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Wash everyone’s used dishes after every meal, including snacks, and make sure the dining area and the kitchen are sparkling clean at all times, preferably to the point that it would be safe to eat off of all the surfaces. This should be done on a daily basis for the entire week ahead—no buts, no ifs, and certainly no assistance from any of the members.
Those had been Hongjoong’s instructions for the punishment (or as he prefers to call it, “disciplinary action”) and he’d declared them in front of everyone after asking them to gather in the living room. The recipient of said verdict, Wooyoung, had stood beside him while he spoke, looking straight ahead and refusing to be mentally present because it isn’t the first time he’s being openly castigated by their leader.
He hadn’t failed to notice, however, that even though the others have also gotten used to the scenario, there’s still a hint of fear, a wisp of worry in their eyes. This had told him one thing.
They’re not troublemakers; Wooyoung is. He’s the only one in the group who gets scolded often enough to be able to move past guilt and feel nothing but apathy. Somehow, he finds a sense of loneliness in that notion, the implication that he’s the sole black sheep in the herd.
Upon that thought coming back to him, he presses the sponge harder against the oily plate in his hand, like doing so would make him feel better (it doesn’t). He switches to the abrasive layer when the remaining piece of food stuck to the flat dish refuses to budge. Geez, has it welded itself onto the surface? Wooyoung’s close to losing his driblet of hope when a body gently collides with his back and a hand reaches out to take the bottle of dishwashing soap on the counter and squeeze a large drop of the liquid on the sponge.
“To get rid of something that stubborn, you can try softening it and making it more slippery instead of using additional force,” says San, who then takes a step to his left so the two of them are side by side. He watches his friend follow his advice and succeed in seconds. “See?”
“Well aren’t you a genius,” remarks Wooyoung in a clearly sarcastic tone. Whenever he’s upset, the desire to take someone down with him simmers in his subconscious, and right now he can sense it making its way to boiling point. He places the spotless plate on top of the small pile he’s built in one corner of the sink and moves on to the next.
Unexpectedly, San doesn’t appear to be affected by the mockery and goes, “Always have been, but you’ve been too busy to notice.”
“Tell Hongjoong-hyung to get off my case and I won’t be as busy,” says Wooyoung without looking at him. He fails to filter out the contempt in his voice, and this time San is quick to pick up on it, slipping an arm around his waist.
“I’m helping you with this,” he says. The way he’s phrased the statement indicates that it’s not an offer nor is it a possibility but a decision he’d made prior to approaching Wooyoung, who gets flustered by the whole thing for reasons he isn’t capable of pinpointing just yet.
He whips his head to the side to make eye contact with the other. “This is my punishment, not yours,” he reminds San. “Go bother someone else.”
San seems slightly taken aback by that. “So I’m bothering you?”
“When are you not?” spits Wooyoung. Normally, getting on someone’s nerves like this would bring him the same satisfaction he gets from mastering a dance move or getting a recipe just right. After all, pissing someone off is being aware of what makes them tick, which isn’t knowledge you’d have of a stranger or an acquaintance. Wooyoung knows how much San dislikes it when his kindness is met with rejection or, worse, ignored altogether, so he grins on the inside the moment San’s face falls at the rhetorical question. Yeah, that’s right: go back to your goody-two-shoes world, he thinks as San lets him go and turns the other way, ready to leave the kitchen.
At least that’s what Wooyoung had assumed he would do. Because San doesn’t even let an entire second pass before facing Wooyoung again and saying, “Are you sure you don’t want me here? I won a trophy for Best Human Dishwasher in elementary school, you know.”
The ridiculousness of the award, the image of a young, tiny San washing mountains of plates, or the nonchalant way adult San delivers the statement—Wooyoung can’t discern which one makes him laugh until his stomach hurts. And since he knows Hongjoong shouldn’t hear him having fun while getting punished, he has to contain himself by pursing his lips and closing his eyes, which only triggers more of his giggles. Only when he’s managed to compose himself after half a minute does he hear San snickering beside him.
“I take it you’ve changed your mind?” asks San with a triumphant grin.
Glaring at him halfheartedly, Wooyoung answers, “You’re gonna get in trouble, too, if hyung or the other members catch you.”
San shrugs. “That’s fine. If Hongjoong-hyung sees me washing dishes, then he can’t possibly punish me with it, right?”
“He can give you a more difficult chore to handle, like mopping the entire dorm.”
“Mmm, I don’t mind. I’ll finish all the other rooms first so I can hang out with you here while mopping the same spot for fifteen minutes.”
