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In Seungkwan’s vast experience of first dates, as far as locations go, this one is the most posh. He figured as much when he saw the address. What else does he expect from a dimly lit but sleek and stylish Cheongdam-do restaurant, with gold detail along the black furniture, and high ceilings draped in crystal chandeliers? It looks straight out of a chaebol drama – a place where celebrities go on dates to get away from the paparazzi and politicians meet to make shady deals (he’s been watching way too much JTBC).
He was quick to state on the record (so to Jeonghan) that he did not choose the place. That would be Hyunsu, his latest Bumble match. Hyunsu from Bumble was decently good-looking (check), adequately funny with his opening line on the chat (check check) and, most importantly, responded to Seungkwan’s bantery jokes with a laughing emoji (check check check). Hyunsu from Bumble is a data analyst, and while Seungkwan is not entirely sure what that is, he can assume he makes a fair bit of money. That much is clear by the fact that he chose a place in Cheongdam-do with an unpronounceable French name. Basically, Seungkwan is about to go on a date with a guy who is apparently in another tax bracket, hot and maybe funny.
He is also late.
“Sir, we have a reservation for Hwang Hyunsu-ssi for 8.30PM, but unfortunately we cannot seat anyone unless all members of the party arrive,” the hostess says flatly, with zero remorse in her tone. In her stilettos, black bodycon dress and chic high ponytail, she’s dressed better than Seungkwan is. “I could offer you a seat at the bar while you wait,” she says, as a consolation.
“Beats waiting here, I guess?” Seungkwan laughs nervously. Her face is unmoved. Wow, tough crowd .
Seungkwan sighs as she shows him to the bar. Like the rest of the place, it’s black onyx lined with gold detail. The seats on the barstools are black leather. Opening his jacket button, he takes a seat (thank god he let Jeonghan talk him into wearing a dinner jacket). He opens his phone and sends a text to HyunsufromBumble: Hey, I’m here. See you soon!
“Hi there, what can I get you?”
He looks up to see a smiling face but busy hands. The guy behind the bar is carrying a tower of stacked glasses in one hand and a white dish towel in the other. With expert ease, he sets the stack down on the counter and drapes the towel over his shoulder, looking expectantly at Seungkwan. His black shirt and apron indicate that he’s a bartender. He is also, Seungkwan will admit, very cute.
“Oh, nothing for me,” he says, before sheepishly adding, “I’m just sitting here because my date isn’t here yet.” He feels like he has to clarify this because a) he doesn’t want to start drinking before HyunsufromBumble gets there and b) he doesn’t want to seem like he’s one of those guys who goes to bars fishing for a hook-up (Is that something rich people in Cheongdam do? He doesn’t know, maybe JTBC has truly rotted his brain).
Cute bartender guy raises his eyebrows. “Well, can I get you something while you wait?”
“No, I'm alright,” Seungkwan says. Bartender Guy nods with a smile and continues being busy. Seungkwan watches as he goes down the bar where two older men are seated – foreigners by the look of them. Bartender Guy speaks to them fluently in English, asking them if they'd like another round, and somehow his voice sounds deeper and huskier in the other language. It is more attractive than it needs to be.
Snap out of it, Boo Seungkwan. You're literally here on a date with someone else.
Of whom there is still no sign.
Seungkwan checks his phone. It is now 8.40PM and there are still no messages from HyunsufromBumble. Maybe he’s driving and there’s a lot of traffic. Or he's on the subway. Perhaps data analysis requires staying late in the office. Seungkwan would know if he bothered to look up what exactly data analysts do.
He looks around the restaurant. It’s not exactly the den of affluence and debauchery like they show in dramas. It’s full, but the patrons look mostly like business people at dinner meetings. He spots a few couples on dates too. Closest to him are a middle-aged couple sipping on glasses of red wine and eating what looks like steak. The lady giggles at a joke that her partner’s just made, while he beams proudly. Seungkwan smiles. Maybe this is a regular spot for them. Maybe they come here all the time. He imagines himself in their place, in his fifties, giggling with his date over wine. Maybe it’ll be HyunsufromBumble. Maybe this will be the first of many dates they have here. Maybe–
He pictures Jeonghan rolling his eyes. Seungkwan wouldn’t blame him if he did, not after the number of times Seungkwan has sulked on his couch because of a date not working out. “Your expectations are too high!” Jeonghan scolded him once. “Maybe stop planning your retirement on the first date and figure out if you actually like the guy. Then you won’t be disappointed that he’s unbelievably boring.” Jeonghan was right. He usually is. But it’s also easy for him to say – he and Seungcheol have been together for years and are practically an old married couple themselves. While Seungkwan has been striking out after a maximum of three dates every time. Come through, HyunsufromBumble.
