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March 15th, 1997
The time had come.
The nine of you were huddled around the TV in Changbin’s living room, watching with bated breath as he booted up his Nintendo 64.
This was a matter of the utmost importance. It had been burning in everyone’s mind ever since Changbin revealed the new game he got a few weeks ago.
It was time for an afternoon of head-to-head, sudden death, intensely competitive Mario Kart 64.
Seungmin – perhaps sensing that the game was almost certainly going to devolve into a curse-filled bloodbath – had declared that he would sit out and enjoy watching the chaos from afar, bringing the number of players down to eight. A perfect, neat little number for a tournament bracket.
This was going to get ugly.
The first-round pairings were decided randomly, done by picking names out of a hat. It was with great trepidation that you rooted around the paper slips in Seungmin’s Haitai Tigers baseball cap and pulled out the name that would seal your fate.
You unfolded the slip, and looked down at the name scrawled onto the paper.
Han
“…Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mumbled, crumpling the paper into a ball and glaring at your future opponent.
Han’s eyes lit up when he realised the situation at hand, and gave you a smile. He was the picture of innocence. “What?”
You weren’t fooled for a second. You had years of experience playing against Han on the SNES’s Super Mario Kart. Correction: years of Han wrecking your shit at Super Mario Kart.
You tried to reason in your head that the new game and new console might change things. Maybe the controls would be slightly different, give you a bit of an edge against him.
Unfortunately, you had a sinking suspicion that this would not be the case at all.
The first-round matchups were finally set. You and Han, Minho and Felix, Chan and Changbin, and finally Jeongin and Hyunjin.
“This is gonna be fun,” Han mused, smiling pleasantly as he selected his character.
Your eye twitched when he went for his old favourite, Bowser. You were already suffering flashbacks to countless defeats at the hands of that overgrown Koopa.
“Shut the fuck up, Han,” you replied, settling on Yoshi.
As your tracks were selected, you tried your hardest to stay focused. Getting angry would only distract you, which would be playing right into his hands. Just stay calm. Collected.
…Yeah, Han absolutely kicked your ass.
The first track was close. He finished in second, you finished in fourth.
But then Han got adjusted to the new controls of the game and proceeded to wipe the floor with you.
By the time you finished the final lap of your final track – Kalimari Desert – you had been well and truly beaten. You sat back, staring at the screen as it flashed its congratulations on Han’s victory – and let out a sigh. “…Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much else.”
Han shrugged, glancing over at you and finally letting himself smirk. “Like I said, playing against you is always fun. Because…wow. Honestly? You’re terrible at this.”
“Suck my dick, Han.”
“Hey, hey,” Changbin interrupted, waving his hands between the two of you as if he could physically cut through the glare you were giving Han. “There will be no dick-sucking in my living room.”
“That seems more unfortunate for you than any of us, ‘Bin,” Hyunjin pointed out, lounging on the couch.
“Besides, there are delicate little ears that can hear you,” Minho complained, cupping his hands over Felix’s ears.
Jeongin – the youngest of the group – shot Minho a bemused look.
Felix’s expression was admirably neutral. “Yeah, I don’t need to hear that kind of filth. This is a nice, friendly competition between friends.”
“Yeah. This is a wholesome game,” Minho agreed.
Just a few minutes later, Felix was cheated out of his victory just seconds before the finish line – when Minho spanked his ass so hard, Felix’s grip on the controller fumbled and almost released entirely, allowing Minho’s Toad to sneak across the finish line in first place.
And just like that, the gloves were off.
“Oh no,” Seungmin sighed, sounding so very defeated already.
The tournament quickly became rife with dirty, underhanded tactics. Chan and Changbin got into an elbowing match by their second track, almost certainly giving each other bruises as they tried to jostle each other out of the way.
Hyunjin and Jeongin managed to keep it clean for the first three tracks, but that final circuit saw Hyunjin poking Jeongin repeatedly in the face – which backfired when his own concentration was thrown, allowing Jeongin to come up from behind and steal a dark horse victory.
By this point, you were sitting with Seungmin on the floor, passing snacks between each other. You watched as Han and Minho started trash-talking each other as the first track of the Flower Cup circuit loaded, and nibbled on a Pepero. “You know, maybe I got off a little lightly.”
“I think you mean Han got off lightly,” Felix corrected, wincing as he sat down next to you. You wouldn’t be surprised if Minho had left a handprint, given how hard he slapped his butt-cheek. “I’ve seen you play Monopoly.”
“I can’t unsee you playing Monopoly,” Seungmin muttered, unwrapping a Choco Pie.
You pouted, only feeling just a tiny bit of shame. “Not my finest moment, I’ll admit. How was I supposed to know the board would break so easily?”
“Oh, fuck you, motherfucker,” Minho yelled, as Han hit him with the dreaded blue shell.
“My precious delicate little ears,” Felix sighed, reaching for the snacks. “They’re tainted.”
“Fuck your ears!”
Felix blinked. “Uh, please don’t.”
You choked on your Pepero.
Han and Minho’s race was drawing to a nail-biting close, the two cars practically neck-and-neck as the finish line loomed closer and closer.
Your attention became fixed on the screen, finding yourself hoping that Minho would win. Or, maybe more specifically, that Han would lose. His ego could stand to take a bit of a bruising.
And it was just as you were considering this that your focus was shattered as – with a sharp, high-pitched yelp – Minho tumbled from the couch, landing on the living room rug in a heap of awkward limbs.
Above him, Han was grinning widely as he withdrew his arm and carried on driving, crossing the finish line and winning his place in the final.
Minho spun around to face him, spluttering with outrage. “Did you just push me off the couch?”
“Prove it,” Han replied, putting down the controller. The grin still hadn’t left his face. “Prove it with science.”
“This might be getting a little out of hand,” Seungmin mused from his spot next to you, as Minho launched himself at Han.
“This always happens when we decide to play Mario Kart. I don’t know why you’re surprised at this point,” Hyunjin sighed.
“Yeah. Han’s gonna win again,” Felix chimed in, pouting as he rested his head on your shoulder. You stretched an arm around his shoulders, patting him gently in sympathy. “And we’re never gonna hear the end of it. Again.”
Han laughed, a little hysterically – understandable, considering he was also trying his hardest to duck away from Minho’s wild swings. “I can’t help being so…whoa, hey, easy…being so…argh!”
He cut himself off with a shriek, as Minho managed to get him in a headlock.
“…G-guys, a little help? Chan?” He managed to gurgle.
With a weary sigh, Chan took pity on him.
Minho and Han were eventually pulled away from each other, but that did little to ease the increasingly rampant dirty tactics. Changbin and Jeongin’s semi-final, while lacking the dramatic finish that Minho and Han’s had, was filled with shenanigans. Changbin resorted to sitting on Jeongin’s lap, trying to block his view as Jeongin tried to kick him away.
It wasn’t exactly a pretty sight, but you were enjoying yourself immensely.
Jeongin only just managed to squeak by with a victory – and by victory, you meant that he managed to finish seventh out of the eight racers. The computer-controlled racers had firmly left both Changbin and Jeongin in the dust during their antics.
And so, the finals were set. Han vs Jeongin.
“OK, I’m stepping in,” Seungmin announced, as Han looked set to start on Jeongin before they even selected the final set of tracks. “We need a buffer.”
“Boo,” you mumbled under your breath.
Seungmin heard you, and there was an…interesting gleam in his eyes as he smiled at you. “Actually, you wanna help me buffer? I know you’re not going to let Han get away with anything.”
You stared back, narrowing your eyes slightly.
He…he did know you were the opposite of impartial about this final, right?
He had to know the lengths you would go to make very sure Han didn’t win this game, right?
His smile didn’t budge an inch.
Honestly? You…you think he absolutely knew those facts.
Kim Seungmin, you beautiful man.
You happily took your place on the couch, forming the ‘buffer zone’ with Seungmin between Jeongin and Han. Seungmin was stationed next to Jeongin and – coincidentally – you were next to Han.
Han had the sense to look just a little nervous as you sat down beside him.
You smiled sweetly at him. The picture of innocence. “Let’s have a nice clean game, shall we?”
Han swallowed, and looked away.
This was going to be fun.
The first track - D.K.’s Jungle Parkway – passed without incident. Han shrieked as he misjudged a sharp turn and fell into the river, falling all the way back to sixth place as Jeongin easily took the win.
The second track saw a little more excitement. Jeongin messed up the jump-start, to his (and your) horror, but managed to claw back to the front…only to be hit by a blue shell from Han. A fucking signature tactic by this point. Han won the race, Jeongin came in fourth.
When Han won – completely fucking cleanly, no blue shells in sight – at Banshee Boardwalk, your gut clenched.
This was bad.
With his second victory, Han had ensured that not only did Jeongin have to win this final track, but that Han also had to lose spectacularly. No higher than fifth place, at least, or the points system would still sneak him a win overall. And, barring some miraculous repeat of his mistake on the first track, there was very little chance of that happening.
