#496 take me far (leave me reckless)

[seokmonsters]

Title: take me far (leave me reckless)
Pairing: xiumin/baekhyun
Side pairing(s): brief mentions of jongdae/liyin, kyungsoo/wendy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 17,468
Warnings: none
Summary: “Jongdae and I shared so much, almost everything, but we never shared you.”

Author's Notes: Sorry I strayed so far from the prompt. Hope you still find some enjoyment in it though. Title is from Shannon Saunder’s ‘Atlas.'





The sun has almost set by the time Minseok turns off his computer, his neck stiff and his eyes dry. A dull headache builds at his temples. He presses his thumbs against them, rubbing in a circular motion. It’s quiet, only the sounds of keyboards clicking and the shifting of bodies that have remained in the same position for hours. He packs up his things, pulling on his coat and tucking his scarf under the collar. He unplugs his phone from its charger and stuffs it in his pocket.

There are few coworkers still at their desks, and he bows his head as he thanks them for the good work before heading to the elevator. It's empty when he enters it. He presses the button for the ground floor, eying his reflection with a frown. His hair, parted to the side, is off, has been off since the morning. A fact that has been niggling at the back of his mind all day. He makes no attempt to fix it, knowing a lost cause when he sees one. He pulls his phone out from his back pocket, his fingers hovering hesitantly over the screen before making a decision.

byun baekhyun! are you free for dinner?

He steps out of the elevator and makes it all the way outside, shivering at the gust of wind, when he gets a reply.

did jongdae put you up to this?

Minseok stops walking, moving to the stand with his back pressed to the wall so he isn't in anyone's way. He frowns at Baekhyun's reply, caught and almost guilty. The truth is, Jongdae had called a couple of nights before. It was mostly to complain about the weak wifi signal, and about getting lost every time he leaves his apartment. But before he hung up, his voice staticky over the video call, he'd asked, “Hyung, I need a favor. Could you please check in on Baekhyun for me?" And when Minseok showed resistance to the idea, he’d added “Just take him out to a meal or something. Please, that’s all I ask. Check for signs of malnutrition. See if he’s sleeping. He says he’s fine when I ask, and the connection is always too pixelated for me to see for myself if he’s telling the truth.”

Jongdae was offering a partial truth, but Minseok, who wanted to ask why me or what are you hiding , hadn't quite known how to refuse. He bites his thumb.

i'm buying~

Baekhyun's next message comes when Minseok is fumbling with the keys to his car, his fingers stiff and shaky. He glances at it after turning on both the heater and the radio.

my shift ends @ 8:30
i expect meat

Asking Baekhyun to dinner at the very last minute was so he could tell Jongdae that he tried. He didn’t expect Baekhyun to say yes.

Minseok arrives at his apartment building, shuffling to get into it and out of the cold as quickly as possible. Late February evenings are unforgiving and Minseok dreads having to go out again later.

Walking into his apartment, he hangs his coat by the door, gently placing his bag on one of the dining table chairs. He has under half an hour to get ready. So he changes out of his suit and into warmer clothes, pops two aspirins into his mouth to ease the throbbing in his head, grimacing at the bitter taste they leave in his mouth when it takes him too long to pour himself a cup of water.

where do you work again? he types then erases, exiting the window and searching for a different name.

kyungsoo can you tell me where baekhyun works?

Kyungsoo provides the address without asking any questions, and Minseok thanks him. His head rests on the top of a sofa cushion. It’s comfortable and tempting but Minseok keeps his eyes open. To Baekhyun he sends, i'll pick you up and we can go together

A few minutes pass. Minseok taps restlessly on his thighs with both his hands.

can't wait

Minseok can't tell whether he's being sarcastic.

¤ ¤ ¤

Cheongdam is teeming with people. Minseok had almost forgotten what day it was. But walking in the streets, deftly avoiding bumping shoulders with anyone, it's clear that it's a Friday night. He squints at the store names. Kyungsoo said it was just past the Starbucks. The green of the coffee chain's sign catches his attention, and separated by a narrow side street, the Kolon Sports that Baekhyun works at.

The clock on Minseok's phone reads 8:21. He stands to the left of the clear glass doors, marked “Closed.” Behind him, a mannequin dressed in a puffy yellow coat. Various figures shuffle inside the store, the lights dimmed. He shifts his weight from one foot to another, wriggling and biting on his lower lip to keep from whimpering. So cold. He has his contacts open to Baekhyun's name when the door opens.

“Baekhyun-ah!" Minseok calls, and Baekhyun turns to his direction, raising his eyebrows when he spots him. Minseok scurries to him, his hands buried in his pockets. “You’re ridiculously punctual. As per usual,” Baekhyun mumbles into the the navy scarf he's wrapped around his neck. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Minseok retorts, a slight shake to his voice. So Cold. Baekhyun hums, walking without looking back to see if Minseok follows. "I'm hungry," he says over his shoulder.

They walk for a while, three steps, then two between them. A dark maroon backpack hangs from one of Baekhyun’s shoulders. Minseok itches to set the straps properly, to hold on to it so they don’t get separated in the crowd. When Minseok opens his mouth to ask where exactly they're going, Baekhyun makes a sudden right and steps into a restaurant. It's not a fancy place. The light board with its name is dim and rusting, but it seems clean enough.

Baekhyun leads him to a back table, plopping down on a plastic chair, haphazardly tossing his scarf and his bag on the chair beside his. He greets the ahjumma that works there with enough familiarity that Minseok guesses he's been here quite a few times before.

Minseok sits across from him, resting his hands on his lap. Baekhyun orders for the two of them, and they both unzip their jackets as the chill from before wears off. They watch the side dishes as they're placed in front of them in silence. When Minseok's gaze flickers up to Baekhyun, he finds him looking back at him in assessment. A piercing look that that Minseok isn’t sure what to make of.

"So, you got stuck with babysitting duty," says Baekhyun flatly. His chin propped on his palm. "I guess all my regular babysitters were booked."

Minseok rearranges the side dishes until they all perfectly align, picking up a piece of kimchi and chewing it slowly. "I don't mind. The hours are flexible and the pay is good." Baekhyun doesn’t laugh, but he he offers a stiff smile and that only adds to Minseok's discomfort. Baekhyun shrugs off his coat and it bunches up between his back and the back of his chair. Minseok takes off his own, folding it and placing it beside him.

The meat arrives and the grill is turned on. Minseok murmurs a thank you.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Just so you know," says Baekhyun as he slabs the meat onto it. There's a petulance to his voice, but his back is rigid and his mouth thin.

"I'm sure you are."

"Good. Now if you can please convince Jongdae of that. He'll listen to you, probably," says Baekhyun with a press of his lips. The ahjumma brings them their rice, sesame leaves and garlic.

“It’s hard to convince Jongdae of anything.” Especially when it comes to people he cares about, Minseok almost adds, but he can't think of a phrasing that isn't awkward. So he sips his water instead.

"I'm not a child. I'm not a pet or a plant either. I don't need someone to take care of me or check in on me like I might hurt myself if I’m left unsupervised,” Baekhyun says sharply, a knot between his eyebrows. He rests the tongs on the tray, still gripping them tightly. The last time Minseok saw him was at Jongdae's going away party. There was a quiver to his lips and a shake in his voice, and he kept blinking back tears when he thought no one was looking. That was almost two months ago, and though he had been upset then, there’s a tightness to Baekhyun's mouth that wasn't there before.

"I'm sorry if this.. upset you," Minseok says, uncomfortable and finding it difficult to keep from fidgeting. "I'm not upset," Baekhyun snaps and Minseok squares his shoulders at the heat in his tone. Baekhyun sighs, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "I'm not upset at you. I'm—" He purses his lips, leans back and the tension returns.

"It's okay. You don't have to.. We can just eat, catch up a bit and then go home," Minseok reassures. Baekhyun flips the meat.

It's unnerving, seeing Baekhyun this closed off. He cuts the meat into smaller pieces and Minseok watches his hands until they still. "I'm not upset at you," he says again, retracing his steps.

Minseok passes him the empty plates. Baekhyun's overgrown hair curls into his eyes, a dark shadow that makes him almost unrecognizable, but he makes no effort to sweep it away. Minseok flexes his fingers, curls them into fists, folds them on the table. "I'm not upset," Baekhyun says a third time, softly, almost to himself. Minseok really wishes he told Jongdae no.

A moment. The gears turn. Baekhyun looks to the eggshell wall to the right of him, and when he looks back he is smiling a drawn on smile

“Anyway, how's the office life, hyung? Still uninteresting?” asks Baekhyun, charm and cheer still not quite in place, more placid than bright. He flicks the hair out of his eyes and Minseok sees the dark circles under them. The change is welcome if artificial. The air slowly returns to Minseok’s lungs. Baekhyun places some of the cooked meat onto one of the plates, then nudges it to Minseok. He wants to ask are you okay? but thinks better of it. “It’s not uninteresting.”

Banter is easy, is something Minseok can do. So he's relieved when they don't tread into any deeper topics for the rest of the meal. Baekhyun tells him about an incident that happened that day at the store with a difficult customer, and Minseok asks mundane questions to keep the conversation going, but it’s all half as energetic as Minseok’s used to from him, half as loud.

He walks Baekhyun to the subway station after they're done. "You didn't have to meet up with me," he says before they part ways.

"I know," says Baekhyun. His hands in his pockets, his scarf back in place, his bangs shielding his eyes. Most of his face is obscured and his voice is unreadable. "Don't worry about it.”

"I really am sorry if I — I was just following orders. You know how Jongdae gets.” Minseok shrugs nervously. Never again, he thinks.

Baekhyun looks down at his shoes, scuffed black sneakers that kick at the pavement.

"I know."

Minseok watches his retreating figure until it disappears into the throng of people. His stomach feels heavy all the way home.

¤ ¤ ¤

"The work never seems to end, does it?."

Minseok turns away from the blinking cursor on the spreadsheet he's got open, readjusting the glasses that have slipped down the bridge of his nose. Joonmyun stands with two paper cups in his hands, his lips curling up into a cordial smile. Minseok mirrors it, nodding his head in agreement. "It doesn't. I'm pretty sure I have more left to do now than when I started." He makes a put out expression, but Minseok doesn't mind the work, not really.

"I got coffee," says Joonmyun, extending one of the cups. He's added too much water. Minseok has had enough of Joonmyun's coffee in the month since he'd moved to Minseok's department to know that without looking, but he still accepts it with both of his hands. "Thank you," he says.

"Don't mention it. You looked like you needed it," says Joonmyun. His free fingers curl idly over the top of Minseok's chair.

"I always need coffee," says Minseok. "Or at least, I’m always grateful for it." Joonmyun smiles wider, friendlier. His teeth are worthy of a toothpaste ad, straight and obscenely white.

“I’m not much of a fan it, myself. I just drink it out of necessity when I need an extra kick of energy. I’m more of a tea person.”

Joonmyun has the face of a prince or an heir or a drama lead. He dresses like all those things too, expensive and old fashioned. Minseok can imagine him drinking tea from fine china, eating imported biscuits.

