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“No, Jungmo, I’m not going to a haunted maze with you,” Wonjin whines. He thinks it’s a little unfair to be coerced in his own apartment, by the guy he’s treating to dinner no less. It’s 7 pm, Howl’s Moving Castle is paused on the TV, and their bowls of instant noodles are getting colder by the minute. Wonjin never said anything about an expensive dinner.
“But it’s a haunted maze,” Jungmo pauses to enunciate each of his next words, “in. a. graveyard!”
Perplexed, Wonjin questions the entirety of their friendship. “You do realize that that’s worse, right?”
“But it’s important that you come.”
“Important how?” He doubts that it is, but he likes Jungmo’s voice enough to at least play along.
Jungmo doesn’t answer right away. At the other end of the room, Minhee takes it upon himself to start eating while the food’s still warm, getting tired of whatever Wonjin and Jungmo have going on.
“Can you give me about 5 minutes to think of an answer for that?”
This earns an eye roll from Wonjin as he tries to walk away. He takes all of two and a half steps when Jungmo shoots out his arms to trap him. Under any other circumstance, at least this much physical contact would have fed Wonjin’s hormone-fueled delusions. As it stands, the prospect of waltzing around a place of death far outweighs a 2-year crush. It usually takes some light begging and maybe a few hugs to turn Wonjin’s no to a yes, but he has to draw the line somewhere. No amount of boyish charm is enough to make Ham Wonjin, known and proud coward, spend the better part of his least favorite holiday in a cemetery. That’s how crime documentaries start, and life is short enough as it is. Besides, damp grass isn’t exactly involved in his “things to do on October 31” itinerary. What he has lined up for tomorrow is more or less what people might call an otaku’s idea of paradise. That or spending the evening with Allen and gorging themselves with brownies. Either way, his plans are decidedly indoors. Wonjin tries to say as much, but Jungmo beats him to the punch with a pleading look.
Jungmo is too adorable for his own good. Is that a sniffle? That son of a bitch is playing dirty.
“Koo Jungmo, I’m sure you can do better than that.” Jungmo continues to trap Wonjin in a back hug, swaying both of their bodies to the beat of some slow song they were both listening to on the way home. “I can, Ham Wonjin, but I don’t think I have to.”
Yeah, he has a point. Wonjin doesn’t want to admit that he has a pathetic crush on an equally pathetic boy. It’s a good thing that words are very much unnecessary for that point to come across. Most of his friends are already aware of his infatuation, at least to some degree. Even Jungmo is aware of his power over Wonjin. A stranger might look at the two and think that Wonjin has the upper hand in their strange, are-they-or-are-they-not-together dynamic. The truth is, what Jungmo lacks in sarcasm and teasing quips, he makes up for with physical displays of affection—hugs and small, tender smiles strong enough to put down even the most emotionally constipated. A cuddly Jungmo is capable of taking down any idiot in love, and Wonjin’s nothing more than a fool.
“Can’t you invite someone else? Doesn’t Taeyoung owe you for acting like his boyfriend last week?”
“He only wanted the couple’s discount for ice cream, and I want to invite you.” Junmo tightens his hold. He’s starting to slightly shake Wonjin, as if doing so might literally loosen him up.
He’s really laying it on thick, huh?
“Well, I don’t have a costume, and I really don’t want to ruin the whole vibe.” Wonjin is still desperately trying to weasel out of the invitation, but Jungmo’s not having any of it.
“You can wear the free doctor outfit I got for buying mine. I spent a lot of money, so I really don’t want it to go to waste.” Jungmo points to a messy heap of clothes he dumped on the sofa as soon as he walked in. Wonjin thinks it’s definitely not his fault that Jungmo spent so much for a plan still in the making. At this distance, he can only make out a white blouse. Upon closer inspection, he sees the makings of a low-cut dress with a small, red cross and—holy shit is that a nurse costume? He holds it up in front of him, eyes scanning the sparse detail. There’s really not much to see when the main attractions are all in the whorish length of the skirt and that definitely unchristian neckline. Next to where he picked up the outfit is a depressing lab gown and a cheap, plastic stethoscope. It doesn’t take a genius to guess which one’s the freebie and which one’s the allegedly expensive thirst trap. A glorified towel wrap can’t possibly cost that much.
With absolutely no shame, Wonjin utters, “We leave tomorrow at 9 pm, yes?”
Jungmo pumps out a loud “yes” then takes a seat by Minhee, who’s already halfway through his bowl. Wonjin eyes his own last-minute costume and resigns himself to his fate. He has no way of knowing, but he swears he hears Minhee mutter something along the lines of, “I can’t believe my best friend's an easy bitch.”
