Chapter Text
The first time Soobin gets his heart broken, he passes out. And not in the hyperbolic, metaphorical sense of the phrase, mind you, but he quite literally—to put it in blunt, clinical terms—loses consciousness.
He feels his knees buckle and his weight give in as he watches his sunbae turned hyung turned boyfriend—his dear, sweet, lovely Changmin—pull the trigger, point-blank to his face.
"You and I need to stop seeing each other."
Bang. His ears ring at the sound of gunshots.
The words float around in his head for what seems like an eternity, as if his boyfriend—his ex now, he supposes, the new label stinging his mouth like poison—was speaking in another language, and it was his raison d'etre to decipher it. Word by bloody word. Syllable by piercing syllable. Letter by excruciating letter.
“You and I…” Not we, not us.
“…need to…” Not want, not should, not might.
“…stop…” Not pause, not take a break.
No intonation at the end meant no questions being asked. Just a cruel little period, marking the finality of it all. For a moment he manages to feel like the world's most renowned linguist. His specialty? The phonology of breakups.
The last thing he remembers before his vision goes completely black is the familiar yet now strange figure letting out a loud gasp as it runs toward him, though from his point of view it registers more like an assassin cocking their gun before checking to confirm whether the hit was a success or not.
And boy, the absolute bullseye of a hit it was.
The second time Soobin gets his heart broken, it plays out in pretty much the exact same way. There are two important distinctions to make, though: (1) he’s alone in his room and his ex is only there in the traumatic, metaphorical sense—in reality he hasn’t seen or heard from him in what feels like ages; and (2) he doesn’t pass out, but he does have trouble breathing, starts sweating bullets, and is somehow convinced that he’s on the verge of dying—the clinical signs of an anxiety attack, basically.
So by the third time it happens, which is unfortunately during the hell that is finals week when he’d already done poorly on his spring midterm exams, he decides that he’s had enough and asks his family about the possibility of letting him see a therapist. His parents appear amicable enough, to the extent that they felt that it would help him get back on his feet academically, that is; thankfully his older brother and sister seem a bit more sympathetic to his plight.
However, he does conveniently leave out the part clarifying that this problem of his might have (or probably, most likely) originated from a recent breakup, since including that little tidbit would open a whole other can of worms—that he’s gay, and oh, that friendly & helpful hyung he hangs out with almost every day? Yeah, he likes boys too apparently, and they’ve actually been dating secretly for two years behind everyone’s backs—which he would rather not get into. At least not until he’s certain enough that he’s entirely moved on and can thus (hopefully) properly explain everything to his family.
Which is why he never manages to completely open up during talk therapy. While the sessions with his psychiatrist—Dr. Bang, who is nice enough, at least by Soobin’s standards—over the summer have helped ease most of the symptoms, he still hasn’t been able to actually talk and have any meaningful conversations (i.e. activities that would actually benefit him in the process of navigating through his pain better) about The Ex and The Incident (i.e. the two main reasons as to why he’s even here in this bespectacled man’s office—wooden floors, velvet couch, cream curtains, the sound of pen on paper—in the first place) during them.
Despite being aware of the code of confidentiality all doctors are supposedly sworn to uphold, and hey, it’s not like he finds Dr. Bang totally unworthy of his trust or anything (god knows the other stuff he’s been able to talk to him about), Soobin’s still a bit too cautious to vulnerably expose himself in front of someone who is essentially a stranger, someone his parents pay to listen to and babysit him while he drones about life (and not love, that’s important to note—thankfully he has someone else for that) for an hour or so.
“Well, seems like our hour is up, Soobin. Good exchange today, don’t you think?” Dr. Bang gives him a warm smile and the most professional yet comforting pat on the back.
