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Karaoke night goes to shit the second Gunwook’s boyfriend sends him nudes.
Not that Matthew sees said nudes, but there are only two possibilities that could elicit such a big reaction out of Gunwook, and there’s definitely no hope of Haikyuu!! Season 5, despite the guy’s delusions. Gunwook is the epitome of gagged, from his saucers for eyes to the dramatic manner in which he clutches his chest like he’s having a heart attack. The biggest, “scariest” (preposterous, when he cries every time he so much as steps on an ant) member of their squad, reduced to a scarlet, blushing mess upon opening his phone, would normally have Matthew going aww if Gunwook weren’t committing sacrilege by flubbing Mark Lee’s iconic “Jopping” verse he fought tooth and nail to claim, subsequently ruining their chance at a perfect score.
“Sorry, guys,” Gunwook laughs sheepishly amidst the angry shouts and popcorn hurled at him by a particularly vengeful Kim Gyuvin who does not fuck around when it comes to SuperM, “but I have important business to take care of.”
Matthew scowls at the offensive 86 on the screen. He sang his heart out embodying the holy spirit of Lee Taemin, and this is how he’s rewarded? Inconceivable.
“Since when did Ricky count as business?” Hanbin, also known as Matthew’s better (platonic) half who balances out his general haterisms, teases their youngest with a fond giggle.
“Maybe if you had a boyfriend you’d get it!” Gunwook—encouragingly, and a thousand percent earnestly, because he’s literally best boy through and through—thumps Hanbin on the back, then sees himself out after similarly dapping up Jiwoong, Gyuvin, and Matthew, unaware of the slippery slope he’s just pushed his supposedly favorite hyung onto.
“And then there were four pathetic tops left,” Gyuvin speaks into his microphone like he’s the MC of MCountdown and not a dweeby college student who, twenty seconds ago, had been voice cracking his way through Baekhyun’s high notes (it’s not that he’s a bad singer, but the Byun Baekhyun? Let’s not get too crazy, alright).
“Excuse me?” Matthew demands, brandishing his own mic like a knife, unable to comprehend the audacity of this bitch. “The fuck did you just call us?”
“Pathetic tops.”
“I heard you the first time. I was just giving you a chance to take it back.”
“Raise your hand if you’ve cried during sex,” Gyuvin retorts, already holding his own proudly up in the air as a shining beacon for the entire country of South Korea to behold.
Guilty, Hanbin lifts his as well. Jiwoong coughs and averts his gaze, which is as close to a confession as they’re gonna get out of their eldest. Matthew closes his eyes, exhales the longest sigh of his life, and reluctantly follows suit.
Mark his words, Kim Gyuvin will not be seeing the gates of heaven.
Ugh. Whatever. Matthew can worry about plotting Gyuvin’s demise another time, when he doesn’t have bigger fish to fry. Said fish appear in the form of demolishing the “Kick It” rap, naturally. And this time, Matthew is not about to concede his ultimate bias to anyone regardless of their pleading—he’s not here to make friends, he’s here to win.
Unfortunately, as he flips through the songbook for the right number code, the simultaneous bane of his existence and light of his life speaks up.
“Um,” Hanbin squirms in his seat, those wide eyes of his gazing imploringly at each of them one by one. He can’t stop fidgeting with the soju bottle clutched between his hands. A shadow of something oddly forlorn blurs his expression.
“Um, do you think Gunwookie’s right?”
Matthew frowns. Truth be told, he’s already forgotten whatever Gunwook said as he left. “Right about what? You not being able to rap like Taeyong? Hate to break it to you, buddy, but no one can emulate Taeyong. But as long as you’ve got the heart it’s okay.”
Jiwoong, as the sole mature adult in the room and friend group as a whole (sometimes, Matthew wonders how they roped the guy into their shenanigans. Personally, if he were Jiwoong, he would’ve run for the hills at the very beginning), takes pity and ruffles Hanbin’s hair not unlike how he would a sad kitten’s. “I think he’s talking about how Gunwook called him—”
“Bitchless!” Gyuvin blurts out victoriously.
“—I was gonna say single, but I guess that works too.”
Karaoke all but forgotten, Matthew’s blood runs cold. Oh, god. Not this again—not again. Seriously? When they were having such a good guys’ night out and sticking to their unspoken agreement of bros before hoes? Goddammit, Park Gunwook. Matthew hopes Ricky chomps his dick off as reparations.
His mind races to think of stupid ways to distract his best friend from the dreaded B-word, but it’s already too late—Hanbin’s eyes are welling up with tears amplified by his tipsy state, a sad, pathetic little sob hiccuping out of him as he throws himself at a Jiwoong who doesn’t get paid enough for this babysitting shit.
“I just want someone to spoil and call my princess,” Hanbin mourns into his soju, or at least that’s what Matthew thinks he’s saying through his heavy warbling.
