Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Shut up- shut up- shut up-” “No, I’m serious it was like a fire engine.” “And a mullet!” “No way!” “Nah, but he rocked it though.” “Cookie me! I need cookies!” “Hanse looks good in everything.” “I do, but that doesn’t mean we have to show-” “Oh, cute!” “Wait- Dude! This is my song, turn it up-” “Ha! Oh my god-” “-yes, yes-” “Byung, stop twerking-” “Wh- Come on, Byung there’s children here.” “Yeah, Chan’s virgin eyes can’t be corrupted by your flat butt-” “My butt is not flat.” “Can someone pass me another cookie?”

General chaos wraps around the Newvoice ensemble as the laze around the rocky shore of the quarry. Happiness and alcohol twine together to wrap the boisterous bunch in a pleasant buzz.

“Crap, we’re almost out,” Sejun chuckles. He got prime real estate: a spot by the cooler - but, consequently, he’s on snack passing duty. Being the only sober one of the bunch, it’s probably for the best that he’s administering them.

“No!” Subin wails, flailing his limbs wildly. “They’re so good…” He pouts.

With the high cliff faces surrounding them, they’d been plunged into shade long before the sun had actually started setting. Finally, after hours of swimming, lazing around, eating, and playing drinking games, the orange light peeking out from above the trees tells them: it’s time to go.  Chan’s spent the past half hour yawning, and Byungchan’s almost exhausted his catalogue of girl group dances.

“Alright kids, it’s starting to get dark, we should probably go soon,” Sejun tries to rally the troops.

“I don’t wanna,” Subin protests. For whatever reason, this prompts Hanse to jab his fingers in the kid’s sides, causing his body to jolt. “Ah- Hey! Stop! That tickles- That- Wah! You’re so mean!”

“Aw, is our little Subinnie a little tipsy?” Hanse antagonizes the youngest.

“You’re a little tipsy,” Subin fires back with a pout.

“A little?” Chan laughs from behind them, “He was a little tipsy like three hours ago. He’s full blown now.”

“Yeah, I’m at full mast,” Hanse adds.

“Ew,” Byungchan, the only one among the drunks to actually be picking up scrunches his nose. Subin, on the other hand, finds the immature joke hilarious and bursts out laughing. He turns to putty in Hanse’s teasing hands, resulting in a jumble of flailing limbs. “Who let you in- who let them in?!” Byungchan wails.

“I dunno, but if you guys don’t start picking up the trash, you’re walking home,” Sejun says sternly. The riotous trio halts like a DVD that had the pause button hit. Chan huffs while Hanse and Subin disentangle their arms and legs.

“Yes, sir!” Hanse clumsily salutes to Sejun when he’s finally on his own. The gesture would no doubt be an insult to any real officer of the military, but luckily for them it’s just sober Sejun.

“Ack, I think I got a bit burned on my shoulders,” Chan groans as he ambles over to their sitting area to collect trash.

“Really? I think I’m fine,” Subin replies.

“Well Sejun set you a sunscreen alarm,” Chan pouts.

“You could’ve gotten out of the water, too!” Sejun calls out from the distance. He’d already started walking toward the car.

“Hey, wait up!” “Wait for me!” “We’re leaving you.” “I call shotgun!”

The other four scramble to get their stuff together. Soon, the place looks no different than it had before they’d arrived (save for the setting sun). Almost all of the food they had brought had been eaten. All that had survived the afternoon was half a baguette, a few cans of beer, and two cookies. They’d stuffed their trash into a bag and said bag occupied one of the coolers Sejun had brought.

“Wh- No fair, he got a head start!” “Come on!” “Subin, climb on my back, it’ll be faster.” “You’re gonna drop me!” “Climb on my back - I’m stronger.” “Really, guys?” “He’s gonna get aux at this rate- someone needs to catch him.” “I’m falling- I’m falling-” “I’ve got you!” “We’re gonna have to listen to his girl group playlist again. If I have to hear that stupid song one more time-” “Onward my noble steed!” “Stop kicking me-”

Sejun turns around, witnessing the chaos unfold before him. He’s confident that they’ll reach the car. Eventually. Until then, he can laugh at the spectacle. For an instant, he’s terrified Subin will actually get hurt, and it occurs to him that they’re returning the Jung Subin home drunk.

“Uh-” Sejun calls to Subin, “Subin, is anyone gonna see you like this when you get home?”

Chan (who’d so nobly taken up the role of Subin’s steed) stops suddenly. Hanse does, too, for some reason. Byungchan - who’d been next to Sejun - gasps.

Subin looks around, a devilish grin on his face, “Maybe.”

“Wh- Dude, we’re not trying to get you in trouble!” Sejun replies, throwing his hands up.

“Don’t worry about it. Only Mr. Lee would notice, and he’s not gonna say anything,” Subin’s grin is cheshire-like. “Now,” He looks down at Chan under him, “Take me home! Yip-yip!” He digs his heel into Chan’s side.

“Wh- Ow! You’re so demanding!” Chan snorts, clumsily lumbering forward.

“Faster, faster!” Subin ignores the other’s plight, pointing a finger forward triumphantly. “To el dorado!”

“Ow!” “Damn he’s got you whipped.” “Shut up.” “Hope you guys like bubblegum pop.” “No- No!” “Yes.” “Someone stop him.” “Sejun can you please veto his music choice?!” “We listened to your stupid indie hip-hop on the way here.” “It’s not stupid, it’s poetry!” “Yeah!”

Sejun rolls his eyes, turning around to go back toward his car. Idiots. They’re all idiots. Sighing in defeat, he concedes: but they’re my idiots.

“Bye Subin!” Byungchan waves out the window.

“Bye Subinnie,” Chan makes exaggerated kissy faces to the youngest. Subin’s nose scrunches as he gets out of Sejun’s car. The trip to Jung Manor or whatever it’s called had been boisterous for a while. However, as time ticked on, the energy dwindled, and soon alcohol had done what it so often does: it made them real sleepy. Combined with the setting of the sun and the steady rumble of the car, it made for the perfect nap recipe. Byungchan had miraculously stayed awake, but the same couldn’t be said for Chan and Subin in the back. By some strange misfortune, Hanse had been the one in the middle. Consequently, he had not one, but two drooling drunks using his shoulders as pillows.

