Work Text:
There’s a guy who you always see in the elevator when you leave for work. Not every day, but three or four times a week, he’ll stumble out of his unit after you, always flustered and half out of breath, wrestling with a jacket or strugglingto get the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. You think you’ve seen him around your apartment complex for a while: lingering outside the door in a school uniform, sorting through envelopes at the mailbox, holding bags of groceries while waiting for the elevator.
At first, it was annoying having to share the cramped space with someone who was always nervous fidgeting and bouncing from side to side when you just wanted to finish your coffee in as much silence as possible. Later, you get used to his presence and stop scowling as much when you hear him rush out the door, asking you to hold the lift.
“You should set an alarm to wake up earlier if you’re always going to be late,” you tell him one day, blowing away the coffee-scented steam above your thermos. He winces, slightly flustered.
“Yeah, I do, I just oversleep it a lot. Or I don’t feel like getting up so I lie in bed until I’m in a rush. It’s a bad habit, I should try and break it.”
You hum, taking another sip of your coffee. “Yeah. I do that on my days off.”
He looks at you. “Really? How do you not do it when you’ve got work?”
You shrug. “I think about how my boss is going to fire me if I’m tardy too many times and that kind of scares me into action.”
The elevator dings, announcing you’ve reached the lobby. You cap your thermos and nod at him on your way out.
A week later, both of you step outside at the same time and wait for the elevator is sleepy silence. “I tried thinking about getting fired, like you said,” he says, hefting the backpack he’s wearing. “It worked.”
You snort. “Kinda depressing that we have to do that to wake up, y’know?”
He laughs quietly, stepping onto the elevator as it arrives. “Kinda, I guess. Couldn’t sleep?”
“Insomnia. You?”
“I keep getting hurt on dungeon raids.” He rubs his arm as if remembering a ghostly injury. “The healers are always nice enough to help, but it does take a lot of energy, so I sleep a lot.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Hunter? That’s pretty cool.”
“Not really. I’m only an E-rank, so…” He trails off. “What about you?”
You gesture at your uniform and the scratched hard hat attached to your bag. “Construction. No magic powers, sorry.”
“Ah. Cool,” he says, despite construction not being a cool job at all. The elevator chimes and opens to the world. “See you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, as it happens, is your day off, so you sleep in until the afternoon and do a load of laundry.
“I missed you yesterday!” exclaims your neighbor when you are, once again, waiting for the elevator. “Did you get sick?”
“No, just had a day off,” you say.
“Oh.” He scratches his cheek. “I got worried that you got hurt or something.”
“Says the Hunter,” you respond, turning your head to look at him properly as the two of you enter the elevator. He looks young, maybe a year or two out of high school. The bandages on his face and peeking out of his sleeves could be from getting bullied or falling down the stairs just as well as fantastic monsters in magic dungeons.
A hand creeps up to pat round his mouth when he notices you observing him. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Nah,” you say, gulping the rest of your morning coffee. “Just thinking your hair looks kinda floppy.”
“Floppy?” His hands go up to feel.
“Don’t worry about it. Kind of cute, makes you look young,” you say, then instantly regret your words.
“I’m twenty-three,” he mutters, smoothing down some of the curly bits in the back. You blink.
“For real?”
He gives you a funny look. “Yeah, for real. Why?”
“I’m twenty-one.”
He looks at you for a second and laughs. You laugh too. Compared to him, you’re six or eight centimeters taller and probably a few kilos heavier.
“I thought you were like, thirty!”
“I thought you were in high school still,” you say. “You’re going to get carded when you’re middle aged.”
“It’s the hair,” he says. “Your hair—the bleached part makes you look older.”
“Not the piercings?” You point to your ears. “I’ve always thought it was mostly these?”
“Those too,” he says. He smiles at you and walks backward out of the elevator.
“So, how’s my favorite hyungnim doing?” you greet him the next week.
He gives you an exasperated look when he sees your shiteating grin. “You don’t have to call me that.”
“But it’s polite to address your seniors respectfully,” you say, stepping inside and sticking an arm out to hold the doors open while he gets in. He huffs.
“I don’t care about how you address me,” he says. “Just Jinwoo is fine.”
“That’s your name?”
“Sung Jinwoo, yeah. What’s yours?”
You introduce yourself. “It's weird to think we’ve just been going about this in the morning for a couple months and only now exchange names.”
“Not really a neighborly person either?” he asks. “Me neither. My mom did all of this stuff, I’d just hold the grocery bags and stay quiet.”
“Good luck on your raiding today,” you say as the doors slide open.
“You too! Don’t get hurt!” Jinwoo waves at you as he dashes outside for his bus.
