Chapter Text
“Swimming is a confusing sport, because sometimes you do it for fun, and other times you do it not to die. And when I’m swimming, sometimes I’m not sure which is which.”
— Demetri Martin
HYUNJIN
Under the water, it’s quiet.
Hyunjin’s speciality is freestyle and butterfly. Ever since his coach told his mother that ‘butterfly’ is the most taxing, most difficult and most challenging swimming technique there is to master, it’s been her favourite. She says it looks ‘graceful’, yet Hyunjin feels everything but, as he lets his thoughts go blank, alternating between kicking against the water, moving his body in calculated curves that cut through it, and taking in quick, necessary breaths above it.
His mother calls him graceful. His father wants him to qualify for the Olympics before he’s twenty three.
Hyunjin pulls himself up and out of the pool and sits on the edge to take off his goggles and cap while his coach reads him the time. Hyunjin doesn’t hear the time but he knows it’s not good enough. His coach proceeds to tell him that. He tells him to spend more time running to build up more stamina, to get up earlier to work out. But all Hyunjin can focus on at the moment is the blue haired boy sitting on the bleachers, munching on what looks to be the contents of a bag of M&Ms while scrolling down his phone, airpods on.
“Are you listening?”
“Yes, coach,” Hyunjin says, standing up to walk over to his towel and dry his face.
August heat is still clinging to the beginnings of September, the Californian sun heating every surface not shaded from it. It’s a dry heat, which is far preferable to the humid summers Hyunjin has experienced in his visits to South Korea. Still, Fall should be piling leaves on the sidewalks, not sporting an eighty five degrees fahrenheit.
By the time Hyunjin throws the towel over his shoulder, it feels like the sun has already dried most of the droplets. He’s tired, and he wonders if he can blame that on the sun, too, or on the long night spent catching up on assignments. The day is nearly done. But, even so, Hyunjin hopes he finds energy elsewhere. That is, until he can get home and see his dog; that always helps.
Yeji will be waiting for him, so he only gives the blue haired boy another offhanded glance before heading for the showers to wash the chlorine off his hair and use a lotion rich with Aloe Vera, Vitamin E and Pro Vitamin B5 on nearly every conceivable inch of his body. He even smacks the side of his head as if that will get rid of any water stuck there, a neurotic superstition he picked up at the ripe age of thirteen.
Hyunjin squints as he walks outside once again, the sun being quite unforgiving in its radiance. There’s no breeze, barely any shade, so Hyunjin just keeps his head down as he makes his way to class. It’s on the other side of campus, so Hyunjin fetches his airpods from his Toothless case and turns on Spotify on his phone. He opens his ‘Liked Songs’ and scrolls until something catches his eye.
Let Me Down Slowly by Alec Benjamin seems like an odd song to listen to in broad daylight while at school, but it makes everything look like an indie movie. The thought makes Hyunjin smile softly to himself. To be in an indie movie… Wouldn’t that be nice?
The grass amphitheatre is looking quite peaceful without all the freshmen that hang out there. School tends to have a very different atmosphere once classes are done for the day. Still, there’s a certain energy that lingers. Nothing compared to summer time, when the buildings looked like shells full of ghosts and all Hyunjin knew was the pool and the pool house.
Runaway by AURORA begins, then. Hyunjin thinks it might be his favourite song at the moment. Something about it makes him think of tall, snowy mountains and fairies and magic. A place so very far away from this hot, brown campus.
The quad is rather empty, too. Nothing like the bustling area it tends to be every other break. It’s five in the afternoon, which means most people have gone home unless they stayed behind to work on something, or have extra-curricular activities.
For a moment, Hyunjin considers letting Yeji wait for a few minutes longer so he can stretch this walk through into another song or two. Just the thought makes him feel a little guilty, though, so he puts his airpods away— keep them safe for me, Toothless —as he approaches his beautiful, talented, wonderful, vibrantly red-headed girlfriend. If only I loved her.
Yeji is already standing up from where she was sitting by the Academic Center, massive white checkered Louis Vuitton hanging off her arm. She smiles brightly at Hyunjin, the diamond on the necklace he gave her for her birthday shining brightly in the sunlight. “There you are,” she chirps, walking closer and immediately linking her arm with Hyunjin’s. “How was practice?”
“Wet, as always,” Hyunjin jokes, kissing her forehead. “You look nice.”
“Thank you,” Yeji smiles, looking Hyunjin up and down as if to check him out. They don’t have any classes together this year. It begs to wonder if that will hinder their relationship. Hopefully not. “Can you believe Mr. Jameson, our dearly beloved Headmaster and History teacher, already gave us a whole paper to write?”
“Same with Mrs. Lane,” Hyunjin sighs. He takes a small step into a walk Yeji steps into, as well, to walk to his car. Even if they don’t have classes together, hopefully they can still do little things like this. “Here I thought I’d have a few more days of freedom. Coach is already thinking up plans for me that include getting up at four in the morning…”
Yeji glances over and pouts. “I feel like we see less and less of each other… We used to come to school together, remember? Lasted little more than a month. And that’s because I decided to wake up early to come with you when you had practice at seven.”
“And I decided to save you from having to endure that boredom,” Hyunjin jokes. “Honestly, there’s nothing interesting about watching a man thrash about in the water.”
“You do it quite beautifully, though,” Yeji says, pushing slightly against Hyunjin to make him steer slightly to the side. Despite her pout, her eyes look mischievous. Sometimes, she looks like the Gemini zodiac sign itself.
“If only they gave points for beauty~” Hyunjin teases, pushing back slightly before putting a hand around her waist when she giggles in a small stumble. “I wonder if my father and Mr. Jameson are talking, considering my father has already talked about Stanford at dinner like it’s a sure thing. He sounds like a weatherman sometimes, honestly. Oh, Stanford will be approaching soon. High chances of acceptance. ”
Yeji giggles and then shakes her head. “I went to see Mr. Jameson today, during lunch. He gave me this pamphlet,” she leans away from Hyunjin to go through her bag and then pulls out an advertisement for the University of California-Berkeley. “All because he saw I wanted to try for Southern Cali as a second option. He says it might be better for me.”
“It’s not… that far away,” Hyunjin mumbles, taking the pamphlet.
“I kind of wanted to… move out of the house…? Try that proper uni student life…?”
Hyunjin ignores the small pang of fear at the corners of his chest, before smiling something teasing and wry. “Oh, you’d be unstoppable.”
“My mother was concerned when I talked to her on the phone earlier,” Yeji admits, “‘Cause she heard UC Berkeley’s dorms are expensive. But it should be fine. If I ask dad, I’m sure he won’t oppose. It’s an experience, and I’m sure he won’t complain beyond just wanting to keep an eye on his little girl.”
“Meanwhile my parents can’t wait to get me out of the house,” Hyunjin teases, squeezing softly at her. “You know I’ll support literally anything you wanna do, right?”
Yeji smiles up at him. “Yes, I know. And hey,” she gives a small jump and lands a kiss on Hyunjin’s cheek, “Same here.”
They walk past the entrance and make their way to the student parking lot. Hyunjin’s car is a Genesis G70, the 2019 model which he got when he turned 16. He has a proper license now, and the car still doesn’t have a single scratch on it, which he’s rather proud of. He needs to take this car all the way to Stanford, apparently, so it’s best if it looks the part. And yes, Hyunjin is incredibly aware of how privileged he sounds at the moment, but alas, his girlfriend has a Louis Vuitton bag and his parents work in Silicon Valley. It is what it is.
Yeji gets into the passenger’s seat and her hair shifts softly with the breeze that suddenly blows, leaving behind a trail of red that Hyunjin’s eyes linger on. She closes the door, and the sound brings Hyunjin back. As he blinks, he finds himself looking at the blue haired boy from before.
He knows who that is. He’s not sure why he keeps calling Jisung Han ‘a blue haired boy’, but it does well to distract him from everything else surrounding the situation. Perhaps, if Hyunjin was someone else with a different life and different parents, he’d ask his neighbour if he needed a lift home. As it is, Jisung has a bike, and Hyunjin has a car, and they don’t concern themselves with one another anyway.
Hyunjin gets in with a sigh and then starts the car. Yeji is already busy checking out her makeup. Not that much needs retouching, except for her bright red lips. So, Hyunjin wastes no time getting them out of here.
“Wanna listen to Billie?” he asks once they turn onto the road, Hyunjin behind the wheel and the school in the rearview mirror. He knows Yeji loves Billie Eilish, and it’s always nice to see her smile, even if Hyunjin considers it bare minimum to play his girlfriend music she likes.
“Hell yeah!”
It’s too hot to take Kkami for a walk anywhere that isn’t grassy and shaded, so Hyunjin allows himself some time in the garden with him to play. This dog really might be Hyunjin’s favourite thing on Earth, currently. More than ice cream or art, Hyunjin loves Kkami, because Kkami loves him unconditionally. When Hyunjin gets home, Kkami will run and yap at him until he’s given attention, and he doesn’t care about Hyunjin’s grades or how athletic or talented or handsome he is; he just wants scratches and food. I can do scratches and food.
Once the air cools as the sun starts to sink under the horizon, Hyunjin gives in to take his evening run. He doesn’t mind runs; he’s left to his own devices and music, and if he’s tired, he rests, because he knows his own limits and pushes himself to them quite often, without needing to be told or scolded at any perceived slacking.
