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1.
Yonghee has been staring at the yellow peeling glow-in-dark star stickers on the ceiling for half an hour now.
It’s the most low-energy form of self-loathing he can carry out at 9 in the morning without making a ruckus. It benefits no one, but it lets Yonghee stew in ugly feelings of pity and incredulity without drawing any attention to himself.
The emotions are rightfully felt—Yonghee woke up to an empty bed after sleeping with someone he should never have slept with. He didn’t regret it, but Jinyoung might’ve, with the way he’s abandoned Yonghee already despite one: the room being his, and two: Jinyoung being a heavy sleeper.
Usually Jinyoung wouldn't even stir if a war broke out in the same room he's sleeping in. But lo and behold, after having sex with Yonghee one time, he can't seem to wait to get out and do the dreaded walk of shame.
He’s also staring at the ceiling because whenever he shuts his eyes for longer than three seconds, vivid flashbacks of Jinyoung’s face play under his eyelids, and Yonghee cannot afford that right now.
Yonghee’s already done the whole turning over in his bed, kicking the blanket and screaming into his pillow shtick. He started staring at the ceiling in an attempt to dissipate the feeling of oh god did that really happen last night? quicker, but half an hour later and it refused to budge.
So did he.
There’s also the problem of Yonghee not knowing how to face Jinyoung. He and Jinyoung were already on rocky, kind-of-friends terms, but only God knew in which direction this development would push. Yonghee was not about to open his third year of University with his crush of a year-and-a-half hating him. But Jinyoung was as unpredictable as he was truly unreadable – no one really knew how his brain worked, and every time you talked to him, you discovered another layer.
Like a goddamn onion.
Ah, it’s that fucking onion’s fault, Yonghee recalls.
It’s not totally Yonghee’s fault he got drunk last night. It was to be expected that he would get drunk on a team field trip— but not that drunk.
Drunk-table tennis was more horrible than usual, and Yonghee and Jinyoung were on the same team. Yonghee’s no good at sports, so it was hopeless on his end.
Jinyoung is usually good at sports and better at winning, but he was already two bottles in — Yonghee’s entire tolerance — and with Yonghee’s lack of instinctive coordination and Jinyoung’s half-shut down brain, their team lost with no competition. It didn’t help that on the opposite end of the table were Daehwi and Somi. Yonghee's convinced the only reason God put them in different majors was to prevent them from overthrowing him — that was how overpowering their combination was.
Daehwi had held up an onion – the only thing he brought to the trip aside from his devious ways – and asked Yonghee and Jinyoung each to take a bite. Beside him, Somi presented a horrible alternative of four consecutive pure tequila shots.
He didn’t know about Daehwi, but Yonghee did not want to eat an onion in front of the most handsome member of his editorial team. At that point, he was still praying for the possibility of a game of seven minutes in Heaven with Jinyoung — even if the chance of him having to spend it with Byounggon was very daunting.
That doesn't come true, but the core of his wish comes to pass in a different form.
Four shots, three dubstep songs and a quiet room later, he was half on Jinyoung’s lap, kissing said most handsome member. And a broken table, three occupied bedrooms and a bathroom later, they were in Jinyoung’s room.
Once again: Yonghee blames the onion.
If it were any less repulsive or pungent vegetable, like a tomato, maybe he wouldn’t be in this predicament.
Not that Yonghee regrets last night. Even in his haze he can remember the enthusiastic consent on both his and Jinyoung’s parts, and the feeling of Jinyoung’s lips on his.
He’s not worried about that—but how could he ever erase the feeling of Jinyoung’s hand on him, murmuring praises while making all his dreams come true?
A crash and a muffled argument over the karaoke machine can be heard from the lower level of the guesthouse, startling Yonghee out from his self-abhorrent reminiscing. He remembers that there were four other people on their team field trip who were half-gone, but one who was distinctly sober.
It dawns on Yonghee that he just might have to bribe Lai Kuanlin into silence. That’s enough fear that jolts down his body, immediately making him get up and run into the adjacent bathroom. If no one — other than Jinyoung and maybe Kuanlin — saw him enter or leave Jinyoung’s room, he could pretend it never happened.
A too-long shower later, Yonghee pads down the stairs, covering his ears to protect them against Byunggon’s horrible screeching into the karaoke microphone like it wasn’t 10 in the morning.
He makes a beeline for the kitchen, spotting Kuanlin arguing with Daehwi over who should do the dishes from yesterday. Yonghee looks down at his still-pruney fingers from his shower, but marches up to Daehwi to steal the gloves from him.
“I’ll do it for Kuanlin,” he says, and from the corner of his eye, spots a beanie head watching.
He turns instinctively but isn’t prepared for the way Jinyoung is looking at him, half-curious and half-amused. Jinyoung gives him a nod in greeting, and Yonghee nods back. He shakes off Jinyoung’s gaze, and comes face-to-face with a smug Kuanlin.
Daehwi’s already left, uninterested after not being able to terrorize Kuanlin further. Yonghee hears Woojin yell into the karaoke microphone, its echo loud and clear, and realizes Daehwi must've moved on to a different target.
He gulps, avoiding Kuanlin’s gaze and instead pulling the gloves over his fingers. The insides are wet, and he hates it, but doesn’t say a word.
Picking up a dirty bowl that Yonghee remembers Byunggon licking the side of — one of many health code violations that look place last night — Yonghee gets to scrubbing hard with a limp sponge. It doesn’t puff up but soaps well, and Yonghee just wants to focus on getting it clean, avoiding Kuanlin’s eyes.
He expects Kuanlin to tease or at least make a noise of ooh Jinyoung and Yonghee sitting on a tree~ but Kuanlin just smiles at him, then points to Jinyoung, who’s cramming a small carton into his jacket pocket and leaving out the back door without so much as a look back.