Jiwoong recoils, but instead of saying anything remotely helpful like Matthew prays he will, the dummy latches onto perhaps the least important part of Hanbin’s statement. “Since when were you into women?”
“Princess is a mindset, not a gender,” Gyuvin reasons with the wisdom of the seven sages.
If Matthew invested in duct tape for Gyuvin’s mouth when they first met, he could’ve spared himself plenty of headaches. “C’mon, Bin. There’s nothing wrong with being single. You’re a strong, independent, king—” Lies. Nothing but filthy white lies “—who doesn’t need a, uhh, princess.”
Unmoved by the show of best friend support, Hanbin burrows himself deeper into a chagrined Jiwoong’s lap and sighs wistfully. “I’d be such a good boyfriend, though. My princess wouldn’t have to lift a finger as long as I’m around. I’d cook, clean, and raise our three daughters as a stay at home dad while he’s out there taking the world by storm.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Matthew is nowhere near drunk enough to deal with this shit. No amount of alcohol could ever make him drunk enough to tolerate another one of Hanbin’s woe is me I’m so sad that I’m single meltdowns.
“You guys suck,” he scowls, tossing his microphone to the side and deeming karaoke night sufficiently over.
And he never got his chance to cover Mark’s part. Fan-fucking-tastic. He knew he should’ve stayed home.
A little bit of necessary backstory to explain why Matthew’s such a hater.
He wasn’t born this way, believe it or not. His classmates back home in Canada knew him as a generally nice dude. Not too popular, but well-liked and had zero enemies that he was aware of. Sure, he gave his sister grief for the stupid shit he did like biking into the garage door or pulling all nighters playing video games, but that’s just normal teenager shit. The point is, Matthew was always a good kid who greeted everyone with a sunny smile, and people knew him as that kid who would never lose his optimism.
And then he had the genius idea of attending university abroad in the motherland—a chance to connect with his roots and work on his Korean, he explained to his guidance counselor—where, not ten minutes into lugging his measly belongings into his new dorm room, Matthew experienced his very first holy shit I’m not cut out for college imposter syndrome breakdown. He sobbed so loudly he attracted the attention of everyone on his floor and it took months for them to stop referring to him as “that small kid who missed his mommy on move-in day”.
In a twist of fate, however, it was that exact crying fit that led him to his savior—a living, breathing, angel in the form of a second year who could make a mean hot chocolate. Hanbin knocked on his open door, offered him a cup of sugary goodness, and told him to let it all out.
“You’re okay,” Hanbin cooed, not minding how Matthew’s snot ruined his nice shirt. “College is hard, but you’ll be just fine. And hey, so what if you find out it’s not meant for you? Everyone ends up right where they’re supposed to be!”
Those weren’t particularly groundbreaking words—Matthew’s heard them countless times before, from teachers and guidance counselors and his parents and sister—but they were just what a vulnerable, homesick eighteen year old needed to hear. And in that moment, Matthew swore he’d never met anyone so cool.
Well. Long story short, the illusion of coolness shattered pretty quickly. But by then it was already too late: Seok Matthew and Sung Hanbin were stuck as best friends.
Look, it’s not that Hanbin’s a bad guy. He’s great—the greenest of green flags! The type of guy you’d trust to watch your drink at a bar. An upstanding citizen who pays his taxes on time and chases down purse thieves. Someone kind and understanding enough to agree to fake date you if you lied to your strict parents about breaking up with the significant other they don’t approve of and need someone to pose as your new, family-friendly boyfriend (based on a true story, don’t ask).
The problem is, Hanbin’s a hopeless romantic. Which admittedly isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the guy dreams of a shōjo-esque romance involving cherry blossoms, a confession letter sealed with lipstick, and heartfelt love confessions under the pouring rain. Is it wrong of him to want to experience a fairytale love? No, of course not. It’s rather sweet of him, if anything, and anyone would be lucky to have him. Hanbin wasn’t lying when he drunkenly claimed he’d be a good boyfriend, because Matthew genuinely cannot picture anyone who’d treat their partner better than Hanbin would.
It’s just. That’s not how modern love works, is it? In this digital age of social media and dating apps and chronic online-ness, people simply don’t meet each other in romcom meet cutes anymore. Hanbin’s not going to get his our eyes met across a busy room and time slowed down as I realized I met my soulmate moment, but he’s stubbornly clinging to the hope that fate and destiny are real.
Unfortunately, Matthew is a realist. And the cold, harsh, truth? There is no fate, and there certainly is no destiny.
There exists only intervention.
Typically, Matthew likes to think of himself as a guy who minds his own damn business. However, there are only so many times he can listen to Hanbin’s melancholic spiels about wanting someone to pamper before he loses his mind, and they surpassed that number approximately two years ago. Consider the karaoke night episode the straw that broke this weary camel’s back.
Hanbin wants a boyfriend to call his princess? Alrighty then. Matthew will see to it that this fantasy becomes a reality. Bet.
