Chapter Text
Just like clockwork, the phone on Cheol’s nightstand explodes in short but many quick bursts at exactly 7 am. At some point, it started to angrily vibrate. Cheol groaned into his comforter but still picked up the call on its second ring, lest he upset Hwani even more.
“Rumor has it that you’re becoming the ‘most ineligible bachelor’ just as quickly as being named the ‘most eligible bachelor’ amongst my friends,” Hwani said in lieu of a greeting. For such an expressive person, her tone was oddly neutral and even, which honestly made it that much more terrifying.
Choosing to ignore the storm brewing on the other end of the line, Cheol simply sighed, “Hwani, do you know what time it is?” He stopped setting alarms for himself, knowing that she would wake him up anyway.
“A socially acceptable time to call someone in the morning; that’s what time it is.”
Cheol couldn’t even argue with that. He put her on speakerphone then stretched, fingers lightly grazing the ceiling of his bedroom. He moved to his bathroom and tilted his head back to inspect the light stubble already forming on his chin and neck as his younger sister chattered away. He might have not gotten the monstrously tall genes from his father, but he definitely got the rapidly growing facial hair gene from him.
Cheol tried extremely hard to focus on what Hwani was saying but it was almost easier to tune out her chiding than cutting through melted butter. After all, the general message of every call she made the morning after a disastrous blind date set up between one of her acquaintances and himself was to be “less terrifying and/or awkward.” In other words, to act more like the love interests of those manhwas Hwani and…—Cheol gripped the edge of the sink, staring down his reflection (He was doing so well so far; how did she always come up in his mind in the smallest ways)—used to enjoy.
“...You’re totally scaring off my friends…How could you have not changed at all since middle school, oppa?...It’s so embarrassing to have introduced you to my friends, only for them to speak ill of their experiences, especially since they were so eager to meet you…”
Oh, that’s new. Cheol winced, less from the nick he accidentally inflicted on himself while shaving but more from her unintentionally biting words. (Despite nearing his forties, it still stung to hear about his misunderstood middle school years. Painful memories of the taste of iron and the smell of antiseptic twinged his senses.)
She wasn’t wrong; he was truly a terrible brother for not even trying to pretend to be those manhwa love interests for the sake of his baby sister’s reputation. But say they do fall for this façade, what then? What would happen when they find out how truly “terrifying” and “awkward” he was? Or would he be cursed to keep up these kinds of appearances for him to be able to settle at all?
Maybe this was atonement for his wrongdoing some twenty odd years ago.
At the not-so-fragile age of thirty-eight, Kim Cheol was terribly, utterly, undeniably single: his longest lasting relationship being less than a month. And it was not from a lack of trying. Despite his rather independent and cold demeanor, he was a fellow that needed (and, deep down, wanted) a companion with emotions that ran deeper than any platonic relationship could offer. After all, he was a man of warmth—a heart burning hotter and brighter than an overworking furnace—that very much desired to carefully dole out charcoal to his loved ones.
It took some time recognizing and embracing that unexpected side of himself, especially during his fragile teenage years. (He still struggled to be more comfortable about his expression of love and desire for romance.) But his ever-so-observant younger sister wordlessly set him up with some of her acquaintances, friends from college, and colleagues from work—who have conveyed interest after seeing his handsome looks when he came to pick her up from school or a work outing—to give him a helping hand.
She only had so many single friends as the number left was now dwindling while the number of abject complaints was rising:
- Date #1: Cheol had a scary—daresay, crazed—look. (“That’s just my resting face!” Cheol had exclaimed, throwing up his hands in defeat, “How is that my fault?” Hwani seemed initially sympathetic but responded with a jokingly harsh, “Well, fix it.”)
- Date #2: Cheol didn’t take her chair out and pushed it back in for her. (What was he? Her butler?? Hwani reluctantly agreed with him on this one; it was rather ridiculous. The woman turned out to be batshit insane anyway, and Hwani quickly cut her off.)
