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Hyunjin is no stranger to attention in clubs and bars. Some buy him drinks, some ask for a dance. But this—
“Please, marry me. Or I can… hip… I can be whatever you want me to be,” the guy says, looking up from his place at Hyunjin's feet. “And I can, like… hip… get a job and buy you things forever. Hip. A house.”
“Jesus, Jeongin. Is this really how you plan on wooing him?” His friend sighs, still trying to pull him back up by the neck of his shirt. He simply won't budge, no matter how hard he tugs. “By telling him you're unemployed?”
“And clearly desperate,” Jeongin's other friend adds, swirling the straw in his cocktail without offering any help.
Jeongin bats the hands that have been pestering him out of the way, peeling his eyes off of Hyunjin to stare at the other two men with a drunken frown. “I told you I… hip… have an interview this week.”
— this is definitely new.
Hyunjin was leaning against the bar, people-watching out of boredom and yet somehow he still failed to spot Jeongin making a beeline for him. Messy blonde hair, glasses slipping down his nose. He seemed to have just spawned like a dove from a magician's sleeve, spat out by the sea of people right in Hyunjin's face.
Jeongin missed the edge of the counter when he tried regaining his footing, almost smashing his face in. Hyunjin gasped, hands shooting out to steady him, and Jeongin went down like a puppet with its strings cut the second they touched. He wobbled even while on his knees, hands clasped under his chin as he slurred a rushed proposal for the most beautiful being on Earth— his words, not Hyunjin's.
The hiccups started halfway through, a minute or so before Jeongin’s friends found them and started apologizing on his behalf. He drank too much, he's not usually like this, we'll get him out of your way. Jeongin hasn't moved an inch, though, be it out of sheer will or spilled alcohol rendering the floor as sticky as the strongest glue. Hyunjin still doesn't know how to feel about the whole thing.
“I’m, like… speechless,” Hyunjin admits, addressing Jeongin's somewhat sober friends rather than the man himself, because he's still chanting please, please, please under his breath like he'll miss his chance if he doesn't beg exactly 100 times. “This has never happened to me before.”
“Yeah, because it's not normal,'' one of them says, bending down to stress his words straight into Jeongin's ear. All he gets is a side-eye. “You can still walk out of this bar with a shred of dignity left if we leave right now, Iyen-ah.”
Friend 2 clicks his tongue. “Don't lie to the kid, Jisungie. It's too late and we will never respect him again.”
“Minho hyung,” Jisung whines. “You’re not helping at all!”
Minho rolls his eyes and finally acts, landing a whack to the back of Jeongin’s head. Totally different approach. “Get up, weirdo. You don't even know this guy.”
“I know he's… hip… the love of my life,” Jeongin argues, eyes shining as they stare into Hyunjin's. The craziest thing is that he sounds like he means it. “I can feel the butterflies in— hip! Oof. In my belly.”
Jisung pales. “Do not puke on a stranger's shoes, oh my God.”
Hyunjin can't help it— he giggles, bright and loud. Maybe it's because he, too, had a bit too much to drink, but he's not as put off by Jeongin's boldness as he should be. Truth is it'd be hard to deny that he's blushing, endeared by the needy pout Jeongin's mouth has been stuck in since the first plea rolled off his tongue.
Jeongin grins, all pride and all teeth, when he hears him laugh. No hiccup interrupts him as he confesses, “I love you.”
Hyunjin shakes his head, biting his bottom lip to fight back a smile. “No, you don't.”
He's not bad-looking, either. Far from it. A mixture of sharp and soft features that fit like puzzle pieces to make up a ridiculously too-handsome face. Defined jaw, bunched up cheeks. Perfect nose and warm, brown eyes. Hyunjin would've walked up to him first if he'd caught a glimpse of him earlier, he thinks. No, he's sure. Physically, Jeongin is just his type.
Plus, if drunks don't lie, it seems he'd be quite the devoted lover; pulled out from the most hopelessly romantic of dreams— Hyunjin's, specifically. He’s always said that relationships need a healthy dose of obsession to work. Loyalty, he calls it. Something you need to discuss in therapy, Seungmin insists. Blah, blah, blah. He's such a hater.
Jeongin frowns, almost offended. “I wouldn't ask you to… hip…. marry me if I didn't.”
He's so cute it’s fucking distracting. Worse yet— it's convincing. All of a sudden, Hyunjin's hands itch to cradle his pretty face, drag the pad of his thumb over his cheeks so he can witness the pink growing darker. Jeongin may be the one begging to put a ring on it, but for a brief moment Hyunjin's the one considering saying yes. To a stranger he just met.
The scale of insanity tips against him.
“I can't accept,” Hyunjin says instead, busying his fingers with the chain on his jeans in case they decide to act on their own and slide a ring on. “If I get engaged without my mom knowing, she'll kill me.”
He's not even trying to be funny— that's just the truth. She's already decided that, come the fateful day her only son decides to build a life together with his forever man, she'll probably be filming and crying from her hiding spot behind some bush. She has to be, because it's gonna look perfect in the wedding video, as she insists, teary-eyed. Like Hyunjin's not watching EXchange with her on a Saturday night, miles away from married life.
Jeongin's eyes widen, solution on the tip of his drunken tongue. “We can call her,” he stutters.
“We?” Hyunjin echoes, chuckling again. Waking his mother up at three AM and passing the phone to Jeongin sounds like the ultimate recipe for chaos. The mere idea of it pulls another laugh from him. “What would you even say?”
“Well, I'd ask for your hand,” Jeongin says, like it's obvious. He hiccups for the nth time. “Like a gentleman. Which I am.”
“You're shameless. And my mom will think you're crazy. This is—” Hip, he hears. Hyunjin cuts himself off with a shake of his head, stepping closer to the counter to order a bottle of water instead.