Once again, Han was going to win, the asshole. You could already hear the evil laugh of triumph, see the victory dance.
You could sense the atmosphere of the room shift. Jeongin’s jaw clenched as the fourth and final track, Rainbow Road, loaded. He nervously fidgeted with the controller, on edge. Felix pouted at Hyunjin’s side, throwing you a disappointed look.
There was an air of general resignation, and it only worsened as Han took the lead and kept ahead for the first two laps.
It was time for you to save the day.
You had to pick the perfect moment. Too early, and he could regain his lead. Too late, and it wouldn’t stop him taking the victory.
You waited, tensing with anticipation as he sped halfway through the track.
Time was running out.
Now or never.
…Now!
And it was only as you were leaning forward that you realised you didn’t actually know what you were doing. The vaguest thought in your head was distraction, but even that barely excused the way you surged forward, the way your hand curled against the back of his head. There was a half-second of realisation on Han’s part-
-the sudden impulsive turn of his head to face this sudden movement in his periphery-
- a blink of shock at how close your face suddenly was to his -
- did you manage to jerk to a stop, or did the momentum keep you going, you can’t even remember you just know this was not the plan -
- and then your lips collided.
Kissing Han was strange. Admittedly, your experience with kissing boys was a little lacking, but you knew enough to recognise that it wasn’t unpleasant by any means. Far from it, it was…simple. Nothing dramatic or stirring, just the feeling of warm, soft lips.
You felt his breath against your mouth, releasing from him in one gasp of surprise.
And that sparked something in you. Some kind of strange twist deep in the pit of your stomach.
There was a dull thud somewhere in the background. Han had dropped his controller, letting it fall and glance off his leg onto the floor.
You pulled away, eyes widening as the full weight of what exactly you’d just done hit you.
You had just…kissed Han.
And if you – the instigator – was shocked by this revelation, you could only imagine how Han felt. He was still staring at you, his eyes – among the many, many thoughts tangled up in your head, you noted just how…pretty a brown they were – practically bulging out of his head, lips parted in shock.
Blind panic swelled inside your chest, closing your throat, roaring in your ears. You jerked away from Han, as if you’d just touched – kissed – a live wire. As you reached a safe distance, you barely managed to choke out the first words you thought of. “…H-ha! Distraction!”
Behind you, an oblivious Jeongin crossed the finish line. Cheers erupted from most of the room, those who had missed the…cataclysm on this side of the couch.
Han didn’t even seem to notice he’d lost.
Seungmin’s voice broke through the trance you found yourself in. “Uh…what just happened?”
You turned around, feeling inexplicably guilty as you met Seungmin’s dumbfounded stare. “…A non-violent compromise?”
Your heart was still hammering away in your chest.
And Han had still not said anything. Despite the loud, rowdy congratulations being showered on Jeongin, you could feel his silence behind you like a weight pressing against you.
You could hear him shift on the sofa, reaching down to pick up the controller he had dropped. When you kissed him.
Because you had just kissed Han.
You still couldn’t wrap your head around it. You couldn’t comprehend that it was a thing that had happened, literally just then.
On the screen, Bowser finally crossed the finish line, firmly in eighth place.
Minho jeered, clutching Jeongin in a tight celebratory hug. Felix, never far from a group hug, had joined them.
Trying to push down any Han-related thoughts, you barrelled towards this tangled mess of friends and threw your arms around them.
No thoughts. Just enjoy the friendship hugs of celebration.
You could just brush this off as a funny story. Any second now, Han would burst out laughing and all of this would be forgotten…
But there was no laugh. There was just the sound of him leaning back on the couch, and a slow exhale of breath.
It took a good ten minutes - spent by the rest of the group arguing over rematches and who would play who with the occasional intervention from Chan when things got too heated - before Han spoke up again. He was subdued, almost quiet. Most of the guys chalked it up to him finally being humbled at Mario Kart.
Seungmin, however, spent the afternoon glancing between the two of you, a thoughtful expression on his face.
March 16th, 1997
You woke up the next day with an undeniable feeling of guilt gnawing at your stomach. It was clear that your…distraction had crossed some kind of line with Han, judging by how weird he acted afterward. Just the thought of Han’s quiet mumbling the previous afternoon was enough to force you out of bed, ready and willing to set things right.
The first step was to spend some time with him, make it clear that everything was still normal and you could both just laugh it off like it never even happened. Prove that you were still friends - that no harm was done. Everything was fine.
Grabbing the house phone out of the cradle, you flicked through your address book, trying to find where exactly you had scribbled down Han’s landline number.
Finally, you managed to find it and punched the numbers in. You held your breath as it rang, dial tone blaring in your ear.
Just act normal. Stay calm. Be nice.
“Hello? Han residence, this is Jisung.”
“Hey, loser,” you greeted, before you could stop yourself.
Damn it. Years of making fun of Han had ingrained itself, leaving you incredibly ill-prepared to start being nice.
On the other end of the line, you heard Han pause, and then start hacking. It sounded like he’d choked on his food. You patiently waited for it to subside, and Han was finally able to stammer a reply. “H-hey.”
You waited for him to continue on, maybe ask how you were or why you were calling.
He stayed silent.
…OK.
“Uh…anyway, I was going over assignment stuff and I remembered you saying something about struggling with the Chem homework from Park? Do you want to go over it together, try to brainstorm it?”
“What, like…today?” Han asked.
You briefly moved the phone away from your ear to stare at it, hoping Han could feel the look you were giving it, before returning it to your ear again. “I mean, yeah, it’s literally due tomorrow.”
“…Oh, right. Yeah, today’s good,” Han replied. “…Do you, uh, do you want to come over to mine?”
His response caught you off-guard. You hadn’t been in the Han apartment for years – usually, your group met up at your place or Changbin’s. Apartments where parents were always out at work and not around to bother you.
But maybe hanging out with Han in his own familiar surroundings would help things, reassure him a little more.
“Sure, sounds good. I can be there in, like, an hour?”
“Y-yeah, I can get ready by then. I’ll…I’ll see you soon, then.”
That wasn’t exactly a convincing response, but you took what you could get. “Cool, see you then.”
Han made a sound over the phone, as if he were halfway through a word, before suddenly cutting off with a cough. “Uh, yep, so…bye!”
And with that, he hung up.
You stared down at the phone in your hand.
Wow. You had…never heard Han act so awkward before.
You felt a brief stab of guilt at that thought. Wow, you really had messed up. Maybe you’d even made him uncomfortable.
…Yeah, an apology was definitely in order.
So, with an assortment of apology snacks and textbooks in your bag, you set off for his apartment an hour later.
Still, at the front door, you lingered when you caught your reflection in the mirror. You looked the same as always - the usual combination of t-shirt and jeans, little flower hair clip, rainbow bead-bracelet - but today, something felt…off.
You studied your face, and frowned. Should you…should you put on lip gloss?
No, that was dumb. Why would you need lip gloss? You were just hanging out with Han.
Pushing these lingering self-doubts to the back of your mind, you shouldered your bag and headed out.
Han’s apartment was on the floor just below yours. You took the elevator down in silence, trying to figure out exactly what to say.
You had to act casually, right? Not make a big deal out of things, not jump to any conclusions. Just…keep things normal.
Putting on a bright smile as soon as the elevator doors opened, you wandered along to Apartment 225, and knocked on the door.
To your surprise, the person who opened the door wasn’t Han – but instead his grandfather, holding a newspaper and blinking at you owlishly behind thick reading spectacles.
You smiled at him politely. “Hello, sir.”
You didn’t know much about Han’s grandfather, just that he’d retired a few years ago and helped raise Han while Han’s dad worked full-time. Oh, and he really liked liquorice. And wore adorable sweaters.
“Hello. I assume you’re here for Jisung?”
“Yes, sir,” you said, keeping that polite smile plastered on your face. “Is it OK if I come in and see him? We have…homework and stuff.”
Mr. Han didn’t seem entirely convinced by your awkward tone, despite the fact that you were technically telling the truth. But his face softened. “…Alright. He’s in his room. Make sure to keep him focused, he’s been a little…well, he’s been a little off since he came home yesterday.”
You faltered slightly mid-step over the threshold, smile wobbling.
Inside, you were greeted with a homey, if more than a little old-fashioned, apartment. In the living room, there was a plush armchair sat facing the television – which was, judging by the image of a glamorous Vanna White turning over some letters, a rerun of Wheel of Fortune with the volume turned way higher than you usually watched TV at home. An ashtray sat on one arm of the chair, a lit cigarette resting in the holder. On the other arm sat a little paper bag of liquorice candies.
It was on the coffee table that you finally caught little traces of Han shining through. Magazine issues were stacked in a pile, untidy enough that you could catch glimpses of both English and Korean headlines. You recognised the band on the cover of the top magazine: a Korean hip-hop group, one you couldn’t quite remember the name of. But you definitely remembered that they disbanded last year, if only because Chan, Changbin and Han had been inconsolable for days after the news broke.