Hyunjin returns home sweaty and tired, but his parents are still at work. He decides on a quick shower instead of a bath. He spent too much time playing with Kkami, so he doesn’t get to enjoy a bath tonight if he wants to finish his homework. So, a shower it is.
Their garden is big, green, and well-taken care of by a well-paid gardener. Hyunjin’s mother used to do it herself, but work started taking more and more of her time as time went by, so she outsourced. She even outsourced Hyunjin’s dinner tonight, having stocked the fridge with enough food for Hyunjin to make whatever he wants. He decides on a salad and some chicken, taking it outside to sit with Kkami, who is enjoying his tiny dog hammock. I can’t believe I actually bought you a dog hammock , Hyunjin laughs to himself, placing his food next to his homework.
“Get out of the pool, Mister,” one of the neighbors exclaims, then. “You’re grilling the meat.”
Hyunjin doesn’t hear the reply, but he hears the sounds of clutter being brought outside from the kitchen. The neighbor’s house, where the Hans live, is much smaller than the Hwang’s house, yet their backyard is about the same length, only more rectangular and less square-y. They don’t really have a garden, just a lawn, a small pool Jisung has owned since he was ten, a big wooden table with wooden benches to match, and a grill. A grill that they actually use , together, as a family, unlike the Hwangs...
Years ago, right after Hyunjin and his family moved in, when Hyunjin was about six years old, he found a friend in the boy next door. They were both much rounder, then. And they had less things to worry about at the time, compared to now. They were friends for an entire summer holiday. Until Hyunjin, in his own innocence and child-naivety, slipped up and told his parents that Jisung Han has two moms. Hyunjin’s father immediately forbade him to play with Jisung, and Hyunjin obeyed, even though that, for a few days, it made Jisung sad to be ignored. Hyunjin was sad to ignore him, too, but never had the heart to tell Jisung why. He didn’t want the poor boy to feel bad about anything, but he probably still hurt him in some other way...
Wouldn’t it have been nice to be best friends with his neighbour? It would fit wonderfully into this indie movie Hyunjin constantly wishes he were a part of.
Hyunjin clears his throat softly and stuffs his mouth with lettuce, tomato and chicken. Yum...
“Jisung, you made the pool turn blue,” one of the moms complains, her voice much more high-pitched than her wife’s.
It’s probably the hair, Hyunjin thinks, trying to glue his eyes to his textbook but to no avail.
“Did you kill a smurf in here?” the other mom laughs. Hyunjin sometimes hears her talk in Spanish. He remembers her being kind to him as a child. Then again, both of them were.
“I think a mosquito bit me,” Jisung says, then. Hyunjin sometimes forgets what he sounds like. Right now, his voice sounds much deeper than it did last time. “Ma, pass me the—No, the other one—Thanks.”
“Oh, do you want the lotion? I’ll go fetch it.”
“Sure. Is this pork?”
“You asked for pork, honey. I listen to you.”
“Thank you~”
Hyunjin licks his lips and considers going upstairs to concentrate properly, but… But he’s curious. And, admittedly, it’s nice having people so close, especially with an empty house standing right behind him.
Truth be told, the Hans aren’t that noisy. Sure, they laugh out loud, and sometimes raise their voices a little bit, but nothing Hyunjin wouldn’t do if he was having fun. Besides, Hyunjin doesn’t know much about Jisung’s grilling skills, but he has to admit that it smells quite good, whatever it is he’s making with his moms. Even Kkami lifts his tiny head at some point, and turns his little snout towards the wind to sniff for the source.
“Shh,” Hyunjin warns playfully in a whisper, which just makes Kkami bark. “It’s not for you, dummy.”
“We’ve disturbed the floff,” Jisung comments on the other side of the big fence.
“What do you think would happen if we tossed a rib over the fence?” one of the moms jokes, and Hyunjin frowns in amusement. They don’t know I’m here, do they? Still, Kkami barks again, like hearing ‘rib’ was enough to get him excited. Aish...
“I don’t think the neighbors would be too happy if they found a random bone in their garden,” the other mom says. “Besides, it’s not nice to feed other people’s animals. We don’t know if they’re on a special diet, et cetera.”
“Still. It’s cute to think about,” the other mom hums, and Hyunjin reaches forward to scratch at Kkami’s head. Shhh, baby … “I hope that dog isn’t lonely,” the mom ends up saying with a sigh.
At that, Hyunjin pouts. Are you..? He asks in his head, and Kkami blinks at him with those big, googly, beautiful eyes, like he knows.
“The parents are never home anymore… I usually hear their car pull up closer to eight.”
“You two are so nosy,” Jisung scoffs, and Hyunjin smiles. It’s fine. People gossip all the time. “Besides, the dog isn’t really theirs. It’s Hyunjin’s. I remember this thing he wrote in seventh grade, about his new baby dog. He read that to the entire class with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Seriously, I’m sure he takes good care of the floff.”
Hyunjin frowns in amusement, chewing on a mouthful of salad. You remember that..? People made so much fun of me for that…
“It’s always very clean and happy when I see it,” one of the moms hums. “Have you seen the tiny dog hammock they have outside? It’s adorable. I want a hammock.”
“Whaaat?” Jisung goes. “They got their dog a hammock?”
“Yes. It’s adorable. I think it’s meant for cats.”
Hyunjin really didn’t expect for Jisung to peek into his backyard not even a minute later. But when he glances up, he sees the exact time when Jisung’s blue wet hair comes into view, followed by clouds of smudged eyeliner around big brown eyes. Hyunjin always thought it was kind of cool that Jisung wore eyeliner, but he never told anyone. Now, Hyunjin just raises a hand in a small wave.
Jisung blinks when he locks eyes with Hyunjin, and then slowly lowers himself until he’s out of view. Once he’s gone, he lifts a hand above the tall fence and waves it around, like he remembered last minute that not waving back was rude. It makes Hyunjin smile, and then immediately pack his things away and take Kkami with him upstairs to his bedroom.
No more of that, thank you.
The bell rings and Hyunjin closes his locker. His hair is still slightly damp from this morning’s practice, and now that he had breakfast, his brain is starting to send him to sleep even though he has to go to English class right now. He glances aside and spots Jisung, closing his locker as well. Jisung seems to feel Hyunjin’s eyes on him, but only looks over for a second, before letting his friend, Changbin, drag him away.
Changbin is nice, but he’s part of that group of people Hyunjin’s group of people never coincide with. So, while Hyunjin wouldn’t mind seeing more of him—and Chan, Jisung’s other friend—it won’t happen naturally, so Hyunjin doesn’t seek it out. Instead, he goes to class. It’s as uneventful as it is to be expected, but Hyunjin still tries his best to pay attention and take notes.
He shares a few classes with Jisung, but Hyunjin always sits towards the front, while Jisung and his group always sit at the back. During lunch break, Hyunjin spends his time with his group of friends, although he mostly just talks to Minho, and then it’s back to class until the bell rings again and Hyunjin has to rush to his swimming practice.
By the time he’s walking out into the pool area, racing briefs and pool cap on, there’s already the usual tuft of blue on the bleachers. Hyunjin has never questioned it, but now he’s starting to. Not actively or outwardly, but it’s a curious little thing he’s thinking about now. He always just assumed Jisung passed through here on his way somewhere else, or just liked the spot because it’s usually quiet, if not for the sounds of splashing water and an annoying coach. Perhaps he’s just a fan of swimming. However, sometimes he’s here even when it’s just Hyunjin. Especially when it’s just Hyunjin.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway .
And apparently, today, the time is quite good. Hyunjin might even make it onto the All American list of top 100 swimmers, if he keeps this up. That’s good, right? Great, actually. And yet, Hyunjin feels like he has to force the smile on his face, force some sense of excitement into his chest. He thinks about it making his parents proud, and that seems to work, for the moment.
“Keep this up,” his coach says, then. “Work hard. Don’t slack off, or everything you’ve done so far will be for nothing.”
And then it’s just… fear.
It bubbles inside Hyunjin’s chest, and then spreads the way the foam of the ocean does after a wave crashes onto the sand. It’s a soft kind of fear, the sort that permeates everything else in a way that is difficult to pin-point. It’s not the paralyzing sort of fear, it’s the other kind, the kind that makes Hyunjin so scared he’s just irritable.
Because wouldn’t that just be a fucking waste..? So why let it? Suddenly, all he cares about is getting that All American title, about being at least good at something . Being in the top 100 of anything is good, right? It has to be.
On the way back inside, Hyunjin notices Jisung, still on the bleachers. He’s got company now, it seems; Changbin. And both of them are watching Hyunjin. That is, until Hyunjin’s eyes meet theirs and they immediately look away and down to their phones.
Part of Hyunjin wants to stomp over and demand Jisung explain why he spends so much time here, but the answer scares him, and the idea of being seen as an asshole scares him more. So, he just looks away, and pretends they’re not there.
As usual, Yeji is waiting for Hyunjin near the Library. She’s wearing a summer dress today, and she looks exponentially adorable when she smiles upon seeing Hyunjin. She practically jumps to her feet, bright orange summer dress bouncing with her. It’s so flowy...
Suddenly, Hyunjin isn’t as irritable anymore as just feeling like he has something to prove. So, naturally, he makes sure to kiss her in a way people will notice. That seems to catch her off-guard, but in the best of ways, which makes it easier. Yeji makes a lot of things easier, by just being… Yeji.
“Now me,” Minho says as Hyunjin leans back to grin at Yeji, giving Minho the middle-finger without even looking at him.