He pulls two stools out when the bartender sets it in front of him, ice cubes clinking inside the glass that comes with. When he looks back at Jeongin, he finds him right where he left him, pouting at the few inches added to the distance between them. God. Maybe the loose screw is mine, Hyunjin muses.
Jeongin's friends definitely seem to think so, judging by the way their eyes bulge when he grabs Jeongin's wrist and gently tugs, pulling him up and on his feet. “Sit with me, hm?”
Jeongin stumbles in his rush to obey, almost knocking the seat over with his hip. Without looking, he gestures behind him for Jisung and Minho to leave. Give them some space now that his pathetic little cries got him this far— further than they should've, statistically. Common-sense-ly. Hyunjin offers a smile as well, to help them rest assured that their friend truly isn't bothering him, just making his night infinitely more interesting.
“It’s okay,” he says, twisting the cap and pouring a glassful. Jeongin watches him move with a dopey look in his eyes, like Hyunjin's already at the altar and not merely fulfilling his civilian duties by helping him stay hydrated. “I’m honestly entertained. I can handle him for a bit.”
Jeongin clicks his tongue. “Marriage isn’t for a bit.”
“I never said yes, did I?” Hyunjin teases, pushing the water closer to him. “Drink up. You need it.”
Jeongin wraps his fingers around it with a slight frown, not too happy with Hyunjin's reminder. “Hmph.”
“We'll stay close,” Minho says, lifting his drink up in a friendly good-luck wish. “Just knee his balls if he gets too annoying.”
Jeongin is too busy committing Hyunjin's side profile to memory to even process the betrayal. Jisung, an actual friend, pinches Minho’s nape on his behalf and evokes a groan of pain followed by a sorry. He seems more reluctant to leave but, apparently also a boyfriend, eventually finds himself giving in to the pull of Minho's arm around his waist.
“We'll pick him up after a few songs and drag his ass home,” he swears with a hand over his heart. Minho nods, putting his glass up again in his own version of intertwined pinkies. “Promise!”
Jeongin continues his streak of incredibly mature responses with a whiny, “Nuh-uh.”
“Drink up,” Hyunjin insists. Jeongin sticks his tongue out at him before finally bringing the glass up to his lips. Hyunjin feigns a gasp. “That’s no way of treating your husband!”
“You didn't say yes, did you?” Jeongin throws his words back at him with a smirk, too tipsy to count as smug. This time, Hyunjin's disbelief is very much real.
“You're a brat,” he laughs. Jeongin grins, like it's a compliment, and takes another huge gulp. Dumbass. He's gonna start hiccuping again. “My mom will never give you her blessing with that attitude.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes and dismisses Hyunjin's hypothetical worries with a casual flick of his wrist.
“Moms love me. Grandmas, too,” he adds on, in case there's a second surprise call he needs to make. “I volunteer at bingo nights and they always try to set me up with their grand-daughters.”
Hyunjin pictures Jeongin gossiping with the elderly as he fills their cups with coffee or tea, yelling numbers up to three times so everyone can hear. He probably wanders between tables telling awful jokes too, complimenting hairdos and lying to someone's grandpa about wanting to grow a mustache just like his. It's adorable to think of, even if it's not the real thing.
It can't be that far off, if he managed to charm Hyunjin in his current state— of course he can do the same with old ladies and gents, sober. Hyunjin would go as far as to guess that it's probably the grand-daughters themselves who beg their grandparents to talk to him about dating into the family. Gorgeous, polite and soft-hearted, from what it seems. Quite literally bingo made man.
It's ridiculous, having to take a deep breath in and cling to logic so his face won't twist into a childish scowl. These are made-up scenarios of a guy that probably gets shit faced weekly, his brain supplies. Does it matter? He's here and begging for you, his heart adds. Reason tastes bitter from both sides.
Hyunjin tries to act normal. Above it. Obviously joking when he asks: “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“I never say yes,” Jeongin immediately denies, with words and also a quick shake of his head. “I wouldn't do that to you.”
Hyunjin feels his face burn, his heart melt through his ribs. Suddenly, the roof of his mouth is sticky sweet. “Jeongin, you met me twenty minutes ago.”
(It helps mask the tang of hypocrisy).
“I've dreamed of you for longer,” Jeongin says.
Hiccups subdued, there's no more interruptions to soften the blow of his bold confessions. This time, it hits like a truck.
Hyunjin goes red from neck to forehead. Oftentimes, he's told about his own beauty from an outsider's point of view. Your lips, hair, hands. Plump, shiny, elegant. He only deems it genuine when it comes from the photographers and brands that hire him for ads— he has to be exactly what they're looking for, after all. Smooth skin, healthy nails. Even then, Hyunjin's a product just like the ones he's paid to model all the time.
Nothing more, nothing less.
“Liar,” Hyunjin says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It comes out weak. Bashful.
Jeongin chuckles lightly, stretching one arm across the counter and resting his head on it with a dreamy sigh. “Mmh, but it's true. You're too special to forget.”
Jeongin’s compliments are different. He doesn't say it like he's picking Hyunjin out amongst options, but rather as if he were the only person in the room. Alcohol gave him the courage, but the sentiment seems to have settled long before it took over; brewing in his brain, slowly gaining shape. Maybe a few hours back. Maybe really in dreams, like Jeongin claims.
It's not sleazy, either. Almost the opposite— closer to lovely, the kind of flirting Hyunjin hasn't experienced in a bit. When men approach him, nine out of ten times they want to bed him and hop to the next, so they never dig deeper than a recycled you're beautiful, baby. Yawn. Sometimes, Hyunjin entertains them merely for the free drinks.
If they tried hard enough, maybe they'd get better results. None of them got down on one knee in front of a crowd and begged without shame for Hyunjin to marry them. Jeongin did, and now the chances of Hyunjin kissing him tenderly under the moonlight are exponentially higher. Possibly too real. Definitely going to happen.
“Thank you, Jeongin,” he says, with a slight head tilt and a smile. Simple, but still his best hook— they always, always bite. “That’s really sweet of you.”