When they’d finally gotten back to the Jung mansion, Hanse had to jostle them awake. Though they’re slightly groggy, their farewells are no less heartfelt for it.

“Bye sweetie,” Hanse jokes, “Have fun at school!”

“I’m gonna challenge the biggest kid in the cafeteria to a fight,” Subin calls back, grabbing his cooler and bookbag from the popped trunk.

“That’s my boy! Wait- wait- hold up!”

“What?” Subin asks, shutting the trunk before he crosses back over to the open door.

“You need to text me your gamertag- All of your IGNs.”

“If you want to get smacked around that badly-”

“He loves getting smacked,” Chan adds impishly, getting him an elbow in the rib courtesy of Hanse.

“I’ll text ‘em to you,” Subin says with another giggle.

“Wait- Do you need help with those?” Sejun asks, looking over his shoulder from the driver’s seat.

“Nah, I’m good. I am strong man,” Subin flexes his noodle-like arm to accentuate his point.

“...Right.”

“Mr. Lee will help me when I get in. Buh-bye!” The youngest waves flamboyantly as he skips away.

“Buh-bye!” “Bye!” “I love you!”

“Bye now!” Subin calls back to the chorus of farewells.

“Bye!” “Bye, king!” “Bye.”

“Byeee-!” Subin yells until he reaches the door.

Sejun waits until the door shuts behind Subin to start the car again. It reminds Hanse that the car’s door is still open, so he closes it.

“Love that kid,” Byungchan is the first to break the brief spell of silence as they pull away.

“Right?” “Such a good kid.” “He’s good people.” “I feel like I’ve known him for way longer.”

The Jung Estate slowly disappears from view, its lit windows and yard soon being obscured by thick woods. Among the longtime locals, a consensus is reached:

Jung Subin is one of us now.

He’s carved out a niche in their collective heart and, whether he likes it or not, they’re not letting him go. Vague, nonsensical chatter fills the car as the roll away. The stop newly invigorates them as they go off on some other tangent, arguing about everything and nothing at the same time. Soon, they reach what looks like a real road again - that is, they’re finally out of Subin’s driveway.

There’s just a few rays of sun left to color the sky. Their fleeting tones of deep amber just barely tint the bottom of the sky, threatened by the tones of blue and deep midnight just beyond. Orangey street lights crop up out of the ground every so often. Town had never cared much for lights, but with all the critters roaming close to the streets, they’d installed what seem to be the bare minimum amount. The windows are cracked, and the fresh scent of cut grass mingles with the dank undertone of humidity, blowing into the car gently.

“-it is!” Byungchan hollers.

“It is not,” Chan snickers back. Hanse had zoned out for a minute and lost track of the conversation. “Back me up on this!”

“Wh- Whoa, whoa- what is going on?” Hanse scrunches his nose, humored.

“Byungchan keeps insisting that black is a valid favorite color. It’s not. It’s a neutral and it’s cheating,” Chan says pointedly toward the passenger seat.

“What? Black is totally a favorite color.”

“Wh-” Chan gasps, “It’s, like, not even a color!”

“Are you guys really arguing over colors ?” Sejun laughs from the driver’s seat.

“Yes!” “Yes!” “Yes we are!” All three shout in unison.

“Okay! Dang- I’m sorry I asked, jeez,” Sejun snorts, zipping his lips shut.

“It is a color, by the way,” Hanse snorts.

“Black is literally the absence of color. A total. Absence. Of color,” Chan answers emphatically, like winning the argument is the most important thing in his life at that moment.

Byungchan adds, “Okay, but in regards to wardrobe-”

“It’s a neutral!” Chan argues. Hanse is a hundred percent certain he’s being contrary for the sake of it. Chan’s like that, he likes being loud and obnoxious for the sake of it. He goes off on tangents all the time and won’t let go of a point until it’s thoroughly fleshed out. That’s part of what Hanse likes so much about him.

“Why can’t a neutral be a favorite color?” Hanse asks.

“Because! That’s cheating! It matches everything that’s like saying white rice is your favorite food!”

“Well, some people like plain white rice. Do you have a problem with that?”

“White rice is not a favorite food it is- it’s like a side dish.”

“Rice is not a side dish.”

“Really? Because my work sells it by itself. You know what section of the menu it’s under?”

“Oh my god-”

“The sides, Hanse. Sides. Side dish. Neutrals are the side dish of colors.”

“Love how you brought that back to the main argument,” Hanse comments, nose scrunched with laughter.

“Thank you, I try-”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re right!”

“Okay, wow. Really?”

“If someone says their favorite dish is kimchi, would you chastise them and tell them it’s not a real dish?”

“W-well-”

“Ah-ha!”

“Kimchi isn’t bland, though!”

“White rice has a flavor, it’s just mild. Like that of neutral colors.”

“White rice is not the center of a dish, ever. There isn’t white rice flavored stuff like there’s kimchi-”

“Screech!” Suddenly, the car comes to a complete halt. Hanse’s body jerks forward, straining against the seatbelt at the sudden braking. Chan does the same, with the added misfortune of kissing the front seat.

“What the heck?!” “What was that?!” The two in the back groan. Byungchan and Sejun just snicker.

“Get out,” Sejun says. Hanse and Chan exchange looks, then glance out the car windows. They’re at the end of Chan’s street. It’s sleepier than most others with only one street light in the very middle of it. The houses are a bit  further apart, and there’s no sidewalk.

“Shut up,” Chan responds with a laugh. Byungchan is beside himself, giggling like a hyena in the front seat.

“No! Get out! You two have spurned me for the last time! I sentence thee to a lengthy walk down the street!”

“Wh- Both of us?” Hanse asks, part bewildered, part amused.

“Yes! Begone!” Sejun insists.

“Are you kidding m-”

“Begone! I will not move this vehicle until-”

“Oh my god, fine!” Hanse admits defeat first, throwing his hands up. “Drama king.”

“You’re gonna make us walk?” Chan groans.

“You could use the exercise, lazy ass,” Hanse jokes. Chan’s shoulders shake as he chuckles.

“Oh my god get out!” Byungchan reaches a lanky arm between the seats to swat at them.

