Chapter Text
It hadn’t been long since Kibum started liking Minho. Well, to be more accurate, it hadn’t been long for him; but objectively speaking, Kibum had been in love with Minho for 12 years, five months, and 29 days—since that moment in the playground when they were six and Kibum’s frail, little heart got shattered when he saw Minho give Jung Yeol-a a kiss.
Things had changed since then, though. For one, Kibum had grown accustomed to Minho kissing other people. His heart no longer ached whenever Minho came to him to announce his new lover; and his heart no longer hoped a lot when Minho came to him to announce that they had broken up… usually just a few weeks apart. Kibum had grown used to Minho’s mini heartbreaks as well as he got used to his own. They were 18 now and about to go to college—it was about time for Kibum to move on.
Doing it was nearly impossible, though, because every time Minho came to class with his collar popped up, Kibum’s heart lurched. He was captain of the soccer team, MVP for three consecutive years. He looked like an angel, didn’t smoke, the teachers’ favorite. Minho grew his hair out to a shaggy bob—and could actually pull it off. Kibum sighed. Minho was perfect. And he was just a fool who was in love with his best friend.
“What did I miss?” Minho asked, pretending to care about the lecture. He was late again. “Maslow’s hierarchy of needs,” Kibum whispered back. Minho squinted at the blackboard. “Oh, right, the pyramid thing. Hey Bum, you know that cheerleader Yeol-a?”
Here we go again, Kibum thought, rolling his eyes. “Pretty Yeol-a or brainy Yeol-a?” he asked. There were two Yeol-as in their grade, and both were in the cheerleading squad. Pretty Yeol-a was the then-six-year-old girl who stole Minho’s first kiss and brainy Yeol-a was a sweetheart who seemed to excel at everything. Kibum didn’t like either of them.
“Brainy Yeol-a,” Minho said, excitement evident in his eyes. He was tapping Kibum’s hand frantically, desperate for a reaction. Kibum moved his hand away to give him a death glare. What about her? he mouthed, conscious that the teacher was looking their way now. “She asked me out!” Minho whispered-slash-shouted, quietly squealing with joy and hitting Kibum’s arm like a child having tantrums.
“Choi Minho and Kim Kibum, outside, now!” the teacher roared. Minho put his arms up in surrender, then exited the classroom without a word to the tune of their classmates snickering. Kibum let out an exasperated sigh, before following him out the door.
**********
If Kibum was to go to college—any college—he had to start ditching Minho. He stared at the poster on the bulletin board.
STUDY GROUP EVERY FRIDAY, 3 PM
BUDDY SYSTEM
DAEGU HIGH LIBRARY
Look for: Kim Jonghyun
Buddy system, huh? Kibum thought. The natural course of action was to drag Minho along—but after what happened yesterday, Kibum felt like associating with his best friend would be detrimental to his studies right now. He tore the poster off the board and checked the time. 2:45 PM. He had enough to go to the library and maybe find a partner there.
Just then, Minho came running towards Kibum and locked him in a vice grip. “Buuuumie! School’s out, let’s go eat!” Kibum struggled to get his neck out of Minho’s grasp, largely irritated at his roughhousing. It was one of the things he could never get used to.
“I’ll go to a study group today,” Kibum calmly said when he managed to break free. “Unlike you, I can’t rely on sports to get me into college.”
Minho’s face was a mix of worry and disappointment. “Something bothering you, Bummie?” He sounded genuinely concerned and Kibum felt slightly guilty. It wasn’t entirely Minho’s fault that they were thrown out of class yesterday, right?
Except it entirely was—and Kibum knew. He had to be strong if he was to take this college thing seriously. “No offense Ming, but I really want to study. Go eat teokbokki with brainy Yeol-a instead.”
Kibum didn’t intend for the last part to sound as icy as it did—but it managed to freeze Minho in place, giving time for Kibum to stride purposefully away and towards the library.
***********
When Kibum arrived at the library, almost everyone had paired up and only one guy sat alone. He had a pile of posters in front of him, same as the one Kibum had torn from the board earlier.
“Are you Kim Jonghyun?” Kibum asked as he pulled out the chair across from him. Immediately, he felt stupid. The tag on his chest clearly read 김종현 Kim Jonghyun. “Sorry,” he muttered.
The guy smiled widely. “No worries. Sit down. Have you eaten? We don’t have a lot of snacks but we do have some choco pies over there,” he gestured towards a plate of assorted sweets at the end of the long table “and plenty of water,” he pointed to a water dispenser in the corner.