Jeongin doesn't try to hide the shiver that runs up his spine, leaning into it and shaking his upper body like a wet dog instead. “Whew. Say my name again?”
“Jeongin,” Hyunjin repeats, deliberately slow paced. He maintains direct eye contact with him, lips curving into a teasing grin the moment Jeongin interrupts a deep breath with a gulp. It makes an actual noise, like in cartoons. “If you still remember me after the hangover, ask me on a date.”
It takes a second to register. Jeongin sits up straight, eyes wide open. “Wha— seriously?”
“Mhm,” Hyunjin nods, drawing idle circles on the wooden counter with his middle finger. Jeongin's eyes drop down to follow the movement. “And if that goes well, I might consider thinking about marrying you.”
Jeongin rakes his hands through his already messed up hair, looking into the crowd and then back at Hyunjin's face. He frowns. “... Seriously?”
Hyunjin chuckles. “Yes, seriously.”
“Wow. My friends had no faith in me,” Jeongin says, face smoothing over and into curious reflection. He jabs his thumb right in the center of his chest. “I had no faith in me.”
“You should've,” Hyunjin shrugs, propping his elbow on the bar and resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. He kicks Jeongin's stool playfully, then hooks his ankle on the lower footrests. “You look cute when you beg.”
“Oh,” Jeongin breathes. He tugs at his shirt's collar, shoots for his glass of water and finds out it's empty only when it’s already grazing his mouth. He clears his throat, blush climbing up his neck. “That’s… good to know. I'll— yeah. For you, more often. All the time.”
Hyunjin laughs through his nose, shoulders shaking with it. Oh, he could eat him right up. “I'll pretend that made sense.”
“Ha. Thanks,” Jeongin says, like a loser; just how Hyunjin likes them, apparently. He places a hand on his stomach and smiles, nervously small. It's still enough for his dimples to show. “I'm so excited I could throw up.”
They giggle together, because it's supposed to be a joke. Jeongin's trying to process an array of liquids and alcoholic percentages at once, oscillating between upset and only somewhat stable tummy as the night progresses. It's on theme, an I'm drunk… on you kind of thing. Hyunjin thinks it's the right amount of corny to be endearing rather than off-putting.
Then Jeongin’s beam wobbles, and the barely-there grip on his shirt becomes a full clutch. Panicked. Scared.
“Ah,” he says, quickly closing his mouth and slapping his other hand over it. The rest of his words come out muffled, but Hyunjin catches them anyway. “I'm gonna throw up.”
He jumps out of the seat before Hyunjin can react, stumbling away from the bar. Hyunjin pushes off his own stool with a gasp, trailing after him without a doubt. He catches up as Jeongin battles with a particularly stubborn friend group who stares up and down instead of giving him space, so he wraps his fingers around the back of Jeongin's neck and glares.
“Are you being serious?” Hyunjin spits, tapping his left temple to emphasize their lack of brains. Jeongin tugs on a belt loop, and Hyunjin rubs his thumb soothingly along his pulse point. “He's not feeling well, assholes. Move.”
They comply, but Hyunjin still gives them the middle finger as he and Jeongin make it through. People can be so nasty sometimes— what for? He hopes someone dumps a full tray of drinks on a few of them by the end of the night.
“I’ll take you to the bathroom, okay?” Hyunjin says, leaning closer to Jeongin's ear. His fingers continue tracing patterns on his skin, hoping they do enough to keep him calm. “Just… focus on making it there?”
Jeongin nods. Even breathing in too deep feels dangerous. “Mhm.”
Hyunjin guides him in record time, slithering skillfully through the crowd and using his boney elbows where needed. As soon as they're in, Jeongin runs to the furthest stall from the door and pushes it open, dropping to his knees so he can immediately unload into the toilet. Hyunjin winces and grabs a few paper towels before approaching him again.
One hand gripping the bowl, the other pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose every now and then. Hyunjin dares to wander in, careful not to step on Jeongin's legs, and pinches the temples to slide them off completely. Jeongin acknowledges the gesture with a brief thumbs up and then doubles over again, busying himself trying to aim in.
Hyunjin arranges the towels on top of the tank and gently folds the glasses closed, holding onto them for him. Jeongin pukes, takes a break to whine and groan in frustration, then vomits again. Eventually, with a tinge of pity, Hyunjin gives in to the pull that urges him to tuck Jeongin's hair behind his ears and pat the top of his head comfortingly.
Jeongin flinches under his touch and sniffs. “I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing.”
“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Hyunjin starts, lips twitching. They both know how Jeongin looks, heaving his guts inside out after scoring a date. “It kind of is.”
“Yeah, shit. What the fuck,” Jeongin matches the tone, laughing at his own expense, but it's there and gone the next second. His face quickly twists into a grimace— the night isn't over, yet it's already haunting him. “This is sobering me up. I want to die.”
“Please not while you're in my care,” Hyunjin says, tugging faintly on the baby hairs on Jeongin's nape.
Jeongin gags, then coughs out a bunch of saliva that he spits into the toilet bowl. “Oh, this is gross,” he cries. “Why are you still here?”
“Hm?” Hyunjin widens his working area to the space between Jeongin's shoulder blades, running a knuckle up and down. “What do you mean?”
“You should've kicked me to the curb from the start,” Jeongin argues, dragging his gaze up to meet Hyunjin's eyes. His own are red and puffy, watery with a layer of unshed tears. “This has to be the worst night out of your life.”
“Are you kidding me? I met my husband,” Hyunjin quips, grinning big and kind. He drops to a squat, folding his arms atop his knees. “Imagine the disappointment if I'd stayed home.”
Jeongin looks away, clings better to the toilet bowl. Hyunjin tenses, preparing for another wave of sickness, but it doesn't come. In its place, a weak apology slips out instead.
“I'm sorry.”
