Chapter Text
The first time something like this happens, Intak is wholly unprepared for it.
It is early November. He has just arrived back at his apartment from a 10 A.M. lecture on the far end of campus, and he is looking to crash right after he makes himself a late breakfast as a reward for getting up so early and surviving the trip and back. This has been part of his weekly routine ever since he started living here with his roommate, Keeho, who he had vaguely known from a writing class in freshman year and felt fine enough moving in with later on.
He unlocks the door and heads into the apartment, greeted with a silence not unfamiliar to him. Often, Keeho is gone from the morning until the late afternoon, interspersed with random drops into the apartment to grab things from his room and whatnot.
Sometimes, though, Intak can find him sprawled on the couch, laptop open on the coffee table to some half-finished assignment, most likely playing on his phone. Intak thinks nothing of his current absence and slips off his shoes and bag, putting them away on the rack by the door, and toes on a pair of well-loved slippers.
He heads into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head as he goes. The fridge is sparse when he opens it, and the pantry is near bare, but there are two packs of instant noodles left in the bulk-package that do not appear too old hiding in the corner of a cupboard, so he settles for that. Intak also makes a mental note to remind Keeho to go grocery shopping soon.
Intak sets up a pot on the stove to boil water, and then stares at both packs he left on the counter, contemplating. He figures he is not hungry enough for both packs, but it would be easier to finish off the last of the Ramen so the leftover pack does not get forgotten again in the pantry. It is a long shot, but he decides to check if Keeho is home and to see if he is hungry. Usually, as any person would, Keeho accepts a bit of whatever Intak is making when he asks, and it makes Intak happy to share, knowing Keeho is eating when he accepts little else of Intak’s help.
He has an inclination to care a little too much, or so past relationships and friends have told him, but he thinks there is nothing wrong with having a desire to help, to give. Regardless, he tries to keep most of it under wraps and out of sight. He hums to himself as he walks off deeper into the apartment toward Keeho’s room.
Arriving at his door, Intak tries the handle but is met with the sound of it being locked. Weird. Neither he nor Keeho lock their doors when they leave the apartment. They have gotten to the point, at least to Intak’s understanding, where they trust each other not to root through each other’s belongings.
Plus, even when Keeho is in the apartment, he usually leaves his door wide open. So there is no reason for his door to be locked, unless—Intak cuts his thoughts off before they wander too far into territory they would rather not be in.
He knocks on the door and calls out, “Keeho? I’m back from class, do you want some Ramen?” There is no response. He knocks again, a bit harder in case Keeho has his earbuds in or is sleeping, starting to feel a bit of worry curl in his chest. There is still no response. What is he doing? He places his ear against the door to see if he can hear anything, but he is disappointed once again.
Intak leans back and considers himself for a moment, standing in front of the closed door, and hesitates only slightly before reaching above the door frame to grab the spare key gathering dust atop it. He reasons with himself that if Keeho gets mad at him for doing this, he can say he did so out of worry for Keeho’s safety since he was not responding. Having reassured himself with an alibi, he opens the door and walks two steps into the dark room.
Keeho’s curtains are drawn and his lights are off, and the light from the hallway follows Intak in, illuminating the floor and up the walls as it crosses the threshold. His shadow cuts into the light, casting a long ghost over Keeho’s figure that is hunched, sitting on the side of his bed and facing away from the door. The strings of his earbuds snake down from his ears, and music faintly bleeds into the air in attest to its volume.
Intak freezes in his tracks, but it is too late. Keeho immediately peeks over his shoulder at the disturbance of his peace. The two appear halted in time, stuck staring at each other for a moment that stretches into a small infinity. Embarrassment awakens in Intak’s gut like a bear out of hibernation, yawning into his stomach with a show of brutish teeth. Intak clenches his jaw, swallowing tersely, as awkwardness engulfs him in a smothering blanket.
Keeho tugs out his earbuds. “Oh. Um, what’s up?” His voice is uncharacteristically soft yet thickened like his words were spoken from the back of his throat, tone feigning nonchalance. Intak, unsure of what to do, invites himself in further, and his shadow warps around the furniture, exposing Keeho to the soft hallway light.