-
You start spending more time together after that. He texts you pictures of silly ads he sees on his commute around the city, you update him on construction a la “how many workers does it take to install a single window?” You pick up his mail, he invites you over for dinner where you discover, to your delight, you share the same taste in K-dramas as his younger sister.
You pop over to borrow a handful of bean sprouts and he gives you three shiitake mushrooms because they don’t have anything else. You start running into Jinah when she comes home after hanging out with friends and strike up casual conversation with her too.
One day, months after you’ve safely settled into “friends” territory, Jinwoo texts you to ask if you can check up on Jinah while he’s away at a gate.
JW (9:37am): Jinah’s got a fever so if you could check that she’s not like passed out or anything when you get back from work I’d rlly appreciate it
JW (9:37am): key under the doormat
You (9:38am): isnt that kinda dangerous to keep a spare key somewhere so obv?
JW (9:40am): its only for today
JW (9:40am): if you could get her to take some medicine that would be great too, I left it on the counter
You (9:41am): yea I can do that
JW (9:41am): thank you so much, ill buy you dinner sometime as thanks
JW (9:41am): gtg raid starting
You (9:42am): be careful!!!!!!
You persuade your boss to let you leave work early. He doesn’t put up much of a fuss, seeing as it’s been cold and rainy and nobody’s really been able to get much done all day. “Rest up and come ready to work tomorrow,” he says, clapping a hand on your shoulder and shooing you home.
Nobody answers when you knock on Jinwoo’s door. You try again before giving up and using the key that is, indeed, under the doormat. The apartment is dark and has the distinct “sick person” feel: curtains drawn, rumpled blanket fort on the couch, TV on but volume low.
“Jinah, your brother asked me to come check on you,” you say, toeing off your shoes and setting the bag of groceries on the counter next to a box of fever medicine. It looks untouched.
You fill up a glass with water and start untwisting the blankets. “Come on, swallow these for me.” Jinah sticks a hand out, looking miserable. You fight back a laugh. “I’ll make dinner, okay? Finish the water,” you add, going back to the kitchen.
“I hate being sick,” Jinah complains. You rustle around the groceries, lining up ingredients on the counter.
“I do, too. Where do you keep your pots?” You open a cupboard. No, that’s cups again. “Never mind, I found them.”
Jinah watches you open a can of SPAM and start cutting it into chunks. “What are you making?”
“Whatever soup, put whatever you want in a pot and boil until it’s soupy. Do you want ramyun or rice?” You throw a handful of cabbage into the pot and start adding the other stuff on top.
“Ramyun.” Jinah gets up, blanket trailing after her, and opens a drawer. “This one, this is the best one. Buldak’s been going viral and like, yeah, it’s good, but Shin’s a classic for a reason. What’s in the soup?” You take the package from her.
“Whatever you want. As long as there’s kimchi and some kind of broth it comes out tasting okay. Do you want an egg?”
“Yes please.” She climbs up onto one of the barstools and watches you throw some kimchi in. “Looks like army stew or kimchi jjigae.”
“Close enough. Everyone likes kimchi jjigae and army stew.” You start to cap the jar of kimchi and reach for the tofu.
“Put more than that! Kimchi is good for when you’re sick.”
You obey, emptying most of the pretty empty jar in. “Really?”
“Yeah. Something about fermented stuff or whatever.” She pokes through the rest of the groceries. “Can I have this? The chrysanthemum tea?”
“Yeah, I bought most of the stuff for you. Rehydrate yourself,” you say, pouring water into the pot.
“You make it sound like I’m some kind of sponge,” she says. “Oh, citron tea too? You’re the best, my brother always makes me drink omija tea and it always tastes bad.”
“Noted,” you say. “I won’t get that next time.”
“We have tea bags somewhere if you want a drink,” she says, looking remarkably better. “I don’t want to infect you as well.”
“I’ll be fine,” you say, inspecting the barely-bubbling pot. “Go take a hot shower or something, it’ll make you feel better.”
“But the food…”
“The food can wait,” you say, ripping the ramyun seasoning packet open and almost spilling it all over yourself. “At least wash your face or something, you’ll feel a lot better.”
“Okayyy.” Jinah goes off down the hallway and you hear the shower running. You get to chopping spring onions and digging out soup bowls and spoons.
By the time Jinah reemerges, looking damp but less congested, you’ve ladled two bowls of noodles, SPAM, and whatever leftover vegetables you could find in the fridge. She looks delighted, poking the half-poached egg you cracked over the top.
“Looks great!”
You take a few minutes to tidy up and and wash the cutting board before you join her on the couch. “What’s this show?”
“It’s a movie,” Jinah says, eyes glued to the screen. “His family’s rich and his mom wants him to marry this other stuck up girl, but he wants to follow his dreams because he fell in love with— Him! That’s the love interest.”