Hyunjin sighs. “Jeongin, it's okay.”
“I don't believe you,” Jeongin says. His eyebrows knit together into a frown. “Or— it shouldn't be. I'm a creep, and a loser.”
“You're drunk,” Hyunjin reminds him.
He shakes his head, running from the easy excuse. “That doesn't erase the other two.”
Silence reigns, a leaking faucet and a faulty toilet in the next stall the only noise to break through. Hyunjin wants to bring up how he never demanded anything and instead waited for a yes before he even thought of standing up in Hyunjin's presence. How creeps notoriously never regret being creeps, but Jeongin began beating himself up as soon as his neurons jumped back into synapses.
Hyunjin answers his original question by going straight to the point. “I'm here because I want to,” he says, firmly so Jeongin knows not to start again. “Because I do think you're a good guy, even if it sounds crazy to you.”
Jeongin retches, a fleeting forewarning before he's vomiting again. Luckily, the worst is over and done, and this time it's not as aggressive as the first rushes hit— just a little exhausting. Hyunjin scrunches his nose and holds Jeongin's glasses up by the bridge, waving them in the small space left between them.
“And you need someone to keep your glasses safe while you puke,” he says.
The corners of Jeongin's mouth lift only a bit. He reaches for the paper towels Hyunjin left for him in advance and taps the handle to flush his mess into oblivion. Thud— he sways to the side and lands on his butt, throwing his head back against the stall’s dividing wall. Hyunjin taps his fingers on his leg as Jeongin wipes his lips with what he's got, going over thrice.
It should be gross. Hyunjin's just really glad to see Jeongin's face getting some of its color back so soon.
“Jeongin?” A voice calls, frantic and breathy. Hyunjin clocks it as Jisung's in a heartbeat. “Hello?”
Hyunjin holds onto the doorframe and peeks out, calling them over with a tilt of his head. “In here!”
Jisung almost trips over his feet, rushing toward the cubicle they've claimed as their own. He takes one look at Jeongin, limp and with his eyes closed, and brings a hand up to his heart as he gasps.
“Oh, my baby,” he says, with enough feeling to momentarily convince Hyunjin that he really birthed him.
Jeongin cracks an eye open, looking ready to barf again. “Ew.”
Hyunjin sneaks out without being asked to, knowing Jisung's buzzing to properly come in. Immediately, he squeezes Jeongin's cheeks and turns his head left and right, searching for—
“Jisung thought you’d kidnapped him,” Minho explains, probably reading the huge question mark on his face. “I said you didn't look like you had it in you.”
— signs of struggle?
There was no time for a heads-up when Jeongin bolted away from the bar, but he gets Jisung's concern. Hyunjin wasn't entirely trustworthy then, and it wouldn't make sense for him to have a change of heart now.
At least Minho had some faith in him… or a lack thereof in his criminal skills.
“Thanks, I guess,” Hyunjin says, hugging himself as he shivers. There's a vent on the roof that has allowed the cold night breeze to consistently slink through, but it hadn't done much damage until he took a step back from Jeongin's surprisingly steady warmth. “No, uh. He suddenly felt sick, so I brought him here as fast as I could, and then he gained enough consciousness to feel shame while throwing up.”
Minho cackles at the recap. “I bet.”
“Yeah, he barely wants me here now,” Hyunjin says, puckered mouth twisted to the side.
He can't lie to himself: it stung a bit (just the tiniest bit!) for Jeongin to insist so much on him leaving when minutes before he was begging for the opposite thing. Something you need to discuss in therapy, Seungmin's voice echoes in the back of his mind, because it's his favorite thing to say to him. Hyunjin shakes his head to shut the mini version of his best friend that lives in him right up.
Minho pats him on the shoulder a few times. “Nothing personal, just the unavoidable horrors of his own actions.”
It gets him to crack a smile.
In the background, Jeongin is still fighting off Jisung's concerned interrogation with tooth and nail, citing a headache and then full on plugging his ears when it doesn't work. Minho joins in with the last straw, a teasing remark about getting too old for this kind of rodeos that Jeongin answers to with a classy,
“Please, shut the fuck up.”
He rubs his eyes and then drags a finger up his nose, bumping against the space between his eyebrows with a start. Blinks. Hyunjin realizes he's still got Jeongin's glasses with him and rapidly steps forward, wiggling both himself and a whispered apology between Minho and Jisung to hand them back. Their fingers brush, and static feeds an electric shock that bursts the moment they touch. Startled, they jerk away.
Jeongin clears his throat, awkward, and slides his glasses into place. Hyunjin cradles his zapped limb against his chest, thumb rubbing circles on his inner wrist. Wide-eyed and red-faced, both of them.
Jisung and Minho share a look.
“Uhm. They kept slipping, so…” Hyunjin says, just to fill in the lull in conversation with something. Jisung's cocked eyebrow is the only acknowledgement he gets, and it's worse than going ignored.
Minho takes mercy on everyone present and claps his hands, sealing the moment shut. “Alright,” he chirps, rolling his sleeves up and gripping Jeongin's hand tight. “Up you go.”
Jisung loops an arm around Jeongin's waist and fits his shoulder under his armpit, helping him stand straight from the other side. Jeongin insists he doesn't need the theatrics, so Minho makes him stumble on purpose with a nudge to the back of his left knee as a fabricated excuse to stay wrapped around him. See, Iyen-ah? You can barely walk! Jeongin complains and calls him a cheater, but still leans more into his friends’ support step by step.
Hyunjin opens the bathroom door and watches them attempt to fit through with his lips pressed into a tight line, fighting back a laugh. Jisung wails every time Jeongin steps on his foot, and Minho shoves back and forth without waiting for the others to sync up, which hinders their strategy— if there is one at all. Jeongin throws his head back, looking as if he were trying to hide a smile of his own, and lets them work it out by themselves.
