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#MostLikelyToAvoidTellingStoriesInChronologicalOrder
It’s easy to tell Chani’s-Taeyang and Not-Chani’s-Taeyang apart.
And it’s not only because one is Chani’s and the other isn’t Chani’s.
Chani’s-Taeyang is tall and broad with shortish hair he keeps in a middle part, bitch. He is usually never seen in anything but a heavily-starched dress shirt and pinstripe slacks that hug his waist and thighs. There’s just something about him. He’s cool and suave and older and has two degrees and clearly has his life together. No wonder Chani chose him.
Not-Chani’s-Taeyang, on the other hand, is lanky like a beanpole with wavy, shoulder-length hair he rarely bothers to style. He wears sandals, of all things, and the only clothes he’s got in his closet are boot cut jeans and crazily-patterned anoraks from Urban Outfitters.
Not-Chani’s-Taeyang is the exact opposite of Keeho’s usual type in every single way, it seems. He’s got no fashion sense, his Instagram is an uncurated hodgepodge with no cohesive aesthetic, he doesn’t care about skincare, thinks pink and red goes together and, most criminally of all, he doesn’t listen to most of the music Keeho links him! Not Kelela. Not Mitski. Not Sophie. Like, how dare ! What else is a thoughtfully put together playlist for if not to share?
But they say that opposites attract and that’s probably why Keeho’s been crushing this hard for this long.
And such a long-standing crush is why Keeho’s got the guy cornered in the hallway of Gunmin’s house. The party rages on just a few steps away so they kinda have to lean close to hear each other over the music. Or at least that’s the excuse Keeho uses to lean up on Taeyang’s shoulder and put his hand on the crook of Taeyang’s elbow.
“You are soooo funny,” Keeho tells him. He adds some spice to it by lightly slapping Not-Chani’s-Taeyang’s chest while he laughs.
“You always say that,” Taeyang says after a staccato chuckle, just shy of sounding fake and forced. Wah. His eyes are so big and round and expressive and brown. His nose is so cute! Look at his cheeks!
“I say it because it’s truuuue ,” Keeho emphasizes, tightening his grip on Taeyang’s elbow. “You always have the funniest stories.”
“Uhhh…. Really?” Taeyang glances around. His eyebrows furrow together. “Because I only say stuff that happens to me.”
Keeho runs damage control. “Like when Hangyul fell off his bike trying to do a trick to impress some girl? That was funny.”
“Not sure I’d call that funny, dude,” Taeyang says. “He skinned his elbow.”
“Pssh. I just saw him earlier today. He was laughing harder than me about it. He still got her number.” Then again, Hangyul is hot and just kinda has to stand there to get chicks’ numbers.
Taeyang leans back against the wall and Keeho steps forward to make up for the lost proximity. He tightens his grip on Taeyang’s arm to keep the guy from pulling it free of his hold. Taeyang sighs and says, “I don’t know, man. You find everything I say funny.”
“You’re a funny guy,” Keeho stresses.
Taeyang gives a tiny smile. Maybe he blushes. It’s hard to tell what color his cheeks turn with the weird angle of the hallway light cutting shadows across his face. He says, “If you say so.”
Keeho has to keep him talking. Has to keep all of the guy’s attention on him. Or, more accurately, on himself. “Now what were you saying about the weather?”
“Not the weather. The climate ,” Taeyang grunts out. “Humankind is on the brink of destruction. Capitalism is ruining the planet. The government refuses to regulate while corporations guilt consumers into buying reusable shopping bags and metal straws. There’s no balance.”
Nodding enthusiastically, Keeho says, “You are so right.” He hasn’t really been listening. He just knows Taeyang’s passionate about this. “Fuck climate change.”
Taeyang’s gaze goes a little unfocused. He pulls his arm free of Keeho’s grip and Keeho lets him go.
Keeho practically watches him lose interest. Like a cat no longer interested in cuddles. Taeyang’s expression blanks out as he leans around Keeho to peer down the hall. Keeho sidesteps into his field of view to reclaim his attention. He has to get some momentum going. “Don’t we have to do whatever to save the planet or whatever?”
He wins Taeyang back a little. “The corporations have way more of an impact on climate change than consumers ever will. What’s one person buying a pack of biodegradable toilet paper gonna do in comparison to BP dumping an immeasurable amount of oil in the ocean just because of a burst pipe?”
“Mmmmhmmm,” Keeho hums in a way he hopes sounds encouraging. His red cup is entirely empty of alcohol but he raises it to his mouth regardless. “You’re so smart, Taeyang.”
“Is it being smart,” Taeyang questions as he brushes his unkempt hair out of his face, still looking down the hall, “or is it just knowing something simple, Keekee?”
Keeho lets out another too-loud giggle and steps as far into Taeyang’s personal space as he can manage. Isn’t this Flirting 101? Laughing at all of their lame jokes, listening intently to all of their uninteresting stories (with an ‘mmmhmmm’ and a ‘yes, you’re so right’ thrown in every few seconds), going out of your way to hold their gaze and making an effort to establish physical contact? Isn’t that what flirting is? Well, that’s what Keeho is doing. He is trying his hardest! “Got any other wild stories? Tell me everything. I want to know everything about you.”
