Heart Abroad, Part 12
Title: Heart Abroad
Pairings/Characters: Jaejoong/Yamapi
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Yamapi graduates university and takes a gap year to teach Japanese at a Korean high school. A lot of things happen, like life and friendship, and love.
A/N: Excuse the snark. It's been that kind of a day.
Heart Abroad, Part 12
It’s Thursday evening and they're seated on opposite ends of a small booth in a dimly lit izakaya, or whatever they're called in Korean, talking comfortably over half empty beers. Yamapi's tired, hungover from all the makgeolli, and a little uneasy around the edges. In one short month he's learned to be a little wary of Erika's "wonderful surprises" and "excellent terrific ideas", so that must be why his stomach is tying itself into tiny, unremovable knots at the thought of meeting this mysterious stranger who he might or might not be able to talk to.
Probably that's the reason.
"Oi!" Erika snaps a little too loudly for the space. Yamapi winces, but brings his attention back to her. The red enamel pendant lamp suspended above their table isn’t all that interesting to stare at anyway.
"What?" he asks nicely, but she just sighs, slumping over the scarred red tabletop to rest her cheek in her palm.
"If you're really that disinterested in being here, I guess I can begrudge you the right to go home," Erika says, but really, the glare she’s fixing him with at the moment doesn't feel like she's giving him the option to leave.
He stays put. He even stills the fingers of his left hand that he's been drumming nervously against the table leg to demonstrate his contriteness.
“Are you hungry?” Erika sits up with a bounce and paws for the menu propped against the wall behind the soy sauce decanter. “We could get some snacks while we wait. I’m sure my friend won’t mind too much since he’s the one who’s late and all.” Erika puffs out her cheeks and pouts at the list of available appetizers.
“Do you like...tonkatsu? They have pretty good cheese filled ones here. Oooh! Look! They even have a sweet potato and cheese one!” She taps the dingy plastic covered page excitedly.
“Sure,” Yamapi nods. “Oh wow, they they have sushi too?”
“Heh,” Erika coughs. “You could call it...a liberal interpretation of something involving raw seafood. Except most of the options are actually broiled or fried.”
“Oh,” Yamapi sighs, dropping his chin into his own propped up palm. Erika shrugs.
“At least the beer’s imported.” She smiles at her bottle of Asahi Dry and pats the label which is dewy with condensation. “Oh, you delicious stuff!” Yamapi muffles a snicker into his wrist.
“Do they have any meat or anything?” he asks, craning to see the menu better.
“What do you think tonkatsu is, idiot?” Erika laughs. Yamapi shrugs. “Well...let’s just order one for now, and then--”
“Eri-chan! Long time no see!”
Yamapi shifts in his seat to see a slim figure in threadbare jeans with hair as blonde as Cashier Kwon’s sweep through the door to the empty restaurant, the red glow of the setting sun limning his silhouette in the doorway.
“Hey you! Get over here!” Erika slips out of her seat to hug him in the aisle next to their booth, both of them laughing when his sunglasses get caught in her hair.
“Agh! There we go,” the newcomer slips his shades free with a sigh and hands Erika his oversized black leather shoulder bag before flopping down onto the bench beside her.
Yamapi starts to shove back the menu and empty glasses to make space for the new arrival but freezes in surprise when he pulls off his sunglasses and meets Yamapi’s eyes with a smile--the charismatic smile of the dynamic green suited lecturer from the conference. Although with much blonder hair and wearing a thin long sleeved T that clings to his well defined chest instead of a suit.
He looks good. Really good. Although Yamapi might be hard pressed to deny such a statement even if Mr. Green Suit were in a halmoni's neon floral nightgown.
“Hey,” the handsome non-stranger says, sitting up in his seat, “I know you!”
“Eh?” Yamapi and Erika gasp in simultaneous incredulity.
“You were at that one thingy in Seoul, weren’t you? That conference? Like two weeks ago?”
“Oh,” Yamapi recovers his breath. “You mean the Annual Japanese Language and Culture Educators of Korea Association Conference?” The non-stranger nods. How on earth does this guy recognize Yamapi? All Yamapi did in the non-stranger's presence was sit in a crowded room and scribble notes. For like an hour “It was actually, um, more like three weeks ago,” Yamapi can’t help but note. Two weeks and 6 days, to be exact.
“Yeah, I don’t really remember, but I remember you,” the non-stranger says again, a hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. Yamapi swallows hard and reaches for the menu, almost knocking over the soy sauce because he can’t look away from the dark eyes in front of him.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the non-stranger says with chin in hand, eyes narrowing. Yamapi tries hard not to blush under the scrutiny. “I assume Erika has returned the favor?”
“Huh?” Yamapi stutters as soon as he realizes the question was directed at him. “Oh, no, she wouldn’t tell me anything but that this was a surprise.”
“Hmmm,” the non-stranger hums in appraisal. “Well it certainly is one, for me anyway.” He wraps a thick strand of glossy bleached hair around his fore finger and tugs, still staring at Yamapi with deep intent.
“And what am I? Grated radish?” Erika huffs, clicking her beaded bracelet against the table in annoyance.
“Aw, Eri-chan~!” her benchmate coos, fluffing her hair around her cheeks. “You’re everyone’s favorite! So hurry up and tell Oppa your new friend’s name! I wanna know!” Erika gloats in the attention, unsuccessfully masking her satisfaction with a lazy pout.
“Oh, so I’m not the only the one she’s been stringing along for information?” Yamapi cuts in with a sharp grin, having finally managed to gather his wits once the non-stranger was distracted from ogling him.