Matthew may not have much to his name, but what he does have are a hangover, a 32 inch gaming monitor, a free Canva account, a fridge full of Red Bulls, and a dream.
Which is how he finds himself spending his Sunday evening not cramming for his anatomy quiz like he should be, but huddled over his monitor and furiously scrolling through Hanbin’s Instagram to find the most flattering pictures available, while Hanbin hovers nervously behind him.
“Are you sure this will work?” Hanbin frets, alternating between gnawing on his nails and his lips at a dizzying rate.
Matthew doesn’t reply immediately, too absorbed in clicking different gradients for his graphic’s background. He debates between an eye-catching pink to blue scheme, then decides to go with a classier black to gray, allowing the white text to pop out. Perfect. Maybe if this whole med school thing doesn’t work out, graphic design truly is his passion.
He had to run through a lot of ideas before settling on this one. Promotional flyers were his first thought, but since it’s club recruitment week at their school, the odds of being lost in the sea of other papers would be too high a risk. An online ad could’ve had a wide reach, except that would also mean a chance of age inappropriate randos trying to hit on Hanbin. A basic social media story would be gone after 24 hours, and setting up a blind date through his own connections is off the table considering they share the same friends. And of course dating apps were out of the question, after Hanbin’s flopped his way through four different platforms and been unmatched an embarrassing number of times without managing to go on a single date.
Thus, the solution was obvious:
Business cards.
“Nothing screams sophistication like pulling out a fancy business card,” Matthew reasons. The regular bullet points look kind of plain, so he hunts for star shapes in the Canva library to overlay the boring dots. “Like, think about it. Having a physical card makes you seem like a real person and not just a face to swipe. It shows that you’re serious about looking for someone, too, since we’re going to the effort of advertising you like this. And since I’m gonna be the one handing these out, it’ll give you a good look since you’ve got someone vouching for you. Plus, these are easy to distribute. Eventually a card’s gotta land in the hands of someone interested!”
Hanbin’s brow knits together. “I guess,” he murmurs, still skeptical. “But, um. Could I possibly make a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“Why is that,” Hanbin points to the singular bullet point under WHY HANBIN?, “the only reason to date me? What about, I dunno, my personality or something?”
Matthew sighs. Oh, Hanbin. Sweet, sweet, sweet, pure, naïve Hanbin.
Grandly, Matthew rests his hands on Hanbin’s shoulders and looks him dead in the eye as he says, “Friend. Stupid questions like that are exactly why you’re single.”
“Oh.”
Begrudgingly, after much wheedling, Matthew adds a second bullet point that, in his humble opinion, will only hinder his friend’s chances. But, he’s also a sucker for Hanbin’s puppy eyes, whether he likes to admit it or not, so he submits his design to the nearest office supply store and pays the manufacturing fee with Hanbin’s credit card. A couple weeks later, a package arrives on his doorstep, and Matthew’s ready to put his master plan into action.
(“Do you actually think Hanbin-hyung’s gonna get any dates?” Gyuvin muses from where he’s made himself at home on Matthew’s bed, stretching his unfairly long legs across the floor and flipping through Matthew’s Jujutsu Kaisen collection with his grubby, Hot Cheeto-stained fingers.
Matthew plucks his tightest tank top out of his dresser and smiles. “Not a damn chance in hell.”)
Whenever Taerae thinks he’s seen it all, he finds himself following Lee Jeonghyeon and Park Hanbin to a bar on a Monday night to swiftly prove himself wrong.
Something about those two just guarantees chaos. Trouble seems to follow their footsteps, from the time they were attacked by a flock of aggressive pigeons in broad daylight on a busy Seoul sidewalk, to just this morning when there was that whole fiasco with Jeonghyeon working up the courage to ask out the girl Hanbin’s been trying to set him up with, except there must’ve been a horrific case of miscommunication somewhere because she actually developed a crush on Hanbin, who’s never given a woman the time of day in his life. A flood of confused tears from the poor girl, a baffled standoff between Jeonghyeon and Hanbin, and a halfhearted attempt at conflict resolution from Taerae later, the trio found themselves trudging into the nearest bar to drink away the humiliation.
Taerae didn’t expect much out of their night, other than consoling a sad Jeonghyeon and a guilty Hanbin. Neither of them could hold their liquor for shit, so after a couple beers Taerae was sure they’d be on their merry ways home.
Until, Taerae lays eyes on him.
Oh? He muses to himself, curiosity sufficiently piqued as he tracks the brisk strides of the lucky man who caught his attention. Now what have we here?
On the shorter side, but that’s alright because Taerae’s not tall by any means, either. Soft-looking brown hair pushed out of his face and a pair of glasses resting on his nose. A white tank top so tight it’s practically sculpted to his body. When his red flannel slips off his shoulder, Taerae receives mouthwatering eyefuls of tattoos scattered across the guy’s arms.
Attractive men are a dime a dozen and hardly worth a double take. But, an attractive man passing out business cards to every bar patron in their early twenties? Either a con artist, or an entrepreneurial college student up to something.
