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Small talk and laughter, music and bright lights, and a boy who can’t help but say alright.
That’s how Riwoo got persuaded by his friend, with very minimal effort, to tag along to this party. He wanted a change of pace, maybe, instead of just rotting in his bed another weekend with assignments piling up, and watching his roommate go out and have fun once again. He wouldn’t say he’s jealous of Leehan’s social life, because compared to him, Riwoo doesn’t need more people than he can count on his fingers. More people in his life means he’d have more to also keep at arm’s length, and he’d prefer not to do so.
Though college has started and Riwoo hasn’t made much progress on his social life, contrary to his promise with Leehan 4 months ago. It’s not like he doesn’t want to socialize either, but there’s also no telltale drive for him to do so.
Up until Leehan asked him if he wanted to come along on this Friday night, it’s almost like he sensed Riwoo’s mopiness filling up their shared room.
So here he is, awkwardly standing by the drinks' table in Taesan’s place, Riwoo assumes because Leehan couldn’t stop mentioning him during their walk, that he’s been throwing parties ever since the semester started and Leehan has gone to every single one of them. He has never seen Leehan this hyperfixated on another human being before, each night Leehan comes back to their place and he spends an extra two hours talking on the phone with his special someone, a special guy , not like the gender matters though.
What matters is that they’ve been doing this for so long and Riwoo still hasn’t got a grasp on how Taesan looks like. All he knows is that they’re both sickeningly sweet for each other even on call, their honeyed laughter is beginning to fill up all the spots on Leehan’s side of the room. It’s smearing onto the walls, and oozing gradually to Riwoo’s side.
Taesan this, Taesan that, is all that comes out of Leehan nowadays. The borderline sleepless nights Riwoo had to endure because of them, he could only let out a huff of faux annoyance when his name came up during their walk again. Taesan who can’t help but care too much about Leehan even within the confines of the phone screen and Leehan who loses all sense of time when it comes to Taesan, it’s cute, they’re admirable.
Riwoo makes a mental note to tell Taesan all about his outsider point of view and burdens when they finally meet, just as something to hold against him, for joking’s sake. Though, he’s glad his friend is not letting whatever feelings he’s garnered for Taesan go to waste. He’d never want Leehan to not be happy after all the highs and lows they’ve been through long before college. Long before Riwoo had a sense of self and Leehan was a kid too kind for his own good.
Riwoo snaps back to reality as a group of cool students come into his vicinity, he’s down to socialize but if a whole clique comes, that’s pretty nerve-wracking. He gulps a seed of worry and embarrassment down his throat, bracing himself for forthcoming human interaction.
In the end, he realized he’s standing by, of course, the drinks' table, so they just wanted to get some of the concoction from the pitcher rather than start a conversation. Embarrassed by his own train of thought, he shuffled out of the space the group of students invaded, to try and settle down somewhere instead of just standing idly. Sitting idly sounds more appealing.
Through the sea of swerving bodies, he stumbles upon an unclaimed beanbag, which he plopped down on immediately. His red cup almost spills from the sudden movement.
It’s actually not that bad, the party that is, it’s exactly what Riwoo expected how a party would be like. Loud and vibrant, and definitely reeking of sweat, with all the bodies huddled up with each other on the main dance floor - the living room.
A disco ball hangs above not in place of but along with a fancy chandelier, he assumes Taesan couldn’t find a way to take it down so he just hung the ball next to it. There’s strings of fairy lights that look like they’re more suitable for Christmas than for a run-of-the-mill party, running across the railings on the second floor. Multiple rooms with “off-limits” signs, supposedly self-designed because there’s an emo band aesthetic passion screaming from them.
And just as Riwoo’s eyes are trained on the crowd in front of him for no apparent reason, he caught sight of Leehan dancing with another guy. Riwoo assumes it’s Taesan. He’s tall enough to tower over Leehan, brooding, and all-dark, a menace at first sight, definitely not the apple of your mama’s eye kind of guy. Yet the stars in his eyes hide away under an upturned crescent, and a manifestation of Leehan’s own happiness evident in Taesan’s gummy, moonlit smile.
His hold, their embrace, on each other is firm but gentle, akin to trapping a firefly in your palms without it getting hurt. So they could continue basking each other’s fluorescence, nurturing each other’s glow. With each second passing by, Riwoo could understand why Leehan was entranced.
It’s weird. They’re dancing to the same music ringing in Riwoo’s head, but it’s as if they’re in a waltz at the world’s end dancehall, where nothing else matters more than the closing space between their bodies until their lips collide with one another. Starved but relieved.