Yeji looks mildly scandalised, holding onto Hyunjin’s arm. “How long have you been here?!”
“I was on my way out when I spotted your road cone dress,” Minho explains, glancing aside and narrowing his eyes as he follows some other people’s path. Hyunjin only glances over once they’re in range for him to look through the corner of his eyes, and sees Jisung and Changbin walking towards the entrance. “Do you guys wanna get some ice cream?” Minho asks, then, looking back at Yeji and Hyunjin.
“Sure,” Hyunjin says, Yeji already reaching for her phone to (most likely) invite her best friend, Ryujin, to join them. “I broke my record today, just by the way. So count it as a celebration.”
“Oh, congrats,” Minho enthuses, despite how dead he looks in the eye.
“Nicely done, babe!” Yeji chirps, jumping slightly to kiss Hyunjin’s cheek. That’s enough, right? It feels like it should be. “Come on, let’s go. Ryujin will meet us there.”
It’s always nice to spend time with friends, something Hyunjin would definitely do more often if he had the time. He truly likes his friends, even if sometimes he wishes Ryujin would look at him less like she knows things, and Minho would stop finding the ‘HenryMGunnTeaPage’ on Instagram so damn ‘interesting’. Fucking Fire Signs.
Still, it’s easy to feel refreshed while on the way home after having spent some time with these people. Hyunjin drives around Palo Alto for a while, alone in his car, with music for company. He tries to relax, but even though he knows the tension in his shoulders is slowly easing, he’s still worrying about everything he needs to do, about the time he’s ‘wasting’ on something that isn’t exercise or homework or art, about this very moment, the one he’s living in.
Much closer to his street, he spots Jisung once again. With that hair and constant relative proximity, it seems impossible to miss him. He’s outside with his skateboard, something Hyunjin didn’t register mentally was something that Jisung did. Has he always done skateboarding or is that new? Judging by the flip he lands within the next second, it might be a rather old hobby, already.
Hyunjin has to slow down as he approaches, although Jisung stops once he hears the car close enough. They sort of… stare at each other for a moment that feels completely free of brain cells, until Hyunjin realises what they’re doing and randomly presses at his car horn. It’s a loud, uncalled for ‘ honk’ and it makes Jisung jump a little where he stands. He immediately frowns at Hyunjin and flicks him the bird, before stomping on his skateboard to make it flip up, grabbing it and then walking towards his house.
Why does that make Hyunjin laugh? No reason, probably, besides it being admittedly quite funny.
Again, nobody but Kkami is at home, and so Hyunjin’s evening routine begins again. Work out, bathe, eat, homework, sleep. And tomorrow, at 4am, it starts again.
It’s exhausting…
Hyunjin remembers a weekend not too long ago, somewhere during summer break, when Yeji went away with her parents to Santa Cruz, and Hyunjin was left to his own devices, free of responsibility. He practically locked himself in the small art studio his parents allowed for him, in a room next to the garage that looks out on the garden. For what felt like minutes but turned out to be hours, Hyunjin painted, and sketched, and sang to himself whatever song came up next on the speaker hooked up to his phone’s Spotify. He took small breaks to play with Kkami and eat and go for a walk. He was busy, in a way that he found enriching, and that energised him, rather than drained him. He wishes he could do that, more. But it sounds as impossible as it is.
Right? Right.
JISUNG
The bass fills the room, jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo playing at nearly max volume at a half past seven in the morning. Jisung is staring at his reflection in the long mirror in his bedroom, eye-pencil in hand, left eye completely adorned in black, right eye in the process of being painted alike.
He just finished getting dressed and he’s already sweating a little in his black, baggy-ass t-shirt. Maybe it’s the sweatpants, so, once Jisung is done with his makeup, he changes into jeans.
The thing about skinny jeans and heat is that they’re literally enemies, so Jisung immediately opts out of that, as well. In the end, he finds a pair of black cargo shorts and puts those on. His hair is still fluffy from last night’s quick shower, so he just combs through it with his fingers, making sure it falls perfectly over his eyebrows, before grabbing a pair of shoes and making his way to the kitchen.
Ma works as a real estate agent, and Mom works in the global marketing department at Facebook. Yes, Mom, Mrs. Zoe Han, is part of The Problem, like Jisung never fails to tell her whenever the conversation flows that way. Having jobs that require them to be so participative, though, means they’re usually up early, so they can at least have breakfast with Jisung. Ma, Mrs. María Elena Torres Han, is around most of the time, considering she can work from home quite often, but Mom sometimes doesn’t come home until after dinner hours, so breakfast is their ‘family time’.
“You forgot to turn off the noise,” Ma tells Jisung as she places his plate with toast, eggs and bacon on the counter for him to take.
“It’s not noise,” Jisung mumbles, taking his plate and walking to the dining room with it. He drops his shoes by his chair and drags it to sit down with his food. “It’s music,” he throws back over his shoulder.
“You forgot to turn off the noise music.”
“Now, that’s just offensive,” Jisung scoffs, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pausing Spotify. It was blasting t r a n s p a r e n t s o u l by WILLOW and Travis Barker in the bedroom.
“I think it’s good that you’re expressing yourself, honey,” Mom says, and Jisung gives her a glance as he picks up the fork to stab the bacon slice and shove it whole into his mouth. He turns on his side, then, to start putting on his sneakers while he munches, when his mother asks, “By the way, how’s school lately? Have you been keeping up with your homework?”
Jisung knows she’s asking because she knows he hasn’t been doing his homework at all. Most of the time, he finishes it right before class, or just copies whatever Chan did. “It’s been fine…” he says, and it isn’t a lie. “By the way, can I go to the city next weekend?”
“What for, mi hijo ?” Ma asks, sitting down at the table with her and mom’s plate of food.
Jisung shrugs, pout jutting out as he finishes tying his sneakers. “Chan needs to go, Changbin and I thought we’d tag along for our own enjoyment.”
“Yeah, you can go,” Mom says after a small nod from Ma, smiling at him. “Just keep us updated. We like making sure you’re still alive, after all.”
“I’ll explode in a fireball of blue if I’m about to die, don’t worry. You’ll get the forewarning,” Jisung jokes, turning to his food to shove some eggs into his mouth. He catches a glimpse of one of his many tattoos, the blue and purple melding in pink and screaming bisexuality making him smile at the thought that, no, Jisung isn’t really bisexual, even if he might look it. Gays come in packs and mine has three.
“That’s not as comforting as I think you meant it to be,” Ma laughs, reaching over to pat at the top of his hair.
“Hm?” Jisung questions, looking at her, the subject already forgotten.
“You should bring your friends over more,” Mom suggests out of nowhere. “Or… anyone else you might be interested in. We won’t bite.”
“I know you won’t,” Jisung says. “That’s precisely the point, though.”
“ Qué? You want us to bite them?” Ma laughs.
Jisung sighs. “You’re both so unbearably nice… How dare you not provide me with angst?”
“Are we making it difficult for you to be a rebellious teenager, honey?”
Jisung jokingly slams his fists on the table. “Yes! Where are my struggles?!” Jisung points at the both of them with his fork. “Last night, I told you I might not want to go to college and you both nodded like you already knew. Then I told you I wanted to try taking a whole gap year, perhaps, that maybe that would change my mind, and you both agreed with me without thinking about it!”
Mom sighs jokingly, as well. “I knew it all went wrong when you came out to us and we were accepting and supportive about it… Should have kicked you out of the house immediately.”
“That’s what I’m saying, might as well start biting my friends,” Jisung scoffs, shaking his head. “Maybe then I’ll have something to complain about. You have no idea how it is nowadays. High school is just Pain Olympics.”
“I really don’t think we can legally go around biting teenagers,” Mom laughs. She looks at Ma and they smile, like the lovestruck fools they always have been. “Fine, no—” she looks at Jisung and narrows her eyes. “No girls in your room.”
Jisung blinks very slowly. “Mom, I’m gay.”
They both gasp. “You are?!”
Jisung rolls his eyes. “Oh, I loathe you,” he lies.
“Get out of this house!” Ma laughs. And then starts ranting in rapid fire Spanish.
“And don’t forget to take your lunch with you, gay boy!” Mom chimes in-between swear words in sentences Jisung understands but can make no sense of.
“Nobody understands me,” Jisung jokes. “I’m gonna start graffiting dicks on cars,” he adds, piling the eggs and bacon on his toast and then folding it in half to shove the entire thing into his mouth, cheeks puffing to store all the food that he will most likely still be nibbling on while on the way to school.
“You should probably get yourself a boyfriend to help you with your art,” Mom nods once Ma ‘calms down’.
Jisung stares at his mother and then gestures vaguely at her. Like, see this shit? He stands up, then, and takes his plate to the kitchen. On his way to the garage, he picks up his backpack which was left forgotten by the door, and notices Mom give Ma a kiss on the forehead before following after their son.
“You’re adopted,” Mom tells Jisung in deadpan as she picks up her wallet and keys.
Jising would have replied, but his mouth is full. I know, Zoe, I know!
HYUNJIN
Hyunjin oversleeps, and in his rush to get to practise, forgets to take his anxiety medication. He’s been on them since he was twelve, and it was only because his panic attacks were unavoidable. If they were avoidable, or mild, or in any way ‘manageable’, his parents would never have taken him in. His father called it ‘embarrassing’ once, so they kept getting him the damn pills along with his strong anti-depressants, because at least then he would function properly.
