
¤ ¤ ¤
“I’m telling you hyung, you can cut the sexual tension with a knife.”
Minseok brings a piece of kimbap to his lips, chews on it slowly.
“I don’t know Jongdae. To me it just sounds like she thinks you’re a helpless puppy.”
“She does not!” Jongdae squawks. “There’s a spark. You have to be there to see it. I really think she’s my soulmate, hyung. All the signs are there.”
The friendly coworker that has been giving Jongdae the names of the best restaurants in the area has been gradually brought up more often until Jongdae, tired of playing it cool, admitted he liked her. Liyin noona, he calls her reverently, and every time he does Minseok’s cheeks hurt from grinning. It’s kind of adorable.
“If you say so. I’ll be cheering for you regardless.”
Jongdae lets out a particularly hopeless breath, bravado waning. Minseok misses him in a way he can’t articulate, wishes he could push his hand through the screen, across the thousand of miles, and pat his hair gently, push it back away from his face and out of his eyes. There there Jongdae. It’s not so bad.
“I’m sure she’ll see how great of a catch you are eventually.”
“You did not just say that,” Jongdae grumbles. “You sound like my mother.”
Minseok scratches the side of neck with his right index finger, his thigh with his left. “You know how bad I am at this.”
Another sigh. “Yeah, yeah. You’re better than Baekhyun at least. He keeps giving me useless advice. Like he knows anything about..” He pauses. “Anything.”
Minseok smiles at that. It’s not hard to imagine the sort of suggestions Baekhyun would come up with.
“Is useless advice worse than no advice at all?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Good advice would be great though.”
“Just be yourself,” Minseok offers with a shrug.
“Hyung,” Jongdae whines.
Minseok pushes himself back on the chair, scrunches his nose. “I’m out of practice so I can’t help you much. All I have to offer are clichés.”
A contemplative look settles over Jongdae’s features. “When was the last time you went out on a date, hyung?”
Minseok can’t remember. He pushes the remaining two pieces of kimbap around on the plate.
“It’s been a while.”
“And why’s that? You have time, so don’t say that you’re too busy.”
Minseok tenses. He hopes Jongdae’s getting as grainy a video feed as he is and can’t see it.
“Not you too. I’m just not- I just don’t want to. There isn’t a person shaped hole in my life that needs to be filled. I’m single by choice.”
“Aren’t you lonely?”
There are piles of books on the floor ready to be wiped of dust and alphabetized, three whole seasons of an American crime drama downloaded on his computer. He thinks back to the day he went to Baekhyun’s job and saw something in him that he’d seen in himself.
“Why would I be lonely?”
Jongdae drops the subject though it’s evident he has a lot more to say. Before he ends the video call, Jongdae asks “So, you and Baekhyun are friends now?”
Minseok shrugs, hums in acknowledgment. Baekhyun must have told him they’ve gotten friendly, friendlier.
“I can’t believe it took me leaving the country for you two to hang out with each other.” Jongdae is pouting, but he doesn’t seem that upset.
“Maybe you were the problem,” Minseok teases, adding a “Just kidding~” just in case Jongdae takes it to heart.
“It’s his birthday on the sixth.”
“Is it?” Minseok checks the calendar. Four more days until the sixth, a Wednesday.
“Yeah..” Jongdae looks the way he does when he wants something but doesn’t know how to ask for it. “Are you-“ he begins, then shakes his head and whatever question he had in mind away. “Buy him a slice of cake or something.”
Minseok wants to ask Jongdae why he’s waited for so long to get two of his closest friends to be more than acquaintances, if he likes to keep his life in separated sections the same way Minseok hates it when different foods touch on his plate. Were you afraid I’d steal him away? Were you afraid he’d steal me away? Why did you ask me to check in on him when you could have asked anyone else? But there’s a weird inflection in Jongdae’s voice, an unfamiliar hesitation. So he doesn’t ask anything at all.
“Does he like ice cream cake?”
¤ ¤ ¤
“So, what would you say your strengths are?”
They’re sitting across from each other at Minseok’s four chaired dining table, a melting glob of cake in the middle of it. It’s pralines and cream, three days late but still appreciated. Baekhyun had seemed oddly touched at the gesture even though he claimed he knew Jongdae was somehow behind it.
“My strengths?” Baekhyun repeats, the corners of his lips white and glistening and distracting. Minseok resists the urge to throw a napkin at him, to wipe them clean himself. “Hmm, I’m hard working, I guess.”
“You don’t sound very sure,” says Minseok, twirling his spoon. Clockwise, then anticlockwise, then clockwise again. His other hand pinches his jeans, rubbing the fabric to the same rhythm.
“It’s weird taking this seriously because it’s you,” Baekhyun whines. “Maybe we should both put on some suits. Do you think I could fit into one of yours?”
“Pretend it isn’t me then. Pretend I’m someone else and we’re somewhere else.”
Baekhyun keeps kicking him under the table, though it doesn’t seem entirely on purpose. Minseok retracts his legs and tucks them under his own chair.
“And I’m someone else? That’d help me get a job.” Baekhyun asks dryly, and Minseok can’t help but think that self deprecating is a shade too dark for him.