Minseok glances at his computer monitor, then back up at Joonmyun's standing form. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to finish," says Joonmyun. Minseok nods at him He lingers for a moment before turning and walking back to his own desk.

Minseok goes back to the excel spreadsheet, tapping at his keyboard with one eye on the time. He belatedly remembers to sip the coffee, lukewarm and diluted. His phone, flipped on its screen so it doesn't tempt him, buzzes with a notification. Later, he tells himself. Another sip of instant coffee, another buzz. Curiosity getting the better of him, he sneaks a peak at the lock screen. Two KakaoTalk messages from Byun Baekhyun.

hey hyung
happy birthday!!

Minseok checks the date, suppresses a chuckle.

it’s the 16th.. my birthday is on the 26th

Someone asks him for a file. He pulls a blue folder from a shelf and hands it over. Two more buzzes.

damn it!! so close!!
better early than late?

Last year he’d only remembered a week into April. Minseok never minds. It’s nice that he cares enough to say anything at all. Minseok doesn’t even know which month Baekhyun’s birthday is, only that it’s before Jongdae’s.

you should write it down or something
it’s been years.. i don’t think it’ll ever stick >.<;

Minseok feels a smile pull at his lips.

next year for sure!

He thinks back to the tightness around Baekhyun’s eyes, around his mouth, how the tone of his voice was lower than usual. When Jongdae asked him how it had gone, Minseok had said, “He didn’t appreciate you sending me.” Jongdae waved that off, asking about how Baekhyun looked. Minseok wanted to say that Baekhyun seemed. like a dimmed down version of himself. Instead, he said “He’s fine. Please never involve me again.” The pit of his stomach is still not quite light.

are you free this weekend?

Minseok stares down at the question. He has the gym in the morning, a hamper full of dirty clothes, shoe shopping with his sister on Sunday.

why?

He picks up a black ballpoint pen, rolls it between his index finger and his thumb. “I’m sorry,” Jongdae said. “I was just worried. It’s hard, being so far away. I have to take your word for things and neither of you are to be trusted when it comes to yourselves.” Then he added, “I’ll talk to him.”

want to get coffee with me?

The invitation takes him by surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s to make up for the disaster of last time. A peace offering.

“Minseok-ssi, Choi team-jang asked if you’re done with the documents he had you work on.”

Minseok straightens his back, his focus returning to his monitor. “Just about.”

Two hours later, he types a simple sure~

¤ ¤ ¤

Minseok watched Baekhyun walk past the Tom n Toms they’d agreed to meet at, then backtrack and stumble in, yet he still jumps when a figure looms over his table.

“You know, as a coffee snob I thought you’d be morally against coffee chains or something.”

“Who says I’m a coffee snob?” Minseok asks, pushing the chair in front of him with his foot so Baekhyun would sit. He doesn’t take it. “No one has to say it. People get you expensive coffee beans as a gift. Don’t you think that says something in and of itself?” Minseok rolls his eyes, more amused than annoyed. Standing, he says, “I’ll order for us. What do you want?”

“I’ll come with you.”

They look up at the menu boards for ten solid minutes as Baekhyun reads them over and over. He finally decides on a non-caffeinated walnut drink to Minseok’s chagrin. “That’s like a walnut milkshake. It doesn’t even have any coffee in it.” Baekhyun merely nudges him to the cash register.

“That’s the point. Ask them if they can add some chocolate syrup.”

They take their drinks back to their table and Minseok watches Baekhyun sip from his drink with thinly veiled disgust. “Is it good?”

Baekhyun offers a noncommittal shrug. “Want to taste it?” Minseok grimaces. “Not even a little.”

He shakes his cup so the ice in his iced americano rattles. “Want to taste mine?” Baekhyun eyes it with distrust, but Minseok still thrusts it in his direction. “It’s good,” he insists. Baekhyun pulls away. “I’ve tried it before. It was revolting.” Minseok almost pushes further, but he restrains himself.

“How are things at the store?”

“Busy. The new spring collection just arrived. Lots of shelving to do,” replies Baekhyun. He pulls at his straw and it makes a grating sound as it rubs against the opening of the plastic cover. His hair is out of his eyes today, a black snapback pulling it back. All Minseok can think to ask about is work, but he can tell Baekhyun doesn’t particularly want to talk about it. “I’m—“ Baekhyun begins, one of his legs rhythmically shaking. “I’m sorry about last time. I was going through something and I took it out on you.”

The table hasn’t been wiped thoroughly enough. There’s a sticky stain near one its corners. Once he’s seen it, Minseok finds it difficult to look away. “Don’t be sorry. It was my fault.”

“Let’s just say it was Jongdae’s fault and leave it at that.”

Minseok smiles with something akin to relief. “What was he thinking?”

“I think the question you’re looking for is was he thinking?”

It’s weird still -even without the thick, dark cloud that hovered over them the last time- being with Baekhyun, alone.

“I have a job interview. Next week.” He lifts the straw to his mouth, chewing on the tip of it instead of sipping.

Minseok blinks with mild surprise. “Oh? That’s good.”

“It’s at jTBC.” He’s looking at the table behind Minseok.

Minseok wrings his mind for some words of encouragement. “I— I’m sure you’ll do well.” And Baekhyun hums, like he knows that’s not true. “I don’t do well with interviews. I guess I don’t leave the best first impression.”

Minseok cocks his head.

The first time he’d ever laid his eyes on Byun Baekhyun, the white shirt of his middle school uniform had been smattered with dirt, his eyes oddly bright as if there were too much of him to be truly contained. Minseok remembers that day vividly. Baekhyun’s loose grip on the strap of his school bag, the fact that his shoelaces were untied, a hazard to both himself and others, the fibers of their ends unraveling. That ugly bowl cut that left most of his forehead exposed, the scabs on his forearms. When Jongdae had introduced them near the entrance of his and Minseok’s apartment building, Baekhyun had smiled a square devious smile, his face specked with more dirt. Everything about him suggested mischief, hinted at trouble.

“That’s not true.”

Batting his eyelashes, Baekhyun says, “Did I charm you right off the bat?”

Not quite, Minseok thinks, but he opts for being kind. “Maybe.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could say the feeling was mutual, but it wasn’t. You looked like the type of person who studied for fun.”

Minseok blinks in shock for a few seconds and before he can really think about it, he leans forward and punches Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Punk.” Baekhyun laughs, a loud jarring sound that turns a few heads. “I’m kidding,” Baekhyun amends. “Not about the recreational studying, but I did think you were kind of charming, in your own nerdy way.”

“You sound so sincere,” Minseok say dryly and Baekhyun laughs again.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Minseok looks at the stain again. Did he touch the table? He can’t remember. Slowly his hands feel heavier as if weighed down by germs. He has yet to decide if it bothers him enough to do something about it. He has antibacterial hand wipes in his bag. Baekhyun observes him like he knows what he’s thinking and is wondering too. Minseok tears his eyes away.

Baekhyun has yet to drink from his drink beyond the initial sip. Minseok is about to comment on it when Baekhyun asks, “So, any plans for your birthday?”

“Not really. Well, other than dinner at my parents’ house.”

“Boring~,” Baekhyun singsongs. “Too old to do anything fun?”

Too busy, Minseok almost corrects. His friends are too, scattered across Seoul, Asia, the world. Minseok can’t remember the last time they all occupied the same space at the same time, can’t remember the last time he’d wanted them to.

“What do you suggest I do, then? Throw a party?”

“I don’t know. Whatever constitutes as fun in your world. Though knowing you, hyung, it’d probably be drinking fancy coffee from one of those tiny little cups and watching a tvxq concert dvd.”

Minseok raises an eyebrow, a twitch to his lips. “Wow. You know me so well.” Baekhyun grins at that. “You can call me if you want a young, vibrant influence to distract you from how much closer to thirty you’re getting. I know Jongdae used to have that job.”

Minseok snorts at that. “You’re only two years younger than me, and twenty seven isn’t that old.”

Jongdae used to sleep over and they’d eat junk food and leftover birthday cake right out of the box, sipping on soda or hot cocoa even when they were both old enough to drink alcohol. Minseok’s sister would sometimes join them in the earlier years, stealing her favorite snacks from the plastic convenience store bags and interrogating Jongdae on school because she was the more competitive sibling and she liked to make sure she was always ahead.

It didn’t make him feel either young or vibrant, but it was practically tradition. Jongdae laughing in the dead of the night, his sharp corners digging into Minseok’s side.

“Yeah, but think about how younger I am than you in spirit.”

Minseok scoffs, kicking Baekhyun’s shin under the table. Not enough to hurt.

He’s caught a bit off guard. Baekhyun acts so at ease and familiar with him, as if they don’t regularly go months without talking. They’ve known each other for so long, but their interactions have been so limited. Birthday parties, graduations, the talent shows Baekhyun and Jongdae liked to compete in. They almost never get together just the two of them. Jongdae is always there. Sometimes Kyungsoo -the only member of Jongdae’s group of friends that Minseok contacts of his own volition- is there too.

He wonders why.

Finishing up, Minseok watches Baekhyun pour his barely touched drink down the stainless steel funnel. “Tell me how your interview goes.” Baekhyun throws out the plastic, wipes his damp hand on his pants and says, “Okay.”

¤ ¤ ¤

The week leading to the twenty sixth is more tedious than enjoyable. Dongwoo calls on Monday to ask Minseok out to drinks as a an early -or late, whatever works- birthday celebration, and his girlfriend will be coming so how about she brings a friend. You know, to even out the number. It’s the same routine every time. A blissfully in love Dongwoo is a Dongwoo that wants to spread the love.

Minseok thanks him for the gesture then says, “I’m not interested in a double date.” He gets a long -at times incomprehensible- lecture on opening the door to new opportunities and how the heart is a muscle that needs to be trained. Minseok only half listens, wiping the kitchen counters with his phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder.

Dongwoo sighs when he doesn’t get the response he was aiming for, knowing not to press further. He concedes to a one-on-one drinking date on Friday night.

On Tuesday, Hakyeon cancels the lunch they had planned at the very last minute. i’m so sorry. something came up at work.. reschedule? Minseok ends up buying a sandwich from the FamilyMart down the street and eating it in the break room, stuffing bites of his sandwich into his mouth as Joonmyun chats about the changing weather.

Wednesday, Jinki and Jonghyun treat him to Itaewon tacos -the same place they’ve frequented since college- and interrogate him on his social life as subtly as they can manage.

“Minseokie, all you do is work. You’re too young for a life so dull.”

“I’m twenty seven.”

“Exactly.”

Thursday, the day of his birthday, he has dinner at his parents house. All his favorite dishes are prepared and his mother fawns over him, piling food on his plate and urging him to eat more.

“You’re thinner every time I see you. I don’t know what you eat living all alone, but it’s obviously not enough.”

