SBB 2015 ENTRY #21: THE SWEETNESS OF THE ICE CREAM BOY (1/2)
Title: The Sweetness of the Ice Cream Boy (1/2)
Pairing: Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Swearing, Smut
Final Word Count: 13,350
The Boy’s tongue flicked out, ran slowly along his lips.
Now Minho wanted to die.'>
Because it was a Wednesday, the day at the ice cream parlor where he worked part-time would be slow and relaxed. It would just be him and his friend Taemin manning the small store a few blocks down the road, to which Minho usually took a bus. On these slow days, the two college students would do their homework openly on the counter, storing it quickly away should someone walk in. When the homework was finished, they would lean their backs against the wall and talk to each other about practically everything until the sun had set and the store had to be closed. Sometimes they would even eat the sprinkles or little m&ms and play loud music that did not fit the atmosphere of an ice cream parlor at all, and just enjoy their freedom.
Despite all these wonderful things, it was the thought of something else that brought a spring to Minho’s step and a smile he tried and failed to suppress to his lips.
On Wednesdays, the Ice Cream Boy always came in.
The “Ice Cream Boy” was a name almost lovingly bestowed on a truly lovely regular customer. Minho did not know his real name, or anything about him, but he had enough of a presence in his life to warrant a name, so he and Taemin settled on “Ice Cream Boy.” Taemin’s suggestions had all been along the eyes of “Mr. Eye-fuck” and “Flat-ass” to which Minho had blushed and refused point-blank.
Minho seemed to snap back into reality upon entering the parlor, his journey there having been swallowed by his own thoughts. The parlor was small, with only three circular tables and eight chairs at the front. The walls and floor were lined with small, alternating red-and-white tiles. The ice cream bar was on the right side of the room, where it displayed the various ice cream flavors in large circular tubs and various toppings in smaller, rectangular bowls. There was even a milk-shake maker on the wall behind, and a fridge with bottles of water and soda to drink. Taemin was leaning across the counter, bleached blonde hair falling softly over his eyes, as he flipped through the pages of his chemistry textbook. He looked up at Minho and gave a small nod.
After changing in the back, Minho settled into one of the two stools behind the counter. He flipped open his English journal, color coded blue, as he had organized all of his subjects according to color, to the most recent page and began to silently mutter the words to himself as his fingers absentmindedly picked at the paint slowly peeling off the legs of the stool.
It was always Minho who gave up on homework first on Wednesdays. This was for a variety of reasons: A. unlike Taemin, he studied regularly every day rather than cramming just before a test; B. he did his homework in much the same way; and C. the Ice Cream Boy always arrived at around four thirty, so Minho could never focus past four o’clock.
He shoved his notes under the counter at two past four. Teamin eyed him with a smirk, clicking his tongue in disdain. Minho, fighting a blush, punched his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”
“Let’s take bets today,” Taemin said, closing his textbook with a loud smack.
“Bets on what?”
“On how many words you’re going to say to “Mr. I Jizz When Our Fingers Brush.”
Minho folded his arms over his chest, biting the inside of his cheek. “I do not.”
Taemin waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. Anyway, we should try to get some information out of him today. You need a little more info about this guy if you want to sufficiently jack-off to him, right?”
Minho punched him again. Taemin was the most vulgar person Minho could dream of. But he was right; it was ridiculous fawning over a guy he knew next to nothing about.
Although it was Minho who was, even if he would not admit it verbally, head-over-heels when it came to the Ice Cream Boy, both he and Taemin knew the same information about him. They knew that he came in every Wednesday at the same time and he got two pints to go: one Chocolate Chaos, which was chocolate ice cream mixed with nuts and pretzels, and then another pint of the brightest, sweetest-looking flavor-the type kids usually were attracted to.
The Boy was not a boy at all, probably around Minho’s age, give or take a year or so. He was small, of just below average height with narrow shoulders that made him look even tinier.
He probably wasn’t a student, as he was never carrying a backpack or such clearly scholarly paraphernalia. He didn’t seem to have a desk job, if he had a job at all, because he was always dressed casually and four thirty was too early for an office worker to get home and change. His hair was black and thick and looked softer than cotton candy. It was usually unstyled, falling to his eyebrows like a soft cloud. Sometimes he gelled it up, and the look of his bare forehead and brows would send Minho into such a frenzy it was up to Taemin to serve and of course compliment the Boy’s appearance.
The Boy laughed when he was complimented. His laugh was like a child’s, little hiccups that curved around the natural fullness of his voice and drove Minho crazy. His whole body shook when he laughed, his small shoulders bobbing up and down. His mouth would open wide, exposing his tiny, perfectly white teeth.
Once, as he snapped the cover on the first pint, Minho had worked up enough courage to ask who the ice cream was for. The Ice Cream Boy’s lips had curved into a sweet smile, his cheeks rounding and scrunching up his eyes into little crescents as he said they were for his mother and sister, with whom he always met at a park on Wednesdays, where he’d give them their ice cream and then see a musical or a movie or maybe eat at a fancy restaurant. His smile was so sweet and unexpected Minho’s hands began to shake, his heart hammering in his chest. The Boy must not have noticed, as he did not comment and even slipped a larger tip than usual into the jar.
He knew the Boy was a bit moody, as some days he practically skipped into the store while on others the weight of the world seemed to press on his shoulders. Still, he always tried to smile to Taemin and Minho-although it was obvious to the two when his grin was genuine and when it wasn’t. Minho would always try to cram a little more ice cream into the pints on these days and hope it would prompt one of the Boy’s family members to give him some to try, as Minho firmly believed in the healing properties of sugar.
The chime of the bell hanging above the door turned Minho’s attention to the front of the store. There he was-the Ice Cream Boy, dressed in tight ripped jeans and a red and black plaid button-down atop a black t-shirt of some Western band. He gave a sideways smile to the two college students, who greeted him enthusiastically.
God, he looked beautiful. He needed a haircut but it just made his black locks look even more luscious. And the t-shirt hugged his tiny waist and dropped low enough to expose his collarbones and that little mole just above them. God it was so cute he was so cute an-
“How are you doing today?” Taemin asked, jabbing his elbow into Minho below the counter. Minho smacked his arm away.
The Boy shrugged. “Alright. How are you two?”
“Doing okay,” Taemin responded, straightening.
“Y-yeah,” Minho stuttered. Taemin shot him a piercing glare as though to ask that’s all you can say?
“Good to hear,” responded the Boy.
Taemin softly pushed Minho out of the way of the ice cream bar and slid it open. He pulled out one of the ice cream scoops from the metal container hanging off the side of the counter and dug it deeply into the Chocolate Chaos. The Boy’s eyes were focused on Taemin’s hands as he scraped the ice cream into the styrofoam bowl and reached for more.
Minho took a deep breath, rolling his fingers into tight fists. Here goes… “What other flavor would you like today?”
The Ice Cream Boy’s dark eyes flitted upward to Minho, sending a chill along his skin. Then he raised his head and smiled again. “The strawberry one with cheesecake…Strawberry Castle, I think.”
“You mean Strawberry Palace,” Taemin corrected as he snapped the lid to the Chocolate Chaos in place.
“Oh, is that what it’s called? My sister texted me earlier today to get her that flavor again, but she wasn’t sure about the name either.”
Minho shrugged. “It’s no problem.” Strawberry Palace was on his side of the ice cream bar, so he flexed his fingers and took the scoop in his hand. It felt colder than usual. It cut through the Strawberry Palace easily, forming perfect spheres of sweetness. It must have taken him longer than usual to fill the container, because when he handed it to Taemin he was given a dude, what the fuck kind of look.
As Taemin secured the cover on the second pint, Minho raised his head. The Ice Cream Boy was looking directly at him with a neutral expression.