“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” says Minseok, nudging Baekhyun’s leg with his toe under the table in what he hopes is a comforting manner. “Imagine the suit if you think it would help.”
“I’m hardworking,” Baekhyun says again with more conviction. “I’m passionate and I’m resourceful. I always get the job done.”
“Elaborate,” Minseok requests, leaning forward and propping his chin on his enlaced hands.
Baekhyun wrinkles his nose, a pout forming, and it’s only after he licks some of the melted ice cream from his lips that Minseok realizes that he has yet to look away from them.
Baekhyun fumbles through his answer. Minseok helps him rephrase when his words aren’t quite right. They work through a few more questions, stopping only to put the remainder of the cake in the freezer before it drips onto the wood.
As they do, Baekhyun leans against the counter and asks, “Did you get the first job you applied for?”
Minseok closes the freezer door. “The second, actually.”
He had been aiming to high the first time. He didn’t really expect to get the job, but it sill stung a tiny bit.
“Ah, my mistake.” Baekhyun’s bangs now completely shield his eyes. He keeps parting them in the middle, but they just flop back. “I can’t remember how many I’ve applied for.” He presses his lips together and lets out an exhale through his nose. “You’d think the rejection would get easier to swallow with practice, but it really isn’t. If anything, it just gets worse.”
“It’s only been a year since you graduated. That’s not very long.”
“It isn’t,” Baekhyun concedes. “It isn’t a short amount of time either.”
Minseok wonders if he should pat him on his shoulder since he doesn’t know how to comfort with words, but Baekhyun gives him no opportunity to do so.
“Do you like your job, hyung?” he asks.
Minseok crosses his arms and leans back against the refrigerator. It’s warm against his back.
“I don’t know. I don’t hate it, but I don’t exactly anticipate going to work every morning.” It’s routine, really. Minseok likes that he’s a place to go every morning, but he can’t help but feel like he would be just as happy doing anything else. He wonders what that says about him.
“Are you telling me it wasn’t your life long dream to work in a cubicle?” asks Baekhyun with a teasing smile.
Minseok thinks back to his childhood fantasies, a list so long it would pile at his feet if he ever took the time to write it down.
“I wanted to be many different things growing up, but never this.”
“Like what?” Baekhyun asks, pushing away from the counter.
“A teacher, an architect, a barista, a soccer player. So many things.”
“Yet here you are, none of those things.” Baekhyun crosses his arms, looking at Minseok with interest.
Some of his aspirations weren’t practical. Some of them were, but he’d forgone them anyway.
“Here I am.” The kitchen is dark, but it feels like it’s too late to turn on the rest of the lights. “I don’t hate my job,” Minseok reaffirms. “I could have been something else, but I don’t regret being a measly office worker, as boring as it might seem to be.”
“No regrets? That must be nice,” Baekhyun says wistfully, and Minseok wonders what he wishes he’d done differently.
“What did you want to be?”
“Rich,” Baekhyun replies automatically. “It was a pretty vague life dream. There are a lot of ways to get rich, none of them easy.”
“You want to work at a television station,” Minseok comments. He had an interview at jTBC after all.
“I want to write for variety shows. I think-” He hesitates, curling in on himself a little. He looks so young, Minseok thinks. He is so young, even if only two years younger. “I think I’d be good at it.”
“I think so too.”
A pause. Baekhyun pushes his hair back. Most of it falls back.
“Thanks for this hyung.” He’s looking at the hinges of the freezer’s door then at its handle. “You really didn’t have to.” His mouth still looks sticky when he stretches it into a smile.
“It was nothing,” Minseok shrugs. Then he adds, “You should probably wash your mouth. You eat like a child.”
¤ ¤ ¤
would you rather have a short full life or a long meaningless one?
that’s a hefty question for breakfast..
¤ ¤ ¤
“You cut your hair,” Joonmyun comments when he walks into the office and stops at Minseok’s cubicle. “I did,” Minseok replies, having done so the night before, frustrated with the way it kept parting awkwardly, the way certain strands stuck out no matter how many times he tried to flatten them with his hands. “It was way too long and I couldn’t just grow it out forever.”
Joonmyun smiles pleasantly, his eyes crinkling. “It looked nice. It suited you. Short hair suits you too.” Joonmyun’s hair is exactly the same length it has always been, as if he doesn’t allow it to grow at all.
Minseok thumbs at his ear. It feels bare. He almost regrets cutting it, but hair grows back, his especially quick. “When I was in high school, my hair was long enough to cover my neck, almost down to my shoulders. I don’t know why I let it grow out that much. I cringe every time I look back at the photos. It looked so awful.”
Joonmyun adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, shifts his weight from one foot to another. His shoes, Italian and obviously expensive, are newly shined.
“I’m surprised you managed to. Didn’t your school mind?”
“Not really. They pretty much gave us free rein with our appearances, within reason of course. Most students didn’t abuse their freedom.”
They were too studious, too focused to rebel. Minseok was a senior, most of his time spent cramming for tests. The hair made him feel more interesting.
“My school was strict about hair cuts. I wanted to dye my hair, but that wasn’t allowed either,” Joonmyun says wistfully.
“What color?”
