Whole Lotta Glam (Sugar, Sweat, Spice.) → for haoxihuanni (2/4)
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Dinner is probably the most fun Kris has had in a long time. Tao and Kyungsoo are good company and Kyungsoo is generous with the soju, ordering bottle after bottle until they’re all flushed and Kris is sure his Asian glow is showing.
Kyungsoo’s cardigan has fallen half off his shoulder and he leans heavily on Tao who seems to be alternating between stuffing his face and winking lasciviously at a group of girls nearby. Said girls end up joining them for a few more rounds and one of them, a petite brunette with big eyes and gorgeous thighs, makes no secret of her attraction towards Kris, hand sliding higher and higher up his leg as she urges him to take a love shot with her. He briefly considers taking her home-- she’s pretty and it wouldn’t be too hard for him to get excited. But it feels wrong to let someone else into the apartment, let alone fuck them on the same bed that he and Chanyeol had shared. He leaves instead with her number scrawled on his arm as Kyungsoo escorts a thoroughly inebriated and touchy Tao to a taxi.
He’s pleasantly buzzed but his practical side causes him to make a stop at a convenience store to pick up some painkillers and Gatorade because he knows he’s going to be hung-over tomorrow. He’s humming the jazz beat from class earlier when he hears a familiar laugh echo around the mostly empty store. He freezes, hand hovering a few inches over the chocolate bars on display as he hears the familiar voice get closer to where he stands. He shuts his eyes hoping frantically that it isn’t what-- who he thinks it is.
When he reopens them, the first thing he sees is Chanyeol’s hair, dyed over to a warm brown from the previous red. He’s wearing faded dark jeans and that sweater he bought when they went to Paris two years ago and he looks so good it hurts. He’s laughing as he rounds the corner and then he looks up to lock eyes with Yifan.
It’s almost comical how quickly the smile drops off his face, only to be replaced by a look of sheer panic before he schools his features back to neutrality. He looks away quickly, turning to the person he’s with-- “Are you ready to check out? Let’s go.” --and guides them away quickly.
Kris sees Chanyeol’s hand resting on the short male’s waist as he guides him and a hot flash of jealousy rips through him. He wants to run and yank Chanyeol away, pummel his friend into the ground for daring to think he could replace Kris in his life. He’s trembling so badly, he doesn’t notice the store assistant speaking until she’s practically yelling at him. “Sir? Sir, are you okay? Do you need any help?”
He feels a sudden wave of nausea hit him and he stumbles, handing the frightened girl his basket. “Can you check those out--“ he begins before snapping his mouth shut and bolting outside to throw up the contents of his stomach in a nearby bush.
***
He’s never had a three day hangover before but it seems like there’s a first time for everything, his headache following him to work after a weekend spent eating leftover pizza and popping painkillers like candy. He leans his head against the cool metal of the elevator, wondering if he’s getting too old for this (he surreptitiously checks his reflection for grey hairs).
His funk isn’t improved by the sheer incompetence of his underlings in the marketing department, all of whom seem to have decided to call in sick the same day. He has to deal with the asshole executives hounding him about the latest round of product sales and his landlord calls in to tell him that the apartment needs to be fumigated for termites so he’ll have to move out for a week.
It’s Friday and he’s back in the office flipping through consumer survey reports when Luhan waltzes in. Kris appraises the man critically. “You look like a stripper.”
“That’s rich coming from Choi Corporations’ resident Dita Von Teese,” Luhan fires back, adjusting his mesh shirt under the leather jacket and flashing way more skin than Kris ever wanted to see from him. “I’m about to head out and paint the town red. You?”
“Burlesque,” Kris mumbles, rifling through the papers on his desk for the focus group survey. “Then I plan to go home and marathon season four of True Blood.”
“Oh my god, you need help.” Luhan snatches one of the flying pieces of paper out of the air, squinting at it. “Hey, what’s this?”
Kris freezes. “Nothing,” he says, trying to yank it back but Luhan dances out of his reach, surprisingly sprightly for someone wearing skin tight leather.
He cackles maniacally, face getting all gross and wrinkly. “Oh my god, are you planning on becoming a stripper? What are these names?” He reads them aloud exaggeratedly. “Krystaline, Kandy Krush, Krispy Kreme, Mr. Fan-tastic, Fantasia.” He lets out a hyena laugh that swiftly turns into a yelp as Kris tackles him to the ground, snatching the paper away.
“It’s for burlesque; we have to pick stage names.” He mutters ripping the paper into tiny pieces as Luhan gasps for breath from underneath him. He only stands up when the blonde is a mildly concerning shade of white.
Luhan clutches his throat as he stands shakily. “I thought you were going to quit.” He rasps out.
Kris shrugs, pushing him out of the office. “I found a reason to stay, I guess.”
“By the way,” Luhan says shifting uncomfortably in the elevator. “I was talking to Leo the other day. He--” Luhan pauses, giving Kris a gentle look that quite frankly is creepy as hell. “He saw Chanyeol at a restaurant with another guy.”
“Oh,” Krtis intones dully, stabbing an elevator button with more force than is probably necessary. “Okay.”
Luhan squints at him. “You’re awfully calm about this.”
Kris sighs, leaning against the plush wall of the elevator (and immediately withdrawing because ew). “I saw him with the guy on Saturday.”
He can see Luhan’s surprised face in the polished elevator doors. “Wait, where?”
“At the convenience store. He ignored me.”
Luhan winces, hand coming up to rest lightly on Kris shoulder. “Is this why you were in such a snit all weekend?”
“Given the circumstances, I think it was justified.” The doors open with a ding as they reach the ground floor and Luhan looks like he wants to say more but instead he smiles and says, “Have fun at class.” Kris waves and drives off, mentally reviewing burlesque names to ward off his depressing Chanyeol thoughts.
Class is bustling as soon as he arrives and he waves at Tao and Kyungsoo before dropping his stuff in the corner. Kyungsoo has surprisingly ditched his cardigan for today (although Kris is pretty sure his sweatpants have been pressed) and is helping Tao stretch. The tan boy’s eyes keep flickering over to Kai, as he spreads his legs into a wide “V” shape, pouting when Kai doesn’t look over. He jumps to his feet lightly, giving Kris a fist bump in greeting (Kris knows he’s too old for those).
“You excited Big K? We’re using the fans today!” He gestures to a table at the front of the room that’s stacked with the feathered contraptions. Kris shrugs, he honestly isn’t expecting to do any better with the fans than he had with the chair or the boa. He joins in on the stretching, wincing as his calf muscles burn. Tao pokes him in the ribs. “So did you pick one?”
“Pick what?” he mutters, face pressed to his knees. Tao pushes him over and he lets out a grunt as he sprawls on the floor.
Tao perches over him, grin blinding. “Your burlesque name!”
“It’s a secret,” he says, seeing a familiar pair of black shoes enter the classroom from his vantage point in the floor. A chorus of greetings erupt and Minseok responds likewise, weaving his way to the front of the classroom and everyone lines up in rows.
Warm up this week is a bit different, set to the sultry beat of Beyonce’s “Partition” and Kris has difficulty following along to the moves as he keeps getting distracted by Kai’s hips or Minseok’s body rolls. He also learns that anyone who sleeps with Do Kyungsoo should prepare for a hell of a ride since his thrusting technique can only be described as violent.
Once they’re done, Minseok retrieves a set of fans with black feathers from the table. He holds them behind his back, the feathers creating a fan behind him. The class quiets down and Minseok nods at Kai who turns on music.
Minseok demonstrates a short routine with the fans, wielding them gracefully as he spins, creating a large black halo around him. Kris sees how the fans would work in a proper routine, Minseok bringing them up to cover his chest or ass before drawing them away quickly. At the end of the routine, Minseok takes a deep bow before gesturing for his applauding class to sit down. Tao brings him a water bottle and Minseok gives him a pleased smile (kiss-ass Kris thinks uncharitably).
“Alright guys, so we’re going to start with one of the elements that are most commonly associated with burlesque: fans. Every burlesque dancer should have these in their arsenal, even though some might find them harder to master than others.” He makes an unsubtle head swivel towards Kai and the other man mimes kicking him. “The history of burlesque fans is too complicated for me to explain so we’re watching a video. There’s a quiz afterwards so pay attention.”
Kris tries to focus on the video since he’s not quite sure if Minseok is serious about the quiz but his eyes keep straying over to where the instructor is sitting. After a few minutes of flitting his eyes back and forth, he looks and catches Minseok staring back at him. Flushing, he whips his head back and stubbornly stares at the front, face warm.
The video is interesting, tracing the advent of burlesque fans from showgirls like Sally Rand to group fan dances like Burlesque Noir. He and the other students watch in awe asCatherine D’Lish expertly wields the world’s largest fans and his pants get uncomfortably tight as they video ends with footage of Rita Lynch’s “Birds of Paradise” routine. He tries to subtly tug his shirt down over his crotch and Kyungsoo gives him a knowing smirk as he catches the movement. The lights turn back on and Minseok pulls the projection screen back up.
“Right, I’m sure all of you were playing very close attention.” Is he staring at Kris? Oh god, oh god. “You’ve probably gotten a general idea of how the fan dancing will work. Today we’ll focus mostly on getting you acquainted with them and teaching how to start inserting them into basic routines. We’ll be working with these on and off for the rest of the month, so get acquainted with your fans. But first,” Minseok smiles down at his class, picking up a clipboard and a pen. “We’ll need your burlesque names.” There’s a loud round of cheers and Minseok points to a short pink haired boy with the biggest lips Kris has ever seen. “We’ll go alphabetically. Mr. Ahn Daniel, what’s your choice?”
“Niel.” The boy responds promptly and Minseok goes down the list, calling out students names. Some of the names are simple one word but others have some clever wordplay going on, with particularly good ones being rewarded with cheers.
Kyungsoo gets a confused reaction when he announces his. “Well my last name is Do so I was thinking-” Kyungsoo pauses for dramatic effect Kris presumes. “SoDoMe.”
“SoDoMe,” Minseok repeats, “SoDoMe… So Do Me… sodomy!” Minseok burst into laughter and the others follow suit as Kyungsoo mock bows. “Oh that’s a great one.” He writes it on his clipboard chuckling. “What about you, Mr. Huang?”
“Taollipop Von Teese,” Tao responds coolly, setting off another round of laughter. Kris waits nervously as Minseok works down the list, nearly, nearly jumping when his name is finally called.
“Well, Mr.Wu?” Minseok smiles at him clicking his pen. “What will we be referring to you as from now on?”
“Um.” Kris fiddles his with his t-shirt, thankful that his dick has at least shrunk down or this would be even more awkward. “Well, my Chinese name is Yi Fan so I wanted to do something relating to that.” Man up and just say it out loud, Kris. “Yi-Fanteasy.”
There’s loud hoots and he feels some people slap him on the back but he’s more focused on how Minseok is staring at him, eyes wide. The instructor stares him for a few seconds before quietly writing the name down and moving to the next student. “And you, Mr. Yoon?”
Tao nudges him in the side. “Yo, why was Minseok staring at you like that?”
“Probably astonished by how bad my name was,” he mutters, pushing Tao’s face to the side.
Minseok finishes recording the students names and then squints down at the clipboard. “Well, it’s going to be a very interesting group of performers at this year’s showcase, I’m guessing. Right when I call your names-- your stage names-- go up to the table in pairs and select fans. Kai will help you out.” He points at the two in the front row. “Ho-ya and Nio, you two go up.”
Kris waits until he and Kyungsoo are called up, testing all the fans stacked on the table carefully. He hits an immediate problem when some of the handles are too small for him to get a proper grip on with his “dinner plate hands”. Kai hands him a set with long white feathers, with a slightly thicker gripping area. “Try these.”
He does an experimental spin, testing the weight. “These’ll do.”
Once everyone has been handed their fans and the class looks like a poultry-farm pride parade, they get split into two groups to begin training. Kris gets put in the group with Kai and tries not to look disappointed as Minseok leads his batch to another practice room.
His attention is quickly refocused on the moves Kai demonstrates and to his surprise, he discovers he’s not half bad with the fans, using his wide arm span to his advantage and even managing the switches with ease. It’s tiring despite how light the fans are, and near the end of class his muscles are exhausted and he barely has the energy to change, slumping over on the bench to lace up his sneakers as he waves goodbye to Tao. He jumps when the door slams shut, eyes wide as he looks up to meet Minseok’s gaze. The other man stands above him, biting his lips and holds up a hand to silence him when he tries to speak.
“Earlier,” Minseok speaks, voice low, “you said your Chinese name was Yi Fan. Are you....” Kris is holding his breath. “From Guangzhou by any chance?”