—
“This was not a good idea,” Jungmo concedes, right after Wonjin’s eight scream of the night. What prompted the latest one was a slight rustling of some harmless bushes. They’ve just made it out of the haunted maze and are on their way back to Wonjin’s apartment. It’s 11 pm, the streets are deserted, and the atmosphere is definitely not improving Wonjin’s still frightened state. “It’s just a cat,” Jugmo says calmly, “I think it just wants to say hi.” A quiet meow from the feline perpetrator prompts Jungmo to meow back as if in reply. On a normal day, that would have elicited at least an “aww” followed by some healthy cringe from Wonjin. Now he just thinks the other is crazy.
Wonjin is still reeling, which is an expected consequence given his distaste towards anything remotely frightening. To Wonjin’s left, Jungmo remains nonchalant despite his previous confession that this was not one of his wiser plans. Wonjin would like to argue that Jungmo coming up with any sensible thought is rare in itself, but he keeps quiet. Instead, he takes Jungmo’s right arm and plants himself to his side. The leftover adrenaline is finally waning, and he’s starting to recover from one and a half hours of constant running, crying, and/or tripping. The maze should have only taken half the time they were in there, but all the screaming made it difficult to make it through. Jungmo eventually had to carry Wonjin and haul ass since a tired Woobin had to remind them that other people were still in line to get in.
They were quite a sight. A half dead doctor and a slutty nurse traipsing around in a graveyard. One is currently incapable of forming words, and the other is in deep thought. Jungmo decides to break the quiet with, “I read somewhere that exciting and dangerous situations can do well for confessions.”
Wonjin looks up and tries not to jump to conclusions. “What kind of fuckass logic is that?” He says with much more force than necessary. To be honest, Wonjin’s just trying to fight the blush starting to color his cheeks. If the plastic stethoscope draped on his neck was any functional, it would have heard the erratic beating in his heart. They don’t really talk about the awkward middleground they have between flirty friends and downright couple. Any talk of forming an actual, romantic relationship is shot down and replaced with their usual, evasive banter. Wonjin’s humor and tendency to avoid the talk have made him more single than all his years of card magic training combined.
“Based on recent events, not a very sound one. I was hoping you’d be my boyfriend by the time we get out of the maze.”
Jungmo starts to back away thinking that he finally broke Wonjin, who looks like he’s seconds away from committing violence. Wonjin is cute when he gets playfully physical, but he’s a downright menace when he’s actually angry. Jungmo was fully expecting a sharp punch on his arm and maybe even a slap on the back of his head. He’s already plotting the best route to take once Wonjin starts giving chase. It’s a good thing he can run in his dress. What he doesn’t expect is a loud laugh. Maybe Wonjin finally lost it? Jungmo can’t believe he’s about to be the main antagonist of Wonjin’s villain origin story.
Surprisingly, what Jungmo thought was a look of impending assault devolved into a laughing fit, which might be a tad inappropriate given where they are. It’s a miracle that Wonjin still had the lung capacity for it. “I fell on my ass, like, three times,” Wonjin wheezes out when he can. He wipes his eyes and dries his fingers on his shirt.
Truthfully, Wonjin’s starting to sound like a dying whale, but Jungmo doesn’t seem to mind. Once he’s sure that he’s free from harm, he corrects the other, “Six, actually.”
“Fuck you. I almost died.” Wonjin’s laugh is so infectious that Jungmo, who’s apparently Count von Count all of a sudden, starts to ease up too.
“You know what I don’t understand?” asks Wonjin.
“Probably the inner workings of the female genitalia.”
Wonjin elects to ignore that last comment. There are times when Jungmo genuinely believes he’s funny. It’s during these moments that he thinks whatever comes out of his mouth would lift his unofficial status of “unfunny dude we hang out with because the group’s actual comedian likes him.” He steadies himself on a tombstone, mind too numb to care about what supernatural repercussion it can entail, and faces Jungmo.
"You already know that I like you. Enough to enter a haunted maze in a graveyard, which says a lot. Why bother doing all of this?”
“Just wanted to show you how interesting life would be like as my boyfriend.”
A variety of thoughts go through Wonjin’s head.
“Interesting” is far from what I want to call whatever I just went through.
If I had died tonight, I will make sure to haunt your ass.
Allen’s probably finished the entire batch of brownies by now.
Holding your arm the entire time was probably the highlight of my evening.
Waking up next to you is exciting enough.
Instead, he settles for, “You’re a loser,” short and sweet.
And maybe Jungmo really is a loser, a lot of people would definitely agree. Unfortunately, Wonjin likes that in a man.