“Okay, fine! Fine!” “We’re going!” Hanse and Chan clumsily stumble out of the sudan. The trunk is popped before they even get out, and no sooner than they shut it - after getting their stuff - does Sejun start speeding away.

“Wh- Hey!” Chan gasps. Hanse does the same, mouth falling wide open as he watches his friend steer off. Byungchan does them the courtesy of waving goodbye out the window, his loud laughter echoing all the way to the end of the cross street until they turn a corner.

The sun’s basically gone, the only memory of it the lingering heat radiating off of the pavement. Hanse and Chan exchange entertained expressions before turning heel toward Chan’s place at the end of the street.

“Rude,” Chan laughs, hoisting his bookbag up onto his shoulder more securely.

“Right? The utter disrespect. It’s like nobody appreciates a good battle of- of wits,” Hanse respond.

It feels impossibly quiet on the deserted street. There’s no blasting stereo or tittering Byungchan. Nobody has a dog out in their yard, and there isn’t even a breeze to rustle the leaves. The only things occupying that street are one faintly buzzing street light and two buzzed young men.

This is pleasant, Hanse thinks. He didn’t realize how nice quiet would be after spending the entire day surrounded by rambunctious chatter. The night air smells nice, and he feels at ease with only Chan in his company. Being with Chan isn’t like being with the others. The two know each other so well, hanging out with him is as easy as breathing air. They can game together, watch stuff, or just ignore one another on their laptops together. Hanse can’t do that with anyone else.

I wonder if Subinnie’s more introverted or extroverted? Hanse muses. I guess he’s pretty shy since he never talked to us. At least, not until I sat on a cake…

“Subin is cool,” Hanse blurts out. The thought had been at the forefront of his mind, and his drunk lips let it slip out. Woops. It’s a bit candid, but Hanse knows Chan had heard weirder from him, so he doesn’t let it bother him.

“Yeah, he actually is,” Chan agrees. There’s a small, warm grin across his lips. “I dunno, I thought he’d be stuck up or something.”

“Well he’s rich. That’s the stereotype, right?”

“I guess. I just mean- he never talked to you guys for forever. You have to wonder what he’s thinking.”

“Guess I see what you mean. I think you’re prejudiced, though,” Hanse teases, rocking his body to the side so his shoulder bumps Chan’s.

Chan chuckles, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Prejudiced against rich people… And neutral colors-”

“Oh my god- you know I was just spouting crap, right?” Chan laughs.

“You do nothing but spout crap,” Hanse smirks, “Of course I know.”

“It’s funny, though. Byungchan was all riled up.”

“Yeah, yeah. It was funny then. Now we’re walking to your place.”

“Well, you had to butt in-”

“You asked me to!”

“Did I?”

Hanse shoves Chan to the side playfully as an answer.

“Ugh, this abuse!” Chan exclaims, giving Hanse a light shove back.

“Wh- Don’t be rude!”

“You’re ruder.”

“Shut up. You’re on thin ice, Heo Chan. Careful or I’ll make Jung Subin my new friend.”

“Ugh- That’s unfair,” Chan jokingly scoffs.

“Then maybe try not being a moron once in awhile.”

“I- You’re asking a lot of me there.”

“I know-”

“With you sucking all of the oxygen out of the air, it’s hard to function.”

“Hey, that’s another strike!” Hanse kicks Chan this time, just a light nudge on the calf, really.

“You’re the one striking me- this is abuse!”

“You’re abusive to me! Dragging me into arguments, making my delicate feet walk on such garish pavement all the way to your house!”

“Psh- Oh, you wanna crash by the way?” Chan digresses to a more pressing topic.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to do my place, but since we got dumped here -”

“Okay-”

“Because of someone- ”

“Uh-huh.”

“Guess I’ll take your hospitality!”

“Good!” Chan makes a show of huffing and crossing arms. “I hope you do!”

“I mean it’s no mansion-”

“Hey! That’s not fair.”

“-and you’re not as cute as Subinnie-”

“-Also not fair! Subin is- is cute.” Chan’s cheer sort of breaks a bit, alarming Hanse immediately. He turns to actually look at the other with a quirked eyebrow. Why did he hesitate there? Of course, by the time he glances at his friend’s face, Chan already looks normal.

“Subin’s the cutest,” Hanse says. It’s masked as a joking comment, but he uses it to pry a bit. Is it something about Subin? Does Chan not like Subin? Or is the alcohol just making Hanse overly suspicious?

Chan chuckles, looking Hanse in the eye with a grin,“ You’re the cutest.”

Suspicious. Hanse was definitely over suspicious, he decides. Chan reaches out suddenly, pinching Hanse’s cheek.

Hanse’s face scrunches as he laughs,“Ow! Who said you could touch me?! Lowly peasant…”

Laughter echoes across the empty street as the two meander at a sluggish pace toward Chan’s house. Their bodies joggle and jerk with every little push, tickle, and jab they afflict on one another. All the while, a sweet buzz settles into Hanse’s veins. He can tell it’s not just alcohol - it’s more than that. The tickling sensation courses throughout his entire body. Contented happiness. He wishes he could bottle it or bathe in it, but he knows it’s fleeting. It’ll fade eventually. Maybe it’ll last until he falls asleep or until the mood changes. He doesn’t know.

All he does know is that he wishes life could be like this all the time: a warm summer evening, a belly full of food and liquor, a precious person and a full night ahead of him. It’s like an ideal existence. Even if only for a little bit, Hanse relishes in the feeling for as long as he can.

Huh Gak’s… Huh Gak’s…

Seungwoo tosses the name around in his head like it’s some crazy, foreign tongue. He’s bored. He’s beyond bored. He’d gone for a jog, he’d played games, he’d napped, worked out more… Seungwoo’s afraid that if he adds any more exercise into his days, he’s going to start burning muscle. The sun has just started setting, and his stomach grumbles, crying out for much needed sustenance.

When he had traipsed over to his tiny pantry, Seungwoo was given a stark reminder that he hadn’t grocery shopped. There’s a small local grocer along the square, but it’s nothing compared to the expansive places he’s used to. He’d looked up to see where the nearest supermarket is, but it’s a fifteen minute drive away.

Fifteen minutes. In a car . In city travel time that’s insane.