Intak freezes up again as the light graces Keeho’s face and he bares witness to his swollen eyes, red cheeks, and the glistening tear tracks streaking down his face. Keeho wipes at his face, almost as if he realizes how he must look to Intak, and looks at him strangely like Intak is the one with a problem. “Are you just gonna stand there? What’s wrong, dude?”
“Uhh,” Intak flounders, trying to grasp at the words floating around in his head that are distinctly unrelated to all the questions he wants to ask Keeho right now. They keep slipping from his grasp, and all that he musters up is a stilted, “I asked… if you want some Ramen. Um. You weren’t answering, so I came in… Sorry.”
His voice fails him the more he goes on, the letters unraveling from where they were hastily stitched together in his head, faltering into a near-whisper by the end. When Keeho does not immediately respond, still staring, Intak opens his mouth to backtrack, to extricate himself from the situation and pretend this never happened, but Keeho beats him to it.
“Sure,” he says, finally breaking eye contact. “Yeah, why not.” Keeho is suddenly in motion; he wipes his face with the backs of his hands and musses his hair, shoves his phone into his pocket, and stands up to gesture for Intak to take the lead out of the room.
Intak, slightly stunned but determined not to embarrass himself further, takes the cue and leaves without another word; the shuffling of Keeho’s socks on the hardwood behind him is the only indication he has that he is following.
They enter the kitchen and Keeho makes himself comfortable at one of the barstools at the peninsula counter, perching his head on a fist so he can watch while Intak cooks.
Intak is uncomfortably aware of his eyes as he goes about the motions of making the Ramen and then dividing it into two bowls once it is ready, but he ignores the feeling like he tries to ignore the fact that Keeho was crying . He sets one bowl in front of Keeho and fetches them each a set of chopsticks. Keeho thanks him and digs in without another word. Intak mirrors Keeho’s silence and eats standing up, across the counter from Keeho.
Keeho offers to wash the dishes once they finish and the two switch spots, Intak taking the chance to sit down and watch Keeho like the other did to him. His mind starts to wander as he watches the soapy bubbles form, the smell of coconut dish soap filling the air, the sound of water running serving as background noise. He never pictured Keeho to be the type of person to cry given what he has witnessed of his personality, or maybe he should have expected this.
Intak thinks Keeho is, at least according to what he has noticed while living with him, remarkably chill yet bleeding with passion. Back in freshman year, in that writing class, Keeho practically made friends with everyone in a three-person radius sitting around him. His voice carries in a room and his humor is infectious.
Everything Intak has heard about him since then has been glaringly positive. Intak never thought Keeho would cry over something, but that makes Intak realize he needs to remember that of course he would. Keeho is human, too.
Intak’s heart squeezes itself into a smaller shape, folding into itself like origami. That desire to help people and care about them is nudging Intak’s brain, and Intak is unable to tamper down his feelings before words are slipping out of his mouth. “Are you okay?” he blurts, and immediately cringes at the abrupt fracture in the silence.
Keeho takes it in stride and does not pause rinsing the bowl in his hands. “Yeah.” is all he says.
“You sure?”
“‘Course,” Keeho states, shrugging his shoulders, like it is nothing. “Just homesick, y’know?” He finishes and sets the bowl on the rack. He shuts off the faucet and dries his hands with the hand towel hanging over the oven handle as Intak watches.
“I get you.” Intak responds, “Um, are you gonna go home for winter break?” Keeho starts wiping off the counter where stray water splashed onto it and shakes his head.
“Can’t. By the time I get paid, I know for sure a flight would be out of my budget.” He spares a long glance at Intak, to which his heart falters in its rhythm. “What about you, dude?”
“Me either, at least not for a while. I’m hoping for spring break, maybe.”
“Same.”
They lapse back into silence, and it is a bit awkward, and Intak’s insides are itching with the urge to talk. Intak thinks about how his friends call him an overgrown puppy with the way he acts, and he used to deny it, but now he thinks it is at least a little bit true with the way his mind refuses to let go of the situation. Keeho has shown he does not want to talk about it anymore, if his short responses mean anything. His brain has latched onto a bone, and he is playing tug-of-war with it.