A pit seemed to have opened beneath him, threatening to swallow Minho whole unless he spoke; said something, anything, to relieve this awkward silence.
So Minho decided to ask a dumb question.
“Why don’t you get any ice cream?”
He could feel Taemin’s glare digging into the side of his neck but ignored it. Heat rushed to his face and his brain seemed to grow heavier and heavier with each millisecond his question hung unanswered in the air.
The Boy folded his arms across his chest and furrowed his eyebrows together. “I guess…I don’t know. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” He looked up at Minho and smiled sheepishly. “And I don’t even know what flavor I would like.”
Taemin spoke up. “You can test them, ya know. We can give you a bite of each.”
The Ice Cream Boy blinked. “Now?”
“Yeah,” replied Minho, nodding erratically. “Why not?”
And thus it began. They started from the far right flavors, Taemin’s jurisdiction. He would reach in with a little spoon the size of his pinky and grab just a bite of each flavor and hand it to Jonghyun, who tasted each one eagerly. Minho now knew what he meant by not having a sweet tooth, as the flavors to which he responded the most positively were fruit flavors. Still, he was kind and complimented each one.
When Taemin had finished his half of the ice cream bar, Minho began his quest. His hands shook when he dug the spoons into the ice cream and he often accidentally flicked his wrist too hard, sending the small bundle of ice cream flying. He kept his fingers clenched tightly at the top of the spoon to prevent the Boy from accidentally touching him, worried it would expose how nervous he was. The Boy was so close. Minho had never gotten such a good look at his thin pink lips or the redness of his mouth, or even his skin, which was, in fact, flawless.
Although the Boy responded in kind to each flavor, Taemin and Minho knew when he was faking and wasn’t actually a fan-and he wasn’t a big fan of any of the flavors. There were only two left, the first of which was called Raspberry Rumble. It was just vanilla ice cream with the somewhat tart red fruit mixed in; nothing special. As before, the Boy reached forward and took the spoon in his hand, then slid it through his pink lips, which broke into a childish smile.
His cheeks rounded into little reddish spheres, practically covering this eyes to become glistening half-moons. His grin was toothy and unabashed, the realest Minho may have ever seen.
Taemin spoke up, a smile lining his voice. “What do you think?”
“It’s delicious,” the Boy sang, turning briefly to face Taemin before directing his gaze to Minho. Direct eye-contact. It made Minho’s brain deactivate, the world becoming nothing more than the pleasure in the Ice Cream Boy’s eyes. “Can I have some more?”
Minho nodded dumbly and grabbed a fresh spoon. He filled it shakily with the pink ice cream, just as he had done before, still struggling to keep his face relatively neutral, as before. It was the Ice Cream Boy who broke the rhythm.
He leaned forward.
He leaned forward and opened his little mouth.
He leaned forward and wrapped his pink lips around the spoon.
The Ice Cream Boy basically ate out of Minho’s hand.
Minho was ready to die. He must have used up all his good luck in this lifetime. His heart hurt, his whole body had gone cold while something bubbled in his stomach. He felt like throwing up and crying, like screaming and jumping into the air. But his lungs must have stopped functioning and his legs could have been amputated for all he knew. He couldn’t focus on anything, on nothing more than the satisfaction that sweetly colored the Boy’s cheeks, the happiness evident in his eyes, and the small pool of ice cream that collected at the opening of his lips.
Minho wanted to kiss that ice cream away. He wondered what the Boy tasted like.
The Boy’s tongue flicked out, ran slowly along his lips.
Now Minho wanted to die.
“So, what do you think?” Taemin asked. If Minho’s mind had not gone black, he would have been able to picture the smile on his friend’s face-the kind that was wide and mischievous and pulled his lips inward.
The Ice Cream Boy said it was delicious. Wonderful. He was smiling at Taemin now, rubbing his fingers excitedly together.
“In that case, we’ll get you a pint. On the house.”
The Boy at first protested, but Taemin ignored him. He pushed Minho aside with his hips and filled up a pint of the Raspberry Rumble himself. He snapped the top in place, then placed it in a plastic bag with the other pints and three spoons. Confusion toyed with the Boy’s expression before he allowed a smile to form on his lips when Taemin handed the bag to him.
His lips opened thank Taemin, but he was interrupted: “We’ll give this all to you for free under one condition. Please answer just one question for us.”
Both Minho and the Boy blinked.
“Oh, umm, sure?” replied the Boy.
“What’s your name?”
**
Kim Jonghyun (that was his name, a name Minho wanted to tattoo on his skin) continued his regular cycle for the next few weeks. He showed up every Wednesday without fail, and every Wednesday Minho failed to spark up conversation beyond the average paper-thin pleasantries. Jonghyun was also getting ice cream too now, and Minho had practically had to beg his boss to not switch out the Raspberry Rumble flavor with a new one. He wasn’t sure Jonghyun would like anything else.
Taemin had vowed almost immediately after Jonghyun had given his name and left the parlor that he was done helping Minho: “It’s up to you now; I’ve already done too much.” And he was sticking to his vow, only speaking up to save the awkward silences that would fall over customer and server like black, sticky tar. Minho even felt like he was boiling, hyper-aware of Jonghyun’s eyes on him as he scooped up the ice cream.
He looked like a Jonghyun. Minho had written a whole page about it during a lecture-and failed a test as a result. “Jonghyun” felt double-sided, but in a good way; like a name that held power but belonged to someone soft and precious. Someone full of knowledge and the stinging-ability to say nothing but truth. He thought the sharpness and irregularity of his lower teeth was very Jonghyun, just like the apparent softness of his hair contrasted with its pitch black color. His massive, overpowering smiles were too big for the smallness of his body, and there was definitely something strange about the fact that this one man had managed to make Minho’s life such a confused mess.
Minho oftentimes visited Taemin at his family home, as he lived with his family just a few blocks from the campus. On one of these excursions to Taemin’s family, the two students were approached by a young man who lived in the same building. Kim Kibum, a starving artist who actually wasn’t starving or even vaguely deprived from the looks of him, explained that his two dogs, two dachshunds with unpronounceable names, had went and had puppies, which he was looking to sell. He handed the both of them flyers, which they promised to pin up over the campus.
After Kibum thanked the two and left, Taemin promptly handed over the flyers to Minho.He stuck to his word, tacking the flyers to the cork boards set up in the school. He even taped one to the outside of the glass that covered the ice cream tubs at work.
On the next Wednesday, Minho’s excitement was just the same as it had been the week before-meaning he was one-thousand times more excited than he had been before he had learned Jonghyun’s name. Meaning he practically ran to the bus and showed up a half hour earlier, had so much pent-up energy he did push-ups instead of doing homework, and Taemin threw toppings at him while yelling “oh my god are you fifteen?”
The bell above the door tinkled at four twenty-seven. Minho was standing up, as he had become too paranoid the second the clock turned four to do push-ups and instead twitched and shivered as he stood beside his stool. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth when he greeted Jonghyun, who, on that day, was wearing a V-neck black tee and a pair of white jeans.
Minho’s heart was going to burst at the sight of the small curves of his collarbones, his sloping shoulders and defined chest that tapered off to his tiny waist. Was Minho’s face red? Did he look pained? Like he was going to die because he felt like he was going to die he felt-
“Are there still some left?” Jonghyun barely breathed as he spoke, his words flowing out in an uncontrolled rush. He was right in front of Minho now, on the opposite side of the counter. His finger tapped loudly on the glass cover. His eyes were wide, mouth half-open as he looked up desperately at Minho.
