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“You’re glaring again.”
The clanking of cutlery against pottery and the plastic of a tray snapped Seoho out of his thoughts and he glanced up to see Keonhee slouch down on the chair across from him.
“I’m not glaring,” Seoho protested and put his fork down to stop himself from picking at his food any longer. Keonhee raised an eyebrow in a disbelieving matter and twisted his torso so as to look over his shoulder to verify and proof his suspicion who Seoho’s glare was directed to, spotting the broad shoulders and the bleached back of the head of no one less than Kim Geonhak.
“Yes you were, in fact, trying to shoot daggers or at least lasers from your eyes right into his neck,” Keonhee chuckled and went back to adopting a proper sitting pose.
“I know you’re kind of out of sorts with Geonhak, but did something happen that I should know of?” He then asked with something more akin to care in his voice.
For a moment, Seoho pondered on whether Keonhee would laugh at him for his reasoning or let the issue go without prying further, and decided that it didn’t matter anyhow because Keonhee had told him more than once that he repeatedly failed to understand why Seoho was holding a grudge against Geonhak.
“His team won the contest yesterday,” Seoho stated, the death glare he was making sure to engrave in Geonhak’s neck not quite matching his neutral tone.
“I thought they sucked?” the younger asked with the slightest bit of surprise colouring his tone – and was that admiration in his voice?
“That’s exactly my point!” Seoho agreed in exasperation and threw his hands up. Without delay, he felt inquisitive heads of several students turn towards the two of them which is why Seoho propped his elbows on the table and leaned further to Keonhee, trying to pull himself together since his whispering felt as loud as though he was yelling.
“I just don’t understand how they became this… decent within such short time,” Seoho whined, “last year, even before this kid came to our school, he was the only one who seemed to know what he was doing and stood out. We beat them with ease!”
“So you’re admitting that he’s good,” Keonhee teased with a smirk and watched as Seoho’s jaw metaphorically dropped.
“that’s not-… all I’m saying that he was the only element that kept his group from looking utterly miserable.” Seoho held the fork he had picked up again in front of Keonhee’s face as though in a warning as his pout intensified.
“You’re telling me that you’re grumpy because his team improved and won over the jury?” the younger shook his head and visibly suppressed a mischievous laugh.
“I don’t like him because he’s an arrogant brat!” Seoho hissed, his resentment devolving upon Keonhee now too, as the younger was cackling devoid of shame.
“Have you ever had a proper conversation with him?” Keonhee tossed in, half-expecting an answer, half-leaving it out in the air as rhetorical question that he most definitely knew the answer to.
“Whatever,” Seoho attested to what Keonhee was implying; though, unconvinced to try and change the way he was thinking about Geonhak, especially as he was sure the peeve was mutual.
⠀
Seoho knew that at times, he could get a tad too competitive for his own good, but Geonhak had challenged and provoked him from the very first time they had come across each other a little over a year ago, and that was what was getting on Seoho’s nerves.
That and the fact that after the announcement of the groups’ overall ranking, it hadn’t been one of the names of Seoho’s group members that was called when the best dancer of the day was announced but Kim Geonhak – amongst the messy limbs and movements that were his group – because it seemed to not be as unskillful and blotchy anymore, – he had stood out the most to the jury and Seoho thought that it was unfair and insulting.
And just as Seoho had overcome this impeccable kind of disgrace, it was Geonhak who he was suddenly laying eyes on the first day of school when he had walked into science class, and it was him again, quietly leaning against a nearby mirror and waiting for their dance teacher to arrive because apparently, he had chosen dance as supplementary subject, and Seoho wanted to scream.
Spending hours with him in the same room and parenthetically witnessing how the fair head remained so reserved in his conceit and sponged up the praise that he was getting because he was the new kid, gifted and talented and so ahead of everyone, it made Seoho want to puke, hadn’t been enough of a punishment from the universe, it seemed.
Annual competitions had been just around the corner, and Seoho and his contest group had committed fully to perfecting their choreography and risking sweat and tears for it to be aesthetically pleasing and noteworthy to look at.
The fact that they hadn’t scored first place wasn’t what had upset Seoho, although they had delivered a flawless performance and gained a recognising round of applause.