Kuanlin makes a small heart shape, and mimes a zipping motion over his mouth. His smile just gets bigger at Yonghee’s panic at the heart shape he made, and shrugs before patting his shoulder and walking off. He even whistles a tune, jingling his keys as he yells at Woojin to give the karaoke machine a rest.
If he’s being honest, Yonghee doesn’t trust Kuanlin’s sly smile, but he’s all he’s got.
He keeps scrubbing.
0.
The publication was supposed to be an easy, low-commitment, and most importantly, individual-based club.
Yonghee is far from being introverted — he was fully determined to focus on academia and puffing up his resume, uninterested in pursuing romantic relationships. He was unprepared for the extremely social aspect of university life that involved facing a crush he had thought would just be eye-candy every damn week.
Jinyoung first appeared in Yonghee’s life in the beginning of freshman year, like a good omen that things were going to be good for Yonghee in tertiary education.
Yonghee had opened a refrigerator door in the cafeteria while grabbing a drink but didn’t prop it open, content to let it fall on his hip to keep it open.
Funnily enough it didn’t hit him like he had expected, and when he stood up straight after getting his bottom-shelf Milkis, he found a handsome man holding it open nonchalantly while scanning for what he wanted to drink.
Jinyoung was holding the door open for Yonghee to preventing it from hitting him. It was a small but sweet gesture, and Yonghee shyly bowed and Jinyoung tilted his head back, not even cracking a smile.
So began Yonghee’s crush saga of stealing glances, eyes lingering every time he passed Jinyoung in the art building. Jinyoung was always there whenever Yonghee came for classes even though he didn’t belong to the faculty. At that point, Yonghee didn’t know his name and had no intentions to get to know him, content to watch from afar.
But Life™, being a son of a bitch as usual, came to Yonghee in the form of an unassuming club poster printed with the words every university student loves to hear: No Experience Needed.
It’s a given that Yonghee signed up, skipping the actually-mandatory orientation session and going straight into the first group meeting, sitting next to some blonde dude who kept putting curled fingers to his cheeks, trying to create some form of a new aegyo set.
"Gonppang," he mumbled. Said blonde dude turned out to be club president Lee Byunggon. Total nerd, but he’s not important yet.
And since a son of a bitch like Life™ must of course have a mother, Comedy® just so happens to be Life™’s.
So was Yonghee’s Life™ — a Comedy®, when the refrigerator-door-holder that he was so content to stay away from walked through the club room doors and introduced himself as Bae Jinyoung.
Damn. Now he had a name. Goodbye, short-lived blissful anonymity of watching from afar. Hello, the daunting realization of being perceived.
Yonghee learnt three additional facts about Jinyoung that afternoon: he was a writer, in the second semester of his first year like Yonghee, and a key member of the Seven Team Editorial Club.
Maybe Yonghee should have left then, disappeared and changed his email address— since that was the only form of contact the club had on him.
But he’s not cowardly. Or maybe, as Hyunsuk would argue, too cowardly to quit.
He stays anyway, and two 15-gigabyte SD cards filled to the brim, thirty polaroid sets, and a year and then some time later, he’s still there.
It didn’t help that other than Jinyoung being cute and Byunggon being petty and at times, insane, they had overlapping friend circles. Jinyoung’s friends were Yonghee’s, too. At some point, whenever Yonghee met a new person, he would ask whether they knew Bae Jinyoung.
It was only at the end of the previous semester — the end of Year 2 — that Jinyoung and Yonghee hung out together proper, though, and Yonghee’s crush on Jinyoung’s face pushed past that to full on daydreaming about dating Jinyoung.
The end of the semester meant exam hell, and Yonghee was a prisoner of said hell for longer than the rest of his friends. Seunghoon and Byunggon, being part of the College of Music, always finished earlier than everyone else, having finished their practical exams weeks prior to their scarcer theory.
But even Jihoon, who was usually on Yonghee’s side, finished a day early. Being part of the Fine Arts faculty meant he usually only suffered as much as Yonghee, who was part of the Broadcast school.
Even Woojin, who was in the same damned major as him, finished a day earlier.
On the morning of his last paper, Yonghee spends the fifteen minutes of free time he had before entering the exam hall browsing Instagram. His feed, usually filled with back-to-back dog photos from the god-sent hashtag #dogsofinstagram, was instead littered with photos of hangouts from the past few days.
Yonghee wishes that he had been uneasy about the exam, spending the fifteen minutes he had from coming early on something productive, like revising. Woe was he, for actually studying amply before coming to the venue.
He reluctantly double-taps Hyunsuk and Byunggon's posts of themselves together, before scrolling and hitting Seunghoon’s post of himself, taken by someone else. There’s no caption indicating who he was with.
He comments: Who’d you go with? before liking the photo then pushing his thumb against the screen again.
It’s Jinyoung this time, who posts in the same location outside of Seoul as Seunghoon.
The comment Yonghee leaves reflects his heart perfectly well: Ah. He went with you.
Yonghee’s not bitter. He’s just a little disappointed that everyone, including Jinyoung, had plans for the afternoon he finally was released from the shackles of exam hell. Even Seunghoon had apologized when informing him that no one was free to hang out with him once he got out, all of his friends occupied with legitimate appointments.
He was fully resigned to spending his first afternoon off in forever alone in a park outside campus to take some nature photographs, then probably do a little bit of shopping in some alleyway-type stores.
His phone vibrates after he comments on Jinyoung’s post, and Yonghee is equally surprised to see Jinyoung’s name pop up as the caller.
“What time will you finish your exam?” Jinyoung asks in lieu of a greeting.