Consider Taerae intrigued.
He waits for the cute guy to make the rounds to his table. Taerae mastered the art of subtle observation when he was in high school and crushing on a senior he knew he had no real chance with but still allowed himself to engage in his daydreams anyway; Cute Guy doesn’t notice a thing as he busies himself with passing out cards. His level of intense focus is admirable, somehow making him all the more appealing. Taerae’s always had a soft spot for both nerds and buff gym boys, and this fascinating man looks like the best of both worlds.
Finally, after speaking to seemingly everyone in the bar except for them, the Cute Guy waltzes over to their table.
“Hi,” he mutters without glancing up as he slaps a business card in front of each of them. “My best friend is a loser looking for love. Please check him out, or pass this along to someone who might be interested. Thank you, have a good rest of your night.”
Taerae parts his mouth to say something—most likely a flirty, What about you? Are you looking for love?—but the Cute Guy’s already gone, beelining to the bartenders to try his luck there.
Shame. There’s just always a catch with the cute ones, isn’t there?
Jeonghyeon’s the first to speak up following that odd exchange. “I can’t tell if this is a prank or real,” he admits, quizzically studying the front side of the card. Then he flips it to the backside and his gaze widens. “Wait, don’t you know this guy? He dances too, right?”
Hanbin glances at his own card and makes a noise of confusion. “Sung Hanbin? But I thought he’s popular; why’s he resorting to this?”
Taerae withholds his scathing commentary on popularity not necessarily equating to romantic prospects—take the tall fool sitting across from him, who has girls and boys alike throwing themselves at his feet for being hot and almost 190cm, until he opens his mouth and they realize holy shit he’s a whole ass dork—and inspects the business card for himself. For a college student, the product isn’t too bad. Taerae rather likes the color scheme and the simplicity. On the front is a picture of a smiling man—Sung Hanbin, he presumes—in an all denim outfit standing in a field of flowers. A QR code to “Check out his sexy dance vids!” sits on the right, no doubt a pathway to the bachelor’s social media. Smart, since advertising his phone number for anyone to see wouldn’t be the safest choice.
Surrounding the QR code, reads the following text:
PLEASE DATE MY BEST FRIEND
He needs a win. Please.
*Serious inquiries only. He already has no dignity and can’t take another hit*
Interesting. Between the choice of language and Cute Guy’s blunt declaration of his best friend as a loser, Taerae can’t say this Sung Hanbin is being sold particularly well. He flips the card to find two more pictures of the man. Not at all Taerae’s type, but quite handsome for those into the flower boy prince aesthetic.
The content following the bullet points sends Taerae into a fit of incredulous laughter.
ABOUT MY BEST FRIEND
⭐️Sung Hanbin
⭐️22 y/o
⭐️179.6 cm
⭐️ENFJ
⭐️Gemini
WHY HANBIN?
⭐️Big dick*
⭐️Nice
At the bottom, in fine print, reads:
*Reportedly. Customer satisfaction not guaranteed*
How interesting.
“Uh oh,” Hanbin—Park, that is—whispers to Jeonghyeon. Fear consumes his wild eyes. “Taerae’s up to no good. Should we be scared?”
“Don’t question it. Just act natural,” Jeonghyeon hisses in return, as if Taerae can’t hear every word they say.
No matter. The cogs in Taerae’s brain are too busy turning at lightning speeds, weaving together the loose threads of a plan until he’s crafted a concrete, foolproof strategy.
Here’s the thing about Taerae: He firmly believes in the thrill of the chase, and there’s no prey he enjoys hunting more than nerdy gym boys.
Here’s another thing about Taerae: He may not be interested in this Sung Hanbin fellow, but he most certainly knows someone who would be.
“Hey, hyung?” Taerae raps on the door and waits approximately five seconds before barging in uninvited.
The lump beneath the duvet stirs, and out pops a bird’s nest of reddish-purple hair. Big, inquisitive eyes peer up at him. “What?” Yawns a voice thick with sleep as its owner sits up and stretches his arms above his head.
Taerae, true to his T nature, cuts straight to the chase. “You’re a size queen, aren’t you?”
Zhang Hao blinks, now wide awake. “It’s nine in the morning on a Tuesday,” he deadpans.
“So you can’t be a size queen at nine in the morning on a Tuesday?”
“…I like being split in half. Sue me.”
“And you’re also into pathetic tops too, right?”
“I’ve walked out on men for not crying within five minutes.”
Excellent. Taerae grins and shoves the business card into his roommate’s face. “What do you think of this guy?”
Cue, Zhang Hao’s scholar mode. He brings the card close to his face, squinting at the picture of Sung Hanbin in the fitted denim outfit. After a few minutes of silent processing, he takes the magnifying glass he keeps within reach on his bedside table—right next to the silicone ruler, and yes, that’s used for exactly what you think it’s used for—and holds it over a certain asset visible in the picture.