“I wanted to go blond, though now that I think about it, it was for the best that I couldn’t.”
Minseok tries to imagine Joonmyun, class representative most likely, in a school uniform with the same silver blond hair the boy at Kolon Sports was sporting.
Maybe Joonmyun had wanted to be a little more interesting too.
“I think you’d be able to pull it off, the blond.”
Joonmyun grins, and Minseok wonders if his teeth are naturally this straight or if he’d gotten braces. “Really?”
“It’s not too late,” says Minseok.
“I think it is.” Joonmyun probably means he’s too old, but Minseok thinks too grownup.
Another shift of the bag. It knocks against Joonmyun’s hip bone. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but changes his mind halfway through. Another smile, always so pleasant. “Well, I’ll get to work then.”
Minseok nods, lifts his fingers, his palms still pressed against the arms of his office chair and waves them slightly, a dismissal.
He swivels in his chair, pulls a folded tissue out of pocket and wipes the nonexistent smudges out of the lenses of his glasses. This morning he’d waken up to a text from Kyungsoo that read, want to have dinner together, hyung? it’s been a while. He’d readily agreed because it has been a while and time spent with Kyungsoo is always enjoyable, calming and comfortable in a way it can only be with someone so similar to him.
He waits for Kyungsoo to set a time and a place, leaving his cellphone in the upper drawer of his desk as he works. When he opens it during his lunch break he finds Kyungsoo’s suggestion of Minseok coming over to his apartment for a home cooked meal. He’s missed Kyungsoo’s cooking, a rare treat in and of itself, and accepts Kyungsoo’s offer with enthusiasm, thumbs up and heart-eyed emojis. They make a date for seven thirty in the evening, just enough time for Minseok to get back to his own apartment and change into something a little less stifling than a suit, and then set off to Kyungsoo’s apartment twenty minutes away.
Kyungsoo opens the door in a black sweatshirt, the color of his pants, his socks, his hair. The scent of spices wafts out from behind him and Minseok’s stomach twists with hunger. “Just in time,” he says, letting Minseok in and watching him slip his feet from his shoes. “We won’t be alone. I hope you don’t mind.”
Minseok looks to him in surprise. “Who’s joining us? Jaehwan?” He likes Jaehwan, Kyungsoo’s roommate and close friend. He’s polite and witty and he always has the funniest stories to share.
Kyungsoo lets out a long suffering sigh and before he has a chance to reply, someone peeks out from the kitchen. “Hey, hyung!”
It’s not Kyungsoo’s roommate.
“Baekhyun?”
“He just showed up without notice,” Kyungsoo grumbles. “Same as he always does.”
Baekhyun comes up to them, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo’s torso, his chin digging into Kyungsoo’s narrow shoulder. “You love my surprise visits. You don’t have to pretend around Minseok hyung. We can all see through your act.”
Kyungsoo extracts himself from Baekhyun’s grip, glares at him. “I don’t mind,” Minseok says, suppressing a chuckle. Baekhyun grins. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, albeit fondly.
The two of them sit in the living room after Kyungsoo waves them off to it so he can finish off dinner in peace. Minseok hands him the bag of sweets he’s brought with him for dessert and Kyungsoo accepts it with thanks.
“Your hair’s shorter,” Baekhyun says, reaching out and tousling it from front to back, lingering slightly at the short hairs near his nape before retracting his hand. Minseok frowns at the action, patting his hair down in case it’s been messed up. “I like it,” Baekhyun adds, unfazed. “It brings out the roundness of your cheeks.”
“My cheeks are not round,” Minseok protests. They used to be, but not anymore. He’s long outgrown round. He sucks them in self consciously.
“Why are you taking this negatively? They’re cute. You’re cute.” He extends his hand to Minseok’s cheek, long fingers in a pinching position, but he changes his mind in the last minute and pokes it instead.
“Cute,” he says a third time. A brand of mischief Minseok is slowly getting accustomed to glints in his eyes. Minseok smacks his hand away, pokes him back harder. Always a tiny bit harder.
“You’re so mean to me,” he whines, falling halfway into Minseok’s lap, all puppy eyes and mock despair. His eyelashes are straight and feathery, fanning shadows in the dim yellow light of Kyungsoo’s living room. Minseok resists the urge to poke him again.
“Should I cut my hair?”
His bangs frame the sides of his face, smoothing nonexistent edges. When Minseok pulls at a lock, it reaches the tip of Baekhyun’s nose. He wrinkles it like it tickles.
“I like your hair.”
Minseok curls the strand around his finger before letting it go.
“Wait just a little bit longer.”
Baekhyun’s grin is a thousand watts bright.
“Food’s almost ready,” Kyungsoo announces as he steps out of the kitchen. He looks at them oddly for a second, like he’s walked in on something he hadn’t expected. His gaze flickers to Baekhyun and his straight eyebrows furrow, his thick lips thinning. He’s conveying a message that Minseok is unable to decode. Baekhyun lets out a breath, exasperated and offended, and hoists himself up and slightly away.
When they sit down to eat - an experimental pasta dish, sliced French bread in a basket- the air is less laid back than Minseok had hoped. Baekhyun, to his right, fidgets in his chair like he’s struggling to get comfortable. His mouth or his eyes or both, tight.