“Noon,” Yonghee replies. “And hi to you too, Jinyoung.”
“Okay, Broadcast Building A, right?” Jinyoung doesn’t wait for an answer, and Yonghee is too stunned to ask why Jinyoung was asking. “Okay. See you.”
“See you,” Yonghee answers, but he’s dumbly sitting, not quite allowing his head to connect the dots.
Jinyoung was scheduled to have a jamming session with a friend from the Music department — Jihoon, but not his Jihoon, Yonghee recalls, who always seemed frustrated at something — so Yonghee tries to push away the hope that blossoms easily in his chest.
He convinces himself it's nothing, steeling himself as he enters the exam hall.
Once he gets out of the exam hall, squeezing past his coursemates still chattering away loudly into the elevator and down to the lobby, Yonghee finally can breathe easy.
Then the elevator doors open, and like a dream, Jinyoung is standing there, a hand adjusting the black beanie on his head. Blue and purple plaid tee over a black shirt, a sling bag and the same beanie — the same outfit Jinyoung was wearing in his morning Instagram post.
The journey to Jinyoung — the breadth from the elevator to the building's entrance — is barely ten seconds, but it feels instant. Jinyoung is in front of him in the blink of an eye, like a figment of a dream too good to be real, so much so that Yonghee stops breathing and has to take a moment.
“Did you come here from Mapo?” Yonghee asks, the question slipping out before his brain properly registers that it really was Jinyoung standing in front of him.
“Hi to you too, Yonghee,” Jinyoung says instead, laughing. “Yeah. Heard you might be lonely, so I’m here to keep you company.”
Yonghee decides against thanking Jinyoung, or even asking what happened to his other appointments. The important thing was that Jinyoung was here — and he was here for Yonghee.
“Are you sure you can keep up with me?” Yonghee asks teasingly.
“Try me,” Jinyoung says dryly, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Instead of Jinyoung keeping up, the afternoon becomes Yonghee getting dragged around. They spend an afternoon with the ducks, and Yonghee ends up snapping more photos of Jinyoung than of any scenery. His favourite shot is of Jinyoung trying to discreetly dissuade a bunch of kids who try to give the ducks bread, pointing to a sign disallowing feeding.
That afternoon, Yonghee realizes that Jinyoung is not at all like himself — he never looks Yonghee’s way when he cracks a joke, and is never discouraged when Yonghee doesn’t receive it as well as he’d like.
Yonghee is clumsy, but he finds relief in the way Jinyoung is clumsy too, never really knowing how to carry out simple things despite the sure way he carries himself. Yonghee has to help him cut the donkatsu he orders when Jinyoung almost resolves to holding the whole piece of meat on his fork and just taking a bite.
Jinyoung never wavers, and Yonghee likes looking at him, finding comfort in how resolute he was.
It’s an easy give-and-take between them. Yonghee takes Jinyoung to the park, and Jinyoung chooses their lunch spot and menu, then Yonghee chooses dessert. Yonghee gives Jinyoung the last piece of meat, and Jinyoung offers a bite of his waffle.
Jinyoung walks Yonghee home, and Yonghee feels compelled to thank Jinyoung for the day, but Jinyoung smiles at him and Yonghee forgets all about that, instead soaking in one last moment as he waves at Jinyoung and watches him leave.
A thought crosses Yonghee’s mind — dangerous but as sobering as it was sober — and Yonghee has to stop for a moment while walking into his room. He puts a hand up to his heart and a smile blooms on his face.
I can see my future in Jinyoung, with Jinyoung.
1.5.
When Yonghee returns to the editorial room the day after the retreat, he finds that if something has changed, it’s not between him and Jinyoung, but between everyone else on the team. What he means by that is that the team was even more ruckus-filled than usual.
Byunggon doesn’t even blink an eye when Yonghee slips in late, too busy bickering with Somi over which color scheme to go for their next revamp. Beside them, on the couch, are Woojin and Jinyoung, the latter holding a guitar while Woojin films Daehwi with his camera. They're squished together, unlike the rest of the team scattered around the makeshift studio.
Yonghee's used to this: Somi in charge of the overall creative direction while Daehwi scolded Jinyoung over the narratives they planned for the next print edition. He tries to make himself as small as possible in this type of situation, content to let Byounggon intervene as Woojin and Kuanlin egg the squabbling Daehwi and Jinyoung on.
He slides into the chair beside Kuanlin, as Byunggon ends his argument with Somi. He tunes out the rest of the meeting in favour of passing notes with Kuanlin, who teases him about Jinyoung further.
“And for the Yeongjeong assignment, Jinyoung will write and Yonghee will be in charge of photography,” Byunggon announces, and Yonghee’s head snaps up.
He has a feeling that wasn’t the first time Byunggon had said that, and groans when Daehwi yells at him to pay attention. His heart beats faster, but not it's not from being caught dozing.
“Can I not do the Yeongjeong assignment?” He asks.
“Why? Jinyoung specifically asked for you because he said you wanted to do a feature on Obscure Korea for foreign students,” Byunggon answers, puzzled.
Yonghee blinks, surprised. In his year and then some in the club, Jinyoung usually stuck to his trusted photographers — Woojin, from before they even joined the club, and later, Kuanlin, for some more international coverage.
It's Jinyoung who approaches him, a hesitant smile on his face. Yonghee jumps when Jinyoung taps him on the shoulder, instinctively blurting out: "I didn't say anything?"
"About what?" Jinyoung asks. His eyebrows are furrowed, lower lip jutting out from his frown.
Yonghee had said it on accident, nervous about talking to Jinyoung after sleeping with him. They hadn't talked about what they were supposed to do, so could you blame him for clamming up?
This hurts a little more, though — Jinyoung deciding not to talk about it.