As it is, with Hyunjin’s brain far too preoccupied, he falls five seconds short of his time from the day before. Five seconds doesn’t sound like a lot to most people, but for athletes, it’s the difference between breaking a record or even qualifying for anything in the first place. For all intents and purposes, and for all the time spent working for it, five seconds is a lifetime.
Hyunjin hides in the showers until his heart calms down and he can breathe normally again. He needs to… Fuck , he needs to go home and get those meds or he’ll never make it through the day. Especially not with how his brain has decided to take this opportunity to spiral.
Again, he has to wait to calm down, before slowly driving himself back home to take a pill and hold his dog.
He is very, very, very late to class, having missed three already. And hey, it’s not like anything bad happens in consequence. Not really. But still, the guilt is so crushing it might as well count as punishment. And again, with his brain occupied, Hyunjin fails once more during his afternoon practice, which just adds to the pile of things now going wrong because of one simple mistake. Maybe he’ll set a few more alarms, just in case. This can never, ever, ever happen again. Hyunjin wonders if it’s just that his body betrayed him. The last thought he’d had before bed was that he was tired. But he can’t just stop being tired. Not when it’s this kind of tired, not when even sleeping exhausts him like this.
The weekend rolls around like a groundmill. Hyunjin spends the entirety of Saturday practising his freestyle, because no matter how good his butterfly might be, it doesn’t give him permission to slip in other styles, even if that’s not his main focus. The time spent out of the pool is spent in front of his computer, finishing an essay and studying for a test. Meanwhile, Sunday means church first thing in the morning, and then study time in the afternoon.
Hyunjin doesn’t mind church much, considering he can just sit there for an hour and zone out without feeling like he’s wasting time. Absent-mindedly, he touches at the cross necklace his grandfather gave him years ago and that he has worn ever since. It’s pretty, but it means nothing to him, like the words the priests deliver in their sermons. They talk of prayer, like it does anything, like Hyunjin wasn’t on his knees, begging for help, and received absolutely nothing.
However, If he told his parents he doesn’t believe in God, they’d throw him out of the house.
Arriving back at home, Hyunjin notices the Hans standing outside, car out of the garage, Jisung with the hose in hand, staring one-eyed into it while one of his mothers gestures widely at him, soapy sponge in hand, and the other finally turns on the water. Needless to say it sprays Jisung in the eye and face, and he sputters around while the hose goes wild, like a water dragon that can’t be tamed. Hyunjin’s parents say nothing, but pull judgemental faces and glance at each other before disappearing into the house. For some reason, Hyunjin lingers to watch the Hans, only mildly concerned that some of that soapy water will end up on his suit.
“I said we were going to wash the car, not our son!” one of the moms shouts mid laughing.
“Well, but it unclogged, now,” the other chirps, patting Jisung, who just managed to tame the hose despite the wild coughing, on the back. “Come on, spray the car.”
“Cough harder, mi hijo ,” the other says. “It would be so embarrassing if you drowned on dry land. We raised you better than that.”
Jisung keeps coughing but turns the water to his mothers, who scream as they run around the car, Jisung in all his tiny glory chasing after them while wheezing to keep up, lungs probably still full of water.
Hyunjin’s heart aches, suddenly. He knows everyone struggles with things, that every family has their issues and it’s not always what it appears to be, but… But Hyunjin wants this. He wants a family he can laugh with, talk to, a family that might even understand him and… and love him. Does Jisung ever doubt that his parents love him, the way Hyunjin works so hard to assure his own do?
Suddenly, Jisung stops when he notices Hyunjin standing right there. And, after staring at him for a few seconds, turns the hose towards him as if to make him step back and out of their front lawn and into his own.
Hyunjin flushes, embarrassed at being caught staring. “S—Sorry,” he babbles, quickly turning to rush away. Ugh...
“ Hyunjin-ah! Get in here and help set the table! ” his mother calls from inside, in loud, fluent Korean. She never talks to him in English. His father will, occasionally, but his mother thinks that speaking Korean at home is the only way to keep the language ‘alive’ for Hyunjin. And hey, they’re not entirely wrong.
“I’m coming! ” Hyunjin calls back, ears burning. Is Jisung still looking at him? Does Hyunjin really need to look over his shoulder to check? No, but he still does. And yes, Jisung is still looking over his shoulder. He sticks his tongue out at Hyunjin, and then, once again, flicks him the bird. It makes Hyunjin pull a face and look away. What did I ever do to you?!
JISUNG
Jisung closes his locker and gets tackled by Changbin, and then the both of them get lifted by Chan, whose work out is clearly finally starting to prove fortuitous. “What’s happening?” Jisung chuckles as he tries to get free. He ends up screeching a little when Changbin pretends to kiss him which, in turn, makes Changbin screech, too, right into Jisung’s ear.
“Happy birthday, mate,” Chan laughs, finally letting go.
“Thanks,” Jisung huffs.
“Give me a smooch, birthday boy,” Changbin teases, trying his best to kiss Jisung’s cheeks.
“No,” Jisung whines, pushing Changbin’s head away with a hand to his face. Changbin keeps trying, and Chan laughs and smacks Changbin’s arm.
“Gettoff, we’re trying to give him a good birthday.”
“Precisely,” Changbin says, at which point Jisung gives up and Changbin’s moist lips land on his cheek. Jisung just makes a face, eyes and nose scrunching while Changbin manhandles him. Of course, once he lets go, Jisung proceeds to clean his face with the sleeve of his denim jacket. “Offended,” Changbin scoffs. Jisung ignores him.
“Got plans?” Chan asks. “Your moms usually spoil you rotten so we’re off the hook.”
Jisung shrugs and then sighs, lifting one of his backpack’s straps and hanging it off his shoulder. “They’ve been annoying me to bring people over, so maybe you guys could come over later today?”
“Oh, hell yeah, I love going over to your house,” Changbin says. “Your moms are awesome and that room of yours—” Changbin makes a loud ‘mwah’ sound. “Chef’s kiss.”
Jisung huffs a laugh. “Noted,” he says, and then frowns when Chan elbows his arm.
“Incoming Hwangs,” he says, and then repeats, voice lower, “Incoming Hwangs.”
Jisung glances over to see Yeji and Hyunjin walking down the corridor, followed by Minho and Ryujin. They all look so… polished, and perfect, like they’re on their way to a photoshoot and not AP Maths. Maybe that’s why people stare, although Changbin admittedly stares more at Minho than the others.
He thinks Jisung and Chan don’t know, but the truth is that Minho and Changbin have been texting on occasion. Sometimes, even going as far as to sext. It’s not like they’ve ever spoken to each other IRL, but it’s one of those things. Jisung would worry more about his friend’s feelings, if it wasn’t for the fact he’s not supposed to act like he knows. Changbin isn’t as good at keeping secrets as he thinks…
“So, do we meet outside after class or are you going to people-watch today, too?” Chan asks.
Jisung peeks at him and then shrugs. “It’s my birthday. Of course I’m going to people-watch.” And by that he means that he’ll be getting a sandwich, one of those nasty ones with just chicken and sauce, and then will sit down at the bleachers to watch Hyunjin swim in his tiny, tiny swimming shorts.
“Are you ever going to actually talk to him?” Changbin asks, voice a little lower.
“What for?” Jisung scoffs, looking down. “He doesn’t like me much, for some reason.”
“He doesn’t talk to people much anyway, just that friend group of his,” Chan says. “Probably too busy being popular and talented. Asshole.”
Jisung grins over at Chan and nudges him. “Aw, but look at you. So not popular but so effin-talented~”
“One day,” Chan says, finger up. “One day, people will look back and say, oh, I used to be in school with that guy .”
Jisung nods. “The day a popular label finds your shit on Soundcloud.”
“I’ll be on Spotify soon,” Chan mumbles, turning to Jisung. “In any case, I love you and I am very happy to be your friend.”
Jisung pouts. “Aw, thank you. I love you, too, Channie.”
“What about me?” Changbin complains.
“Your birthday was last month, you idiot,” Jisung scoffs, pushing Changbin away just in time to make way for class as the bell rings. “Les’go, fellas. Torture awaits.”
HYUNJIN
With October’s arrival, things start feeling a little tighter. The stress increases, because nothing lets up. High School Swim Season only properly starts after Christmas Holidays, but Hyunjin’s father, having used the word ‘Olympics’, has Hyunjin’s coach training him constantly. And when it’s not about increasing his athleticism, it’s about practicing different strokes, about meeting certain standards. Add that on top of constantly stressing that his application to Stanford isn’t shiny enough, isn’t good enough, that he won’t get accepted into their swimming team even though everyone has assured him he’s good enough... That plus what it takes to be a good student; homework, tests, quizzes, studying, the pressure of doing good in all of those...
And then… And then it’s the thought of doing this for years. That he’ll graduate only to step into more stress, into higher records to break, into expectations he doesn’t even know about yet. There are people that swim with him that love this, that want nothing more than to swim at his pace and have even a shot at the Olympics. But isn’t that even more guilt..? He worked hard for this, he shouldn’t feel guilty about it, but he still does, because he knows he doesn’t want it, and they do. That’s important, too.
His will breaks when Yeji texts him in the middle of lunch break, asking if he can come over on the weekend because her parents aren’t home.
The question seems to drill through Hyunjin’s body. What sane man would say no? So, Hyunjin types something assuring, something that sounds excitable and happy, and sends it just as his ass hits the closed toilet of the Henry M. Gunn boy’s bathroom. Hyunjin pushes his hands out against the stall as he tries to breathe, but they shake and slip so he wraps his arms around himself and gasps for air. This shouldn’t be happening, I’m on my meds, they should be stopping this, what am I doing wrong?!