“This is very good,” Minseok tells Kyungsoo, who smiles to himself, pleased. Baekhyun sips his water in silence. Sulking or tired or both. Minseok can’t help but think that Baekhyun, when he’s not being teasing and loud, is an inscrutable thing.
“Eat,” Kyungsoo orders him, commanding and soft in a way only he can be. “You’re getting too thin. You look even more ridiculous in your oversized clothes than usual.”
“It’s a fashion choice,” Baekhyun retorts. “You know, like you deciding to only wear one color.”
Minseok chuckles. The mood lifts. They eat.
They talk briefly about their respective jobs, too dull of a topic for them to delve into. Kyungsoo tells them his girlfriend Seungwan has recently adopted a dog - a white Maltese- and that it stares at him every time he visits, standing still and alert as if on guard. Baekhyun complains about the general disarray of his and Chanyeol’s shared apartment. “You’d have an aneurism if you saw it,” he says, and while that could apply to either of them, he gives Minseok a pointed look so Minseok know he mostly means him.
He brings up Chanyeol’s constant studying, how he likes to recite the facts out loud and blast music from the speakers in his room as he does, how his textbooks are as thick as bricks. “They’re so heavy!” Baekhyun exclaims. “One fell on my foot once and almost broke it. I can’t believe he actually carries them around with him everywhere.” He’s resting one of his elbows in the space between his and Minseok’s plates. Minseok likes the way his voice rises and falls when he talks, theatrical. His stories always engrossing regardless of how interesting they are.
When Baekhyun excuses himself to the restroom, Kyungsoo blinks owlishly at Minseok. It’s unnerving. “When did you two get so close?”
Minseok centers his plate on the placemat. “We’ve been..” He wipes invisible sauce from his fingers. “Talking, lately. Hanging out occasionally. I wouldn’t say we were close. We’re both just-” He considers saying that it’s because they’re both down a best friend that they’ve sought solace in each other, but he know that’s only partially the truth. So he keeps that thought to himself. “Bored,” he says finally.
Another blink. Kyungsoo’s eyes are so dark, and in this light they are all knowing. Minseok blinks back.
“Aimless,” Minseok amends. “It’s nice, spending time with him. Fun. Distracting.”
“What do you need to be distracted from?”
The quietness, how much things have changed, how little he’s changed, how his friends are leading full lives that barely intersect with his anymore, how none of these things bother him as much as they should.
“A lot of things,” he says finally.
“What did I miss?” Baekhyun asks when he comes back, his hands dripping water.
“Nothing,” Kyungsoo says, standing up and piling the plates so he can carry them to the sink. Minseok follows him with the glasses.
“I don’t believe you. Were you talking about me?” asks Baekhyun, shuffling behind them with the remaining dishes.
“The world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocking as that may seem,” Kyungsoo deadpans. The dishes barely make a sound when he places them in the sink.
“You’re both so cruel to me,” Baekhyun whines. “I’m feeling very attacked today.”
“Well, that’s what you get when you don’t announce your visits beforehand. You’re always on your phone. It takes no effort for you to text or call or something.” He says it with a glower, but Minseok can tell that this is a repeated conversation and there is no actual heat behind his words.
Baekhyun nudges Kyungsoo’s shoulder with his own, angles his head so he can look at Kyungsoo’s face.
“How lonely would you be if I didn’t check in on you from time to time? You’d miss me so much and we both know you’d be too proud to beg for my company.”
Kyungsoo turns the tap on to soak the sink’s contents, his back to them. “Maybe Minseok hyung should get his share of your charity visits. I’m sure he’d enjoy them more than I do.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Minseok’s first relationship -not counting the one he had with Park Boyoung -full cheeked and bright eyed, who followed him around all through kindergarten, announcing to the other kids that when they were going to get married when they were older- was with Bae Joohyun. She was a year younger than him, and Minseok remembers the buzz that surrounded her the first few months of his second year of high school.
She was so pretty, objectively the prettiest girl Minseok -who’d only caught glimpses of her in crowded hallways- had ever seen, and everyone noticed. Did you see her? All the boys would whisper in awe. A goddess is among us. But along with the reverence Minseok also heard She’s so full of herself. She doesn’t even try to be friendly, probably doesn’t think we’re worth her time.
“Do you think she’s pretty? Cause I don’t really see what the fuss is all about.” Sunhwa had asked Hanbyul who sat to the right of him, her tone sharp and accusing. And Minseok thought it would be too blatant of a lie for anyone to answer no to that question.
Bae Joohyun, timid and overwhelmed with all the attention, would spend her lunches in a secluded area in the back of the school grounds reading romance novels until the bell rang. That was where Minseok had first met her, a twisted ankle keeping him away from the soccer field where he usually played with his friends. It was such a long way. Minseok still doesn’t remember why he’d limped all the way there.
“My sister really likes that book,” he said to her. And though she’d been startled, looking down at the cover of her book like she’d forgotten what the title was. “It’s a good book. This is my second time reading it.” She measured her words, shaping the letters with careful precision, stuttering slightly. It was endearing.