“So, just like every other good drama film,” you say, settling down and pulling up your phone to text Jinwoo.
You (6:38pm): sister medicated and watered. Eating dinner rn
Jinah gives you an exasperated look you pretend not to notice. “Yeah, but there’s a reason why they’re all so good!”
“I’m not arguing with you,” you say, slurping your noodles as the protagonist finishes his passionate outburst and rushes out of his family mansion to seek his true love. “Just pointing it out.”
You keep watching, halfway through your bowl, until you’re distracted by your phone vibrating.
JW (7:08pm): thank you!
JW (7:08pm): raid just finished, eta 7:45ish?
Jinah puts her empty bowl on the coffee table and curls up in her blanket again. “Tell my brother you’re the better person to have around when sick,” she says. “You make better food.”
“How do you know it’s him I’m messaging? Did he tell you?”
“Please,” Jinah says, rolling her eyes. “Even if he didn’t, who else would it be?” You roll your eyes back at her.
You (7:16pm): Jinah likes me better bc I can cook
JW (7:18pm): somehow i burn water so im not shocked haha
You snort. “Is it true your brother can’t cook?”
“Oh yeah. He’s hopeless,” Jinah says, eyes closed. The movie’s music builds, the protagonist running up and down the streets searching for his lover. “Did he tell you about the time he forgot salt in the japchae?”
“Wait, really? He didn’t say that.”
“Yeah, well, it’s happened before. Multiple times.” Jinah opens an eye. “I bet he wanted you to think he was cool.”
“He’s a Hunter, shouldn’t that default him as cool?” You think. “I don’t really keep up with the Hunter stuff.”
Jinah sits up and pauses the movie. “He’s called ‘the weakest Hunter’ for a reason, you know. He’ll come back all beat up and bandaged tonight and then—”
“Then what?” Jinwoo says. “I’m back.”
“Welcome back,” Jinah says. “How was work?”
“Don’t change the subject, I want to know what you were about to say,” Jinwoo says, kicking his shoes off. “I’m not all banged up, the healer took care of me before I left.”
“So you did get hurt,” Jinah says, then dodges his hand grabbing for her. “Hey! You can’t hit me, I’m sick!”
You laugh. Jinwoo gives up trying to catch Jinah and behind unpacking his bag, taking out his water bottle and leaving the bag by his chair at the dining table. “Oh, you cooked?”
“He did! And it’s a whole lot better than the stuff you make,” Jinah says, popping her head over the couch.
“Sorry, there’s not any more noodles,” you say, pushing yourself up and bringing the dirty bowls to put in the sink. “I didn’t want them to get soggy, so I ate the rest. I can make another packet if you want?”
“No, I can’t trouble you any more,” Jinwoo says. “Thanks for bringing over groceries and everything, I’ll pay you back. How much was it?”
You smack his hands away from his wallet. “Stop that, you don’t have to pay me anything. Just let me be a good neighbor.”
Jinwoo gives a few more protests that you don’t listen to before bodily pushing you out of the way. “At least let me do the dishes.”
You drop the sponge and raise your hands in surrender. Jinah laughs. “You know, we should just start paying for groceries and have oppa come and cook for us,” she says, hanging backwards off the couch.
“That would be imposing,” Jinwoo says, rinsing the leftover gravy down the sink.
"I don’t mind, actually. It gets kind of lonely eating by myself all the time.”
“See?” Jinah says from her perch at the counter. “He doesn’t mind! And you’re always saying we should eat healthier but keep buying takeout on the way home, so…” She gives him a pout. “It just makes sense.”
“It really won’t be any trouble,” you say. “As long as you do the dishes after.”
“Fine,” Jinwoo groans. “I should have never introduced you two, you’re going to gang up on me about everything from now on.” You and Jinah laugh.
-
Jinwoo strongarms you into letting him pay for two-thirds of the groceries on days you come over. Jianh loves spicy chicken and squid, Jinwoo won’t eat anything with the bitter dotorimuk jelly but can’t resist a good bossam. You tease that he still hasn’t grown out of the childish dislike for bitterness with Jinah and he retorts with some quippy comeback about how you drink too much based on the number of times you’ve brought a can of beer or two over to have with dinner.
You start bringing your good knife over to use and eventually it gets its own personal home in the knife drawer. Jinwoo starts buying the brand of gochujang you swear by instead of the other one that lives in their fridge. Jinah makes a new group chat with all of you in it and insists you take a selfie together to set as the group’s profile. You text about dinner, random videos you see on the internet, what movies are good at the theatre that you should all watch the next time you come over.