The thought makes him sob, because why is that always his first thought? Why is he always blaming himself for everything? Why is he never good enough, even for himself? Why can’t he do anything right, and when he does, why is it the only time anyone cares? Why can’t he even remember the last time he said ‘I love you’ to someone, or had it said to him in any way that matters, in any way that would permeate his chest and make him feel something other than this… this suffocating pressure that wants to crush him?
“Stop it,” he scolds himself in a whisper, squeezing himself and imagining for a moment that it’s someone else. His heart hurts, because he knows it isn’t, but it tricks his head for a moment, so he does it again. And again. And then reaches up to cup at his own cheek the way a loving mother would, the way someone who loved him would. The illusion doesn’t hold, and the panic wrapped around his chest doesn’t dissipate. So he just cries and breathes and waits for it to go away. It’s all he can really do.
There’s a slight scratching sound, then, and it comes from the stall right next to Hyunjin’s. It scares him, his heart jumping in his chest. “Uhm… Hello?” someone says, then, sending Hyunjin into an embarrassed and panicky overdrive. He doesn’t want to speak, because then they might know who is in the stall next to them, riding out a panic attack. So, he puts his hands over his mouth and tries to be quieter, like they’ll just forget about him and leave. “Uhm, I just finished rolling this, would it help?” the person says, and Hyunjin looks down to see black nails hold a joint up from under the stall barrier.
Hyunjin swallows thickly, shaking his head before realising (obviously) that they can’t see him. “I—” his voice barely sounds like his own, so hopefully they don’t know who he is. “I’m not allowed to, but th—thanks…”
The joint stays there for a couple of seconds more, before the hand pulls it away. “Suit yourself,” they say. “Mind if I blow it?”
Did they have to say it like that?
“No,” Hyunjin sniffs, taking a few more breaths. The world is still blurry, and the elephant on his chest seems to have taken a seat.
“Tough day?” the stranger asks, the sound of a lighter being flicked echoing in the bathroom.
“I’m fine,” Hyunjin defends, even though he’s sure he should just shut up.
“Clearly.”
Hyunjin sniffs and pushes his hands into his hair. How is he supposed to ride out a panic attack when he’s too embarrassed to sob his eyes out? He frowns, though, when the person next door starts humming the melody to a song that they quickly turn into lyrics.
“Wake up at eleven-thirty, feeling like a bag of shit — Oh no! — All my clothes are dirty, so I’m smelling like a bag of shit.” Hyunjin looks over like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Go to pour my coffee, and I miss my cup. OMG, that is just my luck. Look in the mirror say: ‘What’s up, you useless fuck?’”
Hyunjin huffs a soft laugh. “What..?”
“Bo Burnham,” the person says. “It’s a classic.”
“It’s… an actual song..?”
“Yep, wait, lemme…” The person seems to shift around. Hyunjin hears the clunk of a backpack being dropped and then sees it under the gap between their stalls. It’s starting to smell like weed, too. “Here,” the person says, right before a song starts. It’s… quirky, but in the weirdest way possible. It sounds like… well, a different kind of mental breakdown to the one Hyunjin is used to, but a mental breakdown nonetheless. “Feeling like a saggy, massive sack of shit,” the person sings along.
Hyunjin giggles softly, and only then realises he’s stopped shaking.
“Fellas,” the guy sings over the phone. “Are you feeling like shit? Tell me, are you feeling like shit?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, and he and the stranger laugh softly together.
When the song is over, the guy plays him another one. Hyunjin assumes it must be called Welcome To The Internet, considering the amount of times those words are repeated. Either way, the lyrics are genius level, and the song is so catchy Hyunjin finds himself swaying to it at some point.
“It’s silly,” Hyunjin says afterwards, looking down at his hands. It’s always a good indicator when they don’t shake anymore. “I like it. Thanks…”
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says. They… probably already know who he is, by now, so he just hopes they don’t tell anyone. “Sorry…”
“No biggie,” they say.
Hyunjin opens his mouth to ask who this is he’s been spending time with in a bathroom, but it feels invasive, and inappropriate, for some reason, so Hyunjin just stands up. “See you around, toilet stall stranger,” he jokes softly.
“See ya.”
The bell rings a couple of minutes later, Hyunjin’s eyes still red despite how much more sober his face looks. Nobody asks. He wonders if he’s ‘intimidating’, or if people simply don’t care. The only person who looks at him, as per usual, is Jisung. And when Hyunjin looks back, his eyes catch on the boy’s hands, noting the black nails just as his heart tightens.
Oh.
Wait. Does that mean Jisung is high right now?! If Hyunjin stares, it’s just to prove the fact. And if Jisung stares back, it’s mostly because that’s all he does, constantly, all the time. And yes, his eyes appear to be as red as Hyunjin’s—for very different reasons, though.
At least this time, Hyunjin doesn’t get the middle finger. He looks away before Jisung changes his mind, and wonders why on Earth Jisung, of all people, would spend time calming Hyunjin out of a panic attack.
Idiot.
Temperatures drop harshly towards the end of October, and November begins on a leveled 64ºF. Hyunjin tells his parents he needs stronger medication, and because they don’t want to deal with his ‘mental issues’, they schedule an appointment and he gets a higher dosage.
Yay…
It works, at least, in the way it should, even if it makes him more shaky, more irritable, and even more tired. When he nearly passes out in the pool, he has to go back, yet again, for his old medicine, and is told to ‘deal’ with the extra anxiety because the new medication affects his swimming too much.
Yay...
Yeji starts to get a little concerned, and asks him once, when they’re alone, if Hyunjin is okay. He knows she asks because any sane man given a woman this beautiful, half-naked in his bed, would be far more enthusiastic about it. He blames it on stress and goes down on her until she has completely forgotten her concern.
He tries to sleep longer hours, so he’ll be less tired, but it leads to overworking himself in the fewer hours when he’s awake, and he nearly pulls a muscle on a jog. He’s told to rest but he can’t just rest , so his anxiety spikes even more.
One day, he completely forgets to do his homework, and something as simple as that makes him spiral yet again. And this time, there’s no bathroom stall to hide in, or a stranger offering weed and trying to distract him with stupid, silly songs.
Hyunjin hasn’t touched a paintbrush or a pencil in months. He can’t find the time, or the inspiration, or even the will. His life suddenly feels so reduced to swimming and exercising that he can’t even enjoy the bits in between. To everyone else, though, he looks dedicated, hard-working, high-strung, ambitious, and completely untouchable.
Something needs to change or I’m going to break.
But no matter what, he can’t think of a single thing he can do to ease the pressure; there’s nothing he can let go of that won’t disappoint his parents, and there’s nothing he can do to help, because he simply doesn’t have the energy for it.
One very boring, very stressful morning, after a terrible hour at practice earlier in the day, Hyunjin gets stabbed in the back with a sharp pencil at the start of class, right after having briefly turned around to pass a stack of papers behind him. He frowns and peeks over, finding Minho, who uses said sharp pencil to point somewhere else; directly at the person sitting diagonally behind Hyunjin, towards the left, by the window. Hyunjin suddenly finds himself staring directly at Jisung, round eyes adorned in thick black eyeliner staring right back.
Jisung flicks Hyunjin the bird right before showing him his own phone.
What in the hell…
Hyunjin frowns, reaching for his own phone to swipe past the picture of Yeji, unlocking it to see a message from a contact he’d forgotten he had.
Mortified, Hyunjin reaches up to thumb at his nose. Sure enough, he feels ‘The Long Booger’, and rushes to clean his nose with a napkin from his bag. He then turns around to hit the hell out of Minho’s arm for not telling him.
“What?” Minho hisses quietly.
“I hope you step on shit,” Hyunjin hisses back.
“Rude.”
Hyunjin turns to the front in time to see his phone’s screen light up with a text. He never has it on vibrate, it’s always on mute.
Hyunjin considers texting back, but it feels… odd, so he sends an embarrassed looking sticker and glances back to smile at Jisung in embarrassment, as well. Human faces are just real life stickers, huh? In return, Jisung smiles, too, something that is just a stretch of lips and not an actual smile, and then gives Hyunjin the middle finger one more time. Hyunjin stares, quickly turning to his phone.
Hyunjin frowns in thought. What the hell is he talking about…? Class starts, and Hyunjin knows he’s distracted, thinking about it. Until it occurs to him mid-class, the image of him scaring the crap out of Jisung with a honk of his car horn, and he bursts into a small giggle he covers with his hand.
No way he’s still upset over that… That was almost a month ago! Or more, honestly, Hyunjin doesn’t even know.
And when he glances over to look directly into another middle finger, he giggles again.
Idiot…
That afternoon, Hyunjin spots Jisung where he always is, on the third seat from the top of the bleachers, sitting in the shade and eating some sort of snack. Hyunjin leaves him be, and lets his coach boss him around in the hope of progress. It’s not a terrible practice, so Hyunjin finishes on a decent score and with a decent mood, amused to glance up and see Jisung still there.
He smiles to himself, reaches for his phone in his bag on the floor as he ruffles his hair with a towel, and sends Jisung a text.
It’s not. But Jisung still buffers, and then looks down between his legs to check if his fly is open. He’s not even wearing jeans or anything like that, he’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, a white shirt and a denim jacket lined with fake fur.