His sister laughs at him as he tries to convince his mother that he eats just fine, as he gently pushes her hand away. His father brings up a news story he’s read about. His sister gives him his gift, a coffee mug, like she’s gotten him every year since he turned sixteen. He’ll keep it on his kitchen counter, right next to the coffee machine and use it every day until his next birthday rolls around. It’s bright blue this time. On one side, a round yellow sun with rays that radiate to the rim of it.

“Minseokie, remember my friend Park Seungah? She has a son only slightly older than you, Kim Junho. You used to play together when you were kids.”

Minseok stifles a sigh. He already knows where this is headed. “No, I don’t remember.”

“She goes to our church. Anyway, she has a daughter. She’s about your sister’s age and very pretty. She’s a teacher at a middle school. History, I think she teaches. So smart and very filial. I’m sure you’d like her.”

Minseok sets his chopsticks down, no longer hungry.

“Mother, please. I’d rather we not get into this today.”

“Just meet her once, that’s all I ask.”

Minseok purses his lips. “You know how I feel about you setting me up. If I want to find someone, I’ll look for someone myself.” His tone is sharper than he intended, but at least it gets his mother to close the subject. A temporary pause in the conversation, he’s sure. His mother can be very persistent.

When he gets home that night, he starts a video call with Jongdae with a box of the remaining quarter of strawberry shortcake, a fork and apple cider at hand. Jongdae is waiting with a cola can and a snack cake. “Happy birthday, hyung!”

They stay online for over an hour. Jongdae talks about his coworkers, his new friends, about the strange food they had him trying for the first time, about how much warmer Beijing is than Seoul. His voice turns softer when he brings up a woman who works on his floor and always has suggestions of places for him to visit, turns loud and pitchy when Minseok teases him over it.

If Minseok closes his eyes, it’s almost like last year or the year before that, Jongdae walking around in his sweatpants, feet bare despite Minseok’s protests of it’s too cold you’ll get sick.

He keeps his eyes open.

Saturday is long. Minseok spends the morning lifting weights, the afternoon cleaning his apartment, pushing pieces of his furniture aside and scrubbing the floor until his arms ache. He rearranges the contents of his kitchen cupboards, washing the never used glasses hidden in the back of them, cleans out the already barren fridge. The tv, when he turns it on, is showing a drama about a poor girl who wants to be the best shoe designer in South Korea. Minseok watches it even though the plot is trite and the acting subpar. The male lead shouts his lines, the girl keeps crying.

When it’s over he stares up at the ceiling and sighs.

In the evening, Minseok digs through a box buried in the back of his closet, pulling out a dvd box set. He inserts it into his laptop, connecting it to the television and hitting play. A few minutes into it, he makes a decision. Taking a picture of his screen, he types look how well you know me.

ha! i knew it!

Minseok feels a smile pull at his lips. He looks around the empty living room, at the encroaching darkness outside the window, at the performance paused midmovement.

do you still have your old light stick?

no. it’s probably lost in my old room or in jongdae’s old room

He hears the refrigerator whirr in the kitchen, the thud of a door outside his own, voices close then farther away.

tsk tsk. i guess you’re going to have to borrow one of mine~

is that an invitation, hyung?

are you at work?

nope. i get saturdays off

There’s space on the sofa even when he lies down and stretches his toes.

then i hope you’re in the mood for fancy coffee

It takes Baekhyun nearly an hour to arrive. Minseok spends it tidying up invisible cluster. He rings the doorbell three consecutive times, and laughs when his eyes fall on Minseok’s red BigEast t-shirt. “Oh my god. It’s like I’m seeing eighteen year old you all over again.” Minseok rolls his eyes, moving out of the entryway so Baekhyun can come in.

“So this is where you live,” Baekhyun says, inspecting the place. He swipes a finger on the nearest surface and inspects it for dust. “It’s exactly how I imagined.”

Minseok pulls two light sticks from the box that has been moved to the coffee table. Baekhyun shifts closer to peak inside it. “You have a fandom box?” he asks as he accepts a light stick, grinning. “That’s so cute. It’s like your own little treasure chest.”

“Shut up or I won’t share.”

Baekhyun clamps his mouth shut, making a show of obedience. Mirth twinkles in his eyes. “So,” he begins, sitting on the arm of the off-white leather sofa instead of on a seat cushions. “Which concert are we watching?”

“Third live tour.”

Baekhyun hums. “Which one was the one we went to? The three of us.”

“That was the third Asia tour,” Minseok replies.

He had been eighteen - a month away from graduating- and out of all the memories he accumulated that year, the concert was one of the dearest. He had been mesmerized, his eyes glued to the stage, his breath snatched right out of his lungs. And as he gaped at his idols, at the blinding lights, he remembers the constant knock of Baekhyun’s shoulder against his, the volume of Baekhyun’s cheering, almost as loud as his own. “It was the only time you came along.”

“Don’t forget SMTown. We went to that together once,” Baekhyun supplies. Minseok scrunches up his nose. “It doesn’t count if we don’t sit in the same section.”

“My loyalty lied elsewhere.” Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows. “We had an event planned, with banners and everything.

“For Kim Taeyeon, God’s gift to our eyes and our ears? I remember.”

“Who else?” Baekhyun laces his fingers, tucking them under his chin, and fluttering his lashes. He chuckles, mostly to himself. “That was such a long time ago. I should have kept a fandom box like you. I don’t know where half the stuff went.”

Minseok can’t imagine losing any of the things he has in his box. He carried every single item out of his childhood bedroom and into his apartment. They’re a part of his history, too dear to outgrow.

“We can watch the third Asia tour dvd if you want.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll be able to find our faces in the crowd. The stars in your eyes probably make you easy to spot.” Minseok reaches out and slaps his knee, and Baekhyun laughs.

The dvds get replaced, the first one tucked back into its sleeve, then back into the box.

“You really are a devoted fan. I bet you own every piece of merchandise SM has ever sold. It’s so cute.”

Minseok glares at him, but Baekhyun is unfazed, looking at Minseok like he’s a particularly harmless kitten. “I don’t regularly do this by the way. You,” Minseok accentuates the word with a point of his index finger. “Planted the idea in my head. I haven’t opened this box in a very long time.” Baekhyun grins. “So impressionable~,” he says, sliding from the arm of the couch and onto a cushion.

“I don’t know how I could have ever thought that I was too old for idols. Look at you. So old and yet so enthusiastic.”

“I’m twenty seven not seventy two,” Minseok grumbles with a subtle twinge of annoyance. When he sits down, he leaves enough space between him and Baekhyun for a third person to occupy.

It doesn’t take long for Minseok to be engrossed in the performances, mouthing the words to the lyrics he’d memorized years ago. His attention is only stolen by Baekhyun, who laughs at old hairstyles, attempts -terribly- some of the dance moves, tries to harmonize along with them.

“You’re ruining a beautiful thing,” Minseok whines. So Minseok has no choice but to teach him the right footwork, how to position his elbows and angle his chin. He corrects him when he gets the words wrong, the tone wrong, the feel wrong. Sings with him, loud but steady to Baekhyun’s loud and shrill.

“Next time, we should do noraebang,” Baekhyun suggests in the middle of Purple Line, and Minseok agrees before he can find any reason not to.

The first cd ends, but Minseok doesn’t move to replace it. Instead he asks, “How was your interview?” Baekhyun startles at the question, like he didn’t think Minseok would remember, like he didn’t think he’d care, like Minseok hadn’t asked to be kept updated.

“It was,” Baekhyun hesitates, a subtle downward curl to his shoulders. For a moment it looks like he wishes he’d never told Minseok about it. “It went just like I expected it to,” he continues, his bitterness too potent to cover. Minseok doesn’t think it would be very helpful if he just said “I’m sorry.” So he doesn’t.

The mood of the room goes down considerably. The Baekhyun in front of him reminiscent of the one he saw a month ago. A flickering light -once so bright- about to go out. He wonders what dimmed him down then, but knows better than to ask. He stands, offering his hand for Baekhyun to take. “Let’s get something to drink.”

“You know, I really hoped by drink you meant alcohol,” Baekhyun says as he watches Minseok work the Nespresso machine. “Caffeine is better than alcohol,” Minseok says as he pulls two mugs for them to use. When he presents Baekhyun with a cappuccino, Baekhyun frowns down at it. “I don’t like coffee. At all.”

“I wasn’t aware you tried every kind of coffee and were therefore informed enough to make a decision,” Minseok says dryly. “Just try it. I won’t force you to finish it.” Baekhyun takes a sip of it, grimaces, and to Minseok’s horror, pours four teaspoons of sugar into it. When he sips it again he sets it down and pushes it away. “Don’t like it.”

Minseok makes him hot chocolate and swallows down the lecture he has stuck in his throat. Baekhyun hums with satisfaction when he drinks it. They stand like that for a long moment, their fingers curling around porcelain. “I could help you prepare.. The next time you have an interview.” He says it just as the thought crosses his mind. Baekhyun raises his eyebrows, his mouth gaping slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. We could do mock interview questions. Going through the possible questions and dissecting your answers could help figure out why the previous interviews didn’t work out.” Minseok has done a lot of those. With his friends, with his sister, with Jongdae before the interview that got him his job, with Kyungsoo once, when he was desperate enough for an internship position to ask for help. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Baekhyun considers the offer, eying Minseok with something he can’t quite put a name to. Then finally, he says, “Okay. That would be nice. Thank you.”

They order takeout and watch the second cd. Baekhyun doesn’t resume his singing or his dancing, but he still talks enough to keep the change from being too unsettling. Minseok watches him from the corner of his eye and wonders how he could know someone for so long and yet know him so little.

Halfway through a particularly slow ballad, Baekhyun asks “How was your birthday, hyung? Was it all you’d imagined it would be?”

Minseok lowers the volume until it’s nothing but a soothing whisper. “It was—” So many different brands of advice, or maybe just one. You’re too old to be so stubborn. Too young to be so bland. Minseok knows what it was they really wanted to say. Your life is not enough. Something’s missing. Can’t you see it? Because we all can.

“What you’d imagined, but not what you’d hoped?”

There’s a thick coat of black bean sauce on Baekhyun’s lips. Minseok licks his own clean just in case they’re the same. “I hadn’t hoped for anything. It’s just.. I guess my birthday was a good opportunity for people to tell me what they really think of my life and how they think I should fix it.” Birthday’s are good at magnifying all of Minseok’s shortcomings in his own eyes as well. He’s glad this week is finally over.

“It’s nobody’s business how you live your life. I hate unsolicited advice.” Baekhyun picks at loose threads sticking out of garish green socks, his legs crossed. They way he says it indicates he’s received a lot of it.

“Me too.”

When Baekhyun leaves that night with a yawn and a wave, Minseok catches sight of his reflection in the mirror by the coatrack. His hair, long enough to cover his ears, his wire frame glasses, the oversized red shirt. If he squints, it does somehow feel like a glimpse into the past, his eighteen your old self looking back at him.

He wonders what he sees.

¤ ¤ ¤

April brings with it a respite from the cold. Minseok no longer has to wear three layers under his sweaters. Spring is near, and it has always been Minseok’s favorite season. Gradually, the weariness of winter subsides, the dull hue of it brightening. With the relief of the warming weather, Minseok also finds himself antsy and suffocated. The four walls of his apartment and the three of his cubicle closing in on him. He takes his lunch outside on the days his time permits it.