The crowd is still as dense as when they left it behind. Hyunjin takes on the task of creating a wide enough opening for the trio, waving his arms in front of himself and stealing brief glances over his shoulder to make sure they're keeping up. Jeongin avoids his eyes any way possible, jumping from the floor to the ceiling and to the faces that blur past. Minho rolls his eyes. Mouths: nothing personal.
Out in the parking lot, Hyunjin's the one that needs guiding. Jisung and Minho make a beeline for their car, Jeongin in the middle, and Hyunjin follows their trail in silence. When they get there, Jeongin plops horizontally in the backseat, legs out, and kicks at Jisung as he tries to push him all the way in. In the end, Minho threatening to close the door on him is what gets him to roll back with a squeak.
For the second time in the night, Hyunjin marvels at the dynamics in the group; how easy and comfortable it seems to be when they're in each other's orbit. It's cute. Relieving— Jeongin's friends will get him home safe. Is it stupid of him to need some kind of reassurance, when Minho and Jisung are the ones who've known him a lifetime? Definitely. Just as it is to have grown attached at all.
(He tapes mini-Seungmin’s mouth shut to kindly help him abstain from putting in his two cents).
Hyunjin taps Minho's shoulder before he can get into the driver's side. “Can I give you my number?” he wonders, arms crossed over his chest to shield himself from the chill. Slutty outfits are always good in theory, and a pain in the ass in practice.
“Oh,” Minho blinks, lightning quick and in a stunned row. He juts his thumb in the general direction of the car. “I have my Jisung.”
“Oh. Not like that, just…” Hyunjin shakes his head with a laugh. The sudden puff of air leaves a trace of warm smoke that dissipates into the night. “I'd appreciate it if you could let me know Jeongin got home okay.”
“Ah!” Minho lights up. He fishes his phone out from the leg pocket in his cargos and puts his password in. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”
Hyunjin taps the right digits and saves himself as Hyunjin Club. “And maybe this is also so he can… have it?” he shrugs, playing casual. Minho scans the brand new contact info and nods. “Use it, hopefully.”
Minho blinks, looks back at the vehicle. Hyunjin spots him at the same time he does: Jeongin, with half his head out of the back window in order to spy what's been holding his friend up. He goes red when they catch him, especially because Minho waves, and bumps his head on the top edge as he burrows away from their eyes. Slowly, the glass starts to go up again.
Minho turns to face him. “How the fuck did that work on you?”
Hyunjin laughs, heart full. “It just did.”
.
Hyunjin is shoving his keys in the lock when his phone buzzes with a text. He forces himself to wait until he's fully bed-comfy, tight clothes and make up off, before opening the chat.
Unknown
[Image]
honk shoo
Jeongin, sheets tucked around his curled shape. Jisung's caught in frame leaning in to plant a big smooch on his cheek, seizing the chance now that he's drooling peacefully on his pillow. Hyunjin bites his bottom lip, amused— if Jeongin ever finds out about this, Minho will have to learn how to deal with the cold shoulder.
Hyunjin
a mimir
Another photo, this time a selfie of Jisung and Minho’s faces glued to each other under the covers. Only their eyes and nose remain visible over the hem.
Jeongin's Minho
[Image]
two mimir
good night, Hyunjin Club!!!
Hyunjin
ahahah
good night!!!
Hyunjin chuckles to himself, plugs his phone in, and dozes off with his cheeks stretching to make room for a smile.
.
A week flies past.
Friday night, Hyunjin gets to his mother's house for their routine reality-show binge watch with his mood almost touching the sole of his feet. He waited patiently for the first three days, but he's been stuck with a permanent pout since the fourth. Hyunjin thought there'd been a spark— an energetic connection. That Jeongin wouldn't waste a week in absolute radio silence after Hyunjin gave him the green light to truly ask him out.
“Come on, come on— turn that frown upside down! It's your turn to pick tonight!” His mom drops the remote controlo n his hands and bends down to kiss his temple. “I'll go make us some popcorn.”
Heart Signal. Maybe Minho forgot to give Jeongin his number. Should he check? Single’s Inferno. Maybe Minho didn't forget, and Jeongin just doesn't care enough to text Hyunjin at all. I Am Solo— seems quite fitting. Hyunjin clicks on the first episode and hits pause to wait for his mom and the snacks, then slumps against the backrest of the couch with a sigh.
Stupid, lying Jeongin. Stupid Hyunjin who lets himself hope and never learns the lesson. Stupid Pinterest app that keeps suggesting wedding themes to him and laughing in his fucking face.
“Hyunjinnie! Someone's texting you!”
Stupid heart, thumping excitedly against Hyunjin's rib cage as he zooms to the kitchen for his phone, left forgotten on the counter. His mom takes note of such a quick reaction but stays waiting for their microwavable popcorn to beep instead of prodding for details. She'll get them, anyways. Hyunjin can never keep things from her for too long.
Jeongin's Minho
👤 Yang Jeongin
he refuses to text u
thinks he should change his name and move countries instead
pls convince him otherwise
Stupid, cowardly Jeongin. Hyunjin shoots Minho a sticker of a kitten holding its head mid yell and then clicks on the number shared, saving it just as Minho sent it. Yang Jeongin. He'll get the personalized-contact-name treatment only if he's man enough to pick up Hyunjin's call, whenever it comes.
In ten minutes, maybe… but it's kinda late. He's more likely to get an actual response tomorrow, so he'll wait… perhaps a week, to make Jeongin pay. No— Hyunjin's never been a vengeful type of person. That's not like him. Fuck. Seems like he miscalculated, and taking the bull by its horns is actually harder (and scarier) than he originally thought.
Will he be man enough?
His mom rips the bag open and transfers it all into a proper bowl, steam swirling in the air. She pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth and yelps, desperately fanning herself. “Oh, ah— too hot.”
“You’re too impatient,” Hyunjin laughs.
“I’m driven,” she argues, index finger pointing at her son to signal he should carefully listen to a mother's words of wisdom. “Because if you want something, you should fight for it in the present.”