An old auntie catches you on your way back from work and gives you a sack of snow pears from her son in the countryside to “share with that young man and his sister who live next door to you, I know you’re good friends.” You take turns sweeping the hallway and exchange keys just in case something happens. Jinah insists you sit in the center of the couch for movie nights. Jinwoo keeps falling asleep on your shoulder and apologizing when he wakes up.
Group Chat: Jinah + Oppa x2
You (2:41pm): work cancelled tomorrow
Jinah (2:53pm): yayy!!
You (3:10pm): im going in early to help out. And get free coffee
You (3:11pm): so jinwoo will have to brave the elevator alone :(
Jinah (3:16pm): 😔
JW (4:12pm): Jinah pay attention in class
Jinah (4:15pm): finished all my work alr!!
-
The truck that rolls around with concessions is parked out front, but it’s got no insulation and the panel in the side needs to be open for safe usage of the stove, so you shiver in silence and wait for the water to boil. The construction site’s closed due to a gate that opened in the middle of the unfinished building, but you jumped at the chance to get paid for coming in and loafing around. What your boss didn’t say before you volunteered was that you had to come in at the asscrack of dawn.
The old man who drives the truck and serves boxed lunches chuckles. “Youngsters,” he says, shaking out a bag of coffee grounds. You groan and drop the handful of sugar packets you were holding all over the counter.
“It’s way too early to be up.”
He laughs some more and gestures for you to move one of the full carafes to the window. The construction site fills up soon enough. Not nearly as bustling as it would be if construction was in full swing, but a small group of Hunters, supporting and backup personnel, and construction supervisors evacuating large pieces of equipment gathers around to chat and have a hot drink before beginning work in earnest.
The uncle begins slicing bread for sandwiches, frying omlettes on the griddle, and directing you to start assembling vegetables on the toast. You listen the the gossip with one ear, the other paying attention to the timer on the coffee machine.
“We’re out of coffee grounds,” you say. “Just put the last of them in to brew.”
“If they’re late, they’re late,” the uncle says, chopping a sandwich in half with a grunt. “Too bad.”
Since the crow’s died down a little, most people nursing a second up of coffee or having a smoke a few steps away. You step out of the truck with a ham and egg sandwich and sit within earshot of a couple of middle aged men and start eating.
“Sorry, Hunter Sung Jinwoo,” the other worker says from behind you. “We just ran out of coffee.”
“It’s okay,” a familiar voice sighs.
You pop your head up. “Jinwoo?”
“Oh. Hi!” Jinwoo trots over and drags a crate to sit. “I didn’t expect to see you here!”
“I work here. Got called in to help hand out food.” you say. “Do you want a sandwich?”
“I’m good,” he says. “I wanted some coffee, but they ran out.”
“If I knew you were coming, I would have delayed brewing the last bag of grounds.” You offer him a bottle of water, but he shakes his head.
Jinwoo sets his backpack down. “It’s fine, you didn’t know.”
You crumple the wax paper that was around your sandwich and shove it in your pocket. “Raiding?”
“Yeah. The Hunter’s Guild got a bunch of us together to clear the gate so the construction could continue.”
“The Dungeon’s weak as hell if he’s here,” the men behind you say. Jinwoo avoids your eyes.
“Sorry,” he says.
“What are you apologizing for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” You stretch your legs out and yawn. “Cheer up, any Hunter’s stronger than I am.”
Jinwoo doesn’t say anything and doesn’t meet your eyes. “Yeah.”
“Come back safe, okay?” You say, standing up. “I’ll buy you a drink if you don’t get too bashed up.”
“Thanks,” Jinwoo says, looking a little up. “If I do get hurt, I’ll watch whatever K-drama you and Jinah decide on without complaining.”
“Really?” You stick out your hand. “Shake on it.”
“Gather round, we’re heading in soon!” someone shouts. “Hunters!”
“Good luck, don’t get hurt,” you say. He smiles.
“I’ll do my best!”
-
After coming home from the dungeon site, you crashed into bed and slept most of the day, exhaustion from insomnia the night before outweighing the caffeine from the coffee. It’s seven in the evening when you get up and realize you haven’t heard a peep from Jinwoo. Should you go knock?
You end up outside his door and hesitantly rap your fingers against it twice. Jinah swings it open a minute later with a phone pressed to her ear. “Sorry, Eunhae, there’s someone at the door.” She looks at you. “Hi!”
“Has Jinwoo come back yet?”
“Not right now,” she says, pulling out her phone to check for messages. The lockscreen lights up with a picture of them smiling together along with two adults; her parents, you assume. “My brother’s home late a lot, though. He went on a dungeon raid today, so he’ll probably be delayed again.”
“Oh, cool. Thanks, sorry to bother you.” You nod at her and turn to leave. “I just thought it was later than usual, that’s all.” She catches your sleeve before you go.