Before you could spend too long ruminating on the memory of Han’s dejected expression during those days, you found yourself at his bedroom door.
When you knocked gently, the door swung open under your knuckles. Hesitantly, you ducked your head through the gap.
Han was sat at his desk, staring down at a history textbook.
You raised an eyebrow, seeing through this ruse. Han wasn’t into history, he was into science. Physics, especially. And had a bit of a soft spot for creative writing.
He didn’t look up from the book, even as you quietly stepped inside and closed the door behind you.
Well, this was a great start.
You cleared your throat. “Hi.”
Han finally looked up, eyeing you across the room. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair and stretched out his arms. “’Sup?”
You blinked. You don’t think you had ever heard Han say that in your life. “Uh…nothing much, I guess. I brought the chem sheets, I’m thinking we get that over and done with and then just hang out? If you want?”
Han’s mouth twitched. He fidgeted with the pages of the textbook in front of him, practically radiating nervous energy. “Uh…do you want?”
You blinked. “Uh, yeah? Why else would I suggest it?”
“…Right! That was a dumb question.”
“Uh-huh,” you agreed, then chastised yourself. No, you were here to be nice to him. You had put the poor boy through enough this weekend.
It turned out that your brain couldn’t quite figure out the delicate skill that was ‘being nice to Han’, because the next words that came out of your mouth surprised even yourself. “But you’re cute, so I’ll forgive you.”
Han stared at you.
You froze.
…Where the fuck had that come from?
Han averted his gaze, clearing his throat and managing to conjure up some of his usual bravado. “I…I am pretty cute, yeah. Thanks for noticing.”
Fortunately, this time you had the good sense to bite your tongue. Instead of responding immediately, you turned away from Han and flopped onto his bed, shrugging your bag off of your shoulder.
“I looked over some of the questions, and I think I recognise some of the stuff he’s talking about but…” you flicked through your worksheet, eyeing the very few formulas you had managed to solve on your own and the many you had left blank. “Yeah, yikes, this is gonna take some brain-work. I swear Park is just trying to make us suffer at this point…”
You looked up to see Han staring at you, wide-eyed.
You blinked. “Uh…you OK there?”
Han swallowed.
“Y-you’re on my bed,” he pointed out.
You looked down at where you were sat. Was sitting here an issue? Had you somehow crossed another line without even trying? “I…I can move, if you want?”
“No! No, it’s fine!” Han yelped, holding up his hands. “Make yourself at home.”
It didn’t feel fine. In fact, the longer you sat there, the more awkward you felt. It had just felt second nature to collapse onto the bed, it was comfy and warm and…and it was a place to sit! Nothing more than that.
This should not be awkward. You and Han were friends, and beds were just…soft squishy things to sleep on. Getting awkward about them would…would mean you felt awkward about Han. Which was very clearly not true. You felt great about Han. Completely normal about Han.
Maybe it was the way you were sitting. Just perched on the edge, shoulders hunched like a bird of prey. Maybe you would feel a little less awkward with a little more manoeuvring. Twisting around, your front hit the mattress with a soft thump. Shifting around a little to get comfortable, you leaned up onto your forearms to grab your worksheets and mumbled your response. “Good.”
Han made some kind of noise from across the room, not quite a yelp and not quite a cough. Somewhere in the middle.
Your head jerked up at the sound, and the look on his face was enough to give you pause. You put down your sheets. “Uh…Han. Are we…are we OK?”
Han was still staring at you, a little dazed. “Huh?”
“Us. Our…” you gestured back and forth between the two of you. “Our whole thing. We good? You’re not…mad at me about yesterday?”
Han blinked, before his face suddenly flushed as he realised what you were referring to by ‘yesterday’. There was a beat of silence, before Han spoke with the quietest of voices. “No. I’m not mad.”
You swallowed, slumping with relief as you let out a deep sigh. “Good. I was worried.”
Han watched you very carefully, hesitating, before slowly approaching you. He stopped at the foot of his bed, looking down at you with an uncharacteristically nervous expression. “Um…w-why were you worried?”
That was another dumb question. Han was really on a roll today.
And yet, you struggled to answer. You weren’t used to saying mushy shit, so it took every ounce of your willpower to mutter the words in your head. “Because…uh, you kinda…mean a lot to me. It would, like, suck if you were mad.”
Han’s ears were rapidly turning a dark red, and the flush was starting to spread across his face. He looked down at the floor for a second, clearly embarrassed.
You were strangely reassured by this, in a weird way. It was a sign that he too was unable to handle gross emotional bullshit.
Han took a deep breath, before slowly sitting down on his bed.
“You…mean a lot to me too,” he admitted.
He said it like it was some big secret, which was kind of weird - Hyunjin was the dramatic one of your group, not Han - but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
“Good,” you said, pushing yourself back up to a seated position. The two of you sat there, a mirror image of each other. Han’s bed was on the small side, which meant the two of you were close - maybe half a foot of distance between your faces, if that. “That’s good.”
You were so reassured by this closure, this confirmation that your friendship had in fact survived your own dumb decisions, that you completely missed the shy way he leaned in towards you, head ducking ever so slightly–
“So, friends again?”
Han froze, inches away from your face.
You blinked at his sudden closeness, jerking away in shock.
Han stared at you. You didn’t miss the way his brows furrowed, nor the way his breath stopped. “…Friends?”
…Had you missed something here?
“Y-yeah,” you replied, voice growing hoarse. “Friends. Buddies. Amigos.”
He continued to stare, his face completely unreadable.
You turned completely away from him to start flicking through your worksheet.
“S-so, I was thinking, uh, question seven? You’re pretty good at balancing–”
Han cut you off. “So, you don’t…?”
He trailed off, but his voice was enough to put you on edge.
You looked up, locking eyes with him.
“You don’t…like me, then?”
It was such a simple question. It should have been so easy to just say ‘no’. And yet, it was like every word he spoke peeled away another inch of your skin. You felt raw. Exposed.
And you hated it.
Maybe that was why you got so defensive.
“Of course not,” you replied, wrinkling your nose. “Why?”
“Why?” Han repeated, looking more than a little offended. “Dude, you literally kissed me.”
Your jaw dropped at his outburst. Yes, of course you already knew this. But hearing Han say it out loud?
It made it…real.
Memories flashed in your mind, entirely unbidden. The moment of contact, the way his lips had felt against yours.
You looked away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Y-yeah, as a distraction. I even said that when…it happened.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to face Han until you’d recovered, so you had no idea what his expression was when he finally replied. “…So, you definitely don’t like me?”
That exposed, vulnerable feeling was back, crawling under your skin. “No. I don’t like you.”
“And you didn’t actually want to kiss me?”
You hesitated, the question sticking in your mind. “…No.”
“And you…just want to be friends?”
You felt something sprout deep in your gut, heavy and cold and guilty.
“Well, yeah. What else would we be?”
You think your words were supposed to reassure him. Or yourself. Both?
Han didn’t look reassured. For just a split-second, Han looked hurt.
And then, before you could even react, his face smoothed over. He gave you a smile, tight-lipped and placid, before standing up. “…You’re right. Friends.”
Friends.
You watched him walk over to his desk to grab his chemistry homework. It was impossible to look anywhere but him. The cold, sinking feeling in your stomach refused to disappear.
Still turned away from you, Han cleared his throat. “So, question seven, yeah?”
March 22nd, 1997
Things with Han were…weird.
He was quiet, which was a word you would never have associated with Han a week ago. Sure, you still saw him every day at school. You still sat with him at lunch and listened to him complain about classes and teachers and the LG Twins baseball team, but that was always him talking to the group, never to you.
You had bumped into him once between classes, and all he’d done was nod. He didn’t even stop when he saw you, he just kept walking right past you.
That afternoon in Han’s bedroom had been awkward, uncomfortable even. But that moment in the hallways, where he just glanced right through you like you were invisible? That hurt. You had spent the next hour of class rewinding the moment in your head, heart pounding in your ears, eyes fixed on the blank notebook in front of you until the teacher yelled at you for not paying enough attention.
If you were braver, you’d confront him, ask him directly what his issue was.
Instead, you retreated to the safety of the one place you could talk about…boy problems.
And so, you found yourself knocking on your next-door neighbour’s door, swallowing nervously as it swung open.
“Oh! Hello, sweetheart!”
“Hi, Mrs. Hwang.”
Just the sight of Mrs. Hwang was enough to make you smile. Your own mother had been…well, out of the picture for most of your life. And with your father working full-time, Mrs. Hwang had been the natural choice to help look after you: she lived right next door, she had a daughter only a year or so younger than you, and – of course – you were best friends with her son, Hyunjin.
And whenever you needed advice, you turned to her.
“I’m afraid if you’re here for Hyunjin, he already left for dance practice.”
You knew this already. Hyunjin always had dance practice on Saturdays, and then always complained on Sundays about how sore he was. “I know. I’m…um, I kind of need to talk about something…private? If that’s OK?”
Mrs. Hwang’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but she was quick to open the door even wider. “Of course! Come in, I’ll make some tea.”