He had thought, or hoped, that the melancholy of winter would fade as well. Yet he still returns to an empty apartment every evening. Had thought that it would be less.. quiet, less dull. What a naive thought. He turns up the television’s volume to drown it out.

He hasn’t heard from Baekhyun since the night he came over almost two weeks ago. His phone sits heavy on his desk, in his pocket, a peculiar urge tingling his fingers. Thinking back on how Baekhyun closed off in a way that was both hard to pinpoint and hard to miss, how it was so easy to talk to him about the things that Minseok found frustrating, Minseok is more curious than anything.

When he gets off work he takes a different route than usual, thinking up excuses for his detour. He’s never been good at improvising. I was just in the neighborhood.. He reaches his destination and braces himself.

Kolon Sports is easier to find the second time around. Minseok stops at the Starbucks first, grabbing a drink to make him look more.. casual. The thought makes him laugh exasperatedly at himself, but he goes through with it anyway. Thought I’d see where you work.. When he walks into the store, he realizes that he doesn’t even know if Baekhyun even works Wednesday evenings. I didn’t have anything better to do so I thought I’d stop by..

To keep with the casual facade, Minseok strolls between the racks, browsing. The pads of his fingers flitting from one item to another. I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to a place where no one was waiting for me..

“Can I help you?” Minseok looks away from the display of hiking shoes. An employee, young and lanky and visibly bored, stands with his hands limp at his side. He cocks his head when Minseok provides no response, his platinum blond hair shifting with the movement.

“No,” Minseok finally says. “Thank you.”

He grunts and walks away. Minseok’s eyes follow his retreating figure to the cashier desk where a girl stands, leaning on it and examining her nails. There are no other customers. A loud exhale escapes his lungs through his nose. Disappointment, maybe. Minseok turns around, on his way to door, when he hears “Hyung?”

Baekhyun, clad in the uniform navy polo, the store’s logo embroidered in green over the left breast, comes out of what seems to be the storage room. “What are you doing here?” Minseok stands straighter, smiles casually. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the new spring collection since you told me about it. I had to come and see it for myself.”

Confusion is evident in the furrow of Baekhyun’s brows, in the way his mouth pulls to one side, contemplating, but it doesn’t last long. “I don’t believe you.” He singsongs. “You missed me didn’t you? You came to see me. ” Minseok rolls his eyes. Baekhyun pokes him with his elbow. “Admit it. You want to be my new best friend now that there’s less competition for my attention.”

Minseok scoffs, rolls his eyes a second time, this time harder to make a point. The teasing wards off some of the awkwardness. “If this is how you treat customers, I’m thinking of filing a complaint.” Baekhyun laughs, lightly gripping Minseok’s arm as if to stop him. “Did you just get off work, hyung?” Minseok pulls at the hem of his suit jacket, adjusting it. “What gave you that idea?”

Baekhyun softens his grip, his fingers grazing the fabric before withdrawing completely. Minseok’s hand feels wet, despite the cardboard sleeve that separates his palm from the dewy plastic cup. He opens his mouth but he’s not sure what he wants to say.

“The suit makes you look your age. Almost.”

“You’ve never seen me in a suit before?” Minseok asks, surprised. He’s just started his second year at his company.

“First time.”

Minseok feels a sudden impulse to look in a mirror. A customer walks in, they shuffle away from the entrance and farther into the store, stopping by a rack of shiny windbreakers. Minseok hears the blond employee offer monotonous assistance.

“So,” Baekhyun starts. “What was your plan? Come here and..?” So straightforward, Minseok can’t help but think. The windbreakers don’t squeak in the way they seem like they would when he rubs them together.

“I’m very.. I was bored, and I’ve found that I kind of enjoy your company. So..” He makes a gesture that could mean go or please or whatever. Baekhyun’s gaze is piercing then subsequently lighter. He makes a show of thinking about it before settling on a smile. Fluttering his lashes he says, “You really know how to make a guy feel special. Coming all the way here in a spiffy suit and telling me I’m wonderful company.”

A flush climbs Minseok’s neck, trickles down his cheekbones. “I never said wonderful.” Baekhyun continues as if he hasn’t heard him. “You must have been really bored to have come all the way here for entertainment.”

There are four books on Minseok’s nightstand with bookmarks wedged between the pages of their first chapters.

“So, are you going to buy anything?” Baekhyun’s hair is parted unevenly in the middle, a lone strand limp on his forehead.

“Nah. Not much of an outdoorsman.”

Another customer walks in.

“Hmm.. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find all your hiking necessities. The new spring colors are really pretty.”

There’s a breath in Minseok’s chest that wants to rush out of his lungs. Not relief, but something similar.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He’s about to take a step back and say goodbye or see you later or get back to work when Baekhyun adds, wringing his fingers until he notices that Minseok has noticed.

Minseok thinks lonely. He’s not sure which one of them he means.

“And hyung.. Next time you’re bored, you can call or text me. I’m always bored. I’ll reply.”

“Okay.”

Baekhyun offers him a square smile with melting corners.

“Okay.”

¤ ¤ ¤

It’s easy to lose track of time. Seasons fly by, holidays come and go, whole months end in the blink of an eye even you think they’ll stretch on forever.

April turns out to be a month of Minseok finding his footing in the precarious friendship he and Baekhyun have managed to mold. A shift, sudden, then gradual. Very little days pass without a message, usually to complain about something small and insignificant. It’s almost comforting, talking about nothing.

Baekhyun likes to send pictures of himself pouting at the camera, likes to ask existential question at one in the morning. do you think there are ghost animals haunting living ones? do you ever wonder if you’re the only real person and everyone else is merely an illusion? Minseok usually gets to them over breakfast before he leaves for work.

there’s no such thing as ghosts.
do you??

In turn, Minseok tells him about the shoe designer drama he’s now an avid watcher of. There’s live commentary on the days they both watch it live, recaps on the days one them is too busy. Baekhyun likes the soundtrack.

chanyeol is losing it.. he keeps accusing me of moving his papers.
he yelled at me for like half an hour because he’s sure i moved his lab report from one end of the coffee table to the other! like it even matters!
the pressure is getting to him.. i don’t think he’ll make it to his graduation

The year Jongdae started middle school, and subsequently met Baekhyun, was one of the most stressful of Minseok’s life. He was in his third year, desperate to get into a good high school, and most of what he remembers from that year were long hours hunched over his desk, in his classroom/ at hagwon/ in his room by his bed, going over math problems and English vocabulary and Korean, his worst subject. The stress -misplaced and excessive- snowballed until it had almost crushed him. He lost so much weight, whole patches of hair. It was worse than when he studied for his university entry exams, three years later.

Minseok still doesn’t know why it had mattered so much.

well, is he right?

Jongdae didn’t come over as much that year. Minseok had no time for fun and Jongdae found a kindred spirit in Baekhyun who had the same boundless energy and thirst for adventure. Minseok heard their voices in the hallways, always way too loud, long before he saw them. Jongdae would tell him about all they had gotten up to whenever they had caught him. How they had discovered a new shortcut in the alleyways behind their school, coming across a stray cat with her kittens, too young to open their eyes, how she had hissed at them when they had gotten too close, how one of them -Baekhyun- had been dared to drink a weird concoction the other students had made and how he totally did it even though it had smelled awful and tasted even worse.

maybe.. it doesn’t help that his shit is everywhere!
it’s also fun to slowly drive him insane, add some spice to his sad grad student life.
he used to be so fun

Contrary to Jongdae’s long-winded but enthusiastic retellings, Baekhyun, who’s voice Minseok was used to hearing through thick concrete walls, was mostly silent. He always stood a step behind, half-shielded by Jongdae’s wiry frame.

i pity him

Minseok would have been sure that Baekhyun didn’t like him had he taken the time to think about it.

don’t waste your pity on him. waste it on me!!
i’m the real sufferer in this living arrangement

The foundation of their relationship, Minseok realizes, was built wrong or rather barely built at all. Baekhyun had learned to bite his tongue around Minseok who was frazzled and sleep-deprived, and Jongdae got used to approaching Minseok alone. Ultimately, the pattern stuck.

he prints out disgusting pictures of ~bacteria~ and leaves them on the couch!

Jongdae had always been their bridge, their middle ground, and their roles were clearly distributed. He and Baekhyun -who eventually started to act like himself- shared very few scenes. It wasn’t a deliberate exclusion. When Jongdae made plans with Baekhyun, Minseok wasn’t invited, and he never expected to be.

i don’t know.. i’m sure i’d rather live with chanyeol than with you and i’ve only met him once

This, contacting each other just because or merely to talk about trivial things, is new. An unexpected turn of events. Sometimes Baekhyun says something particularly Jongdae, and Minseok wonders if that’s why he’s suddenly drawn to a boy he’s known since he was fifteen but barely at all.

i know you only hurt my feelings to hide how you /truly/ feel

Most of the time he doesn’t sound like Jongdae at all.

¤ ¤ ¤

They go out to a movie on the last Saturday of the month. Minseok buys the tickets and Baekhyun buys the overpriced popcorn. They browse the posters of upcoming features as they wait and Baekhyun gives brief synopsizes of the ones he’s seen the trailers to.

They walk into their theatre just as the commercials begin, shuffling to their seats at the far end of a row near the back. Minseok fidgets in his seat until he’s comfortable. When Baekhyun nudges the popcorn tub in his direction, Minseok picks its clear cover from the plastic bag on the ground by their feet and has him pour him some.

Theirs is an action movie with mindless violence, robots, jaded heroes, a city that turns to rubble before it’s saved. It’s enjoyable enough -a formula that’s been done and done again- but the special effects are shiny and distracting, and the explosions so loud they startle him whenever he relaxes. Baekhyun snickers at him every time.

Baekhyun’s commentary runs through the whole film, pointing out plot holes and making suggestions to characters that can’t hear him. He leans his head against the space between their adjacent seats, his mouth close to Minseok’s ear so as not to disturb anyone else. His breath, damp and warm, tickles Minseok’s neck and he has to shift slightly away.

Walking out of the movie hall, Baekhyun asks “Did you like it?”

“I don’t know. You practically talked over all the dialogue so I’m not quite sure what even happened.” Minseok crosses his arms, gives him a levelled stare.

“I did not!” Baekhyun squawks, pushing Minseok’s arm lightly. Minseok pushes back, a little bit harder.

“You could have told me if I was annoying you. I’ve been told I don’t know when to shut up.” Baekhyun says it flippantly as he turns to the trash cans and throws out the empty popcorn container, but it still comes out as not very flippant at all.

“I’m not surprised,” Minseok says. He adds, “I would have if you did, annoy me I mean. It wasn’t that bad. You’re.. amusing.”

“You mean witty and hilarious,” Baekhyun puffs out his chest, his chin raised. Minseok rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to refute him. Instead he asks, “What do you want to do now?”

“You promised me noraebang.”