“Really? Everything about me?” Taeyang tilts his head in Keeho’s direction, more than confused by the random subject change.
“Yes. Everything. You have no idea.”
Taeyang’s gaze drifts down the slope of Keeho’s nose and towards his chin. He sucks in a breath like the words are on the tip of his tongue but he can’t let them loose. He’s so hot. He’s so cool . And his face seems to be getting closer and closer. His lips turn up in the corners with a… with a smile? That’s what it looks like to him.
Keeho grins. Is Taeyang going to confess? The past couple months of hard work have been building up to this moment! Finally, there’s going to be payoff!
But then Taeyang steps back abruptly, shoves his face into the crook of his elbow and sneezes loudly. God. What a loud, wretched, weirdly high-pitched noise! When Taeyang looks at Keeho again, he’s frowning slightly. Two of his fingers press his nostrils closed. “I think your cologne is setting me off,” he says.
“Oh, really?” Keeho deflates. He takes a step back, not trying to get sneezed on. “I wore it for…” You. “I bought it just for tonight…”
Taeyang chuckles. Well, it’s more of a less-than-charming guffaw. “My nose has been itching since you walked up to me.” Another nervous laugh. “Sorry to say.”
Keeho frowns. This definitely isn’t the outcome he expects! He was looking forward to some hot making out in a dimly-lit corner. A trip upstairs to a quiet bedroom. He’d settle for holding hands and dancing together! But being told his brand new Gucci perfume is irritating the dude’s sinuses? What a blow to his pride! “I’ll walk around a bit,” he says. “Maybe the scent will settle down by then.”
Taeyang nods. “Sure thing, Keekee. Just catch up with me whenever. See ya!” And then he walks away quickly, past the stairs towards the end of the bathroom line, which Keeho belatedly realizes he’s probably been keeping the dude away from for the past ten minutes.
This isn’t the worst thing that could happen. It’s not!
Keeho’s only been here at the party for about half an hour. Maybe slightly more if he counts the time he spent out in the yard catching up with Seungmin. Keeho’s only had one cup and, really, only half of one at that because Taeyong didn’t fill it up all of the way and it was mostly soda. The night is still young. And this is one awkward conversation with Taeyang out of the hundreds they’ve had over the months. This isn’t even a setback!
He doesn’t mope for long. Keeho doesn’t have the energy to. Or the time to.
His goal is to refill his cup, snag some food and find someone else to talk to.
He’ll get another chance to chat with Taeyang before midnight rolls around. He swearrrrs!
“I hope there’s some honey barbeque wings,” he grunts as he starts walking.
He remembers from his previous trip to the drink counter that the house’s kitchen is on the far side of the living room so Keeho has to slip his way through the dancing, drinking, tightly-packed crowd to get there. The energy tonight feels more frantic than usual. Probably because of the three-day weekend. The music is wild and loud and noisy. The kind of craycray European electronic stuff Douhyun listens to. It’s not Keeho’s tastes, not really the kind of beat he can throw ass to, but it’s got the crowd spinning and jumping so it can’t be totally terrible.
A lot of the usual faces are here tonight, even though this is some near-stranger’s house on the north side of town. Karina must have spent a million years on her hair tonight because it’s shiny as hell and straight as fuck. Not a strand out of place, bitch. Seongjun’s got on a bomb-ass clear jacket and a super short crop top that exposes his belly button and half his abs. He’s got six others with him in a circle around the hookah. Ryujin’s on the dance floor in short shorts, an entire gin bottle in her fist as she twirls. Taeseung leans up against the far wall alone, looking both stylish and freakish in his full goth attire. Junho, at least, waves enthusiastically at Keeho from the middle of the crowd, red in the face from drinking and partying.
Ugh. No one’s complimented him on his outfit yet! How barbaric , bitch. Keeho shrugs his jacket a little bit more off of his shoulders to better show off his geometric patterned shirt and the silver jewelry around his throat.
He looks good. He knows that. Posted his fit on Insta like two hours ago and already has like 800 likes. But he needs people in real life to not only know he looks good but tell him this! It’s just the way of the world.
Perhaps tugging off his jacket a bit more was the move because he doesn’t get five more steps before he’s being pulled aside.
“Wow, you look great!”
It’s Dongil. Most people know him because of his uncanny resemblance to Sunwoo (a resemblance the guy resents ), but Keeho knows him because he’s a fashion major like Jiung and he made the shirt Keeho’s wearing now.
“I see you like the shirt,” Dongil says. He leans forward and has to put his mouth to Keeho’s ear to be heard over the thumping bass of the EDM.
Keeho tips forward. “Of course! I wore it because I like it. Not because I knew you’d be here.”
“Huh?”
Too tired to repeat himself over the music, Keeho barrels on. “It fits like a dream. An absolute dream.” He runs a hand across the material of the shirt. “It doesn’t make me look like a light pole.”
Dongil presses even closer to him. “A what?” He smells like sweat and alcohol and scented vape smoke.
“A light pole.”
“What?”
Ugh. They are probably standing too close to the speakers for this. Keeho puts his hand on top of Dongil’s head to hold him still and then gets on his tip toes to speak right into his ear. “I said I love the shirt.” When he pulls back, he gives Dongil a thumbs up.
Dongil nods. “I can make you another if you want. Or customize your shoes.”
