Work Text:
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Yeonjun gets paid on the 25th of the month. Like clockwork, he gets about fifteen packs of instant ramen, a loaf of discount bread, the cheapest option of beef, eggs, and some microwave meals.
They have a new brand of cat food at the store. He stops in front of the shelf and checks the price. It’s a bit out of his budget; Yeonjun still gets five cans, and a new bag of kibbles.
When Yeonjun gets home, it’s a little bit after nine. There is a note atop his doormat.
snowdrop passed by early and she was meowing a lot. so i fed her! :-) i think she was looking for you. -S
The handwriting is terrible. Yeonjun blinks as he pockets it, and then pulls out his grocery receipt. Yeonjun flips it around and writes on the back.
thank you. i hope it was not too much work for you. -Y
He puts it on the doormat of the apartment next to his. A faint yellow light spills from the crack of the door. There is music, a pop song that Yeonjun can’t remember the name. Someone squeals; their laughter sounds like baby dolphins.
Yeonjun lifts his groceries from the floor and unlocks his apartment, almost knocking over the mountain of cardboard boxes in the doorway. He still needs to bring everything down to the recycle bin, but he always gets home so late.
Inside, the noise from Soobin’s apartment grows more vibrant, coating every wall, warm and lovely. Yeonjun debates putting on a show to drown out the sounds but he can’t push himself to do it. Picking out a random box of microwave meals, Yeonjun heats it up before settling down on the couch. It’s pasta; the noodles are mushy and bland, the sauce too watery.
Yeonjun’s fingers hover above Beomgyu’s contact before locking his phone. He throws it somewhere on the other side of the sofa.
Beomgyu is at the bar right now, dealing with miserable drunk men and Chaewon, who is probably dropping martini glasses all over the place. Yeonjun contemplates calling Taehyun, but Taehyun could be going through security check at the airport at the moment. It's fine. He can just go to sleep.
When he finishes his dinner, rinses the container, and sorts it out in the right trash bag, the city is draped in a dark blue, muddy streaks of clouds splashing the sky. Yeonjun closes the window, changes into his pajamas, and plops down on the bed, heavy-minded.
Soobin’s laughter is a faint noise that seeps through the wall. It loops around his mind and lulls him to sleep.
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Yeonjun sees Soobin everywhere.
He sees Soobin in bits and pieces: in the dusty hallway when Yeonjun rushes to work; on the tiny, steep stairs that smell like stale bread; in front of their mailboxes sometimes, where Soobin would shuffle through his spams with a frown.
But Yeonjun rarely sees him on the shared balcony.
“I didn’t know you smoke,” Yeonjun says. These are the last days of autumn; the wind is cold on his bare arms.
Soobin’s glasses hung on his nose, almost slipping off his face. His glasses are always awful, thick-rimmed and rectangular, obscuring half of his features. He looks ridiculous with a cigarette between his lips.
“I usually don't. Only when there’s something bugging me,” Soobin offers him a smile, dimpled and lovely and warm. Soobin is one of the most beautiful people that Yeonjun has ever met, ugly glasses and all.
“Didn’t know someone like you could have problems that make you wanna smoke,” Yeonjun says, leaning against the railing.
“Someone like me?” Soobin chuckles. “Who do you think I am? Mr. Perfect?”
“Something like that,” Yeonjun says. Soobin is a physical therapist and his flat is always full of laughter. He is a year younger than Yeonjun and he knows exactly what to do with his life. Soobin is the textbook definition of perfect.
“So what gave Mr. Perfect a rough patch today?” Yeonjun flicks his cigarette. The dust falls to the ground.
“Just work,” Soobin says. “I’d rather talk about your day.”
The wind ruffles Soobin’s hair, scraping against his cheeks until they turn pink. Yeonjun is too distracted by Soobin’s skin that he almost forgets that he is late for work.
“My day?” Yeonjun says. “Just the usual. I just slept all morning.”
Soobin blows out a plume of smoke. “You were home early last night.”
“If you count 10 p.m. as early. I got a day off. Only once in a while, though. We’re still so understaffed.”
“I’d love to visit you at the bar sometimes, but then I also don’t drink often.”
Yeonjun imagines Soobin’s oversized frame fiddling in the stiff chair that they have at the bar. He’d probably look ridiculous, because Soobin looks like he belongs in a Uniqlo advertisement rather than a flashy setting like that. Beomgyu would flirt with Soobin anyway.
“Don’t come. I look terrible while I work.”
“What are you talking about? You always look pretty,” Soobin says. The way his tongue curls around the word pretty makes Yeonjun’s brain fuzzy. Yeonjun takes another drag.
“You don’t even know. I get all cranky when I’m at work.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. One day.” The smile is bright on Soobin’s lips as he stubs out his half-smoked cigarette. What a waste. “I gotta go. I need to do some research for work. It’s been keeping me up for days. I’ll feed Snowdrop, so you don't have to worry.”
Evening wind is still cold on his shoulders, but Yeonjun’s face is warm. The cigarette dies between Yeonjun’s index and middle finger.
Soobin lingers around the balcony before he leaves and shoots Yeonjun a smile. Pretty. Yeonjun’s stomach does a somersault. Digestion, Yeonjun thinks.
“I hope you have a great day at work.” Soobin waves before fading to a blur.
Yeonjun is sure that he is going to have a terrible day at work.
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“Did you and Chaewon switch bodies?” Beomgyu says when he refills the ice bucket. “This is the third glass that you have broken tonight.”
“How dare you scold your manager?” Yeonjun says. He picks the remnants of the yarai glass into a paper bag, and pulls the dustpan from the drawer underneath the bar top. “Maybe we aren’t well insulated? Or should we check the production company of the glassware? There must be a reason why the glasses keep breaking.”
“You know,” Kazuha says as she leans over the bar. “Chaewon is only clumsy when that one customer is around.”