Wooyoung has to cover his own mouth the second he starts chuckling again. Upon calming down, he looks over at San and immediately regrets it because the smile on the other’s face is all kinds of sweet and disarming, melting almost every ounce of meanness Wooyoung naturally possesses. He wants to formulate a more effective insult to drive San away, though now it’s for the sake of saving him from Hongjoong’s iron fist. Still, it’s hard to erase such a warm, eager expression with a verbal uppercut. No one looks at Wooyoung this way. No one ever has.
The thought causes Wooyoung’s face to heat up, so he brings his gaze back to the sink before speaking. “Do whatever you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
San makes a sound that’s a cross between a squeal and a giggle and reattaches himself to Wooyoung. “Should I wait for you to finish soaping everything before I get to rinsing?”
“You can use the other sponge,” answers Wooyoung. “It’ll go faster if we do it together. But it’d be better if you rinsed and I dried or vice versa.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” says San and goes over to the other’s right side so he can access the sponge and dishwashing liquid more easily. “I can take care of the second step.” He then hums a soft tune unfamiliar to Wooyoung, but it’s undoubtedly a love song judging by the melody. The rest of the dorm is quiet—the hour after meals often is, with everyone rendered calm by their filled stomach—so Wooyoung allows himself to be swept away by the notes floating in the air around him.
Although Jongho’s bound to be deemed the main vocalist once they debut, San’s voice is equally worthy of praise, and Wooyoung gets a rush of comfort listening to him whenever he sings out of the blue. Perhaps San has observed that about him because he has given Wooyoung a song after many of the instances Hongjoong has reprimanded him. Or maybe he just enjoys singing and Wooyoung’s reading too much into things, a habit that manifests itself only when San’s around.
“You know,” starts San as he proceeds to wash away the suds and Wooyoung stands back with a microfiber dish towel in hand, “I sort of envy you for not being scared of Hongjoong-hyung.”
Wooyoung has to smirk at that. “You think I’m not scared of him?”
“Are you?”
“Hell no. Why would I be?”
San’s smile turns his eyes into horizontal half-moons. “I don’t have the courage to say that kind of thing, not even when he’s somewhere else. And I follow the rules he’s set because I’m afraid of the consequences. I wish I were more…unconcerned about all that and able to act more freely. Like you.”
“So you want everyone to think you’re a hopeless rebel, too?” asks Wooyoung with one eyebrow raised.
San throws him an expression of innocent surprise. “I don’t think of you that way.”
“Don’t patronize me, San-ah.”
“I’m not,” he insists. “I admire your attitude because you choose to be yourself and refuse to be molded according to others’ expectations. I think most people have the tendency to act in order to please their peers or superiors rather than themselves. I’m definitely guilty of that, so I get envious at how you manage to do whatever makes you happy at the moment.”
“It’s no way to live,” remarks Wooyoung as he begins drying the first plate San gives him. “When you’re surrounded by people who abide by the rulebook to a T, it’s impossible not to question every action you make since no one else is behaving the same way.”
San turns off the faucet, turns his head toward his friend, and says, “I want to be on your side, but you’ll have to teach me the ropes. I feel bad just thinking about going against what our leader says.”
“Are you really up for it? I was born a recalcitrant, you know.”
“Even better. You have a lifetime of knowledge to share with me.”
Wooyoung pauses to assess the situation. “Nothing I say will discourage you, huh?”
“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if you tell me to,” says San, and then he frowns. “Although technically that’s not possible since the earth’s round…”
Wooyoung bursts into giggles and presses himself against San’s left arm to nuzzle his neck. “God you’re cute.”
“What’s going on here?” San and Wooyoung whip around to find Hongjoong a few feet away from them, his eyes threateningly wide and his mouth slack in annoyance. The calmness of his tone further conveys his exasperation. “San-ah, why are you the one doing the dishes?”
Wooyoung’s about to answer for San, thinking that he wouldn’t be able to do it himself, but the latter casually answers, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”
Caught off guard by the quote, Wooyoung lets out a loud laugh once before pursing his lips shut. Meanwhile, San has enough self-control to limit himself to shakily exhaling through his nose.
Hongjoong’s expression darkens at their reactions. “Since you like socializing so much,” he says to San, “I’m giving you a full week to establish a solid friendship with the broom, vacuum, and mop. Come with me to the bathroom so I can check how much cleaner you’ll add to the water.”
San follows the older member without another word, but as he’s rounding the corner to the narrow hallway, he looks back at Wooyoung and shows him a kissy face. Wooyoung returns the gesture, causing the both of them to beam at one another.