- Date #8: Cheol made her walk on the streetside of the sidewalk. When she inconspicuously tried to walk on the inner side, he kept scooching her to the outer side. (Hwani banged on his door at 7 am the morning after this date, absolutely appalled and apologetic on behalf of her brother to her friend. “There were an unusual number of dogs tied to buildings.” Hwani had raised an eyebrow but eventually accepted his excuse.)
- Most recent date (Date #13): Cheol was a complete and utter klutz: dropping a spoon, chuckling then bending down to pick it up, only for him to bang his head on the table on his way up. The other utensils and glass of water tumbled down to join him and his burning embarrassment. His date just left him there, unable to handle the abrupt quietness and stares from patrons.
Hwani took Cheol’s introspective silence as a thinly veiled offense and backpedaled. “Okay, well, what she did yesterday was an asshole move. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone. I chewed her out when she called, I promise, oppa.” (To be honest, Cheol was still reeling from the outrageous events that transpired the night prior.)
“And…” she sighed, “...I'm definitely being too harsh on you when some of the reasons are just objectively ridiculous and, not at all, your fault. I just really want this to work out for you. But if you understandably want to stop right here, I’ll stop.”
Cheol finished up and gently tapped his stinging wound with his towel. He tossed the blood-spotted towel in the hamper and carded his fingers through his hair. He knew Hwani means well and had meant well all this time. It was just her method of “meaning well” was eerily similar to that of his older sister: stubbornly bulldozing their way into his affairs. He sat down by his phone and rested his forehead on the crook of his elbow.
“I know I have to” was Cheol’s muffled response. “I know I have to go out of my comfort zone,” he repeated. “It’s the only way to…” An unhelpful image of a smiling teenage girl with dazzling eyes came up. Cheol felt like throwing up.
Hwani didn’t need to hear any more to know exactly what gears were being turned in her older brother’s head. It was hard for her to see him still grapple with a lack of closure and lasting affection—if not, wholesome love—for his first and only love from twenty years ago. And in a way, they both knew deep in their minds that the gaping hole in Cheol’s heart would never truly be satisfied or mended by any of these other women; maybe it would never truly begin to, in the first place.
“I have one more person in mind. She’s absolutely lovely. I think you’ll like her a lot.” Hwani quickly diverted Cheol’s attention away from thoughts of his past, knowing his tendency to quickly spiral.
It worked.
“Now, why, pray tell, haven’t you already set me up with this allegedly ‘lovely’ woman?” Cheol huffed. That basically meant he wasted all of this time on something unfruitful.
“The thing is… I don’t know her that well yet…” Her voice sounded distant, and the crying sounds of a baby could be heard. “Your nephew just woke up. Amazing,” she yawned. “I swear your crybaby nephew dictates my entire life because why does the start of a long and grueling day begin with his piercing screams.”
Cheol laughed, “That’s parenting for you, which you signed up for. Go. We can talk later.”
A door shut, and the cries were immediately muffled. “Nah, I read that leaving your kid to cry will teach them that mommy isn’t going to spoil them and deal with their bullshit so Minjoonie can keep crying. Anyway, yeah, I don’t know her too well. She’s a coworker that just transferred. She’s pretty, pretty accomplished, and pretty loud . I know you like them loud.”
Cheol sputtered.
“Not in that way! You know what I mean! Okay, I think I need to actually go. Minjoon isn’t quieting down. But I’ll ask my coworker if her sister would be open to meeting you. I’ll keep you updated. Love you, oppa!” And Hwani hung up.
The sudden silence on the other end left Cheol to his thoughts and reflection of the whirlwind of a conversation he just had. God, this might actually be worse than going on dates with people Hwani knew personally, because now Hwani had to request a third party to be involved with this mess of a love life and criticism would be that much more scathing. At least the other women he met with were the ones that wanted to go out with him.
A sense of dread and the lurching desire to throw up permeated the rest of his week.
I’ve taken a seat already but take your time~~ ^^ I’m sitting by the restroom and wearing a green apple hairpin!