He had her tell him about it because she looked so small as she sat in a row of chairs meant for six alone.
The next day, he sat at the other end of the row, his English workbook opened to a page about past perfect tense, a mechanical pencil hooked on the spine of it. She had a different book in her hands and she had almost looked hopeful when she caught him noticing it.
Days of similar conversations passed, but Minseok didn’t mind hearing about books he was never going to read because Joohyun’s dialect surfaced when she was excited. She tended to steer off topic and Minseok learned a lot about her. Like how she enjoys cooking seaweed soup even when it’s no one’s birthday, how she has a younger sister of her own.
Some days they would just sit in silence and do their homework or revise for upcoming tests. Her notebooks were all different shades of purple, her notes all in mind maps and tables. Minseok’s ankle healed, but he still kept her company.
The distant shouts and laughter, the warm hue of the spring sun, the spring breeze in Joohyun’s long hair and the snacks they shared between them. It had all felt dreamlike, a small part of the world that was just for them.
When she confessed to him, just as they were about to turn the corner on their way back to their classes, he was only a little bit surprised.
Dating Bae Joohyun wasn’t all that different from being her sitting companion. They went to cheesy romance movies and fast food restaurants, sharing large orders of fries. One difference was her hand in his, was her head on his shoulder, was their arms locked. He kissed her for the first time after their third date. The journey from where Minseok was standing at her bent knees to where she was looking up at him on the swing had felt impossibly long.
When she ended things, four months later, she said “It’s like you don’t like me. Not enough.”
Looking back, at twenty eight, Minseok still isn’t quite sure what he had done wrong.
¤ ¤ ¤
The air rushing through Minseok’s lungs is crisp and refreshing. It will get a lot warmer in a few hours, too warm for jogging, at least for him. But right now, the wind is cool enough to keep his clothes from sticking to him, to keep his body from overheating from the exertion. He’s going at a slower pace than usual, looking back every so often to make sure he hasn’t gone too far.
“I think I’m dying!” comes a wail from behind him, and when Minseok turns he finds Baekhyun crouching, palms pressed flat on his knees. His hair is pulled away from his face in a ponytail in the center of his head. Minseok had provided the hair tie, knowing Baekhyun would need it. “As expected from our Minseok hyung,” Baekhyun had said as Minseok looped it a few times until it was secure enough that he had to tug his fingers out. “Always prepared~” His apple hair made him look almost ridiculously cute, and Minseok had been tempted to pinch his cheeks and coo the same way Baekhyun always did to him.
“You have no stamina,” Minseok says with a frown. “You’re wheezing and we’ve barely been at this fifteen minutes. Do you smoke or something?”
“No,” Baekhyun chokes out. “I’m just out of practice.” His ponytail flops when he crouches farther. Minseok approaches him and pulls at it lightly. “Want a break?”
“Yes please,” Baekhyun breathes with relief.
The grin that breaks out on Minseok’s face is one he hasn’t worn in a long time. Mischievous. “Too bad.” He twirls around and jogs away, laughing at Baekhyun’s cry of protest. Minseok had dragged him to an early morning run by the river after noticing that Baekhyun got winded from climbing two flights of stairs. “Consider this an intervention,” he’d said to him.
They take a break after a while. Baekhyun seemed like he was about to pass out, his face red and his breathing ragged. “I can’t believe I let you coerce me into doing this with you,” he whimpers. “My muscles are going to ache for days.” He presses his forehead against the back of the bench they’re sitting on, his fist against his chest, willing his heart to a steadier beat. His eyes are clenched shut. “That’s if I survive this. My lungs are on fire. I think they’re ruined forever.”
“You’re talking just fine, so I think you’re okay,” Minseok says dryly, but he rubs Baekhyun’s back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. He hands him a water bottle and Baekhyun drinks out of it with so much fervor, a good portion of the water dribbles down his chin, leaving wet splotches on his pale grey t-shirt. Minseok tsks at him, wiping the wetness off Baekhyun’s chin with his thumb. “Such a child,” he says.
Baekhyun looks at him from under his lashes, his mouth pulling into a line Minseok has witnessed before but has yet to understand. His eyes reflect the morning light and Minseok’s face and something else entirely. Minseok’s stomach clenches and he pulls his thumb away.
They sit with their backs straight, observing the people that pass them. There’s sweat trickling down Minseok’s back, plastering his hair to his temples, but it’s drying. Baekhyun’s breathing is even again.
“Are you-” Minseok scratches the back of his neck. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asks because he doesn’t know for sure. The clouds in the sky are sparse.
Baekhyun doesn’t answer right away. One of the clouds looks like a dolphin mid-dive.
“Why? Are you interested in me?” His tone isn’t as teasing as his smile. His eyes are barely teasing at all.
I don’t know, Minseok thinks. He wonders if Jongdae told him anything, but he shakes that thought away. What does Jongdae have to tell?
He kicks the side of Baekhyun’s shoe without looking at him. “I’m just asking.”
“If you say so,” Baekhyun singsongs. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
Minseok figured. It would have been brought up if he was. Probably.
“Are you?” asks Baekhyun, pressing the water bottle -a third of it left- against his neck even though it’s tepid. Minseok pulls a few tissues from his pocket and wipes his neck and forehead.