From the bleachers, Jisung straightens up and flips Hyunjin the bird. “Fuck you!” he shouts.
It’s childish, but it makes Hyunjin smile, so it can’t be too bad, right? Right.
It keeps happening, then, the texts. In small bursts for no real reason, mostly just Jisung trying to get Hyunjin back for that one, failing until he succeeds, and then Hyunjin trying to get him back. It goes on for days, with small breaks in-between, no longer than forty eight hours.
For instance, at some point in the last week of November, Hyunjin is standing by his locker, going through his assignment due in the next class and making sure nothing is missing, when he gets a text.
Hyunjin spins in a little circle to try and see all of his pants.
Hyunjin gapes a little at his phone. And then, for some reason, at his ass.
Hyunjin freezes a little, moving his eyes without moving his head, to try and spot Jisung. He finds him upon glimpsing at a group of people, Jisung somehow in the middle of them, leaning against the wall while the others talk between themselves. He winks at Hyunjin and then looks down at his phone.
Hyunjin frowns softly, leaning against the locker. This is stupid, and distracting, but fun. So maybe going to a party wouldn't be the end of the world...
Hyunjin glances over his shoulder to see Jisung’s expression, smiling when he sees the obviously over exaggerated shock.
Hyunjin narrows his eyes on his phone.
Hyunjin rolls his shoulders with a small shiver, putting his phone away to walk to class.
Yeah, this is definitely a bad idea.
JISUNG
Jisung only goes to parties when he’s feeling low and particularly lonely. Tonight’s party is at a very big house only a couple of blocks away from his place. So, after spending an hour getting ready, he walks there. He enjoys arriving past the time, because being on time for a party the way grown-ups do is stupidly lame.
The music can be heard at the beginning of the street. And, once Jisung finds the house and walks in, he’s punched by the strong scent of weed. MONTERO is playing so loud that Jisung can’t help the little grin. The straights must be losing it. And Changbin is probably the one whistling out loud at the back.
Jisung’s group of friends is usually just Chan and Changbin, but sometimes other people are added to the mix. Jeongin is a freshman, but he’s friends with Seungmin, who showed him around on touring day at the start of the school year. They kinda hit it off, in a weird way that Jisung doesn’t really understand, so Jeongin sometimes joins Seungmin in the hallways, or for parties he was definitely not invited to.
Usually, they’re by the table with the snacks. Today, they’re all outside, gathered by the pool, drinks in hand. Jisung briefly considers throwing Chan into the pool as the man joins him and the both of them walk towards the others, but it’d be in poor taste to do it so early into this thing. Besides, it’s kinda cold tonight.
“Hey, fellas,” Jisung greets while also giving Chan a pat on the back, “Minor.” He means Jeongin.
“Old man,” Jeongin greets. He means Chan. “And squirrel,” Jeongin greets again. He means Jisung.
“Finally, the cool kids are here,” Seungmin jokes, reaching over to give Jisung a small punch on the shoulder. “Have you tried these?” he asks, then, picking up what looks like cream cheese on top of a slice of crispy bread. “It’s like, genuinely good. The brownies, too. It’s like this party has catering.”
Jisung glances back over his shoulder to peek inside. He immediately spots the table with the snacks, although apparently the hosts are setting one up outside, as well. “I guess I’ll go take a look. Need a drink, as well.” He glances at Chan. “D’you want anything?”
“Yeah, I'm the designated driver, so just coca cola or something, thanks,” Chan smiles.
“Cool,” Jisung says, turning around and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he walks inside. He peeks into the living/dining room and then slowly makes his way to the table with the snacks. There’s a little bit of everything, so Jisung tries a little bit of everything. He quickly figures out he hates the pickled garlic. But it’s nothing a drink can’t wash down, so he fetches Chan a coke and gets himself something with alcohol before walking back outside.
“This party is kinda lame,” Jeongin says, then. “Dunno if it’s because I can’t drink or if the movies have just lied to me.”
Jisung scoffs a laugh as he hands Chan his drink. “Come back to me in two hours.”
Two hours later, Jeongin’s face has glitter on it and Chan is drenched. The music feels twice as loud and the entire house is just one big hot box. Jisung ends up leaving his friends behind to go find a bathroom. But the house is so big it’s all just bedrooms. Now, obviously, bathrooms are dangerous places. One never knows what to expect upon opening the door. So, Jisung is only mildly surprised when he finally stumbles in one and finds Hyunjin sitting on the edge of a tub.
Needless to say Jisung is a little drunk, so he stumbles and ends up closing the door when he trips. “Hi,” he says, and then burps, having to bring a hand up to his mouth when something comes up. Oh, that’s bad-bad.
“Woah, careful,” Hyunjin says, and Jisung is somehow guided to the toilet, considering that’s what he throws up into and not just onto the floor.
When he lifts himself back up he manages to find the flush, and then squints at Hyunjin before turning to the sink to rinse his mouth and steal some toothpaste. It’s so minty it unclogs his nostrils in less than a second.
“Are you okay..?”
“Better out than in,” Jisung says after spitting and cleaning the sink.
“I suppose that’s an answer,” Hyunjin mumbles, sitting back down on the edge of the tub.
Jisung sniffles and then clears his throat. It burns a little. Fucking puke. “So, what are you up to?” he asks, turning to face Hyunjin while trying to lean against the sink but failing at every attempt and just missing the landing. It probably looks like an attempt at looking cool. But really, it isn’t, Jisung’s world is just spinning a little.
“Hiding,” Hyunjin says. He’s eyeing Jisung like he’s both curious and worried about him.
Jisung ends up crossing his arms. “From what?”
Hyunjin looks at the door. “Everything, I guess… And there’s so much weed out there…”
Jisung raises an eyebrow, slowly trying to glance back over his shoulder and then frowning at the door. “Riiiight… ‘Cause of the, uhm,” Jisung clears his throat and looks at Hyunjin again, making small freestyle moves.
It makes Hyunjin giggle. “Yeah, because of that…”
“I’m sure you’ll have peed out the traces of it by the time Monday rolls around.”
“Call me paranoid,” Hyunjin shrugs, before peeking up at him. “You know, you really should stop trying to peer-pressure me into drugs.”
“I’m not—” Jisung shifts, frowning. “Fine, maybe I am…”
“Hm, you look the type.”
Jisung licks his lips and looks down. He’s trying not to be offended. He’s drunk, not high. Most things sound mildly offensive when he’s drunk. “Because of the blue hair, the eyeliner and the black nails?”
Hyunjin snaps his fingers and points at Jisung. “Exactly. The stuff of nightmares for my poor parents.”
“Hm…” Jisung sniffles and turns a little so he’s leaning against the sink with his lower back, arms still crossed. “S’that why the bunch of you hates us so much…?” he asks, peeking over but having to blink a few times when the world spins.
Hyunjin frowns, before pouting and looking down. “Don’t say it like that…”
“How do you want me to say it? Pretty sure I didn’t start dyeing my hair until I was, what, fourteen…? Fifteen? So... I have to wonder what it was...”
Hyunjin whines softly. “Please don’t make me say it…”
Jisung thinks, but his brain is mostly mud at this point. Still, he wonders, “Was it the two moms?”
“Y—Yeah. I’m sorry. It wasn’t… I didn’t think, and I told them, and they… told me to stay away. Sorry…”
“Hm,” Jisung hums, a little sad but mostly just mad. At Hyunjin? At the world? Who knows. He sighs and looks away, leaning away from the sink and walking towards the door that keeps shifting between too far and too close.
“Please don’t hate me...”
“I don’t,” Jisung mumbles, frowning when he finally manages to grab the handle. “But if they hated that then I suppose they’d hate this more, so I’ll just…” Why is this door so complicated…? “Remove myself from your presence once I figure out how to open this thing,” he mumbles, grabbing the handle with both hands and shaking it.
Hyunjin gets up, walking closer and smacking Jisung’s hand away from the handle to hold the handle. “Sorry,” he says again, before opening the door and swinging it open for him.
Jisung finger-guns the corridor and then walks out, spinning a little and bowing at Hyunjin. “Sorry for all the gay,” he says, before looking both way and trying to decipher which way is down. Left? He goes left.
Later, on the way home, Jisung lets himself mourn over the fact that his high school crush has homophobic parents who’ve ruined a bunch of potentially good moments. He wanted struggles, but now he hates having been handed one. Being hated is much more acceptable than just being denied something because of his moms, who love each other too much, and maybe, eventually, Jisung’s own sexuality. It’s not exactly disappointing, as much as it is just… sad. Maybe I should stop being a thorn in his shoe, too, Jisung thinks. Although the thought of not filling his afternoons with some people-watching depresses him a little. It was something to look forward to. And it was rather nice to be able to piss off the one guy who made him cry when he was younger. As it is, it’s just stupid.
HYUNJIN
Monday comes, and it’s the first time, since the beginning of sophomore year, that Hyunjin spots the lack of blue hair on the bleachers. An odd sense of sadness washes over him, then, and he knows why. Because his parents just ruined something else for him, too. It’s so silly, because it’s just a random boy, a boy he used to know, that now he barely talks to—but occasionally texts. And also a boy whose feelings he very clearly hurt.
What do I do…?
The sun is beginning to set by the time Hyunjin walks out of school. Today, Yeji is waiting for him by the car, leaning against it while she reads through a book. She is one of Hyunjin’s favourite people, even if her role in his life troubles him sometimes. He knows she deserves better, deserves more, deserves a genuine connection with someone who will truly, properly love her, but the idea of letting her go frightens him too much to be able to do it. Even now, he wishes he could ask for her advice, but then he’d have to admit to yet another person that his parents are awful people.