Wow. Okay. At this point, Hyunjin thinks it goes beyond maternal instincts— she's supernatural with her timing. He narrows his eyes at her, asks, “How do you always know what I'm going through?”
She doesn't answer. She never does. Instead, she starts to walk backwards into the living room while wiggling her fingers in front of her. “The past is already gone, and the future too uncertain.”
“Yeah, I got it,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes with a warm smile. He blows her a kiss. “Thanks, mom.”
She pumps a fist in the air, pivots to the TV. “Carpe diem!”
Hyunjin waits for her to be at an eavesdropping-safe distance before tapping his screen back to life. Yang Jeongin. His thumb hovers over the call button for an extra ten seconds, before he shakes off the last of his doubts and finally goes for it.
It rings. Hyunjin takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. On the exhale, he whispers to himself: “Carpe diem.”
Click.
“Hello?”
So this is how Jeongin sounds on a normal day. Steady, a little more high pitched than his tipsy or sickly speech. It's cute— how is everything about him so damned cute? Maybe Hyunjin's brain has already been altered beyond return, no cure other than Jeongin finally setting a day and time to save him.
He leans his hip against the counter, crosses his arm over his chest and one leg over the other. Between hi, it's Hyunjin and I don't know if you remember, but…, his traitorous brain chooses a secret third option that is irrevocably pronounced before it's done being processed.
“You know it's really rude to propose to someone and stand them up before they can even get to the altar?”
Silence, and then: “What?”
The joke flows by itself. “Like, what do I do with the dress now?”
On the other side of the line, Jeongin groans pitifully. “Hyunjin-ssi?” he deduces, as pieces of a shared night fall into place.
“I think we're past such formalities, at this point,” Hyunjin chuckles. “Hyung is okay.”
“Hyung,” Jeongin echoes. “Fuck, what I did… it was so not okay, dude. I'm…”
A full-bodied shudder wrecks Hyunjin's frame. That— absolutely not. “You know it's really rude to propose to someone and then call them dude?” he rephrases.
Silence, and then: “I'm confused.”
“It just doesn't sound good on the vows,” Hyunjin explains with a firm shake of his head, free hand waving left to right. No, no and no. “Go for the usual, like baby or honey. You can never go wrong with those.”
Jeongin stutters, incoherent. Hyunjin pictures his cheeks painted by splashes of pink, recalling the blush that stuck with him throughout the night, vibrant and telling of the several steps he'd taken past his drinking limit. How well it suited him, and how being the sole cause of it would definitely count as the ultimate reward, in Hyunjin's book.
He can't help it, wanting more of it. Hyunjin allows himself some more playfulness as a treat. “Maybe this is a bit outdated, but I'm not opposed to darling, either.”
“What's going on?” Jeongin finally asks, almost letting the rise and fall of whine slip into it. Hyunjin learns every little quirk of his, stores it for safekeeping. “Is this some kind of prank?”
Hyunjin bursts into laughter, caught off-guard. “No? It's a call!”
“A prank call.”
“A normal call,” Hyunjin insists. To prove his point: “Hi, Jeongin. How are you?”
“I'm… okay?” he intends to reply, even if it comes out as a question. He takes his time with his turns, left dangling and off balance every time Hyunjin opens his mouth. “Uhm, still cringing at myself. Permanently stuck with that face now, I think. What, uh— what about you?”
“Well, if I'm to be honest,” Hyunjin starts, not one for vendetta but very much one for the dramatics. He takes a deep breath, like it pains him to talk about it. “I'm a bit upset. I thought you would have texted by now.”
“I was… planning…” Jeongin drawls, probably an excuse in the making. He's not fast enough.
Hyunjin rolls his eyes and cuts in. “Your escape?”
Nothing. Hyunjin frowns and pulls the phone off his ear to check the call in case Jeongin has hung up, but he hasn't, so he guesses it's just his way of admitting defeat. He won't, and evidently can't, deny the truth.
“Ouch,” Hyunjin says, hand clutching his shirt right where his heart beats. “Whatever happened to in sickness and in health.”
“You never said yes!” Jeongin says. It's the most solid of his arguments, which also start and end there.
Maybe it's because Hyunjin spent a lot of time with him at the bar, face to face and falling for the happy pull of his mouth, but he can tell Jeongin speaks through a smile. It's contagious. Without realizing, he's grinning by himself with his thumbnail between his teeth. All that's missing in the picture is a little giggling and hair twirling— he'll do that later, when he inevitably goes over the conversation before bed.
“Never said no, either,” he counters. “I said you should ask me on a date first. Will you?”
“You were serious?”
God, he's dense. Hyunjin wants him so bad it's starting to get ridiculous. “Like I told you the first three times, yes. Will you?”
“I was… a mess,” Jeongin says, looking back in time again. Over and over, but the past is already gone, Hyunjin thinks. “I had no filter, and I puked everything I consumed, and I told you about my— my unemployment, God.”
Hyunjin perks up. “How'd the interview go?
“You remember that?” Jeongin asks, a hint of surprise laced in his tone. Hyunjin merely hums, because telling him he remembers every little thing sounds a bit much, even for him. “I haven't heard back from them yet.”
Hyunjin pouts. “I'm sure they'll call, don't worry.”
“Thanks you, that's… nice. You're really nice, I—” Jeongin sighs, stops to arrange his thoughts. “I know why you gave Minho your number for me, and why you called tonight.”
Hyunjin turns, leaning on his elbows instead. He sways forward on his tippy toes, then drops back down. “But?”
“I was being honest about the constant cringing. I think I'm even getting wrinkles from it,” Jeongin says, dead-serious. Like he genuinely believes sooner or later his features will get stuck. “You’re beautiful, and I puked and cried and you were there to see the whole thing— you can't see me, but I'm cringing right now, too.”