Soon enough Taesan is leading Leehan somewhere, and Riwoo sees them discreetly venture into one of the “ off-limits' rooms. Riwoo swears he could still see their faint glow lingering at the blank spot where they just were, slowly being taken over by the twenty other bodies in this room. Riwoo also feels something in him leaving with them, maybe admiration, or a sense of belonging, to someone. It’s like something deep in his darkest parts was ripped out and stolen, but it also has never been there. It’s numb where it sits, and numb even when it’s gone.
Looking down, he could see his reflection on the alcoholic drink on his hands, quietly rippling with uncertainty, and muddled, an amalgamation of all the years he’s lived his life. It’s transparent and hollow at the same time, blank but uncolored. It also stings when Riwoo tries to fight it. A burning sensation that’s hard to stomach and it would resurface everytime he gets rid of it.
How do people drink this stuff? Riwoo grimaces as he tears away from the cup, failing to hold his sip for more than two seconds, deflated. He puts the drink down on the wooden floor next to him, barely hidden so that no one would accidentally trip over it.
His eyes wander again, struggling to find a spot to peacefully go out of focus, into the fars of his mind. They dart from the front to the left corner, and then back to the front, almost hyper aware of his surroundings, in case a stranger was judging him for not being able to handle his alcohol.
And he wasn’t wrong, as he noticed some guy staring at him in his peripheral vision. Riwoo knew the tingling on his back was unusual, since he always gets them when someone’s talking smack about him.
He tries to make it not so obvious that he’s aware of the pair of eyes boring into his skull. But he suddenly got an irresistible urge to pay him back, catch him off guard because someone has never been taught by their mother to not stare at random people, much less a solitary college partygoer.
So he waits in solitude for an extra moment and then he abruptly snaps toward the guy who was staring at him, sending him a death glare. To Riwoo’s dismay, the guy was already back to just talking to his friends, completely unaware of the whole mental warfare Riwoo just went through.
His gaze lingers on the brown-haired boy for a bit longer than he anticipated and he takes in all of his details inevitably, from head to toe. The way his hair dims a saturated blend of yellow and purple lights like a crowned halo among the group. His face is on the rounder side, no jagged curves, and his cheeks are puffed up when his lips curve into a small “o” with all of his bided words. His undivided attention and light nods while listening to his friends, a small chuckle here and there out of secondhand embarrassment; a faux slap on their shoulder as he revels in joy, before sinking back down from his high. He stands out to Riwoo.
Riwoo and his quiet anticipation of something he could never put his finger on. Something proudly treading on his grandiose delusions. It’s going to be unrelenting yet taciturn. He hopes it will come crashing at him and paint every edge of his blank canvas until he feels the flowers blooming their colors in his chest.
And maybe in the single moment when his glare softens as he realizes what that something is. A small glint of vulnerability in the unnamed boy’s eyes Riwoo never had the chance to own. He’s locked idly in the middle of some group conversation, but through the cracks of air their eyes meet.
How the tables have turned. He’s smiling at Riwoo, amusingly, deeply, while the conversation goes on. He mouths something to the group and starts heading towards Riwoo, drowning out all the other voices ringing in his head. Some galaxies away an undiscovered star dies to Riwoo’s cosmic boredom. Its explosion is violent and bewildering with every closer step the boy takes. It bursts and morphs into a future less gray and dull than the present, laying itself bare in front of Riwoo.
“Hey.” An unfamiliar voice, yet soothing to his ears. It bounces off the hollows of Riwoo’s chest, as he looks up at the figure in front of him.
“ Hi.” Riwoo replies, flaws in all his nerves.
“ You’ve been staring at me for a while, interested? ” He grins boyishly, as if he’s confident he could uproot all of Riwoo’s being right now. And maybe he could. Maybe there’s a higher force in alliance pulling at Riwoo’s heartstrings too, shaking his mellow resolve.
“Yeah.” Is all he could let out in a spell, before he realized he was holding his breath. He wanted to say something else, something cooler, something that wouldn’t make him seem average or lame. Something that could make him stand out more like his pink hair that he dyed on a whim. Something akin to a good first impression.
But maybe it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t. Not this time. All he needs is a flash of real emotion behind his front curtains and he’ll get to see the ending of his own story.
“I’m Sanghyeok, what about you?”
“ Jaehyun, Myung Jaehyun.”
Their names shimmer and reverberate in this lifetime again. What happens next is up to divine intervention to split them apart, for them to find each other once more.