“O-of the ice cream? Of c-course we still h-“
“No, not that.” The sharpness of that first word took Minho aback, seemed to make his heart skip a beat. His hair stood up on its ends, skin shivering. “The puppies. Are there still some left?”
What.
Taemin spoke up. “Uhh, yeah?” Jonghyun’s head turned to face Taemin with such speed it was a wonder his neck didn’t snap. He leaned further over the glass, placing his hands flat against it. Taemin was obviously flustered, stuttering his next sentence. “I-I think there’s only one left.”
“Can I go see it now? Is now okay?”
Taemin scratched at the back of his head. “I, um, dunno if Kibum is home…let me call him.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned to walk into the backroom. He rested his hand on Minho’s shoulder and pulled his lips slightly to the side before exiting.
Then it was just Minho and Jonghyun, who had removed his hands from the glass but still looked tense, his small shoulders drawn up and fingers desperately working at his jean pockets. His eyes flicked from place to face like a black insect. Once or twice they met Minho’s and quickly stole any confidence the student had mustered to speak up and attempt conversation.
But, perhaps without even the least bit of confidence, spurred on by curiosity instead, he spoke up and asked Jonghyun, “You doing okay?”
Jonghyun blinked, and smiled in a way that was almost his normal smile. Almost. Half-way there. “Yeah, I just…” he raised his hand and scratched at the back of his head, and his eyes scrunched up and he showed his little teeth and crinkled his nose and said, “I just, kind of, really want a puppy.”
At this moment Taemin walked in, sliding his phone into his pocket. Jonghyun’s smile fell a bit, that look of focus and determination once again taking hold of his normally soft features.
“Kibum’s not home right now,” Taemin explained. “But we can still do the sale if we head over to his place, if you can cover at least half the price now and leave your number so Kibum can get the rest. He told me where he keeps the key and how much he’s willing to sell for.”
Jonghyun nodded and looked up at Minho. “Will you go with me?”
Minho opened his mouth to explain that it would probably be better for Taemin to go, that “we” probably meant Jonghyun and Taemin.
“Go ahead, I’ll take care of the place while you’re gone,” said Taemin almost immediately. Minho flashed him a desperate look. He felt all the blood leave his extremities, leaving him cold, confused, and just a little frightened. Taemin turned to him and said, “Come with me into the back, then you guys can go.”
“Oh my god what are you thinking?” Minho whispered when they were alone, having left Jonghyun desperately tapping his toes impatiently in the parlor. “Oh my god I can’t do this I can’t god-“
“Grow a pair, would you?” hissed Taemin as he reached into the locker where Minho put his everyday clothes and threw them to his friend’s chest. “I just gave you the opportunity of a fucking lifetime.”
“But I don’t know what to do.” Minho whined, clutching his clothes desperately to his chest. “I’ve never had a real conversation with the guy. How am I supposed to survive the trip to your place? What if I’m weird?”
“Fairly certain he already knows you’re weird.”
“I’m serious,” Minho groaned, his brow furrowing.
“So am I.” Taemin placed both hands on Minho’s shoulder, staring at him dead-on. “If I have to hear one more time about how he’s just some stupid crush and you should never make a move I am going to scream so hard my lungs burst. You don’t have to have sex with him today or tell him how many wet dreams you’ve had about him, you don’t have to confess or any of that shit. This is just two men-of whom at least one is pretty gay-running an errand together. This is your chance to get to know him as Kim Jonghyun, become his friend, and I am going to have to manage this goddamn ice cream parlor by myself to get you this opportunity so you had better take advantage of it, do you hear me?
“You better come back with his phone number or I will tear out all of your hair.” Taemin grumbled as he released Minho’s shoulders. “Or come back saying he’s already dating someone.”
Minho still had more to say, more protests to raise. He did not like this idea. He did not know if he was ready to be left alone with Jonghyun. However, the part of him that wanted to obey his friend spoke up, whispered that it was only a five minute bus ride to Taemin’s apartment-that, at its worst, this potential misadventure would probably only be five minutes of awkward silence while traveling and then a short sale; then it would all be over. With this part of his mind and Taemin’s glare cutting deeply into him, his mind was almost made up. He remembered Jonghyun, open-mouthed and looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes…damn. Minho sighed and changed back into his jeans and t-shirt.
Jonghyun’s eyes were on him the second he stepped back into the parlor. “Ready?” he asked. Minho nodded, and Jonghyun turned on his heel and headed out at quick pace, forcing Minho to jog after him.
“We have to take the bus for two stops,” he explained breathlessly, trailing slightly behind Jonghyun, whose arms swung with each determined step.
Jonghyun nodded and continued at his fast pace until they reached the bus stop. Luck must have been against them, as there was no one else waiting at the stop-meaning the bus had come by just a minute earlier and the two would have to wait. Minho cursed inwardly and doubled the potential five minutes of awkward silence to ten.
Jonghyun said nothing, only bobbed back and forth on his heels as he stared blankly at passing traffic. Minho tried to do the same, but his mind continued to whirr. He found himself looking at Jonghyun’s back, watching the back of his bouncing legs and his shoulders go up and down every few seconds.
“You okay…?”
Minho recognized this voice immediately and shook his head to snap back into reality. Jonghyun had turned his neck to face him, and his eyebrows were furrowed with concern.
Minho smiled. He waved his hands in front of his face frantically. “Yeah, yeah, sorry I just zoned out.” The fact that it was Jonghyun’s body that had derailed him from reality was not important. “Were you saying something?”
“I was just wondering if you had any pets,” Jonghyun explained.
Small talk. Jonghyun was trying to make small talk with him. He could handle this; just answer honestly but try to keep the conversation going. “Oh. I don’t, since I’m a student and we can’t have pets in the dorm.”
“Ah, a student, I see.”
That was not a helpful response, not one that kept the conversation going. Minho cleared his throat. “So, are you a student? You’re around my age, aren’t you?”
“I take some classes, but they only meet twice a week.” Jonghyun pushed his hands into his pockets, sticking out his thumbs. “I’m an EMT, so I half my time between school and work.” He chuckled, “well, I do have a lot of free time too. Wednesdays are my day off, when I don’t have any classes or any shifts.”
“That explains it,” Minho exhales. “Taemin and I were wondering about that.”
Jonghyun laughs again, this time louder. He lifts the back of his hand up to his lips and scrunches up his eyes. “Wondering about me?”
Minho pales. “K-kinda… I mean, we knew you were our age but you never had any books and--”
“Is Taemin the guy you work with? With the bleached hair?”
“Yeah,” Minho says with a nod, relieved that Jonghyun had saved him having to explain anything.
Jonghyun’s eyebrows furrowed again. “Wait...I, I don’t think I know your name.” He blinked. “I don’t know your name, do I?”
Minho knew every encounter the two had ever had by heart, and he knew that he had never introduced himself in front of Jonghyun. “I guess not…”
Jonghyun frowned and turned his body around so he and Minho were standing properly opposite each other. He extended a hand. “My name is Kim Jonghyun. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Choi Minho.” Minho took Jonghyun’s hand and they shook. Jonghyun’s hands were soft and small in Minho’s own, though a little clammy with sweat. Still, they sent his heart pounding madly in his chest. For a short moment Minho feared Jonghyun could feel his rapid pulse, but their handshake was broken before that happened.
Jonghyun asked Minho what he was studying in school, and this led to a long string of other such “getting-to-know-you” questions. Aside from Jonghyun occasionally giving too short an answer or one that did not clearly lead to a question, it seemed to have gone okay. Minho had also gathered enough information about the Ice Cream Boy to even appease Taemin, aside from the all-important is he single?
