Chapter Text
Men in romance novels always seem to have crooked mouths and crooked smiles and a slightly crooked view on dating and relationships that the main character will inevitably come to fix through the transformative power of love (“and also dick!” according to his worst and only employee, Han Jisung). Since this is real life, the first time Hwang Hyunjin meets Kim Seungmin, the actor’s lips are notably pressed in the straightest of lines as he thumbs through the ending of The Anatomist in the back stacks of Hyunjin’s (failing, according to Jisung’s unsolicited opinion once again) bookstore.
Hyunjin didn’t know Seungmin was an actor at the time. His body of work is a little too pretentious and arthaus and right out of a Criterion lover’s wet dream for an Average Joe like Hyunjin to be familiar with, being someone who needs a character he can root for rather than cardboard cutouts being used to examine the human condition. Which is to say, Seungmin’s movies are soul-suckingly bleak and without an ounce of romance. Hyunjin might’ve watched a film with Seungmin in it once, for the sole purpose of seeming interesting and well-rounded, but the likelihood that Hyunjin mentally checked out less than ten minutes in and before Seungmin’s character was introduced, looked up the plot synopsis as the credits began to roll, and now can’t remember if he even did so much as that is pretty high.
No matter. Seungmin’s on the verge of breaking into the mainstream with aplomb; two weeks prior, it was announced that Seungmin had been cast opposite the nation’s first love, Lee Soojin, in a KBS drama optioned for worldwide streaming on Netflix and penned by a writer with massive starpower in her own right. Seungmin had won the role through an open audition process boasting over three hundred hopefuls.
Hyunjin will discover all of this later, after an extensive Naver search following a whirlwind affair from which he emerges already halfway in love; he is a hopeless romantic, through and through. At the time of their first meeting, the only thing Hyunjin knows about Seungmin is that Seungmin is very, extremely, incredibly cute.
There aren’t very many customers in the store by virtue of it being a Wednesday afternoon: a dead time for most businesses, not just because Fully Booked is on the verge of financial ruin. Sure, Hyunjin’s diet is restricted to convenience store food and watered down instant coffee in order to break even on rent every month, but come summer when there’s more leisure time to be had, stragglers on the streets trying to beat the heat, and the unspoken pressure to buy something after perusing the displays for 10, 15 minutes under free air conditioning and Hyunjin’s watchful eye, business will really begin to take off. He’s certain of it!
A customer enters wearing a baseball cap and mask at the same time Jisung makes his way out.
“See you tomorrow!” Hyunjin calls, arms full of poetry books that need to be shelved. The lack of customers needing his help is also why Wednesdays tend to be restock days.
“Not if I see you first.” Jisung blows him a kiss with one foot already halfway out the door. “Tonight! In your dreams!”
“Doubtful,” Hyunjin calls after him. “I haven’t dreamt about circus clowns since I was 10!”
Jisung gives him the finger and maintains it as he walks past the display window to go rehearse for a gig he and 3RACHA have booked for Saturday night. There’s an audible screech as Jisung’s bare skin drags across the glass. Hyunjin will need to Windex it later to get the streaks out, damn him.
While Hyunjin is sad about having to miss the show—he loves the energy of the crowd and seeing Jisung, Chan, and Changbin doing their thing on stage—there’s always the after-party to look forward to. Felix is hosting it at his and Chan’s place, which means there will be brownies involved. Changbin will, at some point, drunkenly proposition Hyunjin to become a professional 3RACHA groupie, which isn’t much different from when he soberly propositions Hyunjin to be his boyfriend; while neither of them take Changbin’s flirtatiousness seriously, Hyunjin likes the attention nonetheless.
After a tumultuous breakup with a man he formerly thought to be the love of his life, Hyunjin can’t bring himself to download any apps or do anything that falls in line with putting himself “out there” and/or “getting back on the dating horse.” Six months after the split, his heart is still too tender and bruised to fall for somebody again, especially at the breakneck velocity which comes naturally—almost compulsively—for Hyunjin. That doesn’t necessarily stop him from hoping, though. Hoping that the random person he sits next to on the bus will be the person he sits next to for the rest of his life, that the handsome stranger in the frozen vegetable aisle at Lotte Mart will invite him over for dinner and every subsequent meal after that, or that the lastest customer to walk through the door of his bookstore is the one whose red string of fate finds terminus in a bow tied neatly around Hyunjin’s pinky finger.