By the time Seungwoo had gathered the motivation to shop at the local spot, it had been closed. Hence, he had found himself face to face with a pathetically dismal pantry.

Huh Gak’s, the tavern on the corner. Seungwoo had remembered. The baker told him that the food was good, and he was in need of good food. He figures the options wouldn’t be healthy, but he could regret it later. With all the calories he’s burning from sheer boredom, he may just keep his six-pack yet.

Reluctantly, Seungwoo sits up in his bed. Newfound determination sets into his bones: he’s gonna check out the tavern. He imagines it’s sort of a dive, but it’ll break the tedium at least a little. His t-shirt is sort of crumpled from lazing around in bed, and his sweats ran a tad too far up his ankle (he’d had them since high school).

Meh. Good enough. He decides. If he was still in the city he’d put at least some effort in, but out here in the country? He gets the impression that dark jeans are considered flashy around town.

Hoisting his body up off of bed, Seungwoo grabs his wallet and phone. He checks his reflection in a mirror he’d hung on the wall and concludes that he is looking like his most okayest self. With a shrug, he strides out the door, nearly forgetting to lock it behind himself.

Stepping out into the evening air, Seungwoo passes through an invisible threshold of sticky humidity. It’s clear that the sun had busied itself roasting the earth beneath it all day, and it had finally just started to retire. Still, remains of the sticky day linger in the air stubbornly like a reminder that a long summer is ahead of them. Seungwoo takes a deep breath before descending the fire escape. Even though his steps are behind a building, it doesn’t smell like trash or grime. The scent of the trees along the square drift into his nose along with a sharp note of grass clippings. Not bad. That is one thing Seungwoo has to give the sleepy town: it’s clean. There’s no trash blowing in the wind, and it doesn’t reek of car exhaust or wet asphalt. Crickets replace the honking car horns and frogs the ambulance alarms.

Seungwoo sighs as he reaches the sidewalk, glancing across the square. It’s not quite closing time (which ranges between seven and nine he’d learned), but a few of the retail shops are already sweeping up front. Newvoice Bakery is one of the few places that’s already completely closed. Apparently, it closes at five on Saturdays.

I hope that baker left already , Seungwoo thinks. He sees him there all the time. It’s excessive, really. He almost pities the guy, but based on his personal experience, working can’t be much worse than being bored at home. He wonders: what does the baker do in his spare time? He’s just around Seungwoo’s age, but it’s not like there’s any clubs or even PC bangs around. Maybe he games at home - or does he not game at all?

Seungwoo decides to ditch the line of thought, searching the opposite side of the square for the tavern he’d been told about. He finds it quickly - it’s pretty conspicuous. It’s one of the few places with neon signage, and there are actually people in the vicinity. A few small clusters and cliques stand outside, smoke twirling up from their cigarettes. As he gets closer, Seungwoo hears a steady beat, muffled through the windows.

The city boy keeps his head down as he approaches, hoping people don’t look at him like some sort of pariah because he’s new around there and alone. The last thing he needs is some rando trying to spark a conversation. He’d already gotten it a lot, and he’s pretty sick of it. Yes, he’d tell them, I’m new. He basically has a script at this point, a list of things to rattle off until people leave him the heck alone.

Stepping into the tavern, some decades old music echoes in the space. It seems pretty small, but not claustrophobic. Cozy, almost. Booths line the walls, and between it and the bar a few cab tables. Almost everything is dark wood and that, combined with the dim lighting and candles lit at the center of tables, makes the entire place wrap around a person. A couple of TVs are mounted to the wall, and a football game is playing. It’s not a gentle hug like the bakery but more of a thick, thick blanket. The smell of fried food and smoke floats into his nose, and even though he keeps a strict diet, the fried chicken makes Seungwoo’s mouth water.

Anxiously, Seungwoo approaches the bar. He swears he remembers being told that the place does takeout. He prays it does, because he’s not about to sit down and eat alone. It’s not that he minds it -on the contrary, he quite likes it. It’s just that, for some reason, people seem to think a lone diner at a bar is inviting them to join. It’s annoying! Seungwoo’s tried to dine and drink alone with a book, but more often than not he ends up getting roped into uncomfortable small talk. Or worse, getting hit on.

A husky man probably thirty-ish years old stands behind the bar, tapping away at a POS system. He wears a flannel and an apron is tied around his waist. Another person works the bar with him, a young, pretty woman.

The newcomer taps his fingers on the counter, eyes darting around awkwardly. Luckily, his wait isn’t too long, and after handing off a ticket to the other bartender, the older gentleman turns to Seungwoo.

“Evening,” He says genially, a warm smile on his face. “You’re new here, huh?”

Oh joy , Seungwoo groans internally, here it comes.

“Yup,” Seungwoo replies curtly.

“I think I’ve heard whisperings of a new kid in town. You’re doing hours at the Healing Center, right?”

New kid in town? What is this, a movie?! It more than sort of irks Seungwoo that a complete stranger knows where he works. Apparently, it’s written on his face, because the guy elaborates.

“A lot of the girls stop by after work,” He tells Seungwoo.

Oh, right. This is, like, the spot. My seniors probably come here all the time… He starts to wonder what they’ve said about him.

“They’ve mentioned me?” Seungwoo asks, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s prying.

The man chuckles mirthfully, “Only good things, I promise.”

“Good to know,” Seungwoo replies politely.

“Oh- The name’s Huh Gak, by the way,” The man - Huh Gak - finally introduces himself.

Named the place after yourself? Modest. “Um, Seungwoo,” He nods deeply in hopes that it’s respectful enough.

“Nice to meet you, Seungwoo. What brings you in tonight?”

“I, um, I heard you had pretty good food to take home…” Why do I suddenly have regrets?

“Well, you heard right. Usually people call ahead, but it shouldn’t take too long. Fifteen minutes tops,” Huh Gak slides a long menu his way. Seungwoo scans the menu which is packed with all types of typical anju: bulgoki, ramyun, rice, wings, and a bunch of other sides. The student purses his lips as he studies it, thinking of the least offensive thing possible. It’s not that it doesn’t sound delicious - it all does - but he tries to keep himself within his diet as much as possible.