He checks his phone again. 8.48PM. No messages.
Down the bar, Bartender Guy is pouring a pinkish drink into a tall glass for a woman. He slices a strawberry, slots it on the rim of her glass and slides the drink towards her. She giggles, tucking her hair behind her ear and bows a thank you. Her gaze follows him as he bustles onto the next customer. Seungkwan smirks. He doesn’t blame her, he’d do the same. Hell, he’s staring at the cute bartender too.
The guy's hair is short and brown, droopy bangs falling into his face. His eyes are small, double lidded, with long lashes. The shape of them makes Seungkwan think he’s not entirely Korean. His cheeks form laugh lines when he smiles. His jaw is sharp enough to cut the lime he’s currently slicing with a kitchen knife. If Seungkwan has to sit here and wait for his date, at least he’s got a view.
His phone buzzes. Seungkwan quickly fishes it out, only to see a promotional offer email and no new messages. It’s almost nine PM.
Has HyunsufromBumble… stood him up?
He opens the chat and types furiously: Hey, everything all right? Are you on your way? He hits send and waits. No blinking dots, no response.
“Hey, are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Seungkwan looks up to see Bartender Guy across from him again. “Um, no thanks,” he replies.
Bartender Guy raises his eyebrows again. “I could get you house red while you wait–”
“Does this happen here a lot?” Seungkwan says hotly. “People waiting for dates who are late?”
Bartender Guy blinks at him, before saying, “Um, sometimes, I guess–”
“And what’s your strategy here? Try and get me drunk so I order more drinks while I wait for a date that might not even show?” Seungkwan snaps. He knows, rationally, that there’s no reason to get upset at this guy, but it’s not like HyunsufromBumble is here. Or even responding to texts.
Bartender Guy looks shocked. His smile withers slightly. Instantly, Seungkwan feels like shit. “I’m so sorry, that was out of line. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that–”
“It’s OK,” Bartender Guy says. “To answer your question, yes it happens a lot, unfortunately. And yes, that is literally half the business the bar actually does – the people sitting here, waiting for their friend or date or whomever, drinking to pass the time. It sucks, but it is what it is,” he says with a shrug. He offers Seungkwan a small smile that Seungkwan can tell is genuine. With the dish towel off his shoulder, Seungkwan can finally read his nametag – Chwe Hansol.
“Aha! So you were trying to sell me a drink!” Seungkwan teases.
“Hey, I work on commissions,” Chwe Hansol protests. “A guy’s gotta eat, right?” His lips tug into a half-smile. Seungkwan can’t even lie, it sends a tingle across his skin.
“Fine,” he concedes. “I’ll have a glass of wine.” Why not?
Chwe Hansol’s smile broadens into a wide grin, adding more laugh lines in his cheeks. Warmth bubbles in Seungkwan’s chest. “Coming right up.”
He pours the dark red liquid into a wine glass and hands it to him by the stem. Seungkwan can’t remember the last time he’d had red wine. At his sister’s wedding perhaps. It tastes fine – not too dry, not too bitter (his two criteria for judging wine) but nothing noteworthy. It does give him something to do though. He checks his phone. 9.09PM. Still nothing.
He can’t help but laugh. He’s had a bad track record for dates, but at least those dates showed up . Even though he wished some of them hadn’t.
“So, is your partner stuck at work or something?” Chwe Hansol asks over the bar. He’s busy again, wiping glasses and stacking them neatly on the counter.
Seungkwan takes a sip of his wine before saying, “Oh, he isn’t my partner. Hell, I’ve never even met him.” Hansol frowns in confusion. “Bumble date,” Seungkwan clarifies.
“Ah,” Hansol says, a smile playing on his lips.
Heat creeps into Seungkwan’s cheeks. He allows himself to wonder if Hansol only asked him that to find out whether or not Seungkwan was single. It could also just be small talk that Seungkwan’s wine-addled mind is misconstruing.
“Has that ever worked for you? The Bumble thing?” Hansol asks further, eyes narrowing with what looks like genuine curiosity.
“Yes, swimmingly well,” Seungkwan quips, sipping his wine. “In fact, I’m on a very successful date right now as we speak.”
He obviously means it sarcastically, but the smirk doesn’t budge from Hansol’s face. “Are you?” he says, lips curled on one side. Smile lines frame his mouth again. That definitely isn't small talk. Seungkwan gulps. The warmth in his chest simmers to a boil.
“Yes, can’t you see I’m digging into a nice foie gras at that table back there?” Seungkwan continues, committing to the bit. “I’m already full but I need to keep some room for dessert. I hear the panna cotta is divine.” That gets a giggle out of Hansol that's high-pitched and extremely endearing.