“The one with orange hair? I thought Chaewon hates her,” Beomgyu says. “Said that she got an attitude.”
“I don’t know, dude,” Kazuha shrugs. “Chaewon is the one with an attitude around here.”
“I should talk to her. She broke all the martini glasses that we just ordered. Twelve in a weekend, can you believe? A new record, really.” Yeonjun clicks his tongue. He sweeps the floor twice, and dumps the dust into the paper bag. Yeonjun ties it up and throws it in the hazardous waste. “Also, Why are you standing like that, Kazuha? Get back on the floor.”
“Jeez. Relax. You're so uptight for a Monday,” Kazuha says as she loads the shots on the tray. “Also the guy at table 15 asked if you were single.”
Yeonjun carefully glances up. The guy’s face is coated in a pink hue. “He’s too young for me.”
“He just ordered straight-up cold vodka,” Beomgyu says. “He must be at least twenty-five.”
“Vodka on a Monday? Maybe he just has an alcohol problem. More reasons not to go out with him.”
“How many guys this month have you rejected?” Kazuha twirls a strand of hair. “At this point, I should wear a Yeonjun is not interested badge across my chest in case another customer asks for your number.”
Yeonjun taps her shoulder. “Less talking, more working. Tell him that I’ve already got someone to take care of at home.”
Beomgyu chuckles. “That someone is your neighborhood cat, apparently.”
"See. It's not very far from the truth," Yeonjun says."
Kazuha sighs as she makes her way to the guy, who winks at Yeonjun. His eyes can barely open but he's still chugging his vodka. Yeonjun turns his back towards the table as he fills a new yarai glass with ice.
Beomgyu watches Yeonjun's hands for a while. “You know… I know a guy your age who just went through a break-up. I showed him your photos and he thought you were really pretty. Do you want me to set you guys up?”
Yeonjun measures the gin and dumps it in the mixing glass.
“What if he’s still... too hung up on his ex? Also Beomgyu, why would you show my photos without my permission?”
“Your Instagram is public. It’s publicly accessible information,” Beomgyu folds his arms. “Why do you keep denying these men who are practically throwing themselves at you? Either they are too young, too old, too sensitive… too something. You always pick out their flaws.”
Yeonjun searches for the sweet vermont. “Are you scolding your manager again?”
“No,” Beomgyu says. “I am scolding you as my friend.”
Yeonjun’s stomach drops. Yeonjun measures the correct amount of sweet vermont and pours it into the yarai glass. He grabs a couple of ice cubes and gives everything a stir.
All those men are fine, actually. Yeonjun actually thinks Cold Vodka Guy is cute; he bets that the guy Beomgyu wants to set him up with is cute, too, because Beomgyu is only friends with pretty people. It’s actually Yeonjun who is too in his own head.
“Beomgyu.” Yeonjun puts down the spoon. “I am a bartender. I can’t go out to dinner, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. Those are my making money days!”
“I am a bartender and I go out just fine!” Beomgyu says.
"You go out just fine because I am here to take all of your dropped shifts! Who is going to take mine?"
“Ya. Stop making me feel bad," Beomgyu groans, "when the truth is you just don’t give people a chance.”
Yeonjun thinks that the only person who doesn’t deserve a chance is himself, actually. Why would anyone want to waste their time with him even? Yeonjun knows he’s attractive; he has sharp eyes and his lips are pink. His hands are small but his shoulders are broad, his collarbones defined. He knows why people would find him pretty at first glance.
But appearance is only on the surface, because after the initial attraction and romantic dinners and walks in the park, everyone will find out that Yeonjun is not a perfect partner. He doesn’t know how to cook and his flat is in a constant state of mess. He is twenty-nine and still waiting for his life to begin; for an actual job with compensated lunches and large windows instead of this somber bar that was supposed to be a temporary gig after graduation.
Yeonjun is not just very datable. He is just saving all those men from dealing with his life.
But Beomgyu doesn’t need to know all that. Yeonjun discards the ice from the yarai glass. Beomgyu watches him, face stern. His voice, however, is soft. “There is nothing to be scared of. Just open your heart.”
Yeonjun grips the glass until his palm is numb. Yeonjun is not scared. He’s just a bit grim, maybe. “Too bad. My heart has been wrapped in a block of ice.”
Beomgyu rolls his eyes, before feigning a sweet smile as the middle-aged man sitting at the bar gestures him over.
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The bar closes at one on weekdays. Jungkook passes by during closing, sleeves rolled up, airing out his new tattoo that is still healing. Yeonjun tries not to stare at the flaky skin as they go over the new menu.
“This tea is nice,” Yeonjun says. He pours the tea into a high glass and takes a sip of the mixture. Sweet potato shochu and oolong tea make a great mix, earthy and roasted. “I don’t think we even need lemon.”
Jungkook nods. “I know, right? It’s high quality. I went to check the quality of their tea farm and everything. You should take some home, Yeonjun. Oolong can reduce stress.”
Yeonjun tries to smile. He can’t feel his back anymore and his eyelids are about to droop, but there are still so many things to clean. Grabbing the spoons in the sink, Yeonjun loads them into the dishwasher before Jungkook stops him.
“Let me do it, Yeonjun. You should have an early night.”
“But–”
“No buts,” Jungkook says sweetly. “Listen to your boss.”
Yeonjun wants to protest, but he knows how argumentative Jungkook can get, so he settles for an eye-roll as a reply and unties his apron. Jungkook throws Yeonjun one box of tea and Yeonjun catches it with ease.
When he gets home, Snowdrop finally appears after days of missing, wagging her tail in front of his apartment. Her eyes grow into two marbles when she spots Yeonjun, a note clammed in between her teeth.
“Oh,” Yeonjun crouches down on the floor and scratches her ear. She leans into the touch, her small body deflated, mellow. “Don’t eat that, baby.”