Once alone, he picks up from where San has left off. He’s focusing on his task when a specific term fit for the situation comes to mind.
Partner in crime.
He likes the sound of that.
It’s as satisfying as seeing the spotless plate in his hands.
~
A loud thud in the room cuts through Wooyoung’s dream about flying hippos and mint chocolate rivers. With one eye half open, he twists his torso just enough to see Yeosang standing by the closet, frozen in place and visibly guilt-ridden.
“That was my phone,” he admits. “Sorry.” He hastily picks up the gadget before walking out of the room.
Even though a small part of Wooyoung wants to go back to sleep, the sudden interruption has done a fantastic job of waking his brain up, so he has no choice but to get up, make the bed, and head to the bathroom. While washing his face, he remembers that today is the day off they’d been asking for from the company, what with the intense training they’ve been undergoing nonstop. Since he’s not much of a planner, he hasn’t thought of anything special to do, but he figures it’ll be fine since even watching paint dry would be fun with San around.
The thing is, San isn’t around.
“He went shopping with Seonghwa-hyung,” Yunho informs him when he knocks before entering the bedroom and doesn’t see his friend. “And they were talking about a film that was released last week, I think, so they might go see that, too.” Yunho’s eyes widen ever so slightly when he notices the shift in Wooyoung’s mood. “Were you supposed to spend the day with him or…?”
Not anymore. “No, I was just going to ask him something,” lies Wooyoung without batting an eyelash. “And it can wait. Thanks, Yunho-ya.” Although he goes to the kitchen next, he’s lost his appetite by the time he opens the fridge, so he decides to sit at the dining table with a glass of water and check his phone. His mom and an old friend have each sent him a message, but there’s nothing from San. Not a text, not a chat message, not a missed call.
The irritation that’s been trickling into his consciousness spreads like wildfire in a matter of seconds. He knows he doesn’t have any right, but he feels betrayed. Doesn’t he make it a point to tell San prior to going out on his own or with other people? Apparently, the old adage about treating others the way you want to be treated isn’t known to every person.
“That water’s going to boil if you keep sulking,” remarks Jongho upon sitting down across from him. Wooyoung taps on the YouTube app so he can feign being too busy to respond. “It’s Sannie-hyung, isn’t it?”
“It’s not always about him,” blurts out Wooyoung.
“And yet it is.”
Triggered, Wooyoung drops his phone onto the table and says, “It wouldn’t have taken him three seconds to let me know about his and Seonghwa’s shopping and movie date.”
Appearing satisfied with his goal of coaxing the truth out of the other, Jongho goes, “That’s true, but have you ever told him that he has to give you that sort of information every time?”
“I shouldn’t have to. He’s supposed to be aware of it by now because I always do it for him.”
Jongho narrows his eyes. “Hyung, you do know that most people respond better to outright requests than implied ones, right?”
Though the logic is sound, Wooyoung’s frustration won’t let him recognize it. “I don’t care. This is the only day we could’ve had to ourselves—”
“You’re always together, though, with or without schedules.”
Even if Wooyoung wants to retaliate and ultimately make Jongho shut up because he refuses to be defeated by someone younger than him, his brain does something it rarely does: acknowledge its mistake. He lets out a dismal sigh and glares at the wall closest to him, disappointment still crowding his thoughts. Given that there’s still a long day ahead of him, he starts contemplating if he should distract himself with a game or forget that it’s their day off and tire himself out by learning a new dance routine.
Goddammit, San, what’re you doing to me?
“We can go to that café you like,” suggests Jongho, who’s met by suspicion from the older boy. “What? Didn’t we hang out there with Yeosangie-hyung one time?”
“You’ve never asked me out anywhere, though.”
“Neither have you, but your misery’s making me miserable, and frankly, it’s pathe—ow!” Chuckling, Jongho rubs at the ankle Wooyoung had kicked. “When’d you get so strong?”
“Anger fuels my muscles.” Wooyoung grabs his phone, chugs down three-fourths of his water, and walks away while saying, “I’m giving you half an hour to get ready, and then let’s meet in the living room.”
By the time 9 AM rolls around, they’re at the small coffee shop, Wooyoung placing their order at the cashier and Jongho guarding their table. When the other joins him, Jongho asks, “Do you want to proceed to ranting now or wait for the food to arrive?”
Wooyoung chews on the corner of his lower lip for a few seconds. “Do I really complain about him that often?”
“It’s not so much the frequency as it is that whenever you complain or sulk around, it’s related one way or another to Sannie-hyung.”