It’s the weekend, isn’t it? I guess I can splurge a bit on calories… “Um, may I have the fried chicken to go, please?”

“I’ll put that right in for you,” The bartender says jovially. “Would you like a drink while you’re waiting?”

Seungwoo opens his mouth to say no, but suddenly something crops up in the corner of his eye. He glances over to the far end of the bar. There’s not a lot of people at the bar proper - most of them have nestled themselves into booths or crowded around high tables. Just one person sits at the far end, kind of alone, isolated from the world. With how the lights are set up, that far corner is sort of cast in shadow. He sits in his little corner of the world, head propped up on his hand as he looks at his laptop screen idly. The blue-white light reflects off of his glasses in tiny, glowing squares on the lenses. His lips hang open ever so slightly, and his hair falls onto his forehead. It’s the baker.

“Yeah, I’ll have a beer.”

Wait, what?! It’s too late by the time Seungwoo realizes what he’d actually said. Huh Gak is smiling at him, adding his drink to the ticket and telling the young lady beside him to serve the man. The world moves in slow motion, and Seungwoo stands paralyzed in a daze until the aforementioned beer slams down onto the bar in front of him.

“Here you go,” The young lady says.

“Thanks,” Seungwoo replies politely. He grabs his beer, glancing over at the end of the bar again.

The baker, Seungsik, seems pretty much in his own world. Interrupting him would be rude. Right? Or would it be more rude to totally ignore him - after all, they are acquaintances. Sort of. So maybe their association is more like a badly suppressed one-sided infatuation on Seungwoo’s part, but the baker doesn’t know that! What does he think? Seungwoo wonders.

“Oh, Seungsik. You know him?” The bartender - Huh Gak - interrupts Seungwoo’s musings.

“Wh- Oh, I, um- I see him at the bakery.”

“Ah, of course. The guy’s a genius with a dough. I tried to steal him for a bit, actually… Didn’t work out, though!” Huh Gak chuckles.

“Hm,” Seungwoo grunts in response. He isn’t sure if he’s really a part of the conversation, or if Huh Gak just likes talking.

“A nice kid, though. If you’re new in town, getting in with him isn’t a bad idea,” The bartender lowers his voice, smirking, “You’ll get lots of free baked goods out of it.”

That is the exact opposite of what I need in my life. After his unfortunate little jolt of static electricity, Seungwoo had mulled over his brief encounters with the baker for, well, longer than he’d like to admit. The coffee at the bakery is good, and stopping by also let him do some further research into his weird… Itch. He’d concluded that the baker’s weird magnetism has less to do with individual charm than it does Seungwoo’s bored loneliness. Yup. He’d decided to be friendly, but not friends, per se. Befriending the baker would give Seungwoo two things he definitely does not need in his life:

Carbohydrates and baggage.

“Heh- Well, it’s probably not nice to exploit someone for their baking skills.”

“You made any other friends around here yet?” Huh Gak asks. Seungwoo raises his eyebrows, a bit taken aback by the brazen question. It’s probably not meant to sound so blunt, but it definitely comes across that way. It almost sounds like a challenge, like he’s saying, “you probably can’t make any friends around here if you can’t even make nice with the damn baker”.

Seungwoo’s lips pout unconsciously, and he glances over to Seungsik again, “I’m still just getting to know everyone.”

“Of course,” The barkeep answers, “Well, I’m going to check on orders. Grab one of us if you need anything!” With that, he disappears through a door leading into the kitchen behind the bar.

Seungwoo is alone again.

The cool condensation against his fingertips reminds him that he’d mindlessly ordered a beer. He frowns at the frothy head of the bubbling amber liquid, heaving a sigh. Defeatedly, he takes a gulp. Bitterness fills his mouth. The sharp, puckering sensation smacks him around a bit, waking up his senses.

Seungwoo’s eyes drift over to the edge of the bar again.

He’s bored. So damn bored. He’s been bored, and it’s been, what, between one and two weeks? Despite what logic tells him, the idea plants itself in his head: maybe, just maybe, making friends with someone wouldn’t be so bad. The baker seems pretty busy, so it’s not like he’d get harassed at all hours of the day. Just a drinking buddy, or someone to talk about football with would be cool. Plus, knowing someone can help make navigating town and the vast, verdant expanse beyond it a bit less daunting.

Screw that bartender , Seungwoo tells himself. I’ll show him that I can make friends.

Seungwoo throws on the most aloof exterior he possibly can as he saunters over to the end of the bar. He’s done this move a zillion times - the nonchalant, cool swagger. It’s like walking but with purpose. The move just enough to let someone know that he’s there without yelling it. He occupies the space and tells them, nonverbally, that he knows they’re occupying the space, too. When the tension finally mounts to become too unbearable, the other person almost always cracks. If they don’t, it’s usually because they’re too drunk to notice.

He’ll probably take a second since he’s on his laptop , Seungwoo reminds himself as he slides into the spot next to Seungsik.

Seungsik’s eyes remain fixed on his laptop almost tiredly. Seungwoo sort of wants to snoop, but resists the temptation - it’s not like it matters anyway. Instead, the student watches the football game on. He sips his beer casually and even looks down at his phone.

Without warning, a few minutes pass by without a single word. Seungwoo actually blinks with pique.

Wait, has he really not… Noticed? Seungwoo, brows furrowed, looks at the guy sitting beside him. The baker yawns tiredly, completely oblivious. He knocks back a gulp of his own beer before going back to his laptop.

There’s someone right next to you - how do you not notice?! Seungwoo has been the one to initiate contact every time before, he’d wanted it to maybe be the other way around for once. (Never mind that the contact initiated is fumbled retail interactions.) Patience dwindling, Seungwoo starts contemplating how he’s gonna amble over to the opposite side of the bar without humiliating himself. He sure as heck didn’t saunter over to be ignored, and just standing there exerts the familiar pressure of anxiety against his chest. Suddenly, he becomes overly conscious of how weird it is to go to one side of the bar, then back to the other with no meaningful purpose. For some reason, Seungwoo feels weirdly watched, and the thought of someone noticing the weird action fills him with dread.

“H-hey,” Seungwoo chokes out all of a sudden. He snaps his lips shut, and his eyes even go wide; he’d surprised even himself by speaking up. At the very least, he doesn’t go ignored. The baker stirs, eyebrows rising as he turns his head. Seungwoo can see the look of surprise dawn on the other’s features.

