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Jan Di talks all four of them out of coming.
"Best friend time!" she chirps airily, waving her hand at Jun Pyo. Her eyes are narrowed and the others merely take a step back, under the solemn reminder that the first to go will always be the boyfriend in question and his friends are more than willing to make the sacrifice. This hasn't changed.
But Chu Ga Eul stands off to the side, wrapped in her jacket, half-eyeing the mess of marker on her hands from her classes earlier. She tries to ignore Yi Jung too; he remains watching her in kind, as if it amused him more to have Jan Di think she could protect her from whatever conversation they were going to have. He sends her a look, his eyes bright with ease. His head tilts and four years, she thinks, has done nothing to quell the flutter of nerves in her belly.
"Idiot," she mutters, and then lets Jan Di grab her hand. Her friend yanks her forward and she laughs lightly, letting her pull them into the restaurant.
"We can get drunk!" Jan Di declares. Then she stops herself, frowning. Her nose wrinkles. "Or not. I have an exam."
Ga Eul laughs. "I'm not teaching children hungover either. That's more than asking for it."
She sobers quickly though, watching Jan Di as she tucks her arm through her own. She pats her hand and asks for a table. Ga Eul says nothing; she suspects her best friend knew as it is. Jun Pyo cannot maintain any sort of silence around her. She softens though, shaking her head. Some things don't know how to change.
They walk carefully to the table and when they sit, her best friend's ring is hit with just enough light. It sparkles, of course, but is less of a statement than Ga Eul ever thought it would be. A mere, elegant cluster of diamonds -- they've grown up, she thinks.
"So it's yes, then," Ga Eul teases, and a blush sinks into Jan Di's cheeks. She shrugs and rolls the ring between her fingers.
"I tortured him enough," is her dry reply. Jan Di softens. "And what about you?"
"What about me?" She quips. Her best friend snorts and Ga Eul leans back in her seat. Her gaze stills over her water. "It's a loaded question."
"He said he went to see you."
"At school."
"Huh."
"Yeah," she says and if she were still too young, she might have been prone to expecting grander gestures. She won't apologize for being romantic. She is an adult now; not everything means the same.
Ga Eul leans forward. Her fingers brush over her water glass.
"They thought he was my boyfriend."
Jan Di laughs. "Naturally." Her head tilts. "Did you correct them?"
"No," she murmurs. She bites back a guilty blush. "I just didn't know what to say."
"Did he?"
Jan Di and her eyes are wide and earnest; it only happens when she is with friends or family. Ga Eul half-suspects it has to do with being in love, or knowing that she's finally in that place to be in love. She would be a liar if she didn't admit to envying that.
She shakes her head. "No," she says. "Yi Jung-sunbae didn't. Because kids are kids and he walked into a classroom with too many of them," she laughs too. "They would have eaten him alive regardless."
"Probably deserves it," her friend smirks.
"Probably," she agrees.
She knows Jan Di is picking her apart. The other woman's gaze is on her; outside of Jun Pyo, and even Ji Hoo, Jan Di knows how to focus closely on her friends and unravel them. It's often unpredictable, accidental even, but Ga Eul never knows how to hide from it -- it makes Jan Di terrifying, at best.
She doesn't want to talk about Yi Jung though. She doesn't know how to. Four years is four years, and it will always be four years, no matter how much she might have romanticized it. She won't lie. She's imagined their reunion more than once, maybe too vividly at the beginning. There have been phone calls and emails and updates. She longed for surprises, but those had been pragmatic enough. Woo Bin always made sure to step in and tell her things too, bits and pieces and too many anecdotes. Maybe to protect her. Maybe to protect Yi Jung. In the end, it doesn't matter. She still doesn't know where he fits and, more importantly, if he wants to.
"You're worried," Jan Di says gently. She reaches across the table and touches Ga Eul's hand.
The waiter's brought tea; Ga Eul blinks and shakes her head. They haven't ordered yet.