“I can’t help it. The little things get on my nerves for some reason. I don’t want them to—no one wants to be upset with their friend on a daily basis—but they do, and it sucks.”
“It’s part of the adjustment period, it seems.”
Wooyoung inwardly blames the earliness of the day for his slight confusion. “Adjustment period?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it a few times with my friends,” explains Jongho in a matter-of-factly tone. “People always expect a new couple to get along with one another right away, but there are some who need to acclimate to the relationship since they have opposing personalities, like you and Sannie-hyung.”
Everything Wooyoung hears takes a while to be processed in his brain. “Excuse me?”
Jongho tilts his head to the side. “Is that not what’s happening with you two?”
“Why did you use the term ‘new couple’?”
“Well, ‘coz you two are dating and—”
“We are not dating!” hisses Wooyoung.
Jongho’s eyes and mouth turn into perfect O’s in shock. As though the universe has detected the severely awkward situation and wants to stop suffering from secondhand embarrassment, at that moment, the waiter comes over with their coffees and breakfast sandwiches. Jongho grabs the opportunity to take a sip of his hot drink and keep his mouth on the lip of the mug just so he won’t be expected to talk.
Wooyoung’s not having any of it. “What made you think that San and I are together?” he asks. When the other doesn’t move or speak, he places his forearms on the table and leans forward in a threatening stance. “Ya. Choi Jongho. Answer me, you punk.”
Sighing, Jongho puts down his coffee and makes eye contact with Wooyoung as he says, “Honestly, I just assumed you were, judging from your actions.”
“And what actions would those be?”
“Hyung—”
“Tell. Me.” The amount of venom in each syllable is enough to kill three men.
Jongho looks like he’s trying his best not to laugh. “You kiss and hug him every chance you get.”
“I do that to all of you,” argues Wooyoung.
“But not as often,” returns Jongho. “Also, you keep following him around, you tell him you love him even when there’s no reason to—”
“Are verbal expressions of love a crime now?!”
“Let me finish, hyung,” says Jongho calmly. Wooyoung complies. “You touch him like you have metal hands and his entire body’s a magnet; you turn into the most hot-headed infant on earth when he doesn’t yield to you; there are times you disappear with him for hours on end, and not even the managers know where you are; you’ve gained the ability to bring him up in every single conversation regardless of the topic—remember when I asked you if my outfit looked nice and you mentioned that Sannie-hyung’s thinking of having jjajangmyeon for lunch?—and, like what you’re currently doing, you get jealous whenever he chooses someone else over you.”
Wooyoung scowls at Jongho so hard he stops blinking. While he can supply a counterargument for each point Jongho has made, he might be deemed unnecessarily defensive, which in turn would only be considered another piece of evidence by the other. He literally and figuratively swallows his impulsion and remarks, “San and I are not dating. We’re close friends; no more, no less.”
Jongho shakes his head and puts up his hands in surrender. “Hey, yeah, understood. I shouldn’t have made any assumptions. Sorry, hyung.” He picks up one of his sandwich triangles, but before he takes an unusually large bite, he comments, “I still think you’d make a stupidly cute couple.”
Why murder is a felony punishable by law suddenly doesn’t make sense to Wooyoung when people like Jongho who are given free rein to terrorize the populace deserve to be pushed off a cliff. Nonetheless, he maintains his composure and focuses on his breakfast, trying not to take heed of the string of coquettish memories floating in his head.
In the late afternoon, Wooyoung is roused from his upright nap when he feels his earphones being removed. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sees San smiling and sitting next to him on the couch.
“You look like a baby elephant when you’re asleep,” coos San. “Were you watching a movie?”
Wooyoung notices that the screen of his laptop has gone dark. He folds it before putting it along with his earphones beside him. “Yeah, but I did an hour of cardio after lunch. I didn’t think it’d wipe me out.” Since San is wearing a loose shirt and a pair of shorts, he asks, “Have you been back long?”
“Not really. I got you something.” San brings out a square, white box he’s been hiding at his back and places it on Wooyoung’s lap. “Seonghwa-hyung and I were about to go home, but we passed by a newly opened dessert shop, and I remembered you wanted to try these.”
The box isn’t big, around half a ruler on all sides, and it’s tied with a shiny, cinnamon brown ribbon, which Wooyoung pulls loose. His face lights up at what he finds inside: four mini cream cheese tarts topped with fresh fruit.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I asked them to give me the bestsellers,” adds San. He links his left arm with his friend’s right. “You know, I went to your room this morning to invite you to come with us.”
Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at him. “You did?”
“Yeah,” says San with a nod, “but you seemed so comfy and peaceful, and you extended your dance practice last night, so I thought you could use a lot of rest today.”
The extremely valid, extremely caring excuse convinces Wooyoung that somewhere inside him is a monster undeserving of the other’s kindness because why else had he concluded that San had deliberately forgotten about him? Rather than admit this out loud, however, he presses his forehead against San’s and then plants a kiss on his left cheek. “You leave me in such awe sometimes, you know that?” he says in a whisper.
San blinks twice, puzzled, and remarks in the most innocent tone, “They’re only tarts, though? I was told that the cream cheese has bits of fruit in it so it’s kinda special, but it’s still just cream cheese.”
Wooyoung’s loud, high-pitched laugh fills the living room and reverberates throughout the dorm.
“Ya, what’s so funny?!” demands San, at a loss for what he should do with the boy that’s become a giggly mess in front of him. But even if it’s obvious that he doesn’t understand the other’s strong reaction, the sounds Wooyoung’s making are contagious enough to trigger his own laughter in seconds. Soon enough, they’re cackling together without a care, resembling children who find that blowing and popping soap bubbles is the epitome of humor.
“What am I going to do with you?” asks Wooyoung when their merriment slowly dies down, more to himself than San.
“So we think cream cheese is amusing now?” asks San in return.
Wooyoung refuses to be tickled pink by the statement. “It wasn’t the cream cheese.”
“Then what was it?”
A lingering, calculating stare precedes Wooyoung’s gentle answer. “You, Choi San, it’s you.”
San weakly slaps him on the shoulder, blushing out of shyness. “Whatever. You should eat one of those tarts now.” He stands up, ready to go to his room, but Wooyoung lifts the box with one hand before getting up and wraps his other arm around San’s thin frame—which earns him a yelp—so half of his chest is right against his friend’s back.
“Nuh-uh, you’re not leaving me again,” he declares and starts pulling San with him to the dining table. His grin is at his widest when Jongho appears from the hallway and stops in front of them.
Although Jongho’s eyes are locked onto Wooyoung’s, it’s apparent that the youngest member of the group is taking in everything in front of him and reaching certain conclusions that Wooyoung has, unfortunately, become all too aware of recently.
“Hey, Jongho-ya,” greets San, who has failed to sense the tension between the other two.
“Hi, hyung,” returns Jongho without breaking the eye contact he’s established. “I’m really glad you’re home.”
Wooyoung stiffens, triggering the tiniest of grins on Jongho’s face.
“Oh? How come?” asks San.
Don’t you dare, Wooyoung tells Jongho using only his eyes and eyebrows. I’m warning you. For a fleeting moment, he thinks he’ll get the upper hand given their age difference, but it dawns on him that that factor means shit to Jongho. The realization comes too late for him to put a stop to what happens next.
“Wooyoungie-hyung can stop missing you now.” Having said those six words, Jongho sprints back to his bedroom, leaving San dumbstruck and Wooyoung in a murderous state again.
One, two, three seconds later, San tilts his head to look at Wooyoung. “You missed me?”
Since he’s not in the mood for undiluted honesty, Wooyoung answers, “So what if I did?”
San breaks into a toothy grin and turns his entire body around to embrace Wooyoung, who has to extend his arm out to protect the tarts. He squeezes his friend around the neck and one shoulder while saying, “I missed you, too. I miss you like crazy when we’re not together.”
Lies, white or otherwise, have always helped Wooyoung deal with situations he finds overwhelming, uncomfortable, or bothersome. They’ve allowed him to survive in a world rife with disappointment and heartache hiding in dark corners, waiting to jump anyone who comes their way. No one can hurt you if you act one way and feel another: flinch when you’re fine, bleed when you’re bored, smile when you’re sick. Forge fiction on the spot and you’ll end up with armor and weapon both. Wooyoung is a master blacksmith by now.
But San’s different, so very different. He can’t and doesn’t lie. Inability’s well and good, understandable even, since people aren’t biologically built for falsities. Making a conscious decision to be honest all the time, though… It’s uncommon and unusual behavior is what it is. Who wants to stay truthful? What’s the point of that? Honesty is vulnerability, transparency. It’s going to war stark naked. How San can show no fear in front of the great sword ready to cut him open every time he reveals his thoughts and emotions is a mystery to Wooyoung.
What’s more bizarre, however, is how attracted he—a proponent of strategic lying—is to all that.