By the time Jisung disappears from view, Hyunjin has already lost track of Baseball Cap and Mask Man. Thankfully, the store isn’t so big that Hyunjin won’t bump into him eventually and ask if he needs assistance with anything.
Fully Booked opened for business less than a year ago—eight months, to be exact—and Hyunjin has made a lot of progress in revitalizing the space since its conversion from a former hardware store into a book-haven-slash-art-collective. He lines the walls with paintings from local artists for sale and scatters around small sculptures and ceramics in place of bookends on all the shelves. Hyunjin has spent countless hours wandering up and down the different aisles at this point, writing recommendations for his favorite books onto mini-placards for display.
After he finishes up with shelving, Hyunjin makes his rounds to check on the few customers in the store.
There are his regulars, of course: Mr. Sim, an elderly gentleman who swings by on his way back from the market, a wheeled basket full of groceries trailing behind him even though Hyunjin has offered to stow it behind the register for him plenty of times. Mr. Sim never buys anything but always leaves Hyunjin with a tangerine and a gummy, gap-toothed smile on his way out. Then there’s Carrie, the au pair from Iowa with hair as silken as the corn her family grows back home, baby-faced and beginner with her Korean, who usually drops by on Wednesdays with her 5-year old charge in tow. Jaehee is mature for her age in that she is very gentle with the picture books she flips through and bows politely in greeting whenever Hyunjin drops by to ask how everything is.
It takes less than a minute for Hyunjin to locate Baseball Cap and Mask Man, tucked away by the mysteries. Apt, considering he piques Hyunjin's interest in the way only a good Agathie Christie-style whodunit can. With no one else around, BCMM must've felt comfortable enough to remove his mask for the moment, shortening his nickname in Hyunjin’s head to three letters instead of four. Even with the slight shadow cast by the brim of his Yankees cap, his face is clearly visible: strong nose, soft eyes, and lips pressed into the thinnest, straightest of lines.
Brows furrowed, he's approximately 300 pages into The Anatomist, which is presumably the reason why aforementioned brows are furrowed into one continuous strip of hair across his forehead.
"I'm assuming you've reached the big plot twist." Hyunjin comes to a stop a few feet away from BCM.
The stranger looks up, assessing Hyunjin closely for…something?…before he cautiously says, "I kind of regret spoiling it for myself. The secret parasitic sister being the killer reveal would have knocked my socks off had I gone in blind."
Hyunjin is immediately endeared by anyone under the age of 67 using the term 'knocked my socks off' in total earnestness. "So you're one of those, eh?" he asks, using a tone he hopes connotes the action of elbowing him in jest.
"One of what?" The stranger queries.
"The kind who skips to the last few pages of a book before they even read the first."
"I'm not in the business of wasting time. I need to know right off the bat if something is going to be worth it in the end."
"You must like Happily Ever Afters."
"Doesn't everyone?"
Hyunjin shrugs. "I’m definitely more of a Happy To Begin.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” The stranger lifts an eyebrow in question. He snaps The Anatomist closed with a thump and slots it back into the empty spot on the shelf beside two identical copies. “What exactly does that entail?”
“I’ve never had to put it into words before.” Hyunjin chews on his bottom lip in thought. He often wishes that the amount of reading he does correlates to how well he can speak. Rather than getting his point across, Hyunjin is sometimes guilty of talking in circles around it. “I guess it’s like opening up a brand new pack of crayons. The 64 count box with the sharpener built into the back. And imagine you’re seven years old, and the blank page in front of you could be anything in the world. It could be something from another world entirely. There’s like, this feeling of so many—of like, endless possibilities sprawled out in front of you. And you feel it again at seventeen, about to graduate high school, and you’re trying to figure out what to do with your life. It happens every time a date walks you to your door and you have to decide if you want to invite them inside; how long you’ll let them stay, be it forever or just for the night. Or—” Hyunjin spots the growing grin on the other man’s face and is suddenly self-conscious about how much he’s been talking this far. “Sorry, I totally word-vomited on you. I’ll stop now.”
“No, no. I get it. It’s like the feeling you’re supposed to get every time you open up a book?” He says, tongue-in-cheek.