Hyunjin clings to the rushed compliment with both hands, holds it against his chest. “You think I'm beautiful?”
“You know I do,” Jeongin breathes out softly. “You're a pipe dream, and I don't see why you would want me to ask you out after the show I put on that night.”
“Because you were sweet, and you made me laugh, and…” Hyunjin lists, frustrated by the endless running in circles they seem to be trapped in. Jeongin thinks he needs some kind of prerequisites, as if it were another picky job interview. He couldn't be more wrong— Hyunjin knew from the start. “And I keep thinking about bingo night. That's so fucking cute.”
The last part pulls a startled laugh out of Jeongin. “Really? Bingo night?”
“Please tell me you call out the numbers,” Hyunjin says, fingers crossed on both hands. “I've been wondering all week.”
“I do,” Jeongin says, still chuckling at Hyunjin's enthusiastic curiosity. “Three times, so I can make sure everyone heard. Sometimes I'm in charge of the afternoon snacks, though.”
Hyunjin melts. Turns out the perfect, most attentive bingo boy Jeongin was in his imagination is the same as the real version, and he wasn't just half in love with an idea— a risk he's used to assuming when quick infatuation knocks on his door. Does Jeongin nudge his glasses up before he makes the announcement, plays with the frames as he reads? Ugh.
Hyunjin doesn't know how much more he can take without kissing his nerdy face silly. But he was the one who told Jeongin he wanted a date, and called about it after getting ghosted for a week. If it happens, he doesn't want it to stem from one-sided interest. If it happens, it'll be because Jeongin wants it just as bad.
“I lied. This is a self-destructive call. It won't happen again, so whatever you'll make of it is on you,” Hyunjin says, licking over his lips.
He glances at his mom over his shoulder, and her freaky sixth sense tells her to turn her head at the same time. She sends him a double thumbs up, easing a bit of the tension between his shoulders. He smiles at her, big and grateful.
“And I won't beg,” he adds. “Because that's your thing.”
Jeongin laughs. He sounds less strained, more relaxed. Shy but eager when he finally, finally asks him to “Please, please, please go on a date with me.”
Hyunjin feels giddy, covered head to toe in splashes of warm, happy colors. Pollock-style. He fake cries into the line, pretending it's another proposal. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
When he tells his mom, she immediately tucks her feet under her legs and serves them both a glass of rosé. Mother-son bonding night turned animated gossip session, Hyunjin goes on and on about the guy he has a good feeling about.
Her freaky sixth sense backs him up.
.
Yang Jeongin
Edit
Jeongin ❤️
Done
.
Jeongin takes him to an arcade, where they blow all of their money into every machine available. Hyunjin scores an impressive number in Skee-ball, while Jeongin turns out to be surprisingly skilled at Flappy Bird. Together, with Jeongin's hands wrapped on top of his around the hammer, they make Whack-A-Mole a way more romantic activity than Hyunjin ever thought it could be— and add plenty of tickets to their pile in the process.
When they switch to competitive games, Hyunjin is unbeatable at Dance Dance Revolution. Jeongin gives up nearing the end of the song to lean against the support bar and watch Hyunjin nail every step instead, clapping and nodding appreciatively as the screen displays a breakdown of his performance. Hyunjin accepts it with a little curtsy, fingertips holding up his invisible long skirt.
As payback, Jeongin destroys him at Air Hockey. He's quick to anticipate Hyunjin's moves, sending the puck back to his side with short, hard hits that Hyunjin can barely react to in time. He scores a few points, but he's never remotely close to catching up, too busy trying to coordinate brain, arm and eyes because the latter insist on focusing on Jeongin's hands gripping the mallet at all times. Oops.
To celebrate his easy win, Jeongin runs a victory lap around the table and high-fives a random kid that stood by the sidelines to watch their match. Hyunjin giggles, and the pull on his cheeks hurts the tiniest bit— he doesn't think he's ever laughed so much and so genuinely on a date before. On the second lap, he stops Jeongin by the wrist and drags him to a different game, grin never leaving his face.
A The Walking Dead themed shooting game calls their attention, so they wait nearby for the teens currently playing to finish their turn. Hyunjin and Jeongin pick up the plastic guns and swipe their joint gamecard twice, falling deep into the story as soon as it starts. They have a few close calls with zombies jumping out of nowhere to attack them, but they manage to pull through in the end.
Until it progresses past the introductory chapter, and the level changes drastically.
“They’re too many!” Jeongin yells, waving his plastic gun from left to right and switching out tactics for pure luck. “Cover me, cover me!”
“I can't!” Hyunjin wishes he had two more eyes— where do these zombies keep coming from and how do they make it end? “They're on my side, too!”
“The barrel, shoot the barrel!”
Hyunjin does, and the explosion takes out a bunch of zombies and his character in the process. He stomps his feet and searches his pockets for the card, swipes it for the chance at revival that it promises and waits with his weapon loaded and aiming just in case. Jeongin struggles by himself in the meantime, making bullets rain as he yells incoherent sounds at the screen.
Nothing happens— the countdown's still there.
CONTINUE?
5
4
3
“What?” Hyunjin panics, swiping again. Insufficient funds, the reader notifies him. He gasps.
Jeongin starts to worry too, but his eyes never stray from the screen. “What? What happened?”
2
1
“I'm officially dead,” Hyunjin says, lowering his gun. “We have no money left.”
“I'm killing myself, then,” Jeongin decides, pulling his finger off the trigger.
Hyunjin yelps and launches at him, pointing the weapon back up. “No! Keep playing, I wanna see how far the story goes.”
“I'll die in ten seconds without you,” Jeongin argues, but does keep shooting where he can. Hyunjin places his hands on his shoulders and squeezes, hyping him up. “You, uh… you have too much faith in me.”
“Mhm,” Hyunjin hums. He leans in to kiss Jeongin's cheek, lightning-quick and featherlight. Innocent. Mindless, truly— “For good luck.”