“I’m not the poster child for dating apps, no,” Seungkwan admits. “My friends tell me to keep trying. But what do they know anyway? They’ve all found domestic bliss without this digital game of romantic roulette.” Seungkwan feels the need to keep talking. Maybe it’s the alcohol loosening his tongue. He takes another swig. Hansol just nods. “I mean, you put your money on a guy who checks all the boxes. He’s cute, he’s charming, he’s funny. You think it’s a decent bet, right? But then where do you land? Two trains away from home, in the swankiest part of town, in your nicest shoes, waiting at the bar, drinking mediocre wine and chatting with the bartender. No offense,” he adds, for good measure.
Hansol puts his hands up. “None taken,” he says, holding back a laugh.
“Are you laughing at my misery, Chwe Hansol-ssi?” Seungkwan admonishes. (Why did he full-name a guy he just met? He couldn’t tell you. He blames the wine.)
“Not at all,” Hansol says. “It’s just funny that you’ve already finished your glass of mediocre wine.” Seungkwan looks at the glass in his hand and Hansol is, unfortunately, right. His glass is near empty. He curses under his breath. How fast did he gulp that down? “Also, that you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“Seungkwan,” he says, sheepishly. “Boo Seungkwan.”
“Nice to meet you, Boo Seungkwan-ssi,” Hansol says. The sound of his name out of Hansol’s mouth should not drive him quite as insane as it does. The heat in his chest threatens to boil over.
“If you’d like, I can make you a proper drink,” Hansol offers.
“Oh no,” Seungkwan says, shaking his head fervently, “I’m not paying for an expensive cocktail for a date that didn’t even happen–”
“Tell you what,” Hansol interrupts him. “If you don’t like what I make you, it’s on the house.” He bites his cheek and folds his arms confidently. Seungkwan can count the veins that snake up his forearms. He’s already onboard, but he’s too busy staring to say anything, so Hansol continues, “Come on. You did get dressed up and come here all the way across the city. Might as well have a nice drink, right?”
Seungkwan narrows his eyes, and smirks. “We’ll see about ‘nice’. Remember: if I hate it, it’s free.” He folds his arms too. Two can play this game.
Laying his palms down on the counter, Hansol leans forward. In a deep, low voice he says, “The sounds you’ll make when you taste this will make any lie you tell about hating it immediately unconvincing. Trust me.”
The bubbling heat in Seungkwan’s chest explodes, surging in all directions – his face, which he’s certain is bright red, his fingers that tremble around the stem of the wine glass and, he’s pretty sure, his dick.
“Fine,” he says, attempting nonchalance. “We’ll see about that.” He drains the last of his wine, throwing his head back dramatically, knowing his neck is exposed as he gulps it down. He’s sure he catches Hansol staring.
Immediately, Hansol gets to work, moving fast. He scoops up five or six cubes of ice into a large, stainless steel glass. With a peg measure, he measures out about a shot of what looks like whiskey – but it’s a whiskey Seungkwan’s never heard of. It looks expensive. Pouring the whiskey into the mixing glass, Hansol measures another spirit (Vermouth maybe) and pours that in too. Then he does a third – a mystery spirit that Seungkwan can’t recognize, one that has a fruity scent to it. Hansol moves swiftly from one step to the next with such ease, it’s almost hypnotic. He then slices an orange in half and picks up what appears to be a juicing tool. He stabs the sliced orange with the juicer over the mixing glass and twists. While most of the juice drips into the glass, some does run down Hansol’s arm (which Seungkwan tries not to think about). With that done, Hansol covers the mixing glass with another, hitting the back of it so it sits firmly on top. Lifting the whole contraption over his shoulder, he begins to shake. The glasses rattle rhythmically as he moves, shaking them in a swift staccato.
He’s also staring directly at Seungkwan as he does this, not breaking eye contact even for a second. If he didn’t already, Seungkwan knows now that he’s in deep trouble.
Hansol pours a reddish amber liquid into a martini glass through a strainer. With a paring knife, he cuts a piece of orange peel and lightly squeezes the skin over the glass. Seungkwan can barely see the light spray of mist that settles over the surface of the drink, but he can definitely smell it. Twisting the peel into a curl, Hansol drops it into the glass. Seungkwan stares as Hansol pushes the drink in his direction. Moment of truth.
Gingerly, Seungkwan lifts the glass up to his lips. It smells of citrus and musk, and somehow of cherry. Cautiously, he takes a sip. Holy shit.