“Bingo. It’s the reason why I opened up a bookstore, of all things.”
“It’s a beautiful exposition for the start of a business, I’ll admit. Too bad you ended up with a terrible pun like Fully Booked for the name.”
Hyunjin folds his arms defensively across his chest. “It’s not terrible, it’s witty!” Hyunjin protests assertively, as a businessman and entrepreneur might—definitely not in a whine. “I spent hours racking my brains to come up with it!”
“You’re right.” He sounds equal parts placating and condescending in a way that should not be as attractive to Hyunjin as it is. “And who am I, really, to judge?”
“Exactly.” Hyunjin sniffs. He slowly uncrosses his arms.
The jingle of the welcome bell pulls Hyunjin back into reality. Somehow, Baseball Cap and Formerly Masked Man has harnessed the ability to generate his own gravitational pull, because Hyunjin barely realizes how close he’s crept or how much time must have passed. The only thing he is aware of, and acutely so, is his own reluctance to leave.
Belatedly, he introduces himself. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way. Please holler if you need anything. Or want recommendations for other books to spoil for yourself. Or if you’re looking for more puns to judge. Whatever.”
“Seungmin,” he replies. “And I will, thanks.”
It takes Hyunjin an awkward half second to convince his legs to move, strangely hesitant like a newborn foal. He eventually makes his way back towards the cash register to greet who he had hoped to be a potential customer but is really a delivery driver dropping off a package Hyunjin ordered off of Coupang last week. With Spring right around the corner, Hyunjin had a vision about adding a few floral touches to the store, and found fake ivy and wisteria garlands that he thinks will be nice to hang in the display window above a collection of coming-of-age novels he’s themed Blooming Into One’s Own. Hyunjin hopes the artificial wisteria is colorful enough to catch a few wandering eyes and bring in bodies without a fixed destination in mind.
He spends three songs on the store’s looping playlist untangling the garlands from their plastic packaging, flattening out crumpled petals and leaves between the press of his fingers as best as he can. Perplexingly enough, Hyunjin somehow manages to get the strands even more tangled in the process, his upper torso caught up in the ensuing snarl as well. He spreads his arms out as wide as he can to try and break free, wingspan like a curtain rod draped with criss-crossing flowers and vines.
“You seem busy,” a familiar voice calls from behind. Hyunjin spins around to see Seungmin placing a small stack of books onto the counter beside the register. The whiplash of his sudden turn dislodges a few loose petals that flutter prettily to the ground.
“Not at all.” Hyunjin sounds breathless for no reason. ”You’re all set, then?”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t bother extracting himself from the mess of garland and coolly starts to ring Seungmin up—as coolly as one who looks like a walking bundle of purple wisteria can be, anyways.
“Oh, I love this book!” Hyunjin squeals as he scans the barcode on the back. He remembers writing a recommendation for it the other day. “And this one, too! I love the prose.” After the third book he gushes over in a row, Hyunjin quickly realizes that Seungmin’s only buying ones that he left a hand-written review under it on the shelf.
“Oh.”
“I figured—” Seungmin coughs to clear his throat, “—who would have better taste in books than a bookstore owner, right?” There’s a hint of bashfulness to Seungmin’s voice. Hyunjin can’t tell if that’s an actual flush creeping up the back of Seungmin’s neck or if it’s simply because Hyunjin is viewing him through rose-colored-so-dark-they’re-practically-wine-colored glasses.
He runs his finger along the glossy spine of Love Untold, trying to tame the butterflies and menagerie of other large winged beasts rattling around in Hyunjin’s rib cage. “Did you cheat and read ahead to figure out if this was worth your time?”
“No, I’m trying to take a page out of your book instead.” Seungmin looks at him meaningfully and grins. “Pun intended.”
“Pun appreciated.” Hyunjin beams as he grabs a tote bag meant to be a gift for purchases of over ₩50,000 and places everything inside. “Cash or card?”
Seungmin is going to reach for his wallet when Carrie approaches them, sidestepping to the register like a crab. She demurely tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as Jaehee emerges from behind Carrie’s legs and stares up at Seungmin like he hung the stars from the sky.
“You’re the man on mommy’s TV!” She exclaims.