Kibum found himself relaxing despite his earlier embarrassment. Jonghyun stood up and retrieved a choco pie for himself. Then, back in his seat, he asked “so what’s your name?”
“Kim Kibum,” he answered, lifting the portion of his uniform with his name tag, grinning. “Touche,” Jonghun said, smiling back. He took a marker from his bag and wrote something on the choco pie packet.
“Here,” Jonghyun said, handing Kibum the snack, its red and white packet infused with the giver’s handwriting. Kibum shyly took the gift, touched by the sweet gesture. An unknown feeling bubbled in his stomach. All of a sudden, he didn’t want to look at what Jonghyun had written. He reached for his bag and dropped the pie inside while the other looked at him in protest.
“Oh, I’m not really hungry,” Kibum said, making a quick excuse. “I promise to eat it later.”
Jonghyun seemed satisfied with his answer. “You better,” he said, failing to hide the smug smile that crept up his face.
**********
Later that day, Kibum walked out of the library with Kim Jonghyun at his heels. They were the last pair to go out since Jonghyun had to stay back to make sure everyone had left. “Organizer duties,” he said apologetically. Kibum found that he didn’t mind arranging the chairs and tables in the library if it meant a few more moments with Jonghyun.
Something in the air felt strange. Kibum, who had always been cautious, found himself strangely drawn to his new friend. He was sweet, smart, and determined to go to college like him. Their energies matched—and for the first time in a long time, Kibum felt that he had a shot at a bright future.
The pair of them walked down the corridors, now nearly deserted. Jonghyun’s laugh reverberated from the walls when Kibum told him what his childhood dream was.
“Really?” Jonghyun asked, amused “All you wanted before was to move to Seoul with your best friend?” He laughed again. Kibum’s cheeks burned, cringing at how silly eight-year-old him was. “It sounded good back then, okay?” he said defensively “he was a soccer prodigy, so it meant I may get to live in a cool dorm or something.” Even as he told the story out loud, Kibum thought it wasn’t that shallow. Was it?
“That’s cool, sure, if you’re also into soccer,” said Jonghyun “but what is it you really want to become, Kibum?”
The question lingered in the air. They had reached the school gate now and Kibum still didn’t know the answer. Lost in thought, he was snapped back to reality by a loud voice from across the street.
“Hey, Bum! Bummie, hey!” Minho flailed his arms to grab their attention. Kibum groaned internally, already thinking of an excuse to give Jonghyun. To his surprise, though, Jonghyun grabbed Kibum’s wrist and led him across the street to where Minho was standing.
Kibum didn’t know what to feel standing between Minho and Jonghyun at the bus stop. It was getting dark and an awkward silence hung in the air. Jonghyun eyed Minho and Minho eyed him back. Expectedly, it was the former who broke the silence.
“Kim Jonghyun,” he said, holding out his hand to Minho, who only reluctantly took it. “Choi Minho,” he said back, his facial expression caught between curiosity and caution.
“Kim Kibum. Nice to meet everyone, yeah, so let’s get going Minho, okay?” Kibum pushed Minho away from Jonghyun and towards the bus that was about to take passengers. He wasn’t even sure if it was their bus, but Kibum didn’t care. A scary kind of panic was building in his chest—and he couldn’t understand why he would feel this way.
Fortunately, Jonghyun was cool and calm. He gave a lazy wave to Minho and then beamed at Kibum. “I’ll see you Friday? No. Uhm, can I see you earlier than Friday?” he called.
Kibum’s eyes widened. He could feel Minho boring holes at the back of his skull. “Y-yeah, yeah sure!” he called back. The bus was filling with people now, if they didn’t get in, they’d have to wait for the next one.
“Great! Eat your choco pie!” Jonghyun shouted, waved once again, then turned the other way.
Once Jonghyun was out of earshot, Kibum breathed a sigh of relief. He and Minho weren’t able to get on the bus—but it was fine. The next one should arrive in a few minutes. Minho shoved him. “Idiot, that wasn’t our bus. What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting weird?”
Why was he acting weird? Kibum didn’t know. “Never mind,” Minho suddenly said, his voice exhausted. “D-did you guys just set a date?” he asked, looking at the floor, shy. Kibum’s heartbeat went wild again. He had no reason to lie. There wasn’t any reason at all—but he wanted to, so, so, bad.
“We’re study buddies,” he decided to say, non-committal. Minho wasn’t convinced.