Wooyoung places a hand on the small of San’s back and whispers, “If you don’t let me go right now, San-ah, I’ll eat you in place of these tarts ‘coz I’m hungry as hell.”
Pink-faced San backs away at once. Wooyoung takes his hand to lead him to the table, where they sit side by side and share one of the desserts. While eating, he notices that their chairs are right against each other and that San is using his left hand to handle the fork because his right one is resting on the crevice formed by their legs and loosely clutching the hem of Wooyoung’s T-shirt.
Although Wooyoung could ask his friend why he’s doing what he’s doing and perhaps even tease him a little about it, he lets it go and pays full attention as San animatedly gives a summary and review of the film he’d seen with Seonghwa. There’s virtue in leaving some things unsaid, unasked, and forming your own assumptions. Maybe San’s compensating for the hours they weren’t together. Perhaps it’s his way of comforting Wooyoung after finding out he’d been missed. Or it could be that he doesn’t want them to be separated again. You belong here, the gentle pinch of his fingers is saying, with me, only me.
There’s no way to tell which possibility holds more validity, but it doesn’t matter. Because despite Wooyoung’s constant tantrums, strategic lies, and occasional coldness, it’s clear that San still wants to be with him, to close the tiniest gaps between them, physical or otherwise.
That’s the only truth he doesn’t mind living with.
~
Four hands shoot up in the air. Or rather, they’re lifted in a slow, hesitant manner indicative of embarrassment at the question and their owners’ corresponding answers.
Yunho, the initiator of it all and whose hand is also raised, grins from ear to ear and says, “Honestly, I’m more surprised that not all of us have exes.”
“I was born too busy to even think about having a love life,” remarks Hongjoong from the sofa.
“Unfortunately, the guys I wanted to date were either single and straight or taken and straight,” comments Seonghwa, who’s sitting cross-legged next to their leader.
“I didn’t have enough confidence a long time ago to confess to my handful of crushes,” admits Mingi while crawling on the floor to occupy the empty space to Yunho’s right, “and y’all know what happened when someone confessed to me when we were in our early trainee days. I don’t find anyone particularly interesting now, so there’s that.”
“When were you in a relationship?” asks Wooyoung to Jongho, genuinely curious since they’ve never talked about this as a group. For some reason, it has become a taboo topic of sorts that no one has bothered diving into, though admittedly it’s not something one can just insert in a conversation while changing in the dressing room or annihilating a team of strangers in a computer game.
Three minutes ago, however, Yunho had looked at the box of Pepero in his hand before muttering, “My ex-girlfriend was obsessed with this stuff,” which of course had caught the attention of the other six boys in the living room. The air had immediately thickened with the feeling of finally we can talk about this, and Yunho had followed up his statement with, “So who else here has dated someone before?”
“I don’t think it can qualify as a relationship in the strictest romantic sense,” answers Jongho, taking a quick sip of ramen soup straight from the plastic container. “I was in middle school, and we were close friends. Since a lot of our classmates started going out with another, we figured we should do the same. It was alright, but we weren’t properly in love, so we broke it off a little over two months in.”
“Mine’s similar,” says Yeosang. “We got together mostly because of peer pressure, though we ended up falling for each other.”
“Then why aren’t you still together?” asks Hongjoong, the interest evident in his tone representing everyone else’s.
“Her family migrated to Canada,” explains Yeosang in a gentler voice. Yunho and Seonghwa go aww. “We both knew we weren’t ready or mature enough to have a long-distance relationship, so we ended it before she left. We still talk from time to time, and she has a boyfriend now, which I’m really happy about. She’s looking forward to our debut.”
“Come here you,” says Wooyoung and pulls Yeosang into a semi-suffocating hug as they’re seated on the floor. “My heart breaks no matter how many times I hear that story.”
“You have a heart?” goes Hongjoong, raising an eyebrow. Wooyoung ignores him to focus on choking his friend as a way to comfort him. Yeosang wriggles out of his grasp in two seconds.
“Tell us a bit more about your snack-loving ex-girlfriend, hyung,” says Jongho in a subtly teasing tone.
Yunho shrugs. “She was cute, funny, caring, but her jealousy got out of hand. She didn’t even like it when I met up with friends, so I broke up with her and severed all connections we had. I don’t know where she is these days, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“It’s all for the best—she wouldn’t last five minutes as the girlfriend of an idol, not with all the fans we’re going to get here and overseas,” remarks Wooyoung with a smirk.
“That sounds like your ex, too, Wooyoung-ah,” says Yeosang, chuckling softly.