Keeho giggles nervously. Not at the offer of customized shoes but at the fact that Dongil’s wrapped an arm around his waist. Probably to hold him steady? “Do you do Converses or anything?”
“What?”
Keeho leans closer. “Just Converses?”
“It can be whatever you want.”
Keeho pulls back and looks up at Dongil. He kind of does look like Sunwoo? But also not really? Like, their noses have similar shapes and they both tend to unironically enjoy the whole bowl cut thing but Keeho can’t see why girls ask Dongil out if Sunwoo turns them down. Isn’t that just tacky? Keeho opens his mouth to keep the convo going, but now there’s a hand digging into his shoulder and pulling .
Keeho twists around to see who is attacking him and he sees Harry June. “Look who’s here,” Keeho shouts out with enthusiasm and happiness he doesn’t actually feel. “I’ll talk to you later,” Keeho yells towards Dongil, who holds up a peace sign and turns away, totally unaware of the hostility within arm’s reach of him.
“Thought you said you weren’t going out tonight?” Harry June shouts back, smiling so hard that Keeho can see his molars.
“I changed my mind,” says Keeho.
Harry June’s eyes get cold and hard even with his smile. “You should have stayed home.”
Oh? So does he want to do this here? Now? “ You should have stayed home,” he snaps back, full of bite. He barely moves his mouth around the words, a talent he’s mastered over the years. “How’d a kid get into a college party?”
“I’m not a kid,” Harry June huffs, sounding just like the bitchy, whiny high schooler he claims he’s not. “How come you never get mad like this at Intak?”
Keeho grabs Harry June by the earlobe. “Because Yeji doesn’t give a fuck if he parties while your mom will skin me alive if she finds out you’re in a place like this. She still believes I turned you gay!”
Continuing to be hostile, Harry June digs his nails deeper into Keeho’s neck. He presses his thumb just shy of where it would choke. “My mom thinks I’m at the movies.”
Not intimidated at all, Keeho hisses, “If you have to lie to your mom about where you’re going at night, you’re a kid .” Keeho wraps a hand around the back of Harry June’s neck. To anyone else, they probably look close. Like best buds. But Keeho is pinching the absolute fuck out of Harry June’s neck. Even twisting the skin a bit to make sure it really hurts. Who cares if they are next door neighbors? Who cares if Keeho used to literally babysit him? The one bad thing about living close enough to campus that he doesn’t need to be in a dorm is that he’s still expected to take care of the kid, just without getting paid.
Harry June smiles through the pain and anger. In retaliation, he sways close, plants his heel on Keeho’s toe and leans all of his weight on Keeho’s foot.
Oooooh, he better be glad these shoes aren’t new, bitch! Keeho would have wound up on the evening news! High schooler or not, he would have swung! Keeho fakes a laugh. He untwists the back of Harry June’s neck and, instead, grabs a fistful of the kid’s ugly, neon-green hair that his mom surely doesn’t know about yet or she would have hacked it off. “What do you even want , Looney Tunes? Need me to change the bulb in your nightlight?”
“I can change my own light bulbs now, thank you very much.” Harry June smiles straight in his face, but at least he removes his boot from Keeho’s foot and guides Keeho towards the far wall. Over here, they have a semblance of privacy, although Taeseung is kind of close and perhaps within earshot. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Harry June asks, keeping his face neutral despite the acidity of his words. “You know I’ve got dibs.”
This again?
Keeho yanks Harry June closer by his hair but keeps a smile plastered on his face in case anyone is watching. “Do you think I want your fucking boyfriend, bitch?”
Harry June stops smiling in his face to whirl around but Dongil is still at the edge of the crowd where he’s always been, not even looking their way. When Harry June turns back around, he releases his vice-grip hold on Keeho’s shoulder. “He’s not my boyfriend!”
Keeho unhands the poor guy’s hair but doesn’t stop pushing his fake smile. “He better not be. He’s like six or seven years older than you.”
That makes Harry June even angrier. “Just don’t flirt with him in front of me!”
At least the music isn’t as loud way over in the corner so they don’t have to shout at each other to be heard. That doesn’t stop them from shouting at each other. “Or what? What are you gonna do? You gonna fight me?”
“I’ll tell Intak.”
“What’s he gonna do? Fight me?”
“I saw you two getting handsy.”
Handsy ? Who even says that? “We weren’t flirting.” Yes, maybe he and Dongil had gotten right up on each other but how else were you gonna talk to somebody at a loud ass party? Keeho switches topics. “If you drink even one swallow of alcohol, I’m knocking all of your teeth out.” He grabs Harry June by the chin and squeezes his cheeks until the kid’s lips look like those of a fish. “Don’t you dare pop that zit or it’ll scar. You better not stay here later than eleven and you better go straight home.”
Harry June says something. Probably something smart and cutting and scathing, words he’d never utter in front of his mother, but the syllables are lost behind his pinched lips and squeezed cheeks.
Keeho smiles at him. Almost coos at him. Maybe he’s not twelve anymore but Keeho’s still a bit too used to taking care of him. He releases his hold on the kid’s face. “You better be glad I’m nice.”
Harry June lifts a middle finger, but he does it quickly, hastily, half-assed, like he’s still afraid to completely extend his finger.