“All in good time, gentlemen,” Erika purrs, settling into her seat comfortably now that the conversation once again centers around her. “Would you prefer the the sweet potato and cheese tonkatsu, or the extra crispy tonkatsu with plum sauce?” She waves a hand at the menu demurely.
“Erika-chan!” both men groan in tandem.
“Alright, alright! Don’t sweat through your BB cream, geez!” Erika flips her hair disdainfully and sits up straight. “Yamashita Tomohisa, Kim Jaejoong. Jaejoong, Yamashita, otherwise known as Tomo-kun.”
“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,” they both mutter as they awkwardly bow from across the table.
“Well that was lovely,” Erika says, brushing off her hands having successfully supervised the introductory events. “Now back to the important part, which flavor of tonkatsu?”
“Let’s try ‘em all,” Jaejoong drawls as he leans back against the seat, slipping an arm loosely around Erika’s skinny shoulders. “And where’s my beer?”
“Coming right up,” Yamapi grins, punching the call button on the corner of the table.
“I like this guy,” Jaejoong informs Erika with a lazy smile. “He has his priorities right: always bring the Jaejoong alcohol when he demands it.”
“Pfft,” Erika coughs, shoving his arm away, “I think he’s just being polite, Jae.” Jaejoong frowns but Yamapi hides a wry smile as he thinks to himself that Jaejoong’s version of things is lot closer to reality than he’d ever admit. Jaejoong could probably demand quite a few things from him, quite easily.
“Welcome!” a short middle aged woman with a big red apron tied over her curves calls out as she hurries towards their table. She smiles broadly when she sees the new addition to the table and exchanges a few quick words with Erika and Jaejoong. Yamapi zones out the accented Korean and draws patterns in the condensation on his beer bottle. Somebody eventually orders something, though, because the woman bows and disappears into the back again.
“Hey, Tomo, you in there?”
“Huh?” Yamapi glances up from his artwork to see Erika peering at him from mere centimeters away.
“You’re acting really strange today, you ok?”
“I’m fine,” he answers, leaning away from the table and pushing his hair back from his forehead. “So how come you speak Japanese?” he looks over to Jaejoong and blurts the next thought that comes to mind, only to glance down self consciously a moment later when his brain-mouth filter catches up with him.
“How come you’re in Korea?” Jaejoong fires right back.
“Well, umm…” Yamapi mumbles, fumbling for a satisfactory yet not completely fictional answer. Not that question again, that’s a really hard question, Yamapi’s overloaded brain moans internally.
“Well don’t flatter my national pride any!” Jaejoong pouts dramatically. “Welcome to Korea, the destination of apathetic wanderers and clueless idiots!” he laments with a beleaguered sigh.
“Hey!” Erika smacks his arm but Jaejoong pays her no heed, tipping his pained expression up to face the ceiling.
“O, Bali! O, Hawaii! What would we not give for a portion of your tropical bounty and lush verdancy so that the Land of the Morning Calm might also attract unsurpassed beauties of the swimwear clad kind!”
“So as long as I’m in swim trunks, it doesn’t matter if I’m an apathetic idiot with no purpose in life?” Yamapi smirks.
“Pretty much,” Jaejoong snaps out of his theatrical despair with a lazy nod. “Although bikinis and speedos are preferable.”
“You are both complete idiots and I hope the next round of beers shows up soon so you all start making some small modicum of sense,” Erika says flatly, massaging her eyeballs.
“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong turns to her, biting his lip in an apologetic frown. “Could you use more standard vocabulary? My Japanese isn’t that good yet, so I don’t understand when people try to insult me.” He breaks into a wicked grin before the end of his sentence and Yamapi laughs aloud at Erika’s pained expression.
“Oh my god, really?” she asks the ceiling, apparently hoping for better results than Jaejoong got when he addressed the water stained tiles for help. “Nah ah ah, you don’t!” She jerks back to attention as soon as Jaejoong tries to sneakily slide her beer out from under her nose.
“But Oppa really needs a drink!” he protests. “Today was just awful.” Jaejoong slumps onto the table, cradling his head in the crook of his elbow.
“Aww,” Erika soothes and pushes her drink back into his reach. Jaejoong just stays put though and she stretches a hand to gently stroke his hair.
“How did it go at your parents’?” she asks quietly.
“I don’t wanna talk about,” Jaejoong says in a small voice.
“Ok.” Erika gives his hair a final pat. “Oh look, the food’s here!” That gets Jaejoong up in hurry.
“Have a delicious meal!” the server says as she unloads two trays of drinks and food onto their table. Yamapi eyes the four different pork cutlets sizzling on cast iron bowls, mounds of fruit salad and steamed greens in matching china bowls, and several bottles of varying heights and colors.
“Thank you!” Erika calls to the woman as she heads back to the kitchen, but she just waves Erika off with a smile.
“You better eat every bite!” the woman scolds happily before ducking around the corner.
“Hey look, fried chicken!” Jaejoong exclaims, covering his grin with an elegantly poised hand. “Did we order chicken?”
“No,” Erika shakes her head. “Mrs. Guinto! What a sweetheart,” she shakes her head with a smile.
“You know the owner?” Yamapi asks, opening the utensil box to distribute the chopsticks.
“Yeah, I met her through the Immigrants' Rights association when I first moved here and she kind of adopted me,” Erika explains with a lopsided smile. “She’s originally from the Philippines.”