She clears her throat. "You're a regular."
Jan Di shrugs. "Ji Hoo drags me here to study sometimes."
Her lips twitch.
"You're going to avoid the question though," her friend continues. "I know you. I also didn't expect him to show up in your classroom."
"He's romantic," she says dryly.
"He's seeing if you still like that stuff."
Jan Di says stuff with distaste. She laughs and rolls her eyes. She touches her tea cover and casts a gaze to the window. It's fall, she reminds herself. It's rather silly, considering. The leaves are starting to brown and winter is ready to brush itself into the picture.
She shrugs then. "I don't know anymore," she says carefully. Then she looks up at Jan Di. "Really," she murmurs. "What if -- well, we'll see, right?"
"You're rambling."
Then she's serious, suddenly too serious, and remembers the classroom and how close he sat to her. It was tiny touches; his elbow, a flick of his wrist, all close enough to see what she would do.
"I know," she says.
Ga Eul still blushes, you know.
There is a party. Of course, there is a party. They have never forgotten; they are still four boys, some days with too much money, most days trying to grow up extraordinarily fast. Jan Di says it's probably why they're still so attractive. She's not entirely sure if that's just all of it. There's never any explanation for the madness; only a glass of champagne for survival.
She comes though, wrapped in a dress that she should have never bought ("You need to treat yourself," Jan Di rolls her eyes) because a teacher's salary is a teacher's salary and yes, sometimes it feels crazy to spend something on herself. Still, she's here and she knows she should be here because if she wasn't, she'd think about being there and she's sure, too sure, that he'd come and find her. And that makes her nervous.
"You're here."
She blinks and her fingers curl in her dress. She's leaning against a door, not entirely ready to go back into the ballroom and endure crowds of faces. Her empty glass is back, somewhere in room, and it feels odd not to hold anything in her hand. Her fingers twitch and she touches her dress again. The fabric is warm against her palm and Yi Jung is watching her curiously.
"Well," she manages. She straightens and her hair falls into her eyes. "I was told I had to show up or you'd come and find me."
"Ah," he drawls. "Jan Di."
Ga Eul shrugs. "She's convincing when she wants to be."
His mouth curls and he steps closer. His tie is twisted under his jacket and she reaches forward, her fingers tucking underneath it. She tugs, just lightly, and he makes a soft sound. He doesn't look away from her; she tries to remember what she wants to say.
"You're terrible at keeping touch," she tells him, her fingers dragging back over the fabric. She finds his collar and manages to tug it again, pushing it back into place. Everything is still crisp and tightly pressed. "I know you're not a technological idiot," she murmurs, half-teasing. "I also know that you do have your phone and --"
"I'm sorry," he says. His mouth curls in amusement. "I wrote you --"
"Letters that you never sent?"
"Just two," he murmurs, "and I did send you emails --"
"Spam," she corrects. "You sent me spam. But really, you could have called."
"I did."
"Five minute conversations don't count."
His brow furrows. Then he laughs; it's breathless. "You're teasing me."
Her laughter slips. She's brighter, suddenly. She gives his tie another sharp tug and slides away from him. She tightens her shaw around her shoulders. She knows she's not like Jan Di; the nuances for her, in these places, parties, and things -- it's strong and stranger, and she'll never feel like she fits her. But she sees him and that's different, maybe too different, with the feelings suddenly rolling around her stomach. She feels like a girl again, awkward and sharp.
"Maybe," she sings. "I've forgiven you nonetheless."
He smirks, then, brushing his mouth against her forehead. It's random and misplaced; it's so like him though and these little things, these are the things that she's missed.
"I have to be social," he sighs, dramatically. She laughs and he seems to step into her, to touch her even. It's simple: his hands move to her hips, his thumb rolling over the fabric of her dress. It puckers and he leans into her again. "You should come," he says. "And be social with me --"
"You're charming on your own."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is that a no?"
"Possibly," she says dryly. "You're also intelligent enough to make an educated guess."