Grabbing the note from her, Yeonjun smiles.
i hope work was nice today :-) please rest well. -S
Yeonjun searches his bag for an old receipt and writes on the back. work is never nice, but i pulled through. thank you for feeding snowdrop.
The oolong tea stares back at Yeonjun from the bottom of his bag, and he ponders over the conversation he had with Soobin before work. Soobin needs this more than him, anyway. Clutching at his pen, Yeonjun writes.
this is my compensation. apparently oolong is good for sleep, since you mentioned that work has been keeping you up. It’s good quality - my boss always ensures that we have the best stuff! i hope this can help your rough patch. -Y
He places it on Soobin’s doormat.
Snowdrop follows him to his apartment, tail curled around his ankle as if apologizing for her absence. Yeonjun gives her the canned food he got from the store; she eats well, licking her bowl clean and going to sleep in a cardboard box near the entrance. Yeonjun slurps his instant noodles as he mindlessly scrolls his phone. He gets to bed when the sky turns a pale blue.
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In the afternoon, Yeonjun wakes up. He opens the door before he even washes his face. The note is there, waiting for him, next to a suspicious paper bag.
Yeonjun unfolds it and narrows his eyes, trying to make out the words.
thank you for the tea. i tried it with these butter cookies that i made and it was very lovely. here, have some! :-) -S
The paper bag is secured with a blue ribbon. Yeonjun holds it close to his chest.
The cookies are definitely too sweet, but they pair fine with the roasted taste of oolong. The thought that Yeonjun passed Soobin's mind makes his heart flutter, even when they don’t really know each other that well.
Winter comes early this year; the city is coated in a layer of mist and the sky is grey. Yeonjun watches from his small window with a smile on his face. He thinks about what to write back all day.
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Yeonjun contemplates another cigarette before Soobin emerges from the balcony door. Snowdrop is a patch of white in his arms.
His eyes meet Yeonjun through his ridiculous thick-rimmed glasses, his mouth slightly ajar.
“Do you need a lighter?” Yeonjun asks.
“No, actually,” Soobin says.
“Then a cigarette, maybe?” Yeonjun asks. Yeonjun is not the kind of person who shares his cigarettes, but for Soobin he would make an exception.
Soobin scratches Snowdrop’s ears and shakes his head. “Thank you, Yeonjun. I don’t think I need a cigarette today.
“The rough patch has gone?”
Soobin nods. "All thanks to your tea."
"You should thank my boss instead."
"Why can't you say You're welcome like a normal person?
"I work in customer service. Usually I'm the one saying thanks, not the other way around."
"What a lame excuse."
Yeonjun smiles. He’s still glad whatever bothers Soobin at work isn’t pestering his mind anymore. Soobin is so kind, and he deserves the best things ever. Yeonjun pockets his cigarette pack.
“So what brings you here?” Yeonjun asks.
“I–” Soobin flicks his gaze to a spot in the hallway, and sighs. “It’s a long story. I’m locked out at my apartment and Mr. Kim–”
“You’re locked out of your apartment?” Yeonjun raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I’m waiting for my friend Huening Kai for the rescue. He has the spare key but he’s stuck in traffic jam.”
Soobin’s fingers glow a pink hue. His collarbones peek at Yeonjun through his unbuttoned shirt, slightly red. Yeonjun tries not to stare too hard, but he thinks he fails.
Yeonjun pulls out his phone and checks the time. He still has an hour. “Do you want to tell your story over some tea?”
“Oh?” Soobin blinks, and then his mouth edges up in a smile.
“My place is a bit messy, but you can wait there until your friend arrives. I'll leave for work in a bit anyway. Just... don’t say anything about the cardboard boxes. I still need to take them out.”
“Hmm. I’d like a cup of green tea.”
“Ooh. I’ve got the best kind,” Yeonjun says, and Soobin’s smile widens.
“Are you trying to hide from Mr. Kim?” Yeonjun asks when Soobin settles on the couch, eyeing the cardboard boxes in the doorway. He looks out of place here; his crisp, white shirt is too expensive for Yeonjun’s second-hand couch. Snowdrop rubs her head into the cuff of Soobin’s dress pants, asking for attention.
Yeonjun starts the kettle as Soobin settles her in his lap. His touch is so… gentle. Yeonjun’s stomach roars. “I was running away from him. He spotted her on the third floor and he was going nuts.”
“God. Tell me about it,” Yeonjun says. “That’s why I can only feed her after work when everyone has gone to sleep.”
“They’re all so strict about the no-pet policy thing. It’s not like we’re letting her in our apartments.”
“You know… last winter I let her in for about a week because it was snowing so much, until Mr. Kim saw her on my windowsill and threatened to tell the landlord to kick me out,” Yeonjun says as he opens the tea cupboard.
“That's so fucked up. I wish I could adopt her.”
“I wish I could move into a better place, somewhere I don't have to face Mr. Kim and I have my own private balcony.”
Soobin’s chuckle is light. He scratches the space underneath Snowdrop’s chin. It’s stupid to be jealous of a cat, especially one that you love and feed almost every day. But Yeonjun wishes that he could be able to sit on Soobin’s lap while Soobin’s fingers run down his spine. He wishes that he could place his cheek on Soobin’s chest and listen to Soobin’s breathing, feeling the rise and fall of Soobin’s chest.
Soobin’s voice pulls him out of his daydreaming. “Yeonjun?”
“Yes?”
“The kettle is done.”
“Oh.” Yeonjun clicks his tongue, grabbing two mugs. He reserves his favorite for Soobin; unchipped and devoid of tea stains. “Sorry. I was zoning out.”
“I get it, though. Making tea is therapeutic.”