“Oh,” Yamapi nods. It makes more sense now why most of the other restaurants in town are closed for the holiday while this one is still open.
“I approve of calling people who give you free food family,” Jaejoong agrees before shoving a gigantic strip of steaming tonkatsu in his mouth. He closes his eyes in content as he chews.
“We ready to break out the soju?” Erika brandishes the bottle opener as Yamapi sinks his teeth into his own bite of pork. Both the boys nod enthusiastically. “Sweet. Although technically I shouldn’t be the one pouring,” she fixes Yamapi with an imploring look. “As much as this overgrown house cat wants me to call him Oppa I’m actually the oldest.”
“Oh?” Yamapi raises his eyebrows and mumbles, his mouth still full of fried delicious cheesy goodness.
“Jae graduated a bit early but he’s actually your age.” Erika fills three shot glasses from a large green bottle and hands them out.
“I have an old soul,” Jaejoong shrugs. “Combine that with my early date of graduation and it definitely makes you the kouhai.”
“Here we go again.” Erika rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Let’s toast! To new beginnings!”
“Cheers!”
They clink glasses and Yamapi thinks of the three musketeers as their arms are raised. Yup, Jaejoong could look good in a velvet doublet with lacy cuffs. Yamapi knocks back his shot with a smile and surfaces to find Jaejoong smiling back.
“So you graduated in 2012?” Yamapi asks, hoping to prolong the warm moment between them.
“Yup, this is my second year teaching, first year as a homeroom teacher.” Jaejoong wipes the rim of his empty shot glass with his thumb and takes a beer from Erika.
“Do you like teaching?” Yamapi smiles encouragingly before dropping his gaze to pick at the plate of salad in front of him.
“My job is fabulous and I’m awesome!” Jaejoong sings, stabbing a bite of chicken with the point of one chopstick.
“Confidence is a good thing,” Yamapi nods easily. Erika spits a mouthful of half chewed shredded cabbage back onto her plate.
“Too much of a good thing, Yamashita, is no longer a good thing,” she declares in a serious tone.
“That is a logically sound statement,” Yamapi allows, hoping to avoid getting sucked into another domestic dispute between the couple across from him.
“Where do you work again? The Boys High School?” Jaejoong cuts in, ignoring Erika. Yamapi nods. “I have all girls, perfect princesses. All boys sounds rough,” Jaejoong frowns in sympathy.
“Eh, life is never dull,” Yamapi muses, thinking of purple jump ropes and green tea milk.
“Haha! I should do some interviews and write up your biographical profile for our ‘successful expatriates’ publication!” Erika laughs. “At least it’d be more interesting than the Chinese Malaysian investment banker I had to interview last month.”
“Oh yeah? I want to hear interesting stories!” Jaejoong puffs out his lower lip and slowly walks his fingers across the table to Erika’s beer.
“Hey!” She slaps his hand away and readjusts her bracelet. “You totally have your own now!”
“But yours probably tastes better!” Jaejoong glares at Erika as if she’s trying to deprive him of his basic civil rights.
“Shut up so you can hear interesting stories,” she glares back.
“Ok!” Jaejoong drains his own bottle and reaches for another which Yamapi obligingly passes to him.
“Ok, so make it good Tomo-kun.” Erika slides Jaejoong the bottle opener and folds her arms.
“Me?” Yamapi pauses with a spoonful of fruit cocktail halfway to his mouth. “I don’t know...the situations might be funny if you were there to see them, but…” he cocks his head, trying to think of something appropriately amusing. The other two just blink at him owlishly, unimpressed. “Oh, well last week--!”
“I thought of a good one!” Erika sits up fast with a dangerous glint in her eye. Yamapi shoves the whole spoonful in his mouth and braces himself for the worst.
To her minimal credit, Erika doesn’t tell the absolute worst thing Yamapi vaguely remembers possibly telling her during last weekend’s fiasco, but Erika does proceed to tell Jaejoong about the misguided caramel purchase. Yamapi chokes on half a grape when she includes the graphic backstory explaining his distaste for the sticky sweet stuff. Now he’s secretly very, very glad he didn’t tell Erika everything about the conference. Like about the green suit and the buttered toast and the--
“So, is that anything like buying a pack of smokes when you turn 20 without any intention of using them, just because you can?” Jaejoong taps him on the arm, interrupting Yamapi’s private moment of embarrassed wallowing.
“What?”
“I mean your motivation for buying the caramel.”
“Oh.” Yamapi shrugs. “I wouldn’t know, half the kids in my neighborhood started smoking in middle school.”
“And were you part of the better half, or the healthier half?” Jaejoong leans in on one elbow, knocking over a nearly empty squeeze bottle of mayonnaise.
“Is that a trick question?” Yamapi tries not to hyperventilate under Jaejoong's gaze.
“Eri-chan, he doesn’t play fair! He was supposed to answer the question!” Jaejoong flicks a straw wrapper at Yamapi but it flutters helplessly and lands only a few centimeters away in a pool of chili sauce. Erika falls over laughing at his disgruntled face.
By the time they eat their way through their second order (as well as the generous supply of extra dishes Mrs. Guinto throws in as service) it is well past 9:00 and the moon is casting silvery beams through the cozy restaurant windows.
“I...am stuffed like a roll of kimbap,” Erika declares after swallowing the last bite of tonkatsu. She sprawls against Jaejoong and takes a deep steadying breath.
“What kind of kimbap?” Jaejoong asks sleepily.
“Oh god, don’t make me think about food anymore!” she groans. “It’s all your fault we ordered the second box of chicken!”