“Ex?” repeats San upon walking into the living room. He’d left a few minutes ago to talk to his dad over the phone. Although he eyes the cushioned spot beside Seonghwa, he plops down next to Mingi instead and brings his attention to Wooyoung.
“You have one, San-ah?” asks Yunho. “An ex-girlfriend or ex-boyfriend?”
San’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, causing the other boys to snicker. He shakes his head vigorously in answer before dropping his gaze to his knees. His ears have turned slightly red.
“So exactly one half of our team has dating experience,” declares Seonghwa. “Ya, Wooyoung-ah, you haven’t had your turn. You can’t keep your ex a secret from us.”
Wooyoung frowns at him. “Excuse me? Is it my fault no one’s letting me talk?”
“I’ll let you talk, hyung,” says Jongho, earning himself a whack on the arm care of his seatmate.
After making sure that everyone has properly shut their traps, Wooyoung goes, “She was my neighbor. Although we went to different schools, our mothers got close, so she and her mom came over a lot, and the two of us became friends. We had very similar personalities and interests, which was why I thought we’d make a great couple.”
“Hold on,” says Hongjoong, looking as though he’s had an epiphany. “You confessed to her first?”
“Yep,” answers Wooyoung flatly. As expected, everyone else in the room is shocked by the revelation.
“That doesn’t sound like you,” comments Mingi. “But it also sounds like you. Does that make sense?”
“It makes absolute sense,” says Yunho. “Like, we know Wooyoungie’s a romantic, but he’s not the type to chase people, which is kind of…unhinged, if you think about it.” He ducks in time to evade the unopened bag of corn chips Wooyoung chucks his way but hits Mingi’s shoulder instead.
“Get to the good part, get to the good part,” urges Yeosang, an all-knowing smile playing on his lips.
“Didn’t we just get to the good part?” asks Jongho.
“It turned out that prior to our first meeting, she’d been stalking me for a while,” says Wooyoung.
“What?” blurts out San. “How’d you find out?”
Wooyoung finds the alarm in the other’s voice highly amusing. “By accident. She wasn’t home yet when I came to visit, and her mom told me I could wait in her daughter’s bedroom, so I did—I left the door open as usual,” he adds the instant he sees the others’ scandalized expressions. “Anyway, I went to check her comic book collection because I had nothing else to do. Now, the bottom part of the bookshelf was a cabinet that I’d never seen her open before, and I saw that there was a piece of paper sticking out of it.”
“Why is this sounding more and more like a horror story?” asks Hongjoong warily.
“It does fit that genre,” remarks Yeosang.
“Go on, Wooyoung-ah,” says San with an encouraging nod.
“I really wanted to ignore the paper,” continues Wooyoung, “but curiosity got the better of me, so I pulled it out. It was a photo of me laughing with my friends at the mall. While that sounds completely fine, you should know that the photo had been taken two years before I met her, and I was able to determine that because that was the time I fell down the stairs in the house, and I had a large bruise on my right cheek…just like in the picture.”
Yunho and Mingi visibly shudder, Seonghwa and Hongjoong grimace, and Jongho’s jaw drops.
San, on the other hand, has nothing but worry in his features. “Y-you opened the cabinet?” he asks.
“I did,” says Wooyoung, triggering gasps all around. “There were photos upon photos of me doing all sorts of things, like eating with my family in a restaurant, playing sports with my classmates, walking home from school. And while most of them were taken as far back as three years prior, some were recent, as in they were shot during the time we were friends and even when we’d already gotten together.”
“That’s freaking wild,” remarks Mingi under his breath.
“That was the final straw for me. I was ready to overlook her past stalking behavior, but the fact that she was still following me around when I was already her boyfriend turned me off and scared the shit out of me, so I left her a note, ran out of there, and never talked to her again. I told my parents and brother about it, so my ex and her mom stopped visiting us completely.”
“Did she ever try to contact you?” asks Jongho.
“Fortunately, no,” answers Wooyoung. “When I thought about the whole thing afterward, I realized that the only reason we matched in many ways was because she’d taken the time to find out everything about me and used that information to win my affection. It was pretty smart of her, but it meant that I’d been dating a complete stranger.”
When Yeosang puts an arm around him, Jongho does the same, and the others follow suit to give him a group hug in response to his story.
Since San is the last one to move, he has no idea where he should insert himself in the embrace. Upon spotting his friend, Wooyoung manages to find enough space between Mingi’s and Yunho’s bodies to put out his left arm, and San is more than eager to take the other’s hand with an impossibly bright smile on his face. Wooyoung then pulls him to the pile of boys, some groaning in discomfort and the others snickering through the ordeal. San ends up mostly piggybacking Yunho while his fingers remain intertwined with Wooyoung’s.