“Did I?” Minseok curls his index finger over his chin.

“Yes, you did. No backing out. Don’t feel threatened by my amazing vocals. I’m sure you’ll be able to hold your own.” As he says it, he slides his fingers down his trachea almost as if the rings of it are piano keys. Absentmindedly, Minseok wonders if he he knows how to play, a fact he feels like he should know but doesn’t.

Minseok gives him an impassive stare. “So humble.”

They find a place close to the movie theatre. Baekhyun starts them off with a girl group song Minseok has never heard before, high pitched and cutesy in a way Baekhyun shouldn’t be able to pull off but somehow does. Minseok would have been impressed had he not been laughing so hard his stomach cramps. He almost chants for an encore when Baekhyun thrusts the mic into his hands.

“Your turn.”

He selects an old ballad, a classic he chooses every time he’s asked to sing, and Baekhyun says “Boring~” even as he sits leaning forward, anticipating. Minseok ignores him, turns to the screen even though he knows the words by heart, and sings a particularly passionate rendition. Baekhyun cheers every time Minseok hits a high note, and his whoops almost break Minseok’s concentration, his mouth twitching.

He gets a standing ovation. It takes all of Minseok’s focus not to flush.

Baekhyun’s second song is a ballad too, something slow and miserable, the glint of a challenge in his eyes. It’s a difficult song to sing, but Baekhyun’s voice is pleasant when it’s controlled, warm and emotive in a way that makes Minseok want to ask what do you know about love and loss, and for a few minutes the dark room with its flashing lights and cheap leather sofa fades away. Baekhyun sings with an invisible line pulling on one corner of his mouth. The tambourine in Minseok’s hand sits on his lap unshaken.

“Did you just fall in love with me?~”

“What?” Minseok startles. The music has stopped. Baekhyun is grinning like he’s just won a game Minseok didn’t know they were playing.

“It’s okay hyung, my voice has that kind of effect on people. Did I ever tell you about the time I was scouted to be an idol, back when in high school?” When Minseok shakes his head, he continues, “A woman approached me when I was out with my friends in Myeondeong or somewhere near there and she gave me her business card.” He sits down. “She saw my potential without me even having to sing. Must have been my natural charisma and dashing good looks.”

Minseok vaguely remembers hearing the story in a different voice, in different words, at a time he wasn’t paying as much attention.

“Is your album still in the works then?”

“I didn’t audition, obviously. If I had I’d be the biggest star in all of Asia right now, my face plastered on billboards everywhere.” He frames his face with his fingers.

“Dating Kim Taeyeon?”

Baekhyun blinks, his expression off then back to what it had been just a moment before.

“Naturally.”

Minseok can imagine it, as farfetched as it sounds. Byun Baekhyun, Hallyu star.

“Why didn’t you audition?”

The sleeves of Baekhyun’s sweatshirt are pulled up, elastic stretching over the swell of his forearms. He picks at them as if to fix them. His dark hair flops over his eyes. He keeps pushing it back, but it returns just the same. It looks so soft.

“I don’t know. I guess it wasn’t really what I wanted. The woman seemed kinda sketchy too. I put her card in my pocket and told her I’d think about it, but I didn’t really.”

Minseok sets down the tambourine.

“Too bad. The whole of the continent could have fallen in love with you.”

Baekhyun picks it up, shakes it gently. He tilts his head, the hair shifting out of his face, to look at Minseok right in the face. He rests a hand on Minseok’s knee.

“I guess I’ll have to settle for just you.”

His is a new brand of teasing that Minseok still isn’t sure what to make of.

“I’m not there yet. Maybe after another song?”

Baekhyun grins. “I can do that.”

¤ ¤ ¤

“I’m telling you hyung, you can cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

Minseok brings a piece of kimbap to his lips, chews on it slowly.

“I don’t know Jongdae. To me it just sounds like she thinks you’re a helpless puppy.”

“She does not!” Jongdae squawks. “There’s a spark. You have to be there to see it. I really think she’s my soulmate, hyung. All the signs are there.”

The friendly coworker that has been giving Jongdae the names of the best restaurants in the area has been gradually brought up more often until Jongdae, tired of playing it cool, admitted he liked her. Liyin noona, he calls her reverently, and every time he does Minseok’s cheeks hurt from grinning. It’s kind of adorable.

“If you say so. I’ll be cheering for you regardless.”

Jongdae lets out a particularly hopeless breath, bravado waning. Minseok misses him in a way he can’t articulate, wishes he could push his hand through the screen, across the thousand of miles, and pat his hair gently, push it back away from his face and out of his eyes. There there Jongdae. It’s not so bad.

“I’m sure she’ll see how great of a catch you are eventually.”

“You did not just say that,” Jongdae grumbles. “You sound like my mother.”

Minseok scratches the side of neck with his right index finger, his thigh with his left. “You know how bad I am at this.”

Another sigh. “Yeah, yeah. You’re better than Baekhyun at least. He keeps giving me useless advice. Like he knows anything about..” He pauses. “Anything.”

Minseok smiles at that. It’s not hard to imagine the sort of suggestions Baekhyun would come up with.

“Is useless advice worse than no advice at all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Good advice would be great though.”

“Just be yourself,” Minseok offers with a shrug.

“Hyung,” Jongdae whines.

Minseok pushes himself back on the chair, scrunches his nose. “I’m out of practice so I can’t help you much. All I have to offer are clichés.”

A contemplative look settles over Jongdae’s features. “When was the last time you went out on a date, hyung?”

Minseok can’t remember. He pushes the remaining two pieces of kimbap around on the plate.

“It’s been a while.”

“And why’s that? You have time, so don’t say that you’re too busy.”

Minseok tenses. He hopes Jongdae’s getting as grainy a video feed as he is and can’t see it.

“Not you too. I’m just not— I just don’t want to. There isn’t a person shaped hole in my life that needs to be filled. I’m single by choice.”

“Aren’t you lonely?”

There are piles of books on the floor ready to be wiped of dust and alphabetized, three whole seasons of an American crime drama downloaded on his computer. He thinks back to the day he went to Baekhyun’s job and saw something in him that he’d seen in himself.

“Why would I be lonely?”

Jongdae drops the subject though it’s evident he has a lot more to say. Before he ends the video call, Jongdae asks “So, you and Baekhyun are friends now?”

Minseok shrugs, hums in acknowledgment. Baekhyun must have told him they’ve gotten friendly, friendlier.

“I can’t believe it took me leaving the country for you two to hang out with each other.” Jongdae is pouting, but he doesn’t seem that upset.

“Maybe you were the problem,” Minseok teases, adding a “Just kidding~” just in case Jongdae takes it to heart.

“It’s his birthday on the sixth.”

“Is it?” Minseok checks the calendar. Four more days until the sixth, a Wednesday.

“Yeah..” Jongdae looks the way he does when he wants something but doesn’t know how to ask for it. “Are you—“ he begins, then shakes his head and whatever question he had in mind away. “Buy him a slice of cake or something.”

Minseok wants to ask Jongdae why he’s waited for so long to get two of his closest friends to be more than acquaintances, if he likes to keep his life in separated sections the same way Minseok hates it when different foods touch on his plate. Were you afraid I’d steal him away? Were you afraid he’d steal me away? Why did you ask me to check in on him when you could have asked anyone else? But there’s a weird inflection in Jongdae’s voice, an unfamiliar hesitation. So he doesn’t ask anything at all.

“Does he like ice cream cake?”

¤ ¤ ¤

“So, what would you say your strengths are?”

They’re sitting across from each other at Minseok’s four chaired dining table, a melting glob of cake in the middle of it. It’s pralines and cream, three days late but still appreciated. Baekhyun had seemed oddly touched at the gesture even though he claimed he knew Jongdae was somehow behind it.

“My strengths?” Baekhyun repeats, the corners of his lips white and glistening and distracting. Minseok resists the urge to throw a napkin at him, to wipe them clean himself. “Hmm, I’m hard working, I guess.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” says Minseok, twirling his spoon. Clockwise, then anticlockwise, then clockwise again. His other hand pinches his jeans, rubbing the fabric to the same rhythm.

“It’s weird taking this seriously because it’s you,” Baekhyun whines. “Maybe we should both put on some suits. Do you think I could fit into one of yours?”

“Pretend it isn’t me then. Pretend I’m someone else and we’re somewhere else.”

Baekhyun keeps kicking him under the table, though it doesn’t seem entirely on purpose. Minseok retracts his legs and tucks them under his own chair.

“And I’m someone else? That’d help me get a job.” Baekhyun asks dryly, and Minseok can’t help but think that self deprecating is a shade too dark for him.

“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” says Minseok, nudging Baekhyun’s leg with his toe under the table in what he hopes is a comforting manner. “Imagine the suit if you think it would help.”

“I’m hardworking,” Baekhyun says again with more conviction. “I’m passionate and I’m resourceful. I always get the job done.”

“Elaborate,” Minseok requests, leaning forward and propping his chin on his enlaced hands.

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose, a pout forming, and it’s only after he licks some of the melted ice cream from his lips that Minseok realizes that he has yet to look away from them.

Baekhyun fumbles through his answer. Minseok helps him rephrase when his words aren’t quite right. They work through a few more questions, stopping only to put the remainder of the cake in the freezer before it drips onto the wood.

As they do, Baekhyun leans against the counter and asks, “Did you get the first job you applied for?”

Minseok closes the freezer door. “The second, actually.”

He had been aiming to high the first time. He didn’t really expect to get the job, but it sill stung a tiny bit.

“Ah, my mistake.” Baekhyun’s bangs now completely shield his eyes. He keeps parting them in the middle, but they just flop back. “I can’t remember how many I’ve applied for.” He presses his lips together and lets out an exhale through his nose. “You’d think the rejection would get easier to swallow with practice, but it really isn’t. If anything, it just gets worse.”

“It’s only been a year since you graduated. That’s not very long.”

“It isn’t,” Baekhyun concedes. “It isn’t a short amount of time either.”

Minseok wonders if he should pat him on his shoulder since he doesn’t know how to comfort with words, but Baekhyun gives him no opportunity to do so.

“Do you like your job, hyung?” he asks.

Minseok crosses his arms and leans back against the refrigerator. It’s warm against his back.

“I don’t know. I don’t hate it, but I don’t exactly anticipate going to work every morning.” It’s routine, really. Minseok likes that he’s a place to go every morning, but he can’t help but feel like he would be just as happy doing anything else. He wonders what that says about him.

“Are you telling me it wasn’t your life long dream to work in a cubicle?” asks Baekhyun with a teasing smile.

Minseok thinks back to his childhood fantasies, a list so long it would pile at his feet if he ever took the time to write it down.

“I wanted to be many different things growing up, but never this.”

“Like what?” Baekhyun asks, pushing away from the counter.

“A teacher, an architect, a barista, a soccer player. So many things.”

“Yet here you are, none of those things.” Baekhyun crosses his arms, looking at Minseok with interest.

Some of his aspirations weren’t practical. Some of them were, but he’d forgone them anyway.