Soobin glances at the quaint digital clock on the wall behind him; it stares back at him with its blue light blinking 5:33 PM, a signal that the session is over (as if the words our hour’s up didn’t make it clear enough). Not a second passes by, however, and Soobin has already forgotten whatever was talked about today. He cycles through the topics they usually go over in his brain, trying his best to recall if the flavor of the day was (a) the fact that he ended up blowing his final exams so horribly that he ultimately had to drop out of the program and even transfer schools in the middle of the year, which in retrospect may not be so bad considering he was attending the same school as The Ex, (b) the pressures of being the only non-STEM major in a family of medicine and engineering graduates, or (c)—
Before Dr. Bang can notice him spacing out, Soobin gets a hold of his derailed train of thought and answers the man with a few curt nods (maybe one too many) and an appropriate grin, leaving his dimples on full display, as if to say Yeah, I mean I don’t remember what it is exactly that we talked about today but sure, it was probably good. Pleasant. Like always. I think.
“We won’t be having any regular sessions after this, right?” Dr. Bang aptly reminds him, in such a notably precise tone that it practically screams Oh, don’t worry, I definitely noticed that you weren’t paying much attention today so I’d take it upon myself, as your ever-reliable doc, to guide you back to earth.
Soobin is effectively transported back to reality as he realizes that summer is almost over; his therapy schedule shifting from weekly visits to appointments being testament to that. It also means that it’s been five months since his first brush with death—in the metaphorical sense, of course (or not?).
He shakes his head in a failed attempt to stop himself from recounting the exact number of days, because who the hell is keeping track, anyway? Not him. Nope.
Soobin gets his messenger bag from the couch and turns around for one last goodbye before he heads home, “See you when I need you, doc.”
Which might still be regularly. Depends on how well the new school does for him, that is.
“All the best, Soobin. Don’t forget the things we’ve discussed and practiced, okay? And make good use of those playlists you curated!” Dr. Bang leads him out the front door of his office and gives him one last reassuring tap on the shoulder.
Ah yes, the playlists. How could Soobin forget? It’s not like he hasn’t been listening to those playlists that playlist—in the singular form—practically every day for the entire summer as his choice form of ‘music therapy’ (read: exposure therapy). It’s become a daily habit now, muscle memory committed to the tapping of his phone to input his passkey > open Spotify > go to the Your Library section > select the playlist labeled ‘queue’ —in that exact order. It’s as easy as breathing, not that Soobin wasn’t having any trouble with that, either.
He finally succeeds in connecting his Bluetooth earphones to his phone after the nth try and proceeds to prop himself against the stop sign pole, humming along softly to the somber song he’s listening to as the sun sets above and beyond him.
»» 🐰 ««
“Hyung! I’m back!”
Soobin barely has enough time to turn his swivel chair around to greet the returnee when two arms engulf him from behind, putting him in an innocent chokehold that’s so eager that it somehow borders on becoming, quite frankly, dangerous. It never does cross that line, though, as Soobin has discovered many times before.
The animated voice of a kid who’s come home after a long time away reverberates in the small bedroom, “Guess who?!” His hands clumsily shuffle to cover the Soobin’s still half-asleep eyes. They’re warm, Soobin thinks.
“Hmm,” Soobin feigns ignorance. “Could it be my favorite dongsaeng…” he drags the following name for an agonizing second, “Sunghoonie?” He laughs as he feels the once eager hands go from covering his face to falling and resting on his shoulders. He is a bit startled, however, once he feels their strong grip as he is spun around to the direction behind him. He glances up, and blinks twice before taking a good look at the familiar face in front of him. He already knew who it was from the start, though he makes the effort of acting surprised, much to the younger boy’s apparent chagrin.
Soobin smiles and scrunches his nose, then stands up and exclaims, “Kai! Of course it’s you. How could hyung ever forget?” He pulls him in for a hug, but not before taking in… whatever the product of spending the entire summer in L.A. is.
Huening Kai Kamal, Soobin’s actual favorite dongsaeng, has noticeably gotten taller over the summer break (did he just coincidentally hit his growth spurt while in the States?) and now sports blushing tan skin and a head of golden hair. Soobin can’t help but automatically play Poppy’s Bleach Blonde Baby in his mind, a welcome change from the trite twelve or so songs he’s been embarrassingly listening to on repeat for the past few days. Or weeks. Months. Heck, could be years if this keeps up.
As his thoughts waver he realizes that the welcome back hug he’s been offering still hasn’t been reciprocated. That’s unusual.