Inside the bus, Minho wasn’t himself. He rested his head on Kibum’s shoulder, pretending to sleep. “Bummie, I’m hungry,” he whined “give me some food.” Kibum remembered Jonghyun’s gift weighing strangely heavily in his bag. For a brief moment he considered it, but ultimately decided not to share it with Minho. “Let’s stop by the food cart in our neighborhood,” he suggested.
Minho sat straight up and pouted, his eyes difficult to read. He looked out the window, not speaking to Kibum the rest of the way.
**********
Kibum felt like he was decoding a secret message. Jonghyun had written a series of numbers on the choco pie packet, but none of it made sense. He turned it over and over, looking for a clue. Maybe it’s a math equation? Kibum thought, once again trying to remember what they studied earlier. Nothing.
“It’s a phone number you idiot,” Minho said, carrying their plates of teokbokki back from the counter. When he settled down, he flicked Kibum’s forehead. “What stupid idiot would write their number on a choco pie? That dude has a weird vibe, Bummie, I don’t feel good about it.”
But Kibum felt rather good about it. About Jonghyun. About the number written on the choco pie packet. “Ming, should I text him?” he asked with eyes sparkling, not even noticing the small red patch on his forehead where Minho’s finger had hit him. Minho rolled his eyes. “Do you like him that much?” He stabbed a rice cake and chewed it exaggeratedly, not exactly waiting for an answer.
“I might,” Kibum admitted. He was intrigued, that’s for sure. Minho scoffed and hurriedly wolfed down the remaining teokbokki on his plate, spilling red sauce on his uniform in the process.
The instinct to look after Minho kicked in instantaneously. Kibum hurriedly grabbed the tissue box and wiped at Minho’s chest, scolding him as he had always done. “You’re so clumsy. Come here, I’ll wipe that for you.”
But Minho had stood up and grabbed the tissues from Kibum’s hand, wiping himself on his own. “Leave it. I’ll do it.” Minho frowned as he rubbed his uniform vigorously, as if taking out some unexpressed anger. Kibum was dumbfounded, still sitting down, not even halfway through his meal.
“I’ll get going,” Minho declared. He swung his backpack on one shoulder and stormed out the food cart without even saying goodbye, leaving Kibum reeling from an array of new and unfamiliar feelings.
**********
Kibum never liked walking alone at night.
The advantage of having Minho as a best friend was Kibum also had a bodyguard whenever they walked down their dimly lit street. The neighborhood wasn’t really dangerous but sometimes, they would get the occasional perv or drunkard. Minho had always shielded Kibum from any danger—but now, Kibum walked alone.
He’s so annoying, Kibum thought, seething with anger. He wasn’t one to be petty but in an effort to relieve the anger still in his system, Kibum gave in to curiosity and texted Jonghyun’s number.
“Hey, this is Kibum~” Sent.
Kibum’s heart thrummed in his ears once again, now with a different heat burning his face. He was still deeply annoyed at Minho, but the anticipation of Jonghyun’s message overpowered everything else. Kibum locked his phone to turn the screen off, only to check it again after 30 seconds, finding nothing.
He kept walking. Minho’s house was just around the bend, which meant his wouldn’t be too far ahead. Maybe I should apologize, Kibum pondered as he calmed down. He didn’t know exactly what he would be apologizing for, but as sappy as it might sound, he didn’t want to end the day fighting with Minho either. He reached the bend and instinctively looked up to see Minho looking over his window, waiting for Kibum to pass by as always.
Kibum waved at him, signing I’m sorry with his hands folded together in front of his chest. Minho laughed despite himself but he nodded. He pointed at the front gate, mouthing ring the bell, inviting Kibum to come in.
His feet was on autopilot and his hand rang the doorbell without being told twice, but just as Minho opened the door to let him in, his phone buzzed.
Kim Jonghyun
“Well finally! I thought you wouldn’t figure it out.”
Minho had always had impeccable reflexes, that’s what made him a great soccer player; and Kibum knew this. Yet, he didn’t turn his phone away when Minho opened the gate, allowing him to see who had messaged. Something akin to anger resurfaced on Minho’s face—but Kibum didn’t feel guilty about it this time. Didn’t mind how his best friend’s face crumpled in disgust. Didn’t mind the thing that was dangerously close to jealousy.
“Play fair,” Kibum bargained “support this thing with Jonghyun and I’ll support your thing with Yeol-a.”
Neither of them understood why they needed to approve of who the other was dating. It had just been second-nature to them; something they’ve done since they were little. And Minho knew it, too. “Fine,” he agreed “but this won’t last, Bum. I’ll make sure.”
And before Kibum could retort, Minho had gone, slamming the front gate to his face.