“Her name is Jaehee. Can she have your autograph? And maybe a picture?” Carrie supplements her sentences with hand gestures even though she’s perfectly understandable. Her accent is never as bad as she seems to think it is, grammar much improved compared to when she first started au pairing for the Lee family last fall. She and Hyunjin can have full-blown conversations in Korean sometimes after Carrie shakes off her self-consciousness and nerves.
“Of course.” Seungmin takes off his cap and ruffles his matted hair until it falls across his forehead in a perfectly tousled manner. He bends down and takes a knee so that he’s eye-level with Jaehee and she sidles up next to him, one hand grasping at the hem of Seungmin’s sleeve as if afraid he’ll disappear before she can capture proof of his existence.
Hyunjin stares as Carrie unlocks her phone and snaps a couple of pictures. Without any scrap paper lying around, Seungmin signs the copy of Goodnight Moon that Jaehee’s holding and makes it out to Lee Jaehee, the prettiest girl in the whole wide world as per the five year old’s request. Seungmin tells Hyunjin to add the picture book onto his tab.
“Good luck on your new drama,” Carrie murmurs with a bow. She gives him two thumbs up and drags Jaehee away before her charge can talk Seungmin’s ear off about how much she liked his last movie even though her grasp on the plot seems tentative at best. Mostly Jaehee seems to like Seungmin’s co-star, an idol in a boy group that Hyunjin does recognize by name.
“I didn’t realize you were famous,” Hyunjin says, growing extra self-conscious about his current state re: a tangled floral mess. And in front of a celebrity, no less!
“Sorry for not being successful enough that you would recognize me.”
“I didn’t,” Hyunjin sputters. “I only meant that—”
“It’s fine,” Seungmin interrupts. His expression is teasing but kind. “I’m just messing with you, haha. I’ve been in a couple of things here and there but I’m no Park Bogum. Besides, you’re the one who comes as more of a surprise.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you sure this isn’t a side-gig?” He raises both eyebrows at Hyunjin. “Running a bookshop, that is. A face like yours belongs on the covers of magazines.”
“I was scouted once.” Hyunjin knows he’s failing to keep his face from bursting into flames. He gets complimented on his looks often, but not enough to be entirely desensitized to it, and especially not when the compliment is coming from someone as cute (and as famous!) as Seungmin. “On the street, by someone from JYPE when I was 15. I didn’t give it much thought at the time. I tossed away the business card she gave me immediately, without even telling my parents about it. I didn’t think idol life was for me.”
His skin was paper thin back then. He’s still thin-skinned to this day, although demonstrably better at regulating his emotions, and more assured of himself, thank god. Hyunjin would hate having to do so much of his growing-up and maturing under the scrutiny of the public, every step along the way filmed and documented and broadcasted to the world in ultra HD.
“For what it’s worth, I like the store.” Seungmin leans over and plucks a stray petal from where it’s woven into the bleached strands of Hyunjin’s hair, still peachy from when he had dyed it pink for a Valentine’s Day event last month. Seungmin sets it neatly beside some paper bookmarks for sale. “Terrible pun name and all.”
Hyunjin opens his mouth to say something back, but his mind draws a blank. He can’t get his lips to form around the shape of a simple, “Thanks.” It suddenly makes sense that Seungmin is a celebrity. Hyunjin feels dazzled by him.
Seungmin slings the tote bag over his shoulder and says, “See you around, Hyunjin-ssi.”
“See you,” Hyunjin whispers, too little too late, long after watching Seungmin put his baseball cap and mask back on before disappearing out the front door.
📚
The cash wrap counter is cool against Hyunjin’s cheek despite the condensation from his breath ghosting across the wooden surface. He’s been slumped on top of it for the last two hours, lamenting about how he didn’t ask for Seungmin’s number.
“Yeah,” Minho says dully, flipping through volume six million and nine of some manga series Hyunjin only vaguely recognizes. “You probably should have.”
“But what if he had turned me down?”
Flip. “Then you’d be numberless, the same way you are now, but without license to daydream about a fake future where you’re riding off into the sunset or whatever.”
“Hyung!”
“What’s the big deal, anyways?” Flip. “His last movie was a total bummer. “
“You watched it?”