“Where’d you wanna go for the assignment?” Yonghee asks instead, ducking his head and hoping Jinyoung catches the hint and just lets the subject pass.
“Hi to you too, Yonghee.” Jinyoung says petulantly. “And Yeongjeong Island, obviously.”
The place they end up going to is the Humanities library for a quiet place to discuss and research, and a girl stops them at the entrance.
“We’re trying to get more people to come to the library,” the girl says, lifting her pink Instax camera and waving at Yonghee and Jinyoung to press together.
Yonghee makes a peace sign which Jinyoung copies, and a bright light flashes. Jinyoung keeps it until it develops, and they laugh over how pale they both look— trying to do anything but work.
At some point, they get so bored he decides to let Jinyoung choose where he should intern in the next few months.
"You're asking me to decide this thing for you. Even though it's a huge deal." Jinyoung says, raising an eyebrow.
"Who says it's a huge deal?" Yonghee coughs between a closed fist, trying to muster nonchalance. "I mean, what could go wrong, right?"
"Right," Jinyoung drawls, obviously unconvinced. "You're willing to bet it on me?"
"Don't think too much of it," is what comes out of Yonghee's mouth, but what he means to say is I'd bet my life on you.
Dinner, three rounds at the arcade and coffee later, it’s nearing midnight when Yonghee gets home. When he opens his books to digitize his notes because he’s a modern nerd, the polaroid falls out from where it’s pressed in between pages.
Smiling fondly, Yonghee takes a photo of the polaroid and sends it to Jinyoung. Jinyoung sends back a thumbs-up almost instantaneously and bids Yonghee good night.
When Yonghee wakes up the next morning, he sees that Jinyoung has posted it on Instagram.
2.
“It’s Byunggon’s fault for being old,” Yonghee insists to Hyunsuk, who’s watching him stuff bottles of alcohol into his bag.
“You’re saying it’s Byunggon’s fault you’re bringing copious amounts of alcohol to a dinner with the person you slept with the last time you had a team dinner?” Hyunsuk asks. He crosses his arms and stands up, trying to intimidate Yonghee with his height. Too bad it stopped being frightening two days after meeting Hyunsuk. "May I remind you that was only two weeks ago."
“Old habits die hard?” Yonghee answers, giving him a sheepish smile. In one hand, he has Byunggon’s favourite soju brand and flavour, in the other, his phone with a text from Jinyoung about the location of the restaurant.
“Get real— you’re a self-saboteur,” Hyunsuk corrects.
Why does Hyunsuk have to be right?
“You don’t have to be so judgy,” Yonghee says, pouting.
“You're not the one who has to sit through a round of whining when something goes wrong.” Hyunsuk rolls his eyes.
Yonghee balks at that. Just because he bitched to his very willing-to-listen roommate a few times before leaving to hang out with Jinyoung did not mean he was a whiner.
Hyunsuk immediately placates Yonghee when his shoulders slump. “Just… keep the alcohol away from Jinyoung-hyung, okay?”
It’s a relief Yonghee doesn’t lie and say yes, because it’s an impossible task from the get-go.
Byunggon, wanting the solo seat at the head of the table for himself, immediately pushes them together, and traps them between Somi and Daehwi. Yonghee’s getting war flashbacks from the retreat already. This was not a good combination.
Luckily, across him sits a very sober Woojin, who only watches, amused. Yonghee prays Daehwi doesn't give him alcohol, because he was actually enjoying this more reserved look on Woojin, away from the ruckus. Maybe it was because they were in public. Beside Yonghee, Jinyoung peels his mittens off and unwinds his scarf from his neck.
Internally, Yonghee starts counting down the time until Byunggon cries.
The team dinner only existed to celebrate and honour Byunggon’s last year as their president and as a master’s student. The get-together was a team effort — Yonghee included. It was hard to be in the same club as Somi and Daehwi without catching at least a little bit of their enthusiasm.
Finally, Yonghee thinks, Byunggon’s closure after six years of slaving for the club.
He had come a long way from the budding aegyo-set-creating blond man Yonghee first met, now a three-time-aegyo-set-creator who had blue hair. Small steps.
But with this large step, Byunggon could finally let go.
And let go he did, drunk-crying while talking about how much he was going to miss the remaining six undergraduate club members. Yonghee was kind of used to the behaviour after many, many insufferable team dinners.
What he wasn’t used to was seeing Jinyoung let go, too.
Jinyoung, for all the infectious energy in the team — Daehwi’s scheming, Kuanlin’s unhinged chaotic, Woojin’s enabling, Somi's drama-living, and Byunggon’s mood-swinging manic — usually was more laid-back and cool.
But that was currently gone.
He was downing soju and beer shots left and right like there was no tomorrow, and Yonghee was scared to ask why. Despite his fairly strong alcohol tolerance, Jinyoung’s face was slowly getting flushed.
After another round of Byunggon’s mementos to Somi, Jinyoung starts laughing uncontrollably. He doesn’t stop even after the rest of the team’s giggling has subsided.
“He’s crying, your honor,” Yonghee declares, lifting Jinyoung’s head and pushing his fringe from his forehead.
Jinyoung shakes his head, and Yonghee sees real tears in his eyes and suddenly becomes concerned for real. It’s clear from his faltering smile that Jinyoung was on a rollercoaster called intoxication, and while Yonghee has seen Jinyoung drunk enough, this was a different type of being drunk.
“It’s okay, just send him home,” Woojin says, like it was normal. He doesn’t look at the least surprised or distressed.
Kuanlin stands up. “I’ll do it,” he volunteers, hoisting Jinyoung up almost effortlessly.
Internally, Yonghee wonders how much weight-training Kuanlin had done in the past few months, because Yonghee does not remember him being that strong.