“Not bad,” is Zhang Hao’s final verdict. Interest gleams in his sharp monolids, the smirk spreading on his lips identical to Taerae’s own. “Looks like he’d be packing at least nine inches, if not more. He’s not really your type though, so I’m assuming he’s for me?”
Has Taerae ever mentioned how much he loves his roommate? Because he does, truly. Zhang Hao is so, so, so dearly special to him. The greatest gift to mankind, delivered right to Taerae’s doorstep on that fateful spring day a year ago.
Taerae grins, confidence boosted by the swift success of Phase One. Enter, Phase Two.
“Hear me out: I know a way for both of us to get laid.”
hanbin @binbin_613
Hey
I got your business card, and you’re not my type but I have a friend who’s interested
@zhanghulu
Holy shit
He’s not a catfish right? Like, that’s a real person?
AND HE WANTS TO GO OUT WITH ME???? 😵 😵 😵
SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP
SMILING THROUGH IT ALL CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS MY LIFE
…oh god the fine print is starting to make sense now
Okay well if you want a date with Hao-hyung—which I’m assuming is a yes—he’s all yours, BUT on one condition
Please I’d do anything for him to step on me
Preferably in stilettos
JESUS CHRIST MY GUY CALM THE FUCK DOWN
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No means no.”
“Please please please please pleeeeeease?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Matthew throws his hands in the air out of exasperation, pointedly ignoring those goddamn puppy eyes Hanbin knows are his weakness. “Why do you need me there, when it’s your date?”
Hanbin’s past falling to his knees; he lies flat on his stomach, on Matthew’s janky ass carpet, clutching Matthew’s ankles in supplication, “Because I won’t have a date if you don’t show up too! Those are the terms and conditions!”
“I fail to see how this is my problem.”
Oh lord, Hanbin’s damn near crying now. “Matthew, please. The prettiest person I’ve ever seen wants to go on a date with me, but only if you go out with his friend. Would you stand in the way of my happiness? Would you? I thought you were my best friend?”
Fuck you, Sung Hanbin, Matthew seethes. Pulling the best friend card? Talk about a low blow. “I’m not gonna go out with a stranger just because you can’t score a normal date. I did all the work getting you to this point; now it’s time for you to be a big boy and take care of the rest by yourself,” he tries to reason, which is a Sisyphean task when faced with the loser of all losers.
“B-but—”
“And besides, isn’t it maybe, I dunno, a bit of a red flag that this guy won’t go on a date with you unless I go out with his friend? Does that not sound like the beginning of a bad horror movie?”
Hanbin’s lower lips wobbles. “But Zhang Hao-ssi is so pretty. He can murder me in my sleep and I’d thank him.”
Oh, that’s—that’s not—when Matthew said he was gonna help Hanbin’s hopeless cause, he never once predicted a) anyone actually hitting Hanbin up, or b) Hanbin spiraling into previously uncharted territories of Loserdom. Oh boy, what has Matthew done?
“Please. I’ll never ask anything of you again if you do this one thing for me—I swear on my mother’s life. I’ve made it this far and I seriously think I might die if I can’t meet him just once in real life. I need proof he’s real, because how can an ordinary person just look like that? He’s like, every wet dream I’ve ever had, combined into one man. His eyes! His nose! His lips! And his collarbones! God, when he sent me that picture of his bare waist as thanks for my dick pics I like, got hard instantly. I almost jerked off to his picture, but that would’ve been disrespectful so I stood in the shower for like an hour trying to will my boner away. And then he—”
“Wait a damn second,” Matthew blinks, slapping his hand over Hanbin’s mouth to shut the fool up and give himself a moment to process just what the fuck he thinks he heard. “You sent him pictures of your dick?”
Hanbin’s voice is muffled through Matthew’s hand. “Uh, yeah? He asked me if I could verify the information on the card, and I didn’t see anything wrong with that? Like, I don’t want him to think I’m a liar or anything?”
Matthew’s head isn’t so much swimming as it’s straight up drowning. “Dude. Maybe don’t send nudes to the first pretty stranger who shows interest? Hello, Internet safety 101?”
“Even when it leads to really hot phone sex?”
“Even when it leads to really hot phone sex—YOU DID WHAT?”
There’s no sugarcoating it: Matthew needs new friends. He needs to hop into a time machine and redo his dorm move in so he never befriends the seemingly normal upperclassman who offered him hot chocolate. Or, he should’ve stayed in Vancouver and lived out his life as stereotypical frat boy Matt Seok (pronounced See-ok, for the Westerners). Better yet, he never should’ve been born, because then there wouldn’t exist a possibility of him discovering his best friend sent his dick pics to a stranger and engaged in phone sex with him just because he was pretty.
And the worst part is, Hanbin won’t. Stop. Talking.