“More like I suffered through it.” Minho throws his feet up onto a stack of boxes full of books that need to be inventoried. He leans back into the foldout chair Hyunjin keeps on hand behind the counter. “Jisung bought tickets thinking it was the movie about superheros and not a similarly titled film about humanity after the advent of cloning technology. Actor Guy dies in the end, but in a weirdly metaphorical way, so I didn’t get to see any blood from his stab wound or the life leaving his eyes. So lame.” Flip. “Jisung made it up to me afterwards, though—”
“Spare me.” Minho has no compunctions about sharing, loudly and proudly, the sordid details of his sex life with Jisung. Hyunjin almost wants to commend them for being absolute freaks about each other and unabashed about who knows it. Almost.
“I’m just saying.” Minho sniffs. “He’s just like any other guy, Hyunjinnie. His shit still stinks, same as everybody else.”
Hyunjin sighs. The logical side of him knows that it’s true and the dangers of putting anybody, much less some unknowable celebrity, on a pedestal. But: “He was soooooo cute!”
“I can’t watch this anymore. Go take a walk,” Minho instructs. “Buy yourself a juice shot or something. I’ll watch the shop for a little bit. As a favor.”
“More like you’re tired of me interrupting your reading time.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes.
“Then take the hint and get lost.”
Hyunjin tugs on a jacket, unperturbed by the harshness of Minho’s words because they’re almost always softened by the upturned curve of his lips. “Do you want me to bring something back?”
“A smoothie.”
“What kind?”
“Something that tastes more like dirt than grass, thanks.”
Hyunjin nods. One of the kale blends then.
He steps outside, fortunate to find that the wall of wind blasting him right in the face is more temperate than biting. The sun shines unimpeded in the sky, a shade of blue so vibrant Hyunjin could spend hours trying to mix an approximation of the color to paint it with but never quite achieve the hue. The nice weather also drives people out into the streets the way it drives cotyledons past their seed shells in search of open air. It’s almost warm enough to bring out the cart of discounted books from its winter hibernation for passersbys to once again peruse. Anything to attract more customers.
Fully Booked is sandwiched between a fortune teller’s shop and a store that only sells light fixtures, bathing its portion of the sidewalk in a warm, welcoming glow. His neighborhood is not exactly trendy, more known for antiquing than the coffee shops and fusion restaurants that drive business development and the customers that come with it. Still, Hyunjin picked this location because he likes how quaint everything feels. There’s the sense that a Studio Ghibli adventure is waiting for him just around the corner: a portal to another universe, or a moment suspended in time.
Two blocks up and over is the juice stop that Hyunjin frequents—not because he particularly likes anything on the menu, but because Minho is a health freak with a membership discount for Hyunjin to use, and the nearest convenience store is inconveniently another two blocks away.
He forks over the cash for two kale-apple smoothies, laments the fact that he didn’t get Seungmin’s number again during the two minute wait for the drinks to blend and get poured into cups, then heads back to Fully Booked.
Regretfully, Hyunjin can’t stop replaying their conversation from earlier in his head, coming up with other, cooler things he and Seungmin could have talked about instead of his silly romantic notions: clever jokes he could’ve cracked, a package of ivy and wisteria vines that he didn’t have to unwrap. If Hyunjin had a second chance, he’s sure he could make a better impression. He’d be funny and charming enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about asking for Seungmin’s number because Seungmin would already have asked for his.
Hyunjin's rounding the corner in a dazed reverie when reality hits him—no, not reality. A person. Solid, with a large pair of hands circling around Hyunjin's forearm and wrist to keep him from toppling over. Hyunjin finds his balance at the expense of the kale-apple smoothies jerking upwards, spilling, and soaking into the stranger's sweatshirt—no, not a stranger. Seungmin. Kim Seungmin, sans hat and mask.
"Shit! Sorry!" Hyunjin is torn between trying to wick the green sludge off of Seungmin as best as he can and fleeing the scene of the crime. He ends up doing neither, since his hands are preoccupied with holding onto the half-empty cups and Seungmin's hands are still preoccupied with holding onto Hyunjin.
"Are you okay?" Seungmin asks, like he isn’t the one who took the brunt of the collision and Hyunjin doesn’t have a couple pounds on him.
"Yeah, fine." Hyunjin is similarly covered in smoothie remnants, but his shirt and unzipped jacket probably cost a fraction of whatever designer label Seungmin is currently wearing. "Look, my apartment is just above the bookstore. You can get yourself cleaned up there. I can also lend you something that isn't covered in what looks like something a cow threw up."