It was also not the fact that Geonhak’s group had taken first place, having Seoho’s group come in a close second, because not even Seoho could protest that it was almost inspirational what game-changing progresses they had made as a group within less than a year.
However, Seoho hadn’t missed how Geonhak had let his eyes wander over the other groups, a proud twinkle radiating over the hall until their glances had met, and that was the final straw.
It had injured Seoho’s pride, yes – the mocking twist of his lips, a winner’s smile, as if their game and tease of outdoing each other whenever the tiniest opportunity came along had hereby ended and crowned Geonhak the winner.
⠀
“Cheer up, Seoho, I know these contests and rankings mean a lot to you, but there’ll be enough opportunities to proof who the better one out of the two of you is, if that’s what it’s all about,” Keonhee tried again, swallowing down the last sip out of his strawberry milk carton and shushing Seoho as the older was trying to object again, “plus, it’s Halloween and we have a party to attend.”
Seoho nodded, his lips twisting into a smile – right, the Halloween party.
“What are you dressing up as?” Keonhee was good at such things; cheering Seoho up, changing topics out of the blue and acting all proud and as though he had patterned the transition smoothly, mocking and laughing at Seoho and yet never failing to make him feel understood and cared for.
“Dracula I guess – although there’ll probably be no way of telling apart my costume from a regular vampire.” Seoho shrugged. “I don’t want to hear it. I know it’s lame.”
“Respectfully, it is lame. And on your face?” Keonhee asked instead, earning a puzzled expression from Seoho at which he sighed and spiritually declared Seoho past all hope.
“Seoho, have you read the invitation?”
“I did skim over the when and where,” he announced, a proud grin tugging at his lips, “and never looked at it again.”
“I can’t believe you,” the younger sighed as he stole a fry from Seoho’s plate, “either way, you’re supposed to cover your face and not take the mask off the entire night.”
Seoho scrunched up his face. “Seriously? What is this? A masquerade ball? I should have read the small print.”
“Hold up, it gets even better. I asked Dongju about it and he said that whoever is to take off their mask for whatever reason will have to face some kind of public torment. Do you know this funfair attraction where a person sits on a plank over a water basin, and next to it, there’s a target and if someone manages to hit the bull’s eye, the other person will fall into the water? Yeah… that kind of torment.”
Seoho knew that Dongju and Hwanwoong were somewhat of a chaos-duo, but that was an interestingly bizarre idea even by their standards – as much as Seoho had doubted the cliché-masquerade-ball-rail that they seemed to be hopping on, the consequence that Keonhee had just described seemed to awaken plenty of satiric nerve cells in the back of his mind, and he was dying to see someone be dipped in water all-clothed.
“I’ll figure something out.”
Perhaps he was thinking of a specific someone.
⠀
Seoho had no idea whether it was by lawful means that Dongju and Hwanwoong had tried their utmost and eventually managed to convince Youngjo to put his house at their disposal, but they had succeeded and the fete looked promising just by standing outside and hearing the thumping bass from two blocks away. Seoho almost felt pity for the trick-or-treating kids who were giving the decorated house a wide berth and even crossing the street so as to stay as far away as physically possible without missing the neighbour’s house for some more sweets.
Seoho put on the black mask that he had stressed his older sister about to rummage her closet for; it hugged his face like a butterfly with widespread wings, black with golden glitter highlights, reeking of years spent in the back of beyond his sister’s closet, but it would do.
As Seoho entered the on-going party, he remained astonished with how past all recognition the house looked – apart from the number of bodies moving within the enclosed space, Youngjo, Hwanwoong, and Dongju seemed to have put a lot of effort into hanging pictures off the walls, removing anything valuable and breakable from within reach, and even moving most of the furniture in locked rooms that had signs reading ‘do not enter’ attached to the doors.
I took only a moment of looking around before Seoho spotted Dongju sprawled out on a couch with a drink in hand and Youngjo by his side, laughing along something that the younger had just said. Although their faces were equally covered – which was a shame, really, because Dongju knew his make-up skills and for sure would have loved to work his magic and give the two of them a gorgeous look – Seoho easily spotted their colourful patches of hair, sprayed colour that would wash out the next time they would take a shower.