Kai, in a rare show of defiance, rejects the offer and instead pushes back, crossing his arms as he asks, “Sunghoonie, huh? Sorry to disappoint that it’s only me, Soobin-hyung.” The façade doesn’t last, though, because after what seems like a nanosecond of pretend-frowning he practically falls into his hyung’s arms. They exchange a barrage of I missed you (so much)s and How have you been (without me)s before finally settling down on Soobin’s bed, a familiar place for both of them… and for someone else, although Soobin tries not to dwell on who that certain ‘someone else’ is. Right now, it’s just them—two 180cm plus college students, one brunet, one blond—in this small bedroom on the second floor of some house in Seongbuk District, Seoul.
“Who is Sunghoon, anyway?” Kai turns his head and asks, a bit hazily.
Soobin is a little floored by the question. Did Kai really take his slight teasing earlier to heart? He answers as casually as he can, “The kid I worked with at the convenience store for the summer, remember? The one I told you about, the figure skater.”
Kai’s eyes slowly widen with recognition, “I remember now. I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned his name in our chats, though.”
“Oh, I didn’t? My bad, then,” Soobin says. “Why? Want me to introduce him to you?” He giggles as he tickles Kai’s shoulder.
“Shut up,” Kai scoffs as he gently nudges Soobin.
A short silence follows, but Soobin clears his throat to break it. “Damn, look at you, though! You look so…” he trails off.
“Handsome? Rugged? Hot?” Kai strikes a pose for each adjective he blurts out, each as cringe-inducing as the next. He even manages to include a wink in there somehow.
Soobin relents, “Well, you read my mind. You’re all three, but most of all you’re cute.” He puts an arm around Kai’s shoulder and ruffles his hair, “Ah, our Hyuka, all grown up… starting his second semester of college in two weeks!”
“Yeah, though I still can’t believe that you’ll be in the same campus this time,” Kai says with excitement, although the air becomes tinted with regret once he realizes what he just brought up.
Soobin had ended up transferring from the prestigious Hanyang University to Konkuk University, where Kai attends as a first year taking up music education. Had certain things not happened (had certain words not been said), Soobin would presumably still be toiling away at his problem sets, another Choi engineer in the making. His parents cried for days when he told them that he had decided to pursue a degree in philosophy, maybe even more than they did when he got accepted to Hanyang. Fortunately group family therapy sessions have helped a little in mitigating their extreme disappointment, although Soobin can’t say the same for the other regrets in his life.
He hesitates to completely uncover the ugly elephant rearing its trunk in the room, but proceeds to poke it out of its hiding place anyway. “I guess that breakup did do some good after all, huh? Now we get to attend college parties together,” he tells Kai, hoping that joking about it might make him feel better. It doesn’t.
Kai stays quiet and gives him a tentative smile, although this too quickly fades when he drops his eyes and asks, warily choosing his words, “So, uh, hyung… how has it been?”
Soobin knows exactly where this is going—which is exactly the direction he doesn’t want it to—although it’s probably his fault anyway for directly mentioning it. He mentally gives himself a face palm and looks up at the ceiling, as if the answer is written there somewhere.
“S’okay, I guess. I dunno.”
“You… you told me over video call that you talked to him, right?” Kai continues.
I don’t know if you could call whatever happened at the start of the summer as talking, but I guess you could, if you count a constant stream of tears and apologies and unsaid feelings as just that, Soobin thinks.
“Words were exchanged, yes,” Soobin instead says. “Some bad, some good. All of them… painful,” he adds.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kai prods.
Soobin considers for a moment, but ultimately decides against it, “No, I don’t think so. Not now, not yet.”
Kai looks at him in understanding and purses his lips; obviously trying to think of something—anything—uplifting to say to revitalize the atmosphere.
Soobin notices Kai’s pensive expression and takes the initiative to change the subject, “But wow, how’d you get your hair looking like that?”
“Oh,” Kai takes the cue, “I actually had it bleached at a salon there. Does it look okay, hyung?”
Soobin reassures his dongsaeng, “It looks awesome. It suits you well, Kai-yah.”
Kai’s eyes widen with relief. “Really? I’m glad...”