“No.”
Baekhyun stretches his legs in front of him. His sneaker were once white but are now filthy. Minseok scrunches his nose at the sight of them.
“When was your last relationship?” asks Baekhyun.
A women speed walks past them, her dog on a leash and keeping pace with her.
“It ended a year ago.”
More than a year really, but Minseok had long decided not to count.
“Why?” asks Baekhyun, turning to look at him.
Minseok ignores the question.
“What about you?”
Baekhyun’s gaze returns to the gravel path.
“February.”
Baekhyun snappy and withdrawn, the hunch in his shoulders, Jongdae’s concern. February.
“Oh,” Minseok says finally.
“Aren’t you going to ask why it ended?”
“I’m not nosy like you.”
“Too bad. It’s juicy stuff.”
Minseok belatedly remembers to offer him some tissues. Baekhyun accepts them, peering at Minseok curiously from the corner of his eyes. It’s an invitation, maybe. Minseok isn’t good at asking, even when a question occupies his throat, or sits heavy on his tongue.
Baekhyun sighs, deflates.
“Are you still sad about it?” asks Minseok.
“A little. Are you?”
“Sometimes. A long time has passed, but..” Minseok isn’t really a touchy person, but it’s been so long since somebody held him.
“It’s not like I was surprised that it ended. It’s always the same. It’s fun until it’s serious and then they leave. No one wants serious, apparently. At least not with me.” Tight, pursed mouth. “You’d think I’d have grown thicker skin by now. I should stop getting attached.” For a moment his expression is open and vulnerable.
Are you interested in me.. Who jokes about things like that?
“You wear you heart on your sleeve. I like that about you.”
“Do I?” Baekhyun asks. “Do you?”
“Yeah.”
Baekhyun swings his legs the way a child does when his feet don’t reach the ground.
“It’s weird,” he mumbles.
“What is?”
“Having your attention. I’m still not used to it. It always felt like I was kind of invisible to you.”
“That’s not true.” Minseok frowns.
“You don’t notice people unless they actively work for your attention. I was always so curious about you, but you never seemed like you’d answer any of my questions. I mean, Jongdae and I shared so much, almost everything, but we never shared you. It was like you and I had joint custody of him, dividing his time between us.”
“I noticed you. You’re so loud, it’s hard not to.” Baekhyun only ever looked at him when he thought Minseok wasn’t paying attention. That made Minseok do the same, sneaking glances like they weren’t allowed. He never knew what to say to him, because Baekhyun seemed like he was waiting to hear something in particular. Minseok could never figure out what that was. “I didn’t think you enjoyed my company.” That’s only partially true. Mostly, Minseok didn’t consider it much of an option, the three of them together.
“I did. I do now, too.”
Minseok smiles and the stretch of his lips feels more awkward than anything. “Me too,” he says.
Another pause, another searching look.
“I’m.. I like men.” Baekhyun says it with a painted on breeziness. He’s wringing his fingers.
“Oh.” Minseok swallows. His mouth feels dry. He should have brought more water. “Okay.”
“I didn’t know if you knew,” Baekhyun says.
“I didn’t know,” says Minseok gently. What does Minseok know about Baekhyun, really?
An old man trudges by in a green training suit. Baekhyun follows him with his eyes.
“Well now you do,” he says. There’s something fragile in his voice, barely noticeable, a piece of his heart bared. This moment is important, Minseok realizes. What he says next is important.
“Do you want to keep going or have you had enough?”
Baekhyun’s gaze is soft, his mouth in that ineligible line.
“I’ll keep going.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Ian was Jinki’s friend first. They knew each other from a shared class or club or acquaintance. Minseok doesn’t really remember how. When Jinki had introduced them, all Minseok could focus on was the warmth in Ian’s smile and the gleam of interest in his eyes.
“Let’s be friends,” Ian had offered, genuine in his request. “I want to be friends with you.”
Minseok had no reason to refuse.
Ian was both the easiest and hardest friendship Minseok had ever made. Easy because Ian was so accommodating, remembered every minute detail Minseok shared about himself, spoke in simple terms with only the barest hint of an American accent. It was cute, endearing. That was one of the reasons it was hard. When Ian looked at Minseok like there was nothing else worth seeing, listened to him like there wasn’t anything else worth hearing, a small but resolute flame ignited in Minseok’s chest.
Walking with their arms brushing, quiet evenings spent in Ian’s apartment eating Minseok’s favorite foods, Ian calling him “Minsook-ah,” affectionate and teasing. It was all so purposeful. Minseok had to be a fool not to understand.
“You stole him from me,” Jinki said much later, jutting his lower lip in a pout. He’d looked at both of them then, not specifying which one of them he meant. Ian laughed, his left hand rubbing circles between Minseok’s shoulder blades. Jinki made a show of not noticing.
Ian kept him company when he was studying, drove him around in his car when Minseok felt suffocated, walked him to his doorstep. It was a gradual progression. Holding his hand, resting his head on his shoulder, on his lap. When Ian leaned closer, it felt only natural for Minseok to do the same.