Keeho feigns a lunge at him and Harry June goes skittering off with a pitchy, nervous laugh.
“At least his outfit is nice,” Keeho comments, watching him cut through the living room. “He’s finally learning.” The denim offsets that loud ass hot pink which, in turn, gives that neon green on his shirt and shoes a tie-in to his hair. Maybe the dye is temporary? It better be or his mom will whoop his ass. Oh well, there’s not much else Keeho can do now. If they were actually blood-related or if he was still getting paid by Harry June’s mom, he’d try a little harder.
When he makes it to the kitchen, Keeho goes straight to the drink counter where Donghyuk is keeping diligent watch over cups and bottles and six-packs. Keeho’s just about to fill his cup with something frozen and fruity when he feels a sharp tap on his shoulder.
For a split second, Keeho thinks it’s Harry June again, but when he whirls around, it’s his BFF standing behind him.
“Girl, I need your opinion,” Jiung says instead of any kind of proper greeting.
“On the outfit?” Keeho prompts. He looks his BFF up and down. He takes in the ruffle-neck blouse. The slim fit jeans. The belt. The heels. The earrings. “It’s fire.”
“I know,” Jiung shoots back. He’s irritated but he still gives half a spin to show off the gold buttons that line his spine. He twists back around. “Tell me what you think of this.”
“Of the hair?” Keeho keeps going. “Okay, come through babydoll curls!”
Jiung repeats, slightly more exasperated, “I know. Ningning did it.”
“What do I think of the makeup? Eyeliner's winged to cloud nine. Gold everywhere. I see you, fake freckles! Blush on the nose!”
The serious expression Jiung tries to hold up almost cracks beneath a smile. There. Now his mood isn’t as sour. “That’s not what I need your opinion on.” Jiung waves his painted nails in front of his own face. “I know I look good. That’s never the question. That’s never up for debate.”
"I know that's right!" Then something sparks in the back of Keeho’s mind. A group project that needs finishing before midterms. “Wait. Hold on.” Keeho goes back to filling up his cup. He’s finally decided on the strawberry vodka and some Fanta to soften the blow. “Do you know if Chris is here? I’ve only been here for like half an hour.”
“Which Chris?”
“The one from overseas.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down at all, girl.”
“The one not from Australia.”
“You have to be more specific.”
“The blonde one.”
Jiung narrows his eyes. “Are you fucking with me on purpose? They’ve all bleached their hair, haven’t they?”
“Okay, well it’s more like blonde streaks than a full dye job.” Keeho holds up a hand. “About this tall. Super skinny. God, where would you know him from? Have you met him? He’s in one of my gen eds. We’re in a group for an assignment and I've got nobody's contact info.”
“The Chris in Drama Club?”
“No, no, no. Can't be right. I’m pretty sure he’s way too shy for Drama Club. I think he’s an English tutor? I think. I’ve gone to the library like once in the past year and a half so I’m not sure.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about, girl. Doesn’t even ring a bell.”
“Shit. Well, do you know if Jisung’s here?” He has got to get these assignment details!
“Which one, girl. There are, like, six of them in my major alone.”
“The one who dyed his hair red.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down! Are we talking cherry red or, like, coppery red or, like, see-it-from-outer-space red, girl?”
The fact that Keeho can see the difference in his head… “Isn’t copper more orange, though?”
“What shade of red, girl?” Jiung huffs, playfully impatient.
“Cherry red, I guess. The short Jisung. Smells like Doritos.”
Jiung's eyes light up with recognition at the mention of Doritos. “No, I haven’t seen that Jisung tonight. He usually doesn’t come to parties like this, does he? Well, not since he fell on the floor and bawled his eyes out, begging Minho to take him back during Chan's Halloween party.”
“What an ugly crier,” Keeho notes. He remembers that night. Dongpyo had been at his side. They’d laughed through the entire spectacle because they are both kind of heartless. “He put on that kind of a show in front of everybody just for Minho to leave him hanging anyway.” A terrible thought occurs to him. Makes him gasp. “If you ever see me in the middle of a party crying and begging some man to take me back–”
“For one, I’d record that,” Jiung threatens.
“If you ever see me do it,” Keeho talks over him, “just shoot me right then and there.”
Jiung smirks and flicks one of his soft, platinum curls out of his face. “You know I’ve got you.”
“Speaking of humiliating public rejections, you remember that guy who proposed at the fountain and got turned down in front of everyone?”
Jiung gets them back on track, stomping his foot. “Please, just let me ask your opinion on this.”
“Fine, bitch. I guess I’m not getting any school work done this weekend anyway.”
Jiung grabs Keeho’s forearm and shakes him slightly. “You might want to sit down for this.”
There’s not even an empty stool at the kitchen island! And the dining room, although emptier, is through the archway on the far side of the kitchen. Stupidly far away just to sit and hear some news. “It can’t be that bad,” Keeho says bravely. He lifts his drink to his mouth and sips. Ooooh, that’s nice and sharp and strong. He can tell the vodka is expensive just from the taste. Oooh! What a burn!
Jiung bluntly asks, “Is Jeno my sugar daddy?”
Surprise knocks Keeho upside his head. He chokes. His drink shoots out of his nose. Gushes like a faucet!