He pokes her side and she laughs delightedly, earning another grin as she bats his hand away. They step apart and she shrugs.
"I suppose I'll endure it. For you."
"Then we'll escape." He reaches forward, twisting a strand of hair around his finger. She watches him with amusement. "And I'll feed you."
"But I get to pick."
He looks at her, and she's laughing again, and maybe, maybe she should have left that glass of champagne alone. It's all nerves, she thinks. It's nerves and it's the two of them and they're finally talking, like they should be talking. It's not perfect; she does not know what she expects from him, or even, really, what he expects of her. It could be nothing. It could be everything.
"You get the pick," he agrees, and that feeling, those butterflies, seem like they've never left at all.
There's this place near her apartment. She doesn't tell him. Maybe they'll work their way up to that. They walk close to each other, his hand jutting out to touch her hip as a siren wails by. She smiles, only in amusement, shaking her head as he mutters something like we should've drove under his breath. This is healthy for you, she almost says in kind, but bites her tongue nonetheless.
"I do lesson planning here," she explains, as she waves to the older woman behind the counter. She makes a motion with her fingers and then leads him to a table by the window, so that they can sit away and talk.
"Shouldn't a coffee shop do?"
She shrugs. "Sometimes the easiest places to get things done are the noisiest."
She used to do all her homework at work. The porridge shop was much busier than the small restaurant they're sitting in. She and Jan Di used to do homework in the back corner, switching when the few, random customers would come. At night though, the restaurant is quiet. There is the occasional breakup, and maybe a company party -- the karaoke place is too close by too -- but there's still comfort in small routines.
"You haven't changed," he says.
"In that sense." Her lips curl. She rests her chin between her hands, watching him. "Sure. I have some habits that I keep."
"Still obnoxiously right?"
She laughs. "You're just sour, sunbae."
He shrugs, his mouth twisting. The old woman brings them beers and waters, eyeing Ga Eul as if she were her own daughter and this were the first time she'd ever brought anyone home. Ga Eul manages to bite back a blush, nodding her thanks as Yi Jung smiles at the older woman serenely.
"And here I thought you'd be rusty."
He chuckles. "No, no," he reaches for his beer. "Just wiser."
"Oh?"
He grows serious, suddenly. It isn't as abrupt as she expects. When he would do this to her, with her, it used to feel like it came out of nowhere and nowhere fast, if only to test her and she what she would do and how she would do it. She finds herself that she's no longer that girl, but at the same time he's no longer that boy -- man, she corrects. Four years may not seem too long, but it's been long enough.
"It was lonelier than I expected," he says slowly. "I had to listen to myself a lot more. It's a different kind of place when you become that aware of yourself."
Her lips part. She still hasn't touched her beer. His fingers curl over the lip of his own, his thumb rubbing over the mouth. She studies the motions; she remembers how jerky they used to be, precise and angry.
"I started talking to my brother too," he tells her.
She's surprised. If she shows it, he chooses not to notice it. Her eyes still widen. Her lips part. She doesn't know whether or not she should smile. Personal growth would be something she'd say to Jan Di.
"Are you all right?" she asks, and for all the reasons, she understands why it's harder for him to talk to his brother than the lack of communication between him and his father, and that circle between him and his parents.
"I think so." He's honest. He reaches for her hand. His fingers touch the top of her hand and she turns it into them. "I mean, I can stand to be in the room as them both," he shrugs and a lot more goes unspoken, then. "So there's that. There's no hard feelings, I guess."
She snorts. "Sunbae, you're just as bad --"
"Well, I've had four years," he counters. "And no, no, I am not as bad as Jun Pyo."
She laughs and shrugs. He rolls his eyes and she watches him as he starts to settle. He seems to be more comfortable here. She didn't pay much attention at the party. He's always been charming enough to filter in and out and not give anything away. But she found herself catching him too: his shoulders as they slouched, the slight turn of his mouth when he was unimpressed, and going through the motions as he was trained to do. She makes no mention of how she always stayed at his side and how there was always a small touch at her hip, her elbow -- all places of reassurance.
