Chapter Text
“Bobby broke up with his girlfriend,” Donghyuk half-whispers into the silent room. The problem with the serenity prayer, Junhwe finds, is that when you’re ready to snap pencils and necks, you won’t be able to find the time to remember it. It’s too fucking long.
Judging from the shifty glances Donghyuk occasionally throws in Junhwe’s direction, he’s well aware that Donhyuk’s trying to be quiet because he knows that Junhwe has three papers due in the next two days. Regardless of his intentions, Donghyuk’s failing. Spectacularly.
“Really?” Yunhyeong’s voice comes next. And in all honesty, things would move along faster (i.e. Junhwe’s ability to bullshit) if Yunhyeong and Donghyuk would just leave, but there’s a thunderstorm raging and Donghyuk had made his pitiable face and Junhwe, much to his own disdain, can’t quite say no to that. “The actress? Or is he onto that singer he featured last year?”
“Actress,” Donghyuk replies, with another glance up at Junhwe. “I thought they’d last.”
“I can’t believe you’re making speculations about a stranger’s life,” Junhwe finally says, unable to hold it in any longer. “Who cares?”
“Approximately ten major news sites do,” Yunhyeong replies, thumbing at Donghyuk’s phone, presumably browsing through those ten major sites that are clearly experiencing some sort of record-breakingly slow news day. “Oh, he tweeted. Lyrics from his debut album.”
“Pretentious asshole,” Junhwe says, at the same time that Donghyuk says, “I hope he’s okay.”
“How come you never show this level of concern for me?” Junhwe questions, shifting on the bed so Donghyuk can see his disgusted expression better, crushing his revision notes in the process.
“That’s because you sabotage your own relationships,” Yunhyeong points out.
“Telling them that they should get their lives together is not sabotage,” Junhwe insist, because his motto in life had always been Honest and Realistic. Anyone who lived by any other sort of rules was clearly in denial and it was in no way Junhwe’s fault that the guy had taken absolute offence at being called an “unmotivated slob” who was “clearly not gonna do shit with his life”.
“You could’ve let him down a little bit gentler,” Donghyuk agrees, but he’s using that soft, pitying tone of his that he claims isn’t pitying, but is often accompanied with a pat to Junhwe’s shoulder. “He’d just migrated back here. His father was sick.”
“When the going gets tough—“
“The tough gets going,” Yunhyeong and Donghyuk both chime after him, sounding exasperated but used to it. “We get it.”
“Besides,” Junhwe continues, because his sole goal in life was to live a life comfortable enough for him to take a year-long vacation, “the dude’s gonna live. He probably has five cars and an ATM card made out of gold. If I were him, I wouldn’t care if I were dating someone or not.”
“Of course you would say that,” Donghyuk murmurs.
“Just because you guys are dating now doesn’t mean you can get to be elitist about my love life,” Junhwe counters, rolling his eyes as Yunhyeong stole the opportunity to sprawl all over Donghyuk and shower him with kisses. Just his luck that his room-mate’s dating his best friend, and it’s just his luck that he happened to be here to see all of their firsts. And hear them too. “You guys should be thanking me for helping you find true fucking love.”
“Want us to return the favour?” Yunhyeong teases. “There’s always online dating.”
“I want to get laid, not murdered,” Junhwe returns, ending the conversation by picking up one stack of his (slightly crushed) notes.
“One might be easier than the other,” Donghyuk says, only to have Junhwe chuck his eraser in their general direction. He misses, of course, to which they laugh raucously then quiet down having, presumably, seen the light and decided to move on with their lives.
To Junhwe’s misfortune, they didn’t.
“So,” Donghyuk starts, three hours later over a giant box of pizza, “how do you feel about going on a date?”
“The last time you hooked me up—“ Junhwe starts, ready to launch into a why-your-taste-is-shit-and-should-be-kept-out-of-my-life rant that he’s really good at because he’s had so many chances to practice it. Donghyuk’s well-meaning; Junhwe just doesn’t have the same patience he does to see the good in everyone.
“That was a mistake,” Donghyuk concedes. The three of them share a look at the joint memory of having to bail Junhwe out from a date with Donghyuk’s course senior when the guy would not stop trying to make Junhwe laugh. Suffering of the highest level, Junhwe’d said as they evacuated the crime scene under the pretense that he was suffering from a lesser known stomach condition. “I should have let you vetoed him first. Who knew your type wasn’t nice and funny?”
“Fuck off,” Junhwe grumbles around a mouthful of pizza crust.
“Let’s try this again,” Yunhyeong says, leaning over to nick the fallen pepperoni from the box. He pops it into his mouth as he continues, “How would you like to go on a date, all expenses paid.”
Junhwe perks up considerably. “You mean... food?”
“Anything you like,” Yunhyeong says, but before Junhwe can make wild suggestions about trips to Paris, Donghyuk (that bastard) adds, “Within reason, of course.”
“Which sucker do you have in mind this time?”
“Someone who thinks you’re hot,” Yunhyeong answers. The bastard knows what Junhwe’s weak points are; this is why you should never let people get close to you.
“It’s good to share the same opinions, yeah,” Junhwe agrees with a shrug. “But how does he know me?”