The words in his head refuse to speak themselves, held back by the lingering anxiety at the unknown element of this conversation. He and Keeho never really talk about their feelings to one another beyond hey-how-are-you’s and I’m-good-man’s that really feel so superficial now that Intak thinks about it. He does not really know his roommate, does he?
“Wanna watch a movie? To take your mind off of—” Intak diverts the situation and gestures vaguely at the air, shrugging his shoulders. The corner of Keeho’s mouth twitches, and Intak takes it as the start of a frown. “I mean- y’know, I just thought it’d be nice to… yeah.”
Keeho tilts his head at him, peering at him curiously through his blond fringe. “Sure, could be fun. What do you have in mind?” His arms are crossed and he is leaning on the counter, eye-to-eye with the sitting Intak. Intak feels every movie recommendation leave his mind as soon as the words are uttered.
“I dunno, maybe something you used to watch as a kid?” Intak suddenly remembers something, and he lights up, snapping his fingers and pointing at Keeho. “You promised last month you’d show me Halloween movies you watched back home, but you never did!”
Keeho’s face contorts in confusion before smoothing out in realization, “You’re right, I didn’t.” He points back at Intak and breaks out into a grin before straightening up off the counter. He swings the hand towel still in his grasp over his shoulder and rounds the peninsula, saying, “Get your ass over here. We’re watching Hocus Pocus.”
Intak swivels around on the barstool and sees Keeho pick up the remote from the coffee table and turn on the TV to a streaming service. “What’s it about?” Keeho spares a glance over at him, smiling conspiratorially, making Intak nervous for a different reason.
“Don’t ask questions, that’ll ruin the fun.” He turns the film on and sets down the remote. Keeho beckons him over as he falls on the couch, sinking into the cushions and making himself comfortable.
“Sir, yes sir.” Intak goes to take a seat on the other end of their small couch, eyes watching the screen as the storybook title card gives way to the camera following a witch’s shadow flying over a blue-gray forest.
A few minutes pass by, and Intak sneakily glances at Keeho from the corner of his eye. Keeho is leaning with his back against the armrest, legs folded up on the couch and a pillow on his lap. Intak thinks he looks so comfortable in his oversized gray hoodie, the hood pulled up over his messy hair, and he is absently fiddling with one of the strings.
A ghost of a smile is on his lips, and the redness of his eyes and cheeks has mostly faded by now into a wisp of a blushy pink across his face. Intak forces his attention back onto the movie when his gaze drifts to Keeho’s lips, and he shifts against the couch cushions to sink into them further, embarrassment and something else he cannot define slithering in his gut.
Three witches are on screen, turning a boy into a cat with a magic spell. Intak is only kind of paying attention, so he is a little confused where the plot is going, because his mind keeps drifting off to Keeho. The scene changes to the witches being tried for their crimes in a village, and Intak thinks enough time has passed so he can finally ask, “Are you okay now?”
He can feel Keeho’s stare, but Intak keeps his eyes on the screen. “Yeah.” Keeho’s voice is soft but clear, devoid of all the thickness tears tend to bring. “This was a good idea.”
“Cool,” Intak responds, “I’m glad.”
“Thanks, Intak.” He glances at Keeho who is watching the movie but shortly after makes eye contact. Intak sees the reflection of the movie in his eyes, distorted oranges and whites dancing across his dark irises, and wonders what Keeho sees in his.
His throat dries up like a desert.
Is Keeho also watching the colors in his eyes move, and does he also think it looks… pretty? Intak shuts that train of thought down before it spirals in his brain into something he cannot control.
He has never thought about Keeho like this before, and he is not sure where it is really coming from. He already knows Keeho is handsome—his face is right there—but he has never lingered on the thought of it before like he is now.
And what a thought to be having when today started off so normal, only to have his perspective of his roommate abruptly shifted once he found him crying by chance. If Intak had not decided to make Ramen, if Intak had not been worried about his locked door—he wonders if he would have never seen Keeho differently.
This is too much for today. Intak scrubs a hand down his face, and quickly looks at the clock over on the wall. It’s only one o’ clock. Jesus. He slouches harder into the couch in a way he knows will have to pay for later when his back starts to hurt, and truly settles in to watch the movie.