“Here I am.” The kitchen is dark, but it feels like it’s too late to turn on the rest of the lights. “I don’t hate my job,” Minseok reaffirms. “I could have been something else, but I don’t regret being a measly office worker, as boring as it might seem to be.”

“No regrets? That must be nice,” Baekhyun says wistfully, and Minseok wonders what he wishes he’d done differently.

“What did you want to be?”

“Rich,” Baekhyun replies automatically. “It was a pretty vague life dream. There are a lot of ways to get rich, none of them easy.”

“You want to work at a television station,” Minseok comments. He had an interview at jTBC after all.

“I want to write for variety shows. I think—” He hesitates, curling in on himself a little. He looks so young, Minseok thinks. He is so young, even if only two years younger. “I think I’d be good at it.”

“I think so too.”

A pause. Baekhyun pushes his hair back. Most of it falls back.

“Thanks for this hyung.” He’s looking at the hinges of the freezer’s door then at its handle. “You really didn’t have to.” His mouth still looks sticky when he stretches it into a smile.

“It was nothing,” Minseok shrugs. Then he adds, “You should probably wash your mouth. You eat like a child.”

¤ ¤ ¤

would you rather have a short full life or a long meaningless one?

that’s a hefty question for breakfast..

¤ ¤ ¤

“You cut your hair,” Joonmyun comments when he walks into the office and stops at Minseok’s cubicle. “I did,” Minseok replies, having done so the night before, frustrated with the way it kept parting awkwardly, the way certain strands stuck out no matter how many times he tried to flatten them with his hands. “It was way too long and I couldn’t just grow it out forever.”

Joonmyun smiles pleasantly, his eyes crinkling. “It looked nice. It suited you. Short hair suits you too.” Joonmyun’s hair is exactly the same length it has always been, as if he doesn’t allow it to grow at all.

Minseok thumbs at his ear. It feels bare. He almost regrets cutting it, but hair grows back, his especially quick. “When I was in high school, my hair was long enough to cover my neck, almost down to my shoulders. I don’t know why I let it grow out that much. I cringe every time I look back at the photos. It looked so awful.”

Joonmyun adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, shifts his weight from one foot to another. His shoes, Italian and obviously expensive, are newly shined.

“I’m surprised you managed to. Didn’t your school mind?”

“Not really. They pretty much gave us free rein with our appearances, within reason of course. Most students didn’t abuse their freedom.”

They were too studious, too focused to rebel. Minseok was a senior, most of his time spent cramming for tests. The hair made him feel more interesting.

“My school was strict about hair cuts. I wanted to dye my hair, but that wasn’t allowed either,” Joonmyun says wistfully.

“What color?”

“I wanted to go blond, though now that I think about it, it was for the best that I couldn’t.”

Minseok tries to imagine Joonmyun, class representative most likely, in a school uniform with the same silver blond hair the boy at Kolon Sports was sporting.

Maybe Joonmyun had wanted to be a little more interesting too.

“I think you’d be able to pull it off, the blond.”

Joonmyun grins, and Minseok wonders if his teeth are naturally this straight or if he’d gotten braces. “Really?”

“It’s not too late,” says Minseok.

“I think it is.” Joonmyun probably means he’s too old, but Minseok thinks too grownup.

Another shift of the bag. It knocks against Joonmyun’s hip bone. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but changes his mind halfway through. Another smile, always so pleasant. “Well, I’ll get to work then.”

Minseok nods, lifts his fingers, his palms still pressed against the arms of his office chair and waves them slightly, a dismissal.

He swivels in his chair, pulls a folded tissue out of pocket and wipes the nonexistent smudges out of the lenses of his glasses. This morning he’d waken up to a text from Kyungsoo that read, want to have dinner together, hyung? it’s been a while. He’d readily agreed because it has been a while and time spent with Kyungsoo is always enjoyable, calming and comfortable in a way it can only be with someone so similar to him.

He waits for Kyungsoo to set a time and a place, leaving his cellphone in the upper drawer of his desk as he works. When he opens it during his lunch break he finds Kyungsoo’s suggestion of Minseok coming over to his apartment for a home cooked meal. He’s missed Kyungsoo’s cooking, a rare treat in and of itself, and accepts Kyungsoo’s offer with enthusiasm, thumbs up and heart-eyed emojis. They make a date for seven thirty in the evening, just enough time for Minseok to get back to his own apartment and change into something a little less stifling than a suit, and then set off to Kyungsoo’s apartment twenty minutes away.

Kyungsoo opens the door in a black sweatshirt, the color of his pants, his socks, his hair. The scent of spices wafts out from behind him and Minseok’s stomach twists with hunger. “Just in time,” he says, letting Minseok in and watching him slip his feet from his shoes. “We won’t be alone. I hope you don’t mind.”

Minseok looks to him in surprise. “Who’s joining us? Jaehwan?” He likes Jaehwan, Kyungsoo’s roommate and close friend. He’s polite and witty and he always has the funniest stories to share.

Kyungsoo lets out a long suffering sigh and before he has a chance to reply, someone peeks out from the kitchen. “Hey, hyung!”

It’s not Kyungsoo’s roommate.

“Baekhyun?”

“He just showed up without notice,” Kyungsoo grumbles. “Same as he always does.”

Baekhyun comes up to them, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo’s torso, his chin digging into Kyungsoo’s narrow shoulder. “You love my surprise visits. You don’t have to pretend around Minseok hyung. We can all see through your act.”

Kyungsoo extracts himself from Baekhyun’s grip, glares at him. “I don’t mind,” Minseok says, suppressing a chuckle. Baekhyun grins. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, albeit fondly.

The two of them sit in the living room after Kyungsoo waves them off to it so he can finish off dinner in peace. Minseok hands him the bag of sweets he’s brought with him for dessert and Kyungsoo accepts it with thanks.

“Your hair’s shorter,” Baekhyun says, reaching out and tousling it from front to back, lingering slightly at the short hairs near his nape before retracting his hand. Minseok frowns at the action, patting his hair down in case it’s been messed up. “I like it,” Baekhyun adds, unfazed. “It brings out the roundness of your cheeks.”

“My cheeks are not round,” Minseok protests. They used to be, but not anymore. He’s long outgrown round. He sucks them in self consciously.

“Why are you taking this negatively? They’re cute. You’re cute.” He extends his hand to Minseok’s cheek, long fingers in a pinching position, but he changes his mind in the last minute and pokes it instead.

“Cute,” he says a third time. A brand of mischief Minseok is slowly getting accustomed to glints in his eyes. Minseok smacks his hand away, pokes him back harder. Always a tiny bit harder.

“You’re so mean to me,” he whines, falling halfway into Minseok’s lap, all puppy eyes and mock despair. His eyelashes are straight and feathery, fanning shadows in the dim yellow light of Kyungsoo’s living room. Minseok resists the urge to poke him again.

“Should I cut my hair?”

His bangs frame the sides of his face, smoothing nonexistent edges. When Minseok pulls at a lock, it reaches the tip of Baekhyun’s nose. He wrinkles it like it tickles.

“I like your hair.”

Minseok curls the strand around his finger before letting it go.

“Wait just a little bit longer.”

Baekhyun’s grin is a thousand watts bright.

“Food’s almost ready,” Kyungsoo announces as he steps out of the kitchen. He looks at them oddly for a second, like he’s walked in on something he hadn’t expected. His gaze flickers to Baekhyun and his straight eyebrows furrow, his thick lips thinning. He’s conveying a message that Minseok is unable to decode. Baekhyun lets out a breath, exasperated and offended, and hoists himself up and slightly away.

When they sit down to eat - an experimental pasta dish, sliced French bread in a basket- the air is less laid back than Minseok had hoped. Baekhyun, to his right, fidgets in his chair like he’s struggling to get comfortable. His mouth or his eyes or both, tight.

“This is very good,” Minseok tells Kyungsoo, who smiles to himself, pleased. Baekhyun sips his water in silence. Sulking or tired or both. Minseok can’t help but think that Baekhyun, when he’s not being teasing and loud, is an inscrutable thing.

“Eat,” Kyungsoo orders him, commanding and soft in a way only he can be. “You’re getting too thin. You look even more ridiculous in your oversized clothes than usual.”

“It’s a fashion choice,” Baekhyun retorts. “You know, like you deciding to only wear one color.”

Minseok chuckles. The mood lifts. They eat.

They talk briefly about their respective jobs, too dull of a topic for them to delve into. Kyungsoo tells them his girlfriend Seungwan has recently adopted a dog - a white Maltese- and that it stares at him every time he visits, standing still and alert as if on guard. Baekhyun complains about the general disarray of his and Chanyeol’s shared apartment. “You’d have an aneurism if you saw it,” he says, and while that could apply to either of them, he gives Minseok a pointed look so Minseok know he mostly means him.

He brings up Chanyeol’s constant studying, how he likes to recite the facts out loud and blast music from the speakers in his room as he does, how his textbooks are as thick as bricks. “They’re so heavy!” Baekhyun exclaims. “One fell on my foot once and almost broke it. I can’t believe he actually carries them around with him everywhere.” He’s resting one of his elbows in the space between his and Minseok’s plates. Minseok likes the way his voice rises and falls when he talks, theatrical. His stories always engrossing regardless of how interesting they are.

When Baekhyun excuses himself to the restroom, Kyungsoo blinks owlishly at Minseok. It’s unnerving. “When did you two get so close?”

Minseok centers his plate on the placemat. “We’ve been..” He wipes invisible sauce from his fingers. “Talking, lately. Hanging out occasionally. I wouldn’t say we were close. We’re both just—” He considers saying that it’s because they’re both down a best friend that they’ve sought solace in each other, but he know that’s only partially the truth. So he keeps that thought to himself. “Bored,” he says finally.

Another blink. Kyungsoo’s eyes are so dark, and in this light they are all knowing. Minseok blinks back.

“Aimless,” Minseok amends. “It’s nice, spending time with him. Fun. Distracting.”

“What do you need to be distracted from?”

The quietness, how much things have changed, how little he’s changed, how his friends are leading full lives that barely intersect with his anymore, how none of these things bother him as much as they should.

“A lot of things,” he says finally.

“What did I miss?” Baekhyun asks when he comes back, his hands dripping water.

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo says, standing up and piling the plates so he can carry them to the sink. Minseok follows him with the glasses.

“I don’t believe you. Were you talking about me?” asks Baekhyun, shuffling behind them with the remaining dishes.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocking as that may seem,” Kyungsoo deadpans. The dishes barely make a sound when he places them in the sink.

“You’re both so cruel to me,” Baekhyun whines. “I’m feeling very attacked today.”

“Well, that’s what you get when you don’t announce your visits beforehand. You’re always on your phone. It takes no effort for you to text or call or something.” He says it with a glower, but Minseok can tell that this is a repeated conversation and there is no actual heat behind his words.

Baekhyun nudges Kyungsoo’s shoulder with his own, angles his head so he can look at Kyungsoo’s face.

“How lonely would you be if I didn’t check in on you from time to time? You’d miss me so much and we both know you’d be too proud to beg for my company.”