“Don’t worry, Wooyoung-ah, ‘coz now you have seven real, non-stalker boyfriends to date forever!” declares Yunho, his words laced with laughter. Everyone cheers in agreement.
Wooyoung’s heart is a balloon inflated with elation almost to the point of bursting.
Once snack time’s over, each of them goes back to their previous activity, with Hongjoong heading to the studio (what else is new?), Yunho and Mingi going to the gym, and the rest staying put in the dorm. Wooyoung transfers to the kitchen to check the refrigerator so he can figure out what to fix for dinner. There’s pork and silken tofu, so maybe sundubu jjigae? Or he could go for dakgangjeong since the chicken is calling out to him as well. Both would probably be better considering he has eight mouths—including his—to feed.
He’s so absorbed in weighing his options that he doesn’t become aware of and acknowledge San’s presence beside him until he feels the other’s hand lightly grasp his upper arm.
“I’ll protect you, Wooyoung-ah,” says San.
“Huh?” goes Wooyoung, the context of the statement overtaken by all the recipes flashing in his mind.
“From stalkers and evil people and anyone who intends to harm you,” clarifies San in a determined voice. “I’ll even fight your next horrible ex if you get another one someday.”
Wooyoung feels the epicenter of his chest cave in when the implications of his friend’s words hit him. Although he should be happy about San expressing how much he cares about him, Wooyoung can’t shake off how San has dismissed the remote possibility of…of…
Never mind.
“I’m hoping that the next one’s gonna be a keeper,” he says, “but thank you for volunteering to be my knight in shorts printed with tiny croissants, San-ah.”
“I’ll bulk up, too!” announces San, his enthusiasm startling Wooyoung. “I’ll gain enough strength to defend you from anything!”
Wooyoung partially hides his goofy smile behind a loose fist while observing the other flex his close-to-nonexistent biceps. A helpless moth drawn to a dazzling flame, he approaches San, embraces him around the waist, and presses a firm, three-second kiss on his closed right eyelid and gives him a peck on the tip of his nose.
“That’s the first eyeball kiss I’ve ever gotten,” giggles San, color rising in his cheeks.
“And it won’t be the last,” coos Wooyoung. “Hey, are you going to be my sous chef tonight?”
San perks up at that. “I might set something on fire, but okay!”
In a far better mood, Wooyoung decides to go with two main dishes, soup, and rice. He instructs San on what to do with the ingredients and keeps a close watch on him despite having his own tasks. As he’s coating precut pieces of chicken with seasoning and potato starch, his consciousness tugs him back to thoughts of the future, of the whirlpool of emotions within him that he’s sure would grow into a maelstrom over time. He’s unsure if he should tread water as hard as he can, fight the current, and aim for the sandy shore he can still see from his vantage point.
“Are these thin enough?” asks San, referring to the radish he’s cutting for the stock.
Wooyoung looks at the sliced vegetables on the cutting board and nods weakly, still half lost in his musings. What revives him is San’s hand massaging the back of his neck.
“Stay with me, chef,” says San, something akin to fondness softening his gaze. “This kitchen won’t survive without you. Neither will I.”
Cognizant of his heartbeat quickening, Wooyoung ignores the remark and does his best to keep his voice steady when he says, “Hurry up ‘coz we have a lot of ingredients to prepare before we can even start cooking.”
“Oh right. My bad.” San moves on to the next chunk of radish, his razor-sharp concentration making up for his subpar knife skills.
It’s then that Wooyoung realizes there’s no use wasting energy trying to get away from the eye of the vortex. He might thrash in the water and have saltwater rush into his lungs, but if he can come out of the other side alive, he knows San will be there waiting for him, ready to offer the heat off of his own body and reassuring words of you’re here, you’ve made it, you’re safe and loved. And if he doesn’t make it… Well, he doesn’t want to think about that right now.
Not when San’s grinning at him again with the resplendence of a sunset just because they’ve made accidental eye contact.
Not when the faint scent of the other’s shampoo is enough to trigger memories of close proximity and late-night whispers and spontaneous affection.
Not when the boy next to him is everything his ex could only pretend to be for the sake of making him fall for her.
So Wooyoung relaxes and allows himself to be pulled in. The sky above twists and turns with him, and soon he hears nothing save for the deafening roar and rush of the water about to swallow him whole.
He takes one last breath before plunging into the cold darkness.