“Kuanlin,” Jinyoung mumbles, putting his head against Somi’s shoulder as his legs wobble. “You are the best person I know.”
Yonghee has not done anything in Jinyoung’s life deserving of that title, and he’s aware of the many impressive photojournalistic works Jinyoung and Kuanlin have collaborated on, but his heart sinks a little anyway.
Discreetly, he sips a personal bottle of peach soju, and wonders if it always tasted this bitter.
At the hands of Park Woojin, the resident enabler, one bottle becomes two, then his bottle gets swapped out for a glass of cold beer. Yonghee’s cheek is on the table, staring at Woojin who still looks put-together.
“I would have had a crush on you, I think,” Yonghee says, to Woojin.
Daehwi and Somi are having a break outside, and inside, only Woojin remains. Kuanlin must’ve wandered off somewhere, as he always does.
“As opposed to?” Woojin asks. In a mimicking tone, he continues, “Is there someone else?”
“Jinyoung,” Yonghee replies. Belatedly, a hand comes up to his mouth, realizing he just told someone in the club about his crush.
Woojin only hums, neither uninterested nor curious. Yonghee wants to know how he does it, because he really feels tempted to spill more.
“I just see my future in Jinyoung. I don’t know,” Yonghee says solemnly. He suddenly straightens then puts his chin on his palm, supported by his elbow.
“It’s okay not to know,” Woojin replies gently. “You don’t owe me any explanation, Yonghee.”
Yonghee pouts, sloshing the beer in his cup like a mini-tornado. “I just don’t think Jinyoung pays attention to me very much.” He feels petulant, but it was just honest.
“If he shows up for you then he already likes you more than you know,” Woojin says almost wistfully. Yonghee chalks it up to the haze of soju that surrounds him.
After a long pause, Woojin finally says: “I don’t think you wanted to tell me this, Yonghee. So let’s get you home.”
Woojin has been nothing but indulging of Yonghee's wants, and his voice is soft, but Yonghee can’t help but feel like he’s made a mistake.
3.
If there was something Yonghee really wanted to ask Jinyoung, it was how he survived being Byunggon’s roommate.
Because:
“Aha!” Byunggon screams, accompanied by the open slam of Jinyoung’s bedroom door. “You guys are screwing!”
He then sees Yonghee sitting on Jinyoung’s bed and Jinyoung sitting on the chair beside him, absorbed with his phone screen as Yonghee fiddles with his camera. Yonghee looks surprised, but doesn’t say a word.
Jinyoung speaks up first, looking at Yonghee. “We are? Hey, you should’ve told me. I would’ve put down my phone.”
“This must be reaaal embarrassing for you, hyung,” Yonghee says, raising his camera to click a shot of Byunggon’s quickly reddening face.
“What about it!” He defends himself, “A little birdie was shooting hearts at the both of you, so I had to test my theory out.”
“Was that little birdie named Kuanlinnie?” Jinyoung asks, exasperated. “And that was your conclusion? Not that maybe Kuanlin likes us both or something?”
“Or that you’re old and your eyes aren’t reliable anymore?” Yonghee adds.
“What, you punk?” Byunggon asks, brandishing his fist.
Jinyoung just ushers him out of the room, loudly saying, “Okay, grandpa, let’s get you to bed.”
Byunggon shrieks: “It’s literally 5am!”
Yonghee goes back to playing with his camera settings, and they don’t talk about it.
They do talk about the entire reason Yonghee was there at five in the morning: to work on their article about the lesser-known islands just outside Incheon. Their ferry to Yeongjeong Island was at eight, and they still wanted to get down to the details and locations. This was their second trip to the island, they needed to make it count and finish the article.
Yonghee had been on a ferry barely a week before, with Jinyoung, too. But unlike Jinyoung, who takes the incessant vibrating and occasional sloshing of the boat in stride, Yonghee was starting to feel nauseous. Still, they stand on the top deck, letting the wind blow their hair. Yonghee can’t help but take a photo, needing a distraction and knowing it was the perfect moment for Jinyoung.
Jinyoung grins at him, stealing the camera and telling him to capture something they can actually use for the article. So Yonghee allows Jinyoung to place the strap around his neck, and decides to just be in the moment.
Him, the restless sea, and Jinyoung, who also steals a few photos using Yonghee’s camera.
“Why do you like hanging out with me?” Yonghee asks, hoping Jinyoung doesn't hear it over the roar of the winds and the focus he had on the camera in his hands. It takes a lot of courage for him to ask that question, and it has a preposterous assumption — that Jinyoung was hanging out with Yonghee not out of necessity to protect their club's honor of having reliable stories, but because he liked doing so.
A little surprised, Jinyoung pulls the camera away from his face. He asks back: “Well… Why do you like hanging out with me? Assuming you do.”
The boat tips to the left, and Yonghee has to grip the railing a little harder, his knuckles turning white. He looks out to the waves crashing against the bottom of their boat, then decides to look at Jinyoung instead. The answer he settles on is only half-true: “Because we have skills that support each other’s weaknesses. You like writing, and I put my sentimentality in my photos.”
“Seven Team and all that, huh?” Jinyoung rubs the back of his neck. “I feel a little embarrassed about my answer now.”
Yonghee peers at him curiously. The boat lurches to the other side before settling to the left again.
“Because whenever I go to you it doesn’t get old,” Jinyoung answers, his cheeks pink. He doesn't look at Yonghee, but releases a long breath before beckoning to the seats. "Come on, let's go sit down."
Sitting down does wonders for Yonghee's seasickness, but he does miss being able to have an excuse to freely look at Jinyoung.
When they arrive at Yeongjeongdo, despite his queasiness, Yonghee is almost disappointed that the ride is over.