"How's your mother?" she asks. "I didn't see her at the party."
"Better," he answers. "She sat this one out because of my father."
"I didn't see him."
Yi Jung shrugs. "Consider yourself lucky, I suppose."
They were both there for their friends, she knows and it goes unspoken. He rubs his eyes and leans back in his seat.
"But she's doing well, better," he says. His mouth twists. "I think she's seeing someone and whoever that is, it's making her happy." He waves his hand. "But enough about that, I want to hear about you. Since I can see you."
She shakes her head. "We're going to buy you a new phone, oppa," she teases, and then that slips or she tries it. It feels strange and new and too comfortable, really. His eyes brighten and he smirks. She feels shy and tries to sneak a peek around the restaurant. "It'll revolutionize your day. We can even video-chat," her voice turns dry.
"I'm not an old man."
"Sometimes I wonder," she shoots back.
He laughs then, and they finally settle down to pick something to eat. They won't touch it though and they won't spend the rest of the night catching up. They'll talk. He'll ask her about teaching. She'll ask him about his coming shows. It'll feel new and then it'll stop. Occasionally he'll reach across the table and touch her. Her hand. Her jaw. Somehow, it'll seem like the most romantic thing he's ever done for her. He's here, he's home, and she can see that same, strange awareness reflected back at her. They're not perfect. He was always going to come back.
So it starts like this. They'll try.
There is a standing bet. There are no romantic gestures. They are neither embarrassed nor trying to hide; we're trying to be adults, she tells Jan Di (who really knew first) and this is what works for them, of course.
"A car."
Woo Bin finally blurts it out, just after everyone crashes their fifth dinner (or sixth, since Yi Jung is now a fan of saying that they're in their fifth year of dating; of course, she lets him) and everyone is expecting an answer.
They are standing in his kitchen together. There is wine on the side and something that should be some sort of pasta dish that Yi Jung swears he learned to make when he was in Sweden. She manages to hide it though, with a straight face even, and looks between Woo Bin and Yi Jung, waiting for one of them to say something.
"Only a car?" Yi Jung asks. He sighs, rolling his eyes. "I expected more," he tells her.
"Because you need another car," she mutters.
He shoots her look and Woo Bin laughs, just as Ga Eul smiles serenely, almost daring him to say something else. Yi Jung narrows his eyes.
"You should be just as invested in this as I am."
She shrugs. She can hear Jan Di and Jun Pyo arguing about something in the other room. She leans against the counter, meeting his gaze.
"I am," she says. "But if it were a vacation..."
He snorts. "You're lucky --"
"I'm amazing," she quips. "You were going to say amazing. Especially since I'm keeping my kitchen comments to myself, sunbae."
"Maybe." He mock-glares. "Maybe not."
She hits his arm and he laughs.
"Fine," Yi Jung murmurs. "Amazing," he says too and he turns to her, moving into her space. He's direct about it and she almost forgets that Woo Bin is in the kitchen with them. Maybe it's pointed, maybe it's not. If she's honest, she cares very little about what the rest of them think.
He keeps moving closer though, and suddenly, he's hovering over her. His hands cup her face. Her lips turn and she feels his fingers curl just under her chin, tilting her mouth up to meet his. His mouth touches hers once. Then again. It's soft and warm, then heavier as she sighs into him. She's aware of Woo Bin in the kitchen with them. Then she's not. It's always the most intense feeling, being this close to him. It's overwhelming and terrifying, but still, still the most settling feeling she's ever had.
So it's simple: his hands move to her hair and slide through, her hips press back into the counter and then into his; he makes a low sound and she tastes it; she bites at his lip and feels him smile. She gives it to him then.
"You can't charm me into winning you a car, oppa," she murmurs.
He kisses her again for the next day, and the one after that, and maybe for everything missed in between.
They've grown up, after all.