Well, it seems like he’s been found out. He stares up at Minseok, wondering how to proceed with this. He’s semi-scared Minseok will be angry because, technically Kris has been lying by omission but at the same time, there’s not many ways to wriggle out of this situation. Plus, worse comes to worst, he can take Minseok in a fight (or at least outrun him).
“Been a while, hasn’t it Mansek?” He watches as Minseok registers the Cantonese, mouth dropping open as he registers what’s just been said. He lifts a hand and punches Kris in the chest. Hard.
“You asshole!” Minseok looks incredulous but he’s grinning now as he sits down beside Kris, pulling him into a headlock. “You knew the entire time, why didn’t you say anything? Bastard.”
Kris laughs at Minseok’s butchered Cantonese pronunciation, shaking the other man off. Minseok is still staring at him, eyes wide. “Now that I’m looking for it, the similarities are coming out but holy shit, you’ve changed dude.” His hands come up to frame Kris’s face, tilting his head to the right. “You fixed your teeth.”
“So did you,” Kris points out, tapping Minseok’s top lip.
Minseok scoffs, slapping his hand away. “But my nose is still real.”
“Why you--“ Kris raises a fist threateningly, and Minseok pushes his hand down, laughing.
“But seriously, what are the odds that we’d meet again, in my burlesque class of all places.“ Minseok shakes his head, a small smile on his face. He holds his hand out. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?” Kris asks even though he’s already handing it over. Minseok enters his number, saving it as “Mansek gor”. He fires off a text to himself before handing it back. “You have my number. I’ll text you the time and place.“
“This is the most unromantic way I’ve ever been asked out,” Kris grumbles while accepting his phone.
Minseok scoffs. “My standards are much higher than that, Wu, even if your surgeon did manage to make you pretty.” He ignores Kris’s indignant sputters, pulling him to his feet. “Hurry up, I need to lock the room.”
They walk to the parking lot, Minseok humming the entire way. They reach his car and Minseok whistles as he takes in the sleek interior. “Damn, you’ve done well for yourself, eh Yi Fan?”
“Do you need a ride?” Kris asks, unlocking the door. It’s late and he feels leery leaving Minseok alone.
The other shakes his head. “Boyfriend’s coming to pick me up. I’ll see you soon okay?” He hesitates, like he’s unsure whether to hug Kris or not and instead gives him a small wave. “Bye.”
“Your Cantonese has gotten terrible,” Kris quips, starting the engine. He returns the wave, smiling at Minseok’s pouty expression. “Bye.” He pulls out of the parking lot, watching Minseok get smaller in his rearview mirror until he’s out of sight.
***
He gets the call two days later, in the midst of an intense blowout with the graphics department that has one logo designer bursting into tears and accusing Kris of not respecting his “art.” He leaves his assistant Yixing to calm the frantic man down as he answers, leaning his head against the cool glass window of his office. “Hello?”
“Yifan?” It takes a second to place the voice and when he does, his heartbeat picks up. “It’s Minseok.”
“Oh, hi.” Smooth. He wipes his suddenly sweaty palms off on his pants, grimacing at the stain. “What’s up?” He is about two decades too old to use that phrase.
“Listen, are you free right now? Want to meet up for lunch?”
“Right now?” He briefly entertains the idea of ditching work early but Yixing will probably poison his tea in retaliation. And then pump his stomach and hold his hand in the ambulance because he’s Yixing, but still. “I’m kind of swamped at work right now, sorry.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” Kris swears he detects a hint of disappointment. “Yeah, I should’ve expected you were busy, sorry to bother.”
Minseok sounds like he’s five seconds from hanging up so Kris decides to take the initiative. “You want to do dinner instead?”
There’s silence on the other end and Kris holds his breath, waiting. “Yeah, sure.” He exhales, shoulders sagging in relief as Minseok continues speaking. “I know a good place, I’ll text you the address. When do you get off?’
“Around seven. I’ll need to go back to my apartment first so how about we meet up around seven-thirty?” Kris sees Luhan walking by and ducks his head down behind a potted plant. “That okay?”
“That’s fine.” Minseok sound more at ease now and it makes him smile. “I’ll see you then I guess. Come hungry!”
He hangs up and Kris grins at his phone until Luhan bangs on his office door. “Oi, we have a meeting to get to.”
Kris does actually manage to sneak out a bit early through some strategic coughing near Yixing who instantly starts fussing and orders him to go home and rest. The extra time comes in handy when he finds himself standing in front of his closet with just a towel, trying to decide what to wear. He kicks at a pair of slacks irritably, rifling through his sweaters. He tries to recall what he used to wear when he and Chanyeol went out (and then cancels that thought because it goes down an unpleasant route). He ends up settling for a pair of black straight-leg jeans and a teal sweater that Amber said made him look like a “luminescent sea god.”
He heads out at seven sharp, programming the directions Minseok texts him into his GPS. It still takes him a while to find the restaurant, a hole-in-the-wall establishment located in Seoul’s Chinatown. He’s early by at least fifteen minutes and spends his time hiding in the small bookshop across from the restaurant, alternating between flipping through comic books and staring outside, eyes on the lookout for a petite, auburn-haired figure. The lady at the bookshop starts side-eyeing him about ten minutes into this but luckily that’s when he sees Minseok so he exits the store, dawdling outside for a few minutes before finally working up the courage to enter.
The air is thick when he enters, steam pouring out from the kitchen, scented with spices and heat, bringing a wave of nostalgia over him. He inhales deeply, scanning the cramped dining area till he sees a small figure waving over at him.
Minseok stands when he approaches. “Hey, you made it.” His hair is down today instead of tied back like it normally is in class and it makes him look even younger, fringe brushing over his eyes.
There’s an awkward moment of the two of them standing, unsure of how to proceed until Minseok gestures to the table and they sit. Minseok snorts as Kris’s legs jostle the table, knees brushing the underside. “Just like in high school, eh?”
“I still maintain the desks were the problem, not me.” Kris shifts, and his leg brushes up against Minseok’s. He freezes and their waitress thankfully picks that moment to walk over, greeting Minseok with a smile. He lets the other man order, trying not to giggle at his semi-butchering of the Cantonese words.
He must not have been as inconspicuous as he thought since Minseok kicks him under the table once the girl leaves. “Stop making fun of me.”
‘I’m not,” Kris insists although he’s having a hard time hiding his grin now. “Your tones are adorable.”
Minseok snorts. “Shut up, I rarely get to speak Canto anymore, of course it’s gotten rusty. Your Korean’s gotten pretty good though.” He leans forward, smile mischievous. “Come a long way from the days you used to call my hyung ‘oppa’.”
It’s Kris’s turn to groan, dropping his head onto the table. “You were all horrible for never correcting me on that. So embarrassing.”
“It was cute! This tall, awkward kid calling him oppa all respectfully.” Minseok taps him on the head. “So? How’ve you been these past-- what, almost eight years?”
It’s almost eerie how easily they manage to slip back into conversation, banter playful and oh-so-familiar except the language has changed. Minseok listens attentively as Kris tells him about university in Canada, how he’d gone into marketing after a shoulder injury sidelined his basketball career, how his mother had opened a small florist shop in Vancouver, how he’d moved to Korea three years prior (although he leaves out his exact reasoning for doing so).
Their food arrives-- fragrant dishes of congee, mung bean soup and brisket making his stomach grumble loudly. As Minseok insists on serving them, he realises he’s been babbling for almost half an hour without ever asking the other man what he’d been doing all these years, which, if Google was anything to go by, was far more interesting than his stories.
He waits till Minseok is down dousing his food in soy sauce (a habit his family had tried to break out of his friend years ago but to no avail), before asking. “Your turn. What have you been up to?”
Minseok shrugs, sipping his soup slowly and letting out a small wince at the heat. He sets his spoon down. “Well, after we moved back to Korea, Minwoogot into Seoul University and Ma set her sights on me going there too. Wanted me to be a doctor.” He’s twisting his napkin between his fingers as he talks and Kris frowns, picking up on the tense set of his shoulders. “I went along with it, didn’t really know what else to do. Ma was dead set against me becoming a dancer so that was a bust. I attended Seoul for two years before dropping out.”
Kris swallows down a mouthful of soup, watching Minseok closely. “Do you… mind if I ask why?”
“Got busted for having an affair with the dean’s son.” Minseok snorts and reaches over to thump Kris’s back as he chokes. “Ease up, Yi Fan.”
“Sorry,” he gasps out, eyes watering. He sips some water. “So. Affair.”
“Yep.” Minseok seems awfully nonchalant about the matter, shrugging as he scoops rice onto his plate. “We got ratted by another student, dragged to the dean, daddy dearest decided his son was innocent and I set out to corrupt him so I got kicked out. He made sure to drag my family in first, to yell about what a heathen I was and recommend they put me in counseling. Got kicked out of the house after that.” He meets Kris’s eyes, a small smile on his face, bitterness dragging the corners down. “I’ve kind of been unofficially disowned.”
There’s silence at the table, because really, how do you respond to that? Kris settles for hesitantly covering Minseok’s hand with his own, in a small gesture of comfort and the elder sighs, leaning his head against his hand. “Sorry, this is kind of a dreary topic to bring up at a reunion dinner.”
“Not at all.” Kris assures him, removing his hand as he goes back to picking at his food. “So, how’d you end up in your current line of work?”
There’s an amused glint in Minseok’s eye as he surveys him over his beer. “Burlesque. Well, Jongin and I were friends from way back and I started teaching part time at his studio while he let me crash at his place. He kept bugging me to go to auditions and I finally did and got a grant to go study in France for two years. My classmates dragged me out to a performance at the Crazy Horse a month after and, well, the rest is history.”
“Crazy Horse?”
Minseok’s eyes light up and he nearly knock over his water glass as he hurries to answer. “Le Crazy Horse de Paris, it’s the world’s most iconic cabaret. It’s this building in Paris with these massive stages and they have these shows with dancers and sometimes magicians...“
He continues to babble excitedly, occasionally spouting off a few phrases in French. Kris barely catches half of what he’s saying but he’d rather watch Minseok, eyes lit up with fervour as he discusses the time he’d gotten tickets to see Dita Von Teese perform, the movements of his hands, lips curled up.
Their waitress slides over and asks if they want to order dessert and it’s only then he realises how it’s been almost two hours and somewhere along the line their legs had become interwoven. Minseok gives no sign of noticing, continuing to go on about aerial silks or some crap. He ends up paying more attention to Minseok’s face than what he’s actually saying, starting visibly when Minseok taps him on the forehead. “S-sorry?”
Minseok grins. “Nah, I’m sorry, I tend to drone on a bit sometimes. Anyways, you ready to head out?” He gestures to the check deposited on the table between them.
“Oh, yeah sure.” He reaches for the check before Minseok snatches it out of his hand.
“I’m older, I’ll pay.”
“That’s not fair.” He insists on trying to tug it back. They end up in a semi-playful wrestling match which Minseok wins by reaching around to tickle at Kris so he loses his grip.
“Hah,” he cheers, handing his card to the waitress. “Can’t believe you never grew out of being ticklish.”
“Can’t believe you never grew at all.” Kris ducks the toothpick Minseok flicks at him. “I get to pay next time, okay?” He pauses. “I mean, assuming you still want to meet up again.” The pattern of the tablecloth is suddenly really fascinating.
“Of course I do.” Minseok stands and he follows suit, calling out goodbyes to the restaurant owner as they leave. “We still have so much to catch up on. I’m still curious as to how the hell you ended up in my burlesque class.”
“Hey,” Kris mocks shoves him. “Is that a crack at my dancing skills?”
“Ah yes,” Minseok deadpans. “How rude of me to insult the Rhythm King of Guangzhou, as voted by the class of 2001.”
Kris groans. “We agreed never to speak of that again.”
“Yeah, like ten years ago. These things have a statute of limitations. Where’s your car?”
“Here.” He leads Minseok to the sleek, black Mercedes, unlocks the doors and Minseok sighs as he slides into the leather seat. “This car is the stuff dreams are made of.”
“Try not to breathe too much, you’ll stain the interior.” Kris jokes, pulling out of the parking lot.
Minseok gives him directions and the drive to his apartment is passed in comfortable silence, Minseok humming along to the radio quietly. They pull up outside a small apartment building and Minseok unbuckles his seatbelt, stretching slowly.
“I’d invite you upstairs, but I think Jongdae’s asleep already.” He says apologetically.
Kris shakes his head. “That’s okay, it’s getting late anyway.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “So Jongdae-- he’s the boyfriend?”
Minseok nods, before opening the door. “You can see him next time, I’m pretty sure he’s dying to meet you too. I kinda haven’t shut up about running into you.” His grin is bashful. “It really was an amazing coincidence.”