The old ladies that they speak to this time are kind and they tell stories of early Japanese marines, farm life, and how the current futuristic-looking rollercoaster came to be.
While Yonghee and Jinyoung know it’s impossible to capture the essence of the island in a few visits, but decide to call the work day officially over. They were mostly done and most importantly— starving. They pile into a warm food house, and quickly order two servings of Yeongjeong specialty clam noodles with dumplings on the side.
“Your hands are really cold,” Yonghee remarks when his hands brush Jinyoung’s as he passes him a bowl of noodles.
“Yeah, I know,” Jinyoung replies, visibly swallowing at the sight of the sous-vide egg atop the noodles. “Woojin-hyung said it’s because my heart is warm that my hands are always cold. In reality, probably bad circulation.”
Yonghee laughs. “How would Woojin-hyung know that? That your hands are always cold?”
“He would know because he always held my hand,” Jinyoung says slowly. He says it in a matter-of-fact, unsurprised tone, and Yonghee is confused because what the hell? Holding hands like it was normal?
“Yonghee,” Jinyoung starts, watching his flabbergasted face carefully. “You know I dated Woojin-hyung, right?”
“What? No?” Yonghee’s head starts reeling, connecting pieces of Woojin’s nonchalance when it came to Jinyoung’s behaviour that felt erratic to Yonghee to the way they were always huddled together during team meetings. “...Did you date for a long time?”
“Hm…” Jinyoung hums, blowing on a spoonful of soup. He swallows it down, then answers with another question: “Is three years a long time?”
“Three years?” Yonghee has never even stayed in one school for that long–– “When did you break up?”
“In May.” Jinyoung says, and this is the first thing he’s said in the entire conversation that isn’t a question, that he seems sure of.
“That’s only seven months ago, you assholes, am I the only one who didn’t know?!” Yonghee asks, voice raising, and he coughs and tries to act less surprised.
“I don’t know, you might,” Jinyoung says, and he’s back to the end upwards lilt.
Yonghee’s head is spinning from all the new information, he’s going back and forth between it making sense and it being absolute nonsense. It makes sense, in a way that doesn’t.
Ever since he entered the editorial team, Woojin and Jinyoung worked together as a duo, and only recently did Somi get a chance to work on back-to-back projects with Jinyoung.
This was Yonghee’s first time after a year and a half of being in the club.
And Jinyoung and Woojin were dating even before that.
"...What was it like dating Woojin-hyung?" Yonghee asks hesitantly. This is the only piece of information that won’t make him feel like he’ll explode from the shock.
Just like there was an image of Jinyoung in Yonghee’s head, there was one of Woojin. He never really thought of Woojin being able to settle down, always a bit flighty.
"You have a lot of questions,” Jinyoung muses. “Why, are you curious? You wanna give it a go?"
Yonghee thinks back to his stupid, bad, drunk confession to Woojin. About how he would crush on him. And about his crush on Jinyoung.
He scoffs. “After finding out you dated him? No thanks.”
Jinyoung shrugs. “He’s kind of funny. I laughed a lot because of Woojin-hyung, believe it or not.”
“Is that why you dated him?” Yonghee asks, unsatisfied.
“No, I…” Jinyoung pauses for a moment, and before Yonghee can tell him that there was no pressure, he should only say what he’s comfortable saying, he continues: "I didn't want him to be alone."
“Then why did you leave?” Yonghee blurts. He covers his mouth.
It’s a bold accusation, and it’s rude, but Jinyoung doesn’t even blink.
Seems like Yonghee’s accusation was true.
“After a while... You start wanting to be alone. I guess the best way to put it is. That." Jinyoung has to take a breath here, and Yonghee is so curious, but it hurts. "Sometimes people are better off as friends."
"That doesn't mean you don't love them," Yonghee mumbles, stirring his soup.
Jinyoung makes a sound of agreement, and Yonghee's head snaps up to look at him. He hadn't meant for Jinyoung to hear.
There's silence. Ten seconds, barely. But ten seconds is a lifetime. Ten seconds is life-or-death. Ten seconds is the time it takes to sum up the past and all things you hoped for eternity into three words.
"Yeah. It doesn't."
To make up for the sudden change in atmosphere, Jinyoung tries a smile, gentle and comforting.
But Yonghee hears him, and it feels like a rejection. Like a precaution not to come any closer, because the conclusion would be the same.
4.
Yonghee knows the beginnings of Woojin and Jinyoung vaguely, but Hyunsuk tells it to him better.
Woojin and Jinyoung had the typical beginnings of high school sweethearts: neighbours and childhood friends. Jinyoung had looked up to Woojin, and Woojin had always doted on Jinyoung. Woojin's parents weren't always around, so he got dropped off at Jinyoung's, where a life-long friendship that would one day turn romantic began.
There's no real turning point according either of them, but Hyunsuk says it happens during Woojin's middle school graduation. As is the pain of having workaholic parents and a best friend who went to a different middle school, Woojin was fully prepared to climb on stage with school friends and go home alone, then celebrate after with Jinyoung at the nearby diner they frequented.
To Woojin's surprise, Jinyoung came to the ceremony holding a vegetable bouquet, always ready to troll him. Jinyoung had skipped school for the day, not even telling his mother. He had appeared, and according to Woojin, he just never let go.
That's what Jinyoung meant about never wanting him to be alone.
So no matter what Hyunsuk tries to insist, it wasn’t Yonghee’s fault he felt too awkward to be around Jinyoung and Woojin.
“You've got to stop avoiding them,” Hyunsuk had hollered as Yonghee slipped his shoes on outside their shared apartment. “They’re your friends before you found out they dated in the past— why are you acting like that?”