“Oh,” Is the first thing the baker says. “O-Oh, um, hi.” He sits up straighter and turns his body slightly.

“Hi,” Seungwoo replies, and he swears his voice squeaks a bit. Crap. “Sorry to interrupt, I just… Saw a familiar face.” It’s a good enough explanation, he thinks. After all, he is new in town (a fact that is apparently branded on his forehead or something).

“N-no you’re fine,” The baker says, flashing a small grin. Even though it’s just a tiny gesture out of courtesy, it’s stunning. Something about his smile is really captivating.  “I see you took my advice,” He sounds almost smug - except, there’s no way a guy like that would be smug. Right? The baker is so damn disarming, Seungwoo finds it hard to believe he’d say or do anything that wasn’t nice.

“Yeah, well, you’re a few doors down. If anyone knows what they’re talking about it’s you, right?”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” Seungsik chuckles. It’s surprisingly low - actually, his entire voice is. Looking at him, Seungwoo would never have thought his voice would be like that. “Me, always being right.”

“Hey, I never said that,” Seungwoo quips back. “I have yet to see if you’re right about this place.”

“Oh, I will be. But I’ll let you find that out for yourself. What’d you get.”

Seungwoo shrugs, “Just fried chicken.”

“Yum,” Seungsik hums, “Can’t go wrong with that. Ugh, I haven’t had his fried chicken in forever…” He pouts, and it’s adorable.

“No? What do you usually get?”

“Lately? Just sides and a drink. Beer is enough of a splurge for me. Everything’s good, though.”

“A splurge? Are you on a diet?” Wait- that’s not appropriate to ask! Seungwoo curses himself for prying all of a sudden.

The baker seems just as taken aback, blinking a few times before answering. His cheeks flush a little.

“Y-yeah. I mean, not, like, anything special. Just. Healthy.”

“Huh,” Seungwoo nods, taking a sip of his beer. “That’s good. I’d have thought since you were a baker you wouldn’t be so healthy.”

“Because- what? Do you think I sustain myself on sweets?” Seungsik’s brows furrow slightly. That’s not a good sign. Seungwoo wonders if he offended him. He doesn’t see why; it was a compliment.

“I don’t know,” He answers sheepishly with a shrug. Even though his words had been innocent, he feels weirdly embarrassed in hindsight. “I- I guess I just figured dedicating your life to, like, carbohydrates, sugars, and fat would imply that you ate a lot.”

“Wow,” Seungsik looks genuinely awed. What? What did I say? “That’s an… Interesting take on the baking profession.”

“But is it inaccurate?” Seungwoo is weirdly determined to come out on top. He’s not sure when they entered a battle of wills, but he’s not about to lose.

“I don’t think anyone who goes into a culinary profession consciously thinks: ‘wow, I can’t wait to dedicate my life to carbohydrates’.”

“Swap out carbohydrates for bread, proteins for barbecue.”

“What is it you do again?” Seungsik swerves the conversation, and honestly Seungwoo’s glad.

“Physical therapy - well, almost. Still doing clinic hours-”

“Does anyone ever tell you your job is just a dedication to recovering muscle tissue and tendons?”

“Well, I mean, there’s a psychological aspect, not to mention the chemical reactions that-”

“Wow, okay, nevermind.”

“What? I’m answering your question.”

“You’re a bit obsessive, aren’t you?”

“About health? Yeah.”

“Compulsive, too.”

That doesn’t sound like a compliment. Seungwoo’s mood darkens, but whether out of boredom or desperation, he keeps talking.

“Whoa, that’s a strong word, don’t you think?” The student quips back. He fingers the rim of his glass, eyes briefly fixating on the frothy residue left on his downed beer.

“S-sorry. You just seem like the blunt type, figured you could take it,” Seungsik backpedals with an awkward chuckle. It’s like he wants to be savage but can’t commit. That’s adorable. Seungwoo’s so used to people being unabashedly cold and cutting. It surprises him that the other even apologized at all.

Well, he’s not wrong , Seungwoo has to concede. He still feels a little sore from the misplaced jab, but shakes it off. What does he care if some irrelevant local thinks he’s a bit too anal retentive? He’s gonna be gone in three months time anyways.

“Okay, okay. I see you, baker,” Seungwoo replies. “So there’s some spice to curb that sweetness.” Immediately, nerves plunge Seungwoo’s heart down to his feet. Did he really just say “spice to curb that sweetness”? That’s not even a good line. Heck, it’s not even kinda good. To make matters worse, some drippy ballad comes on, and the realization that he’s inadvertently flirting with the damn baker makes Seungwoo want to disappear more. He ventures a glance sideways and the baker looks just as awestricken as the student feels. Great. Seungsik looks like he’s at a loss for words, and Seungwoo can’t even blame him. He’s pretty sure if someone dropped that kind of comment on him, he’d just up and walk away. He needs to recover. Fast. Or else he’ll never be able to look the baker in the eye (which would be a damn shame since the bakery makes a good cup of coffee).

Fumbling, Seungwoo starts rambling, “S-sorry, I, um- That was-” Great. You’re doing great, Seungwoo. “I didn’t mean it like- to sound greasy, I just was surprised. You have a nice face.” It got worse. I made it worse! “Like- like kind. You look kind. Not that you have, like, a nice face.”

The baker bemusedly quirks an eyebrow, “So I don’t have a nice face?”

“Exactly,” Seungwoo nods, relieved.

The relief lasts for a blissful millisecond before he realizes what he’d implied.

“Wait, wait, no- I didn’t mean it like that. I meant- You seem nice. You. Seem. Nice. Sweet. Because of your face it’s very… Disarming.” That’s a better word, and he’s relieved when he finally finds it in his vocabulary.

“Disarming?” The baker looks more puzzled than anything at this point.

“Yeah. Disarming. Approachable.”

“Hm,” Is all the baker says.

It’s Seungwoo’s turn to be confused, and his brows knit together in puzzlement at the baker’s weird response. He locks up a bit, his body tensing and even turning slightly away. Seungsik does not want to talk anymore.