You sighed in relief, stepping into the apartment.
She took a closer look at your face as you passed, and frowned. “And maybe some soup.”
Your eyes lit up. Mrs. Hwang’s chicken soup was a transcendent experience. Coming here was absolutely, one hundred percent the right choice. “Yes, please!”
In stark contrast to your experience entering the unfamiliar, antiquated Han apartment, the Hwangs’ home was a comforting sight. There were signs of Hyunjin and Yeji everywhere, from the embarrassing school pictures on the mantel to the dance leggings strewn over the ironing board and the stack of Tiger Beat and Teen magazines on the sofa. Even your own presence popped up occasionally, as the third face in childhood photos and in the wobbly, hand-made ceramic plate in the china cabinet. You could still remember the day little seven-year-old you had presented it to Mrs. Hwang, nervously looking at your shoes as you did so and mumbling about how all the kids had made one for Mother’s Day.
Behind the closed door on the right, you could hear music and muffled conversation. Yeji must be having a friend over.
Mrs. Hwang noticed the way your eyes had glanced over to Yeji’s bedroom door. “Oh, Yeji had Ryujin and Lia over last night for a sleepover. She might pop in and out to grab a snack, just to warn you.”
“That’s fine,” you shrugged, following Mrs. Hwang to the kitchen. “It’s not, like…private private, exactly. I just, uh, kind of don’t want the boys to…”
You trailed off, but Mrs. Hwang seemed to understand what you were struggling to put into words. “Well, sit down dear. Tell me what’s upsetting you.”
“I’m not upset!” You blurted out, indignant.
Mrs. Hwang raised an eyebrow, but whether it was at your tone of voice or because you were utterly unconvincing, you couldn’t tell.
You wilted a little, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Sorry. I’m just…a little confused.”
How exactly could you explain this situation? You pondered this very question, trying to decide just how much detail you had to keep in.
Mrs. Hwang patiently waited for you to collect your thoughts, filling the kettle with water to place on the stovetop. “So, which of your boys is this about? Hyunjin?”
There was a teasing edge to the way she said Hyunjin’s name. You chalked it up to just the way mothers liked to make fun of their sons sometimes. “No, it’s Han.”
Mrs. Hwang frowned. “Oh, little Jisungie? What’s happened?”
“Uh, so basically…last weekend, we all played this video game and it was this big tournament. And we all kind of mess around and distract each other to stop the other person winning. Anyway, I…” you trailed off, already feeling embarrassed at the idea of Mrs. Hwang knowing you had kissed a boy, let alone that boy being Han. “I joined in to do this to Han, to help Jeongin win. And…I dunno, it’s weird…”
You swallowed. “Like, I apologised the day after, and Han said it was OK. But since then, he’s just kind of…been avoiding me.”
Mrs. Hwang hummed in thought, mulling over your words. “…You said it was a competition?”
“Yes.”
“And he lost?”
“Yep.”
Mrs. Hwang carefully set down two mugs onto the kitchen counter, dropping a tea bag in each as the kettle began to boil.
You fidgeted in your seat, already starting to overthink as Mrs. Hwang continued to make the tea in silence. “I don’t…I don’t think he’s upset about losing, really. Han’s never gotten mad about losing games before. So, I…yeah, I don’t really know what’s going on.”
“Well,” Mrs. Hwang said, filling the cups. “It’s certainly not like Jisung to shut people out so easily. It sounds like there’s something deeper here.”
You nodded. “Yeah, but…how do I even ask him what’s wrong when he’s like this?”
She set your teacup down in front of you. You stared down at the dark liquid in the cup, barely registering the familiar floral scent.
Mrs. Hwang gave you a gentle pat on the head. “Drink your tea, dear.”
You obliged, taking a tiny sip. You were still a bit of a wuss when it came to hot drinks, and you knew that downing the cup – as you were sorely tempted to do – would only burn your tongue.
Mrs. Hwang, the badass that she was, took a long, uninterrupted drink from the steaming-hot cup and set it back down. “Now, this is just one woman’s opinion here, sweetheart. But is it possible that Jisung might have wanted to impress you? In that video-game competition?”
You frowned. “Why would he want to do that? That’s dumb.”
Mrs. Hwang stared at you for a moment, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
You stared back, still confused.
She sighed. “Well, sometimes boys do silly things when they like someone.”
You blinked, unable to take in her words for a moment.
And then the full force of her statement hit you like a train.
“I…I…” you spluttered, eyes widening. “Uh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Hwang. I think I just had a stroke. What?”
“I think you heard me well enough,” Mrs. Hwang said, drinking her tea. “It’s possible that the boy likes you.”
“Wait, what? What boy?”
You turned around in your chair to see Yeji standing in the doorway, looking positively riveted.
“A boy likes you?” Yeji asked, delighted. She made a beeline for the seat next to you, plonking herself down.
“No! No one likes me!” You argued, face flushing.
Yeji grinned, idly playing with the strands of her long, blonde hair. “Can I guess?”
“There’s nothing to gue–”
“Is it Felix? Seungmin? Oh my God! Is it Hyunjin?” Yeji let out a cackle. “Please tell me it’s Hyunjin, holy shit–”
“Language!” Mrs. Hwang chided, frowning at her daughter.
Yeji mumbled an apology to her mother, before launching back into her interrogation. “Did I guess it?”
“No, because it’s no one,” you repeated, scowling.
“Is it Jisung?”
You mouth snapped shut, unable to stop your cheeks burning even hotter. “No!”
Yeji stared at you, her grin a mile wide, before outright howling. “Oh my God! Aww, Jisung!”
You pressed your hands to your face, sinking lower into your chair. “Han doesn’t…”
You trailed off, freezing.
He…he doesn’t. He definitely doesn’t. It’s not like he treats you any differently from the rest of the group.
…Well, except that one time he saved you the last Bagel Bite.
But that was just him being nice. He knew you loved Bagel Bites.
And that time he got weird when you asked him if your new jeans made your butt look OK, which was dumb because literally just a week earlier he’d hyped the shit out of how good Changbin’s new Chicago Bulls shirt made his arms look.
But that doesn’t mean he likes you.
You…mean a lot to me too.
…Oh, fuck.
“E-even if he does,” you tried to argue, pulling your hands away from your face to speak. “It’s not like I like him back, not like that.”
Yeji took one look at your expression. “…Uh-huh. Sure.”
“I don’t!”
And you meant it. You were absolutely sure you had zero non-platonic feelings towards Han, of all people. He was…he was just Han.
Yeah, you supposed that someone could, in theory, call Han pretty and not be incorrect. You weren’t blind.
That still didn’t mean you personally were attracted to him. Definitely not.
And then, like a traitor, your brain replayed that quiet, soft gasp he made when you kissed him, and the way it had made your stomach flutter.
From there, it only escalated. The moment right before your lips met, the sudden realisation that on sheer instinct, kissing had been the immediate go-to strategy your body had chosen.
Even earlier, memories of the days you would sit side-by-side with him in front of the TV, watching sit-coms and laughing way harder at Han’s dumb jokes than at anything onscreen. Waiting around to watch him play baseball even though you found the game duller than watching paint dry. That one time he dyed his hair orange and for some reason, you were weirdly…not mad at it.
“…Oh no,” you groaned, the penny finally dropping. “Oh no, this is terrible.”
Yeji cackled again, resting her head in the palm of her hand. “This is amazing.”
Mrs. Hwang cleared her throat, drawing your attention back to her.
She gave you a reassuring smile, eyes warm. “Sweetheart, if you want my advice…”
You learned forward, filled with anticipation.
“The most important thing is to talk to him about this, no matter what you decide to do in the end. Keeping silent will only make things worse.”
Talk to him.
That sounded…terrifying. But achievable.
“I’ll…I’ll talk to him,” you said, slowly nodding your head. “The sooner, the better.”
Tomorrow. You would do it tomorrow. The gears in your head were already turning, as you started to draw up a strategy.
Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Yeji smirking. You turned to shoot her a glare, only to be met with an even wider smirk.
“‘The sooner, the better’,” she mimicked you, waggling her eyebrows. “Scandalous.”
You scowled. “Shut up, Yeji.”
“Oh! Actually, I have a question,” Yeji said, not shutting up at all. “Why do you always call him ‘Han’?”
You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing immediately sprang to mind. “Uh…what do you mean?”
“I mean, you never call him ‘Jisung’. Like, ever. How come?”
You paused, mind stuttering to a halt. “I…I don’t know. Calling him that feels…I mean, does there have to be a reason?”
“There doesn’t have to be,” Yeji conceded, tapping away at the tabletop, before turning devilish. “But there definitely is. And I bet I can guess it.”
“Whatever you say,” you muttered, scowling.
“Does hearing his name make you all mushy? Does it make you all soft and fluttery? Oh, Jisungie–”
“I am dangerously close to throwing something at you.”
