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It’s that kind of night when everything seems awake and vibrant outside but it’s really just the dirt on the camera lens that gives the streetlights halos and oil on top of the puddles reflecting red-tinted rainbows. You can never sleep on nights like this, not when the possibility of being awake and a hollow kind of happy flickers below your window. Inside the apartment (you’re sleeping over at Jinwoo’s, where it’s dark and quiet but still perfectly peaceful) you creep through the living room to the door. Jinah mentioned a test tomorrow and you’re not going to be the one to disturb her sleep.
“What are you doing?”
You freeze in the entryway, one hand tugging your shoes on. Jinwoo moves in the dark like a shark in the shadows, sliding through layers of darkness like it’s his second home. He comes to a stop in front of you, leans in so close you can smell his cologne, and simply waits, his nose hovering milimeters away from your cheekbone.
“Why, have other plans for me?” you retort in a half-whisper, smiling even though you can’t see anything. You have a feeling that he can, though. “It’s past midnight, I wonder what those might be.”
“Maybe I do.” Jinwoo steps even closer. You turn your head so your cheek grazes across the fabric of his hoodie. “Where’re you going?”
“Hungry, couldn’t sleep,” you say. “Buying a snack, that’s all.”
Jinwoo leans into you. You can feel him exhale.
“What about you? Tired?”
“I have some stuff going on,” Jinwoo says, wrapping his arms around you and swaying. “Trying to form a guild with Jinho.”
“That guy you met while raiding today?”
“Mm.” Jinwoo leans even more heavily against you, sighing. You reach your hand up and run it through his hair.
“You just came back from another one of those raids, can’t you take a break?”
“I’m coming with you, aren’t I?” Jinwoo untangles himself from you and reaches for his shoes. “It’s not really anything serious at all, just a feeling that he wants to team up.”
“We’re the insomnia twins,” you say. “If we ever get a kid someone will need to watch them in the day, not at night.”
“We’ll work on that,” Jinwoo agrees. “Jinah has school, after all.”
You step out of the apartment together and walk into the elevator comfortable silence. “This remind you of anything good?”
“Yeah, you.”
He seems so nonchalant about that, pushing his hands in his pocket and yawning so wide his nose scrunches up. You resist the urge to pinch his cheek.
“Well. I guess so,” you say, fighting to contain the warm feeling that tingles in your chest. “At least you can wake up a little later now. No more running for the elevator.”
“I was never really rushing because I was late,” he says. “I really just wanted to see you.”
Jinwoo yawns again, like he hasn’t just said the most romantic thing you’ve ever had directed at you in your life, and nudges you out of the lobby and into the street. The air is chilly, but not so cold that you can’t stand it in your shirt and light jacket.
When you push open the door to the brightly lit convenience store, Jinwoo grabs a basket in his left and your left in his right hand. You look at him quizzically.
“What?” he says. “Can’t I hold my boyfriend’s hand?”
“Sap,” you say, pulling him toward the instant noodles aisle. He squeezes your fingers.
Jinwoo stands while you compare noodle varieties. “Which one do you want?” you ask him, offering a yakisoba and a spicy chapagetti variety.
“You’re the one eating it,” he says. You think, weighing each in your hand, then put the yakisoba back on the shelf.
“The spicy one’s my favorite,” you say to no one in particular.
“I know,” Jinwoo says. You smack his arm.
“I wasn’t talking to you!”
“Who else?”
You roll your eyes. “I want kimchi with this.”
Jinwoo lets you lead the way to the refrigerated section for a packet of kimchi and a fish sausage. “Where’s the marinated quail eggs,” you whisper.
Jinwoo snorts.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just thought that our first date would be more romantic than this.”
“Romantic, or fancy?” you say. “Isn’t this pretty romantic? You’re carrying the basket and acting like some kind of lovestruck fool who can’t stand to be apart from me for more than two minutes.”
That makes him laugh, but he sobers up quickly. “I feel bad that I’ve been busy lately.”
“Better spoil me a ton when you can,” you say, tossing a three-pack of the quail eggs into the basket he’s holding.
“Sure, what kind of present do you want for your birthday?”
“Drink,” you say, stepping to get a can of Milkis from the fridge and leaning your head on his shoulder when you step back.
“Apple?”
“Appy Milkis,” you say, closing your eyes for a second and leaning in further to kiss him on the edge of the cheek. He tilts his head closer to let you. “We’re giving the poor kid who works here heart palpitations.”
“They see worse every day from high schoolers who can’t look at each other at home,” Jinwoo says, making you chuckle. “They can put up with us. What’s anyone going to do, fire me?”
“Unlikely,” you say dryly, slipping a fish sausage into the basket and wandering through the frozen section. “Do you want anything?”
“I’ll eat whatever you don’t.”
“True boyfriend material. I’m glad you understand your role in the world,” you say, opening a freezer. “Ooh, Buldak dumplings. These are good. Spicy, but really good. Thoughts on ice cream?” A package of the dumplings drops into the basket.