“Alright,” Seungmin accepts. His long legs match Hyunjin's stride while marching back to the store. Minho hasn't moved from his spot behind the counter, but he isn't so absorbed in his manga as not to dutifully look up to greet any potential customers. His eyebrows raise up into his hairline at the sight of Hyunjin and an equally soiled Seungmin behind him in the doorway.
"Damn," Minho says. "And I was really looking forward to that smoothie."
Hyunjin rolls his eyes. "We're going upstairs. Can you mind the store for a little longer?"
Minho waves him off in a manner that suggests it's not a big deal. After all, there's not exactly anyone in the store to mind.
Hyunjin takes Seungmin up the hidden staircase at the back of the store that feeds into the hallway outside of his and Minho’s two-bedroom apartment. It’s technically a one-bedroom with an attic that Hyunjin’s converted into a living-space-slash-art-studio rather than an informal gathering place for rats. As a roommate, Minho strikes just enough fear in Hyunjin that he works against his naturally messy tendencies, so the apartment is kept nice and tidy. In exchange, Hyunjin puts his foot down about the empty bottles of alcohol lining their kitchen shelves not counting as actual decor.
“Bathroom is the second door on your right. I’ll go and grab you a change of clothes.”
“Thanks.”
Hyunjin waits for the door to close behind Seungmin and to hear the sound of the faucet turning on before freaking the fuck out. He sprints to the kitchen to toss out the smoothie cups and wash off his hands, too preoccupied with mentally beating himself up to realize that the water is scalding and his skin has boiled itself into an angry shade of red. Hyunjin can’t believe he ran into Seungmin again! Literally this time!! And made an absolute mess of everything!!! He’s never getting Seungmin’s phone number now!!!!
“So much for making a better second impression,” he mumbles bitterly under his breath.
Hyunjin makes the trek up to his attic room and ponders the state of his closet. Thankfully, he did laundry recently, and has a full range of options to choose from when it comes to a) lending Seungmin something to wear and b) looking good while doing it. On the other hand, Hyunjin’s life is so monotonous that he doesn’t have a reason to own much of anything outside of a few button-ups for work and well-worn t-shirts that he discovers a new hole in every week. He does recall the sweater Jeongin gifted him last Christmas that feels like a hug every time Hyunjin wears it, which could work. For himself, Hyunjin settles on a plain white shirt, since it already feels like a century has passed since he last left Seungmin in the bathroom. This doesn’t deter him from wasting precious minutes deciding which cologne to spritz onto the sweater, then another minute to air it out so that the scent comes off a little more diffused.
Seungmin opens the door promptly when Hyunjin knocks to pass him the garment and emerges moments later looking like a prince in royal blue. He is movie star handsome of course, exactly what it says on the tin, but there remains a boy-next-door quality to Seungmin that makes him all the more attractive; he’s like an 80's song on the radio or polaroid pictures decorating a childhood room, the best friend you can’t confess to because you think he doesn’t feel the same the say. Something about Seungmin feels like being barefoot in the backyard and holding hands in the dark. Like the sweetest of heartbreaks and a diary entry dated 17 July.
“Do I look ridiculous in this?” Seungmin asks, neatly folding his soiled sweatshirt and slipping it into a plastic bag Hyunjin passes him. The sweater wears oversized on Hyunjin as well, but Seungmin has slightly shorter arms.
“Do you mind if I—?” He gestures vaguely towards the fingertips poking out from underneath Seungmin’s sleeves.
Seungmin lifts his arms high enough for Hyunjin to help him roll up the excess fabric, cuffing it twice until his wrists make an appearance. They’re slender like the rest of Seungmin—with the exception of his ocean-wide shoulders.
“There,” Hyunjin murmurs after he’s done, reluctant to let go but withdrawing his hands anyway because not to do so would be weird. “I think this sweater might actually look better on you than me.”
“Flatterer,” Seungmin accuses without any bite and tugs the collar up higher on his neck so that it sits snugly beneath his chin. Hyunjin hopes he likes the scent of Le Labo Rose 31.