“It was.” Kris smiles back at him and there’s no hesitation this time as Minseok leans in for a hug, skinny arms wrapping around his shoulders. Kris responds in kind. It’s awkward with the gearshift between them but it’s still nice and familiar in the best way.
Minseok pulls away first. “See you in class.”
For the first time in weeks, Kris falls asleep without thinking of Chanyeol, mind instead consumed with almond eyes and accented Cantonese as he closes his eyes.
***
“Why so glum today, Fanzi?“ Yifan smiles up at his grandmother as she pets his head, the wrinkled skin of her hands soft against his forehead. He’s in her house this afternoon, completing homework at the big wooden table while she putters around the kitchen, occasionally asking him to take things off the high shelves for her. “That’s my boy,” she says as he hands her a large jar of pickled radish. “Growing big, just like your father.”
“I’m fine, por por,” he replies, stretching. It’s warm in the kitchen and he sniffs the air. “Are you making congee?”
“Hungry? It should be ready soon.” She stirs the pot over the stove. “Where’s your tiny Korean friend?”
“Mansek’s sick, he’s got the flu.” He stabs angrily at his calculator, trying to figure out how to do simultaneous equations. Normally, he’d have Mansek to explain this to him (or, more accurately, to let him copy off of him) and his friend’s absence all week is taking a serious toll on his academic performance.
His grandmother clucks worryingly. “Ah, that poor child; it’s been too cold lately, everyone’s falling ill. He lives close by, doesn’t he?” She scoops the congee into a small container, adding slices of salted pork and egg to it. “Here, take him some of this. Don’t take too long.”
The walk to Mansek’s house is short, the congee bowl keeping his hands warm as he trudges through the snow. He greets Mansek’s brother as he enters, the elder waving at him from his place in front of the TV. “He’s upstairs in his room.”
Mansek looks paler than usual when he answers the door, fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders, the end dragging on the floor behind him.
“You look terrible.” Yifan greets him and Minseok chucks a used tissue at him before waddling back to his bed. Yifan pulls up a chair, depositing the bowl in his lap. “Grandma sent this for you.”
“Oh? Tell her thank you.” Minseok peels off the plastic wrap, sighing at the steam that escapes. “That smells good.” His stuffed nose makes his Canto sound more lispy than usual; it’s almost cute.
“God, I’m starving. Minwoo tried to make me juk earlier-- it’s like the Korean version of congee-- and ended up dumping like, half a kilo of salt in there.” Mansek moans, shovelling bites of the congee into his mouth. “So, what’s been going on in class this week?”
Yifan shrugs, playing with the penguin plushie on Mansek’s bed. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Um, we’re watching this really bad dub of The Patriot in history class because Mr. Li’s out this week too, Mei Lei got her period in gym class and went home crying. I think Meng Jia likes me, she keeps showing up to basketball practice-- hey, stop laughing!” He glares at Mansek whose giggling into his bowl. “You’re not the only one who can get girls, okay. Oh also, Ka Ling was asking for you.”
Mansek chokes on a spoonful, coughing loudly as Yifan thumps him on the back, “Oh, was he?” Mansek chokes out, and Yifan squints at him suspiciously.
“Why are you so red?”
“The food’s spicy.” Mansek insists, eating another mouthful. “Hey, what are these blue bits?”
“Those? Century eggs.”
Mansek stops chewing, eyes wide. “Those are eggs? But they’re blue!”
Yifan shrugs. “Century eggs are aged. My grandma does hers herself.” He points at a piece still floating in the bowl. “This batch is around 3 months old.”
“3 month old egg-- oh dear god.” Mansek hands him the bowl before sprinting out of his bed towards the bathroom. The sound of retching can be heard.
“I’ll just show myself out,” Yifan calls, tiptoeing down the stairs, bowl in hand.
***
Kris finds himself thinking of the dream at work the next day, lips quirking up in recollection. Minseok had never grown to develop a taste for century eggs, much to his grandmother’s chagrin. On impulse, he pulls out his phone to text him, fingers hovering over the send button for well over a minute until he finally presses it.
“Do you remember that time I brought you congee when you were sick and you puked it all up?”
There’s no reply and he spends the next twenty minutes mentally berating himself in the midst of looking over the logo redesigns (Yixing must have been able to talk some sense into the graphic design team, the new logo is blessedly free of any phallic imagery). He’s washing his hands in the bathroom after lunch when his phone vibrates, making him drop the soap. He fishes it out.
“Ugh, don’t remind me, I couldn’t eat egg again for weeks.>_<”
He had never pegged Minseok as the emoticon type.
“It’s not my fault your palette isn’t refined enough for Cantonese delicacies.”
The reply comes faster this time.
“Refined my ass. I’m going to get you back for that.”
He laughs out loud, drawing a sideways glance from Yixing. The short man mutters something in Mandarin that sounds suspiciously like “pay raise”.
“That was ten years ago. Let it go, let it go~”
Luhan is still trying it with the new secretary, he notes as he rounds the corner to his office. Seohyun, who he already suspects to be part android, is oblivious to his co-worker’s desperate attempts at flirting. He pokes Luhan in the butt as he walks past, eliciting a very unmanly shriek.
“This is workplace harassment, I’m calling HR,” Luhan yells but he’s too immersed in his phone to notice. The HR head hates Luhan anyways.
“Do not quote Disney to me, you brat. I neither forgive nor forget transgressions committed against me. You’d better watch your back, Wu.”
“I’m terrified.”
“You should be.”
His good mood is ruined when he sees he has a missed called from a familiar number. He locks himself in his office, before taking a deep breath and dialling.
“Kris?” The voice on the other end is hesitant and he almost hangs up right then.
“Chanyeol.” There’s silence on the other end. “You called?”
“Yeah, um, sorry I knew you were at work but this is kind of important.”
There’s a long pause and Kris feels a frisson of annoyance. “Chanyeol, I have work.”
“Sorry, sorry, um. It’s about our-- your apartment’s lease. I need to set up a meeting with the landlord to get my name removed so, um.” Kris can almost see Chanyeol tugging on his earlobes, a nervous tic of his when he was stressed. “When are you free?”
“Oh,” he responds dully. “This weekend’s okay.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” There’s another awkward silence. “I’ll see you then, I guess. Take care.”
Chanyeol hangs up first and Kris throws his phone onto the sofa, sighing loudly as he runs his hands through his hair. A small, very realistic part of him had expected something like this eventually, but the larger part is still unwilling to tackle the more practical aspects of breaking up with Chanyeol; he’s still barely gotten through the emotional aspect.
He pours himself some coffee, wincing at the putrid smell. Maybe if the next quarter profits are up, he can request a better blend.
It’s pathetic and almost embarrassingly cliché but he heads straight down to the liquor store after clocking out, a bottle of vodka and a six pack of beer making it into his cart. The girl behind the counter is blatantly judging him but he can’t be arsed to care.
He debates whether to start in his car but he’s not quite stupid enough to drink and drive, even if the Mercedes is insured. He cracks open the vodka bottle in the elevator of his apartment building, wincing at the sharp burn. He’s a quarter of the way through the bottle by the time the elevator reaches the twelfth floor.
He works his way through the beer cans while reclining on the sofa, still in his work clothes. He flips through channels idly, pausing when he comes upon a familiar-looking movie. He squints trying to recall where he’d seen it before.
“Showgirls!” he slurs out as a half-naked woman writhes on screen. Ah, this movie.
In what will end up being a much-regretted decision, he pulls his phone out to text Minseok, cursing as he accidentally switches from the Korean keyboard to the English one.
“Showgirls is on.”
The reply comes fast; he’s surprised Minseok is still awake.
“That’s…interesting.”
“We watched it together the first time remember?”
“Are you on some weird reminiscence kick? Yeah, I remember, we found the tape under Minwoo’s bed right?”
“He nearly beat this shit out of us when he found out we’d watched it.”
“To be fair, we were 11.”
Kris snorts, remembering how both of them had cowered under Minwoo’s rage, the elder alternating between threatening to castrate them if they told his mother about the tape and berating them for watching obscene content.
They’d honestly been searching for money when they’d been in Minwoo’s room but Minseok had found the tape and insisted they see what was so secretive about it. They’d expected a horror movie or something, not strippers. Kris had blushed and fidgeted throughout the viewing, because boobs and lots of them whereas Minseok had been fascinated by the dances. They’d actually been found out when Minwoo had caught him trying to use a streetlight as a stripper pole.
“Good times.”
“Are you drunk, Yifan?”
“Just a bit.”
He curses when he sees he’s written the message half in Cantonese.
He’s not expecting his phone to ring, nearly dropping it as he scrambles to answer. “Hello?” he drawls out, alcohol lowering the already deep timbre of his voice.
There’s laughter on the other end. “Oh my god, you are drunk.” There’s amusement in Minseok’s tone and he giggles for no reason, eliciting another round of laughs from the other end. “What’s the occasion?”
“Nothing really.” Why is the ceiling moving? “It’s the weekend.”
“Most people go out to drink socially.” There’s no judgement in Minseok’s tone, only teasing and Kris teases right back.
“Well then, why are you still awake?”
“Plotting a new aerials routine. Jongdae’s out with friends so nothing much else to do.” He hears scuffling and Minseok cooing at something. “Sorry, Jojo is a bit attention-starved.”
“Jojo?”
“Oh, she’s our baby; hold on let me send you a picture.”
His phone vibrates and he opens it to see a picture of Minseok holding a fluffy toy poodle, making a peace sign at the camera. He’s less concerned with the dog and more with the fact that Minseok is shirtless.
“She’s cute.”
“Isn’t she? Speaking of which, I need to take her out for her night walk now. Don’t drink too much Fanzai, we have class tomorrow.”
“I’m out anyways.” He kicks at an empty beer can by the sofa.
“Good night, Yifan.”
“Night, Min.” He hears the line go dead and lets his phone drop to the floor, rolling over onto his back. He falls asleep to the sound of Elizabeth Berkley moaning in the background.
***
He really, really hates himself in the morning when he’s woken up by the persistent ringing of his phone. Groaning, he reaches for it, cringing at the sticky residue of sweat on his skin. “Hello?”
“Kris?” He nearly curses out loud when he hears Chanyeol. “It’s Chanyeol. We had the meeting today?”
“Shit.” He hisses out, glancing at the clock. He’s at least fifteen minutes late. “Sorry, I’ll be right down.” He stumbles up from the couch, letting out a pathetic moan as the room spins.
He doesn’t have time for a shower, so he resorts to quickly changing and splashing some water on his face. He looks like hell, eye bags prominent, roots in desperate need of a touch up and he’s got a very attractive case of post-binge bloating going on. He stumbles to the elevator, taking it down to his landlord’s office on the ground floor.
Chanyeol is already seated in front of Mr. Song’s desk, fingers tapping a nervous beat on his knee. His eyes widen when he takes in Kris’s disheveled appearance but thankfully he doesn’t comment on it, only offering him a shy smile.
Kris nods stiffly, and sits slowly, head still too tender for any fast movements. “I’m sorry for my lateness. Long night at the office.”
Mr. Song waves his hand dismissively. “It’s no matter, this can be dealt with easily. Mr. Park told me he’s planning on moving out.”
“Already have.” Chanyeol corrects and Kris flinches at how easily he can say that. “This is just to make it official on paper.”
“I see.” Mr. Song hands both of them some papers. “According to the agreement, Mr. Park, you need to give one month’s notice prior to getting removed from the lease and pay your half of that month’s rent.”
“Understood.” Chanyeol produces a check, placing it face down on the desk.
“And Mr. Wu, you have no objections to him being removed from the leasing agreement. Any damages he may need to compensate for?”
“No,” Kris mutters, voice low.
“Well, then all we need is for the two of you to sign off and the deed is done. Or undone so to speak.” Mr. Song smiles at his own joke. “It’s a pity, you were some of our easiest tenants. It’ll be strange for you two as well, I suppose, you’ve been roommates since college right? Ah, I guess bachelor life can only last so long.” He stands. “I’ll leave you two to look over those forms. Excuse me.”
He exits and Kris focuses on the forms in front of him, words swimming on the page. He studiously avoids all eye contact with Chanyeol; the less the other sees of his appearance the better.
He flinches back when a glass of water comes into his field of vision. Chanyeol offers it to him, a hesitant smile on his face and he can’t bring it to himself to reject it. He murmurs his thanks before drinking.
“So.” Chanyeol turns to face him, fingers still drumming away. “How have you been?”