“Get one for Jinah if you do,” he says. You pore over the options.
“Sweet potato?”
“If you want,” he says.
“Sweet potato or the fish one,” you muse. “Fishy? Sweet potato? I think fishy, this time. Oh, I need an ice cup.”
Jinwoo lets you lead him to the other end of the freezer section and take out a plastic cup full of ice, then step over to one of the refrigerators and pick a green bottle of soju.
“Why such a big ice cup?”
“I’m mixing it with the Milkis,” you say. “Look at me, not drinking myself to sleep for once.”
Jinwoo sighs and hands his card to the cashier.
“Hey, it’s not so bad. I hardly do that since you have me over for dinner so often. I’m joking. Mostly.”
Jinwoo side eyes you as he takes the food and passes it to you. “Remind me to make you start sleeping over more often,” he says. You fill up your instant noodles with hot water and stick it in the microwave, humming along to the music playing over the store’s speakers while you wait for the noodles to cook.
“Does it bother you?” you ask after a minute or two of silence. Jinwoo looks at you from his perch leaning against one of the chairs in the seating area.
“Does what bother me?”
You make a tippling motion, then point to the soju. Jinwoo tilts his head toward the brightly lit store interior.
“Yeah. A little bit.”
You reach over to pick up the bottle and roll it between your hands. You can feel him watching you. The microwave hums, oblivious.
You tip your head back and groan at the same time the microwave beeps. “Stop making me feel bad!”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. And your noodles are done.”
You open the kimchi, eggs, and fish sausage, and add them all into the drained chapagetti with the sauce, being sure to tear the sausage into pieces to make it easier to eat.
“If you sleep over more, will you try and cut down on the soju?” Jinwoo says, opening the dumplings and setting those in the microwave. You give him a halfhearted glare to keep up appearances.
“I mean, if you keep twisting my arm like that…”
Jinwoo laughs and pulls in in to kiss your temple. You mix the sauce into your noodles more vigorously.
“That’s enough character growth for the rest of the month.” You take an experimental bite of the noodles and nod approval. Jinwoo gets up to take the hot dumplings out.
“Here, have an egg,” you say, offering him one. He leans forward and eats from your chopsticks.
“Good.”
You make a noise of agreement, slurping up the noodles. They’re nice, sweet with the spicy from the dumplings and savory with the eggs and fish sausage, rounded off with the kimchi’s sour bite. Truly, an excellent combination.
Jinwoo holds the hand you aren’t using for your chopsticks, playing weaving your fingers together in different ways. You finish most of the chapagetti and four of the six dumplings before giving up and pulling the Milkis, ice cream, and soju toward you.
“If you weren’t a Hunter, what job would you have?” you ask, pushing the rest of your ramyun to Jinwoo and opening the ice cream. He takes your chopsticks and begins grabbing himself a bite.
“I don’t know. Something that pays well.” He takes a cautious bite of a dumpling and coughs. “How the hell do you manage to eat four of these?”
“They’re not that spicy,” you say, pouring the Milkis into the ice cup and topping it off with soju. “Anyway. You would’ve been a stripper or something?”
Jinwoo chokes. “What? No, I didn’t say that. A movie star or something.” He glares at you.
“I’m not shaming,” you say. “Just wondering. You know, I could’ve been a Kpop idol,” you say, biting the head off your fish ice cream. Jinwoo looks stunned. “What’s with that look? I’m handsome enough for it.”
“I wasn’t surprised about your looks,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his own. “You never told me this.”
“It never happened and I haven’t thought about it in ages,” you say. “No way it actually would have happened though.”
“Explain to me why it could have.”
You shrug. “No big deal. My mom asked if I wanted to take dance classes when I was in elementary school. Could’ve gotten scooped up by some big label and become famous. Never did, because I was too shy.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Jinwoo says.
“I swear, if you say something sappy like ‘I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you if you did,’” you begin, when Jinwoo laughs.
“Yes, that.”
“Sap,” you say, rolling your eyes again. Jinwoo slides the empty ramyun cup back to you.
“Can I have some ice cream? My mouth is on fire.”
“Wimp,” you say, handing over the tail end of your fish. “Can’t even handle those dumplings.”
“You’re just some kind of freak of nature. You might’ve made money as a hot pepper breeder or something,” Jinwoo says, chewing with his mouth open and panting. “Hot, hot.”
“Shall I kiss it better?” you simper, rattling the ice left in your drink. Jinwoo leans in for a smooch. “Silly boy.”
“Mm hmm,” he agrees, helping you up, even though you don’t need it, and picking up the wrappers to throw away. On your way out, he puts a warm hand on your lower back to guide you on the short walk back home. By the time you reach the building, he’s fully tucked you more or less under his arm. You don’t complain, warm and full in a very tangible way.
You fall asleep more easily than you have in ages, wrapped up together in bed. Let the outside world have the haloed streetlights and rainbow-slicked puddles—you have something warm to come home to.