“Well. Better than making a piña colada, I guess. I hate washing the blender over and over again.” Yeonjun snatches the mint leaves wrapped in a damp piece of tissue from the fridge and checks the freshness. It still has not wilted yet; he lets out a content sigh.
“Do you like mint?” Yeonjun asks.
“Oh I love mint.”
Yeonjun nods. He drops the mint into the mugs with the tea bags and pours hot water into them.
When Yeonjun hands Soobin his tea, Snowdrop is snoozing off on his lap.
“So… tell me more about your story. I’m a bartender. I can be a good listening ear.”
So Soobin does. He tells Yeonjun about the new changes at work that have been keeping him up at night. He tells Yeonjun about the little girl that he has been taking care of for weeks now, who is able to walk again after a tragic accident. He tells Yeonjun about his friend Huening Kai who lives on the other side of town, who has a plushie collection at the age of twenty-six and still plays Cookie Run on his phone.
In return, Yeonjun tells Soobin about Beomgyu who never shuts up at work. Yeonjun tells Soobin about his mom who lives an hour away, who has a green garden in her backyard with the sweetest spring onions. He tells Soobin about all random things: star signs, tea, and the complicated procedure to keep mint fresh.
These are the things that people would talk about on first dates, Yeonjun thinks. He holds his chipped mug closer to his chest and tries not to dream too high.
When they finish their tea, the sky is draped in a dark blue. Streetlights flicker streaks of yellow into Yeonjun’s unlit apartment.
“Oh shit,” Yeonjun checks the time. “I’m going to be late for work again. Hold on.”
He rushes into his room and changes to whatever is thrown on the bed: a cut-out band tee, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket. Grabbing his bag slinging on the chair, Yeonjun makes sure that his keys are in there.
When he gets out of his room, Soobin is washing the mugs in the sink.
“You don’t have to do that,” Yeonjun says. “Just put it there. I can do it after work.”
“Don’t worry. I drank your tea and used your good mug,” Soobin smiles, pointing to Yeonjun’s unwashable tea-stained mug.
Yeonjun's cheeks flush. “You can wait here until your friend comes,” he says as he grabs two slices of bread on the kitchen counter, before dashing toward the door. “Just close the door when you leave. I hope my neighbor is not a robber.”
“You never know. It's always the people closest to you.” Soobin narrows his eyes, before breaking into a laugh. The dimples shine on Soobin's face, two little suns, and Yeonjun is pretty sure that he will break at least three martini glasses tonight.
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The stairs of their apartment building are in their worst condition: rust clings to the handrails and mold coats the walls, the steps too slippery for Yeonjun’s worn converse. Yeonjun holds his breath as he makes his way up before a body slams into him, throwing him off balance.
“Oh, fuck,” Yeonjun clutches into the arm of the stranger as his groceries spill down to the landing.
“That is a lot of cat food,” the stranger says. He has blond hair and his shoulders are broad. His nose tilt up cutely. Yeonjun thinks he’s glowing. “You must be the pretty neighbor.”
“Sorry. I must be what?”
“Ah…” the stranger says, a smile donning his face. He crouches down and picks up all the cans spilling all over the stairs. Yeonjun is a bit embarrassed about the amount of cat food now that he has seen it; there was a 1+1 deal at the store. “Sorry… I mean Yeonjun. Soobin’s neighbor, right?”
The thought that Soobin might have referred to Yeonjun as the pretty neighbor elsewhere numbs his limbs. He clutches the hem of his leather coat as Huening Kai finishes putting everything back into the paper bag.
“Sorry... Are you not Yeonjun? I might have been mistaken.”
“Ah, no… I was zoning out again. I am Yeonjun.” Yeonjun should ask Jungkook for more oolong tea; maybe he needs it for his attention problem. “You must be a friend of Soobin's.”
“Uh huh. My name is Huening Kai.”
“Ah. The one who keeps his spare key.”
“God. Is that how he refers to me? Huening Kai the guy who keeps his spare key?”
“He also talked about your plushie addiction.”
“Ah. And I thought Soobin and I were best friends.”
Yeonjun laughs into his palm. “I’m just kidding. He said a lot of nice things about you, I promise.”
“He also said nice things about you, too, to the point that I almost didn’t believe that you were real.” Huening Kai studies Yeonjun’s face intensely, his gaze firm. Yeonjun feels like a drink menu being dissected by a classy alcoholic.
“Well,” Huening Kai says after a good minute. “I’m glad to find out that you’re very real and you’re also very pretty, exactly like what Soobin has said.”
Huening Kai hands Yeonjun his grocery bag, face bright. There is a shyness fluttering in Yeonjun’s chest, something that he hasn’t felt since high school. He’s turning thirty next year, for fuck’s sake.
“Ah. Soobin is just too nice.”
“He’s actually not,” Huening Kai shoves his hands into his pockets. “But don’t tell him I said that. He will beat me up if he finds out that I badmouthed him in front of you.”
Huening Kai’s long legs fly down the stairs, blond hair swaying. The groceries are heavy in Yeonjun’s arms but his heart is so light.
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heard that you bumped into huening the other day :-) i hope he didn’t say anything weird. his mouth runs faster than his brain sometimes!
have a good rest tonight.
-S
he’s actually really nice. he’s so quick! I like him a lot! may i ask how he did his hair? here is some more jasmine tea that i stole at work, please enjoy.
have a good day at work, Soobin.
-Y
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“Why is there a bag of cookies in front of your door?” Taehyun kicks the bathroom door open. Yeonjun tries to cover his dick with his beaten T-shirt.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Can you at least wait until I'm done pooping?”
“I missed you,” Taehyun says, still considerate enough to turn around for Yeonjun to wipe and pull up his pants. “I haven’t seen you in a month. Also that stinks by the way.”
“Then you should stop disappearing and popping up out of nowhere, Kang Taehyun,” Yeonjun mumbles. He washes his hands and wipes the water on his sweatpants.