Kyungsoo turns the tap on to soak the sink’s contents, his back to them. “Maybe Minseok hyung should get his share of your charity visits. I’m sure he’d enjoy them more than I do.”

¤ ¤ ¤

Minseok’s first relationship -not counting the one he had with Park Boyoung -full cheeked and bright eyed, who followed him around all through kindergarten, announcing to the other kids that when they were going to get married when they were older- was with Bae Joohyun. She was a year younger than him, and Minseok remembers the buzz that surrounded her the first few months of his second year of high school.

She was so pretty, objectively the prettiest girl Minseok -who’d only caught glimpses of her in crowded hallways- had ever seen, and everyone noticed. Did you see her? All the boys would whisper in awe. A goddess is among us. But along with the reverence Minseok also heard She’s so full of herself. She doesn’t even try to be friendly, probably doesn’t think we’re worth her time.

“Do you think she’s pretty? Cause I don’t really see what the fuss is all about.” Sunhwa had asked Hanbyul who sat to the right of him, her tone sharp and accusing. And Minseok thought it would be too blatant of a lie for anyone to answer no to that question.

Bae Joohyun, timid and overwhelmed with all the attention, would spend her lunches in a secluded area in the back of the school grounds reading romance novels until the bell rang. That was where Minseok had first met her, a twisted ankle keeping him away from the soccer field where he usually played with his friends. It was such a long way. Minseok still doesn’t remember why he’d limped all the way there.

“My sister really likes that book,” he said to her. And though she’d been startled, looking down at the cover of her book like she’d forgotten what the title was. “It’s a good book. This is my second time reading it.” She measured her words, shaping the letters with careful precision, stuttering slightly. It was endearing.

He had her tell him about it because she looked so small as she sat in a row of chairs meant for six alone.

The next day, he sat at the other end of the row, his English workbook opened to a page about past perfect tense, a mechanical pencil hooked on the spine of it. She had a different book in her hands and she had almost looked hopeful when she caught him noticing it.

Days of similar conversations passed, but Minseok didn’t mind hearing about books he was never going to read because Joohyun’s dialect surfaced when she was excited. She tended to steer off topic and Minseok learned a lot about her. Like how she enjoys cooking seaweed soup even when it’s no one’s birthday, how she has a younger sister of her own.

Some days they would just sit in silence and do their homework or revise for upcoming tests. Her notebooks were all different shades of purple, her notes all in mind maps and tables. Minseok’s ankle healed, but he still kept her company.

The distant shouts and laughter, the warm hue of the spring sun, the spring breeze in Joohyun’s long hair and the snacks they shared between them. It had all felt dreamlike, a small part of the world that was just for them.

When she confessed to him, just as they were about to turn the corner on their way back to their classes, he was only a little bit surprised.

Dating Bae Joohyun wasn’t all that different from being her sitting companion. They went to cheesy romance movies and fast food restaurants, sharing large orders of fries. One difference was her hand in his, was her head on his shoulder, was their arms locked. He kissed her for the first time after their third date. The journey from where Minseok was standing at her bent knees to where she was looking up at him on the swing had felt impossibly long.

When she ended things, four months later, she said “It’s like you don’t like me. Not enough.”

Looking back, at twenty eight, Minseok still isn’t quite sure what he had done wrong.

¤ ¤ ¤

The air rushing through Minseok’s lungs is crisp and refreshing. It will get a lot warmer in a few hours, too warm for jogging, at least for him. But right now, the wind is cool enough to keep his clothes from sticking to him, to keep his body from overheating from the exertion. He’s going at a slower pace than usual, looking back every so often to make sure he hasn’t gone too far.

“I think I’m dying!” comes a wail from behind him, and when Minseok turns he finds Baekhyun crouching, palms pressed flat on his knees. His hair is pulled away from his face in a ponytail in the center of his head. Minseok had provided the hair tie, knowing Baekhyun would need it. “As expected from our Minseok hyung,” Baekhyun had said as Minseok looped it a few times until it was secure enough that he had to tug his fingers out. “Always prepared~” His apple hair made him look almost ridiculously cute, and Minseok had been tempted to pinch his cheeks and coo the same way Baekhyun always did to him.

“You have no stamina,” Minseok says with a frown. “You’re wheezing and we’ve barely been at this fifteen minutes. Do you smoke or something?”

“No,” Baekhyun chokes out. “I’m just out of practice.” His ponytail flops when he crouches farther. Minseok approaches him and pulls at it lightly. “Want a break?”

“Yes please,” Baekhyun breathes with relief.

The grin that breaks out on Minseok’s face is one he hasn’t worn in a long time. Mischievous. “Too bad.” He twirls around and jogs away, laughing at Baekhyun’s cry of protest. Minseok had dragged him to an early morning run by the river after noticing that Baekhyun got winded from climbing two flights of stairs. “Consider this an intervention,” he’d said to him.

They take a break after a while. Baekhyun seemed like he was about to pass out, his face red and his breathing ragged. “I can’t believe I let you coerce me into doing this with you,” he whimpers. “My muscles are going to ache for days.” He presses his forehead against the back of the bench they’re sitting on, his fist against his chest, willing his heart to a steadier beat. His eyes are clenched shut. “That’s if I survive this. My lungs are on fire. I think they’re ruined forever.”

“You’re talking just fine, so I think you’re okay,” Minseok says dryly, but he rubs Baekhyun’s back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. He hands him a water bottle and Baekhyun drinks out of it with so much fervor, a good portion of the water dribbles down his chin, leaving wet splotches on his pale grey t-shirt. Minseok tsks at him, wiping the wetness off Baekhyun’s chin with his thumb. “Such a child,” he says.

Baekhyun looks at him from under his lashes, his mouth pulling into a line Minseok has witnessed before but has yet to understand. His eyes reflect the morning light and Minseok’s face and something else entirely. Minseok’s stomach clenches and he pulls his thumb away.

They sit with their backs straight, observing the people that pass them. There’s sweat trickling down Minseok’s back, plastering his hair to his temples, but it’s drying. Baekhyun’s breathing is even again.

“Are you—” Minseok scratches the back of his neck. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asks because he doesn’t know for sure. The clouds in the sky are sparse.

Baekhyun doesn’t answer right away. One of the clouds looks like a dolphin mid-dive.

“Why? Are you interested in me?” His tone isn’t as teasing as his smile. His eyes are barely teasing at all.

I don’t know, Minseok thinks. He wonders if Jongdae told him anything, but he shakes that thought away. What does Jongdae have to tell?

He kicks the side of Baekhyun’s shoe without looking at him. “I’m just asking.”

“If you say so,” Baekhyun singsongs. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

Minseok figured. It would have been brought up if he was. Probably.

“Are you?” asks Baekhyun, pressing the water bottle -a third of it left- against his neck even though it’s tepid. Minseok pulls a few tissues from his pocket and wipes his neck and forehead.

“No.”

Baekhyun stretches his legs in front of him. His sneaker were once white but are now filthy. Minseok scrunches his nose at the sight of them.

“When was your last relationship?” asks Baekhyun.

A women speed walks past them, her dog on a leash and keeping pace with her.

“It ended a year ago.”

More than a year really, but Minseok had long decided not to count.

“Why?” asks Baekhyun, turning to look at him.

Minseok ignores the question.

“What about you?”

Baekhyun’s gaze returns to the gravel path.

“February.”

Baekhyun snappy and withdrawn, the hunch in his shoulders, Jongdae’s concern. February.

“Oh,” Minseok says finally.

“Aren’t you going to ask why it ended?”

“I’m not nosy like you.”

“Too bad. It’s juicy stuff.”

Minseok belatedly remembers to offer him some tissues. Baekhyun accepts them, peering at Minseok curiously from the corner of his eyes. It’s an invitation, maybe. Minseok isn’t good at asking, even when a question occupies his throat, or sits heavy on his tongue.

Baekhyun sighs, deflates.

“Are you still sad about it?” asks Minseok.

“A little. Are you?”

“Sometimes. A long time has passed, but..” Minseok isn’t really a touchy person, but it’s been so long since somebody held him.

“It’s not like I was surprised that it ended. It’s always the same. It’s fun until it’s serious and then they leave. No one wants serious, apparently. At least not with me.” Tight, pursed mouth. “You’d think I’d have grown thicker skin by now. I should stop getting attached.” For a moment his expression is open and vulnerable.

Are you interested in me.. Who jokes about things like that?

“You wear you heart on your sleeve. I like that about you.”

“Do I?” Baekhyun asks. “Do you?”

“Yeah.”

Baekhyun swings his legs the way a child does when his feet don’t reach the ground.

“It’s weird,” he mumbles.

“What is?”

“Having your attention. I’m still not used to it. It always felt like I was kind of invisible to you.”

“That’s not true.” Minseok frowns.

“You don’t notice people unless they actively work for your attention. I was always so curious about you, but you never seemed like you’d answer any of my questions. I mean, Jongdae and I shared so much, almost everything, but we never shared you. It was like you and I had joint custody of him, dividing his time between us.”

“I noticed you. You’re so loud, it’s hard not to.” Baekhyun only ever looked at him when he thought Minseok wasn’t paying attention. That made Minseok do the same, sneaking glances like they weren’t allowed. He never knew what to say to him, because Baekhyun seemed like he was waiting to hear something in particular. Minseok could never figure out what that was. “I didn’t think you enjoyed my company.” That’s only partially true. Mostly, Minseok didn’t consider it much of an option, the three of them together.

“I did. I do now, too.”

Minseok smiles and the stretch of his lips feels more awkward than anything. “Me too,” he says.

Another pause, another searching look.

“I’m.. I like men.” Baekhyun says it with a painted on breeziness. He’s wringing his fingers.

“Oh.” Minseok swallows. His mouth feels dry. He should have brought more water. “Okay.”

“I didn’t know if you knew,” Baekhyun says.

“I didn’t know,” says Minseok gently. What does Minseok know about Baekhyun, really?

An old man trudges by in a green training suit. Baekhyun follows him with his eyes.

“Well now you do,” he says. There’s something fragile in his voice, barely noticeable, a piece of his heart bared. This moment is important, Minseok realizes. What he says next is important.

“Do you want to keep going or have you had enough?”

Baekhyun’s gaze is soft, his mouth in that ineligible line.

“I’ll keep going.”

¤ ¤ ¤

Ian was Jinki’s friend first. They knew each other from a shared class or club or acquaintance. Minseok doesn’t really remember how. When Jinki had introduced them, all Minseok could focus on was the warmth in Ian’s smile and the gleam of interest in his eyes.

“Let’s be friends,” Ian had offered, genuine in his request. “I want to be friends with you.”

Minseok had no reason to refuse.

Ian was both the easiest and hardest friendship Minseok had ever made. Easy because Ian was so accommodating, remembered every minute detail Minseok shared about himself, spoke in simple terms with only the barest hint of an American accent. It was cute, endearing. That was one of the reasons it was hard. When Ian looked at Minseok like there was nothing else worth seeing, listened to him like there wasn’t anything else worth hearing, a small but resolute flame ignited in Minseok’s chest.