Seoho was relieved that they had communicated him who they would dress up as beforehand – Dongju as Harley Quinn and Youngjo as Choker because they wanted to unite a powerful duo – since walking and squeezing his way through the hallway and the living room, Seoho didn’t recognise any of the people that he was passing.
“Seoho, hi!” Dongju observed Seoho first and beckoned him over, “you missed Keonhee by no more than a second; no idea where he vanished.”
Seoho had trouble understanding the younger over the deafening music and the general murmur of people. “Yeah thanks, I think I’ll go get a drink first anyhow.”
Although Keonhee and Seoho had agreed to go to the party together, the older had already prepared himself for the usual procedure of fetching up somewhere in a quiet corner with the less wasted kids instead of keeping pace with Keonhee because the younger was that kind of social butterfly who derived his energy from meeting new people instead of hanging with his friends who, in Seoho’s case, tended to decline more than three strangers at once with thanks – no hard feelings, though, Seoho knew he could always join Keonhee and his new-found group of people; he just preferred not to.
Aside from loud, the space was also dimly lit and felt hot and stifling in so as Seoho’s throat quickly voiced first signs of thirst and demanded a drink outside of the sake of relaxing and letting himself go.
The upside of being familiar with the host’s house was definitely knowing where everything was and therefore promptly finding the kitchen where the counter had been turned into a snack bar and the fridge declared free real estate.
Just as Seoho was scooping the chemically pink punch into his cup, a person next to him made their presence felt, “nice costume.”
Taken aback, Seoho let his eyes wander over the man in front of him, black slicked-back hair, broad shoulders, the expected mask covering his face, and then he noticed.
“Oh, likewise,” Seoho chuckled and looked down on himself, and although their outfits weren’t exact copies of each other, it was impossible to miss that they both had had the same, unspectacular and boring idea. While red and golden highlights stood out on his own cloak, the other’s was a shiny, spotless black, which made the silvery jewellery around his neck and in his ears as well as the deep red of his mask stick out in reverse.
⠀
“Alright, Dracula, what’s there to stare at?” Seoho spouted, as it was growing increasingly difficult to gulp his drink down if there was one pair of eyes clearly staring at him.
“Dunno, haven’t seen a pretty face in a while,” the stranger grinned, which Seoho rolled his eyes at, unsure whether he was actually trying to flirt or making fun of him, as the majority of his face was covered by a mask anyhow.
The boy proceeded to pour himself another drink, and Seoho did the same despite the burning sensation and the harsh taste of liquor that was yet to subside in his throat.
Not eager to leave the rather calm atmosphere of the kitchen and mixing with the other guests, Seoho and the raven-haired remained in their togetherness, talking about how both of their friends had vanished in the masses and their likes and dislikes. Downing a few more drinks, they found similarities between their personas without realising the merry fog around them densifying.
⠀
Seoho had always had a low tolerance for alcohol and it was showing – although he couldn’t tell how he was holding up relative to the last times he had gone out with friends since he couldn’t tell the ratio of alcohol and chemicals that were swimming in the punch, – and soon, everything began to feel fuzzy and so enjoyable that any remnant bit of sorrow from the day before had gone missing.
“I love that song,” Seoho shouted over the music, his body turning off-beat but intact with his counterpart’s movements.
“What?” he shouted back and leaned forward, his forehead almost resting on Seoho’s shoulder, so that Seoho’s nostrils easily filled with a mix of sweat, a strong but fragrant perfume and an ounce of his individual scent that was akin to cypress wood.
“I said I love that song,” Seoho repeated, his heartbeat speeding up in an excited thrill as he felt a hand cradle his waist. With fuzzy electricity coursing through his veins, Seoho’s mind flashed no worries giving in and allowing himself to be led, not minding the proximity; their shoulders and hips brushing against each other and his sizzling breath tickling his face whenever they would draw closer to exchange scraps of conversation – Seoho didn’t mind any of it although he wasn’t one to cherish affection and clingy people normally; his love-language anything but physical touch.