They didn’t put a name to it, this thing they built together. Ian didn’t bring it up, and Minseok would never ever ask. “You like him so much,” Dongwoo had commented, an unspoken question in the lilt of his voice. “I do,” was Minseok’s honest reply. Jongdae talked around it, but Minseok knew what he suspected.
Months later, with a boy between his legs with a hot breath and dark, dark eyes, Minseok didn’t question how that came to be.
Ian was at his graduation, waited for him outside the building of his first job interview, was his ride to the second. He stayed over that first night in Minseok’s new apartment, when it was bare and drafty and Minseok wasn’t yet used to being so completely and utterly alone.
When Ian finished his MBA, he was expected to return to America. “I think we should end things cleanly,” he said to Minseok two weeks before his flight home. “Long distance never works.”
It felt wrong. How could Ian, who was nothing short of adoring, who once -in a hushed, vulnerable voice- told him he was afraid that he loved Minseok more, end things without a fight?
At the lump in Minseok’s throat and the tension in Minseok’s jaw, Ian added, “Minsookie, this couldn’t go on forever.”
Minseok felt so, so stupid for ever believing that it could.
¤ ¤ ¤
hyung would you rather be killed by a human or a wild animal?
how am i killed?
violently
how do you even come up with these questions?
¤ ¤ ¤
Minseok watches Joonmyun as he types out a document. He’s slow but steady, doesn’t use the backspace even once. When he stops, Minseok makes his way to him. Baekhyun had said that he only bestows his attention to those who work for it. Minseok doesn’t want that to be true about him.
“Hey, Joonmyun. Working hard, I see,” he says, resting his weight slightly on one of the walls of Joonmyun’s cubicle.
Joonmyun turns to him, his eyes crinkling in a smile. Minseok smiles back.
“Would you like to get lunch with me?” he asks.
Joonmyun raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Sure. That would be nice.”
“There’s a great buldak place just around the corner from here. Can you handle spicy food?”
Joonmyun laughs. “In moderation.”
“It’s not that bad. I’m sure it won’t be too great a challenge for you. I’m pretty moderate myself.”
He took Baekhyun to it a couple of weeks ago. Minseok had to wipe the dampness off his brow and his chapped lips had stung a little, but it was delicious. Baekhyun who could barely tolerate the heat had gone red in the face. His mouth was red too, the sauce congealing at its corners.
Joonmyun says, “I’ll take your word for it, then.”
After they get to the restaurant, order, and have their food placed in front of them, mindless small talk filling in the awkward silences. Joonmyun, who has been eying Minseok with something akin to suspicion finally says, “You know, I thought,” he furrows his eyebrows, then smiles. “I was afraid you didn’t like me very much.”
“What gave you that idea?” Minseok asks. He folds his napkin into a tiny triangle with both his hands.
The restaurant is pretty crowded, most of its patrons office workers in suits like them. Minseok has to angle forward to hear Joonmyun properly.
“Whenever I talked to you, it felt like I was interrupting you from something important.”
Guilt spreads thick and potent on the underside of Minseok’s ribcage. He used to be a lot better at this, at making friends. It’s a skill he’d mastered in elementary school and slowly lost with time. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
Joonmyun waves him off, like the apology is unnecessary.
Joonmyun with his gentle face, with his warm voice, doing everything that’s asked of him with a smile. Joonmyun with his perfected surface, with his organized desk and cluttered drawers. Minseok can’t imagine being friends with him, couldn’t think of a single thing they’d have to share.
He has the presence of a teacher, warm and encouraging. He always has a cup of poorly made but well intentioned coffee ready when Minseok most needs it. Minseok realizes, abruptly, that they’re somehow already friends.
“I like you,” he tells him, meaning it.
Joonmyun’s smile is big enough to stretch his face almost unattractively. “I like you too.”
¤ ¤ ¤
They watch the last episode of their drama together. Baekhyun occupying the floor by Minseok’s feet, his legs stretched out in front of him. The heroine gains the recognition she so coveted, her shoe designs winning an international award. The lead male stands by her side with pride, his mother -snobby and classist- relents, sudden character development prompting her to want nothing more than for her son to be happy.
Baekhyun points out all the loose ends, all the inconsistencies, and Minseok nods along. They both feel bad for the second lead, who was kinder and more supportive, but who wasn’t chosen in the end. He moves to America to start afresh. The heroine offers him nothing more than an apologetic smile.
When the final shot freezes and the ending soundtrack begins to play, Baekhyun mutes the television and turns to Minseok with a grin. “Let’s order chicken,” he says. Minseok likes how his canines are a bit longer than the rest of his teeth. He likes a lot of things about Baekhyun’s smile, really. The impishness of it, the shape of his mouth.
Minseok doesn’t blink at the warmth that spreads through his chest. It’s familiar enough. He knows what it means.
The thing is, Minseok knows that he can get used to anything. The weight of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the way his contacts make his eyes itchy and dry. Going out every night of the week, having his life narrowed down to the stretch of road between his apartment and work. Friends, to strangers. Strangers to friends. When he first realized he wanted nothing more than to kiss a boy he thought, okay. And as he looks at Baekhyun, who he’s known for almost half his life but really only recently, he thinks I’ve gotten used to you.