Jonghyun’s sister was named Sodam, and when he talked about her his eyes smiled. He had not had any pets growing up but he wanted a puppy so badly his fingers would start tapping whatever surface they were near when he thought about it. Being an EMT was scary but good at the same time, he had said in a voice almost a whisper. He was training to be a surgeon, maybe cardiac, and he always got unintentionally loud when he talked about his future. He was dragging out his classes and working a lot to rake in extra cash for his family, he had explained with his arms folded over his chest, picking at the fabric of his shirt.
At this point, the two had already boarded and alighted from the bus at Taemin’s stop. They stood at the street as they waited for the signal to cross, and Minho again noticed Jonghyun shifting his weight back and forth on his heels, holding his hands behind his back. He had not realized he had chuckled until Jonghyun was staring back at him with narrowed eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” Minho laughed. “You, you just look like a little kid.” He lifted his own head and put his hands behind his back, bouncing back and forth just like Jonghyun, adding a light-hearted whistle to complete the picture. He broke out into a smile and lurched forward, holding his stomach as laughed.
Jonghyun glared at him, and for a short moment Minho wondered if he had gone too far, but eventually Jonghyun’s face smoothed into a smile. He punched Minho’s shoulder lightly, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval.
The crowd around them noticed the light change before the two men had the chance, and they were soon pushed along by the mass of people to Taemin’s apartment building. They climbed the five flights of stairs to the floor shared by Kibum and Taemin’s family. Kibum’s door was marked with a strange wreath made out of shredded fabric and what looked like scrap metal.
“Isn’t it too early for that?” Jonghyun asked as Minho lifted the lower half of the “K” on the welcome mat (“Kim Family,” it said) in front of the door. The “K” had been partially removed by a simple seam ripper, which exposed a small cavity in which a spare key was stored.
“That, or it’s way too late,” Minho exhaled as he raised himself to his feet. “Or maybe it’s some strange artistic statement.” He inserted the lock into the doorknob and after a few desperate rattles pushed open the door. Two small dogs, a black and a brown one, rushed to the door, barking loudly. They maintained a small ring of empty space around the two men, forgoing attacking for toothed growling and short barks.
Jonghyun lowered himself to a squat, holding out one bent arm nearly half-way across the invisible boundary line. The dogs, these two long-haired dachshunds with legs like jelly beans, at first responded with frequenter and more powerful barks before quieting down to stare at the man. The brown one approached him cautiously. It sniffed Jonghyun’s fingers for a brief moment before rewarding him with a half-hearted lick. Jonghyun grinned widely. “I’m not too bad, right?” he asked, extending a finger to lightly brush the dog’s cheek.
The sound of claws on wood turned Minho’s attention to the far side of the room. A puppy stared up at him, shivering from a few yard away. It stared up at him desperately for a few seconds, and he madly questioned what he should do when it fled behind the nearby couch as fast as it could. Despite its speed, Jonghyun had still noticed.
Without a word, he rose back to his feet and approached the couch, the black dog only staring as he went past. Jonghyun kneeled in front of the couch, just in front of where the puppy had disappeared. He clicked his tongue quietly as he rested his forearm on the floor. “Come on, come here,” he cooed. “Come here, I won’t hurt you.”
Minho waited with just as much patience as Jonghyun, watching his slim shoulders move with each breath. He began to wonder just how long Jonghyun would wait when he noticed the Ice Cream Boy’s arms change position, bringing both hands in front of him. “Hi, hi, hello,” he murmured. “Hello, hello. Ah, you’re such a pretty puppy. So pretty.”
A few minutes later, Jonghyun brought himself slowly to his feet. He turned on his heel toward Minho. Pressed up against his chest was the puppy, one of his hands supporting it from below while the second was wrapped protectively around it. It was mostly black, with a light brown on its paws and dotted on its face.
“Isn’t she pretty?” Jonghyun muttered, looking up at Minho briefly before bringing his eyes back to the dog.
“She?”
Jonghyun nodded. “Yeah, it’s a she. And she’s pretty, right?”
“Yeah,” Minho whispered back, matching Jonghyun’s softer tone, as he was still speaking as though there were a sleeping infant in the room. “So, are you going to buy her then?”
“Of course, how could I turn down this cute face?” He bounced the puppy in his hands, humming behind smiling lips as he did.
Jonghyun had just enough cash to cover half the puppy, and they left the folded-up bills on the countertop along with a post-it note with Jonghyun’s number before exiting the apartment. Minho restored the key to its proper place and the two made their way down to the main floor.
“Would you mind…?” Jonghyun began, holding out the dog toward Minho. She trembled in his hands and her little claws dug into the back of his hand.
Jonghyun pulled out his phone and shuffled to the opposite end of the lobby. He had a brief conversation with someone on the other end before turning back toward Minho. “A friend of mine is on his way since I don’t think going on the bus is a good idea with her.” He gestured toward the puppy, then reached out his arms to hold it, like a child asking for something from his parent. Minho handed the dog over and watched as Jonghyun bounced her up and down in his arms. She seemed much more comfortable in Jonghyun’s arms than Minho’s.
“If you want, you can just head out now. I don’t want to make you wait, since you can just take the bus.”
Minho shook his head. “Nah, I’ll just wait. This gets me out of working anyway.”
“Oh, okay,” Jonghyun replied, turning his head down to smile foolishly at his puppy.
Silence fell over the two, the awkward shuffling kind. Jonghyun was in a bit of a better position, since he could entertain himself by cooing at his puppy, but Minho was left scraping his shoes uselessly on the floor, wondering if he should just leave rather than waiting around. He scoured his brain for something to say, to use these moments as best as he could.
“So,” he began, turning to face Jonghyun, who looked up at him. “What are you going to name her?”
Jonghyun blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that…What were her parents named?”
Minho shrugged. “Something French, I think.”
“French? Then should she have a French name too? That would be cute, wouldn’t it?”
Minho nodded.
Jonghyun clicked his tongue. “I don’t know anything French though...other than Paris and bonjour.”
“Well, there’s the Eiffel Tower and the...the…,” Minho scratched the back of his head. “That art place...Wat...Water. I don’t know. And the Rue...Rue…”
“Rue?” Jonghyun asked.
“I think it means street,” Minho explained. “There’s some famous street I’m trying to think of--”
“Rue, rue, rue, rue,” Jonghyun sang, swaying back and forth and staring at the dog in his arms. “Ruuuuueeeeeeeee.” He dipped the dog downward, like he was dancing with a beautiful woman. “Rue. My Rue,” he laughed.
Still leaning to the side, dipping his dog, Jonghyun looked up at Minho with smiling eyes. Minho thought his heart might stop. “How do you spell that?” he questioned, his grin bleeding into his voice.
“I-I don’t know, actually,” stuttered Minho.
Jonghyun stood straight again, squealing in satisfaction at the small dog’s startled whine. “Doesn’t matter. She’ll be mine, my Roo.”
Minho smirked. “Your Roo who will be eating up all your time from now on. You know puppies are a lot of work.”
Jonghyun pouted. “I’ll still have time. For example, I’m free at 7 on Friday.”
Minho’s heart stopped. “Huh?”
Jonghyun adjusted his position so he held the puppy in one hand and stretched his free arm toward Minho. "Can I see your phone?"
Minho reached into his pocket and dumbly obeyed. The whole word seemed heavier, oxygen must have become a poison because his chest felt like it was on fire. Had Jonghyun really just...? No, no there must have been some mistake. He watched as Jonghyun, shuffling back and forth on the balls of his feet, did god-knows what on his phone while his heart decided to do double-dutch.
Jonghyun handed his phone back to him a few agonizing moments later, the home screen open. "My friend should be here by now," he replied. “I’ll see you later. Friday.”