Cheol was late. Very late. The anxiety he managed to quell and tame in the past few hours began to bubble to his throat. He thought his phone vibrated in his pocket a few minutes ago but he didn’t want to sacrifice even a few precious seconds in case his anxiety imagined the sensation. It was truly hard for him to decide to run and risk being sweaty or to just accept his tardiness and walk the rest of his way to his destination. Either way, it was going to make a terrible first impression.
(He was actually still five minutes early, but if he was anything less than ten minutes early, he was utterly and irrevocably late.)
((He decided to choose a happy medium and speed walk. But based on the weird looks passersby are giving him, he conceded that seeing a 190cm tall man—head ridiculously towering over everyone else—power walking would indeed be strange. So he ran instead.))
Thankfully, the restaurant they decided on wasn’t too far from where he parked, and his nice shirt wasn’t completely drenched in sweat. He skidded to a comedic stop, almost falling over his head and in front of the wide glass panel of the restaurant to the viewing pleasure of its customers. He gripped the stone wall and took a breather, running a hand through his hair to make sure they were not sticking out from the wind.
Despite being a hole in the wall, the restaurant’s door was tall enough to accommodate his height without ducking. The restaurant-bar was surprisingly far quieter than he expected on a Friday night. Not from a lack of patrons as the place was considerably packed, but rather from the hushed and intimate conversations taking place at each table. Maybe choosing this place as a first date location was a tad bit too ambitious as the overall vibe of the restaurant was slightly too intimate for the disastrous end that was imminent in his future.
He sucked in his stomach to maneuver his way between the tightly clustered tables, not wanting to interrupt the couples and friends who were engrossed in their conversations. All breath escaped him, however, when his eye caught a familiar shade of sleek olive hair.
He stilled.
Her hair was shorter than the last time he saw her about fifteen years ago. (Although who could really say… After all, the last time he saw her she was technically taller than him.)
His eyes searched. Searched for what? Who knows. (Searched for further confirmation that it was truly her. He didn’t know what answer he wanted: if he wanted this person to be her or not.)
A green apple hairpin. His heart lurched .
He was afraid. He was so afraid to soak in the rest of the woman sitting a few tables away from where he was standing, looking down at her watch and then back up toward the entrance.
Furrowed bushy eyebrows, much like caterpillars. His stomach lept .
It was her .
It was her .
It was actually her .
Kim Cheol didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he was catapulted back in time to his eighteen-year-old self. He felt oh-so-small in the middle of the crowded restaurant. His palms began to sweat when his mind finally registered the message his heart had been sending all this time.
He needed to run away. They shouldn’t meet here, not like this. Not thirty years later when she was thirty-nine and definitely married to someone she actually deserved and he was thirty-eight and pathetically, chronically single because he couldn’t move on from her.
This was not how Cheol envisioned their first meeting in decades to go. If it were up to him, they would have met much earlier. At a café. Over his favorite black coffee and her favorite hot cocoa. He would have been less of a wreck, and she would have remained the beautiful sun she always was. They would have discussed the weather then their respective lives, specifically about their spouses and the family they eventually went on to form.
She would be in the happy marriage she deserved with literally any man other than him. He would just be in a marriage: a happy marriage as a front for her sake so she didn’t blame herself for his misfortune, so she didn’t mourn the could have been’ s, but in actuality, a tragic marriage as that was what he deserved.
They would have gotten the closure they needed and was long overdue. Then they would have promised to never see each other again. That was what should have happened, what would have happened in a perfect world. But Kim Cheol knew this fateful encounter at a random restaurant on a random Friday night was truly karma.
Atonement for his sins.
“Move it!” someone gruffed from behind him, interrupting his anxious spiral. He apologized then moved out of the way to let them through. He decided to book it and started to make his way back toward the entrance. He was not ready to face her after all this time. He was going to hurt her again , just by appearing in front of her. He didn’t think he could handle her starry eyes that once were filled with so much wonder and adoration for him be hardened with spite and disgust. He made the mistake of glancing behind him and locked eyes with her.
They lit up in recognition.
Like a sailor lost at sea, he was drawn to the siren’s song that were her eyes. His feet started to move on their own, marching one in front of the other to the woman on the other side of the restaurant. But as he approached closer, he realized it was all wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong .
“My apologies for being late! It was hard finding a spot to park. My name is Kim Cheol; I’ve heard wonderful things about you from my sister.” Cheol gave a polite slight bow and took his seat. She gave a warm smile and waved away his concerns.
“You’re right on time! I just happened to be in the area and got here earlier. My name is Choi Sarang; it’s so lovely to meet you finally!”
Her skin was pale and, for lack of a better term, monotone. There were no signs of a playful constellation of freckles across her nose nor a charismatic mole on her left cheek. Her eyebrows were far from “bushy.” They were pristinely trimmed and gelled, just slightly thicker than what had been popular with women. Her hair color was quite unique, especially under the harsh lighting. It leaned more brown than the olive he mistakenly perceived earlier. Her eyes were like an open book, bright and youthful, despite the small creases around her eyes from decades of easy smiles and laughter. But it wasn’t the same pair of bright eyes he was secretly hoping for.
They made some small talk before a waiter came to take their order. Cheol waited for the inevitable comment or joke about his height but none came. Sarang chattered away all of his foreboding anxieties, much like how she used to do so once upon a time. Even now, his mind strayed to her . But somewhere along the way, the restless jittering of his leg halted.
It was almost too easy getting absorbed in Sarang’s words. She was quite the entertaining storyteller. The food that was placed in front of them ages ago had long frozen over. Cheol didn’t remember the last time he had actual fun on a date, nonetheless the last time he laughed this hard. It was routine at this point to politely chuckle at some of the women’s poor attempts at humor in the middle of an awkward date.
“There’s no way you didn’t know what you were doing! You were old enough to at least make a vague connection!”
“I swear I was just trying to draw flowers! A flower can’t have just two petals; it needs to have at least three to barely look like one and I was too lazy to draw more. Imagine my horror when my teacher screamed and called my mom for ‘defacing her blackboard with lewd images of penises.’”
The soda Cheol was sipping on zipped up his airway and exploded out of his nostrils before he even had the chance to squish down his laughter. The gross mixture of soda and snot splattered in slow motion in front of him. The embarrassment and horror of his ill-fated blunder pained him more than the sour sting of the carbonation in his nose. Of course, he was God’s least favorite. Of course, he was the one to ruin the otherwise (oddly) perfect date.
Sarang was going to throw her ice water at him for being disgusting. The entire restaurant was going to go silent and observe them like exotic animals. The host of the restaurant was going to kick him out and blacklist him for violating some health code and for causing a scene. He was going to get a call from Hwani tomorrow morning for making a fool out of her and now she had to change workplaces.
There was a light chuckle, and Cheol started to shrink in on himself. Then, there was a full on guffaw from the petite woman across from Cheol. There wasn’t a hint of malice in her laugh. Cheol couldn’t stop himself from cracking a smile at Sarang’s weird sputtering and cackling.
“Ouch! Having stuff go up your nose has got to be one of the top ten painful things.” Without hesitation, Sarang stood up and dabbed at his nose with a napkin. Realizing how forward she was actigin, she quickly sat back down and chugged her glass of water. Cheol gratefully took the napkin and blew his nose. As if nothing happened, they carried on.
He found himself being talkative around her. She was genuinely enraptured in what he had to say, and he felt seen . This was the connection he was waiting for. It was almost too good to be true.
He struggled to find the right time to excuse himself to go to the restroom. They had nice banter going on, and he anticipated an awkward silence to greet him after he came back. As the pressure on the walls of his bladder mounted, he had no choice but to ask for a timeout.
Something about a completely filled bladder was that you could not walk how you normally do unless you wanted to risk emptying it out completely in public. But what happens if you had abnormally long legs that also happened to fall asleep? You land splat on the dirty floor. Maybe even have a slight leak if you were extra unlucky.
Which is exactly the position we had Cheol in. The sound of him falling was resounding and had the entire restaurant spin their heads toward him. Before Sarang could even hustle over and help the poor man up, he jumped up with a bruised knee and an even more bruised ego and ran out of the restaurant.