“Do you want to come in and wait for him?” she asks. “We could catch up on the latest episodes of Wedding Impossible, since Jinwoo isn’t here to complain.”
Although you would like to wait for Jinwoo, you do have work tomorrow, assuming the gate at the site is cleared. You sigh and explain.
“Oh, that’s cool, don’t worry. I’ll let Jinwoo know you came by asking for him.” She waves you goodbye and shuts the door, presumably to go call her friend back. You sigh, alone in the hall.
Stupid. Obviously a Hunter would be occupied with other stuff if they were about to go into a fucking dungeon.
-
It’s a week of no-Jinwoo later (“Still in the hospital,” Jinah tells you, looking pretty despondent. “Got busted up pretty good on that raid.”) and someone’s knocking at your door at ten in the morning on your day off. You stumble out of bed, as exhausted as you were when you collapsed into it fourteen hours earlier, and answer. “Whoizzit?”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Jinwoo says, looking immensely apologetic. “I’m sorry, Jinah just wanted me to make sure you knew I was okay, she said you came by asking about me a few days ago.”
You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. “Yeah, I did. Thanks.” You stand in awkward silence for another few seconds. “Did you want to— come in?”
You do a little shuffle in the entryway of your apartment, too small for two people at once. “Sorry,” you say, leading him to the living room. “Uh, I’ll go put on some pants or something. Make yourself at home.” You duck into the bedroom, silently cursing yourself for not putting any shorts on over your underwear when you went to sleep last night.
Jinwoo is standing where you left him when you come back, dressed and slightly more awake. “Sorry again I woke you up.”
“Don’t worry, you didn’t know that it’s my day off. It’s pretty late anyway.” You yawn again. “Do you want any coffee or tea?”
“I’m okay,” he insists, but he accepts the mug of tea you offer him.
“Thanks. For the tea, and for worrying about me.”
“It’s nothing, just being a good friend. What happened? Jinah mentioned you went to the hospital and I didn’t want to disturb you or anything, so.” You slurp your tea. “We’ve been trying all the new recipes I found online. I’ll make the better ones for you sometime.”
“Oh. The gate went wrong, is all. I had to rest for a while.”
“You really should be more careful,” you say. “What’s going to happen to your sister if you get hurt or die?”
He hangs his head. “I know.”
You put your empty cup in the sink and stretch. “There’s a place near here that has really good tteokbokki,” you say. “We can get breakfast if you want.”
Jinwoo seems happy to leave behind the death talk in your kitchen and follows you out the door. While waiting for the elevator, you engage in some trivial small talk: weather, work, what his sister’s been up to. “She keeps trying to make galbi ribs but they always come out way too overcooked.”
“Mm,” you say. “Glad I’m here to save you. How come neither of you can season food properly?”
Jinwoo mutters mock-darkly the whole walk, not stopping until you push the door to the shop open and nod at the cook.
“Two bowls of tteokbokki, please.” The cook nods, ladling out the red-orange stew into paper bowls and sliding them over.
“I love the gravy here, it was the worst part about the tongue piercing,” you say, inhaling the fragrant steam. “Not being able to eat spicy food. Missed this like crazy.”
“You have a…?” Jinwoo goes silent when you stick your tongue out to display the simple silver ball in the middle of it. “Oh, that’s really cool. I don’t know how I didn’t notice before now.”
“Thanks. It’s pretty subtle, so most people don’t realize.” You dig into your bowl, blowing on the cheesy fishcakes and noodles before eating them. This place lets you add instant ramyun for cheap, and it’s always so worth it. Between the rice cake and noodles, you’ve never left hungry.
“Did it hurt?” Jinwoo asks after you’ve swallowed your first bite. You look at him, confused.
“When I feel from heaven, or…?”
He flushes and looks down at his bowl. “No! No, I mean the…” He motions around his mouth.
“Oh.” Get your head on right, you chastise yourself. Don’t flirt with straight boys. “Not really. The ones here—” You brush aside your hair to show off the studs in your upper ears. “—those were worse.”
“Wow.” You pretend to not notice when Jinwoo sneaks peeks at you through his bangs.
The two of you sit in silence, finishing the last of your food, until you catch him peeking at you from under his bangs in the same way you’re doing. That makes you laugh, breaking the tension.
“I’ll pay,” he says, getting up before you can stop him. “I got bashed up so I owe you one. And a complaint-free Kdrama watch. Besides,” he squints. “Don’t think I can’t tell that you’re hungover. You should stop drinking so much and come over for dinner more often.”
“I thought you were the one who was against that at first?” you snicker. “Okay, okay—as long as you quit almost dying.” You take a second to look at him and stand up yourself. “Did you hit another growth spurt or something? You weren’t this tall when I last saw you. Hey,” you say as he tries to slip away. “How’re you as tall as I am now?”