Minho nodded numbly. It seemed like his brain was swimming in tar as he watched Jonghyun leave the apartment complex, singing loudly and unashamedly to his new dog as he went.
| Part Two >>
Pairing: Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Swearing, Smut
Final Word Count: 13,350
The Boy’s tongue flicked out, ran slowly along his lips.
Now Minho wanted to die.'>
Because it was a Wednesday, the day at the ice cream parlor where he worked part-time would be slow and relaxed. It would just be him and his friend Taemin manning the small store a few blocks down the road, to which Minho usually took a bus. On these slow days, the two college students would do their homework openly on the counter, storing it quickly away should someone walk in. When the homework was finished, they would lean their backs against the wall and talk to each other about practically everything until the sun had set and the store had to be closed. Sometimes they would even eat the sprinkles or little m&ms and play loud music that did not fit the atmosphere of an ice cream parlor at all, and just enjoy their freedom.
Despite all these wonderful things, it was the thought of something else that brought a spring to Minho’s step and a smile he tried and failed to suppress to his lips.
On Wednesdays, the Ice Cream Boy always came in.
The “Ice Cream Boy” was a name almost lovingly bestowed on a truly lovely regular customer. Minho did not know his real name, or anything about him, but he had enough of a presence in his life to warrant a name, so he and Taemin settled on “Ice Cream Boy.” Taemin’s suggestions had all been along the eyes of “Mr. Eye-fuck” and “Flat-ass” to which Minho had blushed and refused point-blank.
Minho seemed to snap back into reality upon entering the parlor, his journey there having been swallowed by his own thoughts. The parlor was small, with only three circular tables and eight chairs at the front. The walls and floor were lined with small, alternating red-and-white tiles. The ice cream bar was on the right side of the room, where it displayed the various ice cream flavors in large circular tubs and various toppings in smaller, rectangular bowls. There was even a milk-shake maker on the wall behind, and a fridge with bottles of water and soda to drink. Taemin was leaning across the counter, bleached blonde hair falling softly over his eyes, as he flipped through the pages of his chemistry textbook. He looked up at Minho and gave a small nod.
After changing in the back, Minho settled into one of the two stools behind the counter. He flipped open his English journal, color coded blue, as he had organized all of his subjects according to color, to the most recent page and began to silently mutter the words to himself as his fingers absentmindedly picked at the paint slowly peeling off the legs of the stool.
It was always Minho who gave up on homework first on Wednesdays. This was for a variety of reasons: A. unlike Taemin, he studied regularly every day rather than cramming just before a test; B. he did his homework in much the same way; and C. the Ice Cream Boy always arrived at around four thirty, so Minho could never focus past four o’clock.
He shoved his notes under the counter at two past four. Teamin eyed him with a smirk, clicking his tongue in disdain. Minho, fighting a blush, punched his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”
“Let’s take bets today,” Taemin said, closing his textbook with a loud smack.
“Bets on what?”
“On how many words you’re going to say to “Mr. I Jizz When Our Fingers Brush.”
Minho folded his arms over his chest, biting the inside of his cheek. “I do not.”
Taemin waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. Anyway, we should try to get some information out of him today. You need a little more info about this guy if you want to sufficiently jack-off to him, right?”
Minho punched him again. Taemin was the most vulgar person Minho could dream of. But he was right; it was ridiculous fawning over a guy he knew next to nothing about.
Although it was Minho who was, even if he would not admit it verbally, head-over-heels when it came to the Ice Cream Boy, both he and Taemin knew the same information about him. They knew that he came in every Wednesday at the same time and he got two pints to go: one Chocolate Chaos, which was chocolate ice cream mixed with nuts and pretzels, and then another pint of the brightest, sweetest-looking flavor-the type kids usually were attracted to.
The Boy was not a boy at all, probably around Minho’s age, give or take a year or so. He was small, of just below average height with narrow shoulders that made him look even tinier.
He probably wasn’t a student, as he was never carrying a backpack or such clearly scholarly paraphernalia. He didn’t seem to have a desk job, if he had a job at all, because he was always dressed casually and four thirty was too early for an office worker to get home and change. His hair was black and thick and looked softer than cotton candy. It was usually unstyled, falling to his eyebrows like a soft cloud. Sometimes he gelled it up, and the look of his bare forehead and brows would send Minho into such a frenzy it was up to Taemin to serve and of course compliment the Boy’s appearance.
The Boy laughed when he was complimented. His laugh was like a child’s, little hiccups that curved around the natural fullness of his voice and drove Minho crazy. His whole body shook when he laughed, his small shoulders bobbing up and down. His mouth would open wide, exposing his tiny, perfectly white teeth.
Once, as he snapped the cover on the first pint, Minho had worked up enough courage to ask who the ice cream was for. The Ice Cream Boy’s lips had curved into a sweet smile, his cheeks rounding and scrunching up his eyes into little crescents as he said they were for his mother and sister, with whom he always met at a park on Wednesdays, where he’d give them their ice cream and then see a musical or a movie or maybe eat at a fancy restaurant. His smile was so sweet and unexpected Minho’s hands began to shake, his heart hammering in his chest. The Boy must not have noticed, as he did not comment and even slipped a larger tip than usual into the jar.
He knew the Boy was a bit moody, as some days he practically skipped into the store while on others the weight of the world seemed to press on his shoulders. Still, he always tried to smile to Taemin and Minho-although it was obvious to the two when his grin was genuine and when it wasn’t. Minho would always try to cram a little more ice cream into the pints on these days and hope it would prompt one of the Boy’s family members to give him some to try, as Minho firmly believed in the healing properties of sugar.
The chime of the bell hanging above the door turned Minho’s attention to the front of the store. There he was-the Ice Cream Boy, dressed in tight ripped jeans and a red and black plaid button-down atop a black t-shirt of some Western band. He gave a sideways smile to the two college students, who greeted him enthusiastically.
God, he looked beautiful. He needed a haircut but it just made his black locks look even more luscious. And the t-shirt hugged his tiny waist and dropped low enough to expose his collarbones and that little mole just above them. God it was so cute he was so cute an-
“How are you doing today?” Taemin asked, jabbing his elbow into Minho below the counter. Minho smacked his arm away.
The Boy shrugged. “Alright. How are you two?”
“Doing okay,” Taemin responded, straightening.
“Y-yeah,” Minho stuttered. Taemin shot him a piercing glare as though to ask that’s all you can say?
“Good to hear,” responded the Boy.
Taemin softly pushed Minho out of the way of the ice cream bar and slid it open. He pulled out one of the ice cream scoops from the metal container hanging off the side of the counter and dug it deeply into the Chocolate Chaos. The Boy’s eyes were focused on Taemin’s hands as he scraped the ice cream into the styrofoam bowl and reached for more.
Minho took a deep breath, rolling his fingers into tight fists. Here goes… “What other flavor would you like today?”
The Ice Cream Boy’s dark eyes flitted upward to Minho, sending a chill along his skin. Then he raised his head and smiled again. “The strawberry one with cheesecake…Strawberry Castle, I think.”
“You mean Strawberry Palace,” Taemin corrected as he snapped the lid to the Chocolate Chaos in place.
“Oh, is that what it’s called? My sister texted me earlier today to get her that flavor again, but she wasn’t sure about the name either.”
Minho shrugged. “It’s no problem.” Strawberry Palace was on his side of the ice cream bar, so he flexed his fingers and took the scoop in his hand. It felt colder than usual. It cut through the Strawberry Palace easily, forming perfect spheres of sweetness. It must have taken him longer than usual to fill the container, because when he handed it to Taemin he was given a dude, what the fuck kind of look.
As Taemin secured the cover on the second pint, Minho raised his head. The Ice Cream Boy was looking directly at him with a neutral expression.