Jiung makes a face and takes a wide step sideways to avoid getting something bright red on his white clothes. “Didn’t I tell you to sit down?”
“Oh my fucking God!” Keeho screeches at the top of his lungs. Then he launches a “Fuck you, bitch,” in Donghyuk’s direction as the jock doubles over to laugh at him.
God! Did anyone see that? Keeho holds a hand over his still-dripping nose and spins around to look, but only a handful of people in the kitchen are even glancing in their direction. Alright. No one important saw that. No one like Not-Chani’s-Taeyang, who he doesn’t want to look bad in front of. And not Hyeop or Dongpyo, who definitely wouldn’t let him live this down if they saw.
“Ow ow ow ow.” Keeho presses his palm more firmly across his face but now the drink's dripping down his chin. “Why the hell does that hurt ?” The alcohol stings his nostrils. Makes him feel like he’s snorted fire. Makes his head spin. Keeho dashes for the stack of napkins near the stove and has to ungracefully blow his nose twice before his airway is clear enough for him to breathe easily. Jiung at least comes up and gives him a consoling pat on the back throughout the whole thing. Keeho says, “Let’s try that again. You think Jeno is your what ?" Now he's not speaking. He's screeching. "You think he's your who ? What happened?”
Jiung sighs wearily. He knows what he is getting himself into here. He knows how Keeho is. They've been best friends for, like, eight years. “You heard me. It’s not a stupid question, right? I mean… the amount of money he spends on me…” He trails off. Jiung holds up a bent wrist, displaying the stupidly large, gold bangle decorating his arm.
Keeho almost spits up more of his drink. His nose burns again with phantom pain. “Is that a C on both sides, bitch? Is that Chanel ?”
“Girrrrl,” Jiung sings out in confirmation.
Keeho has to set his cup down or else the rest of his drink will wind up on the tile floor. “What was the reason, bitch? That shit looks heavy as hell.”
“It kind of is but that’s not the point,” Jiung admits. “I didn’t do anything special. He took me out for lunch Wednesday or Thursday and then just fucking bought it for me at the department store before dropping me off at home.”
“Bitch,” Keeho exhales, impressed. He’s been keeping up with this Jeno and Jiung thing for the past couple of months and every time he gets an update, he’s floored. Like, you could knock him over with a feather, that’s how bonkers it all is. It’s like something off a viral Twitter thread. Something out of a crazy Reddit post. Some batshit TikTok. Shit’s so unprecedented that you kinda have to sit there a few moments and wonder if it’s all fucking fake. “Aren’t y’all still in the talking stage? Last you told me? A bitch is confused.”
Jiung’s voice goes high and squeaky. “ Are we talking? Is that what it is? I thought he and I were just friends. His friends are friends with my friends.”
“Do friends just buy their friend-of-friends Chanel ?”
“Maybe the ones in a certain tax bracket do.”
Before they can continue their conversation, one of the Ryu twins sidles up to the drink counter, reaching between them to grab a cup from the towering stack. “Ahh, didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says when he realizes they’ve both stopped talking to look up at him.
“No, no,” Jiung says, tugging on Keeho’s arm to pull him aside. “We’re the ones blocking the fucking way.”
They probably shouldn’t have halted their convo so abruptly. So suspiciously. But, as far as Keeho knows, the Ryu twins don’t know Jeno. Jeno's, like, too rich for public university. Probably. Keeho’s tempted to pick up where they left off but Jiung’s not even looking at him.
His BFF stares up at the twin with a twinkle of awe in his eyes and a real blush creeping in underneath his fake freckles. It’s like he’s never seen one of the twins this up close before. Maybe he hasn’t. They are cute, Keeho reasons, and they're popular on campus. Not as popular as Keeho, but–
Keeho saves them all from a bout of awkward silence. “Didn’t think you came to parties like this.”
“Usually don’t,” the twin says curtly. He's tall. Broad-shouldered. A tan coming in. “But we heard they go all out with the drinks here, so…” He doesn’t offer much else in terms of words as he looks over the selection of alcohol and sodas and juices lined up on the counter in a multitude of colorful bottles. Then the Ryu twin smiles as an idea hits him. The bright emotion softens his usually sharp, hard expression. “Slide me that Grey Goose, would you, Keeho?”
Technically the bottle is tucked into the ice bucket closer to Donghyuck but Keeho gets up on his tip toes and stretches over the kitchen counter to grab the bottle by the neck. Then he slides it across the marble countertop towards the twin.
The guy pours himself a fourth of a cup and doesn’t bother softening it with soda before he lifts the cup to his mouth and tips the clear liquid down his throat. He winces at the burn. “Ahh, that’s the good stuff,” he says, more to himself than to either of the others, and then he pours quite a bit more into the cup before wandering to the other side of the kitchen to glance over the food.
Jiung lowers his voice even though the guy is out of earshot. “Which twin was that?”
“Junseo,” Keeho answers swiftly. “The older one.”
Jiung tilts his head, confused. “How can you tell them apart? They’re identical. They even dress the same and wear each other’s jerseys to fuck with everyone." He pauses for a moment, wagging a finger as he recalls something. "They’re the ones who play lacrosse, right? Is that what that sport is?”
“Don’t start me to lying. All sports are the same to me.”