“I knew he’d have to have a nice voice too, but oh my god, Seokmae—he sounds like an angel! He was so sweet and giggly when we started the video call, but once we got into it his pitch like, dropped. He sounded so hot taking charge, telling me I was a good boy and praising me whenever I listened to him. Then he was moaning as he fingered himself and I couldn’t stop thinking how much better it would’ve been if those were my hands opening him up or how it would feel to replace that dildo—next thing I knew, I was crying and then he turned mean, calling me pathetic and a crybaby and shit, I’ve never come so hard in my life. I think I actually passed out for a few seconds, because next thing I knew he was yelling my name and asking me if I was still with him.”
Matthew wants to die. “Are you done yet?”
Hanbin’s expression is glazed over, dreamily staring off into a distance only he can see. Heaven, probably, since phone sex after a long, long dry spell seems to have helped him achieve enlightenment. Though personally, Matthew thinks Hanbin deserves a one way ticket to hell for subjecting his eternally suffering best friend to imagery he did not need to, nor want to be privy to, thank you very much.
Giggling like the absolute lovesick fool he is, Hanbin presses the heels of his hands to his cheeks and rolls on the floor kicking his feet and squealing. “And after we were done with round three—” Ew ew ew ew ew “—we stayed on the line and talked until two in the morning. I wanted him to fall asleep first so I could wish him goodnight, but he sang me a lullaby and I was out like a light. I wasn’t sure if any of that was real when I woke up, but he sent me a good morning text with a heart emoji and I screamed so loud Gyuvin thought I was dying.”
Not for the first time, Matthew looks at Hanbin and wonders, Why are you like this? But he’d be lying if he said his cold, brittle heart didn’t melt at the sheer levels of happiness radiating off his best friend.
Yeah, Hanbin’s a dumbass. Yeah, he’s a loser incapable of getting bitches on his own. Yeah, sometimes Matthew will pretend he’s never seen this man in his life when they’re out in public together and Hanbin’s in one of his hopeless romantic moods.
But also…well, he’s the greatest best friend Matthew could’ve asked for. So what if Matthew needs to lecture him on Internet safety? That’s a problem for the future; right now, he’s content to let Hanbin revel in his pre relationship bliss. If this Zhang Hao dude makes Hanbin this happy already, then what kind of friend would Matthew be to interfere?
That being said, “I’m still not going on a date with a stranger, Bin.”
Gone in a flash is Hanbin’s whippedness, replaced with the desperation from moments earlier, except exponentially worse. “Please,” he begs, crawling on his hands and knees to grab Matthew’s legs again.
“I said no, man.”
“Wait!” Hanbin leaps to his feet—it’s kinda impressive how quickly he can transition from lying flat on his stomach to standing upright. Those cat allegations may not be so far off—and lunges for his phone. His thumbs fly to click on the pink and yellow Instagram icon. “Listen, you may be saying no now, but that’s because you haven’t seen what Taerae-ssi looks like.”
Matthew lets out a derisive scoff. Just how weak does Hanbin think he is? Newsflash: Not everyone folds instantly. Some people still have pride left in them, believe it or not.
“Whatever, man. You could show me the hottest guy in the world and I’d still say n—”
Hanbin holds up his phone.
“So, what do you do in your free time?” Taerae asks, coyly tilting his head just so. He brings a forkful of pasta to his mouth and maintains eye contact as he closes his lips around the bite. When he pulls off the utensil, a smear of red sauce dots the corner of his mouth, which he swipes the tip of his tongue across to collect.
Matthew’s brain crackles pathetically. “I, erm, enjoy consuming foreign media of a two dimensional medium detailing the trials and tribulations of young people fighting against injustice and unlocking their inner potential.”
(Anime. He watches shōnen anime)
Taerae delicately dabs at invisible sauce stains with his napkin, smudging his thin coating of lip gloss in the process. “Oh, really?” He remarks in amusement. “Then can I assume you’re also into the graphic novels? And figure collecting?”
“Um,” Matthew increases the pressure on his crossed legs. “Tell me what inspired you to set up Hanbin with Zhang Hao-ssi, again?”
So. Matthew may have overlooked a few crucial details about himself. His weakness for dimples, for one. His thing for pretty collarbones exposed by deep V necks, for two. His propensity to lose approximately eighty percent of his brain cells when seated across from cute boys, for three.
Not to mention, his perennial state of bitchlessness despite making fun of Hanbin for the same damn thing, for the final kicker.
Now, Matthew would not refer to himself as a loser. He’s not Hanbin or Gyuvin, puh-lease. But the truth is, he’s not exactly drowning in prospects, either. Pre-med responsibilities destroy just about any chance he has of casual dating, and as previously established, modern romance isn’t easy to navigate. So, Matthew doesn’t get around much. Or at all, if he’s being honest. Not for a while, that’s for sure.
A cute, witty, and seductive guy with bouncy hair and a smile big enough to put the sun out of business, may juuuuuust be a bit out of his realm of what he can handle.
Thankfully, Taerae lets him off easy on the weeb exposure front. “Hao-hyung’s been complaining about being lonely for a while, and I could tell your friend would be his type.”