“Really?” Yamapi questions just to be pugnacious, sprawled equilaterally against the other side of the booth. “I thought you were the one who wanted to try the kind with the lemon sauce.”
“Does it even matter?” Erika moans.
“I think,” Jaejoong announces thoughtfully, “if we drink more soju it will burn up all the food in our stomachs and make more space.”
“More space for more chicken,” Yamapi agrees.
“Well this would be where we normally head for round two at karaoke,” Erika yawns, “but since all the noraebangs are rightfully closed on this joyous holiday, I vote we continue this rip roaring party at my place.”
“Is the 7-Eleven open?” Yamapi wonders aloud.
“Don’t worry. Noona has a private stash.” Erika reaches carefully around Jaejoong’s Eiffel tower constructed entirely of chicken bones and toothpicks to pat Yamapi’s wrist.
“Does this stash include chocolate?” Jaejoong sits up hopefully.
“You already know the answer to that!” Erika stands up and shoves Jaejoong out of his seat with the weight of their heavy bags. Yamapi grabs his wallet and peels himself off the bench.
They pay at the register and wish Mrs. Guinto a happy Chuseok before stumbling out into the cool evening air. There are of course no taxis in sight but it conveniently turns out that Erika’s house is only a block and a half away.
“Do you need anything from your car?” Erika prods Jaejoong’s arm with her key ring.
“Nope! I got everything I need right in this little bottle! Oops, I mean bag,” he deadpans, making a show of patting his large shoulder bag.
“You mean to say that’s an overnight bag and not a man purse?” Yamapi snickers. “You had me fooled all this time!”
“Oh no, that’s still definitely a man purse.” Erika gives the bag a whack of her own and sets of down the sidewalk.
“You live in a real house?” Yamapi asks in surprise when she finally stops in front of a quiet compound in the secluded neighborhood behind the izakaya to unlock the tall gate.
“Mm hmm.” Erika swings the gate open and waves her guests through. The nearest street lamp is at the end of the street but the moon is bright, outlining several maple trees and coniferous shrubs around the main building. The compound wall and the trees enclose the space privately but Yamapi can hear the faint sounds of singing and laughter coming from a neighbor’s yard. “It’s not really my house, but a generous patron affiliated with the Immigrants’ Rights association lets me stay here rent free.”
The house is nice, though not very spacious, or so it seems from the front rooms they pass through to get to the living room. Erika turns on a small lamp by the sofa and skates in sock feet to a cabinet next to the TV. She pries it open and gives the contents a quick once over.
“So we have some Rosato, soju, Suntory, Lotte Rummy limited edition chocolate, wasabi peanuts, orange makgeolli, red bean jelly, dried squid, medicinal ginseng tonic stuff that actually tastes pretty good, chocolate covered almonds, some kind of toffee someone brought me from London, and…red pepper potato chips.” She sits back on her heels and turns to her guests. “Pick your poison!”
“I call dibs on the Rummy raisin chocolatey amazingness!” Jaejoong hollers and flops onto Erika’s sofa.
“It’s the last one! Enjoy it.” Erika tosses a small purple box at Jaejoong’s head.
“You will make a wonderful breakfast.” Jaejoong kisses the box and shoves it under the throw pillow under his head. His phone beeps and he rolls over to tug it from his jeans pocket. Yamapi watches as Jaejoong scowls at the screen before shoving it after the chocolate bar and burying his face in the cushion.
“Drinks?” Erika offers again.
“Agh,” Jaejoong groans passionately into the throw pillow. “Could I just have some water and another pillow? I feel a migraine coming on and I have to fucking drive to Daegu in the morning.”
“Sure thing.” Erika hops to her feet and tugs on her bracelet. “Sorry Tomo-kun, but is it ok with you if we drink here some other night?”
“Of course,” he nods.
“You’re welcome to sleep here too, since your place is like an hour walk from here, or something ridiculous.”
“I would be much obliged for the use of your floor.” Yamapi rubs the back of his neck and swallows a yawn.
“Cool beans. I’ll go grab the futon. Water glasses are on the rack above the kitchen sink.” Erika points to the adjoining room on Yamapi’s left and disappears down the hall to the right.
Yamapi fumbles along the wall for a moment before he finds the light switch but the water glasses are, as promised, straight ahead on the draining rack above the double sink. He takes down two heavy bottomed blue glasses and fills them with cool water from the purifier on the counter.
Erika is just heaving an armful of bedding to the floor when Yamapi returns.
“Set those over there,” she points to a tray on a low table next to the TV and spreads out a bedroll printed with tiny pink and red flowers next to the couch. “I think he’s already asleep,” Erika whispers in Jaejoong’s direction. She stands to drape a blanket over Jaejoong and props the extra pillow next to his head but he gives no sign of awareness. Yamapi downs one of the glasses and sets both on the black lacquer tray.
“Thanks, Eri-chan.” Yamapi catches the purple towel she tosses him.
“Bathroom is the first door on the right.” Erika points down the hall she just came from. “Soap and everything should be easy to find. You need anything else? Hungry?” she asks with wide eyed concern. Yamapi shakes his head.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Ok! Goodnight then!” She gives a floppy wave and pads back down the hall, stretching her arms above her head with a loud yawn.
When Yamapi comes back from the bathroom the lights in the living room are off but the moonlight rolling in through the windows on either side of the TV illuminate his path to the futon. Yamapi stretches out on his back and drifts off to the quiet sounds of Jaejoong breathing into his pillow.