“Then what do you think about grabbing another drink and advancing to the centre of the room instead of keeping toppling around in one lifeless corner?” the raven-haired asked before emptying the last slug of alcohol in his cup.
“Are you asking me for a dance?” Seoho grinned, and the boy grinned back.
“Maybe,” he then said and shifted Seoho towards the kitchen by the little of his back. Seoho barely registered how they almost jostled against masqueraded people, as the fog in his brain had him already feeling up in the clouds and with a stranger treating him so softly and knowing exactly how and which buttons in Seoho’s reserved and attention(love)-deprived mind to press, thinking clearly and rationally had grown to be a bore’s job.
Seoho leaned against one of the counters and registered his empty cup being taken away from him. “What do you want to drink?” his deep voice asked, and Seoho watched how his pretty lips curved into a content smile.
Seoho was a man of discipline, not liking the loss of control that intoxicants effected when the liquor shifted his rational self outside of his body – as though in retrospective, Seoho recognised himself talking and acting because impulses were travelling and leaving his mind too fast for the usual second-guessing to happen, leaving him at the mercy of his raw self. And given the state of carelessness and giddiness that he had already surpassed, Seoho listened to the remnants of his uptight-self and dismissed the offer – risking the possibility, testing the capacity of his tolerance and possibly throwing up in front of someone he had barely met half an hour ago was not on the list of things he wanted to experience at least once in his life.
“Alright, water?” Seoho’s heart took a devoted jump, catching him off-guard and leaving him incapable of bringing more than a nod to pass.
“What? No forcing another drink on me?” Seoho asked with genuine surprise in his voice, trying to mask the hot red that was now colouring his cheeks for a reason outside of his grasp with a light chuckle and by internally blaming it on alcohol.
“Of course not. Your standards in men must be pretty low if that’s what you were expecting,” the raven-haired commented nonchalantly and brought the plastic cup to his lips again, gazing at Seoho through these sharp eyes of his, framed by the wine-red mask he was wearing and yet so expressive.
Seoho stared at him for a little longer (he told himself it was for the sake of not having to move his head and shake his eyes around, as the drinks were getting to his head and the constant fuzziness of his world was staggering and tiring) until he felt bold enough to draw closer and take possession of the boy’s almost emptied cup, downing the last sip while eying him with a cheeky grin.
“Shall we?” Seoho asked although he was already dragging the boy along by his wrist.
⠀
The atmosphere felt even more intense in the middle of the room, with twirling and budging groups of people encircling them from all sides – stuffier, louder, funnier, buzzed.
The years Seoho had spent in the dance studio were not showing that evening, but he couldn’t care less because his counterpart was just as uncoordinatedly enjoying himself, and Seoho was slowly forgetting how he had initially planned to spend the evening on one of the sofas and making the most of the party by his own understanding of fun, joking around and fishing a scarce but good company of strangers who weren’t the type of party-people either.
Instead, he was tipsy and shuffling around a guy who was wearing the same costume as him and enjoying his company as much as he enjoyed flirting with him.
“I have to admit, the host has done a pretty decent job at choosing the music,” the raven-haired praised before he pulled Seoho closer by his upper arm and out of the way of a couple who, by the looks of it, were in a desperate rush to shove their way through the crowd and find the next bathroom. The raven-haired chuckled lowly into Seoho’s ear before letting him go after the people had passed.
“That’s good to hear, I helped put together the playlist for tonight,” Seoho admitted with a proud smile, head swimming in frenzy.
“No way, you like Monsta X?” he asked, and Seoho realised that he had not once payed attention to the songs that were playing, merely budging with the mass and letting himself move in high spirits and by the lead of the raven-haired.
Seoho nodded eagerly in response, noting that Fallin’ was playing and that everyone appeared to have a good time partying to his and Youngjo’s music. “I heard they’re bringing out a movie soon,” Seoho remarked, a sudden, disjointed thought, but he had already given up controlling what was spluttering out of his mouth, “I tried to find someone to go watch it with, but apparently, my friends are all either busy or tasteless.”
“I’m neither busy nor tasteless you know,” his counterpart retorted – he was doing it again; that stare, that grin, his hands brushing against Seoho’s sides.