“No. Lacrosse doesn’t sound right. Lacrosse. Lacrosse... No. Is it rugby that they play? That one’s got the net, doesn’t it?”
“Bitch, I don’t know. Don't all fucking sports have a net, girl?”
“Volleyball, then. That feels right. They play volleyball,” Jiung decides, though he still sounds unsure. “Although it could be basketball. I really don’t know the names. Anyways, the twins go out of their way to look alike so how can you tell the twins apart when no one else can?”
“Something must be wrong with my eyes because they look like totally different people to me,” Keeho admits. “It’s all in the eyebrows. In the chin shape. The cheekbones. Besides, Youngseo is prettier.”
“Girl, I guess ,” Jiung says, throwing up a hand in surrender. “You make it sound easy.”
“What? There’s no trick to it. You just learn them like you learn anybody else. It’s not like I get any satisfacation from knowing which is which.”
Jiung scrunches up his nose. “Uhh. That sounds off. Take it from the top.”
“It’s not like I get any satis… Shit. Satisfaction,” Keeho corrects himself.
Jiung holds his arm up and, contemplative, stares down at the chunky gold bangle Jeno gifted him.
Now that Keeho looks him up and down again, it’s obvious why Jiung’s got a touch of gold sparkle around his eyes tonight. Now it makes sense why he wore a top with no sleeves. Such simple heels. It’s all to accentuate the accessory. It's all to make a statement.
Jiung says, “Not gonna lie, we don’t even text like that, yet this is the third thing he’s bought me, not including dinner.” And just like that, they’re back to talking about Jeno. "But this is miles more expensive than anything else he's gotten me so it must mean something."
“Biiiiitch,” Keeho drags out the syllable like it’s a note from a song. Much too loudly, he commends, “You must be knocking him the fuck out! That thang must be gripping .”
“We haven’t even kissed yet,” Jiung makes sure he knows. He digs his nails into Keeho’s arm to make him shut up now that he looks around and realizes half the people in the kitchen are staring in their direction due to Keeho's volume.
Keeho fixes Jiung with a look, head tilted. “I think sugar daddy’s a strong term, hon. Definitely the wrong one to use here. Especially if all you two do is go to dinner .” He tilts his head a bit farther.
Jiung rolls his eyes. “I swear it’s all we do. We just hang out with Jaehyun and the other Jaehyun at the golf place. That and mall trips.”
“Mmmhmm.”
Jiung ignores his best friend’s obvious skepticism. “Maybe he’s just showing off? Tossing some loose change around?”
“Just to hang out?”
“That's what rich guys do.”
One of the Ryu twins comes up to the counter, then. They don’t bother with an ‘excuse me’ or anything as they lean around Keeho to grab an empty cup. They pour themselves a drink. Two different kinds of vodka. Two different kinds of bubbly, carbonated soda. Plenty of ice.
“I like your hair, Youngseo,” Jiung trills.
The twin looks up at him. Smiles. Looks away.
Keeho snorts. “Your presentation was good today, Junseo. Don’t take what Miss Choi said seriously. She’s mean to everyone. Especially me.”
Ryu Junseo looks up at him. Makes eye contact. Gives him the faintest stretch of a smile. It's only a microscopically different reaction from earlier. “That’s some nice perfume, Keeho,” he states before turning around and leaving.
He’s gone all of three seconds before Jiung slaps Keeho’s shoulder. “Why did you just let me be loud and wrong like that?”
“ I did?” Keeho points to himself. “ You were the one calling out all confidently. I thought you knew what you were doing.”
“You could have given me a signal.”
“What kind of signal?”
“Girl, any kind!”
Keeho snorts back a giggle. "When could I have signaled anything when you were being all bold?"
Jiung groans in very un-Jiung-like distress. “Like, why would the same one come back twice? To fuck with us?”
“He poured the first drink for his brother. You didn’t watch?”
“Well... He could have corrected me!”
His humiliation makes Keeho laugh and laugh and then lauuuugh.
“I bet he fucking hates me now, girl,” Jiung whines. He spins around towards the counter and reaches for a cup to pour himself a drink. Though he’s ridiculously light on the pour, mainly filling his cup with lemonade and Sprite. When he turns back around, he doesn't lift his arm too high so that he can point discreetly. “Which one is which?”
“Youngseo is on the left,” Keeho says after just a glance at the other end of the kitchen island. The twins are huddled together over a plate of boneless chicken wings with a mountain of ranch dressing in the middle. Keeho goes, “Youngseo’s, like, slightly shorter.” Really. Truly. Honestly. They look nothing alike to him. “You can’t tell them apart? For real?”
“You can ? For real?”
That makes Keeho roll his eyes. Yes, the twins both have their dark, shoulder-length hair parted to the right. Yes, they both wear matching logo shirts from American Eagle, shell necklaces and 7 For All Mankind jeans. But, like, they aren’t exact mirrors of each other. The differences are there if you look. “Youngseo’s prettier,” he says again. “And Junseo’s handsomer. That’s the difference.”
Perhaps the brothers hear their names because they both glance up.
Jiung looks away so he won’t get caught staring. “Youngseo’s the one on the left?”
“Right.”
“I thought you said he was on the–” Jiung cuts himself off. “Never mind.” He takes a swig of his drink, pondering. “Maybe it’s because you have a class with one of them so you just know what to look out for. Like a mole or something.”