“I was attending conferences. You acted like I vanished from the face of the Earth.” Taehyun watches him through the mirror. “But I shouldn’t have left in the first place, because I just missed an entire chapter of your life. Who the fuck is S?”
Taehyun holds up a piece of paper and Yeonjun’s heart is caught in his throat.
“Fuck. What did it say?” Yeonjun snatches the paper from Taehyun’s hand.
thanks for the tea. i think you’d enjoy this with yours, too! -S
Yeonjun’s front door is left ajar. A paper bag tied with a blue ribbon is placed on his doormat.
“God. Are you blushing?” Taehyun crosses his arms.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yeonjun knows exactly what Taehyun is talking about. He pockets the note as he picks up the cookies. “Ah. This. Don’t mind it. It’s just my neighbor being friendly.”
Taehyun narrows his eyes. It’s time Yeonjun deflected from the topic. “Coffee or tea?”
“Neither.” Taehyun plops down on the sofa. “Tell me more about your neighbor.”
Yeonjun really wants to. He wants to pour his heart out to Taehyun. He wants to talk about Soobin and his awful glasses and the faint laughter that has befriended Yeonjun for the last month. He wants to talk about Soobin’s eyes. His yearning for Soobin has become a block so large to the point that it’s hard to be himself these days.
Yeonjun swallows all those urges down. “No.”
“Great.” Taehyun stands up and stretches his arms. “I’ll go meet him myself.”
“Are you crazy? He’s at work right now. Taehyun–”
It’s too late. Taehyun has already buzzed Soobin’s door. Yeonjun wants to laugh into Taehyun’s face because what is the chance of Soobin being home? But then the footsteps grow loud from behind the door and Yeonjun’s heart swells in his chest.
Soobin appears a moment later, face fresh without any glasses. Water drips from his hair and runs down his temples.
“Hi?” He flicks his gaze between Taehyun and Yeonjun confusedly.
Taehyun looks at Yeonjun and smiles.
It turns out that most work is affected today due to a large-scale unplanned public transport strike. Everyone knows this except for Yeonjun: as usual, Yeonjun slept through the morning news.
Soobin perches on the sofa as Taehyun stares at him intensely.
Yeonjun places the cookies on one of the few clean plates in his kitchen. He turns on the coffee machine and pops in a pod.
“So… how old are you?” Taehyun asks.
“Is this some sort of interview?” Yeonjun says from his spot. Yeonjun always walks on eggshells around Taehyun; you can’t really expect what he says next. But Soobin seems like he is at ease: shoulders relax, face calm.
“No. It’s fine, Yeonjun. I don’t mind.” Soobin’s smile is warm and genuine. “I’m twenty-eight.”
“Ah. Perfect age to fall in love,” Taehyun says.
“I’m sorry, what?” Soobin says.
Taehyun nods, face blank. “Statistically, most people meet their life partner at twenty-eight. You date for two years until you reach thirty, and then now what? Because your prefrontal cortex is already developed, the next logical step is to settle down.”
Soobin’s eyes widen momentarily, and then the calmness swims in his face again.
Yeonjun clears his throat.
“Sorry,” Yeonjun says, his cheeks flushed. “Just tune Taehyun out. He’s an Aquarius. He’s a little weird.”
“Don’t worry. I’m actually interested.” The smile still lingers on Soobin’s lips, and Yeonjun’s hands get clammy when Soobin looks at him. “Then maybe I should go out more. It’s time I actively look for a partner.”
Taehyun’s mouth edges up a little. He’s wearing that expression when he is up to no good. “Go to a bar. Love could be waiting for you at a bar.”
“Do you really think so?” Soobin says. “What if love is closer than I think? Maybe just somewhere outside my door?”
Yeonjun pretends not to notice the rumblings in his stomach. The coffee drips down to the mug. Drip drop.
Taehyun laughs. “I like you. You’re an open book. Too bad some people don’t know how to read.” He stares at Yeonjun.
Yeonjun turns around as he removes the mug from the coffee machine. He takes a sip of his coffee, just to have something to do with his hands. It’s too hot on his tongue.
After that, Taehyun talks about his professor job, which is way more interesting than Yeonjun’s, and Yeonjun’s nerves calm down a little. Soobin excuses himself after an hour. He has a report that he still needs to finish. He lingers near the door as he bids Yeonjun goodbye.
The apartment is so empty without Soobin’s laughter. Taehyun studies Yeonjun from the sofa.
“What the fuck was that?” Yeonjun says as soon as he closes the door.
“Oh. So you noticed,” Taehyun says. “I was just filling my mandatory role of being your best friend. You guys are obviously into each other. Did you see the way he looks at you?”
“Shut up,” Yeonjun says into his palms. “Stop saying weird things. This is all so embarrassing.”
“Nothing is embarrassing about having a crush.” Taehyun wraps his arm around him.
“Phrasing it as a crush makes it even more embarrassing.” Yeonjun isn’t at the age to have crushes anymore; what he has is a longing that makes him stay up at night and wonder if he deserves love.
A beat of silence, and then Taehyun carefully peels Yeonjun’s hand off his face and laces their fingers together.
“Hey. Stop that." Taehyun says. "Are you thinking bad thoughts about yourself again?”
“You–” Yeonjun wants to protest, but his body deflates when Taehyun caresses his fingers. Tentatively, Yeonjun rests his head on Taehyun’s shoulder. “I like him so much my heart is going to burst. He’s just too perfect. Why does he have to be so fucking nice all the time?”
“You think nice people are superficial.”
“Because my niceness is superficial, Taehyun. I work in customer service, I am paid to be nice.” But Soobin… Soobin is nice not because he wants to gain a couple extra tips; Soobin’s niceness comes from his caring, genuine heart. Soobin makes Yeonjun believe that the world is bound together by a universal kindness and humanity has never been all bleak and cold. It’s terrifying.