“Fine.” His reply is curt and he sees Chanyeol shy back slightly. The other looks good, he notes begrudgingly, red hair pushed up off his forehead, clad in dark jeans and a blue button up. He must have had his new boyfriend iron it; Kris knew all too well Chanyeol’s incompetency at the task.
“Sorry to spring this on you out of the blue, I didn’t give you enough time to find a new roommate.” Chanyeol tries again.
“I can handle the rent.” It will put a dent in his finances but maybe he needs to reduce his drinking budget anyways.
“Oh.” The silence is awkward and Kris decides it’s time to leave. He leans over the desk and scrawls his signature onto the forms, handing them to the other.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go somewhere soon, so if we’re all done here.” It feels ridiculous talking to his partner of five years like this, words stiff and formal and he cringes inwardly. Chanyeol takes the forms and he gets up to leave, the loud screech of the chair legs sending a fresh jolt of pain to his skull.
“Kris,” Chanyeol calls after him, voice low. “I know you’re angry with me right now, but I still want us to be in each other’s lives.” He looks up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “We were friends before, I think we can manage to go back to that eventually.”
“Five years,” Kris says, staring over Chanyeol’s head at framed certificates on the wall. “Five years I’ve known you and I was your lover for four of those. I don’t think I’m well versed enough in being just your friend.”
It’s a strange type of feeling in his chest when he gets back to his apartment, not quite of anger or sadness, but more of a sense of finality that weighs him down. He strips off his clothes to shower after downing two aspirin. He checks his phone, ignoring a reminder from Yixing and instead pulls up the picture Minseok sent him last night, letting out a small smile when it comes onscreen. He saves it as a contact image.
His hangover has calmed down somewhat by the time its evening and he needs to head to burlesque. He drives to the dance studio, feeling strangely excited at the prospect of working with the fans again. Somewhere along these past three weeks, burlesque had gone from being a coerced hobby to something he legitimately enjoys.
He’s early today, only the two instructors and Tao already present. Tao gives him a small wave, before going back to his unsubtle attempts at flirtation with Kai under the guise of helping him bring the fans out of storage. Minseok meanwhile, takes Kris’s hand and drags him out the door.
“Easy,” he groans, as Minseok pushes the doors open and they’re greeted by cool air. “What’s going on?”
Minseok ignores him, dragging him across the street to the small market. “Sit over there,” he instructs before heading to a vendor.
Kris watches him go, admiring the pale curve of his calves in his black shorts. He reprimands himself internally; Minseok has a boyfriend and no idea that Kris is even into dudes so he needs to tone down the ogling (but in return Minseok needs to stop wearing those goddamned low-cut tank tops).
He pulls out his phone to take a picture of a freakishly large ladybug beside him on the bench. He feels small hands cover his eyes from behind and he squints. “Am I supposed to guess who?”
“Nope.” Minseok’s voice comes from behind him, and oh, his chest is pressing against Kris’s back, warm and solid. “You need to guess what.”
He feels a spoon prod at his lips and he purses them, turning his head away. “Are you trying to poison me?”
“Oh don’t be a baby. Eat them, they’re good for hangovers.” The spoon is back and this time he acquiesces and opens his mouth.
Whatever he’s eating is crunchy and tastes like bland tofu. He swallows, gagging slightly. “Okay, what is that?”
Minseok removes his hand. “Beondegi.”
He stares at the cup of steaming silkworm pupae in horror. “You did not!”
Minseok pushes him away and runs across the street cackling, Kris chasing behind him. “Oh revenge is sweet!”
“You little--” Kris huffs as he chases after Minseok through the halls of the studio. He manages to tackle him and they both go down in a pile of flailing limbs.
Minseok shrieks, trying in vain to tickle him as they roll around on the floor. They stop when they hear a pointedly loud “ahem” from above them. A bemused Kai gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “We have class, children.”
Kris climbs to his feet, tugging Minseok up with him. Like chastised children they make their way to the now full classroom, Kia shutting the door behind him. Kris makes his way over to Tao and Kyungsoo and Minseok winks at him as he makes his way to the front.
“Okay, how’s everyone today?” he calls out, nodding at the affirmative yells. “Okay, so today’s the second class with the fans and next week are our last classes of the month. Now, does anyone remember why that’s so important?”
“Solo work!” Tao pipes up from the back, practically bouncing in his seat. Minseok makes a finger pistol and mock-shoots it at him. “Good job, Taollipop. Yes, starting from next month, all of you will be preparing solo sets for an in-class recital. The best ones will be voted on and those performers will work individually with us for the center showcase. Now you’re a beginner’s class so we’re not expecting you to pull out all the stops, this is just a way for you guys to take what you’ve learnt and start putting it towards actual stage performances. Now, everyone go get your fans, we’re learning a new routine today.”
Kris is pleased to find that his dexterity with the fans last class hadn’t been a mere fluke, he can still wield them with ease, much to the frustration of Tao who struggles to do more than pose with his. Their dance routines have been increasing in difficulty with each class and it takes all his concentration to focus on the steps, on where his feet need to go, how to manoeuvre around the chair without dropping the fans. He’s sweated through his shirt by the break and it’s with great relief that he puts his fans down to get water. Kyungsoo helps him stretch, pulling his leg taut and tickling the back of his knees, making Yifan kick out at him. Their roughhousing gets interrupted by a small commotion towards the center of the room, Kai and Minseok surrounded by a small group of students. Kyungsoo tugs him up and they join the others. Kai is laughing as a group of students push him towards the stripper pole, loudly calling for a demonstration. He tries to brush them off, protesting “I don’t have my equipment!” but Minseok chucks a ball of chalk at him. After chalking up his hands and legs (Tao squeaks beside Kris when Kai runs it over his thighs) he grips the pole with one hand before moving in a slow, circle. He lifts himself off the ground with ease, using his momentum to swing round before flipping himself upside down, toes pointed. He climbs up the pole fluidly, locking his ankles and using them to support his upper body, before spreading his legs in a wide V. He holds the pose for a second before dropping to the ground, groaning that his muscles are too tired for this. He gets a smattering of applause and he points at Minseok. “Make him do it too.”
Everyone’s focus turns to Minseok who good naturedly pulls off his hoodie. “Pole dancing really isn’t my specialty, that’s aerial silks but I’m not half bad.” He chucks his hoodie at Kris. “Hold onto that for me.”
Minseok and Kai have different techniques on the pole, Kai moving with agility and fierceness that shows in his movement, fluid and unrestrained. Minseok’s are tighter and more controlled, his spins smaller and his poses less complicated but it’s no less fascinating to watch as he contorts himself into positions that make Kris wince, his muscles tense as he supports himself, hair flopping into his eyes. They’re also pretty damn arousing to watch, Minseok’s shirt riding up to reveal smooth, pale skin and a defined stomach, milk thighs wrapped tight around a pole. He also makes up with his lack of technical expertise with sheer showmanship, winking at the assembled audience and blowing a kiss as he supports himself with one hand in the flag position. Minseok ends with a sharp drop to the ground before going into the splits and Kai mutters “show off” beside him.
Kyungsoo who’d been watching all this, pipes up from beside them. “Can I give it a go?”
Kai eyes him warily. “I don’t know SoDoMe, there’s a high risk of injury for beginner, and we usually don’t introduce the pole till level three.”
“He can handle it.” Tao chimes in and Kyungsoo takes the proffered chalk ball, smearing the white powder over his palms. He turns to Minseok “Can you put on some music?” Minseok scrolls through his ipod and the opening strains of “Tainted love” fill the room.
Kyungsoo is-well to put it bluntly, phenomenal. The quiet, unassuming home economics teacher is replaced by a dynamic performer who writhes and flips his way through a routine. Everyone watches him slack-jawed and there’s thunderous applause at the end and Tao screeches “Oppa marry me!” from the back. Kai is watching Kyungsoo with an intrigued expression. “How many years have you been spinning?”
“Around four. Bit out of practice though.” Kyungsoo wipes off his palms on his t-shirt, leaving white stains behind.
“Well, I think we can make an exception for the beginners rule and let you do a pole-centric routine for your solo.” Minseok interjects, from where he’d suddenly migrated next to Kris, arm pressing into his side. Kai pulls Kyungsoo away and the other students disperse. Minseok nudges him in the side, shark elbow digging into his ribs and Kris grunts, pushing him away. “So do you have any secret talents I should know about? Did you take up gymnastic in this past decade or something?”
“My athletic ability is as limited as you remember it.” Kris assures him and Minseok snorts, giving him a once-over.
“I could tell.” He squirms away from the pinch Kris aims for his waist. “Hey, do you want to go get something to eat after class?”
“Sure.” Kris replies.
Kai calls everyone back in and they split up into groups to practice. Kris is paired with stern-faced Taekwoon (Le-Oh) and Sungjong (Lemon candy), an elfin boy who has some impressive fluidity. It’s fun and they manage to get a fairly decent routine set out although Kris and Taekwoon have to veto Sungjong’s idea of juggling their fans because of the potential concussions. They get called to perform in front of the room and Kris sees Minseok hide a smile behind his palm as he stumbles out of step sequence. Class ends soon after and he changes out of his sweaty shirt, waving goodbye to the others. He’s getting to be on good terms with his fellow students and Tao has practically declared him his blood brother. He waves off the younger’s attempts at getting him to come clubbing before heading to the parking lot. Minseok is already inside his car, feet up on the dashboard. He gapes at him through the window, and Minseok rolls it down. “Evening, sir.”
“How on earth did you get into my car?”
Minsoek brandishes a set of keys. “Took these while you were practising. Now come on.” He unlocks the door before sliding into the driver’s seat. Kris climbs in beside him.
“Be careful with my baby.” Kris chides, eyeing him warily.
“Oh hush, I’m sure you’re insured.” Minseok starts up the car, pulling them out of parking. “God this thing handles like a dream.”
“It has heated seats too.” It’s amusing how excitable Minseok is over the car constantly, fiddling with the buttons on the radio, gaping when a small tv descends from the roof. He looks like a kid in a candy store, an image further reinforced by him having to sit on his gym bag to be able to see over the steering wheel. “Why is this damn thing so high?”
“Well, both of us were over six feet so we needed to get the car adjusted.”
Minseok looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “Both of us? You mean your girlfriend?”
Oops. “Um yeah.”
“Interesting. She must be one tall lady.” Minseok parks outside a small café. “Tell me more about her.”
Kris fumbles together a story about his “girlfriend” Chanmi over coffee and pastries. Minseok asks a lot of questions and its nerve-wracking trying to formulate authentic sounding lies to answer. He takes advantage of a lull in the conversation to steer the topic away from him. “So, how did you and Jongdae meet?”
“Ah.” Minseok traces the rim of his glass with a slim finger. “A short while after I came back from France. He came to one of my first shows in Itaewon and it kinda just set off from there.” He shrugs. “He works for an overseas shipping company so he isn’t around all that much.”
“That sounds-” Lonely is what he wants to say but it seem slightly hypocritical coming from him of all people. “Rough.”
Minseok sighs, placing his head on his forearms. “It is but it’s what we have to do.” He props his head up on his fists. “Actually, I’m glad you could come out tonight, I really didn’t want to be home alone. Jojo’s cute but not much company. Mostly she drools.”
“Yeah, I get what you mean. Chanmi hasn’t been around much either, she has- um, family stuff to take care of right now.”
“Well, we can be two lonely not-bachelors together.” Minseok pokes him in the nose with the edge of his straw, brown eyes a soft hazel in the dim light of the café. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Go ahead.” Kris pokes him back with an éclair, leaving a smear of whipped cream across one cheek.
Minseok makes no move to clean it off, eyes still fixed on him. “I was- kind of surprised at how, um, accepting you are about the whole-” He makes vague hand motion. “Gay thing.”
“Oh.” Kris wasn’t expecting this. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I mean, it’s not like that.” Minseok assures him, placing a hand over his. “It’s just- when I first told you about it, you seemed accepting but then you started avoiding me.” His fingers curl gently around Kris’ wrist. “I thought maybe that’s why you never kept in touch after moving away.”
It’s suddenly too hot in this café, Minseok’s gaze too heavy and Kris wants to pull away but that probably won’t help matters but at the same time, this is a topic he doesn’t want to go anywhere near to. “It- it wasn’t like that, it was just- growing up? You hung out with the dance club and I was with the basketball kids and the dynamic changed. It wasn’t because you liked boys.”
“I see.” Minseok’s tone is kind and Kris sneaks a peek up at him through his fringe. He moves his hand away and stands. “Should we head out?”
Minseok is subdued on the drive to his apartment and he hugs him briefly when they arrive before climbing out. Kris watches him go, frowning at the downward slope of Minseok’s shoulders, he looks so tired and fragile and Kris just wants to take him home, to take care of him.