This is as good a time as any for Seungmin to take his leave, but he lingers for some reason, neither stepping back or leaning close. This interlude makes Hyunjin nervous. He can’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart. He hasn’t felt this fluttery kind of anticipation about a person since before his breakup with Woong, and the intensity of it hits him like a bullet train straight to the chest.
Serendipity is meeting Seungmin not only once but twice in the same day. Now the issue is that Hyunjin’s imagination has built out a whole narrative based on these coincidences and is in serious danger of getting carried away.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Hyunjin asks.
Seungmin’s laugh comes out in one short, forceful burst. “No, thanks. The smoothie from earlier was plenty enough for me.”
A fresh wave of embarrassment washes over Hyunijn. He grimaces. “Sorry, again.”
“Most people just ask for my autograph, you know.”
Hyunjin wants to joke about being special but is worried about how it’ll land. Seungmin probably deals with weird stalker types who pull stunts like this all the time in order to stand out.
“I can throw your stuff in the wash if you want,” Hyunjin offers. “Or show you to the dry cleaning place down the street.”
"Don't worry about it. Seriously. I should be going anyway. I only came back to…" Seungmin trails off, eyes caught on Hyunjin's face for a moment before he quickly looks away.
"To?"
"My sunglasses," Seungmin finishes stiffly, staring resolutely at some fixed point beyond Hyunjin's shoulder. The front door, probably. "I was retracing my steps to look for a pair of sunglasses I left behind."
"I haven't seen any lying around in the store, but we can go downstairs and check."
"I trust you,” Seungmin says. “I really do have to go now." Curiously, he doesn’t make any moves towards the door.
"Are you sure you can't stay for a drink?” Hyunjin asks. “Or maybe a game of cards?" Fuck, he thinks. Cards? That was a dumb thing to say.
"No, everything—that is, this detour—is already out of character for me as it is. I’m supposed to be at home running lines, but weirdly, I wanted to go on a walk today.”
“Because it’s sunny and nice outside,” Hyunjin explains. “Is wanting to take a walk because the weather is good really considered out of character for you?”
“Highly,” Seungmin confirms. “I even got a haircut on a whim after I left your store.”
“You say that like it’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done in your life." Hyunjin laughs, head thrown back. He can almost feel the way Seungmin's gaze gets stuck on him again. After his giggles subside and Hyunjin’s blinking away tears, Seungmin comes back sharply into focus. The air between them stills, suspended down to the subatomic level.
"It was,” Seungmin says. “Until now."
Hyunjin’s almost afraid to ask. "What happens now?"
Seungmin takes a step closer. And then another. Seungmin’s lifting his hands even higher this time, resting them on either side of Hyunjin’s face, cradling Hyunjin like a precious, delicate thing. He lines up their lips but doesn’t quite close that infinitesimal gap. Instead, Seungmin whispers against Hyunjin’s awaiting pucker in a voice so soft it feels like waking remnants of a dream, "This."
A kiss, cherry cola-sweet like a slow dance at prom. Like Sixteen Candles and Pretty in Pink, Spandau Ballet playing softly in the back of Hyunjin’s mind.
When Seungmin finally pulls back, Hyunjin is already angling for a second kiss, instinctively chasing after another addictive taste. Seungmin stops him with a hand to Hyunjin’s chest.
“It was nice to meet you, Hyunjin-ssi.”
“I like your haircut,” Hyunjin says, because he should’ve said it before. The dark strands are mussed from where Hyunjin had enthusiastically run his fingers through them while they were making out. Which is—wow. What a sentence, huh? He can hardly believe it. He, Hwang Hyunjin, bookstore owner and part-time disaster, made out with movie star and reformed ending-spoiler-er Kim Seungmin!
How surreal. Surreal, but nice.
Seungmin goes to gather the rest of his things. Hyunjin trails behind him until they reach the threshold of his apartment but doesn’t follow Seungmin out the door.
He turns around just as he’s about to descend the stairs. “See you around,” Seungmin says with a wave of his hand.
Hyunjin can barely manage a goodbye. Still reeling from their kiss, he can only watch as Seungmin walks away from him for what feels like the final time. Now, Hyunjin is numberless and currently down his favorite sweater, too.
But he can almost taste Seungmin on the tip of his tongue, that cherry cola-sweet kiss like a slow dance at prom. A beautiful memory is better than nothing, right?
Hyunjin hopes so, anyway.