Is that what Hyunjin is doing? Dedicating his life to pleasing two awful people?
“Hey,” he greets.
“Hey, handsome,” Yeji greets when she looks up, immediately putting her book away and smiling. “How was today?”
“Fine,” he lies. It feels like they’ve done this little routine a thousand times already, and Hyunjin feels terrible for thinking it rather boring. Then again, Hyunjin is boring; he knows that; he is entirely aware . “Hey, uh… Do you mind if we take a short detour? I wanna buy you something nice and get something for my mom, too.”
Only half of that is a lie.
“Oh, uhm,” Yeji blinks. “Sure…” She grins, then, and latches onto Hyunjin’s arm. “What’s the occasion?”
“Must there be an occasion?” Hyunjin smiles.
“Aw, best boyfriend,” Yeji coos before letting go of Hyunjin to skip towards the other side of the car and get in. Note to self; good boyfriends spontaneously spoil their girlfriends .
They drive until Hyunjin sees what he’s looking for, and buys Yeji a massive bouquet of flowers that she excitedly picks out herself and wastes no time making an Instagram post out of. As she does, Hyunjin buys another big bouquet. He asks for it to be in pinks, oranges and whites, hoping he remembered that correctly.
He drops Yeji off and gets back home, heart pounding in his chest as he gets out of the car with the bouquet in hand. His parents aren’t home yet, but Jisung’s are. And this might be the worst idea Hyunjin has ever had, but apparently he’s stupid enough to go through with it, knocking at the Hans’ front door with his heart in his throat.
Obviously, the last person he expected to open the door for him was Jisung, but the world hates Hyunjin so that’s what he gets. Jisung in no makeup and slightly damp hair, clearly fresh out of the shower, a rare sight.
Jisung immediately narrows his eyes and stands in the gap between the door and the door frame like a tall, impassable wall, even though he’s much shorter than Hyunjin. “Yes…?” Jisung questions, only then noticing the flowers. His eyebrow twitches. “If that’s for me, I must tell you I hate orange.”
“Naturally,” Hyunjin says, before realising that’s a bit of a dick thing to do. “And no, no, it’s for your, uhm, moms… I just couldn’t stand the fact that they think we hate them.”
Jisung frowns and glances up. “Hm…” He lifts both eyebrows, then, and kind of shrugs, before turning away from the door. “Ma, Mom!” he shouts into the house. “Delivery for you!”
“Oh, God,” Hyunjin breathes.
“God doesn’t live in this house,” Jisung mutters as he steps away to make way for his mothers. They’re both quite different. One is tall, tan, eyes dark but shiny like gemstones, hair brown and long, face slightly squishy, legs big enough to break Hyunjin in half if he were to bully her child. The other is much shorter, Asian, black short hair, just above the shoulder, but straightened, eyes dark, skin slightly fairer in comparison to her wife and Jisung himself. “Delivery,” Jisung gestures vaguely, and then disappears behind the two women.
“Oh,” the tallest one goes.
Hyunjin laughs softly, incredibly nervous suddenly. “G—Good evening. I—” he swallows. “Sorry for doing this so out of the blue, but it was brought to my attention recently that… That, well, that my family might have made you uncomfortable, in the past..?” he nearly winces, holding out the bouquet. “I just wanted to apologise and give you this…”
The women look between each other. A Latin-American mom and an Asian mom, what a terrifying combo; Hyunjin is terrified. However, both of them immediately coo at him, taking the flowers and practically grabbing him and pulling him inside the way people do with strays. Hyunjin only realizes he’s in unknown territory once he hears the door close behind him and sees Jisung roll his eyes and walk away like he disapproves of this.
“They’re gorgeous!” the tall mom says, literally burying her face in the bouquet while the other woman guides Hyunjin further into the house. This is definitely more than he bargained for, and he tries not to look too nervous, even if his heart is pounding like crazy.
Obviously, just like what it seemed like from the outside, this place is much smaller than Hyunjin’s. The front door opens directly into the living room, and then the area turns into an L, the next small area being occupied by a dining table and leading back into the long kitchen.
Hyunjin ends up sitting down at the dining table, which is already set for three. Something smells nice, and he spots two pots on the stove, something sizzling out of one of them. One of Jisung’s moms walks into the kitchen to get something for the flowers, while the other one sits with Hyunjin at the table.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks.
“Wh—What?” Hyunjin blinks. He knows what she asked, but he can’t really… process it. “Oh, I can’t, I—I really didn’t mean to impose.”
“But it’s not imposing, mi amor, ” the other woman says as she comes out of the kitchen. She places a jar at the center of the table, bouquet now loose and fluffed out of the glass. “We’d love to have you. And you brought us such a lovely gift.”
Hyunjin swallows a little dryly and nods, feeling it rude, suddenly, to say no. What the hell have I done?! My parents are going to kill me.
“Vale. Do you like curry?”
“Depends on how much it burns,” Hyunjin jokes softly.
“Not much,” the other woman says with a sigh, “Jisung is a disgrace of a son, he can’t stand food that is too spicy.”
“Ah, then I’d make for a terrible son, as well,” Hyunjin smiles.
“Dios mío! We haven’t even introduced ourselves properly,” the tall woman exclaims suddenly, making Hyunjin’s heart jump. “My name is María Elena, but you can call me Elena.”
“Oh, right,” the other woman says, lifting a hand and smiling in a mannerism that is very much Jisung. “I’m just Zoe. Nice to have you in the house again.”
Hyunjin flushes. “Sorry for not, uhm, remembering your names…”
“You were an infant, I didn’t expect you to,” Zoe says, waving a hand.
“Anyway,” Elena says. “Go on. You can go to Jisungie’s room. We’ll call when dinner is done. And don’t worry, we won’t tell your parents you were here.”
Jisung’s room?!
“Th—Thank you,” Hyunjin says, because he doesn’t have a damn clue what else to say, and gets up to confidently guess where Jisung’s room is.
It’s a decent guess to think it might be the room with the blue mood light on, and from where a soft hum of music is flowing out of, which is the second door in the long corridor that extends to Hyunjin’s left. The first door leads into an office, and Hyunjin only peaks in to see how nice it looks, full of plants and books, one single armchair by the window with a blanket on it. Past that and Jisung’s bedroom, Hyunjin glimpses at a bathroom, the third door in the long corridor. As for the last door, it’s probably the moms’ room.
Jisung’s bedroom is slightly different from the rest of the house, but still has the same tasteful vibe. The walls aren’t white, they’re a grey-blue, instead, except for the wall at the back, which is an odd but pretty mix of red, orange and black bricks. I thought you didn’t like orange, asshole . Against said wall, is the bed, also atop a black iron bunk, the below area filled with a couch, pillows and a blanket. Opposite to that, there’s a TV mounted on the wall. Below it, a small cabinet in black, games scattered on top of it, right next to the PlayStation 5. There’s a desk, too, by the big window, and the wardrobe is in the wall. The small carpet in the middle of the room is occupied by a skateboard, a guitar full of stickers, Jisung and some clothes. Right by the door, there’s a tall mirror.
“Damn,” Hyunjin says, once he’s taken it all in and looks to Jisung, door clicking closed behind him. Whoops . “Your room is really cool. I swear I’ve seen a picture of it on Pinterest, at some point...”
Jisung sighs. “You’re weird,” he says, shaking his head and letting himself fall back over the carpet. “Let me guess, they invited you for dinner…”
“Yeaaaah,” Hyunjin says, biting at his bottom lip. “I’m sorry, I really just meant to give them flowers…”
Jisung crosses his arms under his head and glances at Hyunjin. “You gave those idiots flowers in the colours of the lesbian flag, and you expected them not to shelter you?”
Hyunjin heaves a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god I remembered those colours correctly, I thought I was way off…”
Jisung sits up again and crosses his legs, lowering his eyes before glancing at Hyunjin again. It’s the first time Hyunjin has seen him act this shy, or seem this shy, if ‘shy’ is the right word at all.
“I’ll…” Hyunjin shifts from one foot to the other. “Think of something to get you, too, as an apology. Flowers just seemed a bit, er…”
“If you offered me flowers you’d have to date me,” Jisung mumbles, face far too serious.
“I—” Hyunjin stutters, face going red as his heart contracts into a tight ball. “I’m—I’m not —”
“I was… joking,” Jisung says, then huffs a laugh. “Relax…”
Hyunjin is immediately defensive, heart still tight. “I don’t mind that you are, though, really, I don’t.”
“Then, sit down,” Jisung scoffs. “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.”
You’d be surprised .
Unsure and obviously a bit awkward, Hyunjin lowers himself down to sit on Jisung’s carpet, trying not to think too hard about this situation he’s put himself in. “Your… parents seem to think we’re friends. Or are they just like that?”
“They’re just like that,” Jisung says. “They do know we used to be friends, though.”
Hyunjin smiles small, fidgeting with his fingers. “You taught me a lot of my first English, you know. I remember you made a point of it. At the end of summer, I could say all the ‘important words’. Hot dog, pool, please, thank you, dog, tree… ”
Jisung huffs a laugh. “Sounds like me, I guess.” He looks down, then, and sighs. “And then you yeeted out of my life.” He shakes his head. “Typical of hot guys.”