“We may or may not have just sent your picture to him,” Donghyuk says, wiping his hand on a napkin to retrieve his phone. There’s a moment of silence, then Donghyuk’s holding up a series of messages, one of which contains Junhwe’s picture from that evening, looking disgruntled as he pores over his illegible class notes. The message after the picture reads: date me instead?
“What the fuck,” Junhwe says, because he might not own a Twitter account (“The world doesn’t need to know what you want to say every few minutes, thanks.”), but he’s pretty damn sure these messages are going out to someone called “Bobby”, and if he’s right about what he thinks is going on, then he’s going to be spending the rest of the year without a roommate. Or a best friend. “What the fuck.”
“Before you get mad,” Donghyuk starts, snatching his phone back. He probably knows Junhwe’s about to take it and chuck it across the room. “He thinks you’re cute. And he’s willing to bring you out to a restaurant of your choice.”
“Are you crazy? Is he crazy?” Junhwe questions, directing the second part of that question to Yunhyeong, who shrugs in a way that suggests that, like Donghyuk, he thinks it’s a good idea. “I’m the only sane one in this room, aren’t I? There’s no way this is happening.”
“You go on a date with him then,” Junhwe challenges, shovelling the rest of his pizza in his mouth. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a harmless bit of fun,” Donghyuk insists, and fuck, he’s wearing that kicked puppy expression again. Junhwe should be immune to it now, but it seems like Donghyuk’d only levelled up over the years. “If he’s for real, then you get to go on a date for the first time in months—“
“—hey!”
“—and if he’s not serious about it... then we’ll treat you. Right, Yunhyeong?” Donghyuk asks, to which Yunhyeong just nods. Suck up.
“How desperate are you guys to use this room without me?” Junhwe questions, sitting firmly on his decision. This was a concoction for a bad night—Junhwe plus some person who announces his relationship to the world? No fucking way. Not even for a trip to Paris.
“‘o ye of little faith,” Yunhyeong says. Donghyuk’s phone chimes loudly and they all turn to look at it in unison.
“... what?” Junhwe asks, when Donghyuk nearly chokes on a pepperoni.
“He asks if you’re too chicken to take him on,” Donghyuk replies, in a slow, measured tone. Yunhyeong snorts disbelievingly, leaning over to take a look at Donghyuk’s phone.
“This is why he’s single now,” Junhwe says, although he won’t lie and say that his interest isn’t piqued.
“Well...” Yunhyeong trails off, as if to suggest that Junhwe’s too chicken to take Bobby on. Which is a blatant misassumption and Junhwe is offended that his roommate of almost two years would think such a thing of him. It’s not about whether he’s scared or not, it’s about whether he wants this or not.
And he doesn’t. No way. He has better things to deal with in life, like doing the laundry before he has to start reusing the cleanest boxers he has again. Who the hell has time to amuse a questionable person who responds to random tweets on the internet? Junhwe (or Yunhyeong, in this case, since it’s Yunhyeong’s account, after all) could be a serial murderer or an obsessed fanatic and Bobby would be none the wiser. Considering that he did take Yunhyeong seriously, then he really is not too smart.
“Gimme your phone,” Junhwe announces loudly, wiping his palms on his pants as he reaches over to snatch it before Donghyuk can protest.
“Fuck. You,” Junhwe narrates aloud as he types, blatantly disregarding Donghyuk’s scandalized gasp. He has plans for this to be devastating. Forget breaking up with the love of his life or whoever she was, but mocking Junhwe for not replying based on a badly taken picture of him by his idiot friends? Now that was call for something life changing.
But for some reason—and despite the logical side of his brain screaming at him not to do it—he ends up typing Name a time and place and I’ll be there.
Shit.
“What?” Donghyuk asks, dragging himself around the dingy coffee table to peer at Yunhyeong’s phone. “What?”
“What?” Yunhyeong echoes, and now Junhwe’s sandwiched between two morons and the biggest mistake of his life. Both Yunhyeong and Donghyuk exchange a look as Junhwe groans and drops the phone to the ground, dropping his head to the table.
The sounds of his friends whooping loudly fills the room, and not for the first time, Junhwe regrets that he doesn’t have a brain-to-mouth filter that functions properly. This is almost as bad as the time he’d been sucker punched in grade school for mouthing off to a bully twice his size (since then Junhwe has grown considerably and has learnt to at least fake it enough to back up his claims). This, though. This he couldn’t get out of without looking like a complete imbecile.
“Our Junhwe has a date!” Donghyuk declares, clearly deciding to add salt to the wound by half-piling on top of Junhwe into a hug. Then, of course Yunhyeong has to jump in and turn it into an uncomfortable group hug of which Junhwe was at the very reluctant epicentre.
Junhwe nearly forgets about the date until he catches Donghyuk’s passive-aggressive message (“Myeongdong at 6pm! I made sure to wash your nice jeans!”) scribbled on their shared calendar. In his defense, he’d been trying very hard not to drown in his assignments. But he’s also been trying very hard not to remember that his thumbs had operated out of their own will and landed him into a deal for a very uncomfortable night. Or day. Could dates last for one hour? Or half an hour? Who’s to say that it couldn’t be five minutes long, right?