***
next →
Dinner is probably the most fun Kris has had in a long time. Tao and Kyungsoo are good company and Kyungsoo is generous with the soju, ordering bottle after bottle until they’re all flushed and Kris is sure his Asian glow is showing.
Kyungsoo’s cardigan has fallen half off his shoulder and he leans heavily on Tao who seems to be alternating between stuffing his face and winking lasciviously at a group of girls nearby. Said girls end up joining them for a few more rounds and one of them, a petite brunette with big eyes and gorgeous thighs, makes no secret of her attraction towards Kris, hand sliding higher and higher up his leg as she urges him to take a love shot with her. He briefly considers taking her home-- she’s pretty and it wouldn’t be too hard for him to get excited. But it feels wrong to let someone else into the apartment, let alone fuck them on the same bed that he and Chanyeol had shared. He leaves instead with her number scrawled on his arm as Kyungsoo escorts a thoroughly inebriated and touchy Tao to a taxi.
He’s pleasantly buzzed but his practical side causes him to make a stop at a convenience store to pick up some painkillers and Gatorade because he knows he’s going to be hung-over tomorrow. He’s humming the jazz beat from class earlier when he hears a familiar laugh echo around the mostly empty store. He freezes, hand hovering a few inches over the chocolate bars on display as he hears the familiar voice get closer to where he stands. He shuts his eyes hoping frantically that it isn’t what-- who he thinks it is.
When he reopens them, the first thing he sees is Chanyeol’s hair, dyed over to a warm brown from the previous red. He’s wearing faded dark jeans and that sweater he bought when they went to Paris two years ago and he looks so good it hurts. He’s laughing as he rounds the corner and then he looks up to lock eyes with Yifan.
It’s almost comical how quickly the smile drops off his face, only to be replaced by a look of sheer panic before he schools his features back to neutrality. He looks away quickly, turning to the person he’s with-- “Are you ready to check out? Let’s go.” --and guides them away quickly.
Kris sees Chanyeol’s hand resting on the short male’s waist as he guides him and a hot flash of jealousy rips through him. He wants to run and yank Chanyeol away, pummel his friend into the ground for daring to think he could replace Kris in his life. He’s trembling so badly, he doesn’t notice the store assistant speaking until she’s practically yelling at him. “Sir? Sir, are you okay? Do you need any help?”
He feels a sudden wave of nausea hit him and he stumbles, handing the frightened girl his basket. “Can you check those out--“ he begins before snapping his mouth shut and bolting outside to throw up the contents of his stomach in a nearby bush.
***
He’s never had a three day hangover before but it seems like there’s a first time for everything, his headache following him to work after a weekend spent eating leftover pizza and popping painkillers like candy. He leans his head against the cool metal of the elevator, wondering if he’s getting too old for this (he surreptitiously checks his reflection for grey hairs).
His funk isn’t improved by the sheer incompetence of his underlings in the marketing department, all of whom seem to have decided to call in sick the same day. He has to deal with the asshole executives hounding him about the latest round of product sales and his landlord calls in to tell him that the apartment needs to be fumigated for termites so he’ll have to move out for a week.
It’s Friday and he’s back in the office flipping through consumer survey reports when Luhan waltzes in. Kris appraises the man critically. “You look like a stripper.”
“That’s rich coming from Choi Corporations’ resident Dita Von Teese,” Luhan fires back, adjusting his mesh shirt under the leather jacket and flashing way more skin than Kris ever wanted to see from him. “I’m about to head out and paint the town red. You?”
“Burlesque,” Kris mumbles, rifling through the papers on his desk for the focus group survey. “Then I plan to go home and marathon season four of True Blood.”
“Oh my god, you need help.” Luhan snatches one of the flying pieces of paper out of the air, squinting at it. “Hey, what’s this?”
Kris freezes. “Nothing,” he says, trying to yank it back but Luhan dances out of his reach, surprisingly sprightly for someone wearing skin tight leather.
He cackles maniacally, face getting all gross and wrinkly. “Oh my god, are you planning on becoming a stripper? What are these names?” He reads them aloud exaggeratedly. “Krystaline, Kandy Krush, Krispy Kreme, Mr. Fan-tastic, Fantasia.” He lets out a hyena laugh that swiftly turns into a yelp as Kris tackles him to the ground, snatching the paper away.
“It’s for burlesque; we have to pick stage names.” He mutters ripping the paper into tiny pieces as Luhan gasps for breath from underneath him. He only stands up when the blonde is a mildly concerning shade of white.
Luhan clutches his throat as he stands shakily. “I thought you were going to quit.” He rasps out.
Kris shrugs, pushing him out of the office. “I found a reason to stay, I guess.”
“By the way,” Luhan says shifting uncomfortably in the elevator. “I was talking to Leo the other day. He--” Luhan pauses, giving Kris a gentle look that quite frankly is creepy as hell. “He saw Chanyeol at a restaurant with another guy.”
“Oh,” Krtis intones dully, stabbing an elevator button with more force than is probably necessary. “Okay.”
Luhan squints at him. “You’re awfully calm about this.”
Kris sighs, leaning against the plush wall of the elevator (and immediately withdrawing because ew). “I saw him with the guy on Saturday.”
He can see Luhan’s surprised face in the polished elevator doors. “Wait, where?”
“At the convenience store. He ignored me.”
Luhan winces, hand coming up to rest lightly on Kris shoulder. “Is this why you were in such a snit all weekend?”
“Given the circumstances, I think it was justified.” The doors open with a ding as they reach the ground floor and Luhan looks like he wants to say more but instead he smiles and says, “Have fun at class.” Kris waves and drives off, mentally reviewing burlesque names to ward off his depressing Chanyeol thoughts.
Class is bustling as soon as he arrives and he waves at Tao and Kyungsoo before dropping his stuff in the corner. Kyungsoo has surprisingly ditched his cardigan for today (although Kris is pretty sure his sweatpants have been pressed) and is helping Tao stretch. The tan boy’s eyes keep flickering over to Kai, as he spreads his legs into a wide “V” shape, pouting when Kai doesn’t look over. He jumps to his feet lightly, giving Kris a fist bump in greeting (Kris knows he’s too old for those).
“You excited Big K? We’re using the fans today!” He gestures to a table at the front of the room that’s stacked with the feathered contraptions. Kris shrugs, he honestly isn’t expecting to do any better with the fans than he had with the chair or the boa. He joins in on the stretching, wincing as his calf muscles burn. Tao pokes him in the ribs. “So did you pick one?”
“Pick what?” he mutters, face pressed to his knees. Tao pushes him over and he lets out a grunt as he sprawls on the floor.
Tao perches over him, grin blinding. “Your burlesque name!”
“It’s a secret,” he says, seeing a familiar pair of black shoes enter the classroom from his vantage point in the floor. A chorus of greetings erupt and Minseok responds likewise, weaving his way to the front of the classroom and everyone lines up in rows.
Warm up this week is a bit different, set to the sultry beat of Beyonce’s “Partition” and Kris has difficulty following along to the moves as he keeps getting distracted by Kai’s hips or Minseok’s body rolls. He also learns that anyone who sleeps with Do Kyungsoo should prepare for a hell of a ride since his thrusting technique can only be described as violent.
Once they’re done, Minseok retrieves a set of fans with black feathers from the table. He holds them behind his back, the feathers creating a fan behind him. The class quiets down and Minseok nods at Kai who turns on music.
Minseok demonstrates a short routine with the fans, wielding them gracefully as he spins, creating a large black halo around him. Kris sees how the fans would work in a proper routine, Minseok bringing them up to cover his chest or ass before drawing them away quickly. At the end of the routine, Minseok takes a deep bow before gesturing for his applauding class to sit down. Tao brings him a water bottle and Minseok gives him a pleased smile (kiss-ass Kris thinks uncharitably).
“Alright guys, so we’re going to start with one of the elements that are most commonly associated with burlesque: fans. Every burlesque dancer should have these in their arsenal, even though some might find them harder to master than others.” He makes an unsubtle head swivel towards Kai and the other man mimes kicking him. “The history of burlesque fans is too complicated for me to explain so we’re watching a video. There’s a quiz afterwards so pay attention.”
Kris tries to focus on the video since he’s not quite sure if Minseok is serious about the quiz but his eyes keep straying over to where the instructor is sitting. After a few minutes of flitting his eyes back and forth, he looks and catches Minseok staring back at him. Flushing, he whips his head back and stubbornly stares at the front, face warm.
The video is interesting, tracing the advent of burlesque fans from showgirls like Sally Rand to group fan dances like Burlesque Noir. He and the other students watch in awe asCatherine D’Lish expertly wields the world’s largest fans and his pants get uncomfortably tight as they video ends with footage of Rita Lynch’s “Birds of Paradise” routine. He tries to subtly tug his shirt down over his crotch and Kyungsoo gives him a knowing smirk as he catches the movement. The lights turn back on and Minseok pulls the projection screen back up.
“Right, I’m sure all of you were playing very close attention.” Is he staring at Kris? Oh god, oh god. “You’ve probably gotten a general idea of how the fan dancing will work. Today we’ll focus mostly on getting you acquainted with them and teaching how to start inserting them into basic routines. We’ll be working with these on and off for the rest of the month, so get acquainted with your fans. But first,” Minseok smiles down at his class, picking up a clipboard and a pen. “We’ll need your burlesque names.” There’s a loud round of cheers and Minseok points to a short pink haired boy with the biggest lips Kris has ever seen. “We’ll go alphabetically. Mr. Ahn Daniel, what’s your choice?”
“Niel.” The boy responds promptly and Minseok goes down the list, calling out students names. Some of the names are simple one word but others have some clever wordplay going on, with particularly good ones being rewarded with cheers.
Kyungsoo gets a confused reaction when he announces his. “Well my last name is Do so I was thinking-” Kyungsoo pauses for dramatic effect Kris presumes. “SoDoMe.”
“SoDoMe,” Minseok repeats, “SoDoMe… So Do Me… sodomy!” Minseok burst into laughter and the others follow suit as Kyungsoo mock bows. “Oh that’s a great one.” He writes it on his clipboard chuckling. “What about you, Mr. Huang?”
“Taollipop Von Teese,” Tao responds coolly, setting off another round of laughter. Kris waits nervously as Minseok works down the list, nearly, nearly jumping when his name is finally called.
“Well, Mr.Wu?” Minseok smiles at him clicking his pen. “What will we be referring to you as from now on?”
“Um.” Kris fiddles his with his t-shirt, thankful that his dick has at least shrunk down or this would be even more awkward. “Well, my Chinese name is Yi Fan so I wanted to do something relating to that.” Man up and just say it out loud, Kris. “Yi-Fanteasy.”
There’s loud hoots and he feels some people slap him on the back but he’s more focused on how Minseok is staring at him, eyes wide. The instructor stares him for a few seconds before quietly writing the name down and moving to the next student. “And you, Mr. Yoon?”
Tao nudges him in the side. “Yo, why was Minseok staring at you like that?”
“Probably astonished by how bad my name was,” he mutters, pushing Tao’s face to the side.
Minseok finishes recording the students names and then squints down at the clipboard. “Well, it’s going to be a very interesting group of performers at this year’s showcase, I’m guessing. Right when I call your names-- your stage names-- go up to the table in pairs and select fans. Kai will help you out.” He points at the two in the front row. “Ho-ya and Nio, you two go up.”
Kris waits until he and Kyungsoo are called up, testing all the fans stacked on the table carefully. He hits an immediate problem when some of the handles are too small for him to get a proper grip on with his “dinner plate hands”. Kai hands him a set with long white feathers, with a slightly thicker gripping area. “Try these.”
He does an experimental spin, testing the weight. “These’ll do.”
Once everyone has been handed their fans and the class looks like a poultry-farm pride parade, they get split into two groups to begin training. Kris gets put in the group with Kai and tries not to look disappointed as Minseok leads his batch to another practice room.
His attention is quickly refocused on the moves Kai demonstrates and to his surprise, he discovers he’s not half bad with the fans, using his wide arm span to his advantage and even managing the switches with ease. It’s tiring despite how light the fans are, and near the end of class his muscles are exhausted and he barely has the energy to change, slumping over on the bench to lace up his sneakers as he waves goodbye to Tao. He jumps when the door slams shut, eyes wide as he looks up to meet Minseok’s gaze. The other man stands above him, biting his lips and holds up a hand to silence him when he tries to speak.
“Earlier,” Minseok speaks, voice low, “you said your Chinese name was Yi Fan. Are you....” Kris is holding his breath. “From Guangzhou by any chance?”