“…but you should see how Lea-noona and Yyih look like! They could probably pass off as, like, real idols with the colors they chose to go with,” Kai gesticulates proudly, despite colors carrying no need to be described through the erratic movement of teenage hands. It’s simply how he acts when he’s the slightest bit thrilled about something, and Soobin adores him for it.
“Oh shoot, one sec,” Soobin jumps out of the bed and heads to his closet, where he retrieves a paper bag adorned with colorful shapes. “Belated happy birthday, Hyuka,” he extends both arms.
Kai gasps and almost trips while standing up a bit too eagerly to snatch his gift from Soobin’s hands. He opens it to find a yellow dolphin plushie, his succeeding squeal giving away his appreciation like an open book. He squishes his new stuffed toy a few times before hugging it, the dolphin looking so small in his long arms. He stares at it for a while then proceeds to offer Soobin a sweet smile. “Thanks a lot, hyung. I’m still a bit bummed I wasn’t able to head back home in time for us to celebrate my birthday, though,” he admits.
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Soobin gives Kai a gentle push of the shoulder, “Plenty of other birthdays in the future.”
Kai gives him another smile, although this too is quickly replaced by an eye roll when Soobin asks the following question:
“Anyway, now what about my souvenir from L.A.? A chip from the Hollywood sign, perhaps?”
»» 🐰 ««
Soobin taps the newly-placed bobble head toy on his shelf—an anthropomorphic gray rabbit with a jungle-themed surfboard next to it—with his index finger, carefully watching its face as it bounces from side to side. He glances at the small bottle next to it—filled with white sand and a couple of tiny peach and white seashells—and imagines Kai walking on the many beaches of Los Angeles, thoughtfully inspecting each shell he comes across, before placing them inside the glass vessel with a satisfied grin.
“I just gathered the prettiest ones I could find,” Kai said earlier. “Oh, and this cutie ~ It reminded me of you a lot, so I got it from the souvenir shop! … And they said that these cookies were pretty popular, too. I’ve already given the other boxes to your fam before I came in so I’ll hand this one to you,” he added.
It’s been a good hour or so since Kai went back home, but the boy’s voice still lingers in the tiny confines of Soobin’s room.
He grabs the solemn box of cookies patiently lying on his desk. He admires its packaging—complete with a fancy ribbon and all—for a moment, then opens it to find an assortment of a dozen palm tree-shaped (or at least he hopes they're palm trees) cookies, each of a different flavor. Cute, he thinks. Let’s see if you taste as cute as you look. He bites the first cookie that catches his attention: one dipped in green frosting, probably matcha? Not bad. He purses his lips and nods his head in approval. “Actually pretty good,” he says out loud. He goes through four more—chocolate, coffee, pineapple macadamia, and guava—and saves the rest for later. He heads for his phone to dutifully send the results of the taste test to Kai.
soobinie-hyung ₍ᐢ ̥ ̞ ̥ᐢ₎ ♡
(8:32 PM)
« so… i tasted the cookies and ended up eating half of the box already lol
« they’re so good!! tnx again
After a minute he decides to send another line.
(8:33 PM)
« like, not just for the souvenirs. just… for coming here, for everything
He puts his phone down to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth. It doesn’t take long until Soobin hears his phone ping, though.
hyuka
(8:35 PM)
» i’m so glad you like them, hyung~
» pfft, ur such a softie. it’s nothing >///<
» btw, don’t forget about our snack date tomorrow. i have something important to tell you.
Soobin pauses—toothbrush barely hanging onto his agape mouth—and tilts his head. He considers asking if Kai could just tell him over chat, but figures that it must be really important if it warrants an in-person conversation over tteokbokki.
soobinie-hyung ₍ᐢ ̥ ̞ ̥ᐢ₎ ♡
(8:37 PM)
« of course i won’t.
« good night, hyukaahyuka
(8:38 PM)
» good night hyung! sweet dreams >3<
Soobin smiles at the sight of the familiar emoticon—really just a Kai watermark at this point—and immediately switches from his KakaoTalk to the green icon on his app list that he’s grown so accustomed to for the past two months. He scrolls through the home tab, the words ‘Good Evening’ in bold white greeting him—the ‘Jump Back In’ catalog just below it.