-
It’s Jinah’s turn to pick dinner and she’s declared that nothing will please her except sweet and sour pork stir fry. That’s fine by you because the place she’s chosen for delivery also has mala mapo tofu. She flings the door open when you knock.
“Come in,” Jinah chirps, bracing her feet against the step up from the entryway and trying to shove her brother out the door. You let the hand holding the drinks you brought drop to your side.
“Am I interrupting something between you?”
“Not at all,” Jinah says, redoubling her efforts. Jinwoo looks mildly inconvenienced, leaning back slightly to compensate for her pushing.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” you say back. “Do you need help? Or…?”
“I’m fine,” he says, catching the door frame as one of Jinah’s particularly effortful pushes catches him off balance. “Jinah, he can’t get in if you keep this up.”
“Then get out like I told you,” Jinah says from behind him.
“You were the one who made a mistake with the takeaway, just call the place and ask them to deliver the food!”
“No way!” Jinah finally succeeds in pushing Jinwoo out into the hallway and thus, into you. “I’ll text you the address! Come back with our food, okay?” She yanks you inside and shuts the door.
Siblings. You’ll never get used to them.
“What’s up with exiling your brother like that?” You say, lingering with your shoes on.
“He’s got car keys and a license, so he plays deliveryman for us,” Jinah says, leading you to the dining table, where a bottle of soju and a glass have been placed in your usual spot. “So, how was your day?”
“I feel like you’re plotting something,” you say, settling across from Jinah. “Should I be worried?”
“I’m not plotting anything! Things just turned out this way.”
“Then why do I feel as if you engineered this scenario to kick Jinwoo out and interrogate me alone?”
Jinah folds her hands and stares you down. “I have no idea what you mean. Have a drink.” She opens the bottle and pours out a glass.
“Isn’t this some kind of unethical, plying people with alcohol to make them talk?” You drink anyway, you’re very nervous. “You’re not going to murder me and then dump my body somewhere before Jinwoo gets home, are you?”
“You’ve been watching too many crime dramas.”
“We watch them together, and you’re the one who picks them because the lead detective is hot,” you say. “This could be straight out of the climactic confession scene.”
Jinah leans forward. “Exactly. Are you drunk yet?”
“I’ve had one shot of soju,” you say. “Clearly, you underestimate my tolerance. It’d take the whole bottle and some more time for that.”
Jinah sits the bottle down in front of you expectantly. You push it away.
“Are you in some kind of boy troubles situation, or something?”
“Of a sort,” Jinah says. “What’s your ideal relationship, if you could describe it?”
You take a moment to think. “Something comfy?”
“Comfy?” Jinah prompts.
“Relaxed. Chill. Like it’s normal to—” You pause. “—to have each other.”
“Hm,” Jinah says. “So, like, messaging a lot, eating together regularly, and walking to work or school with each other?”
“Yeah,” you say. Jinah looks contemplative, lips mashing together while she mouths some words to herself.
“Okay. Okay,” she says. “What about looks? What’s your type?”
You squint at her. “I thought this was supposed to be about your relationship issues?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend! Or a girlfriend. Yet. I’m just waiting til the right person comes along,” she says. “Trying to gather information so I can be informed.”
“And you thought I would be the best person to ask?” you say. “Don’t you have any friends your age at school?”
“I have a ton of friends,” Jinah says, turning her nose up. “But half of them get their advice from trashy BL manhwa and the other half have dated, like, one person, ever, for two weeks max.”
“Still feels like you should be asking them,” you say. “Is this what kids these days do instead of writing anonymous letters to some gossip tabloid?”
“You’re dodging the question, what’s your type?” Jinah says.
You roll your eyes. “Still feels wrong somehow.”
“Taller or shorter than you?” Jinah asks.
“Taller, so that rules you out,” you snip back.
“Gross!” Jinah gags. “I wouldn’t date you for all the money in the world.” You smirk.
“Good, glad we cleared that up.”
“Did you really think I was trying to— to ask you out, or whatever?”
You give her a look. “You kicked your brother out, insisted on trying to get me drunk, and wanted to talk about your love life. What the fuck am I supposed to think?”
Jinah pauses to think. “Well, now that you put it that way, it does sound really weird.”
“Oh my god,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “If I answer your question will you never try anything like this ever again?”
“Yes, as long as you swear to be totally, completely honest. You can trust me, I won’t tell a soul, I promise,” Jinah says, drawing an X over her heart.
You give her a look, exasperation and regret writ across your features. “Fine. This can’t get any more miserable.” She laughs, then gives you an expectant look.
“Someone…” You exhale and weave your fingers together, cradle your head, and lean back. “Someone strong and confident who I can bully a little bit.”