Well, it seems like he’s been found out. He stares up at Minseok, wondering how to proceed with this. He’s semi-scared Minseok will be angry because, technically Kris has been lying by omission but at the same time, there’s not many ways to wriggle out of this situation. Plus, worse comes to worst, he can take Minseok in a fight (or at least outrun him).
“Been a while, hasn’t it Mansek?” He watches as Minseok registers the Cantonese, mouth dropping open as he registers what’s just been said. He lifts a hand and punches Kris in the chest. Hard.
“You asshole!” Minseok looks incredulous but he’s grinning now as he sits down beside Kris, pulling him into a headlock. “You knew the entire time, why didn’t you say anything? Bastard.”
Kris laughs at Minseok’s butchered Cantonese pronunciation, shaking the other man off. Minseok is still staring at him, eyes wide. “Now that I’m looking for it, the similarities are coming out but holy shit, you’ve changed dude.” His hands come up to frame Kris’s face, tilting his head to the right. “You fixed your teeth.”
“So did you,” Kris points out, tapping Minseok’s top lip.
Minseok scoffs, slapping his hand away. “But my nose is still real.”
“Why you--“ Kris raises a fist threateningly, and Minseok pushes his hand down, laughing.
“But seriously, what are the odds that we’d meet again, in my burlesque class of all places.“ Minseok shakes his head, a small smile on his face. He holds his hand out. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?” Kris asks even though he’s already handing it over. Minseok enters his number, saving it as “Mansek gor”. He fires off a text to himself before handing it back. “You have my number. I’ll text you the time and place.“
“This is the most unromantic way I’ve ever been asked out,” Kris grumbles while accepting his phone.
Minseok scoffs. “My standards are much higher than that, Wu, even if your surgeon did manage to make you pretty.” He ignores Kris’s indignant sputters, pulling him to his feet. “Hurry up, I need to lock the room.”
They walk to the parking lot, Minseok humming the entire way. They reach his car and Minseok whistles as he takes in the sleek interior. “Damn, you’ve done well for yourself, eh Yi Fan?”
“Do you need a ride?” Kris asks, unlocking the door. It’s late and he feels leery leaving Minseok alone.
The other shakes his head. “Boyfriend’s coming to pick me up. I’ll see you soon okay?” He hesitates, like he’s unsure whether to hug Kris or not and instead gives him a small wave. “Bye.”
“Your Cantonese has gotten terrible,” Kris quips, starting the engine. He returns the wave, smiling at Minseok’s pouty expression. “Bye.” He pulls out of the parking lot, watching Minseok get smaller in his rearview mirror until he’s out of sight.
***
He gets the call two days later, in the midst of an intense blowout with the graphics department that has one logo designer bursting into tears and accusing Kris of not respecting his “art.” He leaves his assistant Yixing to calm the frantic man down as he answers, leaning his head against the cool glass window of his office. “Hello?”
“Yifan?” It takes a second to place the voice and when he does, his heartbeat picks up. “It’s Minseok.”
“Oh, hi.” Smooth. He wipes his suddenly sweaty palms off on his pants, grimacing at the stain. “What’s up?” He is about two decades too old to use that phrase.
“Listen, are you free right now? Want to meet up for lunch?”
“Right now?” He briefly entertains the idea of ditching work early but Yixing will probably poison his tea in retaliation. And then pump his stomach and hold his hand in the ambulance because he’s Yixing, but still. “I’m kind of swamped at work right now, sorry.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” Kris swears he detects a hint of disappointment. “Yeah, I should’ve expected you were busy, sorry to bother.”
Minseok sounds like he’s five seconds from hanging up so Kris decides to take the initiative. “You want to do dinner instead?”
There’s silence on the other end and Kris holds his breath, waiting. “Yeah, sure.” He exhales, shoulders sagging in relief as Minseok continues speaking. “I know a good place, I’ll text you the address. When do you get off?’
“Around seven. I’ll need to go back to my apartment first so how about we meet up around seven-thirty?” Kris sees Luhan walking by and ducks his head down behind a potted plant. “That okay?”
“That’s fine.” Minseok sound more at ease now and it makes him smile. “I’ll see you then I guess. Come hungry!”
He hangs up and Kris grins at his phone until Luhan bangs on his office door. “Oi, we have a meeting to get to.”
Kris does actually manage to sneak out a bit early through some strategic coughing near Yixing who instantly starts fussing and orders him to go home and rest. The extra time comes in handy when he finds himself standing in front of his closet with just a towel, trying to decide what to wear. He kicks at a pair of slacks irritably, rifling through his sweaters. He tries to recall what he used to wear when he and Chanyeol went out (and then cancels that thought because it goes down an unpleasant route). He ends up settling for a pair of black straight-leg jeans and a teal sweater that Amber said made him look like a “luminescent sea god.”
He heads out at seven sharp, programming the directions Minseok texts him into his GPS. It still takes him a while to find the restaurant, a hole-in-the-wall establishment located in Seoul’s Chinatown. He’s early by at least fifteen minutes and spends his time hiding in the small bookshop across from the restaurant, alternating between flipping through comic books and staring outside, eyes on the lookout for a petite, auburn-haired figure. The lady at the bookshop starts side-eyeing him about ten minutes into this but luckily that’s when he sees Minseok so he exits the store, dawdling outside for a few minutes before finally working up the courage to enter.
The air is thick when he enters, steam pouring out from the kitchen, scented with spices and heat, bringing a wave of nostalgia over him. He inhales deeply, scanning the cramped dining area till he sees a small figure waving over at him.
Minseok stands when he approaches. “Hey, you made it.” His hair is down today instead of tied back like it normally is in class and it makes him look even younger, fringe brushing over his eyes.
There’s an awkward moment of the two of them standing, unsure of how to proceed until Minseok gestures to the table and they sit. Minseok snorts as Kris’s legs jostle the table, knees brushing the underside. “Just like in high school, eh?”
“I still maintain the desks were the problem, not me.” Kris shifts, and his leg brushes up against Minseok’s. He freezes and their waitress thankfully picks that moment to walk over, greeting Minseok with a smile. He lets the other man order, trying not to giggle at his semi-butchering of the Cantonese words.
He must not have been as inconspicuous as he thought since Minseok kicks him under the table once the girl leaves. “Stop making fun of me.”
‘I’m not,” Kris insists although he’s having a hard time hiding his grin now. “Your tones are adorable.”
Minseok snorts. “Shut up, I rarely get to speak Canto anymore, of course it’s gotten rusty. Your Korean’s gotten pretty good though.” He leans forward, smile mischievous. “Come a long way from the days you used to call my hyung ‘oppa’.”
It’s Kris’s turn to groan, dropping his head onto the table. “You were all horrible for never correcting me on that. So embarrassing.”
“It was cute! This tall, awkward kid calling him oppa all respectfully.” Minseok taps him on the head. “So? How’ve you been these past-- what, almost eight years?”
It’s almost eerie how easily they manage to slip back into conversation, banter playful and oh-so-familiar except the language has changed. Minseok listens attentively as Kris tells him about university in Canada, how he’d gone into marketing after a shoulder injury sidelined his basketball career, how his mother had opened a small florist shop in Vancouver, how he’d moved to Korea three years prior (although he leaves out his exact reasoning for doing so).
Their food arrives-- fragrant dishes of congee, mung bean soup and brisket making his stomach grumble loudly. As Minseok insists on serving them, he realises he’s been babbling for almost half an hour without ever asking the other man what he’d been doing all these years, which, if Google was anything to go by, was far more interesting than his stories.
He waits till Minseok is down dousing his food in soy sauce (a habit his family had tried to break out of his friend years ago but to no avail), before asking. “Your turn. What have you been up to?”
Minseok shrugs, sipping his soup slowly and letting out a small wince at the heat. He sets his spoon down. “Well, after we moved back to Korea, Minwoogot into Seoul University and Ma set her sights on me going there too. Wanted me to be a doctor.” He’s twisting his napkin between his fingers as he talks and Kris frowns, picking up on the tense set of his shoulders. “I went along with it, didn’t really know what else to do. Ma was dead set against me becoming a dancer so that was a bust. I attended Seoul for two years before dropping out.”
Kris swallows down a mouthful of soup, watching Minseok closely. “Do you… mind if I ask why?”
“Got busted for having an affair with the dean’s son.” Minseok snorts and reaches over to thump Kris’s back as he chokes. “Ease up, Yi Fan.”
“Sorry,” he gasps out, eyes watering. He sips some water. “So. Affair.”
“Yep.” Minseok seems awfully nonchalant about the matter, shrugging as he scoops rice onto his plate. “We got ratted by another student, dragged to the dean, daddy dearest decided his son was innocent and I set out to corrupt him so I got kicked out. He made sure to drag my family in first, to yell about what a heathen I was and recommend they put me in counseling. Got kicked out of the house after that.” He meets Kris’s eyes, a small smile on his face, bitterness dragging the corners down. “I’ve kind of been unofficially disowned.”
There’s silence at the table, because really, how do you respond to that? Kris settles for hesitantly covering Minseok’s hand with his own, in a small gesture of comfort and the elder sighs, leaning his head against his hand. “Sorry, this is kind of a dreary topic to bring up at a reunion dinner.”
“Not at all.” Kris assures him, removing his hand as he goes back to picking at his food. “So, how’d you end up in your current line of work?”
There’s an amused glint in Minseok’s eye as he surveys him over his beer. “Burlesque. Well, Jongin and I were friends from way back and I started teaching part time at his studio while he let me crash at his place. He kept bugging me to go to auditions and I finally did and got a grant to go study in France for two years. My classmates dragged me out to a performance at the Crazy Horse a month after and, well, the rest is history.”
“Crazy Horse?”
Minseok’s eyes light up and he nearly knock over his water glass as he hurries to answer. “Le Crazy Horse de Paris, it’s the world’s most iconic cabaret. It’s this building in Paris with these massive stages and they have these shows with dancers and sometimes magicians...“
He continues to babble excitedly, occasionally spouting off a few phrases in French. Kris barely catches half of what he’s saying but he’d rather watch Minseok, eyes lit up with fervour as he discusses the time he’d gotten tickets to see Dita Von Teese perform, the movements of his hands, lips curled up.
Their waitress slides over and asks if they want to order dessert and it’s only then he realises how it’s been almost two hours and somewhere along the line their legs had become interwoven. Minseok gives no sign of noticing, continuing to go on about aerial silks or some crap. He ends up paying more attention to Minseok’s face than what he’s actually saying, starting visibly when Minseok taps him on the forehead. “S-sorry?”
Minseok grins. “Nah, I’m sorry, I tend to drone on a bit sometimes. Anyways, you ready to head out?” He gestures to the check deposited on the table between them.
“Oh, yeah sure.” He reaches for the check before Minseok snatches it out of his hand.
“I’m older, I’ll pay.”
“That’s not fair.” He insists on trying to tug it back. They end up in a semi-playful wrestling match which Minseok wins by reaching around to tickle at Kris so he loses his grip.
“Hah,” he cheers, handing his card to the waitress. “Can’t believe you never grew out of being ticklish.”
“Can’t believe you never grew at all.” Kris ducks the toothpick Minseok flicks at him. “I get to pay next time, okay?” He pauses. “I mean, assuming you still want to meet up again.” The pattern of the tablecloth is suddenly really fascinating.
“Of course I do.” Minseok stands and he follows suit, calling out goodbyes to the restaurant owner as they leave. “We still have so much to catch up on. I’m still curious as to how the hell you ended up in my burlesque class.”
“Hey,” Kris mocks shoves him. “Is that a crack at my dancing skills?”
“Ah yes,” Minseok deadpans. “How rude of me to insult the Rhythm King of Guangzhou, as voted by the class of 2001.”
Kris groans. “We agreed never to speak of that again.”
“Yeah, like ten years ago. These things have a statute of limitations. Where’s your car?”
“Here.” He leads Minseok to the sleek, black Mercedes, unlocks the doors and Minseok sighs as he slides into the leather seat. “This car is the stuff dreams are made of.”
“Try not to breathe too much, you’ll stain the interior.” Kris jokes, pulling out of the parking lot.
Minseok gives him directions and the drive to his apartment is passed in comfortable silence, Minseok humming along to the radio quietly. They pull up outside a small apartment building and Minseok unbuckles his seatbelt, stretching slowly.
“I’d invite you upstairs, but I think Jongdae’s asleep already.” He says apologetically.
Kris shakes his head. “That’s okay, it’s getting late anyway.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “So Jongdae-- he’s the boyfriend?”
Minseok nods, before opening the door. “You can see him next time, I’m pretty sure he’s dying to meet you too. I kinda haven’t shut up about running into you.” His grin is bashful. “It really was an amazing coincidence.”