Mrs. Hwang smiled fondly at your squabbling, before draining her cup and moving to get up from her seat. “Give me two minutes, I just need to grab another load of laundry from the dryer downstairs, and I’ll be right back to start on that soup. OK?”
“Sounds great! Thank you, Mrs. Hwang,” you said, braving another mouthful of hot tea. You noted with some relief that it had cooled slightly while you had been speaking. Now, it was only mildly scalding.
“You’re welcome. Try not to murder each other while I’m gone, I just cleaned the floor,” she said, patting you on the shoulder as she walked past. She took a slight detour on her way out to grab an empty laundry basket, and then she was gone.
You settled into your chair, letting out a long, deep sigh of relief. This was exactly what you had needed, a nice cup of tea and a patient ear to vent to.
And then Yeji shot you a look of pure mischief, and you realised with a sudden jolt of dread that with her mother gone, she could say exactly what was on her mind.
“If you want my advice,” Yeji said, an amused gleam in her eye. “Make sure you wear something low-cut when you talk to Jisung.”
You choked on your tea. “…Sorry, what?”
Her smirk threatened to split her face in half. Taking her time to stretch out her arms, very aware that she had managed to capture your full attention, she finally responded with an air of nonchalance. “Remember that time the guys managed to convince us to play baseball with them, and you had to borrow my sports bra?”
You winced, remembering the pain of that tiny garment squeezing out your vital organs. “Yeah?”
“Well, trust me when I say that Jisung absolutely remembers that day too.”
You stared at her, wide-eyed, entirely speechless.
Yeji shrugged, stealing a sip of your tea before speaking up again. “Honestly, I’d bet all the guys remember. There’s a reason your team won that game, and it wasn’t your amazing pitching skills.”
Your face flushed, looking back on that day through an entirely new lens. Now that Yeji mentioned it, there was a surprising number of strikeouts that day. “…Huh. I did wonder why Chan suddenly decided to swap me in to pitch. And here’s me thinking they all just sucked at batting.”
“I mean, that too,” Yeji laughed, getting up to grab an apple from the fruit bowl. “Definitely that too. Anyway, call us when the soup’s ready, yeah?”
March 23rd, 1997
“Hello, this is the Han residence. Jisung speaking?”
You swallowed at the sound of his voice. Had it always been that…warm? Before you could chicken out, you took a deep breath.
You could do it. Han, I need to talk to you. Han, I need to talk to you.
“Han, I need you.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, punctuated only by the sound of your hand slapping against your forehead.
Well done.
“Uh…what?”
You hurried to correct yourself. “Need to talk to you. I need to talk to you.”
He didn’t respond right away, and when he did, there was an edge of caution in his voice. “About what?”
About how you think you’ve liked him for months, and how you kind of want to kiss him again and how you really hope he’ll be cool with that.
“Just…stuff,” you said, lamely.
“Uh, I’m kind of busy with assignments right now. Can it wait until tomorrow?”
You swallowed, confidence rapidly deteriorating in the face of his quiet disinterest. “…I guess it can but–”
“Cool, see you tomorrow.”
March 24th, 1997
“Sorry, I’ve got to run some errands for my grandfather. Does Wednesday work?”
March 26th, 1997
“I completely forgot that Minho roped me into trying out his new dance class today. Friday?”
March 28th, 1997
“Chan wants to invite a bunch of us out for dinner. It makes sense to all go together. As a group. We can talk one-on-one over the weekend, right?”
March 29th, 1997
“Sorry, I need to start cramming for Park’s test next week. What? …N-no, it’s OK, I work better when I’m by myself. I’ll see you…around. Soon. Probably.”
March 30th, 1997
“This is getting ridiculous,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and leaning back into the grass. “He’s cancelled on me, like, nearly every day this week.”
“Gee,” Seungmin responded, without a single ounce of sympathy. “I wonder why.”
It was a quiet Sunday morning, surprisingly warm outside for late-March. The two of you were sat in the local park, enjoying the weather.
“It can’t be over the kiss. Literally the day after it happened, Han was fine with me coming over to talk. What’s different now?”
Seungmin was in an unenviable position right now. On the one hand, he was the only witness to The Kiss and therefore the only person you could be totally and completely honest with. On the other hand, Seungmin found precisely zero comfort in being dragged into people’s sordid personal lives. He could absolutely be trusted to keep a secret, but that didn’t stop him from squirming the second you started talking about Han.
But he was also one of your best friends, so he gritted his teeth and made an attempt to engage with you. “I dunno. Did you say or do something the day after, something that would make him weird like this?”
“No,” you frowned, going over the conversation in your head.
“You sure?” Seungmin asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know what could make things weirder than surprise kissing–”
“Distraction kissing.”
“–but I’m sure that you could somehow find a way.”
“Literally nothing happened!” You whined, pushing his shoulder. “I apologised for the whole kiss thing, and we said we were friends. And then we worked on one of Park’s dumb worksheet assignments. That’s it. So, unless Han gets all hot and bothered over chemical thermodynamics, which wouldn’t exactly be my fault…”
Seungmin tilted his head. “Wait. Did he say you were friends, or did you say it?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. Yes, it absolutely does.”
“…Well, uh…” you trailed off, looking down at the neatly trimmed blades of grass you were fidgeting with. “In that case…”
With a weary sigh, Seungmin turned away to stare up at the sky. “You said it, didn’t you?”
“Maybe…” you mumbled. “But in my defence–”
You cut yourself off, reliving that moment. The way Jisung had looked at you, the way his face had been so close when it happened, almost like…
“Oh, shit.”
Seungmin turned back to give you a bemused look. “That’s not much of a defence.”
“Shit,” you repeated, eyes growing wide in horror. “Seungmin, uh…you know when you said I could somehow find a way to make things worse?”
He closed his eyes, eyebrows pinching together as he raised his hand to massage his temples. “Oh, my God. What did you do?”
“So, uh, hypothetically speaking, do you think that…telling Han we were still friends when he might have been trying to kiss me counts as making things worse?”
Seungmin made a noise of pure exasperation, and collapsed back onto the grass. “Why are you like this?”
“I didn’t mean to!” You complained. “I just…”
A whole heap of emotions started to well up in your chest – guilt, frustration, remorse – and it was enough to make you join Seungmin on the ground, falling back with a huff.
“How do I fix this?” You muttered quietly, more to yourself than to anyone else.
Seungmin sighed, and rolled over to face you. “…Are you doing anything this afternoon?”
“Besides curling up into a ball and regretting my existence? Nah, not really.”
“What if, somehow, someone were to tell Han that we were all meeting up at your place to hang out?”
You turned your head to look at him, eyes wide.
“And what if that someone were to go so far as to walk Han all the way to your door, just to make sure you two could finally sort things out in peace?”
“Seungmin,” you said, looking him straight in the eye. “You might actually be the greatest person I know.”
“Probably, yeah,” he replied nonchalantly, sitting back up and stretching out his arms. “But I swear to God, if you somehow managed to mess things up again, you’re on your own.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing yourself back up to a seated position. Reaching over, you nudged his shoulder with yours. “But, seriously, thank you for all this.”
“That’s what friends are for, apparently,” he sighed, every inch the long-suffering, put-upon best friend.
With a smile, you raised your arms. “Fair warning, I’m going to hug you now.”
Seungmin sighed again, but acquiesced. “Of course you are.”
You threw your arms around him, clutching him tightly. Closing your eyes, you lay your head against his shoulder. “You’re the bestest, ‘Min.”
“Yes,” Seungmin replied, before hesitantly returning the hug with one arm, curling it around your waist and squeezing lightly. His chin rested on the top of your head. “Yes, I am.”
You stayed like that for a moment, before releasing him. His arm stayed around you for a fraction of a second longer, before he awkwardly patted you on the back.
“But seriously, this is the last time I get involved in your personal life.”
What exactly should someone wear when they were trying to confess their gross feelings for their childhood best friend?
A dress seemed like too much. Your usual sweatpants and t-shirt seemed like too little.
You had called Yeji almost immediately after those two options had been ruled out, but her advice left a lot to be desired.
“Don’t overthink it! Just wear what something you feel comfortable in. But also, like I said, something that makes your boobs look great. Both of these things are important. Let me know if you want to borrow my sports bra again!”
You didn’t take her up on that offer – but as you stared blankly at your wardrobe, you found yourself increasingly tempted.
Attracting guys wasn’t really something you had in mind when buying your clothes, so nothing really stood out as an ‘aha, that will get him!’ item. Maybe you could wear a skirt? Did Jisung like skirts?
Ugh, you were definitely overthinking this.
Jeans. Jeans seemed safe. You grabbed your nicest pair, confident in your choice, and slid into them without much thought.
Tackling your top half was an entirely different story. You knew that if Yeji were here, she would immediately seize your lowest scoop-neck top and fling it at your face. But the idea of just standing there, your cleavage on show just seemed…weird. Like you were some kind of art exhibit to be gawked at, or worse, laughed at.
Was there some kind of compromise here?