A pit seemed to have opened beneath him, threatening to swallow Minho whole unless he spoke; said something, anything, to relieve this awkward silence.
So Minho decided to ask a dumb question.
“Why don’t you get any ice cream?”
He could feel Taemin’s glare digging into the side of his neck but ignored it. Heat rushed to his face and his brain seemed to grow heavier and heavier with each millisecond his question hung unanswered in the air.
The Boy folded his arms across his chest and furrowed his eyebrows together. “I guess…I don’t know. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” He looked up at Minho and smiled sheepishly. “And I don’t even know what flavor I would like.”
Taemin spoke up. “You can test them, ya know. We can give you a bite of each.”
The Ice Cream Boy blinked. “Now?”
“Yeah,” replied Minho, nodding erratically. “Why not?”
And thus it began. They started from the far right flavors, Taemin’s jurisdiction. He would reach in with a little spoon the size of his pinky and grab just a bite of each flavor and hand it to Jonghyun, who tasted each one eagerly. Minho now knew what he meant by not having a sweet tooth, as the flavors to which he responded the most positively were fruit flavors. Still, he was kind and complimented each one.
When Taemin had finished his half of the ice cream bar, Minho began his quest. His hands shook when he dug the spoons into the ice cream and he often accidentally flicked his wrist too hard, sending the small bundle of ice cream flying. He kept his fingers clenched tightly at the top of the spoon to prevent the Boy from accidentally touching him, worried it would expose how nervous he was. The Boy was so close. Minho had never gotten such a good look at his thin pink lips or the redness of his mouth, or even his skin, which was, in fact, flawless.
Although the Boy responded in kind to each flavor, Taemin and Minho knew when he was faking and wasn’t actually a fan-and he wasn’t a big fan of any of the flavors. There were only two left, the first of which was called Raspberry Rumble. It was just vanilla ice cream with the somewhat tart red fruit mixed in; nothing special. As before, the Boy reached forward and took the spoon in his hand, then slid it through his pink lips, which broke into a childish smile.
His cheeks rounded into little reddish spheres, practically covering this eyes to become glistening half-moons. His grin was toothy and unabashed, the realest Minho may have ever seen.
Taemin spoke up, a smile lining his voice. “What do you think?”
“It’s delicious,” the Boy sang, turning briefly to face Taemin before directing his gaze to Minho. Direct eye-contact. It made Minho’s brain deactivate, the world becoming nothing more than the pleasure in the Ice Cream Boy’s eyes. “Can I have some more?”
Minho nodded dumbly and grabbed a fresh spoon. He filled it shakily with the pink ice cream, just as he had done before, still struggling to keep his face relatively neutral, as before. It was the Ice Cream Boy who broke the rhythm.
He leaned forward.
He leaned forward and opened his little mouth.
He leaned forward and wrapped his pink lips around the spoon.
The Ice Cream Boy basically ate out of Minho’s hand.
Minho was ready to die. He must have used up all his good luck in this lifetime. His heart hurt, his whole body had gone cold while something bubbled in his stomach. He felt like throwing up and crying, like screaming and jumping into the air. But his lungs must have stopped functioning and his legs could have been amputated for all he knew. He couldn’t focus on anything, on nothing more than the satisfaction that sweetly colored the Boy’s cheeks, the happiness evident in his eyes, and the small pool of ice cream that collected at the opening of his lips.
Minho wanted to kiss that ice cream away. He wondered what the Boy tasted like.
The Boy’s tongue flicked out, ran slowly along his lips.
Now Minho wanted to die.
“So, what do you think?” Taemin asked. If Minho’s mind had not gone black, he would have been able to picture the smile on his friend’s face-the kind that was wide and mischievous and pulled his lips inward.
The Ice Cream Boy said it was delicious. Wonderful. He was smiling at Taemin now, rubbing his fingers excitedly together.
“In that case, we’ll get you a pint. On the house.”
The Boy at first protested, but Taemin ignored him. He pushed Minho aside with his hips and filled up a pint of the Raspberry Rumble himself. He snapped the top in place, then placed it in a plastic bag with the other pints and three spoons. Confusion toyed with the Boy’s expression before he allowed a smile to form on his lips when Taemin handed the bag to him.
His lips opened thank Taemin, but he was interrupted: “We’ll give this all to you for free under one condition. Please answer just one question for us.”
Both Minho and the Boy blinked.
“Oh, umm, sure?” replied the Boy.
“What’s your name?”
**
Kim Jonghyun (that was his name, a name Minho wanted to tattoo on his skin) continued his regular cycle for the next few weeks. He showed up every Wednesday without fail, and every Wednesday Minho failed to spark up conversation beyond the average paper-thin pleasantries. Jonghyun was also getting ice cream too now, and Minho had practically had to beg his boss to not switch out the Raspberry Rumble flavor with a new one. He wasn’t sure Jonghyun would like anything else.
Taemin had vowed almost immediately after Jonghyun had given his name and left the parlor that he was done helping Minho: “It’s up to you now; I’ve already done too much.” And he was sticking to his vow, only speaking up to save the awkward silences that would fall over customer and server like black, sticky tar. Minho even felt like he was boiling, hyper-aware of Jonghyun’s eyes on him as he scooped up the ice cream.
He looked like a Jonghyun. Minho had written a whole page about it during a lecture-and failed a test as a result. “Jonghyun” felt double-sided, but in a good way; like a name that held power but belonged to someone soft and precious. Someone full of knowledge and the stinging-ability to say nothing but truth. He thought the sharpness and irregularity of his lower teeth was very Jonghyun, just like the apparent softness of his hair contrasted with its pitch black color. His massive, overpowering smiles were too big for the smallness of his body, and there was definitely something strange about the fact that this one man had managed to make Minho’s life such a confused mess.
Minho oftentimes visited Taemin at his family home, as he lived with his family just a few blocks from the campus. On one of these excursions to Taemin’s family, the two students were approached by a young man who lived in the same building. Kim Kibum, a starving artist who actually wasn’t starving or even vaguely deprived from the looks of him, explained that his two dogs, two dachshunds with unpronounceable names, had went and had puppies, which he was looking to sell. He handed the both of them flyers, which they promised to pin up over the campus.
After Kibum thanked the two and left, Taemin promptly handed over the flyers to Minho.He stuck to his word, tacking the flyers to the cork boards set up in the school. He even taped one to the outside of the glass that covered the ice cream tubs at work.
On the next Wednesday, Minho’s excitement was just the same as it had been the week before-meaning he was one-thousand times more excited than he had been before he had learned Jonghyun’s name. Meaning he practically ran to the bus and showed up a half hour earlier, had so much pent-up energy he did push-ups instead of doing homework, and Taemin threw toppings at him while yelling “oh my god are you fifteen?”
The bell above the door tinkled at four twenty-seven. Minho was standing up, as he had become too paranoid the second the clock turned four to do push-ups and instead twitched and shivered as he stood beside his stool. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth when he greeted Jonghyun, who, on that day, was wearing a V-neck black tee and a pair of white jeans.
Minho’s heart was going to burst at the sight of the small curves of his collarbones, his sloping shoulders and defined chest that tapered off to his tiny waist. Was Minho’s face red? Did he look pained? Like he was going to die because he felt like he was going to die he felt-
“Are there still some left?” Jonghyun barely breathed as he spoke, his words flowing out in an uncontrolled rush. He was right in front of Minho now, on the opposite side of the counter. His finger tapped loudly on the glass cover. His eyes were wide, mouth half-open as he looked up desperately at Minho.
“O-of the ice cream? Of c-course we still h-“
“No, not that.” The sharpness of that first word took Minho aback, seemed to make his heart skip a beat. His hair stood up on its ends, skin shivering. “The puppies. Are there still some left?”