His thumb just about selects that playlist again, but this time he stops and hovers above it for a while.
He takes a deep breath. Two. Three.
He switches his phone-holding hand with his tooth-brushing one. Once. Twice.
He shoves his phone inside the bedside drawer, heads to the sink to spit the mint out of his mouth, and looks at his reflection in the mirror. Not today, he mouths to himself—tired, puffy eyes staring back at him.
He crawls back to bed and buries his face into his pillow, allowing himself to drift to sleep.
»» 🐰 ««
The next afternoon, Soobin and Kai meet at their favorite street food stall at the corner of their street, ordering their usual combo of tteokbokki and cola. They spend the first few minutes talking about inconsequential things, like what subjects they were taking for the fall semester, and if they were planning on joining any extracurricular orgs.
After a few bites, Kai places his serving of tteokbokki down on the counter and reaches for his pocket to grab his phone, “Hyung, Iet me show you something.” He has a serious look on his face—albeit tinged with what seems to either be excitement or nervousness—while scrolling through his phone.
Soobin braces himself. This must be the really important thing Kai was talking about.
“Ta-da!” Kai gestures to his phone with palms out and fingers splayed—his most impressive show of jazz hands yet, the biggest theatrical grin on his face.
Soobin momentarily pauses from devouring his snack. He takes a few sips of cola before narrowing his eyes to take a look at the screen presented in front of him. He’s still gulping down as he tries to make sense of whatever it is that Kai’s showing him so enthusiastically.
He sees a conversation on KakaoTalk displaying a single message from a user named ‘B’—quite unlike how Kai usually saves his contact names (read: a cute rendition of the person’s name followed by any necessary honorifics plus at least one emoji)—containing an address in a part of Dongjak he’s not privy to. He doesn’t go out often (even less than before), and when he does it’s never to that part of the city.
“Hyuka, I think you’re showing me the wrong thing.” He assumes that Kai meant to show him another meme he found online, or maybe a photo of a cute dog or cat, and not whatever this could be. It wouldn’t be completely out of character for Kai to deem something like that as really important.
Kai mouths a small oh and flips his phone to check; he clicks his tongue, his expression confirming that this screen is indeed what he intends to show Soobin.
“No, this is right,” he says matter-of-factly with a nod.
“Okay, so what is it exactly, then?”
The next sentence Kai utters just about results in Soobin choking on his penultimate piece of tteokbokki.
“Hyung, I finally know how you can get over Changmin-hyung,” Kai proclaims, his voice sticky with determination and idealism.
The intense sputtering that follows in response sends Kai into a panicked frenzy.
Even the stall owner, Mrs. Kim, is startled and begins to shuffle toward the pair’s spot when she hears what she initially assumes are the sounds of a dying dog choking on the food that she prepared; so naturally she doesn’t know if she should be offended or worried, though she settles for both in the end.
She hands Soobin a cup of water, “Was is too spicy?”
Soobin accepts the cup with a tip of the head and gulps down the water with full force, releasing a few more coughs before confirming that yes, his lungs are indeed working and he is able to breathe. “Thank you, sorry for the bother.”
Maybe the tteokbokki was too spicy, or maybe Soobin was just a bit too startled to hear Kai say the name of The Ex so openly, considering how timid he had looked bringing him up just the day before. But he guesses it’s because yesterday was supposed to be a day of celebration since they hadn’t seen each other in so long, but now that it’s been (barely) a day Kai’s ready to get back to business—namely to help his favorite hyung overcome the menace that is The Post-breakup.
Soobin kind of wishes Kai could’ve given him a bit more time to breathe, although he can’t help but think that his dongsaeng has always been like that—expressive yet considerate, straightforward yet thoughtful. And Soobin can’t fault him for it, really; he considers it one of his strong points.
Besides, it’s not like this is the first time he’s said those nearly-verbatim words to Soobin (and it probably won’t be the last).
The first instance came in the form of a hopeful then-brunet waiting outside Soobin’s bedroom door, plastic bag of water AKA temporary housing of a little blue betta in tow.