You caught sight of the red flannel shirt hanging near the back, and an idea began to form in your mind. Shrugging it on, you kept a careful eye on your reflection in the mirror as you buttoned it up, pausing when you got to the top.
One button undone. Two.
Your fingers paused on the third.
Undoing two buttons was blurring the line between playing it safe and maybe edging into something more flirtatious. Undoing three felt like some kind of statement, a commitment.
You bit your lip. Eh, what the fuck?
You unbuttoned the third one, and let out a deep breath.
…Wow, you really were making this a bigger deal than it needed to be.
You looked good. You looked like yourself. One little button wasn’t the end of the world.
The most important thing was finally sorting this whole mess out, coming clean and getting everything out into the open.
You were going to be fine.
And then you heard the knock at your front door, and suddenly your composure disappeared from your body entirely.
Holy shit, no, you were absolutely not going to be fine.
Get it together. Deep breaths. Get this over with.
You silently made your way to the front door, hands bunched into fists at your side.
Three. Two. One.
Do it.
You opened your door, forcing a smile onto your face.
Despite all your pep-talks, the sight of Han was still like a shock to the system. You were incredibly proud of the fact that your smile didn’t budge an inch when the two of you locked eyes over Seungmin’s shoulder. “Hi.”
Han faltered, nodding once before averting his gaze. “Hi.”
Seungmin raised an eyebrow, visibly amused by your interaction. “Hey.”
Swallowing, you stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
Seungmin breezed into the living room, followed closely by a trudging Han, whose eyes were trained on the floor.
You tried not to look at either of them, making no attempt to move further into the room as you tried to steel yourself for the situation ahead of you.
Seungmin managed to last barely ten seconds of awkward silence, before he smiled widely and headed back towards the door. “Oh, wow. I suddenly remember I have to do a very important…thing. Now. See you later.”
“Wait, what?” Han asked, spluttering. “B-but…”
“Have fun, you two,” Seungmin said, ignoring him completely as he reached the door. He took one last look at you, and said in a somewhat softer tone, “and relax. What’s the worst that can happen?”
A thousand different possibilities ran through your head at his question, each and every one of them the worst. Before you could respond, he had already wandered through the doorway, politely but firmly grabbing the outside doorknob and closing it behind him.
The door shut with a quiet thud, and the two of you were left alone.
You finally managed to pluck up enough courage to look at Han – to really look at him – for the first time. Your mouth went dry at the soft waves in his hair, the growing swell of his biceps under his t-shirt, the slight parting of his lips.
Oblivious to your ogling, Han spoke up in a panic. “Uh…what just happened? Where is everyone?”
You swallowed, shaking yourself out of your Han-induced trance. “Well, this…this may or may not be…”
“An ambush?”
“I was going to say ‘intervention’, but I guess technically, you’re not wrong,” you conceded, crossing your arms over your chest. “In fairness, you’ve been avoiding me all week. How else could I get you alone to talk?”
Han blinked, as if suddenly regaining focus, before looking somewhat sheepish. “I haven’t been avoiding you–”
“Bullshit,” you replied, raising one sceptical eyebrow.
“…OK, maybe. But I don’t know what even needs talking about. We already sorted it,” Han pointed out, his words starting to quicken and blur together as he grew more and more nervous. “I’m fine, you’re fine. Everything goes back to normal.”
“But it’s not!”
Your words lingered in the air, and even he couldn’t miss the anger and the hurt in them. You caught the way his eyes softened, the way his body shifted towards you like he was fighting the urge to go to you, comfort you.
“You’re avoiding me. But I know that…this is partially my fault,” you said, before holding your hands up and gesturing around you. “So, this is me trying to fix things.”
Han, the expressive boy that he was, had a mixture of emotions on that breath-taking face. Intrigue, wariness, confusion, dread. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking in his appearance again, distracted by how undeniably pretty he was. You had half a mind to call him prettier than you.
Had you really been so convinced that Han liked you back? Just from looking too closely at some words and a…a lean towards you. What if you had just completely misjudged this whole thing?
You took a deep breath. Even if you were wrong about his feelings, you knew what yours were.
If only you could actually put them into words. Out loud.
You swallowed, clenching and unclenching your fists. Your palms were starting to get clammy.
“Uh…I…do you want to sit down?” You asked, pointing to the couch.
“Do you? You look like you’re going to pass out.”
Honestly, that wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. Moving towards the couch was enough of an opportunity to stall, and you took it gladly. Han took a seat, but you hesitated at the very last second. Instead of sitting, you stood in front of him, forcing Han to have to tilt his head up to look at you.
This new position of power was enough to soothe your nerves, if only slightly. “Things…were said that day, th-that weren’t exactly…true.”
“What things?” Han asked, cautiously, staring at you like you were a puzzle he couldn’t figure out.
“…It might not necessarily be true that I…don’t like you,” you said, the words slow and shaky.
There was a pause, before Han’s brow creased in pure confusion. “…Wait, what?”
“W-when I said that I didn’t like you…” you trailed off, throat literally closing up under the weight of your nerves. The words you wanted to say just continued to build up, almost choking you on your emotions. “I…oh my God, why is this so hard?”
While you were facing your own internal crisis, a gleam had entered Han’s eye. He relaxed against the couch, tilting his head slightly. “What is?”
You stilled, eyes locking with him. Han. A million thoughts rushed through your mind, burned in your throat, coursed through your veins, and yet somehow the first one to make it out of your mouth was: “You have pretty eyes!”
Han blinked, genuinely taken aback by the compliment you had practically shouted at him. “…What?”
You couldn’t stop. Like a dam finally breaking, every little thought you had was spilling out of your mouth with no end in sight. “Th-they’re nice and warm and brown, and when I look into them sometimes, I can’t breathe. I don’t know anything about baseball but I still love when you ramble on about Lee Jong-beom because you get so passionate and I can’t ever ask you to stop. So now I know, like, so much about the Haitai Tigers – too much, maybe – because of you and I don’t even follow the sport. And people sometimes make fun of you for stuffing your cheeks when you eat but I find it really adorable actually–”
“I…”
You waved your hands frantically, cutting him off. “Sorry, let me just…I need to get this all out now or it’ll never happen. Um, I really like your hair when you grow it out and sometimes when it falls into your eyes, I want to…like, sweep it back like they do in the movies. I nearly did once, but I chickened out at the last minute. And honestly, I didn’t mind the orange – I actually think I quite liked it, I still don’t know how you pulled it off. Oh, and that one time you wore that black t-shirt that shrunk in the wash, I literally couldn’t concentrate all day because I kept thinking about it. Your arms are…um, are…”
You trailed off, embarrassment burning in your cheeks. At some point in your panicked rambling, your eyes had slid away from Han and were now fixed on the floor in front of you. You had no idea what his expression was, and frankly, you weren’t sure you wanted to know.
But, before you lost your voice entirely and dissolved into a puddle of humiliation, you managed to mumble out one last confession. “So, uh, what I’m trying to say is…I lied when I said I didn’t like you. And I…I’m sorry I did. And…for hurting you, and stuff.”
Han was silent.
Seconds stretched out into minutes and into hours, and you tried to choke out a laugh. “Well, I’m…just gonna go throw myself into the ocean now.”
“You…” Han finally spoke, and your gaze darted up to meet his. He was staring up at you, wide-eyed and more than a little shaken. Understandable, considering the emotional bomb you had basically just thrown into his lap. “…You like me?”
You blinked, and couldn’t help but snort. “Wow, Han. Was that literally the only thing you took away from that? “
“There was something about my hair. And how I eat. And…Lee Jong-beom?”
“That…yeah, I think I got a little lost somewhere in the middle, but that was…uh, the gist of it.”
He bit his lip, and you had to fight to stop your eyes fixating on the way they dug into that plush, pink mouth. Wow, holy shit, Han was really pretty. “And this…this is real? This isn’t some weird prank again?”
You felt vaguely offended. “It was never a prank! It was…a distraction. But, yes, to answer your question. This is real.”
Han paused, before the corner of his lips pulled upwards into a smile. “Say it.”
“What?”
“Say it. You like me. Just that.”
You pouted. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I would never,” Han said, smirking.
Feeling a little put on the spot, you turned defensive. Taking a step forward into his personal space, standing right between his legs, you reached out to poke him in the chest. “Stop acting so smug, asshole. I know that you like me.”
“Do you?” Han asked, too playful to really scare you, but enough to put you slightly on edge.
But this was Han, and you’d had more than enough experience of standing your ground against him. “Yes.”
He didn’t speak for a moment, eyes silently challenging you, before eventually, he broke with a shrug. “Yeah, you’re right. I like you.”
Even with your prior assumptions, even with that nonchalant delivery, his confession was still more than enough to knock you for a loop.
He continued with a grin. “See, isn’t it nice to hear? You know I like you. I just want the same thing. That’s why you need to say it properly.”
That sly tone in his voice had always been enough to trigger your stubborn streak, and this occasion – however surreal – was no different. “If you hadn’t tried to avoid me all week, I could have told you sooner.”