“He’s just…” Yeonjun tries to find the right words. “He makes me want to be genuinely nice, too. He makes me want to open my heart.”
“Yeonjun, baby.” Taehyun’s fingers brush over Yeonjun’s knuckles, feather-light. “You have changed.”
“I have,” Yeonjun admits. He wonders if physical therapists also fix hearts, because the block of ice around Yeonjun’s heart is melting, day by day.
“It’s a good look on you.”
𓃺
Saturday is always the busiest day of the week. Customers flood every single table, and the mountain of tickets during happy hour makes Yeonjun want to throw up.
His hands are numb from the ice. Someone just ordered another virgin piña colada, and Yeonjun sighs as he rinses the blender. He dodges as Beomgyu places an empty sparkling rosé bottle into the crate underneath Yeonjun’s feet.
Both Yeonjun and Beomgyu work well under pressure; they synchronize, even. Chaewon, in contrast, crumbles. The wine glass falls from her tray and hits the floor. Cling clang, dark red splashing in spots. Yeonjun frowns.
“Sorry. I should have looked where I was heading,” Chaewon says. Kazuha quickly grabs the mop and cleans it in seconds, before going back to serving the never-ending orders.
Everything is back on track, or at least Yeonjun has thought. An hour later, Chaewon breaks her third glass of the night. Beomgyu tugs his hands into his hair.
"Not a mojito, Chaewon. We are out of mint," Beomgyu groans.
Yeonjun sighs. He is running low on patience today. His hands clutch tightly on the counter. He should talk to Chaewon, but Yeonjun wants a cigarette, maybe. He wants to go home and take a shower and warm his fingers. He wants to nestle under the blanket and listen to Soobin’s faint laughter seeping through the wall until the world goes away.
“I’ll get the mop,” Kazuha puts her tray down.
Chaewon still hasn’t said anything. She stares at the ruined mojito on the floor.
“You know what,” Chaewon says, finally looking up. She slams her tray on the bar top and shuts her eyes, her ears red. “I AM SO TIRED OF BREAKING GLASSES.”
“Chaewon?” Yeonjun blinks.
“I AM SO SORRY, YEONJUN. I HOPE YOU FORGIVE ME FOR THIS,” Chaewon says. She stomps toward the table at the back and grabs a girl with orange hair by the collar. Chaewon pulls her up and kisses her on the lips.
“I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU, HUH YUNJIN,” Chaewon screams, and the table where Yunjin is sitting bursts out in a cheer. People start clapping, all of a sudden; the air fills with swoons and roars. Kazuha jumps in the air, her hand clasping over her mouth as she makes weird dolphin noises.
“What the fuck just happened?” Yeonjun whispers to Beomgyu amidst the commotion. “I have always thought Chaewon can’t stand that Yunjin girl.”
Beomgyu laughs. “Chaewon is really stupid. I have always known that she’s secretly in love with Yunjin. You know what she told me? Beomgyu, I don’t feel like myself when she’s around. She makes me all jittery. It’s weird. Well, maybe you should kiss her and find out why.”
Yeonjun nods. He stares at the intact yarai glass in his hand, and tells himself that Beomgyu only gives terrible advice. “I agree,” Yeonjun says. “Chaewon is really stupid.”
The bar closes late this morning. People linger around to celebrate love and the beauty of it or whatever. Yunjin sits at the bar after the shift, her arm wrapping around Chaewon. Yunjin’s hair is so fried, crisp and grassy, but Chaewon still runs her fingers through it as she whispers sweet nothings into Yunjin’s ears.
“This is all so disgusting,” Yeonjun says as he fills their glasses with sweet wine. “You guys make me sick in my stomach.”
Jungkook passes by around three in the morning. He brings two bottles of plum wine and Yeonjun downs a large chunk of it in under five minutes.
“Congrats, Chaewon. I didn’t think you would have the guts.” He pats Chaewon’s shoulder, and then leans over the bar top, gestuing Yeonjun close.
“Hey. I heard that our glassware keeps breaking? I thought it was only Chaewon, but you also seem to have the same problem, too.” Jungkook says as Yeonjun takes another sip, straight from the bottle. “Should I check with the glassware production company? Or maybe it’s the air insulation system?”
“No,” Yeonjun mumbles. The plum is so sweet, with a tarty aftertaste bursting in the column of his throat. “Your staff just have clumsy hands.”
Jungkook ruffles Yeonjun’s hair. His voice is a murmur whirling around the ambiance of the bar. “You should get that checked out, Yeonjun.”
“Do you think I should go see a physical therapist?”
“Probably.” Jungkook pinches his cheek.
Yeonjun takes the other bottle of plum wine home, because Jungkook is generous and kind and he also enables Yeonjun’s alcohol problem. This is why Yeonjun can’t quit his job.
He takes a shower and nestles under the blanket as he stares at the wall that separates his and Soobin’s bedrooms.
Yeonjun checks the clock. Soobin will probably get up in an hour. The alcohol is still pumping in his system, running through his veins toward Yeonjun’s restless heart.
Yeonjun sighs. He gets up and makes some tea. All his mint leaves are wilted, so it tastes a little weak on his tongue.
Nothing really helps. Yeonjun draws the curtains and watches the city slowly wake up. Winter mornings are always lazy; a thick coat of fog drapes over the streets underneath.
Snowdrop comes around five in the morning, mewling in front of his door. Yeonjun gives her tuna, carefully watching her lick the bowl clean until noises start to rumble behind Soobin’s door.
Yeonjun stands up. He doesn’t have any receipts in his back pocket today, but it’s alright. He knocks and holds his breath. His underarms are sweating, sticking to his pajamas, and he still smells like plum, despite the shower.