“ Holy shit ,” he echoes aloud. It’s the perfect balance of sweet and tart and has a hint of spice to it, with undertones of cherry. The kick of the alcohol comes right at the end – not too light, not too heavy either. It’s just right. Seungkwan could drink this all day. He’d cause some major damage to his liver, but it would be worth it.
“This is fucking good,” is all he manages to say. Hansol breaks into a satisfied grin, before dipping into a curtsy bow.
“Glad you like it,” he says. Seungkwan can’t help but notice every curve of his face, the way his Adam’s apple bobs slightly when he speaks, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. A smile that fades slightly, before his face softens.
Stepping closer to the counter, Hansol says, “About your date – it sucks that he didn’t show. That’s a shitty thing to do. I know this doesn't make up for it, but I’m sorry.”
Seungkwan puts his glass down on the bar and takes out his phone. He’d forgotten to check it entirely. The time reads 9.27PM and there is one unread message.
Oh fuck! I completely forgot this was tonight! I’m sorry! I’m already home in Hongdae so it doesn’t make sense for me to come all the way there now. Raincheck?
Seungkwan huffs a laugh in disbelief. “Well, I’m not,” he says, as he blocks HyunsufromBumble’s number. He turns the phone around to show Hansol, whose jaw drops.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding about Bumble not working out,” he says with a snigger.
“The curse of being punctual, I guess,” Seungkwan says, sighing deeply before he takes a swig of his orange drink. It’s still stupidly good.
“For the record, online dating has never worked for me either,” Hansol says. “Besides, why try and meet people online, when I meet them at work all the time?” He adds with another sly smile. Seungkwan raises his eyebrows.
“Aish, Chwe Hansol-ssi,” he says, leaning forward. “Are you saying you make bespoke cocktails for all your lonely guests?”
Hansol feigns contemplation and says, “Nope, just the ones who call the wine mediocre.” That gets a laugh out of Seungkwan, before he continues, “Especially the cute ones.”
Heat rises in Seungkwan’s cheeks and his ears. Chwe Hansol here is as smooth as his drinks, apparently.
“And what do your cute, wine-critical guests owe you for said cocktails?” Seungkwan asks, taking another swig of his drink.
“How about an actual date?”
A smile tugs at Seungkwan’s lips. In addition to his face burning up, now his heart is pounding in his chest. “Are you going to get us a table here, Chwe Hansol-ssi?” he asks cheekily.
“Not unless you want to pay two hundred thousand won for five courses and still be hungry afterwards,” Hansol says matter-of-factly. “There’s a great samgyeopsal place around the corner, though. My shift ends at ten. You can finish your drink in the meanwhile.”
“Hold on, you want to go out tonight ?” Seungkwan asks, almost choking on his drink.
“Yeah,” Hansol says. Breaking into a smile, he asks, “Why, do you have other plans?”
Seungkwan huffs a laugh. “Wow, you don’t waste time, do you?”
Hansol shrugs. “I’m not one to make a guy wait.”
Seungkwan couldn’t stop smiling if he tried.
After Hansol’s shift ends, they walk down to the samgyeopsal place as planned. Hansol has swapped out the black shirt and apron for a pair of dark wash jeans, a flannel shirt and a denim jacket, which to Seungkwan’s annoyance, he looks even better in. As they walk down the glittery streets of Cheongdam-do, Seungkwan stops in his tracks.
“Wait, you never told me what that drink was called,” he says.
Running his fingers through his hair sheepishly, Hansol says, “It doesn’t have a name. I made it up.”
Seungkwan’s jaw drops. “You made up a drink recipe that good on the spot?” Hansol shrugs.
“Well, it should have a name,” Seungkwan says, as they resume walking. “It was incredible.”
“How about…” Hansol says, pausing in thought, “Boo’s Midnight?” He says the phrase in English, his voice deep and velvety.
Seungkwan gapes at him. “You want to name it after me?”
“Of course,” Hansol says, “I made it for you.”
A warm flush washes over Seungkwan. He doesn’t have time to respond before Hansol holds out his hand. Seungkwan slots his snugly into it. Hansol’s palm is soft and warm.
Jeonghan is right – when it comes to dating, you shouldn’t have expectations that are too high right at the start. It only leads to disappointment. Or even heartbreak. And Seungkwan’s seen his share of both. But as him and Hansol sit in a warm, bustling corner restaurant eating pork barbecue; as Hansol shows him five different types of soju shot tricks while Seungkwan laughs; as they end up chatting until well past midnight ( Boo’s Midnight ) when the restaurant closes; as Hansol walks him to the Cheongdam-do subway station and pulls him into a kiss just before his train arrives – a kiss that leaves Seungkwan speechless and weak, stumbling into the train and so dazed that he almost misses his stop; he can’t help but picture doing it all over and over again.
***