“I read online that having a pet to look after can actually help build a profound sense of responsibility and feeling of purpose! And since your family is allergic to animal fur, I thought a fish would be a nice alternative. Little Blue, meet Soobin-hyung! Soobin-hyung, say hi to Little Blue—name subject to change at your own discretion, of course.”
The second instance came in the form of body pains and emptied wallets, all in search of the most effective hobby AKA distraction.
“How about we try tennis next, hyung?”
“You and I both know that we’re terrible at sports, Kai.”
“Crochet it is!”
The third came in the form of a string of Tinder dates AKA pitiful attempts at rebound flings, ranging from the mildly awkward to the dangerously uncomfortable.
“So… how was it?”
“First red flag: one glance and I knew that he was, in fact—contrary to his very convincing Tinder bio—not nineteen years old. Second—and I have no clue why I didn’t bail as soon as I saw him because I definitely should have, but hey, hindsight is 20/20: he spent the entire twenty minutes of our ‘date’ talking to me about some company I’ve never even heard of—‘Beat Heat Music,’ was it?—that he was employed at (again, definitely not nineteen), and how I would be the perfect visual for the latest boy group they had in the works—the exact name escaping me right now because it was so damn long and complicated—who are, and I quote, ‘set to become the game-changing leaders of the fourth generation of K-pop.’ And third, which is probably the most matador-red of all red flags: he made me pay for half the meal when he (a) clearly lied about everything on his profile, and (b) was a full-grown working adult who had the means to pay for both of us!”
“Unless Beat Heat, like, gives them scraps or something.”
“We ate at Yummy’n Rummyn AKA the cheapest ramen shop in downtown Gangnam.”
“Point taken, hyung. Sorry you had to go through all that.”
The fourth and latest in this (apparently ongoing) installation of instances was suggested just before Kai headed to the States, though it was easily dismissed as out of the question that time.
“Maybe you should just try talking to him, you know, for closure or whatever.”
“Nope. Not ready.”
It took a week tops for Soobin to eat his own words as he ended up doing just that, his readiness or lack thereof notwithstanding.
Kai doesn’t know how much of a disaster that was, though. At least not yet.
“Hyung, are you sure you’re okay?” Kai gives Soobin a few more apologetic pats on the back.
Soobin is snapped back to reality, and promptly waves his hand to signal that he’s fine now. “Sorry, er, déjà vu… but I did hear you, loud and clear. And as your kind and considerate hyung, I’ll listen again this time, but if it involves any more pets, obscure hobbies, or—” he makes a gagging sound, “—dates, I’m out.”
He takes the last piece of tteokbokki to his mouth, mindful to avoid eye contact with Kai for fear of his dongsaeng’s innate charms convincing him to go ahead with the plan even before he hears a lick of it.
Kai lightly blows air into one of his cheeks before meekly scratching the other with his finger.
“What?” Soobin asks, a bit frantic. “Don’t tell me it involves all three this time?”
Kai brings up one hesitant finger, “Just one.”
“What animal or new craft is it this time?” Soobin is still hopeful that it’s not idea #3.
Kai shakes his head in response, “Nope, no animals or crafts.”
Soobin brings his hands to his face, rubbing distressed circles over his eyes. “Hyuka, I really, really don’t want to go on any more dates.” He moves his fingers to allow one pleading eye to peek through his hands, “I already have an entire box filled with industry business cards from—” he rolls his eyes, “talent scouts, I really am good now.” He robotically nods his head as proof.
Kai immediately interjects, “But hyung! This time it’s—” he looks around a bit, then puts a hand over the side of his face before continuing “—fake dating.”
“Fake dating?” Soobin raises an eyebrow.
Kai, probably noticing that Soobin seems a lot more confused (which he reads as intrigued) now, continues his product spiel—one he probably practiced in his head all night, no doubt.
“Yeah! You know, like a pretend relationship? Like in ‘All the Boys I've Loved Before?’”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Soobin tries to recall where he’s heard or seen that vaguely familiar title before, but ultimately fails in jogging his own memory.
Kai feigns offence with a gasp. “Hyung, didn’t you say you’ve almost finished Netflix’s entire movie list? That one’s super popular!”
“Yeah, but you know I never touch the romance section.” Soobin argues.