Soobin appears a second later, hair a disarray and his face is bare. His eyes are heavy with sleep, droopy. Without his glasses, Soobin looks younger and brighter; his skin emits a soft shine, afterglow.
“Hi?” Soobin says. His deep morning voice curls around Yeonjun’s heart.
“Maybe I’m also tired of breaking glasses,” Yeonjun says. He pulls Soobin by the waist and kisses him.
Yeonjun has kissed a lot of people in his life, but there is nothing quite like this. Soobin kisses him back, tasting like peppermint toothpaste and aftershave; the artificial scent is so strong that Yeonjun sinks deeper. The cold slips through the crack of the window and sneaks under Yeonjun’s pajamas, but his stomach is so warm, like a freshly baked loaf of bread.
Soobin’s hand on Yeonjun’s face is still damp, but this is perfect. Yeonjun’s head is so dizzy that he feels like he’s going to explode.
“Yeonjun?”
“I–” Something is rising in Yeonjun’s chest, tart and sour. Plum. It gets to Yeonjun’s throat and the next thing he knows, there’s a puddle of vomit in front of Soobin’s doormat. Yeonjun’s world fades into pit black.
𓃺
Yeonjun wakes up with a banging headache and a bed a size bigger than his own.
The bed sheets are grey, with two pillows and a top sheet. Everything smells like Soobin.
A cup of water is placed neatly on the nightstand and a post-it note is attached to it.
i tried to open your door but i think it’s automatically locked? there is breakfast if you’re hungry. please make yourself at home. -S
Yeonjun smiles. Soobin is always so considerate. He takes a sip of water and does a slow scan of the room.
So this is how it is on the other side of the wall.
Soobin, just like Yeonjun expects, doesn’t have that much stuff. There are a few postcards hung on the walls, probably from the places that Soobin has visited. Photos are littered on the windowsill; Huening Kai is in a few frames, and so many faces that Yeonjun hasn’t seen before.
It’s a bit overwhelming. Yeonjun gets up, makes the bed, and opens the door to the living room.
All the time he has known Soobin, this is the first time that Yeonjun is in Soobin’s apartment, so Yeonjun takes his time lingering around each corner, inspecting Soobin’s life. Soobin’s flat is bigger compared to Yeonjun’s, brighter and neater. There is a large glass window that allows more sunlight; more room for air, too.
In the kitchen, there is a door that leads to a balcony, empty except for a broom and a mop. Spiderwebs cling onto the corners, shimmering under the pale winter sun. The railings are covered in dust.
Soobin leaves kimchi stew on the stove. It’s a bit bland, but Yeonjun doesn’t mind. Afterward, Yeonjun does the dishes and waits until his mind wakes up.
Yeonjun uses Soobin’s landline and calls Taehyun, who arrives during his lunch break. Taehyun takes a look at Yeonjun’s pajamas, unasked questions flooding his big eyes, but he still hands Yeonjun the spare key without any word, as if he could sense that Yeonjun doesn’t want to talk about it. Yeonjun stir-fries some beef for him in lieu of apologies.
When Taehyun leaves, Yeonjun gets back on his bed and stares at the wall.
Yeonjun kissed Soobin, and now what? He had his one chance and all he did was throw up. Yeonjun should feel embarrassed. He should feel like banging his head to the nearest wall and burying himself alive, something like that. But all he feels is an unfamiliar sense of sadness simmering in the pit of his stomach.
But maybe it was better that Yeonjun fucked up, after all. Yeonjun doesn’t have top sheets and his apartment is filled with trash that still needs to be recycled. Yeonjun is clumsy and he’s not really careful. Soobin… Soobin needs someone with steady hands who can hold him at night.
Yeonjun holds his breath and hides under the cover. Maybe it’s better that there is this wall between them.
𓃺
Yeonjun is in the middle of his second cigarette when there’s a tap on his shoulders.
“Aren’t you cold?” Soobin says. He is still in his shirt and dress pants; he must have just gotten off work. His cheeks are pink, and the puffer jacket he is wearing is too short for his frame. He’s so beautiful; Yeonjun wants him so much.
Soobin stands next to him. Their shoulders brush at the newfound distance and Yeonjun’s heart rattles against his ribcage.
“You didn’t leave any note today,” Soobin says, his voice lilt with sulkiness. “I was looking for it in front of my door, and every corner of my flat. There was no receipt.”
“I–” Yeonjun thinks. He has been thinking a lot today. About the kiss and Soobin’s dusty balcony. About Soobin, in general. “Soobin.” He finally says. “Why are you here? Do you need a smoke?”
Yeonjun’s breath mists the air. He flicks his cigarette.
“Of course. Do you have a lighter?”
“You have your own balcony.”
Soobin fidgets with his fingers. “You saw that.” Soobin mumbles, his eyes crinkling up. He stares at the cherry of Yeonjun’s cigarette before wrapping his fingers around Yeonjun’s wrist.
“Yeonjun,” Soobin says. “It was a lame excuse that I made up so I could spend some time with you. I like you. I have liked you since the first time I saw you feed Snowdrop in the hallway. But I never had the courage to ask you out until now.”
Soobin’s grip is steady. His smile is so bright, summer sunbeams amidst the darker winter days. Yeonjun stubs out his cigarette and glances at the sky.
“Then why now?” Yeonjun asks. The thought that Soobin wants to go out with him is a terrifying one. Why must it be him?
“Because…” Soobin says. Soobin’s hand is still so warm around his wrist but Yeonjun is shivering. “Because you gave me courage, Yeonjun. You kissed me last night, and it ignited something in me. You are really wonderful, do you know?”
Yeonjun clears his throat. “Soobin, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything, Yeonjun.” Soobin says, determined. “I just want you to know that I’d love to wake up next to you. Will you go out with me?”