“Put yourself in my shoes!” Han pointed out, pouting just a little at your words. “I tried to kiss a girl I liked, and she pulled away and yelled in my face that we were just friends.”
…OK, he had a bit of a point, but you still bristled. “In my defence, I didn’t know you were going to kiss me! If I did…”
Han’s pout disappeared. “Yeah? What would you have done, if you knew?”
You knew the question was just meant to tease you, rhetorical rather than actually demanding an answer, but it tripped you up. “Uh…I…”
At your stammering, Han grinned widely, mischief in his eyes. He reached up to where your hand was still poking into his chest, gripping the wrist gently. He gave you a second to notice, to adjust to the situation, before pulling you down.
You pitched forward, off-balance, and completely caught off-guard when his lips surged forward to meet yours.
Your eyes widened, your surprised ‘mmph!’ muffled against his mouth.
Han was kissing you. Han Jisung was kissing you.
That was your first thought.
Your second was the blissful relief of ‘oh, thank God, no more talking.’
You closed your eyes, relaxing into him despite the awkward angle of your body. The hand Han was still holding clenched into a fist against his chest, while your other snaked up to cradle his jaw. Han tilted his head, pressing firmer against you, hand tangling itself in your hair.
It was a nice kiss – really nice – but there was something lingering in your thoughts, like an itch you needed to scratch. Han had made the first move, and there was this undeniable need to…one-up him.
So before you could second-guess yourself, and before this position caused any lasting neck discomfort, you steadied yourself against his shoulders and lowered yourself onto the couch – not quite on his lap, but hovering above it, knees either side of him.
And, just for good measure, you nipped at his bottom lip.
Han yelped, pulling away to look up at you with those big brown eyes.
You took in his appearance, the flush of his skin, those kiss-swollen lips, and your breath caught in your throat. You couldn’t help but stroke his face, and mumbled. “Pretty.”
Han blushed, and spluttered. “Don’t just…say stuff like that out of the–”
You cut him off with another kiss. He didn’t seem to mind, letting go of your wrist to wrap his arms around your waist.
You were content to stay like that, until you felt him tug at you, gentle but a little too desperate to be polite. You obliged, lowering yourself onto his lap.
He gasped into your mouth, hands already roaming to your hips. His tongue brushed against your mouth, before he followed your example and biting down on your lip.
This was hot, undeniably hot. There was a tightness in your gut, a kind of burning that grew with every little sound Han made.
And Han was loud.
He groaned at the way your hand pulled at his hair, the way you broke away from his lips to mouth at his neck, every little move you were making.
It was no surprise, then, when you felt the stirrings of something pressing into your inner thigh – but you hesitated all the same.
Han broke away, eyes closing. His forehead dropped to rest against your shoulder. You could feel his ragged breath against your skin as he took deep breaths. “S-sorry. Give me a second, I can–”
You shifted your weight, pressing into him. He cut himself off with a squeak, stiffening against you in more ways than one.
“Or not, I-I’m definitely good with that too,” he babbled, breathless as he tentatively pushed his hips up into you and groaning at the friction his own movements created.
That tightness in your gut was growing, twisting and clenching. You choked on your own groan, hand twitching in his hair.
Out of nowhere, an idea popped into your head. You decided to act on it.
Lifting yourself up from Han’s lap – and ignoring the loud whine that left his lips the second you did – you grabbed hold of his shoulders again and turned him. He obliged, following your movements blindly. With a smirk, you pushed him down with just the right amount of force, watching the way his back hit the sofa cushion, the way his body was now stretched out under you. He stared up at you, eyes gleaming between his lashes, as he lay there.
You adjusted yourself, one knee planted either side of his hips, before settling back down onto him. Han groaned again, hands flying up to grab you by the waist.
Just once, just to see his reaction, you rolled your hips against him. Han did not disappoint, making you grin as his eyes closed and a hiss escaped between his teeth. You were amazed he had enough self-control not to buck his hips up into you, but you had a feeling it was a close call.
You realised that at some point, without you even noticing, this kissing had turned into a competition. But maybe that was to be expected. Sometimes, it felt like everything between you and Han ended up becoming a competition. It was just in your nature.
And you were definitely winning this one.
You leaned down, capturing his lips with yours once again. He kissed back just as hard, seemingly giving in to the same sense of rivalry. You closed your eyes, hands sliding down to his chest as his mouth left yours to trail kisses to your jaw, your earlobe, all the way down the column of your neck. Your breath caught when he stumbled across a sensitive spot at the juncture between your neck and shoulders, and an embarrassingly loud noise left your mouth when he nipped at it.
You didn’t have to look at him to know he was far too smug at the sound of it.
If you weren’t careful, he might start thinking he was winning.
Your hand slid down from its resting place on his chest, and found the bulge straining against his jeans at the apex of his thighs. As soon as your fingers made contact with it, Han tensed under you.
You paused, trying to gauge if he was uncomfortable or wanted you to stop, but that didn’t seem to be the case. It was more like he was…anticipating, his whole body taut like a piano wire as he held his breath and waited to see what you were going to do.
It made you feel…powerful.
Tentatively, you pressed down with your palm, watching the way Han’s eyes glazed over in pleasure. He was biting his lip, cheeks flushed pink, unable to look you in the eye, but you felt the way he twitched up into your hand.
You continued. You had no idea what kind of movements you should be making, how much pressure you should be putting on, how fast, but it seemed to be enough. His eyes closed again, his hand on your hip flexing, and after one particularly firm motion, he keened – a sound sharp and high and louder than anything that had left your own mouth, which you took as another victory.
“You’re…” he panted, struggling to form words. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”
You could have admitted the truth – that with a partner as vocal and responsive as Han, it was easy to figure out what he liked very quickly – but instead, you chose to take the credit. You leaned down and kissed the soft skin just under his earlobe, feeling him buck into your hand. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Before you could go any further, Han suddenly surged up with a newfound urgency, pushing you both back up into a seated position. One of his hands curled around the back of your head, pulling you closer into him as he planted a searing kiss to your lips, before joining his other at the buttons of your shirt, fumbling with them.
You could feel his fingers shaking.
“This fucking shirt,” he mumbled against your mouth, finally managing to get one button undone.
He scrambled for the second, and when it came undone far too easily, you could sense the self-assurance creeping back into his movements as he reached for the third.
So, just to tease him, you squeezed your hand around him again. His fingers juddered to a halt, and you heard his sharp intake of breath at the sudden sensation.
“Mean,” he managed to choke out, still trying to recover enough composure to continue unbuttoning.
“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreement.
Han abandoned his attempt to unbutton your shirt all the way. Instead, he hooked two fingers around your collar and pulled your shirt open enough to press his mouth against your chest.
You couldn’t help but melt into the warm sensation, sighing in contentment as he peppered kisses across your cleavage. You might as well be nice enough to let the guy enjoy the boobs he’d apparently been so infatuated–
Your thoughts were cut off as Han bit down into your flesh, not enough to break the skin but definitely hard enough to bruise. You yelped, as he sucked and sucked until the area throbbed with a dull pain – a pain that did strange things to your insides. His lips released with a lewd smacking sound, and you could see the mark already forming.
“Ow,” you complained, only half-sincere.
He flashed you a grin, and pressed the gentlest of chaste kisses on the hickey. “Oops.”
You pouted. “That was payback, wasn’t it?”
Han batted his eyelashes, the picture of innocence. Do you really think I would be that petty?”
You raised an eyebrow at him, and another squeeze had his bravado crumbling as he whined.
“Do you really want me to answer that question?” You asked, sweetly.
He barely seemed able to hear you. Instead, he brought his head back up to kiss you, hot and eager and just a little bit sloppy as he abandoned all shame and pitched his hips up into your hand, desperate for more friction.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Han promised between kisses, voice barely more than a groan.
You laughed, pulling back slightly to stare down at him. “Yeah? And how are you going to do that?”
Han tensed at your words, growing silent long enough that you began to worry you had gone too far, been too mean.
And then, in the blink of an eye, he flipped the two of you around, pushing you down into the sofa as he hovered overhead. You barely had time to draw breath before his lips were back on yours.
The new weight pressing into you, the sudden reversal of power, had a dizzying effect on you. It didn’t help that Han had gone right back to that sensitive spot on your neck, drawing a gasp out of you as his hands scrambled for the rest of your buttons. He finally finished off the last of them, opening up the shirt and leaving the top half of your body almost completely exposed.
You assumed he’d go straight for the bra next, do the usual guy thing of grabbing a handful or two.
Instead, he surprised you by travelling lower, trailing over your jeans. You couldn’t help but whine when he reached a particular spot, and pressed his knuckle against the denim.
The feeling was like electricity, concentrated in that one area before it spread throughout the rest of your body – like a wave, or a pulse. It was certainly enough to excite you, but it also sparked a tiny voice in the back of your head.
This was getting serious.
This was getting a little out of hand.