“I was six at the time, Jisung,” Hyunjin laughs softly. “Definitely no ‘hot guy’ unless you mean ‘sunburnt’ and ‘male’.”
“Something like that,” Jisung says, lifting a leg and folding it to rest his cheek against his knee.
“You know I didn’t want to, right?” Hyunjin asks, peeking at Jisung. His hair is falling slightly over his eyes, and it’s fluffing up as it dries. “I really didn’t have any choice in it, and when I tried to talk to you once we started school, you were so mad at me I thought you hated me and didn’t want me talking to you…”
Jisung snorts a laugh. “I wasn’t mad at you, you were just suddenly attractive and you hated me.”
Hyunjin makes a face at all of that . “I didn’t hate you!”
“Whatever, I thought you did.”
“Ditto,” Hyunjin says. He looks back down and reaches up to pinch at his lip nervously. “When did you, er…” Hyunjin frowns. “Nevermind, that’s a stupid question, the whole world knows that’s a stupid question…”
Jisung blinks slowly. “Ask it, then.”
Hyunjin huffs and wiggles in slight embarrassment. “When did you know you were gay?”
“Oh,” Jisung blinks, looking down. “Hm… I think… I’ve always known? Although it only hit me when I was thirteen-ish. And then again, a few years later, while browsing the internet.”
Hyunjin frowns softly. “Like, hot guys on the internet..?” Ugh.
“Black and white tumblr gifs,” Jisung admits, squishing his bottom lip against his thumb and peeking up.
“Right,” Hyunjin frowns, even though he has no idea what Jisung is talking about. “Okay, thanks. I guess it’s, er, easy for you? Having two moms and all…”
“Oh, definitely,” Jisung scoffs. “I never had the heteronormative shoved down my throat since I was always open to the possibility, I guess.”
Hyunjin nods again, pinching his lip so hard it hurts. “Cool.”
“What about you?” Jisung asks, casually leaning in to fetch his guitar and then pulling it over his lap for a dramatic strum. “When did you know you were straight?”
Hyunjin huffs. “Hm, funny…” He takes a breath to get rid of the pressure in his chest. Talking about this… this stuff is making Hyunjin so nervous, what the hell… “Y—You can play guitar?”
“Yes,” Jisung says, fingering through the strings.
“And you skate, and your bedroom looks like this,” Hyunjin nods. “You really are just cool , huh?”
Jisung frowns in amusement. “I don’t know. People used to make fun of me up until tenth grade.”
“You had a... What’s it called? Glow up?”
“I hope so,” Jisung scoffs, looking down to finger through the strings again. At some point it starts sounding like something. “Do you like Taylor Swift?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says softly, like he shouldn't admit to it, for some reason.
“Do you know this one?” Jisung asks, smiling small as he glances up and keeps playing.
Hyunjin takes a breath and smiles, nodding small. “One of my favourites…”
“Wait, really?” Jisung gapes, pausing for a moment. It makes Hyunjin flush. Why?! “Wow, can’t believe I landed that... Should tots try for the lottery this week.”
Hyunjin giggles softly, which, for some reason, seems to make Jisung pause again. “Do you sing, too? You did well in the bathroom with Bo Burnham. Very different genre, though.”
“Lucky you, I only sing for special people,” Jisung jokes.
“Save your breath, I'm not special at all,” Hyunjin huffs.
“Well, you already know what I sound like so might as well,” Jisung scoffs, fingering through the strings of his guitar once again to play ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. “If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone I would have asked you…”
Hyunjin smiles and hums softly, ears red in embarrassment. Jisung keeps playing without singing , like he’s expecting Hyunjin to fall into song with him, and Hyunjin puffs and huffs a breath as he accepts his fate. He can’t sing loudly, lest embarrassment eat him alive, but he hopes it’s good enough.
“It’s the kind of cold that fogs up windshield glass, and I felt it when I passed you,” he sings, and pouts. “There’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me…”
“But if it’s all the same to you,” Jisung goes on, “It’s the same to me.” He glances up and then breathes in as if to lead Hyunjin into the chorus, and they sort of sing it together, Jisung making a mistake at some point and making a face so funny Hyunjin giggles again. He hasn’t felt both this light and embarrassed in… ever, probably. And it gets exponentially worse when Jisung says, “You have a nice voice.”
“Shut up,” Hyunjin says so seriously it makes him laugh. “Seriously, though, shush…”
Jisung frowns in obvious confusion but smiles either way, perking up when his mother calls them both down for dinner. She said ‘boys’. And it’s like Hyunjin is a kid once again, somewhere between twelve and thirteen, staying at a friend’s house.
Once at the table, Hyunjin sits down not knowing what to expect. But he’s served a good amount of curry, rivalring only Jisung’s own share, and then gets asked about nearly everything, except the usual. Nobody asks him or mentions his swimming, they don’t bring up college, and they don’t ask him about his girlfriend. Instead, he gets bombarded with questions about Kkami, his very big house, his favourite country and favourite food.
Half-way through dinner, they probably know more about the current Hyunjin Hwang than his actual parents do.
“You work from home, then?” Hyunjin asks Elena.
“Most of the time, yes,” she says.
Hyunjin smiles. “It’s your voice that Kkami barks at sometimes, I’ve noticed. He must know it from how often you’re home.”
“Ay, that’s adorable,” she coos, her eyes going all misty suddenly. She’s so… genuine and open with her emotions, it’s very admirable. To Hyunjin at least, not to his parents. “You should bring him next time.”
Hyunjin glances at Jisung, who’s busy shoving a spoonful of rice and curry into his mouth. “Sure…” Hyunjin smiles, and the topic somehow turns into a conversation about pets.
Apparently, Jisung had a hamster named Mr. Cheeks (adorable), but it passed away two years ago. It was a tiny Russian dwarf hamster, and Jisung shows Hyunjin some old pictures of it. It nearly makes Hyunjin tear up to think of that tiny, adorable creature not being around anymore.
“You should get another one,” Hyunjin pouts. “They’re so cute…”
Jisung shrugs. “Maybe, when I stop being emotionally attached to the other one. I think I’d be sad if I got a new one and it wasn’t as docile as the last one.”
“I remember it used to just sit in his hair,” Zoe coos. “It never tried to run away or anything. Poor thing…”
“Ugh, you’re making emo about my dead hamster, shush,” Jisung complains.
“Sorry, mi hijo ,” Elena says, patting at his shoulder. She looks to Hyunjin, then, smiling something kind. “Would you like some dessert? I’m sure we have some ice-cream or—”
Hyunjin’s brain cuts off then, as he hears the sound of his parents’ car pulling into the driveway next door. He practically shoots up, dragging the chair behind him and making everyone look up at him with big eyes, the moms looking particularly concerned. Jisung seems to be the first one to catch up.
“The back,” he says, standing up as well, “I’ll give you a lift.” He scoops a spoonful of rice into his mouth to fill his cheek and then pushes Hyunjin out towards the backdoor. “Go, go!”
“Ah—Thank you!” Hyunjin calls back to the dining room.
“You’re welcome!” Zoe says.
Outside, the chill weather makes Hyunjin’s skin erupt in goosebumps. He can hear the doors of his parents’ car being slammed shut, his father’s voice echoing through the back as he mentions something about the backseat of the car.
Jisung rushes to the fence and leans his back against it, lacing his fingers together and leaning down for Hyunjin to use him as a lift. Hyunjin’s chest is full of all kinds of emotions, and he’s fully aware that a large part of him wants to just… stay here, despite how nervous it makes him. He ignores all that, though, using Jisung as a lift over the fence.
Landing on the other side is actually easier and quieter than Hyunjin expected. When he glances back over his shoulder, though, he sees Jisung peeking over, just hair and eyes.
“Thanks, by the way,” Jisung whispers.
“For what?”
“The flowers, and the company. It made them happy.”
Hyunjin smiles, and his heart jumps again at the sound of a door opening, so he just gives Jisung a small wave before jogging to the back door, quickly unlocking it to slip in and sneak upstairs.
Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious...
JISUNG
Jisung helps his mothers with the dishes and then goes back to his bedroom while they take their spots in the living room to watch their show together right before bed. Jisung’s phone is on his desk, and he stares at it for a moment before walking towards it. From the living room, his moms talk about Hyunjin in whispers they can’t muffle.
“He’s such a nice kid,” Ma says. “I feel sorry for him…”
“Me, too… And with all those things he talked about, he’s probably so busy. He seemed so shy about it, though…”
“ Ah, sí… Still can’t believe he gave us lesbian flowers. I’m bisexual, but it felt mean to let him know.”
“I get the feeling he’d have driven to the store then and there for pink, blue and purple flowers,” Mom chuckles.
“Right?!”
Jisung huffs a laugh and shakes his head. He turns around to walk to his couch and then lets himself plop before letting himself fall back onto the pillows. He considers his phone for a moment before deciding to go for it. This isn’t how I imagined today would go, at all…
He waits for more, but Hyunjin doesn’t send anything else.
“Oh, there he goes,” Ma says, and Jisung knows they’re talking about Hyunjin jogging. Welp.
Jisung lets his phone fall to the side and then sighs. He promised himself he’d let this go, so he should let this go. And if he needed any incentive, today should be enough. Hyunjin is trouble; not because of who he is but because of all that comes attached to him. And Jisung has a strange feeling about him that he can’t really pin-point, but it’s something his self-preservation is keen he pays attention to.“Ugh,” Jisung groans. But he’s so fucking pretty!