Yeonjun checks the clock. It’s a quarter to five. He can’t answer that. He needs to get dressed and brush his hair before he can do that. He needs to stop smoking and clean his apartment, and maybe get a job with compensated lunches and large windows before he can go out with Soobin. It’s not time yet.
“I’m late for work,” Yeonjun says as he wriggles out of Soobin’s grip. “You are a good person, Soobin. Too good, actually. You should start making use of your own balcony.”
𓃺
“Yeonjun,” Kazuha leans over the counter. “That guy sitting in the corner wants your number. I already said no but he kept insisting.”
“Keep sending him away,” Yeonjun says. He places the mojito on the mat and gestures to Kazuha to take it.
“Well. He also wants to give you a note,” Kazuha says. She takes the mojito and hands Yeonjun a folded piece of paper.
Yeonjun frowns. He removes his gloves and opens it.
i still think you look pretty when you work. -S
When Yeonjun looks up, Soobin’s awful glasses are facing him.
“Soobin,” Yeonjun mumbles. This must be a dream. “Why are you here?”
“Because you haven’t answered my question. I just want an answer, Yeonjun,” Soobin says. There is determination in his eyes but his voice breaks a little. “You can reject me. Just tell me in the face. I know I’m really not what you expected.”
“Soobin, what the fuck are you talking about?” Yeonjun says. He searches Soobin’s face before looking down at his own hands. The insides are red and he can make out the green veins. “Of course you are not what I expected. You are more than what I expected. I don’t even know what you see in me. You’re just so… perfect. You’re too kind for me.”
Soobin’s eyes widen. “What are you talking about? You’re the kindest person that I have ever met. Yeonjun… you go out of your way to feed Snowdrop despite the trouble. You get her the most expensive stuff at the store while you buy yourself discount bread. I know. I keep all your receipts.”
Soobin’s hair falls across his glasses and Yeonjun wants to reach out to brush it away. Soobin looks at him for a long moment, before a smile finds its way on his face, warm and dizzy and kind. Roots grow out of Yeonjun’s heels and sink down on the floor. It has never crossed his mind that in anyone's eyes, he could be this beautiful. Soobin is a rare kind of person; maybe humanity is bound together by a universal kindness and there is a place for Yeonjun, after all.
“You know,” Soobin says after a while. “I am actually not perfect. I am forgetful and I don’t know how to recycle properly. I lied to you about my balcony because I wanted to smoke with you. I don’t know why I did that – I don’t even smoke, Yeonjun.” Soobin closes his eyes. “I’m willing to show you all the parts of me that I still lack, and it’s up to you to decide if you still want to love me or not. Just know that I’m only one door away. All you have to do is knock.”
Soobin stands up and grabs his puffer jacket. He nods at Beomgyu before dashing out of the door.
Next to him, Beomgyu’s mouth is wide open. He nudges Yeonjun’s shoulder.
“Why is everyone in this place so goddamn stupid? Run after him. Are you still waiting for something to happen?”
So Yeonjun does. He unties his apron and rushes through the counter. Soobin is standing in front of the bar; glasses hung low on his nose.
Yeonjun holds Soobin's arm. Maybe if Soobin is willing to show Yeonjun all the parts that he still lacks, Yeonjun can try a little harder, too. It’s not every day someone this rare walked into the bar and asked for Yeonjun’s number.
“Soobin,” Yeonjun says. The wind stings his eyes and his voice is lost in the sounds of traffic. “I– I’m actually not very kind. I lie to my friends all the time because I hate to admit that they are right. I scold my staff for slacking off while I’m always late for work. I think– I think.” Yeonjun looks at Soobin’s face. He softens his grip and pulls Soobin close. “We’d make a great pair.”
“Oh." Soobin smiles, lovely. "I think the person that you should be kinder to is yourself, Yeonjun. Because I think you’re wonderful.”
Yeonjun has puked in front of Soobin’s door, but Soobin still wants him. Maybe Soobin won’t mind Yeonjun’s tinier apartment that is covered in cardboard boxes that are waiting to be recycled, or the bartending job that Yeonjun always thinks about quitting but he secretly loves. Yeonjun can’t wait to fall in love.
“Soobin… will you go out with me? I can't really wake up with you in the morning because I get home at dawn. Also, I can only do dinner once a week, usually on Tuesdays, but I can't even guarantee that. I hope you won’t mind.”
Soobin nods. He removes his awful glasses, and Yeonjun's heart is singing Soobin's name. When Soobin leans over and kisses him, one hand caressing the side of his cheek, Yeonjun doesn’t think he is going to throw up this time.
𓃺
That night, Yeonjun comes home not to a note on his doormat, but with Soobin sitting there, body curled into halves.
“You've got a message for me?”
“Yeah. You're so beautiful," Soobin says. He opens the door to his apartment, pulls Yeonjun inside and kisses Yeonjun senseless. Yeonjun’s mouth smells like cigarettes and tap beer but if Soobin doesn’t care, he won’t.
Soobin finally stops when their lips are bruised. “Sorry,” he says, thumb pressing against Yeonjun’s bottom lip. “I was too rough. I was thinking about kissing you all night.”
Yeonjun smiles until he can’t feel his cheeks. His heart is so soft, molten and gooey, marshmallows in hot chocolate.
Soobin’s dusty balcony glimmers under the streetlights as Soobin wraps his arms around Yeonjun's waist.
Yeonjun doesn’t dare to dream high that often, but there is a little hope in him. He hopes that, one day, he will move in with Soobin somewhere they can adopt Snowdrop. He hopes that the place will have its own private balcony, clean with high railings, where Yeonjun will grow his own mint so he won’t have to worry about wilted mint leaves.
But that is for the future, Yeonjun thinks. Right now, Soobin is licking into his mouth again and Yeonjun only needs to focus on that. He knows he has all the time in the world to figure everything out.