“Bitch, I told you. It’s all in the chin and cheekbones and shit.”
But they aren’t even supposed to be talking about the twins. They are supposed to be talking about Jeno. Jiung switches topics without pausing. “Maybe he’s got enough money to burn that buying lunch and Chanel for a friend is just something he can do without putting thought to it. Maybe he doesn't even really get how much money it is.”
“That makes sense.” Keeho leans against the counter and reminds himself that this is rides-a-Ducati Jeno. This is Mom’s-a-famous-singer/actress, 'maybe you've heard of her?' Jeno. This is richer than the Hwangs Jeno. More loaded than the Sakatas Jeno. “Wish I had somebody to just buy me Chanel whenever.”
“I didn’t ask him to,” Jiung insists with a huff.
“Actually, no. I’d prefer Gucci, bitch.”
“I don’t even stay close to him for the gifts. Girl, I don't even really remember how we started hanging out.”
“Wait, wait, hold on. No. I’d rather have Versace.”
“Even if he didn’t buy me anything, I’d still hang out with him. He and his friends are just kinda fun to be around.”
“That’s got to be a lie.”
“It isn’t, girl. Lay off. Eat the rich or whatever, but he makes me laugh." A blush spills across his cheeks. He smiles. "He makes me feel pretty.”
Keeho pinches his lips into a firm line. Doesn’t he make Taeyang laugh? Didn’t he get all pretty for Taeyang tonight? What gives! Where’s his fairytale love story? Where’s his Cinderella transformation? Where’s his prince riding in on a white horse to tell him he looks beautiful?
Jiung self-consciously spins the bangle around on his wrist. “I just want to know what any of this means. It feels like too much effort to be nothing.”
Keeho blows a raspberry, just a tad jealous. Okay. More than a tad. He's quite jealous. “Maybe he likes you.”
That makes Jiung toss his head back and laaaaaugh in complete disbelief. He gasps for breath. “No way in hell, girl. I’m not his type. I can’t be.”
Keeho shrugs. “I’ve seen weirder pairings.”
Coming up between them, Intak suddenly slaps his hands down on their shoulders, startling them both.
Jiung jumps out of his skin. He would scream in surprise but now he has to fight to swallow the drink that's choking him up. He slaps a hand on his chest and spins away to cough.
Keeho's jumpscared for an entirely different reason. “Oh, what is this ? I mean… What’s going on? What’s going on? What happened here? What is this, hon?” Because whoever took some scissors to Intak’s hair today needs to be fired, bitch. No, bitch, they need their cosmetology license revoked because this is cruel and unusual punishment! Holy fucking shit. There’s nothing on this planet Intak could have done to deserve this. "What did they do to you?"
Intak, to his credit, doesn’t quite understand why Keeho’s rapidly firing off so many questions at him. Yeji's younger brother just sticks out his tongue playfully and stoops forward when Keeho waves him closer.
“Look this way. Look at me.” Keeho reaches up and runs his fingers through the guy’s chopped hair, working most of the volume away from Intak’s small face and pushing it behind his ears instead. “Turn that way? Let me see the sides.” More fussing. “Alright, now look back at me. Hmmm.” Okay, the haircut isn’t as wretched as Keeho first thought but, oof, what happened to his bangs ? Did the stylist start them but not finish them? Why do they look like that? They're noticeably uneven! Keeho drags his fingers across Intak’s forehead, parts the bangs down the middle so that the messiness looks purposeful at least. Layered. Textured. And not just butchered. “You got a haircut ,” he says at last through clenched teeth.
“Had to,” Intak says, all smiles and soft giggles, still not catching on to Keeho's horror. “It was getting too long for school. Do you like it?”
“Well, I– Well... I don't– It’s something ,” Keeho manages. He leans his head back some to get a better look at the whole picture and then he leans in again to continue fussing with the hair behind Intak’s ears. It's just short enough that it won't really lay flat. How frustrating. At least the guy’s hair has always been thick and healthy. It should grow back soon. “Is Yeji here?”
“Yeah. I’m DD.”
That reminds him. He’s gotta check with his own ride and make sure he’s not about to be stranded on a side of town he’s unfamiliar with.
"Sis is around here somewhere," Intak states, glancing around the noisy, crowded kitchen. "Want me to find her?"
"No. I'm happy hanging with you."
At that, Intak's face reddens.
Keeho frowns. “You look exhausted. What’s up?”
“Nothing bad. Had taekwondo tonight. It ran late.” Intak’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. He tilts forward, nearly falling against Keeho. “You smell nice.” He opens his eyes slowly slowly slowly and looks into Keeho’s face. “You're beautiful.”
“Thanks, hon,” Keeho says, but he’s less concerned about the compliments and more concerned about how White Suburban Housewife Intak’s hair still looks even after all of the adjustments he’s made. Jesus fuck! Did the hairdresser hand him a mirror and show Intak this ? Did he hand the mirror back to them and think the cut was okay ? Did he pay them full price plus a tip and then walk out thinking everything was alright? Biiiitch. If Keeho had been there, he’d have demanded a discount, at the very fucking least. “Okay, let’s… Let’s fix this up a bit, hon. Just a few minor touches. You know?” He reaches his hands up to the crown of Intak’s head and spends a bit more time running his fingers through Intak's hair. Perhaps because it's been freshly washed, it's as soft as silk between his fingers and it smells strong. Like eucalyptus. Keeho pushes Intak's hair back from his forehead. Flips it one way and then the other until he’s got a better idea of how it naturally falls. He combs through it with his fingertips. Smooths it down. Styles it.
