Chapter Text
1.
The first time it happens is kind of an accident, and in retrospect, it's a little endearing and a lot embarassing. It's a regular Sunday, which means they're both home, laying in the filth they've managed to accumulate around the TV over the weekend. There's an old game playing on mute and Somin's lying half-on, half- off the couch in faded cotton boxers that Matthew's pretty sure were his at some point. She's eating fruit loops straight from the box like a savage and Matthew is so offended because she never lets him do that.
"You literally yell at me every time I try to eat like that," he points out self-righteously.
Somin looks up, her hair's mussed and twisted in a top-knot and her eyes are bored. "I dont let you eat on the bed, you spill everywhere and then we get ants."
"My bed my problem," Matthew retorts petulantly before lifting her ankles and plopping down on the couch, placing them on his lap instead.
He reaches for the Fruit Loops but Somin bats his hand, scrunches her nose at him and drags the box away.
"We literally have nothing else to eat. I'm hungry too!!"
Somin sticks out her tongue, and it's adorably aggravating in the way everything that Somin does is. "Your stomach your problem."
He gives up, resting his head on the back of the sofa that they'd bought from a second-hand dealer in Itaewon after so much deliberation. And Matthew knows it has a lot of old, awkward stains that he's still hesitant to sit on, but now they blend with the new, awkward stains that him and Somin have painted on to the linen. Matthew's ketchup in the corner, Somin's blue nailpolish on the arm, the beer stains from late Fridays and pancake syrup from early Saturdays. It's a pollock-y represention of their lives.
And despite it's disgusting-ness, he loves it because it's a mixture of the both of them, like a child that they're going to have to saw in half if they ever move out. The thought makes his heart clench a little as Somin nudges him with the cereal box shyly.
"You can have some. I'm generous like that."
Matthew mock bows, grabbing the box and unapologetically shaking it straight in to his mouth. Somin wiggles her toes under the meat of his thigh, and he's can perfectly picture the disgust on her dainty features, so he smiles and gets more aggressive about it.
An hour later they're still in the same position except the cereal box's empty and Matthew starting to get hungry again, he turns to where Somin's fiddling on her phone, the left strap of her spaghetti slipping off a honey shoulder. On the television they've moved on from game highlights to some new athlete controversy, and Matthew is so bored.
"Somin. Somin-ah. Sominnie-"
Somin finally looks up. "What??"
"I wanna go out."
"Ok."
He presses his fingers in to her boney ankles. "Go out with me?"
Somin's eyes go wide, and Matthew realizes what that sounds like. "No. Fuck. Wait- No. I mean like, to the park."
Somin's eyebrows continue to rise. "You wanna go to go to the park," she repeats slowly, "like, on a date?"
"No. Like, fuck. I'm bored- I wanna go to park to hang out. Like, play frisbee, and do friend things. Like we do."
He probably looks as mortified as he feels, because Somin's suddenly laughing. The sound is loud and tinkling and fills their apartment with mirth. Matthew thinks it's so pretty, pretty in the way the happiness settles over Somin's sleep-swollen face—all crinkly eyes and a plush smile. It makes him think that he wants to make her laugh for as long as he can.
2.
The second time it happens, it's hypothetical. It's a Friday this time, and Fridays are busy for both of them: after class, Somin finishes corrections for her teaching-assistant gig, and Matthew picks up an extra shift at the barbecue place down the street from where they live. It's usually nearing eight when they make it back to the apartment, and if this were any other Friday- Somin would be pulling out two chilled beers and Matthew would be carrying the spicy bulgogi take-out he gets using his employee discount.
Today is however, not a regular Friday because they're both in Matthew's room trying to make sure he doesnt look like a moron on his date.
"Why cant I just wear the polo with a cardigan?" he pouts.
Somin uncrosses her arms, the cherry-cola lollipop that she stole from the Science office bulges against her cheek. "Matthew, no. I get that your preferred aesthetic is preppy frat-boy, but I know Jiwoo and she'll hate that."
Matthew sighs, "then what should I wear?"
"You know the navy blue button-down I got you from home last year? Wear it with jeans."
"Can I wear a bow-tie at least?"
"To a movie? Really? No."