Pairings/Characters: Jaejoong/Yamapi
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Yamapi graduates university and takes a gap year to teach Japanese at a Korean high school. A lot of things happen, like life and friendship, and love.
A/N: Excuse the snark. It's been that kind of a day.
Heart Abroad, Part 12
It’s Thursday evening and they're seated on opposite ends of a small booth in a dimly lit izakaya, or whatever they're called in Korean, talking comfortably over half empty beers. Yamapi's tired, hungover from all the makgeolli, and a little uneasy around the edges. In one short month he's learned to be a little wary of Erika's "wonderful surprises" and "excellent terrific ideas", so that must be why his stomach is tying itself into tiny, unremovable knots at the thought of meeting this mysterious stranger who he might or might not be able to talk to.
Probably that's the reason.
"Oi!" Erika snaps a little too loudly for the space. Yamapi winces, but brings his attention back to her. The red enamel pendant lamp suspended above their table isn’t all that interesting to stare at anyway.
"What?" he asks nicely, but she just sighs, slumping over the scarred red tabletop to rest her cheek in her palm.
"If you're really that disinterested in being here, I guess I can begrudge you the right to go home," Erika says, but really, the glare she’s fixing him with at the moment doesn't feel like she's giving him the option to leave.
He stays put. He even stills the fingers of his left hand that he's been drumming nervously against the table leg to demonstrate his contriteness.
“Are you hungry?” Erika sits up with a bounce and paws for the menu propped against the wall behind the soy sauce decanter. “We could get some snacks while we wait. I’m sure my friend won’t mind too much since he’s the one who’s late and all.” Erika puffs out her cheeks and pouts at the list of available appetizers.
“Do you like...tonkatsu? They have pretty good cheese filled ones here. Oooh! Look! They even have a sweet potato and cheese one!” She taps the dingy plastic covered page excitedly.
“Sure,” Yamapi nods. “Oh wow, they they have sushi too?”
“Heh,” Erika coughs. “You could call it...a liberal interpretation of something involving raw seafood. Except most of the options are actually broiled or fried.”
“Oh,” Yamapi sighs, dropping his chin into his own propped up palm. Erika shrugs.
“At least the beer’s imported.” She smiles at her bottle of Asahi Dry and pats the label which is dewy with condensation. “Oh, you delicious stuff!” Yamapi muffles a snicker into his wrist.
“Do they have any meat or anything?” he asks, craning to see the menu better.
“What do you think tonkatsu is, idiot?” Erika laughs. Yamapi shrugs. “Well...let’s just order one for now, and then--”
“Eri-chan! Long time no see!”
Yamapi shifts in his seat to see a slim figure in threadbare jeans with hair as blonde as Cashier Kwon’s sweep through the door to the empty restaurant, the red glow of the setting sun limning his silhouette in the doorway.
“Hey you! Get over here!” Erika slips out of her seat to hug him in the aisle next to their booth, both of them laughing when his sunglasses get caught in her hair.
“Agh! There we go,” the newcomer slips his shades free with a sigh and hands Erika his oversized black leather shoulder bag before flopping down onto the bench beside her.
Yamapi starts to shove back the menu and empty glasses to make space for the new arrival but freezes in surprise when he pulls off his sunglasses and meets Yamapi’s eyes with a smile--the charismatic smile of the dynamic green suited lecturer from the conference. Although with much blonder hair and wearing a thin long sleeved T that clings to his well defined chest instead of a suit.
He looks good. Really good. Although Yamapi might be hard pressed to deny such a statement even if Mr. Green Suit were in a halmoni's neon floral nightgown.
“Hey,” the handsome non-stranger says, sitting up in his seat, “I know you!”
“Eh?” Yamapi and Erika gasp in simultaneous incredulity.
“You were at that one thingy in Seoul, weren’t you? That conference? Like two weeks ago?”
“Oh,” Yamapi recovers his breath. “You mean the Annual Japanese Language and Culture Educators of Korea Association Conference?” The non-stranger nods. How on earth does this guy recognize Yamapi? All Yamapi did in the non-stranger's presence was sit in a crowded room and scribble notes. For like an hour “It was actually, um, more like three weeks ago,” Yamapi can’t help but note. Two weeks and 6 days, to be exact.
“Yeah, I don’t really remember, but I remember you,” the non-stranger says again, a hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. Yamapi swallows hard and reaches for the menu, almost knocking over the soy sauce because he can’t look away from the dark eyes in front of him.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the non-stranger says with chin in hand, eyes narrowing. Yamapi tries hard not to blush under the scrutiny. “I assume Erika has returned the favor?”
“Huh?” Yamapi stutters as soon as he realizes the question was directed at him. “Oh, no, she wouldn’t tell me anything but that this was a surprise.”
“Hmmm,” the non-stranger hums in appraisal. “Well it certainly is one, for me anyway.” He wraps a thick strand of glossy bleached hair around his fore finger and tugs, still staring at Yamapi with deep intent.
“And what am I? Grated radish?” Erika huffs, clicking her beaded bracelet against the table in annoyance.
“Aw, Eri-chan~!” her benchmate coos, fluffing her hair around her cheeks. “You’re everyone’s favorite! So hurry up and tell Oppa your new friend’s name! I wanna know!” Erika gloats in the attention, unsuccessfully masking her satisfaction with a lazy pout.
“Oh, so I’m not the only the one she’s been stringing along for information?” Yamapi cuts in with a sharp grin, having finally managed to gather his wits once the non-stranger was distracted from ogling him.