Nice. This sounds like fairly safe territory. Matthew lifts his glass of water to his lips and says, “Oh, so he’s into like, the boy next door type?”
“No. He’s interested because you said Hanbin-ssi has a big dick.”
Water spews out of Matthew’s mouth, narrowly missing Taerae but landing on an unfortunate target sitting at the table directly to their left.
“Seokmae!” A drenched Hanbin yelps, staring at his wet shirt in horror, the bite of pizza Zhang Hao had been about to feed him forgotten. “W-what was that for?”
Matthew cringes. “Sorry, I swear that was an accident.”
Hanbin pouts. “I liked this shirt,” he mumbles, taking a handful of napkins to fruitlessly wipe at the white fabric.
Zhang Hao, evidently, has a better idea. “Why don’t we go to the bathroom? We can try and use the hand dryer to speed up the process,” He suggests, unable to peel his gaze off the sheer material clinging to Hanbin’s abs. Judging by the lilt to his voice and the deliberate manner in which he licks his lips, it’s not exactly a matter of keeping Hanbin’s clothes on he’s interested in.
Not that Hanbin’s protesting, since he’s more than happy to trot after Zhang Hao like a lost puppy. Matthew wants to roll his eyes—it’s just water, for crying out loud. And Hanbin’s not that soaked, if he’s being real. His shirt would’ve air dried perfectly fine if he’d waited ten minutes.
Oh well. Might as well have some fun at Hanbin’s expense, then.
“Ten thousand won says your friend blows Hanbin in the bathroom,” Matthew grins, snatching a crisp bill from his wallet to place on the table.
“Please,” Taerae sneers at the money like it personally offended him and his mother. “Hao-hyung is way too classy to get on his knees for the first date. Just who do you think he is?”
Matthew freezes. Fuck, he’s gone and done it now. Hanbin’s been nagging at him for ages now saying he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t think before speaking, but of course Matthew didn’t listen because why would he? Hastily, he clambers to retract the money and searches for a decent apology to express the basic sentiment of, I am so sorry I made assumptions about your friend, that will never happen again please don’t hate me.
“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to insinuate—”
A warm weight closes over Matthew’s hand, gently applying just the right amount of pressure to convey reassurance. Despite their similar heights, Taerae’s hand is much bigger than Matthew’s, with a wider palm and surprisingly long fingers. Distantly, Matthew registers the rough callouses dancing on the pads of fingertips touching his wrist. Guitar? Matthew dabbles in the bass on occasion and remembers the blisters that would form if he didn’t take a break. What if they play together one day? He thinks he’d like to hear Taerae sing; with a voice that deep and soothing, Taerae could sing the phonebook and Matthew would be hooked.
It’s in that low, melodic voice, that Taerae’s mouth curls upwards in a mischievous smile as he says, “I bet your friend bends Hao-hyung over the sink and fucks him stupid.”
“Christ almighty,” Matthew wheezes pitifully.
(If his pants tighten, he can only thank the gods Hanbin’s too preoccupied going to town with his date in a public bathroom to laugh at him)
Regretfully, Taerae removes his hand after a few seconds, leaving Matthew to internally weep at the loss of warmth. Taerae reclines in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. He lifts his chin to study Matthew with a grin that isn’t lofty, per se, but definitely makes Matthew feel like a quivering chihuahua in the face of a lion. Peculiarly, Matthew doesn’t mind one bit.
“Do you not remember me?” Taerae hums at last, tapping his index finger against his upper arm.
You think I could forget you? “Um, no? Sorry, but did we meet before?”
Taerae shakes his head in disappointment. He’s playing it up for the dramatics, obviously, but Matthew’s stomach plummets to his ass all the same at the mere notion of failing this man he just met an hour ago.
“You gave me a business card, idiot. How do you think I set Hanbin-ssi up with Hao-hyung again?” Taerae chides.
“Oh. Right.”
“I was having such a boring night at the bar with my friends, when I noticed a cute guy walking around handing out business cards. You know how long you kept me waiting until you came to us? I was starting to think you were ignoring us on purpose!”
Truthfully, Matthew hit up multiple bars that night. There were an abundance of student bars within a one mile radius of campus, and he lost count after the fourth or fifth. Hell, he may have gone to a few of them more than once. He has no way of recalling which bar Taerae was at or even a ballpark estimate of what time they met, and yet he wants to kick himself for not paying closer attention.
If he’d known there was a pretty boy with a brilliant smile interested in him, he would’ve ditched his operation in a heartbeat. Uttered a remorseless, Sorry, Hanbin-hyung, but I tried to the sky and tossed the business cards in the trash. He would’ve asked if he could buy the pretty boy a drink, and they would’ve exchanged playful banter back and forth before finally sharing their names. Matthew’s shit at darts, but he would’ve suggested a round or two just so he could admire Taerae’s furrowed glare of concentration. How late would they have stayed? Surely until the early hours of the morning, way past when Taerae’s friends left them with exaggerated winks and lewd hand gestures. And then Matthew would walk Taerae home because his mother drilled the importance of basic chivalry into him at a young age, and he wouldn’t have been presumptuous enough to expect a kiss but hopefully he’d have gathered the courage to ask for Taerae’s number. He’d text Taerae good night when he got home safely, and in the morning he’d skip to his 8 AM physics lecture with his head in the clouds giddily replaying the events of the previous night.