Immediately, Jeongin malfunctions and shoots at an empty spot. Seizing the chance, a zombie tears his character to shreds.
He's dead in the blink of an eye.
Hyunjin goes weak, dropping his forehead between Jeongin's shoulders as his own shake with a bout of laughter. He doesn't mean to, but the timing was perfect and the contrast too comedic to ignore. His chuckles die down softly, enough to hear Jeongin lamenting over the trails.
“I can only embarrass myself around you.”
Hyunjin shakes his head and takes his hand to lace their fingers together. “No, you can only make me like you more.”
Jeongin blushes, and Hyunjin can't resist smooching his face again. When he pulls back, Jeongin's eyes are wide behind the glasses, his ears as red as ripe apples. Hyunjin wants to take a step further and bite him— he holds back just barely.
“I'm hungry,” he says instead. “Let's grab something to eat.”
A quick trip to a convenience store later, they're slurping on ramyeon sitting face-to-face on the only free table outside. Conversation flows easily, comfortably sharing bits and pieces of each other's lives over a meal like they've done this a million times. Starved for more than just food, Hyunjin hooks his foot around Jeongin's ankle and intertwines their pinkies over the table, keeping him close any way he can think of until they get up to leave.
“I don't feel like going home yet,” Hyunjin admits, kicking a pebble up the street.
Jeongin clears his throat and reaches for him, looping his arm around Hyunjin's neck to pull him against his side. He's so unsubtle it's adorable. Hyunjin basks in the gesture still, happily snugged.
“We can go to mine, if you want,” he says, trying to appear nonchalant. Hyunjin can feel his fingers twitching on his shoulder, betraying how nervous he really is. “Jisung hyung’s spending the night with his boyfriend, so.”
So what? Hyunjin steps in front of Jeongin with a smirk, eyes narrowed. “Did you ask him to?” he teases, fingers climbing up Jeongin's arms to his nape, where they lock into place. “Or did you kick him out?”
“I didn't have to say anything,” Jeongin says, hesitating for a second before setting his hands on Hyunjin's hips. “He just packed a bag and winked a lot.”
Hyunjin throws his head back with a laugh, feels as Jeongin uses his hold on him to pull their bodies flush. When he straightens up, their noses are a mere breath away.
“We'll have to thank him, then,” Hyunjin says, and surges in to steal the kiss he's been craving all along.
A hand buried wildly in Jeongin's hair, the other having fun feeling his muscles up. Jeongin uses his mouth like he did for his drunken flirting— confidently, without filter— and turns Hyunjin into a mess as soon as he opens up for his tongue. It gets too hot, too fast and Hyunjin ends up pulling away for a breather just to make sure neither of them are really on fire.
“How far are we?” he pants, already dreading however long it'll take them to get there.
Jeongin’s glasses are askew. He fixes them before replying, “Ten minutes if we run.”
“Let’s make it eight,” Hyunjin says, and bolts after Jeongin with his heart beating madly in his chest.
After tonight, he knows he won't ever want anybody else.
.
“Thirty-seven!”
“Ugh!” Hyunjin groans. “I have thirty-six.”
Next to him, Hyemi angrily taps her pen on the table. “I have thirty-eight!”
“I think Jeonginnie hates us, halmeoni,” he says. She nods in agreement. “We might need to start a revolution by ourselves.”
Jeongin picks up another ball. “Eight!”
“What did he say?” Hyemi leans in to ask.
“Eight,” Hyunjin repeats. He stares at the seven in his card like it'll magically change any second. “This has to be on purpose.”
“I have it,” Hyemi says, circling it.
Hyunjin gasps. “I thought we were in this together.”
“Fifteen!”
“Finally,” Hyunjin highlights the number with a huff. He's nervous, stuck two away from bingo for at least ten minutes. This game is not for the weak. “But still not what I need.”
“I have it, too!” Hyemi laughs merrily.
Hyunjin glares at Jeongin from across the room, trying to work some kind of couple's telepathy to get him to pull what'll benefit him most. Please, please, please.
“Thirty-six!”
“What did he say?” Hyemi asks again.
“Thirty-six,” Hyunjin replies. Then it clicks. “Oh, I have it— just one for bingo!”
Hyemi claps. “Very good!”
Hyunjin closes his eyes and crosses his fingers. That's how Jeongin catches him before he announces the next number, laughing softly into the microphone and earning a bunch of confused blinks from the elderly this event is truly for.
“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “Sixty-two!”
Hyunjin drops his hands with a frown. “I'm gonna break up with him after this, halmeoni.”
“Hyunjinnie, it's just a game,” Hyemi consoles him, giving him little pats on the back. Hyunjin pouts and nods like a little kid. “You can stop worrying so much— I won!”
Hyunjin's jaw drops. “Huh?!”
“Bingo!” Hyemi shouts, lifting her card up over her head. The room drowns in cheers— Hyunjin's the loudest.
On the drive back, Jeongin listens to his whole retelling of the day. The build-up to Hyemi’s win, what a struggle crossing out numbers in his own game ended up being. How he opened a telepathic connection between them that very moment to tweak the numbers in his favor and it worked, so they're soulmates or something like that.
“I had so much fun, and everyone was so nice,” he says, sighing contentedly as the wind blows gently on his hair. “Let's invite them to our wedding when it happens.”
Jeongin still sputters every time he mentions getting married, but he seems to have forgotten— Hyunjin told him he would think about it after the first date, and that's all he's been doing since. Doodling cake designs, drafting a guest list. He’d worry about moving too fast, but he made a collaborative Pinterest board two months into the relationship and the first thing Jeongin did was title it a combination of their names plus a heart. He adds to it as often as Hyunjin does.
He may act shy, but Hyunjin knows they're both on the same page.
Because Jeongin got down on his knees and begged for Hyunjin to marry him, and now the chances of it happening are exponentially higher. Possibly too real.
Definitely going to happen.