Seoho cleared his throat and straightened his back, unsteady in his stance but otherwise at the top of his form, and his counterpart looked at him funny, unsure what was crossing Seoho’s mind in that very moment.
“So, Dracula, would you pay me the compliment of accompanying me to the movie theatre in the near future?” Seoho asked, only so sure of himself because he could blame it all on being drunk later on if this move would end up as faux pas.
“Are you asking me on a date?” the raven-hair cackled and flashed a teasing smile.
“Maybe.” Seoho rolled his eyes and shoved the laughing boy lightly, cherishing the déjà-vu in reverse.
⠀
Time passed and Seoho was breathless from dancing his heart out, never in time with the music but all the more with the boy who had been sticking close to him over the course of the entire evening, when suddenly the crowd of people started moving in unison.
“What’s happening?” Seoho asked as he felt the boy’s hand between his shoulder blades gently nudging him to move forward, too.
“No idea, let’s find out,” he shrugged, and Seoho heard the way he was smiling again.
There was cheering coming from outside; Seoho and his company were stepping through the glass door that lead into Youngjo’s garden where they squeezed through the dense gathering of people.
Seoho clutched the boy’s hand on instinct, afraid of losing him to the colourful batch of people and ending up lost and disoriented – vulnerability scared Seoho, but with someone by his side who appeared to be in his right senses – relative to how flashy and jokily his own were – and to have committed to not leave his side, Seoho felt sheltered and as though he wouldn’t be dragged into actions that he wouldn’t have taken part in if he were sober.
As though from afar, Seoho heard Dongju declare that there was a punishment waiting for a certain someone who had taken his mask off, and soon enough, said person, appearing rather amused than desperate despite a dunk in water and humiliation awaiting them, stepped in front of the basin that they had set up in the centre of the garden. Seoho halted next to an occupied bench by the hedge that was separating Youngjo's garden from the neighbour's one to catch a clear sight of the spectacle, pulling the raven-haired close to his side.
Seoho quickly caught the thrill that the others were feeling as well and cheered eagerly as the soon-to-be-punished boy whose face wasn't as familiar as Seoho’s subconscious had hoped sat down on the plank and waited for his unlucky fortune, because he had, according to what Dongju had announced and declared, taken off his mask.
If Seoho had been doubting the consequences of the seemingly most important rule of the evening, he wasn't doubting it anymore, yet all the more enjoying the entertainment he was deducing from the stranger’s suffering – satiric traces, as expected.
Seoho felt arms wrapping around his waist, and he quickly melted into the touch of the raven-haired. “Stop running off,” he chuckled while Seoho hadn’t even noticed how his feet had shifted closer to the uppermost front row. Before he knew, he was claiming a place on his lap, the boy leaning unsteadily on the edge of one of the garden benches, but doing his best to keep both of them upright and in a halfway comfortable position.
"Punishment! Punishment!..." the crowd cheered and Seoho quickly tuned in, laughing along and snuggling against the boy's chest. White breath was diffusing into the chilly autumn air, but Seoho was enjoying himself and the body warmth around him way too much to sense the dropping temperatures of the night relative to his light and flimsy clothing.
They kept watching several people grasp the red ball, squeezing its resilient sand fil in their palms before attempting to strike the bull's eye of the target and send the traitor swimming. By now, it had grown almost odd to see a person's face fully uncovered, masked visages encircling him – Seoho had almost gotten used to training his brain to imagine what everyone looked like from the apple of their cheeks upwards.
“God, these people are helpless,” he laughed into Seoho’s ear with his low voice, “looks like I have to do it myself.” Seoho let the raven-haired shift his weight from his lap to the place on the bench that had their forerunners had previously left.
“I’ll be right back.” Seoho waved him goodbye, no intention to get up with the raven-haired absent and before the rule-breaker would live through his bath.
Seoho watched him walk up to the scene and ask for one try, the Choker whom he recognised to be Youngjo himself passed him one of the red spheres, and within the blink of an eye, the raven-haired winded up and struck the target in the very centre.
The boy on the plank yelped in surprise as the installation under him vanished, and he disappeared under the water before even the crowd could start applauding and cheering, celebrating his Dracula for the final shot.