“It was.” Kris smiles back at him and there’s no hesitation this time as Minseok leans in for a hug, skinny arms wrapping around his shoulders. Kris responds in kind. It’s awkward with the gearshift between them but it’s still nice and familiar in the best way.
Minseok pulls away first. “See you in class.”
For the first time in weeks, Kris falls asleep without thinking of Chanyeol, mind instead consumed with almond eyes and accented Cantonese as he closes his eyes.
***
“Why so glum today, Fanzi?“ Yifan smiles up at his grandmother as she pets his head, the wrinkled skin of her hands soft against his forehead. He’s in her house this afternoon, completing homework at the big wooden table while she putters around the kitchen, occasionally asking him to take things off the high shelves for her. “That’s my boy,” she says as he hands her a large jar of pickled radish. “Growing big, just like your father.”
“I’m fine, por por,” he replies, stretching. It’s warm in the kitchen and he sniffs the air. “Are you making congee?”
“Hungry? It should be ready soon.” She stirs the pot over the stove. “Where’s your tiny Korean friend?”
“Mansek’s sick, he’s got the flu.” He stabs angrily at his calculator, trying to figure out how to do simultaneous equations. Normally, he’d have Mansek to explain this to him (or, more accurately, to let him copy off of him) and his friend’s absence all week is taking a serious toll on his academic performance.
His grandmother clucks worryingly. “Ah, that poor child; it’s been too cold lately, everyone’s falling ill. He lives close by, doesn’t he?” She scoops the congee into a small container, adding slices of salted pork and egg to it. “Here, take him some of this. Don’t take too long.”
The walk to Mansek’s house is short, the congee bowl keeping his hands warm as he trudges through the snow. He greets Mansek’s brother as he enters, the elder waving at him from his place in front of the TV. “He’s upstairs in his room.”
Mansek looks paler than usual when he answers the door, fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders, the end dragging on the floor behind him.
“You look terrible.” Yifan greets him and Minseok chucks a used tissue at him before waddling back to his bed. Yifan pulls up a chair, depositing the bowl in his lap. “Grandma sent this for you.”
“Oh? Tell her thank you.” Minseok peels off the plastic wrap, sighing at the steam that escapes. “That smells good.” His stuffed nose makes his Canto sound more lispy than usual; it’s almost cute.
“God, I’m starving. Minwoo tried to make me juk earlier-- it’s like the Korean version of congee-- and ended up dumping like, half a kilo of salt in there.” Mansek moans, shovelling bites of the congee into his mouth. “So, what’s been going on in class this week?”
Yifan shrugs, playing with the penguin plushie on Mansek’s bed. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Um, we’re watching this really bad dub of The Patriot in history class because Mr. Li’s out this week too, Mei Lei got her period in gym class and went home crying. I think Meng Jia likes me, she keeps showing up to basketball practice-- hey, stop laughing!” He glares at Mansek whose giggling into his bowl. “You’re not the only one who can get girls, okay. Oh also, Ka Ling was asking for you.”
Mansek chokes on a spoonful, coughing loudly as Yifan thumps him on the back, “Oh, was he?” Mansek chokes out, and Yifan squints at him suspiciously.
“Why are you so red?”
“The food’s spicy.” Mansek insists, eating another mouthful. “Hey, what are these blue bits?”
“Those? Century eggs.”
Mansek stops chewing, eyes wide. “Those are eggs? But they’re blue!”
Yifan shrugs. “Century eggs are aged. My grandma does hers herself.” He points at a piece still floating in the bowl. “This batch is around 3 months old.”
“3 month old egg-- oh dear god.” Mansek hands him the bowl before sprinting out of his bed towards the bathroom. The sound of retching can be heard.
“I’ll just show myself out,” Yifan calls, tiptoeing down the stairs, bowl in hand.
***
Kris finds himself thinking of the dream at work the next day, lips quirking up in recollection. Minseok had never grown to develop a taste for century eggs, much to his grandmother’s chagrin. On impulse, he pulls out his phone to text him, fingers hovering over the send button for well over a minute until he finally presses it.
“Do you remember that time I brought you congee when you were sick and you puked it all up?”
There’s no reply and he spends the next twenty minutes mentally berating himself in the midst of looking over the logo redesigns (Yixing must have been able to talk some sense into the graphic design team, the new logo is blessedly free of any phallic imagery). He’s washing his hands in the bathroom after lunch when his phone vibrates, making him drop the soap. He fishes it out.
“Ugh, don’t remind me, I couldn’t eat egg again for weeks.>_<”
He had never pegged Minseok as the emoticon type.
“It’s not my fault your palette isn’t refined enough for Cantonese delicacies.”
The reply comes faster this time.
“Refined my ass. I’m going to get you back for that.”
He laughs out loud, drawing a sideways glance from Yixing. The short man mutters something in Mandarin that sounds suspiciously like “pay raise”.
“That was ten years ago. Let it go, let it go~”
Luhan is still trying it with the new secretary, he notes as he rounds the corner to his office. Seohyun, who he already suspects to be part android, is oblivious to his co-worker’s desperate attempts at flirting. He pokes Luhan in the butt as he walks past, eliciting a very unmanly shriek.
“This is workplace harassment, I’m calling HR,” Luhan yells but he’s too immersed in his phone to notice. The HR head hates Luhan anyways.
“Do not quote Disney to me, you brat. I neither forgive nor forget transgressions committed against me. You’d better watch your back, Wu.”
“I’m terrified.”
“You should be.”
His good mood is ruined when he sees he has a missed called from a familiar number. He locks himself in his office, before taking a deep breath and dialling.
“Kris?” The voice on the other end is hesitant and he almost hangs up right then.
“Chanyeol.” There’s silence on the other end. “You called?”
“Yeah, um, sorry I knew you were at work but this is kind of important.”
There’s a long pause and Kris feels a frisson of annoyance. “Chanyeol, I have work.”
“Sorry, sorry, um. It’s about our-- your apartment’s lease. I need to set up a meeting with the landlord to get my name removed so, um.” Kris can almost see Chanyeol tugging on his earlobes, a nervous tic of his when he was stressed. “When are you free?”
“Oh,” he responds dully. “This weekend’s okay.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” There’s another awkward silence. “I’ll see you then, I guess. Take care.”
Chanyeol hangs up first and Kris throws his phone onto the sofa, sighing loudly as he runs his hands through his hair. A small, very realistic part of him had expected something like this eventually, but the larger part is still unwilling to tackle the more practical aspects of breaking up with Chanyeol; he’s still barely gotten through the emotional aspect.
He pours himself some coffee, wincing at the putrid smell. Maybe if the next quarter profits are up, he can request a better blend.
It’s pathetic and almost embarrassingly cliché but he heads straight down to the liquor store after clocking out, a bottle of vodka and a six pack of beer making it into his cart. The girl behind the counter is blatantly judging him but he can’t be arsed to care.
He debates whether to start in his car but he’s not quite stupid enough to drink and drive, even if the Mercedes is insured. He cracks open the vodka bottle in the elevator of his apartment building, wincing at the sharp burn. He’s a quarter of the way through the bottle by the time the elevator reaches the twelfth floor.
He works his way through the beer cans while reclining on the sofa, still in his work clothes. He flips through channels idly, pausing when he comes upon a familiar-looking movie. He squints trying to recall where he’d seen it before.
“Showgirls!” he slurs out as a half-naked woman writhes on screen. Ah, this movie.
In what will end up being a much-regretted decision, he pulls his phone out to text Minseok, cursing as he accidentally switches from the Korean keyboard to the English one.
“Showgirls is on.”
The reply comes fast; he’s surprised Minseok is still awake.
“That’s…interesting.”
“We watched it together the first time remember?”
“Are you on some weird reminiscence kick? Yeah, I remember, we found the tape under Minwoo’s bed right?”
“He nearly beat this shit out of us when he found out we’d watched it.”
“To be fair, we were 11.”
Kris snorts, remembering how both of them had cowered under Minwoo’s rage, the elder alternating between threatening to castrate them if they told his mother about the tape and berating them for watching obscene content.
They’d honestly been searching for money when they’d been in Minwoo’s room but Minseok had found the tape and insisted they see what was so secretive about it. They’d expected a horror movie or something, not strippers. Kris had blushed and fidgeted throughout the viewing, because boobs and lots of them whereas Minseok had been fascinated by the dances. They’d actually been found out when Minwoo had caught him trying to use a streetlight as a stripper pole.
“Good times.”
“Are you drunk, Yifan?”
“Just a bit.”
He curses when he sees he’s written the message half in Cantonese.
He’s not expecting his phone to ring, nearly dropping it as he scrambles to answer. “Hello?” he drawls out, alcohol lowering the already deep timbre of his voice.
There’s laughter on the other end. “Oh my god, you are drunk.” There’s amusement in Minseok’s tone and he giggles for no reason, eliciting another round of laughs from the other end. “What’s the occasion?”
“Nothing really.” Why is the ceiling moving? “It’s the weekend.”
“Most people go out to drink socially.” There’s no judgement in Minseok’s tone, only teasing and Kris teases right back.
“Well then, why are you still awake?”
“Plotting a new aerials routine. Jongdae’s out with friends so nothing much else to do.” He hears scuffling and Minseok cooing at something. “Sorry, Jojo is a bit attention-starved.”
“Jojo?”
“Oh, she’s our baby; hold on let me send you a picture.”
His phone vibrates and he opens it to see a picture of Minseok holding a fluffy toy poodle, making a peace sign at the camera. He’s less concerned with the dog and more with the fact that Minseok is shirtless.
“She’s cute.”
“Isn’t she? Speaking of which, I need to take her out for her night walk now. Don’t drink too much Fanzai, we have class tomorrow.”
“I’m out anyways.” He kicks at an empty beer can by the sofa.
“Good night, Yifan.”
“Night, Min.” He hears the line go dead and lets his phone drop to the floor, rolling over onto his back. He falls asleep to the sound of Elizabeth Berkley moaning in the background.
***
He really, really hates himself in the morning when he’s woken up by the persistent ringing of his phone. Groaning, he reaches for it, cringing at the sticky residue of sweat on his skin. “Hello?”
“Kris?” He nearly curses out loud when he hears Chanyeol. “It’s Chanyeol. We had the meeting today?”
“Shit.” He hisses out, glancing at the clock. He’s at least fifteen minutes late. “Sorry, I’ll be right down.” He stumbles up from the couch, letting out a pathetic moan as the room spins.
He doesn’t have time for a shower, so he resorts to quickly changing and splashing some water on his face. He looks like hell, eye bags prominent, roots in desperate need of a touch up and he’s got a very attractive case of post-binge bloating going on. He stumbles to the elevator, taking it down to his landlord’s office on the ground floor.
Chanyeol is already seated in front of Mr. Song’s desk, fingers tapping a nervous beat on his knee. His eyes widen when he takes in Kris’s disheveled appearance but thankfully he doesn’t comment on it, only offering him a shy smile.
Kris nods stiffly, and sits slowly, head still too tender for any fast movements. “I’m sorry for my lateness. Long night at the office.”
Mr. Song waves his hand dismissively. “It’s no matter, this can be dealt with easily. Mr. Park told me he’s planning on moving out.”
“Already have.” Chanyeol corrects and Kris flinches at how easily he can say that. “This is just to make it official on paper.”
“I see.” Mr. Song hands both of them some papers. “According to the agreement, Mr. Park, you need to give one month’s notice prior to getting removed from the lease and pay your half of that month’s rent.”
“Understood.” Chanyeol produces a check, placing it face down on the desk.
“And Mr. Wu, you have no objections to him being removed from the leasing agreement. Any damages he may need to compensate for?”
“No,” Kris mutters, voice low.
“Well, then all we need is for the two of you to sign off and the deed is done. Or undone so to speak.” Mr. Song smiles at his own joke. “It’s a pity, you were some of our easiest tenants. It’ll be strange for you two as well, I suppose, you’ve been roommates since college right? Ah, I guess bachelor life can only last so long.” He stands. “I’ll leave you two to look over those forms. Excuse me.”
He exits and Kris focuses on the forms in front of him, words swimming on the page. He studiously avoids all eye contact with Chanyeol; the less the other sees of his appearance the better.
He flinches back when a glass of water comes into his field of vision. Chanyeol offers it to him, a hesitant smile on his face and he can’t bring it to himself to reject it. He murmurs his thanks before drinking.
“So.” Chanyeol turns to face him, fingers still drumming away. “How have you been?”
“Fine.” His reply is curt and he sees Chanyeol shy back slightly. The other looks good, he notes begrudgingly, red hair pushed up off his forehead, clad in dark jeans and a blue button up. He must have had his new boyfriend iron it; Kris knew all too well Chanyeol’s incompetency at the task.