“All in good time, gentlemen,” Erika purrs, settling into her seat comfortably now that the conversation once again centers around her. “Would you prefer the the sweet potato and cheese tonkatsu, or the extra crispy tonkatsu with plum sauce?” She waves a hand at the menu demurely.
“Erika-chan!” both men groan in tandem.
“Alright, alright! Don’t sweat through your BB cream, geez!” Erika flips her hair disdainfully and sits up straight. “Yamashita Tomohisa, Kim Jaejoong. Jaejoong, Yamashita, otherwise known as Tomo-kun.”
“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,” they both mutter as they awkwardly bow from across the table.
“Well that was lovely,” Erika says, brushing off her hands having successfully supervised the introductory events. “Now back to the important part, which flavor of tonkatsu?”
“Let’s try ‘em all,” Jaejoong drawls as he leans back against the seat, slipping an arm loosely around Erika’s skinny shoulders. “And where’s my beer?”
“Coming right up,” Yamapi grins, punching the call button on the corner of the table.
“I like this guy,” Jaejoong informs Erika with a lazy smile. “He has his priorities right: always bring the Jaejoong alcohol when he demands it.”
“Pfft,” Erika coughs, shoving his arm away, “I think he’s just being polite, Jae.” Jaejoong frowns but Yamapi hides a wry smile as he thinks to himself that Jaejoong’s version of things is lot closer to reality than he’d ever admit. Jaejoong could probably demand quite a few things from him, quite easily.
“Welcome!” a short middle aged woman with a big red apron tied over her curves calls out as she hurries towards their table. She smiles broadly when she sees the new addition to the table and exchanges a few quick words with Erika and Jaejoong. Yamapi zones out the accented Korean and draws patterns in the condensation on his beer bottle. Somebody eventually orders something, though, because the woman bows and disappears into the back again.
“Hey, Tomo, you in there?”
“Huh?” Yamapi glances up from his artwork to see Erika peering at him from mere centimeters away.
“You’re acting really strange today, you ok?”
“I’m fine,” he answers, leaning away from the table and pushing his hair back from his forehead. “So how come you speak Japanese?” he looks over to Jaejoong and blurts the next thought that comes to mind, only to glance down self consciously a moment later when his brain-mouth filter catches up with him.
“How come you’re in Korea?” Jaejoong fires right back.
“Well, umm…” Yamapi mumbles, fumbling for a satisfactory yet not completely fictional answer. Not that question again, that’s a really hard question, Yamapi’s overloaded brain moans internally.
“Well don’t flatter my national pride any!” Jaejoong pouts dramatically. “Welcome to Korea, the destination of apathetic wanderers and clueless idiots!” he laments with a beleaguered sigh.
“Hey!” Erika smacks his arm but Jaejoong pays her no heed, tipping his pained expression up to face the ceiling.
“O, Bali! O, Hawaii! What would we not give for a portion of your tropical bounty and lush verdancy so that the Land of the Morning Calm might also attract unsurpassed beauties of the swimwear clad kind!”
“So as long as I’m in swim trunks, it doesn’t matter if I’m an apathetic idiot with no purpose in life?” Yamapi smirks.
“Pretty much,” Jaejoong snaps out of his theatrical despair with a lazy nod. “Although bikinis and speedos are preferable.”
“You are both complete idiots and I hope the next round of beers shows up soon so you all start making some small modicum of sense,” Erika says flatly, massaging her eyeballs.
“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong turns to her, biting his lip in an apologetic frown. “Could you use more standard vocabulary? My Japanese isn’t that good yet, so I don’t understand when people try to insult me.” He breaks into a wicked grin before the end of his sentence and Yamapi laughs aloud at Erika’s pained expression.
“Oh my god, really?” she asks the ceiling, apparently hoping for better results than Jaejoong got when he addressed the water stained tiles for help. “Nah ah ah, you don’t!” She jerks back to attention as soon as Jaejoong tries to sneakily slide her beer out from under her nose.
“But Oppa really needs a drink!” he protests. “Today was just awful.” Jaejoong slumps onto the table, cradling his head in the crook of his elbow.
“Aww,” Erika soothes and pushes her drink back into his reach. Jaejoong just stays put though and she stretches a hand to gently stroke his hair.
“How did it go at your parents’?” she asks quietly.
“I don’t wanna talk about,” Jaejoong says in a small voice.
“Ok.” Erika gives his hair a final pat. “Oh look, the food’s here!” That gets Jaejoong up in hurry.
“Have a delicious meal!” the server says as she unloads two trays of drinks and food onto their table. Yamapi eyes the four different pork cutlets sizzling on cast iron bowls, mounds of fruit salad and steamed greens in matching china bowls, and several bottles of varying heights and colors.
“Thank you!” Erika calls to the woman as she heads back to the kitchen, but she just waves Erika off with a smile.
“You better eat every bite!” the woman scolds happily before ducking around the corner.
“Hey look, fried chicken!” Jaejoong exclaims, covering his grin with an elegantly poised hand. “Did we order chicken?”
“No,” Erika shakes her head. “Mrs. Guinto! What a sweetheart,” she shakes her head with a smile.
“You know the owner?” Yamapi asks, opening the utensil box to distribute the chopsticks.
“Yeah, I met her through the Immigrants' Rights association when I first moved here and she kind of adopted me,” Erika explains with a lopsided smile. “She’s originally from the Philippines.”