Matthew sighs again and Somin leaves him to change. Dates are so much work, with all the effort he has to put in- he'd rather stay in with Somin all days of the week till he keels over at eighty. He's gelling his hair when Somin walks back in, armed with a beer this time.
He assesses himself critically in the mirror, "would you date me?"
It's a hypothetical question, designed to gauge how lethal this look actually is. (He still blushes the tiniest bit after asking though).
Somin nods around her beer bottle, flopping on to his bed. "Hell yeah."
With his confidence sufficiently bolstered, and his self-esteem at an all time high, Matthew wonders if asking Somin out for real would actually be that bad.
He gets back at eleven-thirty, and he's thinking Jiwoo's a pretty badass girl. She's gorgeous, really, he'd thought living with someone like Somin had ruined him for everyone else but, Jiwoo really is beautiful. She's also funny, and witty, and tips really well (and as someone working part-time as a server, Matthew feels incredibly gratified). So, he doesnt understand why all that praise goes flying out the window when he spots Somin waiting up for him on the floor in front of the couch.
Despite being the younger of the two, Matthew's convinced Somin's actually like, seventy years old, because she sleeps at ten on most days that they dont go out, and whines like a baby if anything obstructs the habit. But right now, she's wearing her pink pajama-set and chugging coke like her wakefulness depends on it (it probably does). There's a dubbed Thai drama playing in the back, a half-eaten box of pizza plopped between her open textbooks. A bad Henry remix playing quietly while she gnaws on a slice of pepperoni and halfheartedly twirls an errant strand of hair around her finger.
She looks so home and Matthew feels sappy all over.
There's a dopey grin on her face when she asks. "How was your date?"
"'Was ok. Can I have a slice?"
3.
They're going to Hongdae this time and he's waiting for Somin to get dressed. It's December now and the chill's setting in like it never left. Luckily their apartment's small enough that the tiny space-heater Somin's parents gave them over Christmas last year warms up the place pretty good. There are two fleece throws hanging off the back of the couch- one pink and one blue- and because they're trying to break away from gender-stereotypes in this household, Matthew is the proud owner of the pink one.
He's tracking the Uber, when Somin steps out in a flurry of perfume and chestnut curls. Matthew sometimes thinks that constant exposure to Somin has made him immune to the effect that she has on a large segment of the population (gender irrespective), but he's proven horrifyingly wrong when he sees her walk out to the couch.
He tries not to gape, but it's difficult, because Somin's wearing the black dress she wears to show-up her exes and walking in suede boots like she was born in them. And Matthew is reminded once again, of how mortal he really is.
When they reach the club Jisun wolf-whistles when she sees Somin, and Matthew can honestly relate. Jiwoo's there too, but they're not dating anymore because according to her he's "emotionally unavailable," (Matthew had no idea what the fuck that meant, but neither did Somin so he's not too bothered). The smile they share is a little awkward, but settles warmly when Somin pushes her palm in to the crook of his elbow protectively.
The club is glorious, and reeks of alcohol and cigarettes and a good time. And he gets lost on his own for a while, migrating to the dance floor after gratuitous shots, courtesy of Jisun's dance crew performing here frequently enough that they can practically freeload. There's a good beat, and the low thrum of bass vibrating through the slightly sticky floor, but it feels great to just dance with random groups of people for a while- most of them drunk enough that they welcome Matthew with sweaty, open arms.
Eventually though, one of the girls he meets at some point starts persistently following him and it's a little disconcerting because he's not here to get laid . He gives in thirty minutes into the entire ordeal and searches for Somin, hoping she'll help him instead.
By the time he finds her laughing with Jisun at the bar he's desperate enough that he drags her straight to the dance-floor, blindly throwing an apology to the tipsy Jisun.
"I need you to be my girlfriend."
Somin snorts, "how much did you drink?"
Matthew shakes his head, "No seriously, you see the girl in the red dress? Behind me, highlights in her hair."
Somin looks around discreetly before she nods. Matthew continues, "she wont leave me alone."
Somin starts laughing at how harassed he looks, and Matthew just pouts and complains about how there's no justice for beautiful people. Somin wraps her arms around his shoulders, still grinning up at him when the girl behind them notices and shuffles away.