Walking with their arms brushing, quiet evenings spent in Ian’s apartment eating Minseok’s favorite foods, Ian calling him “Minsook-ah,” affectionate and teasing. It was all so purposeful. Minseok had to be a fool not to understand.

“You stole him from me,” Jinki said much later, jutting his lower lip in a pout. He’d looked at both of them then, not specifying which one of them he meant. Ian laughed, his left hand rubbing circles between Minseok’s shoulder blades. Jinki made a show of not noticing.

Ian kept him company when he was studying, drove him around in his car when Minseok felt suffocated, walked him to his doorstep. It was a gradual progression. Holding his hand, resting his head on his shoulder, on his lap. When Ian leaned closer, it felt only natural for Minseok to do the same.

They didn’t put a name to it, this thing they built together. Ian didn’t bring it up, and Minseok would never ever ask. “You like him so much,” Dongwoo had commented, an unspoken question in the lilt of his voice. “I do,” was Minseok’s honest reply. Jongdae talked around it, but Minseok knew what he suspected.

Months later, with a boy between his legs with a hot breath and dark, dark eyes, Minseok didn’t question how that came to be.

Ian was at his graduation, waited for him outside the building of his first job interview, was his ride to the second. He stayed over that first night in Minseok’s new apartment, when it was bare and drafty and Minseok wasn’t yet used to being so completely and utterly alone.

When Ian finished his MBA, he was expected to return to America. “I think we should end things cleanly,” he said to Minseok two weeks before his flight home. “Long distance never works.”

It felt wrong. How could Ian, who was nothing short of adoring, who once -in a hushed, vulnerable voice- told him he was afraid that he loved Minseok more, end things without a fight?

At the lump in Minseok’s throat and the tension in Minseok’s jaw, Ian added, “Minsookie, this couldn’t go on forever.”

Minseok felt so, so stupid for ever believing that it could.

¤ ¤ ¤

hyung would you rather be killed by a human or a wild animal?

how am i killed?

violently

how do you even come up with these questions?

¤ ¤ ¤

Minseok watches Joonmyun as he types out a document. He’s slow but steady, doesn’t use the backspace even once. When he stops, Minseok makes his way to him. Baekhyun had said that he only bestows his attention to those who work for it. Minseok doesn’t want that to be true about him.

“Hey, Joonmyun. Working hard, I see,” he says, resting his weight slightly on one of the walls of Joonmyun’s cubicle.

Joonmyun turns to him, his eyes crinkling in a smile. Minseok smiles back.

“Would you like to get lunch with me?” he asks.

Joonmyun raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Sure. That would be nice.”

“There’s a great buldak place just around the corner from here. Can you handle spicy food?”

Joonmyun laughs. “In moderation.”

“It’s not that bad. I’m sure it won’t be too great a challenge for you. I’m pretty moderate myself.”

He took Baekhyun to it a couple of weeks ago. Minseok had to wipe the dampness off his brow and his chapped lips had stung a little, but it was delicious. Baekhyun who could barely tolerate the heat had gone red in the face. His mouth was red too, the sauce congealing at its corners.

Joonmyun says, “I’ll take your word for it, then.”

After they get to the restaurant, order, and have their food placed in front of them, mindless small talk filling in the awkward silences. Joonmyun, who has been eying Minseok with something akin to suspicion finally says, “You know, I thought,” he furrows his eyebrows, then smiles. “I was afraid you didn’t like me very much.”

“What gave you that idea?” Minseok asks. He folds his napkin into a tiny triangle with both his hands.

The restaurant is pretty crowded, most of its patrons office workers in suits like them. Minseok has to angle forward to hear Joonmyun properly.

“Whenever I talked to you, it felt like I was interrupting you from something important.”

Guilt spreads thick and potent on the underside of Minseok’s ribcage. He used to be a lot better at this, at making friends. It’s a skill he’d mastered in elementary school and slowly lost with time. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

Joonmyun waves him off, like the apology is unnecessary.

Joonmyun with his gentle face, with his warm voice, doing everything that’s asked of him with a smile. Joonmyun with his perfected surface, with his organized desk and cluttered drawers. Minseok can’t imagine being friends with him, couldn’t think of a single thing they’d have to share.

He has the presence of a teacher, warm and encouraging. He always has a cup of poorly made but well intentioned coffee ready when Minseok most needs it. Minseok realizes, abruptly, that they’re somehow already friends.

“I like you,” he tells him, meaning it.

Joonmyun’s smile is big enough to stretch his face almost unattractively. “I like you too.”

¤ ¤ ¤

They watch the last episode of their drama together. Baekhyun occupying the floor by Minseok’s feet, his legs stretched out in front of him. The heroine gains the recognition she so coveted, her shoe designs winning an international award. The lead male stands by her side with pride, his mother -snobby and classist- relents, sudden character development prompting her to want nothing more than for her son to be happy.

Baekhyun points out all the loose ends, all the inconsistencies, and Minseok nods along. They both feel bad for the second lead, who was kinder and more supportive, but who wasn’t chosen in the end. He moves to America to start afresh. The heroine offers him nothing more than an apologetic smile.

When the final shot freezes and the ending soundtrack begins to play, Baekhyun mutes the television and turns to Minseok with a grin. “Let’s order chicken,” he says. Minseok likes how his canines are a bit longer than the rest of his teeth. He likes a lot of things about Baekhyun’s smile, really. The impishness of it, the shape of his mouth.

Minseok doesn’t blink at the warmth that spreads through his chest. It’s familiar enough. He knows what it means.

The thing is, Minseok knows that he can get used to anything. The weight of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the way his contacts make his eyes itchy and dry. Going out every night of the week, having his life narrowed down to the stretch of road between his apartment and work. Friends, to strangers. Strangers to friends. When he first realized he wanted nothing more than to kiss a boy he thought, okay. And as he looks at Baekhyun, who he’s known for almost half his life but really only recently, he thinks I’ve gotten used to you.

“What’s wrong, hyung?” asks Baekhyun, twisting to press his cheek on the leather just to the left of Minseok’s knee, looking up at him.

Minseok takes a moment to consider his answer. Baekhyun has been nothing but honest, or at least a lot more honest than Minseok has been.

Minseok decides that he can be straightforward too.

He gently pushes the strands of hair away from Baekhyun’s face with his index finger, then pulls them away. He inhales deeply through his nose, holds the breath in his lungs for a moment, then lets it out. “I like men too. Sometimes.” He’s never said it before, not to anyone. It wasn’t shame that stopped him, it was a different, more complicated thing.

Minseok can see Baekhyun’s whole body going rigid. “Sometimes?” he asks.

Minseok looks down at his own hands, but when he sees how badly they’re shaking he looks away. The tv is showing a commercial for air conditioning now. “Sometimes,” Minseok repeats. “Not exclusively, and not—” Minseok has already run out of negatives.

“Have you ever been with a man, hyung?” Baekhyun asks.

“Yes,” Minseok licks his lips, a nervous tick. “One man, but for a.. while.”

“Do you have really high standards or something?” Minseok can’t read the expression on Baekhyun’s face, but he knows what this is all leading up to.

“Maybe I do.” Stop licking your lips.

Baekhyun slowly pulls himself up and off the floor, and onto the sofa. Minseok’s heart is hammering so hard against the inside of his chest. “What about me?” Baekhyun asks, voice too shaky to be teasing. “Do I fit your high standards?”

His hand in his mother’s, his sister’s in his, his fingers clutching the straps of his backpack as he walks to school alone, the long subway journey to his university on the other side of the city, at first alert so he doesn’t miss his stop, then dozing off, waking up a reflex. Transitioning, growing up, moving forward, the unfamiliar becoming routine. Minseok goes to work in a car he owns, listening to the radio.

Baekhyun is waiting for the words Minseok has lined up to say.

Minseok is afraid of very few things, cats with outstretched claws, losing his sister in a crowd and never finding her again, birds that fly too close to his head, but he’s not afraid of change.

“Maybe you do.”

Baekhyun’s breath catches, and his eyes are searching, but he still grins like he’s about to crack a joke, albeit wobbly. “Are you finally admitting that you’ve fallen in love with me?”

Minseok steels himself and looks Baekhyun in the eye. “I guess I am.”

Another sharp intake of breath. Another grin, less wobbly, more wobbly. Minseok can’t tell. “Took you long enough,” Baekhyun breathes before leaning forward with purpose. Minseok meets him halfway, their lips fitting together. Minseok pushes Baekhyun back until his back hits the sofa cushion, one hand curled over Baekhyun’s thigh, the other curled over the top of the cushion by his head.

It’s open-mouthed and sloppy. Baekhyun makes tiny mewling noises, grips Minseok’s shirt like an anchor. Minseok’s hand slowly moves from the cushion to gripping Baekhyun’s shoulder to rubbing circles in the back of his neck, rubbing circles in his thigh with the other.

For a moment, Minseok is struck with disbelief. He’s kissing Byun Baekhyun, a boy he remembers towering over, the boy who once dyed his hair bright purple, the catalyst behind all of Jongdae’s worst ideas.

He can’t believe it, and yet here he is.








bonus:

Jongdae visits in late September. For Chuseok and for his birthday, he says.

They go out to dinner, the three of them. Samgyeopsal and soju to satisfy Jongae’s craving. The meal is extra loud, Baekhyun and Jongdae bickering and shrieking and laughing through it. “I miss being able to mute you,” Jongdae says to Baekhyun, and Minseok has to stuff a wrap in Baekhyun’s mouth to keep him quiet.

It’s strange, being included in things he used to be excluded from. Things have changed so quickly, though over the span of a little over half a year. It feels like someone has flipped a coin in Minseok’s hand. Where there was heads, he now stares down at tails.

After things settle down a bit, Jongdae gives them a thoughtful look, his chin propped on his palm. Minseok doubts he can see their fingers interlocked under the table, but it’s probably not hard to imagine where their hands have gone. He knows after all, what they’ve come to be to each other. They told him.

“Is it weird that I kind of feel left out?” Jongdae asks them, tapping at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” Baekhyun says. “There’s only room for two in this relationship, so don’t get your hopes up. It’s not our fault you still haven’t gone anywhere with your soulmate neighbour.”

Jongdae scowls, then his expression turns devious. “Minseok hyung, did Baekhyun ever tell you how he had the biggest crush on you back in middle school?”

Minseok grins, leaning forward in interest. “No, he didn’t. Is that why he was so quiet around me?”

“Why else? He’d get tongue-tied. Isn’t that the cutest?”

“Hey! Stop talking about me like I’m not right here.” Baekhyun whines. Minseok turns to him, sighing wistfully. “You know, I kind of miss quiet you.”

“No you don’t,” says Baekhyun, resting his head on Minseok’s shoulder. His hair tickles Minseok’s chin. And Minseok, whose life has become so full of Baekhyun’s noise and Baekhyun’s presence and the mischief that still fits him so snuggly at twenty six, couldn’t agree more.