“Oh,” Yamapi nods. It makes more sense now why most of the other restaurants in town are closed for the holiday while this one is still open.
“I approve of calling people who give you free food family,” Jaejoong agrees before shoving a gigantic strip of steaming tonkatsu in his mouth. He closes his eyes in content as he chews.
“We ready to break out the soju?” Erika brandishes the bottle opener as Yamapi sinks his teeth into his own bite of pork. Both the boys nod enthusiastically. “Sweet. Although technically I shouldn’t be the one pouring,” she fixes Yamapi with an imploring look. “As much as this overgrown house cat wants me to call him Oppa I’m actually the oldest.”
“Oh?” Yamapi raises his eyebrows and mumbles, his mouth still full of fried delicious cheesy goodness.
“Jae graduated a bit early but he’s actually your age.” Erika fills three shot glasses from a large green bottle and hands them out.
“I have an old soul,” Jaejoong shrugs. “Combine that with my early date of graduation and it definitely makes you the kouhai.”
“Here we go again.” Erika rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Let’s toast! To new beginnings!”
“Cheers!”
They clink glasses and Yamapi thinks of the three musketeers as their arms are raised. Yup, Jaejoong could look good in a velvet doublet with lacy cuffs. Yamapi knocks back his shot with a smile and surfaces to find Jaejoong smiling back.
“So you graduated in 2012?” Yamapi asks, hoping to prolong the warm moment between them.
“Yup, this is my second year teaching, first year as a homeroom teacher.” Jaejoong wipes the rim of his empty shot glass with his thumb and takes a beer from Erika.
“Do you like teaching?” Yamapi smiles encouragingly before dropping his gaze to pick at the plate of salad in front of him.
“My job is fabulous and I’m awesome!” Jaejoong sings, stabbing a bite of chicken with the point of one chopstick.
“Confidence is a good thing,” Yamapi nods easily. Erika spits a mouthful of half chewed shredded cabbage back onto her plate.
“Too much of a good thing, Yamashita, is no longer a good thing,” she declares in a serious tone.
“That is a logically sound statement,” Yamapi allows, hoping to avoid getting sucked into another domestic dispute between the couple across from him.
“Where do you work again? The Boys High School?” Jaejoong cuts in, ignoring Erika. Yamapi nods. “I have all girls, perfect princesses. All boys sounds rough,” Jaejoong frowns in sympathy.
“Eh, life is never dull,” Yamapi muses, thinking of purple jump ropes and green tea milk.
“Haha! I should do some interviews and write up your biographical profile for our ‘successful expatriates’ publication!” Erika laughs. “At least it’d be more interesting than the Chinese Malaysian investment banker I had to interview last month.”
“Oh yeah? I want to hear interesting stories!” Jaejoong puffs out his lower lip and slowly walks his fingers across the table to Erika’s beer.
“Hey!” She slaps his hand away and readjusts her bracelet. “You totally have your own now!”
“But yours probably tastes better!” Jaejoong glares at Erika as if she’s trying to deprive him of his basic civil rights.
“Shut up so you can hear interesting stories,” she glares back.
“Ok!” Jaejoong drains his own bottle and reaches for another which Yamapi obligingly passes to him.
“Ok, so make it good Tomo-kun.” Erika slides Jaejoong the bottle opener and folds her arms.
“Me?” Yamapi pauses with a spoonful of fruit cocktail halfway to his mouth. “I don’t know...the situations might be funny if you were there to see them, but…” he cocks his head, trying to think of something appropriately amusing. The other two just blink at him owlishly, unimpressed. “Oh, well last week--!”
“I thought of a good one!” Erika sits up fast with a dangerous glint in her eye. Yamapi shoves the whole spoonful in his mouth and braces himself for the worst.
To her minimal credit, Erika doesn’t tell the absolute worst thing Yamapi vaguely remembers possibly telling her during last weekend’s fiasco, but Erika does proceed to tell Jaejoong about the misguided caramel purchase. Yamapi chokes on half a grape when she includes the graphic backstory explaining his distaste for the sticky sweet stuff. Now he’s secretly very, very glad he didn’t tell Erika everything about the conference. Like about the green suit and the buttered toast and the--
“So, is that anything like buying a pack of smokes when you turn 20 without any intention of using them, just because you can?” Jaejoong taps him on the arm, interrupting Yamapi’s private moment of embarrassed wallowing.
“What?”
“I mean your motivation for buying the caramel.”
“Oh.” Yamapi shrugs. “I wouldn’t know, half the kids in my neighborhood started smoking in middle school.”
“And were you part of the better half, or the healthier half?” Jaejoong leans in on one elbow, knocking over a nearly empty squeeze bottle of mayonnaise.
“Is that a trick question?” Yamapi tries not to hyperventilate under Jaejoong's gaze.
“Eri-chan, he doesn’t play fair! He was supposed to answer the question!” Jaejoong flicks a straw wrapper at Yamapi but it flutters helplessly and lands only a few centimeters away in a pool of chili sauce. Erika falls over laughing at his disgruntled face.
By the time they eat their way through their second order (as well as the generous supply of extra dishes Mrs. Guinto throws in as service) it is well past 9:00 and the moon is casting silvery beams through the cozy restaurant windows.
“I...am stuffed like a roll of kimbap,” Erika declares after swallowing the last bite of tonkatsu. She sprawls against Jaejoong and takes a deep steadying breath.
“What kind of kimbap?” Jaejoong asks sleepily.
“Oh god, don’t make me think about food anymore!” she groans. “It’s all your fault we ordered the second box of chicken!”