Cheol clenched his jaw as he jerked back from the parking lot and onto the street. He cursed the people meandering on the street but reminded himself to calm down. It was a straight line to his final destination so he let his brain turn off. The honking of the city faded in the distance, the number of people dwindled, and the roads became jankier the farther he drove.
Cheol rolled down all of his windows. The only sound was the wind whistling and his hair slapping against his skin. Despite his best efforts to empty his mind, the night’s disaster replayed in his mind like a broken record. His mind further tortured him by running the footage in slow motion. He was just prolonging his inevitable demise.
His car pulled up to a gravel parking spot right outside of his dark and empty childhood home. He wished he could say he only had fond memories here. But ironically, his comfort space was the start of all of his life’s misfortunes in the past few decades.
He quickly got out of the car and unlocked the front door. It was already late, having taken a few hours to get here. Cheol changed out of his clothes and into a set of pajamas he kept from high school. The pants were a bit too short on him but it was perfect for the cool summer night. Cheol blissfully closed his eyes and sprawled on his futon. He focused on the chirping of the crickets. They were quieter than usual.
Hoping he would just fall asleep like this, he lay still. Then the thoughts started to crawl through his neurons. He screamed into his pillow and kicked off his blankets. It was evident that he was not going to get a wink of sleep tonight. He had no choice but to turn to his last resort: his old radio. Listening to the radio was a hit or miss for him. It was broken for as long as he remembered, meaning that it would randomly jump around stations. Sometimes it was a classical music station, other times it was a rock music station. He prayed God would let him have just this one thing.
When he turned on the old thing, there was loud static. He fiddled with the dial to no avail, then hit the top a few times. The static lessened for him to make out a familiar song. Before he could register what it was, it faded to a close.
How could I forget… It was noona’s go-to noraebang song.
“And that was Kang Sooji’s ‘Violet Fragrance’ from 1990.”
The tinny voice from the radio radiated warmth and comfort, strangely immediately acquiescing his racing thoughts and lulling him to gentle sleep. He attributed this to the exhaustion finally catching up to him. However, there was a sense of familiarity to the voice and chuckle that Cheol couldn’t exactly pinpoint as the radio show’s host continued to speak.
“Reminds you of high-waisted jeans and first loves, no? Well, this song reminds me of my first love. His eyes were the prettiest shade of violet when the sun hit them just right, but perhaps it was all thanks to the rose-tinted glasses that came with the 90s,” she laughed then sighed wistfully.
“This next song is our last one for the night: Lee Jiyeon’s ‘Wind, Please Stop Blowing’ from 1989. Thank you for tuning in to After School Lessons for Unripe Apples! See you next Friday for more 80s and 90s nostalgia!”
Cheol was already asleep. He dreamt of denim, broken hearts, and green apples.
Epilogue.
The way Cheol hightailed out of the restroom was almost cartoonish. If Sarang squinted, she could maybe make out a small cloud of dust right behind him. He almost crashed into the pristine glass door, tried pushing a PULL door, then managed to finally escape. She would’ve found this all endearing if she didn’t have to pay for both of them.
Sarang knew Cheol ditching the bill wasn’t out of malicious intent (or at least she hoped) and she understood to some extent how he might have felt in the moment, but God was it rather dramatic. A chuckle escaped from her. She quickly started scowling.
I’m supposed to be annoyed. She pouted. She was going to make him pay next time. If he even wants to see me…
She sighed. She thought it was going so well, but maybe he really is a jerk and this was all a prank. He needed an escape so desperately that he thought the best way was to make a situation so outrageous that she had no choice but to sympathize with him. It was all so bewildering!!
She waved down the nearest waiter. Sarang needed a beer and debrief session with her best friend, stat. “Check, please!”
“The bill has been paid already, ma’am.” The ma’am struck a nerve. She was still a miss despite being well into her thirties!
Wait, huh?
As if the waiter read her mind, he described that a “very tall man paid at the beginning of the night.” This entire night felt like a serious case of whiplash. Maybe that Kim Cheol guy was not that bad.
(She skipped all the way down the street until remembering she had to call a taxi.)
((She texted him as soon as she got into the taxi, So how about that next date? ))