What did I say now? Seungwoo wonders when the last time flirting had ever exhausted him so much. He quickly dashes the thought from his head, reminding himself that he’s not flirting. He’s not. Any flirtatious behavior was accidental and unintentional. Period. End of story. He needs a friend, not an emotional ball and chain. Never mind that the guy next to him makes him weirdly nervous and lowkey a jumbled mess - he lives in the middle of nowhere. It’s not meant to be! The guy’s probably boring anyways. At the very least, he seems weirdly sensitive.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Seungwoo elaborates, hoping to pick up the shattered pieces of his attempted friendliness.

“Right, I get that,” Seungsik answers coldly. The frigidity makes a chill run down Seungwoo’s spine. What changed? The baker’s eyes return to his laptop.

Seungwoo downs the rest of his beer before responding, “What’s your problem, then?” Die! Die! Die! Why don’t you just die, Han Seungwoo! Just end it now! He’s fairly certain he’s suffering whiplash from his own impulsive, stupid words.

The baker blinks a few times indignantly before turning to Seungwoo again. He opens his mouth to say something, but a loud, chipper bark from behind the bar interrupts both of them.

“Fried chicken!” Huh Gak pops in to save the day, affable smile blossoming on his face. Seungwoo eyes the tied off bundle of plastic bags like a drowning man eyes a lifeline.

“Thank you,” Seungwoo blurts out, snatching the parcel quickly. He mutters something like a “goodbye” in his wake but doesn’t even look behind him as he bolts out of the tavern. Truthfully, he can’t bear to see the look on Seungsik’s face. Hopefully, nobody overheard them.

Seungwoo tunnels on the sight of his building across the square. If he didn’t have food in his hands, he’d have probably actually been running. Alas, the fragrant package in his hand necessitates some semblance of care. After a trot that feels way too long, Seungwoo reaches the steps of his apartment. He takes two at a time, and sweat drops down the back of his neck when he finally reaches the top.

Han Seungwoo… What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be nice for once? He laments as he lets himself in.

Pouting, the student sets his table for food, mulling over the entire little encounter. It’s not like he’d said anything that bad. Sure, he’d maybe accidentally flirted a little, but he can’t help it! Sometimes, things just come out naturally, they feel right. And so what if he’d called the baker approachable? Why had that warranted such coldness on the other’s part? Is being approachable an insult or something? Maybe he’s just overly sensitive. That seems more proper in Seungwoo’s eyes. Yeah , he thinks, that guy is probably easily insulted. Ugh. How annoying.

So much for making friends around here.

After his brief foray into the small town’s social life, Seungwoo decides: it’s not for him. He cedes that, ultimately, he’s destined to have a rather solitary few months - and that’s fine. He’s always been independent, and people just bother him half the time, anyways. Even his friends in the city get on his nerves after a while.

What if this is a time for detox? He wonders to himself. The concept sounds appealing. It’s almost like a working wilderness retreat. Learning by day and relaxing, alone, at night? Some people pay lots of money and travel far to do stuff like that.

Yup, we’re going with that, Seungwoo decides. No people, no distractions. Just him and work. A weird pang of pain stubbornly clings to the inside of his chest, but he convinces himself that it’s nothing.

He’s flying solo, and nothing’s gonna change that.

Sejun yawns, blinking away the tears that well up in his eyes. The wetness blurs the black terminal on his screen, making the white, fuchsia, and lime green text smear into neon splotches. After getting home, he’d decided to grind out some work - just some quick CSS for a client’s website, nothing drastic. As a freelancer, he sets his own hours, and time is money. He glances at the clock widget on his right monitor; “11:38” it displays.

“Guess Sik is passed out,” Sejun shrugs to himself. He stretches out a bit. His limbs feel the need to remind him that he’d spent the day swimming, (light) drinking, and generally dicking around. Thanks for that , he thinks in passing.

“Ding!”

Suddenly, his phone lights up. Sejun’s jaw drops when he sees who had sent the message.

“So you didn’t pass out,” He mutters as he opens his messenger app.

[Sikie]: yo quick question

Sejun raises a notched brow and taps out his response:

(You): im surprised ur up

[Sikie]: spent the evening at huh gaks

[Sikie]: went home. Got in a few rounds of lol

“Huh,” Sejun grunts in surprise as he types back.

(You): what’s up?

[Sikie]: i know this is weird but like

[Sikie]: what does it mean when someone describes u as… disarming?

(You): disarming??

[Sikie]: yea disarming

[Sikie]: approachable

(You): well maybe it means that person thinks youre… disarming and approachable? XD

[Sikie]: XD

(You): what?? What do you expect??

(You): did someone just like approach you and say these things?

(You): i need context here lol

[Sikie]: i was sitting at the bar on my laptop, per usual

“Lucky,” Sejun chuckles as he reads. He’s admittedly very jealous that Huh Gak gives the sacred wifi password to Seungsik. It’s not like it’s a PC cafe. Sejun figures that’s the “you and your family have been neighbors, friends, and patrons for literal decades” perk, though. Still. Lucky.

[Sikie]: and someone approaches me and uh

[Sikie]: yeah they said i looked nice. Approachable.

(You): disarming?

[Sikie]: they pretty emphatically used those words. Approachable and disarming.

(You): i can tell. They’ve imprinted on you heavily LOL

[Sikie]: ok but like why would you just. Say that to someone at a bar like.

[Sikie]: do u think its sarcastic…?

(You): do u think they were trying to pick you up?

[Sikie]: i think not…

[Sikie]: though they DID say something else

(You): ???

[Sikie]: it’s rly embarrassing actually

(You): youre killing me here

[Sikie]: i want to die just remembering it. Idk i said smth and they said back

[Sikie]: “guess you’ve got some spice to curb that sweetness.”

(You): YIKES

(You): how old was this person!?

[Sikie]: too young to be saying stuff like that

(You): LOL

(You): well i mean if theyre dropping lines like that, they def trying to flirt

[Sikie]: disarming

(You): approachable - yes, i remember XD

(You): did the disarming approachable come before or after the line?

[Sikie]: why does it matter??

(You): it definitely matters!

(You): if its before, they were like ramping up to flirting

(You): if its after, maybe they were trying to let off the gas a bit

[Sikie]: let off the gas?