“Really?” Yamapi questions just to be pugnacious, sprawled equilaterally against the other side of the booth. “I thought you were the one who wanted to try the kind with the lemon sauce.”
“Does it even matter?” Erika moans.
“I think,” Jaejoong announces thoughtfully, “if we drink more soju it will burn up all the food in our stomachs and make more space.”
“More space for more chicken,” Yamapi agrees.
“Well this would be where we normally head for round two at karaoke,” Erika yawns, “but since all the noraebangs are rightfully closed on this joyous holiday, I vote we continue this rip roaring party at my place.”
“Is the 7-Eleven open?” Yamapi wonders aloud.
“Don’t worry. Noona has a private stash.” Erika reaches carefully around Jaejoong’s Eiffel tower constructed entirely of chicken bones and toothpicks to pat Yamapi’s wrist.
“Does this stash include chocolate?” Jaejoong sits up hopefully.
“You already know the answer to that!” Erika stands up and shoves Jaejoong out of his seat with the weight of their heavy bags. Yamapi grabs his wallet and peels himself off the bench.
They pay at the register and wish Mrs. Guinto a happy Chuseok before stumbling out into the cool evening air. There are of course no taxis in sight but it conveniently turns out that Erika’s house is only a block and a half away.
“Do you need anything from your car?” Erika prods Jaejoong’s arm with her key ring.
“Nope! I got everything I need right in this little bottle! Oops, I mean bag,” he deadpans, making a show of patting his large shoulder bag.
“You mean to say that’s an overnight bag and not a man purse?” Yamapi snickers. “You had me fooled all this time!”
“Oh no, that’s still definitely a man purse.” Erika gives the bag a whack of her own and sets of down the sidewalk.
“You live in a real house?” Yamapi asks in surprise when she finally stops in front of a quiet compound in the secluded neighborhood behind the izakaya to unlock the tall gate.
“Mm hmm.” Erika swings the gate open and waves her guests through. The nearest street lamp is at the end of the street but the moon is bright, outlining several maple trees and coniferous shrubs around the main building. The compound wall and the trees enclose the space privately but Yamapi can hear the faint sounds of singing and laughter coming from a neighbor’s yard. “It’s not really my house, but a generous patron affiliated with the Immigrants’ Rights association lets me stay here rent free.”
The house is nice, though not very spacious, or so it seems from the front rooms they pass through to get to the living room. Erika turns on a small lamp by the sofa and skates in sock feet to a cabinet next to the TV. She pries it open and gives the contents a quick once over.
“So we have some Rosato, soju, Suntory, Lotte Rummy limited edition chocolate, wasabi peanuts, orange makgeolli, red bean jelly, dried squid, medicinal ginseng tonic stuff that actually tastes pretty good, chocolate covered almonds, some kind of toffee someone brought me from London, and…red pepper potato chips.” She sits back on her heels and turns to her guests. “Pick your poison!”
“I call dibs on the Rummy raisin chocolatey amazingness!” Jaejoong hollers and flops onto Erika’s sofa.
“It’s the last one! Enjoy it.” Erika tosses a small purple box at Jaejoong’s head.
“You will make a wonderful breakfast.” Jaejoong kisses the box and shoves it under the throw pillow under his head. His phone beeps and he rolls over to tug it from his jeans pocket. Yamapi watches as Jaejoong scowls at the screen before shoving it after the chocolate bar and burying his face in the cushion.
“Drinks?” Erika offers again.
“Agh,” Jaejoong groans passionately into the throw pillow. “Could I just have some water and another pillow? I feel a migraine coming on and I have to fucking drive to Daegu in the morning.”
“Sure thing.” Erika hops to her feet and tugs on her bracelet. “Sorry Tomo-kun, but is it ok with you if we drink here some other night?”
“Of course,” he nods.
“You’re welcome to sleep here too, since your place is like an hour walk from here, or something ridiculous.”
“I would be much obliged for the use of your floor.” Yamapi rubs the back of his neck and swallows a yawn.
“Cool beans. I’ll go grab the futon. Water glasses are on the rack above the kitchen sink.” Erika points to the adjoining room on Yamapi’s left and disappears down the hall to the right.
Yamapi fumbles along the wall for a moment before he finds the light switch but the water glasses are, as promised, straight ahead on the draining rack above the double sink. He takes down two heavy bottomed blue glasses and fills them with cool water from the purifier on the counter.
Erika is just heaving an armful of bedding to the floor when Yamapi returns.
“Set those over there,” she points to a tray on a low table next to the TV and spreads out a bedroll printed with tiny pink and red flowers next to the couch. “I think he’s already asleep,” Erika whispers in Jaejoong’s direction. She stands to drape a blanket over Jaejoong and props the extra pillow next to his head but he gives no sign of awareness. Yamapi downs one of the glasses and sets both on the black lacquer tray.
“Thanks, Eri-chan.” Yamapi catches the purple towel she tosses him.
“Bathroom is the first door on the right.” Erika points down the hall she just came from. “Soap and everything should be easy to find. You need anything else? Hungry?” she asks with wide eyed concern. Yamapi shakes his head.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Ok! Goodnight then!” She gives a floppy wave and pads back down the hall, stretching her arms above her head with a loud yawn.
When Yamapi comes back from the bathroom the lights in the living room are off but the moonlight rolling in through the windows on either side of the TV illuminate his path to the futon. Yamapi stretches out on his back and drifts off to the quiet sounds of Jaejoong breathing into his pillow.