What.
Taemin spoke up. “Uhh, yeah?” Jonghyun’s head turned to face Taemin with such speed it was a wonder his neck didn’t snap. He leaned further over the glass, placing his hands flat against it. Taemin was obviously flustered, stuttering his next sentence. “I-I think there’s only one left.”
“Can I go see it now? Is now okay?”
Taemin scratched at the back of his head. “I, um, dunno if Kibum is home…let me call him.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned to walk into the backroom. He rested his hand on Minho’s shoulder and pulled his lips slightly to the side before exiting.
Then it was just Minho and Jonghyun, who had removed his hands from the glass but still looked tense, his small shoulders drawn up and fingers desperately working at his jean pockets. His eyes flicked from place to face like a black insect. Once or twice they met Minho’s and quickly stole any confidence the student had mustered to speak up and attempt conversation.
But, perhaps without even the least bit of confidence, spurred on by curiosity instead, he spoke up and asked Jonghyun, “You doing okay?”
Jonghyun blinked, and smiled in a way that was almost his normal smile. Almost. Half-way there. “Yeah, I just…” he raised his hand and scratched at the back of his head, and his eyes scrunched up and he showed his little teeth and crinkled his nose and said, “I just, kind of, really want a puppy.”
At this moment Taemin walked in, sliding his phone into his pocket. Jonghyun’s smile fell a bit, that look of focus and determination once again taking hold of his normally soft features.
“Kibum’s not home right now,” Taemin explained. “But we can still do the sale if we head over to his place, if you can cover at least half the price now and leave your number so Kibum can get the rest. He told me where he keeps the key and how much he’s willing to sell for.”
Jonghyun nodded and looked up at Minho. “Will you go with me?”
Minho opened his mouth to explain that it would probably be better for Taemin to go, that “we” probably meant Jonghyun and Taemin.
“Go ahead, I’ll take care of the place while you’re gone,” said Taemin almost immediately. Minho flashed him a desperate look. He felt all the blood leave his extremities, leaving him cold, confused, and just a little frightened. Taemin turned to him and said, “Come with me into the back, then you guys can go.”
“Oh my god what are you thinking?” Minho whispered when they were alone, having left Jonghyun desperately tapping his toes impatiently in the parlor. “Oh my god I can’t do this I can’t god-“
“Grow a pair, would you?” hissed Taemin as he reached into the locker where Minho put his everyday clothes and threw them to his friend’s chest. “I just gave you the opportunity of a fucking lifetime.”
“But I don’t know what to do.” Minho whined, clutching his clothes desperately to his chest. “I’ve never had a real conversation with the guy. How am I supposed to survive the trip to your place? What if I’m weird?”
“Fairly certain he already knows you’re weird.”
“I’m serious,” Minho groaned, his brow furrowing.
“So am I.” Taemin placed both hands on Minho’s shoulder, staring at him dead-on. “If I have to hear one more time about how he’s just some stupid crush and you should never make a move I am going to scream so hard my lungs burst. You don’t have to have sex with him today or tell him how many wet dreams you’ve had about him, you don’t have to confess or any of that shit. This is just two men-of whom at least one is pretty gay-running an errand together. This is your chance to get to know him as Kim Jonghyun, become his friend, and I am going to have to manage this goddamn ice cream parlor by myself to get you this opportunity so you had better take advantage of it, do you hear me?
“You better come back with his phone number or I will tear out all of your hair.” Taemin grumbled as he released Minho’s shoulders. “Or come back saying he’s already dating someone.”
Minho still had more to say, more protests to raise. He did not like this idea. He did not know if he was ready to be left alone with Jonghyun. However, the part of him that wanted to obey his friend spoke up, whispered that it was only a five minute bus ride to Taemin’s apartment-that, at its worst, this potential misadventure would probably only be five minutes of awkward silence while traveling and then a short sale; then it would all be over. With this part of his mind and Taemin’s glare cutting deeply into him, his mind was almost made up. He remembered Jonghyun, open-mouthed and looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes…damn. Minho sighed and changed back into his jeans and t-shirt.
Jonghyun’s eyes were on him the second he stepped back into the parlor. “Ready?” he asked. Minho nodded, and Jonghyun turned on his heel and headed out at quick pace, forcing Minho to jog after him.
“We have to take the bus for two stops,” he explained breathlessly, trailing slightly behind Jonghyun, whose arms swung with each determined step.
Jonghyun nodded and continued at his fast pace until they reached the bus stop. Luck must have been against them, as there was no one else waiting at the stop-meaning the bus had come by just a minute earlier and the two would have to wait. Minho cursed inwardly and doubled the potential five minutes of awkward silence to ten.
Jonghyun said nothing, only bobbed back and forth on his heels as he stared blankly at passing traffic. Minho tried to do the same, but his mind continued to whirr. He found himself looking at Jonghyun’s back, watching the back of his bouncing legs and his shoulders go up and down every few seconds.
“You okay…?”
Minho recognized this voice immediately and shook his head to snap back into reality. Jonghyun had turned his neck to face him, and his eyebrows were furrowed with concern.
Minho smiled. He waved his hands in front of his face frantically. “Yeah, yeah, sorry I just zoned out.” The fact that it was Jonghyun’s body that had derailed him from reality was not important. “Were you saying something?”
“I was just wondering if you had any pets,” Jonghyun explained.
Small talk. Jonghyun was trying to make small talk with him. He could handle this; just answer honestly but try to keep the conversation going. “Oh. I don’t, since I’m a student and we can’t have pets in the dorm.”
“Ah, a student, I see.”
That was not a helpful response, not one that kept the conversation going. Minho cleared his throat. “So, are you a student? You’re around my age, aren’t you?”
“I take some classes, but they only meet twice a week.” Jonghyun pushed his hands into his pockets, sticking out his thumbs. “I’m an EMT, so I half my time between school and work.” He chuckled, “well, I do have a lot of free time too. Wednesdays are my day off, when I don’t have any classes or any shifts.”
“That explains it,” Minho exhales. “Taemin and I were wondering about that.”
Jonghyun laughs again, this time louder. He lifts the back of his hand up to his lips and scrunches up his eyes. “Wondering about me?”
Minho pales. “K-kinda… I mean, we knew you were our age but you never had any books and--”
“Is Taemin the guy you work with? With the bleached hair?”
“Yeah,” Minho says with a nod, relieved that Jonghyun had saved him having to explain anything.
Jonghyun’s eyebrows furrowed again. “Wait...I, I don’t think I know your name.” He blinked. “I don’t know your name, do I?”
Minho knew every encounter the two had ever had by heart, and he knew that he had never introduced himself in front of Jonghyun. “I guess not…”
Jonghyun frowned and turned his body around so he and Minho were standing properly opposite each other. He extended a hand. “My name is Kim Jonghyun. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Choi Minho.” Minho took Jonghyun’s hand and they shook. Jonghyun’s hands were soft and small in Minho’s own, though a little clammy with sweat. Still, they sent his heart pounding madly in his chest. For a short moment Minho feared Jonghyun could feel his rapid pulse, but their handshake was broken before that happened.
Jonghyun asked Minho what he was studying in school, and this led to a long string of other such “getting-to-know-you” questions. Aside from Jonghyun occasionally giving too short an answer or one that did not clearly lead to a question, it seemed to have gone okay. Minho had also gathered enough information about the Ice Cream Boy to even appease Taemin, aside from the all-important is he single?