“Sorry to spring this on you out of the blue, I didn’t give you enough time to find a new roommate.” Chanyeol tries again.
“I can handle the rent.” It will put a dent in his finances but maybe he needs to reduce his drinking budget anyways.
“Oh.” The silence is awkward and Kris decides it’s time to leave. He leans over the desk and scrawls his signature onto the forms, handing them to the other.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go somewhere soon, so if we’re all done here.” It feels ridiculous talking to his partner of five years like this, words stiff and formal and he cringes inwardly. Chanyeol takes the forms and he gets up to leave, the loud screech of the chair legs sending a fresh jolt of pain to his skull.
“Kris,” Chanyeol calls after him, voice low. “I know you’re angry with me right now, but I still want us to be in each other’s lives.” He looks up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “We were friends before, I think we can manage to go back to that eventually.”
“Five years,” Kris says, staring over Chanyeol’s head at framed certificates on the wall. “Five years I’ve known you and I was your lover for four of those. I don’t think I’m well versed enough in being just your friend.”
It’s a strange type of feeling in his chest when he gets back to his apartment, not quite of anger or sadness, but more of a sense of finality that weighs him down. He strips off his clothes to shower after downing two aspirin. He checks his phone, ignoring a reminder from Yixing and instead pulls up the picture Minseok sent him last night, letting out a small smile when it comes onscreen. He saves it as a contact image.
His hangover has calmed down somewhat by the time its evening and he needs to head to burlesque. He drives to the dance studio, feeling strangely excited at the prospect of working with the fans again. Somewhere along these past three weeks, burlesque had gone from being a coerced hobby to something he legitimately enjoys.
He’s early today, only the two instructors and Tao already present. Tao gives him a small wave, before going back to his unsubtle attempts at flirtation with Kai under the guise of helping him bring the fans out of storage. Minseok meanwhile, takes Kris’s hand and drags him out the door.
“Easy,” he groans, as Minseok pushes the doors open and they’re greeted by cool air. “What’s going on?”
Minseok ignores him, dragging him across the street to the small market. “Sit over there,” he instructs before heading to a vendor.
Kris watches him go, admiring the pale curve of his calves in his black shorts. He reprimands himself internally; Minseok has a boyfriend and no idea that Kris is even into dudes so he needs to tone down the ogling (but in return Minseok needs to stop wearing those goddamned low-cut tank tops).
He pulls out his phone to take a picture of a freakishly large ladybug beside him on the bench. He feels small hands cover his eyes from behind and he squints. “Am I supposed to guess who?”
“Nope.” Minseok’s voice comes from behind him, and oh, his chest is pressing against Kris’s back, warm and solid. “You need to guess what.”
He feels a spoon prod at his lips and he purses them, turning his head away. “Are you trying to poison me?”
“Oh don’t be a baby. Eat them, they’re good for hangovers.” The spoon is back and this time he acquiesces and opens his mouth.
Whatever he’s eating is crunchy and tastes like bland tofu. He swallows, gagging slightly. “Okay, what is that?”
Minseok removes his hand. “Beondegi.”
He stares at the cup of steaming silkworm pupae in horror. “You did not!”
Minseok pushes him away and runs across the street cackling, Kris chasing behind him. “Oh revenge is sweet!”
“You little--” Kris huffs as he chases after Minseok through the halls of the studio. He manages to tackle him and they both go down in a pile of flailing limbs.
Minseok shrieks, trying in vain to tickle him as they roll around on the floor. They stop when they hear a pointedly loud “ahem” from above them. A bemused Kai gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “We have class, children.”
Kris climbs to his feet, tugging Minseok up with him. Like chastised children they make their way to the now full classroom, Kia shutting the door behind him. Kris makes his way over to Tao and Kyungsoo and Minseok winks at him as he makes his way to the front.
“Okay, how’s everyone today?” he calls out, nodding at the affirmative yells. “Okay, so today’s the second class with the fans and next week are our last classes of the month. Now, does anyone remember why that’s so important?”
“Solo work!” Tao pipes up from the back, practically bouncing in his seat. Minseok makes a finger pistol and mock-shoots it at him. “Good job, Taollipop. Yes, starting from next month, all of you will be preparing solo sets for an in-class recital. The best ones will be voted on and those performers will work individually with us for the center showcase. Now you’re a beginner’s class so we’re not expecting you to pull out all the stops, this is just a way for you guys to take what you’ve learnt and start putting it towards actual stage performances. Now, everyone go get your fans, we’re learning a new routine today.”
Kris is pleased to find that his dexterity with the fans last class hadn’t been a mere fluke, he can still wield them with ease, much to the frustration of Tao who struggles to do more than pose with his. Their dance routines have been increasing in difficulty with each class and it takes all his concentration to focus on the steps, on where his feet need to go, how to manoeuvre around the chair without dropping the fans. He’s sweated through his shirt by the break and it’s with great relief that he puts his fans down to get water. Kyungsoo helps him stretch, pulling his leg taut and tickling the back of his knees, making Yifan kick out at him. Their roughhousing gets interrupted by a small commotion towards the center of the room, Kai and Minseok surrounded by a small group of students. Kyungsoo tugs him up and they join the others. Kai is laughing as a group of students push him towards the stripper pole, loudly calling for a demonstration. He tries to brush them off, protesting “I don’t have my equipment!” but Minseok chucks a ball of chalk at him. After chalking up his hands and legs (Tao squeaks beside Kris when Kai runs it over his thighs) he grips the pole with one hand before moving in a slow, circle. He lifts himself off the ground with ease, using his momentum to swing round before flipping himself upside down, toes pointed. He climbs up the pole fluidly, locking his ankles and using them to support his upper body, before spreading his legs in a wide V. He holds the pose for a second before dropping to the ground, groaning that his muscles are too tired for this. He gets a smattering of applause and he points at Minseok. “Make him do it too.”
Everyone’s focus turns to Minseok who good naturedly pulls off his hoodie. “Pole dancing really isn’t my specialty, that’s aerial silks but I’m not half bad.” He chucks his hoodie at Kris. “Hold onto that for me.”
Minseok and Kai have different techniques on the pole, Kai moving with agility and fierceness that shows in his movement, fluid and unrestrained. Minseok’s are tighter and more controlled, his spins smaller and his poses less complicated but it’s no less fascinating to watch as he contorts himself into positions that make Kris wince, his muscles tense as he supports himself, hair flopping into his eyes. They’re also pretty damn arousing to watch, Minseok’s shirt riding up to reveal smooth, pale skin and a defined stomach, milk thighs wrapped tight around a pole. He also makes up with his lack of technical expertise with sheer showmanship, winking at the assembled audience and blowing a kiss as he supports himself with one hand in the flag position. Minseok ends with a sharp drop to the ground before going into the splits and Kai mutters “show off” beside him.
Kyungsoo who’d been watching all this, pipes up from beside them. “Can I give it a go?”
Kai eyes him warily. “I don’t know SoDoMe, there’s a high risk of injury for beginner, and we usually don’t introduce the pole till level three.”
“He can handle it.” Tao chimes in and Kyungsoo takes the proffered chalk ball, smearing the white powder over his palms. He turns to Minseok “Can you put on some music?” Minseok scrolls through his ipod and the opening strains of “Tainted love” fill the room.
Kyungsoo is-well to put it bluntly, phenomenal. The quiet, unassuming home economics teacher is replaced by a dynamic performer who writhes and flips his way through a routine. Everyone watches him slack-jawed and there’s thunderous applause at the end and Tao screeches “Oppa marry me!” from the back. Kai is watching Kyungsoo with an intrigued expression. “How many years have you been spinning?”
“Around four. Bit out of practice though.” Kyungsoo wipes off his palms on his t-shirt, leaving white stains behind.
“Well, I think we can make an exception for the beginners rule and let you do a pole-centric routine for your solo.” Minseok interjects, from where he’d suddenly migrated next to Kris, arm pressing into his side. Kai pulls Kyungsoo away and the other students disperse. Minseok nudges him in the side, shark elbow digging into his ribs and Kris grunts, pushing him away. “So do you have any secret talents I should know about? Did you take up gymnastic in this past decade or something?”
“My athletic ability is as limited as you remember it.” Kris assures him and Minseok snorts, giving him a once-over.
“I could tell.” He squirms away from the pinch Kris aims for his waist. “Hey, do you want to go get something to eat after class?”
“Sure.” Kris replies.
Kai calls everyone back in and they split up into groups to practice. Kris is paired with stern-faced Taekwoon (Le-Oh) and Sungjong (Lemon candy), an elfin boy who has some impressive fluidity. It’s fun and they manage to get a fairly decent routine set out although Kris and Taekwoon have to veto Sungjong’s idea of juggling their fans because of the potential concussions. They get called to perform in front of the room and Kris sees Minseok hide a smile behind his palm as he stumbles out of step sequence. Class ends soon after and he changes out of his sweaty shirt, waving goodbye to the others. He’s getting to be on good terms with his fellow students and Tao has practically declared him his blood brother. He waves off the younger’s attempts at getting him to come clubbing before heading to the parking lot. Minseok is already inside his car, feet up on the dashboard. He gapes at him through the window, and Minseok rolls it down. “Evening, sir.”
“How on earth did you get into my car?”
Minsoek brandishes a set of keys. “Took these while you were practising. Now come on.” He unlocks the door before sliding into the driver’s seat. Kris climbs in beside him.
“Be careful with my baby.” Kris chides, eyeing him warily.
“Oh hush, I’m sure you’re insured.” Minseok starts up the car, pulling them out of parking. “God this thing handles like a dream.”
“It has heated seats too.” It’s amusing how excitable Minseok is over the car constantly, fiddling with the buttons on the radio, gaping when a small tv descends from the roof. He looks like a kid in a candy store, an image further reinforced by him having to sit on his gym bag to be able to see over the steering wheel. “Why is this damn thing so high?”
“Well, both of us were over six feet so we needed to get the car adjusted.”
Minseok looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “Both of us? You mean your girlfriend?”
Oops. “Um yeah.”
“Interesting. She must be one tall lady.” Minseok parks outside a small café. “Tell me more about her.”
Kris fumbles together a story about his “girlfriend” Chanmi over coffee and pastries. Minseok asks a lot of questions and its nerve-wracking trying to formulate authentic sounding lies to answer. He takes advantage of a lull in the conversation to steer the topic away from him. “So, how did you and Jongdae meet?”
“Ah.” Minseok traces the rim of his glass with a slim finger. “A short while after I came back from France. He came to one of my first shows in Itaewon and it kinda just set off from there.” He shrugs. “He works for an overseas shipping company so he isn’t around all that much.”
“That sounds-” Lonely is what he wants to say but it seem slightly hypocritical coming from him of all people. “Rough.”
Minseok sighs, placing his head on his forearms. “It is but it’s what we have to do.” He props his head up on his fists. “Actually, I’m glad you could come out tonight, I really didn’t want to be home alone. Jojo’s cute but not much company. Mostly she drools.”
“Yeah, I get what you mean. Chanmi hasn’t been around much either, she has- um, family stuff to take care of right now.”
“Well, we can be two lonely not-bachelors together.” Minseok pokes him in the nose with the edge of his straw, brown eyes a soft hazel in the dim light of the café. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Go ahead.” Kris pokes him back with an éclair, leaving a smear of whipped cream across one cheek.
Minseok makes no move to clean it off, eyes still fixed on him. “I was- kind of surprised at how, um, accepting you are about the whole-” He makes vague hand motion. “Gay thing.”
“Oh.” Kris wasn’t expecting this. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I mean, it’s not like that.” Minseok assures him, placing a hand over his. “It’s just- when I first told you about it, you seemed accepting but then you started avoiding me.” His fingers curl gently around Kris’ wrist. “I thought maybe that’s why you never kept in touch after moving away.”
It’s suddenly too hot in this café, Minseok’s gaze too heavy and Kris wants to pull away but that probably won’t help matters but at the same time, this is a topic he doesn’t want to go anywhere near to. “It- it wasn’t like that, it was just- growing up? You hung out with the dance club and I was with the basketball kids and the dynamic changed. It wasn’t because you liked boys.”
“I see.” Minseok’s tone is kind and Kris sneaks a peek up at him through his fringe. He moves his hand away and stands. “Should we head out?”
Minseok is subdued on the drive to his apartment and he hugs him briefly when they arrive before climbing out. Kris watches him go, frowning at the downward slope of Minseok’s shoulders, he looks so tired and fragile and Kris just wants to take him home, to take care of him.
***
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