Funny, isn’t it, how fate—or is it intervention?—works in mysterious ways.
Sheepishly, Matthew smiles at Taerae in a plea for forgiveness. If he plays his cards right, he won’t squander this second chance destiny kindly ordained him.
“I was a man on a serious mission?” He says in what is possibly the lamest excuse he could’ve thought of.
“A serious mission to get your best friend laid?”
“He really, really needed a win.”
“And what about you?”
“Me? What about me?”
There’s that smirk again, deliciously flirtatious and all-knowing. “Well?” Taerae rests his elbows on the table and beckons Matthew closer with a crook of his finger. “Are you in need of a win?”
Here’s the thing about Matthew: He loves a good challenge.
Here’s another thing about Matthew: He’d willingly lose every time, if it means he’ll get to see those dimples again.
“I think I’m already winning.”
Taerae blinks, and for a moment his composure breaks to reveal something a little bashful, cheeks tinted in an endearingly shy fluster. He doesn’t quite blush, but he can’t hide the pleased set to his lips as he murmurs a quiet, “I’ve underestimated you, Seok Matthew.”
Here’s one last thing about Matthew: Those are perhaps his favorite words to hear.
Just as quickly as Taerae’s facade falls, however, it emerges again stronger than before with a single flickering glance over Matthew’s shoulder. Triumph oozes from his voice as he jerks his chin and says, “Hmm, would you look at that. Poor Hao-hyung’s not gonna be able to walk properly for a few days.”
Matthew scratches his neck in confusion. Zhang Hao? What’s he got to do with—hold the fuck up.
He whips around so fast his chair clatters to the floor, but Matthew can’t be bothered to pick it up or care about the judgmental stares aimed at him. Not when Hanbin—his best friend Hanbin, the upstanding moral citizen Hanbin, the goody two shoes Hanbin—is fucking princess carrying an entirely too smug Zhang Hao out of the restroom. Both of them wield swollen lips and blown pupils. Hanbin’s tear stains glisten under the lights of the restaurant. Between the two of them, Zhang Hao is clearly worse for wear, what with his untucked shirt, ruined hair, enormous hickey on his neck, and oh yeah, the fact that he’s hanging off Hanbin like a clingy koala in the middle of a busy restaurant.
God. Matthew does not know them. He has never seen them in his life. Sung Hanbin and Zhang Hao, who? Less than strangers, as far as Matthew’s concerned.
Mortified, Matthew sighs and pushes the ten thousand won note to Taerae’s side of the table. “Here. Buy some bleach for your eyes while you’re at it.”
Taerae arches a disdainful brow. “I’m sorry, but when did I say I was betting money?”
Come to think of it, he never did state his wager. Matthew shrugs, grateful he gets to hold onto his cash (as a broke student, every little bit counts) and asks Taerae what he’d like as his spoils of victory, in that case.
He should’ve known better than to let his guard down.
“Go on a second date with me,” Taerae declares, yet he holds his breath as he awaits an answer.
Matthew’s heart hammers traitorously within the confines of his ribcage. “I think I can do that,” he promises, and Taerae’s smile in response is easily the best sight he’s ever seen.
Fuck it, Matthew decides, marching to Taerae’s side of the table and planting his hands on the narrow shoulders he’d ogled throughout the date. Screw fate and intervention—sometimes, all that’s left is to be bold.
He’s just closed his eyes, when a singular finger blocks his lips in their path.
“Ah,” Taerae tuts. Smoothly, he brushes off Matthew’s grip and rises to his feet, opening his wallet and tossing a few bills on the table to cover their meal. “Sorry, but I don’t kiss on the first date. If you manage to impress me next time I might spare you a peck on the cheek, though.”
Matthew stares blankly at him. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Taerae merely winks. “Goodnight, Matthew. Oh, and by the way...”
Lips ghost against his ear, whispering words that force Matthew to sit his ass down in the seat Taerae previously occupied. Satisfied, Taerae offers Matthew a pat to the head and a gentle laugh, then saunters over to relieve Hanbin of his passenger. He tosses Zhang Hao over his shoulder like a sack of flour and disappears into the night with one final, parting wave.
“Matthew?” Hanbin says. “Are you okay? You look kinda funny.”
“Says you, exhibitionist,” Matthew spits out a retort that reduces Hanbin to a flaming red puddle of pathetic top.
In his mind, however, he can only hear a sultry, teasing simper that will inevitably haunt his dreams for the rest of time.
I also like my men pathetic.