Jonghyun’s sister was named Sodam, and when he talked about her his eyes smiled. He had not had any pets growing up but he wanted a puppy so badly his fingers would start tapping whatever surface they were near when he thought about it. Being an EMT was scary but good at the same time, he had said in a voice almost a whisper. He was training to be a surgeon, maybe cardiac, and he always got unintentionally loud when he talked about his future. He was dragging out his classes and working a lot to rake in extra cash for his family, he had explained with his arms folded over his chest, picking at the fabric of his shirt.
At this point, the two had already boarded and alighted from the bus at Taemin’s stop. They stood at the street as they waited for the signal to cross, and Minho again noticed Jonghyun shifting his weight back and forth on his heels, holding his hands behind his back. He had not realized he had chuckled until Jonghyun was staring back at him with narrowed eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” Minho laughed. “You, you just look like a little kid.” He lifted his own head and put his hands behind his back, bouncing back and forth just like Jonghyun, adding a light-hearted whistle to complete the picture. He broke out into a smile and lurched forward, holding his stomach as laughed.
Jonghyun glared at him, and for a short moment Minho wondered if he had gone too far, but eventually Jonghyun’s face smoothed into a smile. He punched Minho’s shoulder lightly, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval.
The crowd around them noticed the light change before the two men had the chance, and they were soon pushed along by the mass of people to Taemin’s apartment building. They climbed the five flights of stairs to the floor shared by Kibum and Taemin’s family. Kibum’s door was marked with a strange wreath made out of shredded fabric and what looked like scrap metal.
“Isn’t it too early for that?” Jonghyun asked as Minho lifted the lower half of the “K” on the welcome mat (“Kim Family,” it said) in front of the door. The “K” had been partially removed by a simple seam ripper, which exposed a small cavity in which a spare key was stored.
“That, or it’s way too late,” Minho exhaled as he raised himself to his feet. “Or maybe it’s some strange artistic statement.” He inserted the lock into the doorknob and after a few desperate rattles pushed open the door. Two small dogs, a black and a brown one, rushed to the door, barking loudly. They maintained a small ring of empty space around the two men, forgoing attacking for toothed growling and short barks.
Jonghyun lowered himself to a squat, holding out one bent arm nearly half-way across the invisible boundary line. The dogs, these two long-haired dachshunds with legs like jelly beans, at first responded with frequenter and more powerful barks before quieting down to stare at the man. The brown one approached him cautiously. It sniffed Jonghyun’s fingers for a brief moment before rewarding him with a half-hearted lick. Jonghyun grinned widely. “I’m not too bad, right?” he asked, extending a finger to lightly brush the dog’s cheek.
The sound of claws on wood turned Minho’s attention to the far side of the room. A puppy stared up at him, shivering from a few yard away. It stared up at him desperately for a few seconds, and he madly questioned what he should do when it fled behind the nearby couch as fast as it could. Despite its speed, Jonghyun had still noticed.
Without a word, he rose back to his feet and approached the couch, the black dog only staring as he went past. Jonghyun kneeled in front of the couch, just in front of where the puppy had disappeared. He clicked his tongue quietly as he rested his forearm on the floor. “Come on, come here,” he cooed. “Come here, I won’t hurt you.”
Minho waited with just as much patience as Jonghyun, watching his slim shoulders move with each breath. He began to wonder just how long Jonghyun would wait when he noticed the Ice Cream Boy’s arms change position, bringing both hands in front of him. “Hi, hi, hello,” he murmured. “Hello, hello. Ah, you’re such a pretty puppy. So pretty.”
A few minutes later, Jonghyun brought himself slowly to his feet. He turned on his heel toward Minho. Pressed up against his chest was the puppy, one of his hands supporting it from below while the second was wrapped protectively around it. It was mostly black, with a light brown on its paws and dotted on its face.
“Isn’t she pretty?” Jonghyun muttered, looking up at Minho briefly before bringing his eyes back to the dog.
“She?”
Jonghyun nodded. “Yeah, it’s a she. And she’s pretty, right?”
“Yeah,” Minho whispered back, matching Jonghyun’s softer tone, as he was still speaking as though there were a sleeping infant in the room. “So, are you going to buy her then?”
“Of course, how could I turn down this cute face?” He bounced the puppy in his hands, humming behind smiling lips as he did.
Jonghyun had just enough cash to cover half the puppy, and they left the folded-up bills on the countertop along with a post-it note with Jonghyun’s number before exiting the apartment. Minho restored the key to its proper place and the two made their way down to the main floor.
“Would you mind…?” Jonghyun began, holding out the dog toward Minho. She trembled in his hands and her little claws dug into the back of his hand.
Jonghyun pulled out his phone and shuffled to the opposite end of the lobby. He had a brief conversation with someone on the other end before turning back toward Minho. “A friend of mine is on his way since I don’t think going on the bus is a good idea with her.” He gestured toward the puppy, then reached out his arms to hold it, like a child asking for something from his parent. Minho handed the dog over and watched as Jonghyun bounced her up and down in his arms. She seemed much more comfortable in Jonghyun’s arms than Minho’s.
“If you want, you can just head out now. I don’t want to make you wait, since you can just take the bus.”
Minho shook his head. “Nah, I’ll just wait. This gets me out of working anyway.”
“Oh, okay,” Jonghyun replied, turning his head down to smile foolishly at his puppy.
Silence fell over the two, the awkward shuffling kind. Jonghyun was in a bit of a better position, since he could entertain himself by cooing at his puppy, but Minho was left scraping his shoes uselessly on the floor, wondering if he should just leave rather than waiting around. He scoured his brain for something to say, to use these moments as best as he could.
“So,” he began, turning to face Jonghyun, who looked up at him. “What are you going to name her?”
Jonghyun blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that…What were her parents named?”
Minho shrugged. “Something French, I think.”
“French? Then should she have a French name too? That would be cute, wouldn’t it?”
Minho nodded.
Jonghyun clicked his tongue. “I don’t know anything French though...other than Paris and bonjour.”
“Well, there’s the Eiffel Tower and the...the…,” Minho scratched the back of his head. “That art place...Wat...Water. I don’t know. And the Rue...Rue…”
“Rue?” Jonghyun asked.
“I think it means street,” Minho explained. “There’s some famous street I’m trying to think of--”
“Rue, rue, rue, rue,” Jonghyun sang, swaying back and forth and staring at the dog in his arms. “Ruuuuueeeeeeeee.” He dipped the dog downward, like he was dancing with a beautiful woman. “Rue. My Rue,” he laughed.
Still leaning to the side, dipping his dog, Jonghyun looked up at Minho with smiling eyes. Minho thought his heart might stop. “How do you spell that?” he questioned, his grin bleeding into his voice.
“I-I don’t know, actually,” stuttered Minho.
Jonghyun stood straight again, squealing in satisfaction at the small dog’s startled whine. “Doesn’t matter. She’ll be mine, my Roo.”
Minho smirked. “Your Roo who will be eating up all your time from now on. You know puppies are a lot of work.”
Jonghyun pouted. “I’ll still have time. For example, I’m free at 7 on Friday.”
Minho’s heart stopped. “Huh?”
Jonghyun adjusted his position so he held the puppy in one hand and stretched his free arm toward Minho. "Can I see your phone?"
Minho reached into his pocket and dumbly obeyed. The whole word seemed heavier, oxygen must have become a poison because his chest felt like it was on fire. Had Jonghyun really just...? No, no there must have been some mistake. He watched as Jonghyun, shuffling back and forth on the balls of his feet, did god-knows what on his phone while his heart decided to do double-dutch.
Jonghyun handed his phone back to him a few agonizing moments later, the home screen open. "My friend should be here by now," he replied. “I’ll see you later. Friday.”
Minho nodded numbly. It seemed like his brain was swimming in tar as he watched Jonghyun leave the apartment complex, singing loudly and unashamedly to his new dog as he went.
| Part Two >>