(You): IDK WHAT WAS GOING ON I AM JUST GUESSING HERE

(You): look, my logic is this:

(You): if i want to flirt/compliment someone without being TOO greasy

(You): maybe id say more… idk weird stuff like “disarming” “approachable”

[Sikie]: as opposed to what?

[Sikie]: like is that REALLY a compliment?

(You): YES!

(You): someone shameless would go straight for “hot” or “sexy” or idk

(You): “what that mouth do” lmao

[Sikie]: omg shut up

(You): im serious!

(You): this person sounds sincere but also like

(You): terribly awkward

[Sikie]: idk he doesnt strike me as the awkward type

(You): im less concerned with this person and more curious abt summ else

[Sikie]: ??

(You): ur into this person arent you :^)

[Sikie]: wat

(You): why else would u be agonizing over these random comments?

[Sikie]: bc theyre WEIRD. Who hits on someone by saying theyre approachable?

(You): so you acknowledge that he WAS hitting on you

[Sikie]: I DONT KNOW

[Sikie]: hE WAS PROBABLY BORED?

(You): wow thats a very

(You): spicy take

[Sikie]: shut up

(You): i mean you even TEXTED ME about it

(You): this dude hot or what??

[Sikie]: or what

(You): fine be that way

(You): mr approachable

[Sikie]: yup thats me

[Sikie]: kang “approachable, disarming” seungsik

[Sikie]: :::)))

(You): u say it like its a bad thing

[Sikie]: mmm yes

[Sikie]: disarming and approachable

[Sikie]: i stay up at night dreaming to be called such things by a handsome man

(You): so he WAS handsome??

[Sikie]: the point

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: .

[Sikie]: you

(You): u kno it wouldnt KILL u to take a compliment

[Sikie]: was it rly a compliment?

(You): YES

(You): i mean probably. I dont kno that mans life story but ffs just TAKE IT AS ONE

[Sikie]: k fine

[Sikie]: im very approachable

[Sikie]: and disarming

[Sikie]: put that on my grave

(You): omg

Sejun starts to type: “this really got under your skin, didn’t it?” - but he doesn’t. It seems a bit tactless. If Seungsik wants to tell someone something, he will. Him being weird and roundabout regarding the whole thing just means he’s not ready to talk. Who knows, Sejun thinks, maybe he’ll just get over this over night. He knows that Seungsik’s got some hang ups about his looks (who doesn’t?), but it’s not a subject the two like to pore over. Every drunken realtalk session they’ve had where feelings and insecurities come up, it always boils down to the same general conversation: “You’re really good looking, you should think better of yourself.” “No you’re good looking. You should think better of yourself.” “If I was into you, I’d have married you by now.” “Damn, we’re so awesome what are we worried about anyways?”

It bums Sejun out that such a little comment seems to be setting Seungsik off so bad, but if Sik doesn’t wanna talk, he’s not gonna. Sejun doesn’t like to push that stuff anyways.

(You): look i will say this one (1) last time

(You): and u can choose to take it or not but:

(You): that person is just trying to compliment you - probably in a non-greasy, atypical way

(You): i mean they failed EPICLY but it seems like an attempt was made?

[Sikie]: well

[Sikie]: nevermind

[Sikie]: ima melt into my bed until i pass out

[Sikie]: pce

(You): gn

Messages cease after that. Sejun heaves a sigh. His lips purse in vexation as he tosses the weird conversation around in his head. Did Seungsik want him to say it’s an insult? Maybe he has some idea in his head, and he’d wanted it corroborated. Even though Sejun can’t figure out what Seungsik had wanted, he already knows what his old friend is feeling.

Seungsik has been hearing that he’s cute, adorable, friendly, looks sweet, looks kind, loveable, and, yes, disarming. Sejun knows very well that his friend is sick of it. He keeps telling Sik that there’s nothing wrong with being perceived as cute, but it doesn’t really help. Usually, Seungsik is fine with it. He genuinely appreciates the compliments, really. Just sometimes, when he’s feeling a bit low, it gets to him more than it should.

Sejun gets it - people have treated his friend differently because of it. Maybe not badly, but differently. Old women dote on him (some have even squeezed his cheeks without asking) and kids flock to him when he’s at the bakery window. High school girls swoon over him, much to the displeasure of the guys tailing them. Sik gets carded constantly when they go out of town to party (something Sejun begrudges because it makes him feel old).

It’s not always so well-intentioned, though. During highschool, Sejun always overheard people saying Seungsik was “too nice”. He was “too cute” - because apparently that’s a thing to high schoolers. Someone can be “too cute”. A lot of people talked crap about him. A guy with some cute mannerisms who knew how to bake? The world must be ending! At least, they acted like it. They’d whisper about how he wasn’t manly at all.  Seungsik even got likened to a potato; of course, he took it well.

Sejun supposes that’s around the time that Seungsik started hating his affable image. During the years when boys supposedly turn to men, people kept treating him like a child. As he got older, the weight on Sik just seemed to stack, too. Coming out, taking over the bakery… He seems to feel pressured more than ever to be the quintessential man. Whether it’s right or not, Seungsik seems to feel like being adorable undermines that or something. Sejun disagrees vehemently , but he can’t stop his friend from feeling how he does. He’s pretty sure he’d hate being called cute, too, if people used it as an excuse to treat him a certain way.

“What are we gonna do with you?” Sejun asks rhetorically, staring at his phone.

“Ding!”

Sejun gasps, shocked for a second before realizing the message isn’t a surprise follow up from Seungsik. A massive grin spreads across the programmer’s face when he reads it:

[Subinie]: thanks for driving me again

[Subinie]: i havent had that much fun in a long time

[Subinie]: thank you~ <3

“You are very welcome,” Sejun mutters as he types out those very words.

Cricket songs echo in through his cracked windows, and with them the slightly damp, fragrant night air. Sejun sighs, rolling his desk chair over to the standing fan by his bedroom door. Even though it’s not that late, it’s like all of his energy is sapped from his body at once. His shoulders sag, and he weakly tiptoes his chair back over to his desk. Another body seizing yawn overtakes his body, and with that he decides that it’s definitely time to sleep. With the way his loose tank top stickily clings to his torso, he can already tell: it’s gonna be a hot summer.