Sure, they were his friends; but Jinyoung also happened to be the person he had been crushing on for a while and someone he had slept with. He wanted more, and he doesn't trust himself to look at Jinyoung and just not want.
Did Jinyoung previously dating a mutual friend mean Yonghee had even less chance than he originally thought he did? Woojin and Yonghee were different, was Yonghee even Jinyoung’s type?
Yonghee doesn’t want to know the answers to those questions, which is why he was avoiding them.
There’s also the fact that Yonghee likes to think he knows Jinyoung.
He knows the feeling of his skin, if he tries to remember hard enough he can remember how Jinyoung gasps when Yonghee's lips are on him. He knows that Jinyoung's hands are cold. He knows that Jinyoung likes to make ridiculous expressions when people compliment him on his appearance. He doesn't have much, but he has something, and that something mattered to Yonghee.
He knows, he knows, he knows. Genuinely, from the bottom of his heart, it's all he thinks about in his waking hours.
Still, when he looks at Jinyoung, outside of the little bubble of him, Jinyoung, and the Yeongjeong story they've put their grubby hands on, he's reminded of how much Yonghee doesn't know. How little he actually knows about Jinyoung.
Like now.
Where Jinyoung is sitting shotgun in Woojin's car, the appearance of the two people barely illuminated by the streetlamp that stands tall adjacent to the vehicle. Yonghee didn't mean to see them, he had no intentions of seeing Jinyoung today.
But just like every time he sees Jinyoung, Yonghee stops in his tracks on the makeshift pathway next to the parking lot. He's walking back to his and Hyunsuk's dorm from an evening make-up class, heart a little stuffy from all the information he's been fed and doesn't know what to do with. He figures Woojin was in the building too— they were coursemates, after all.
Woojin's car is inconspicuous, blink-and-you'll-miss-it, but Yonghee has always been too observant for his own good. He stops and for a moment, can't help but watch, drinking in Jinyoung's face.
He's excited, and to Yonghee who's no stranger to Jinyoung's default relaxed smile, it's a bit jarring. This Jinyoung looks childlike and bright, laughing so loud Yonghee can almost hear it from where he's standing. This Jinyoung Yonghee did not know.
But next to him sits Park Woojin, and maybe it's because now Yonghee is armed with the information that Woojin was Jinyoung's man for a long time, that he might still have a chance of being Jinyoung's man again –– higher than Yonghee for sure, his unhelpful brain supplies –– the ex-couple look different. Woojin looks comfortable, his energy level matching Jinyoung's, evident from how Woojin's mouth is open wide and he's jabbing a finger in Jinyoung's direction.
Maybe it's also because they're in private. The car isn't moving, but they're dancing along to a song that must be playing on the speakers. Jinyoung makes a face and in sync, they do the hammer dance. It's hilarious to them — a joke Yonghee doesn't and will never get — Jinyoung throwing his head back fully, and Woojin watches him with a huge smile.
Yonghee has to look away. It's nothing, but it's too intimate, and it hurts.
5.
So Yonghee spends the next hour walking around the neighbourhood, refusing to go home. His legs won’t take him there, instead walking into convenience stores and little food stalls to buy food under the guise of goodwill and love for Hyunsuk.
His heart seemed to be telling him not to go home for a reason, though, because when he arrives, Jinyoung is there.
Fuck. Why was he everywhere?
“What is he doing here?” Yonghee asks. He’s only looking at Hyunsuk, who’s trying to send him some signals through his face.
“Nice to see you too, Yongie,” Jinyoung replies drily.
Yonghee knows he’s being rude, but he’s tired and the reason for his hurt was—
Innocent. Jinyoung was innocent.
So Yonghee sucks it up and says, “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting guests.”
“And I wasn’t expecting you home so early,” Hyunsuk says back.
“Luckily I brought extra food. How do you feel about ddeokbokki?” Yonghee asks.
“You know I feel, baby. I’m always down.” Jinyoung says, almost earnestly, doe-eyes in effect, and for a moment, Yonghee forgets that he’s talking about food, not just Yonghee.
It’s only now that Yonghee really takes Jinyoung in. Unlike his usual slacker-fit of loose pants, hoodie and a beanie, he was in a fitted long-sleeved button-down and slacks. His hair was styled up, too. It highlighted his handsome features even more.
Making a strangled noise, Yonghee makes a beeline for the kitchen.
Hyunsuk’s at his side in record time, helping him unpack the ddeokbokki. “How’d you know?”
“If you think I knew, do you think I’d have come home?” Yonghee shoots back.
“Sorry. Jinyoung-hyung just wanted to jam,” Hyunsuk says, putting his hands in his pockets.
“It’s okay, I’m sorry for reacting that way just now.” He lifts two bowls, where the food was now neatly arranged. He says, “Have fun.”
He means it, but has no intention to participate.
Still, after Jinyoung has left, even poking his head into Yonghee’s room to bid him goodbye, Yonghee can’t help the feeling of betrayal that’s sunk low in his chest.
“If you ask me, Jinyoung doesn’t owe you anything. Yet you act like he does.” Hyunsuk says, standing at the doorway of Yonghee’s room with his arms crossed.
“I’m your best friend, why are you taking his side?” Yonghee asks, sniffling with hurt as he hugs a pillow.
“Well, asshole, remember when I touched that balloon and it burst? Who came to me?”
“Jinyoung laughed at you!” Yonghee protests.
“But he came to me.” Hyunsuk points out. “That’s how Jinyoung shows he cares.”
“How does everyone know that?” Yonghee asks. “Woojin-hyung told me that, too.”
Hyunsuk gives him a look, then says, “Maybe you should listen to his advice.”