The whole time, Intak watches him. Damn near without blinking. He leans a little bit farther forward every time Keeho massages his scalp.
Keeho’s Hair Salon gets interrupted by a very close shout. “Keekee! Taco!”
It’s Not-Chani’s-Taeyang. Only he calls them that, running the syllables so close together that you’d think it was one weird name: Keekeetaco!
“You guys are like yin and yang tonight,” Taeyang calls out.
Keeho blinks. He pulls away from Intak to get a better look. “Uhhh.”
Taeyang waggles his finger between the two of them like they are a package deal. "See?"
Keeho lowers his hands from Intak’s hair and takes a second look at their outfits. His own shirt is black with white swaths of Dongil’s fabric paint in a swarm of dizzying shapes across it like an all-over print. Intak’s shirt, inversely, is white with black lettering in tightly-packed horizontal stripes. Like a newspaper. “It does kind of go, doesn’t it?” Keeho points out. They are both wearing black skinny jeans and black and white high-tops. Like the coordination was planned or something. Like Intak saw Keeho’s fit pic on Insta and, like, wore a similar outfit to match or something outrageous.
It’s definitely just coincidence, though. Right?
“Can I take a pic of you guys?” Taeyang asks, but he’s already pulling his phone out of his pocket.
At first, Keeho wants to protest because, like, no one really takes pics of him like he takes pics of himself! And does Taeyang even know his angles? Lord. And the guy’s certainly not gonna properly utilize this rather intense overhead lighting!
“Sure, you can,” Intak permits, delighted. "Get my good side." He snakes an arm around Keeho’s shoulder and presses their cheeks together.
“Oh, no no no,” reprimands Keeho. “We don’t do those.” He lowers Intak’s finger heart. “Now pose .”
Taeyang leans in close, counts them off and snaps a couple of pics. Then he steps back, turns his phone a little and snaps a few more shots. In Keeho's opinion, he didn't take enough. What if they're all awful? “Wanna see?” Taeyang's already coming up to them and turning his phone around to show them the screen.
Keeho squints at the device. “I can’t see a goddamn thing through that gigantic crack in your screen.”
“It’s been like that for four months,” Taeyang says with a sigh.
“How do you use it? How do you type on it? How does it even still work? How do you not hate yourself?”
“Ignore the crack,” Taeyang huffs. "It's not like I don't know it's there."
“We look nice together,” Intak half-interrupts, almost as an aside.
That makes the other two shift their focus.
Keeho looks at the phone screen a second time. The pic on display is nice. He chances slicing open his finger by swiping it across the horrendously cracked screen to get to the next shot. They do look nice. Like Taeyang's actually good at taking photos or something. The overhead lighting doesn’t put any crazy shadows under Keeho's eyes or nose. Intak’s smile is so bright and full of light. It’s like his tiredness from earlier has completely melted away. Keeho giggles. Intak's big grin is borderline goofy in comparison to his own serious model expression and fashionista pose, but that's just how their personalities work together. Keeho flips through the rest of the shots until he finds one where their faces almost fill the entire screen. It kind of gives off editorial section vibes. Maybe a full-page perfume ad? Slap a black and white filter on it and the shot wouldn't look out of place in Harper's Bazaar or W.
Taeyang flips his phone around and starts tapping at the screen. “Can I post this?”
“Sure, just tag me,” Keeho states.
“You guys match really well,” Taeyang says, not looking up.
But didn’t he already say that? About their outfits? But before Keeho can question him, Taeyang wanders off without even properly ending the convo. Keeho attempts to go after him, but Intak’s arm is just heavy enough around his shoulders that Keeho doesn’t get far without getting pulled back. “What did you say?”
Intak startles. His eyes go wide. “I didn’t say anything.”
Keeho’s positive he heard Intak mumble something. 'Stay' maybe? Oh well. Where’d Jiung go? Wasn’t he just standing here? Or maybe he felt weird and dipped? Did he see someone else he knew? Did Jeno show up? Well, anyways, Keeho should probably put the finishing touches on Intak’s hair. He noticed a few places that need his attention in the photos they took.
He spins them around so that they’re facing each other and then puts his hands back in Intak’s hair.
Intak laughs like it tickles and then kinda sorta leans into Keeho’s touch, eyes drifting closed like he wants to doze off.
Keeho flips Intak’s hair so his part doesn’t look like a lightning bolt. He smooths Intak’s hair down. Flattens the fly-aways. There. Now it’s presentable. He should get paid for this. He pulls away and takes a step backward to admire the job.
Intak shakes his head to fling his bangs out of his eyes.
Keeho watches in mild horror, jaw on the fucking floor, as half of his hard work comes undone right in front of him.
His devastated face only makes Intak laugh, though. “My favorite song started playing. Come on, let’s go dance,” he says. Then he grabs his friend by the hand and pulls Keeho out to where the music is fun and loud and the lyrics are about love.