The drenched boy laughed along and congratulated his tormentor nonetheless; the raven-haired appeared to have picked up on his shivering, as he asked Youngjo for a towel, which he then passed the poor boy.
Once the whole situation had settled, most people having relented to the cold and therefore gone back inside, the raven-haired approached Seoho again and plopped down next to him on the cold wood with a proud smile decorating his lips.
“Nice shot,” Seoho praised as he let his head fall into the crook of the boy’s neck; he felt an arm veil around his shoulder.
“Thanks,” he laughed as though it was nothing and done with utter ease, “tired?”
Seoho gave his foggy head a moment to notice how his eyelids had started to droop, so he nodded, neither knowing what the time was nor how long they had spent their energy on twirling each other round the unofficial dance floor.
“Let’s get out of here then, I’ll walk you home.” Seoho was pulled to his feet, ears flushing red, as he would have rather insisted on making it home by himself, but the mutual glow between them screamed at him to savour their togetherness for a little longer. Eyes crossing, they held the other’s gaze for a few moments that felt like the world had stopped around them, and Seoho found himself sobering up for a second and hoping that this wouldn’t end up being nothing more than a drunk slip-up, and even if the boy’s mouth had been covered, Seoho would have still been able to read the smile from his crescent eyes.
⠀
The poor light that was illuminating their small town had them walk through darkness for most of the time, Seoho subconsciously drawing closer to his company whenever they would pass especially dark and movie-like scary alleyways, until the raven-haired seized the initiative and intertwined their fingers.
Conversations were passing back and forth between them with the greatest of ease, a chamber in Seoho’s mind wished the night had extended for a little longer, but already when they had entered Youngjo’s house again to leave through the front door, the place had noticeably cleared, hinting that the party was gradually coming to an end (and this way, Seoho wouldn’t be found by Youngjo who had been getting to him all week about how he should stay the night and help clean up the leftover mess the next morning – Seoho had stolen away and was consequently off the hook; no doubt, he was proud of it.)
“I’d invite you inside but my parents are home and…” Seoho began as they had stopped in front of his home.
“No worries,” the raven-haired waved aside and let go of Seoho’s hand, the cold immediately assaulting his lonely palm.
“We’re still wearing our masks,” he then noticed, breaking into a fit of giggles. By instinct, Seoho brought his hand to his face where the synthetic fabric was still clinging to his cheeks.
“You’re right,” Seoho laughed and mirrored the other’s motion of slipping the rubber-strap off the back of his head and slowly disclosing his entire face from under the glittery mask.
⠀
“You?!”
It was like an icy splash of water in the face, and Seoho suddenly felt stone-cold sober, now recognising who the stranger was, standing face to face with Geonhak, and while Seoho couldn’t lie about the familiar itch that his voice had ringed in Seoho’s brain, he could have sworn that his hair had been a peroxide blonde just this morning.
Seoho and Geonhak looked at each other, dumbfounded, facial expression derailed into infernal disbelief, jaw dropped, and at a loss for words.
Geonhak was the first one to crack up with laughter, and although Seoho was trying his hardest to resist and tell himself that that was not funny at all, he couldn’t hold his act up for long and tuned in.
“Did you know?” Seoho asked, laughing, though an indecisive frown between his brows.
“No! Did you?” Geonhak posed the counter question, shaking his head at both of their stupidity as Seoho protested loudly.
“Yeah… that’s awkward,” Geonhak muttered, his eyes never leaving Seoho, somehow bearing the same soft tenderness through which he had looked at Seoho for the last hours.
Seoho recalled the night’s events and turned a deep tomato-red as he noticed how he had swooned over the same boy that he had cursed the living wits out of just around midday.
“Well… is our movie date still on?” Seoho piped up, unsure where to place his hands now that Geonhak no longer enclosed them with his own – Seoho blamed it on alcohol that he wished to make a fresh start with the dancer.
“I guess it is,” Geonhak snorted, less confident than Seoho had got to know him over the course of the night, but he was not doing any better.
All pride aside, maybe Geonhak wasn’t so bad after all.