“Stop trying to convince me that I have a chance— you know what? No. Do whatever you want. I don’t care. I’m over it.” Yonghee pulls his blanket over his shoulder, turning away from Hyunsuk. Then Yonghee gets up and tells him: “And I’m not quoting GOT7.”
He lies back down.
Hyunsuk sighs. “If you didn’t care, why do you have the ferry stub from when you travelled to Yeongjeong Island together? Or the receipts from the time you had waffles after your last exam?”
The space next to Yonghee on the bed dips, and he covers his face with a pillow to avoid looking at Hyunsuk’s inquisitive gaze. “Tell me those things don’t mean anything. That you’re not keeping parts of Jinyoung-hyung and carrying them with you. Making them yours.”
“Does it matter if I do? It’s not like Jinyoung cares.”
“That can’t be true,” Hyunsuk mumbles, but he can’t come up with anything else to say that will comfort Yonghee or prove that he’s wrong.
After a moment, Hyunsuk says gently: “Why don’t you just wait for Jinyoung-hyung to come to you this time?”
6.
“Yonghee.”
Yonghee looks up and sees Jinyoung, and tries to hide his horror with surprise. Not that he wasn’t happy to see Jinyoung. He was in the Broadcast Library, in a simple combination of white shirt, blue jeans and sliders. Between agonizing over his feelings for Jinyoung and schoolwork, he must’ve looked like a mess, hair sticking up with dark eye circles and tissues littered on his table.
He pushes all the rubbish away as Jinyoung takes a seat across from him, fiddling with his thumbs after placing a Starbucks cup holder tray on the table.
“I just wanted to know if I did anything wrong, because you haven’t really talked to me since we went to Yeongjeong. I asked Hyunsuk for your schedule— I’m sorry if it’s a bit stalkerish. I just wanted to…” Jinyoung can’t seem to look at Yonghee in the face, and Yonghee wants to laugh at how they seemed to just be in the same basket for different reasons.
“Yeah,” Jinyoung finishes lamely.
He slides a coffee cup to Yonghee. “I’m sorry I took this long to come to you.”
“At least you’re here,” Yonghee says, accepting it gratefully. “I’m sorry I made you feel unwelcome.
“It’s just… Did you know I’ve liked you since the day I first saw you? Well, I didn't like you like you,” Yonghee continues, and realizes how elementary he sounds. “But I was interested in you. Then you came into my life and decided that we should be more than two people who just passed each other.
“Now we’re friends, and I still like you," Yonghee finishes, but it's far from a conclusion.
“I didn’t know,” Jinyoung confesses.
It’s Yonghee’s turn to offer a half smile in consolation, but Jinyoung doesn’t take it, wracked by guilt. It’s written on his face, and Yonghee wishes it wasn’t this easy to read him. He wonders if it’s Jinyoung’s general habitual transparency –– both in life and emotions, or Yonghee’s own familiarity, able to read Jinyoung like a street sign.
Probably the first option.
Yonghee shrugs. “Not your fault.”
Jinyoung looks up at him and his accusing gaze is electrifying, forcing Yonghee to look away as if shocked. Lest he be enamoured by the spark in Jinyoung’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were never supposed to know,” Yonghee says. It’s an excuse, one that Jinyoung must find measly but explains everything to Yonghee. Verbalizing it brings him clarity. “No— don’t look at me like that. You don’t get to… I don’t know you, Jinyoung,” he starts, and a flash of hurt crosses Jinyoung’s face even though he knows it holds truth to both of them.
“I don’t know you outside of our world. Our little world of you, me, Byunggon, Kuanlin, Woojin— our writers and photographers. But I know this: you are so gentle and kind and… persuasive to the people you like. To me, the night we slept together. Every time we met after that. When you’re a guest in my home. You made me and my friends like you.”
All of it is honest, but by saying it aloud, even though Jinyoung’s been nothing short of nice and accommodating to Yonghee, he’s so tired. He can’t even hate Jinyoung, and it sucks.
“But once a line is crossed between like and love, if I’m not someone you don’t love back… You are so quick to shut down those who love you,” Yonghee says, and it comes out a whisper. “You draw a line, one you, for the first time, look so careful with. And you never fail to remind others of that line.
“For the first time, you look mean.”
Jinyoung’s jaw is tense, and despite Yonghee’s apologetic heart, he forges on.
“I don’t want to feel personally victimized by Bae Jinyoung. I don’t think there’s a way to make it out of that feeling unscathed. I don’t want to ever believe you’re mean— I don’t want you to draw a line. So I…” Yonghee takes a deep breath.
“The only way for you to know is if you ask where you stand,” Jinyoung says. “And you did.”
Yonghee never imagined he’d get this far. He said all of that, and for all of Jinyoung’s shock and reflection, he has yet to put Yonghee in his place. Which means—
He had never allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be loved by Jinyoung.
But he had always hoped.
For a moment, Yonghee sees his future in Jinyoung again, like that glimpse he had when Jinyoung sent him home.
"I chose to do the Yeongjeong project with you because I wanted a way to you, but I didn't know how. I came to you because... The morning after we slept together, I didn't know if you could be comfortable with me. It's awkward, right?" Jinyoung isn't looking at Yonghee, staring at his coffee cup instead. "That was the closest I had ever been to you, and...
"I thought, 'I'll never have this ever again.' That was it. I just thought I wouldn't. I really wished that I could have it again. As long as it's you. You make everything feel new."
The quiet that follows doesn't pass in seconds. Yonghee doesn't have an answer. His future sits right there, imagining what it would be like to be with him. The quiet that follows passes in milleniums, in the silent wishes they had been making for what's to come. Wherever Jinyoung tells him to go, Yonghee will follow.
Jinyoung finally looks up, and Yonghee has never looked forward to the future more.