Han pressed again, and the voice was temporarily silenced as you arched your back into him. He did it again, and again, and you couldn’t tell if he was building up some kind of rhythm or just experimenting with your reactions but it was enough to make you clasp a hand over your own mouth and bite down on your whimpers.
You could feel the grin on his face as he gently pressed a kiss to your neck, using one hand to pull your own away from your mouth, and the other to unbutton your jeans in one deft motion.
That tiny pause in action – in sensation – was enough to bring the voice back, and you tensed when you felt his hands on your zipper. “Wait.”
He paused, lifting his head up to look at you. His gaze was still hazy with lust, but undeniably filled with concern.
Your mouth went dry.
“W-we can’t fuck on my couch.”
Han’s eyes darkened the instant the word ‘fuck’ fell out of your mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. Still, he seemed to grasp what you were saying, hand dropping from your jean zipper to rest on your thigh. “I mean, I’m sure if we put our minds to it, we could figure out a way–”
That smart-mouthed response, so typically Han and so familiar, was enough to relax you, just a little. You managed to roll your eyes, and rephrased. “We won’t be fucking on my couch.”
“Ahh,” Han said, drawing out the word like he’d just reached some grand epiphany. “Now, I get it.”
You rolled your eyes again, ignoring the pulses of something still throbbing in your veins as you tried to sit up. Receiving the memo loud and clear, Han shifted over to give you space.
Shirt still unbuttoned, Han’s eyes still fixed on you, the unmistakable physical evidence of his interest still very visible out of the corner of your eye, you stretched your arms out overhead. You could hear the tendons and joints popping, flooding you with a sense of relief. It was strange to think this kind of physical activity could be so taxing on the body.
“Honestly,” you sighed. “There shouldn’t be any fucking at all today.”
“What?” Han blurted out, unable to hide the whine in his voice. “But…wait, did I…”
You glanced over at him, catching the way he was trying to hide his growing panic. You realised with a sudden pang of guilt that he thought he had done something wrong.
You immediately tried to quash these worries by giving him one chaste peck on the lips. He chased after you for a second, and you indulged him before pulling away.
His face – always so open, so easy to read – gave away the unspoken concern still lingering. You took his hand, squeezing it in reassurance, before fixing him with a neutral look.
“I’m assuming you didn’t bring any protection with you,” you stated, gently but firmly.
Han’s eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like fish as this uncomfortable truth hit him. “Uh, well…not exactly, no.”
You tilted your head. “From what I hear, that’s a pretty important prerequisite. One might say essential.”
“I can get some,” Han pointed out, trying and failing to hide his eagerness. “There’s a store, like, five minutes away. I’ll be quick!”
Don’t make the obvious joke. Don’t make the obvious joke.
You squeezed his hand again. That pent-up tension in your body, the anticipation, the excitement, was starting to leak out in the form of nervous energy. You felt all keyed up, too alert, too sensitive.
You leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek, fighting hard to stay calm and composed and not betray the fact that you were this close to jumping him anyway. “And we haven’t had a date yet. And I want to date you. Dating is the deal-breaker here.”
“Of course I’m going to date you,” Han whined. “So much. I’m going to date you so hard. Today could be a date! We could go rent a movie, buy food and…and other items. Problem solved!”
You put on a scowl, faux-outraged. “Jisung, if you think I’m going to put out on the first date, you are sorely mistaken.”
To your surprise, Han’s face suddenly flushed a dark pink. You were confused for a moment. What the hell had you missed in this conversation that had somehow made Han blush harder than he had when your hand had literally been on his dick?
“You said my name,” he mumbled quietly, half in awe.
You blinked.
Huh.
“Oh, I…yeah, I guess I did. Is that…weird?” You asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“No! No, it’s not weird. I just…you never call me ‘Jisung’,” Han pointed out. “It’s nice to hear.”
You couldn’t help but smile.
Then, his brow furrowed. “Actually, wait, why do you never call me that?”
“…I changed my mind. No mushy talk, let’s go back to the sex–”
“Oh, so it’s mushy talk, is it?” Han asked. He was sharper than he let on.
You swallowed, glancing away. “…I don’t know. I just got…weirdly nervous to call you by your first name. So, I…didn’t.”
Han’s face broke out into the widest smile you’d ever seen. “Because you like me.”
The way he said it, drawing out the words, the sing-song tone of his voice, made you scowl.
But it couldn’t make you lie. “…Shut up.”
“You know, you still haven’t said it.”
You blinked. “Well…yeah, but we just…I figured it was pretty easy to read between the lines after…that.”
“But you haven’t said it,” Han teased, starting to pout.
“I said I wanted to date you! If anything, that’s…that’s more serious!” You tried to argue.
The pout only deepened.
You tried to hold out under that puppy-dog stare, but Han had apparently learned how to weaponise those big brown eyes against you in just the right way. You felt your cheeks warm, and nervously glanced down.
“I…I like you,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I said ‘fuck you’! You’re not getting pizza now,” you threatened, crossing your arms again.
Han made some kind of unidentifiable noise. When you looked up at him, he was staring at your chest, and the way your arms had pushed your breasts up and together, the mark he had made just peeking out of your cleavage.
You couldn’t help but laugh, dropping your arms. “Oh my God. Rein it in for, like, two seconds.”
“You can’t make me,” Han said, still staring. “Do you know how long I’ve had to hide looking at those? Let me enjoy this.”
The blunt honesty of his words made you flush even deeper. You smacked his arm, trying to hide your pleased smile. “Enjoying this doesn’t get pizza any closer to my mouth. Come on, you promised me a date.”
Finally, Han managed to tear his eyes away to smile up at you. It was a soft, sweet, utterly Jisung smile.
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
April 6th, 1997
Once again, the time had come.
“Sorry to break it to you all,” Jisung sighed, making a show out of cracking his knuckles. “But we already know how this is going to go.”
“Jeongin’s going to win again?” You asked, raising your eyebrows.
Jeongin laughed from his place on the sofa. “Yeah, cool it, ajusshi.”
“I am five months older than you, brat!” Jisung complained, making a half-hearted swipe at him.
Changbin intervened before their squabbling could really take hold, shoving Seungmin’s cap in Jisung’s face. “Just pick a name, you can trash-talk later.”
Still grumbling, Jisung fished around the paper slips, drawing one out. He looked down at the name, blinked, and then slowly looked up at you with a look of pure delight.
You stared back at him in disbelief. “…No.”
He turned the paper around, letting you see your name scrawled there, clear as day. “Well, would you look at that?”
“Oh, what the fuck?” You complained, already resigned. “I call bullshit!”
Yet again, you and Jisung found yourselves in the first match of the tournament. You scowled the whole way through the character selection, the track selection and the loading screen. Jisung sat next to you, grinning away.
At the other side of the room, Felix leaned over to whisper to Seungmin. “Do we already need a buffer?”
Seungmin shrugged. “Probably.”
You were not ashamed to say that your match with Jisung was atrociously dirty. From the very beginning, you were messing with each other’s controllers, moving your head to block the view of the other person, digging elbows into ribs. On the very last track, Jisung managed to get a hand free to tickle you into submission, leaving you gasping for air and throwing weak punches between pained laughter. Chan hovered at the edge of the fray, ready to step in before this escalated even further.
You both managed to finish with your limbs intact, an achievement in and of itself.
“Huh, would you look at that?” Jisung hummed, as the final rankings were displayed onscreen. “I won.”
You spluttered. “You do not get to say you ‘won’ when you placed seventh out of eight!”
“And who came in eighth?”
You scowled. “I don’t like you anymore. I’m gonna go find a new best friend.”
Even from the other side of the room, you could hear Seungmin scoff.
Jisung turned to pout at you, eyes wide. “Mean.”
You rolled your eyes, anger fading. Those fucking eyes, they really were a weapon.
Before Jisung could whine any more, you leaned over to plant a kiss on that pout. “Asshole.”
The room fell silent, seven pairs of eyes suddenly fixed on the two of you.
Oh. Right.
“Did you just…?” Hyunjin trailed off, eyes bulging out of his head.
“Holy shit,” Minho seconded. You couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or impressed. Both?
“Did that just happen? You guys all saw that, right?” Felix asked, borderline hysterical.
You and Jisung exchanged a look. Whoops.
Seungmin got up, sighing as he reached for the snack bowl on the table. “Wow, you guys. Calm down. They’re just kissing.”
“Just kissing–”
“Yeah,” you interrupted, keeping your voice as neutral and disinterested as you could. “What, a girl can’t even kiss her boyfriend anymore without judgement? I’m so disappointed in all of you. I thought we were friends.”
“BOYFRIEND?”
Amidst the chaotic fallout of this sudden announcement that you had dropped on the group, you felt a hand reach over and squeeze yours.
You turned to see Jisung staring at you, his brown eyes so warm you could melt. He mouthed the word ‘boyfriend?’
You nodded, returning his squeeze with one of your own.
Jisung beamed, before turning to face the rest of the group and held up his controller. “Alright, calm down, assholes. Who’s ready to get their ass kicked next?”