Jinah blinks. “Really? Wait—”
“Do you know how humiliating it is to tell the truth then have someone react like that,” you lift your head and say.
“Sorry, sorry.” She studies you a bit more. “I thought you’d like someone who’s more on the shy side. So, opposite.”
You spread your hands and gesticulate. “What am I supposed to even say? Can we talk about something else now?”
“I never thought you’d get shy like this!” Jinah laughs. You half-catch her say something else that sounds like 'that’s good' before she turns around and runs off, pumping her fist.
You lean to catch her expression. “What was that?”
“Nothing!” Jinah calls from the living room, the TV opening for her current favorite show to watch during dinner now playing.
“I’m back with the food,” Jinwoo announces, the door shutting behind him. He pushes the hood of his windbreaker back and scuffs his shoes on the mat before stepping into the house properly. “What did I miss?”
-
“Isn’t my brother great?” Jinah asks you when the two of you are standing by the window, watching Jinwoo dodge other pedestrians as he circles the block again, jogging and keeping pace with one of the cars driving by.
“Is this some kind of way to tell me to work out more?”
-
“You know, you’re pretty much family at this point,” Jinah says the next time you come over. You squint at her, slightly too tipsy to find any hidden meanings.
“Thanks, I guess?”
-
“Jinwoo cooked today!” Jinah announces, flinging the door open and releasing a cloud of smoke in your face. You bury your nose in your elbow and try not to cough.
“Something smells burnt?”
“Everything’s fine!” Jinwoo shouts from the kitchen, fanning the stove. The distinctive loud hiss of water meeting a hot pan sends a cloud of steam into the air.
“Don’t pour water if it’s a grease fire!” You throw your bag over a chair and open the window, sighing in relief when a cloud of cold night air rushes in.
“It’s not on fire,” Jinwoo says, trying to scrape the remains of what looks like a burnt battery mix from his pan.
“Not anymore,” you say. “You cooked this? Or tried to?”
Jinah blinks, dashing in front of you to the kitchen. “Wait! What I mean is, he made the jeon batter! It’s really good. I burnt it. Sorry.”
You give her a strange look. “Jinwoo’s literally the one holding the pan at the stove,” you say. “Should I maybe be the one who handles this part of dinner?”
-
Chat: Jinah, You
Jinah (8:45am): hey
Jinah (8:45am): random question rq
Jinah (8:46am): HYPOTHETICALLY if someone asked you out now
Jinah (8:46am): would you say yes or no
Jinah (8:47am): ???
You (11:19am): what
You (11:20am): are you trying to wingwoman or something
You (11:20am): my blind date track record is terribly just fyi
Jinah (12:34pm): uhhh
Jinah (12:35pm): is that like a hard no or…..????
(Read: 2:33pm)
Jinah (4:15pm): nooooooo oppa stop ignoring me
You (5:19pm): didnt we promise to never talk about this again a week ago or smth
-
Jinwoo texts you midafternoon one day, asking to meet up at a nearby park. He’s already there by the time you arrive, sucking on a water bottle after what looks like a run.
“I’m still not used to how tall you are,” you say when you get within earshot. He looks at you. “How’d you grow fifteen centimeters at your age?” Jinwoo ducks away from your attempts to try and ruffle his hair. “I used to be taller than you!”
“Sorry,” he smiles.
“Fuck off,” you grouse. “What did you want to talk about?”
He shrugs and falls into step beside you. “I got to thinking about what you said.”
“I’ve said a lot of things.”
You round the path that winds through the park, around the playground full of children screaming delightedly on the swings. He doesn’t say anything more until you get to a quieter area, near a peaceful bend in the path overlooking the pond, where he stops and looks out over the water.
“About being more careful for the people who still need me.”
“Good,” you say. “Your sister’s only seventeen, you know.”
“I know,” he says.
“Took you long enough. Kids should enjoy being carefree while they can.”
“Yeah,” Jinwoo says, leaning against the barrier that prevents him from falling into the pond. “I went on that raid recently, and I guess what they say about death making you realize what’s important is true. Ow!”
You smack him on the back of the head. “You’re a real fucking idiot, you know! Stop going and doing dangerous things!”
“It’s different now!” he protests.
“Sure,” you drawl, eyeing him in a way that makes clear you don’t believe him.
“I made more than a million won in that raid,” he says. “It was worth it.”
You sputter indignantly. “That’s exactly what you shouldn’t be doing, putting a price on your life for— Argh! Forget it! Whatever! What were you saying?”
“I was just thinking about people who’d be affected if I died, that’s all. Jinah, my mom, a few friends.” He looks down. “And you.”
You stat quiet and watch him flex the fingers of one hand, furling and unfurling a loose fist.