“What’s wrong, hyung?” asks Baekhyun, twisting to press his cheek on the leather just to the left of Minseok’s knee, looking up at him.
Minseok takes a moment to consider his answer. Baekhyun has been nothing but honest, or at least a lot more honest than Minseok has been.
Minseok decides that he can be straightforward too.
He gently pushes the strands of hair away from Baekhyun’s face with his index finger, then pulls them away. He inhales deeply through his nose, holds the breath in his lungs for a moment, then lets it out. “I like men too. Sometimes.” He’s never said it before, not to anyone. It wasn’t shame that stopped him, it was a different, more complicated thing.
Minseok can see Baekhyun’s whole body going rigid. “Sometimes?” he asks.
Minseok looks down at his own hands, but when he sees how badly they’re shaking he looks away. The tv is showing a commercial for air conditioning now. “Sometimes,” Minseok repeats. “Not exclusively, and not-” Minseok has already run out of negatives.
“Have you ever been with a man, hyung?” Baekhyun asks.
“Yes,” Minseok licks his lips, a nervous tick. “One man, but for a.. while.”
“Do you have really high standards or something?” Minseok can’t read the expression on Baekhyun’s face, but he knows what this is all leading up to.
“Maybe I do.” Stop licking your lips.
Baekhyun slowly pulls himself up and off the floor, and onto the sofa. Minseok’s heart is hammering so hard against the inside of his chest. “What about me?” Baekhyun asks, voice too shaky to be teasing. “Do I fit your high standards?”
His hand in his mother’s, his sister’s in his, his fingers clutching the straps of his backpack as he walks to school alone, the long subway journey to his university on the other side of the city, at first alert so he doesn’t miss his stop, then dozing off, waking up a reflex. Transitioning, growing up, moving forward, the unfamiliar becoming routine. Minseok goes to work in a car he owns, listening to the radio.
Baekhyun is waiting for the words Minseok has lined up to say.
Minseok is afraid of very few things, cats with outstretched claws, losing his sister in a crowd and never finding her again, birds that fly too close to his head, but he’s not afraid of change.
“Maybe you do.”
Baekhyun’s breath catches, and his eyes are searching, but he still grins like he’s about to crack a joke, albeit wobbly. “Are you finally admitting that you’ve fallen in love with me?”
Minseok steels himself and looks Baekhyun in the eye. “I guess I am.”
Another sharp intake of breath. Another grin, less wobbly, more wobbly. Minseok can’t tell. “Took you long enough,” Baekhyun breathes before leaning forward with purpose. Minseok meets him halfway, their lips fitting together. Minseok pushes Baekhyun back until his back hits the sofa cushion, one hand curled over Baekhyun’s thigh, the other curled over the top of the cushion by his head.
It’s open-mouthed and sloppy. Baekhyun makes tiny mewling noises, grips Minseok’s shirt like an anchor. Minseok’s hand slowly moves from the cushion to gripping Baekhyun’s shoulder to rubbing circles in the back of his neck, rubbing circles in his thigh with the other.
For a moment, Minseok is struck with disbelief. He’s kissing Byun Baekhyun, a boy he remembers towering over, the boy who once dyed his hair bright purple, the catalyst behind all of Jongdae’s worst ideas.
He can’t believe it, and yet here he is.
bonus:
Jongdae visits in late September. For Chuseok and for his birthday, he says.
They go out to dinner, the three of them. Samgyeopsal and soju to satisfy Jongae’s craving. The meal is extra loud, Baekhyun and Jongdae bickering and shrieking and laughing through it. “I miss being able to mute you,” Jongdae says to Baekhyun, and Minseok has to stuff a wrap in Baekhyun’s mouth to keep him quiet.
It’s strange, being included in things he used to be excluded from. Things have changed so quickly, though over the span of a little over half a year. It feels like someone has flipped a coin in Minseok’s hand. Where there was heads, he now stares down at tails.
After things settle down a bit, Jongdae gives them a thoughtful look, his chin propped on his palm. Minseok doubts he can see their fingers interlocked under the table, but it’s probably not hard to imagine where their hands have gone. He knows after all, what they’ve come to be to each other. They told him.
“Is it weird that I kind of feel left out?” Jongdae asks them, tapping at the corner of his mouth.
“Yes,” Baekhyun says. “There’s only room for two in this relationship, so don’t get your hopes up. It’s not our fault you still haven’t gone anywhere with your soulmate neighbour.”
Jongdae scowls, then his expression turns devious. “Minseok hyung, did Baekhyun ever tell you how he had the biggest crush on you back in middle school?”
Minseok grins, leaning forward in interest. “No, he didn’t. Is that why he was so quiet around me?”
“Why else? He’d get tongue-tied. Isn’t that the cutest?”
“Hey! Stop talking about me like I’m not right here.” Baekhyun whines. Minseok turns to him, sighing wistfully. “You know, I kind of miss quiet you.”
“No you don’t,” says Baekhyun, resting his head on Minseok’s shoulder. His hair tickles Minseok’s chin. And Minseok, whose life has become so full of Baekhyun’s noise and Baekhyun’s presence and the mischief that still fits him so snuggly at twenty six, couldn’t agree more.