“Well, anyway,” Kai’s voice lowers to a barely-audible whisper. “So I heard from a friend of a friend about this guy who goes to Chung-Ang, right? Apparently he runs this super-secret, super-professional fake dating business, where you pay him to pretend to be in a relationship with you. They operate strictly on a referral basis, so they don’t just take in anyone. But I was able to get us in—thank me later. And you know what else? They have this 100% Satisfaction Guarantee.”
Soobin is slightly taken aback at the concept of paying someone to fake date you. At being thankful for the fact that Kai wants them to pay someone to fake date him. “Uhm, why would anyone want to do that?”
Kai answers, “Well, some people are lonely…”
“I am not lonely!” Soobin answers defensively.
“Of course you’re not lonely, hyung. I was just saying that as an example. I mean, you asked, so I answered.” Kai scratches his nape in response.
“Besides, isn’t that… kind of like—” this time it’s Soobin who whispers, his ears dyed in soft pink as he asks, “—hiring an escort or something?”
This time it’s Kai who nearly chokes on the cola he’s drinking. He also almost spits it out, but thankfully the liquid only ends up trickling down his chin. He meekly bows in gratitude as a once-again concerned Mrs. Kim hands him a small batch of paper napkins. Soobin wonders how long it would take until Mrs. Kim finally asks us to leave; he counts this as strike two.
Kai wipes his mouth before clearing his throat, tone clarifying, “Hyung, I would never get us roped up in something like that.”
Soobin nods his head, relieved. He still has a few more questions in line, though, so he pursues further.
“Even so, how does something like that stay secret, anyway? In this day and age of SNS where every little thing is broadcast for all the world to see?” Soobin puts up fingers while listing different sites and apps such as Instagram and Facebook.
“Well, it’s not like you’re a stranger to keeping things on the…” Kai struggles looking for the appropriate word, “low-key?”
He meant to say down-low, Soobin thinks. Still, low-key works well enough, though he wouldn’t have minded if Kai just spared him the euphemisms, either—describe the relationship as it was: secret, hidden; and as it is: over, finished. He keeps quiet.
Kai continues, “It seems that he’s very adamant about not dating anyone from his campus. I heard that he even dated some girl from Daejeon. And it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill long-distance social media and KaoTalk relationship, either. He actually traveled all the way to her house to meet her family and stuff. Now that's what I'd call dedication!”
“Seriously? His reach is that far?” Soobin can’t help but be impressed with this person’s dedication, and he doesn’t even know his name nor has he seen his face yet.
“Like I told you, super-secret and super-professional.” Kai concludes.
But Soobin is still not completely convinced, especially with Kai mentioning that this person dated a girl. “I don’t know, Kai. Do you know if this dude has even, uhm, dated people like me?”
Kai looks perplexed. “People like you? What do you mean people like you, hyung?”
“You know,” Soobin dramatically motions to point at himself, “guys.”
“Oh, I did ask that beforehand, don’t worry. And I’ve confirmed that this guy’s open to accepting anyone, regardless of gender.”
Soobin thinks of how that doesn’t necessarily mean a yes to his question, and he’s about to argue just that when Kai interjects.
“So… are you up for it?” He looks hopeful, his hands clasped together under his chin.
Soobin looks at Kai and his entire Post-breakup Life flashes before his eyes—the rehomed fish, the abandoned crochet projects, and the never-made-it-to-the-second-date Tinder matches, not to mention the failed attempt at closure—and he just knows that it’s in good judgement to refuse this time, but somehow his brain cells stop functioning when Kai is in front of him like this, looking so eager and optimistic and perhaps even onto something.
So he gives in.
A shrill yelp of excitement and a hug follows, “Thank god. And here I was thinking that I had to use my trump card on you.”
“Oh, and what would that be, exactly?” Soobin asks.
Kai makes a show of pulling away from the hug to tell him, “Oh, nothing. Just that my very, very reliable sources informed me that this guy is very, very cute.” He chuckles as Soobin scoffs and rolls his eyes.
And they walk home just like that, with Kai looking forward to the ordeal, speaking so positively and animatedly that you’d think he was already congratulating Soobin for successfully getting over The Ex, despite this plan only being another beginning in a new series of beginnings.