“Hey, just to test something real quick, could you punch me?”
“What?” You say.
“Just, just trying to test something, that’s all. Here.” He gestures to his chest. “Punch, hard as you can.”
You give him a doubtful look. He rolls his eyes.
“I know I’m only an E-rank, but I still am a Hunter,” he says. “Come on, I bet it won’t even hurt.”
“Oh, I’m so gonna make you eat your words,” you say, shaking out your fingers and settling into your neutral ready stance. “I did martial arts all through school, I can hit pretty damn hard.” Your hands curl into loose fists, thumb resting lightly on the side of your index finger, outside the ball of your fingers.
“Don’t hold back,” Jinwoo says. You scowl.
“Don’t worry about that.” Your fist connects with Jinwoo and you’re mildly surprised with the firm muscle that you hit. “Huh. You’re more ripped that I realized, I guess the workouts have done something.”
Jinwoo goes quiet again, staring out over the pond, where the sun is just starting to set.
“What?” you say. “Don’t tell me you got hurt from that. What did you want to test from me punching you anyway?”
“Just wanted to get a sense of how strong you are,” Jinwoo says, readjusting his running jacket. “I need to get stronger to support the people who matter to me.”
“You better not be thinking I’m some kind of damsel who needs saving,” you warn. “I can protect myself, I’m not weak by any measure.”
“What would happen if Hunters came and tried to kill you?” he asks. “Not like me, but D or C level? Or even higher?”
“Getting philosophical, are we?” you say, ignoring the question. “What’s this got to do with people who need you?”
“Nothing, really. I was just thinking mostly about Jinah,” he says. “But you kept popping into my head.”
You take a second to gather your thoughts before speaking, traitorous heart leaping in your chest. “Family, friends…”
“Not friends,” he says empathetically.
You try to lighten the mood, forcing a chuckle. “It’s an honor be adopted into your family, then. Jinah will be happy I come around to cook more often.”
“Not… Not family, either,” Jinwoo says, so quiet you have to step forward to catch his words.
Silence stretches long between you. You try to catch his eye to see if you can glimpse what he means, but his hair hides them. Your own eyes flicker around the scene, hands in your pockets to hide their sweatiness. It’s just starting to get cold, wind carrying the barest hint of chill.
An old couple with a dog walks by. You let them pass, waiting until their conversation about grandchildren and repairing their apartment’s water heater has faded, before you can even think of moving.
“So what are we, then?” you eventually ask.
Jinwoo keeps staring at the pond, you by his side and watching something invisible ripple over the water. Someone’s kite rises higher until it looks like a faint speck in the sky, producing a faint round of cheers that carry across the water.
“If I swear to tell you the truth, will you stay and listen until I’m done?” he says.
You step closer, until your arms are brushing against each other. “If I swear to listen, will you wait for my response?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I promise to wait,” he huffs, not quite laughing or meeting your eye.
“Then I promise to stay and listen.”
The two of you laps into silence again, more comfortable than before. Jinwoo shifts until your arms rest parallel on each other, that strip of heat warming your whole body. The sun sinks slowly lower, until you’re left in soft twilight verging on dusk.
“I think if we spend any more time together, I’m going to end up falling in love with you,” Jinwoo says, letting the settling breeze carry his words into the world.
You swallow furiously, a painful lump in your throat. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “I think so.” He bows his head. “I’m sorry. I can leave if you want.”
You grab his arm. “You promised to wait,” you say, eyes burning with building tears. “I haven’t said anything yet.”
Jinwoo stops, halfway turned away from you. You can feel how quickly his chest rises and falls, shoulders tensed. You can’t let him go.
“In that case…” You take a deep breath. “If that’s how you feel, I think we should spend more time together.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Okay.” You can feel Jinwoo’s exhale and let your hand fall as he turns around again; you can hear his smile. “Okay.” He laughs. “I’m— I was so worried about how you would react to this, and—”
“You? Worried?” You finally, finally meet his eyes. “I was afraid I was flirting with a straight boy this whole time! You don’t even know—” You break off in a laugh and stumble backward. “I was so worried you’d get weirded out and ghost me! I thought you did, after the raid, until Jinah said you were in the hospital! Compared to that, Icarus doesn’t know what the sun feels like.”
Jinwoo catches you, a light hand on your elbow. “We’re a little stupid, aren’t we?” He says, grinning. “Jinah’s been telling me to just confess for weeks already.”
“Whoops,” you say, beaming up at him. “Yeah. Yeah, we are pretty stupid.”
“Sorry for making you wait so long,” he says, once again falling into step alongside you as you head off to walk the other half of the path that led you here.
“It’s okay,” you say, letting your elbow bump against his. “We have all the time in the world.”