“He seems like a nice guy,” Donghyuk tries to assure him as Junhwe shoves his legs into his nice jeans. “I mean, musically, he’s good—“
“Pass,” Junhwe calls loudly.
“—and our messages have been pleasant. He doesn’t know we’re not you, of course,” Donghyuk continues. A little too flippantly, in Junhwe’s opinion, just because he’s freshly showered and sitting cross-legged on his damn bed with Yunhyeong and dinner to look for to. The universe’s seriously unfair sometimes. “But he’s... nice.”
“Thanks for the words of encouragement. Sorry, word,” Junhwe replies, considering if he should even bother combing his hair. He wanted to look like the epitome of reluctance. “And I’ll have you know, if you don’t pick up when I call, don’t bother keeping my contact in your phone.”
“Don’t be like this,” Donghyuk whinges, and there he goes again. Junhwe’s going to kick something. Preferably Yunhyeong, when he returns. “You’re gonna have a good time! But you’re gonna jeopardize that if you start antagonizing him from the get go.”
“Who, me? I’m getting a free meal and a movie out of this. Why would I antagonize him?” Junhwe returns sarcastically as he picks up his wallet and shoves it into his pants. “Don’t wait up for me. And don’t touch my stuff. And my bed is strictly off-limits.”
“We’re not going to—“ Donghyuk starts protesting, but Junhwe’s out of the room before he can finish the sentence.
If Junhwe had wanted to look like the epitome of reluctance, then Bobby’d (that can’t be his real name, can it? Would it be too late for Junhwe to do a quick google on him now?) just one-upped him by turning up fifteen minutes late in a washed-out hoodie sporting a serious case of bed hair.
Great, Junhwe tries to tell himself, this means we’re on the same page. But he can’t feel a twinge of self-righteous anger anyway. Did someone of Junhwe’s stature and looks not deserve at least combed hair? Was it because Junhwe’d been wearing his ratty old gym shorts in that picture?
“Hey,” Bobby calls out, dropping his hooding and his headphones to his neck as he grins, “you’re Junhwe right?”
“Yeah.” Junhwe forces a smile. Civility, he tries to remind himself, civility and politeness and this night’ll be over before he even notices it. “Bobby?”
“Yeah, sorry. Studio had some difficulties after someone tried to microwave aluminium foil.” Now that he’s said it, Junhwe can detect the smell of something singed on Bobby. It’s not a good first impression. “But I escaped with my eyebrows intact—“ Junhwe’s eyes flicker up questioningly as Bobby pulls back his unruly bangs “—so at least one thing’s going well for me this month.”
“Huh,” Junhwe says, because nothing can easily express more disinterest than that word. Bobby seems to be able to take a hint, even though his ridiculous smile doesn’t leave his face.
“Let’s go, the movie’s starting soon,” he says instead, and has the gall to actually elbow Junhwe.
There’s a reason why Junhwe’s agreed to his movie. The first being that people weren’t obliged to talk to each other for over two hours during a screening. The second being that if the movie was interesting enough, Junhwe was the kind of person that spoke through the entire thing, thereby earning him a spot in the Assholes Who Talk In Movies and Deserve That Special Level of Hell category. Dates usually didn’t call back.
But because the universe apparently had something against him recently, his experience ends up the deadly combination of a movie being actually interesting, and Bobby ends up being the kind of guy to end up straight in hell with him. They talk almost non-stop from the opening scene, so engrossed that the popcorn Junhwe’d intended to vacuum up laid forgotten and wedged between their chairs. So much so that he doesn’t even notice Bobby’s leaning in against him, pressed shoulder to elbow against Junhwe’s arm, and laughing in his ear. He only notices their proximity when the credits start rolling and he’s suddenly face-to-face with his date.
“If this were a movie,” Bobby starts, completely ruining the moment Junhwe would staunchly deny they were having, “we’d be kissing right now.”
“Yeah, sure,” Junhwe snorts, quickly pulling away. He’s glad for the darkness of the theatre, glad that Bobby can’t see whatever facial expression he’s pulling now because he wants to leave this night behind with dignity. “Face it, we met on the internet. This isn’t a date.”
“Oh yeah?” Bobby asks. There’s a hint of challenge in his voice that shouldn’t make Junhwe’s stomach do a funny, fluttering thing. He’s blaming Donghyuk for this. “Then what would you call it?”
A mistake, Junhwe wants to say, but he’s had an enjoyable enough night to have the capacity to be civil and nice and all that other stuff that didn’t end up with him being punched.
“Look, my friends messaged you or tweeted you—or whatever it’s called—that photo and I didn’t want to show you up,” Junhwe says, because after two hours of intense discussion on why time travel shouldn’t be plausible, Bobby deserves at least a modicum of respect. “They were joking. Mostly. Well, more like they’re joking at my expense, but they seem to like you well enough.” Bobby’s studying him like he’s just spotted an interesting specimen of frog he hasn’t quite seen before. Junhwe doesn’t like it one bit, but he soldiers on anyway. “So let’s just call this what this is—an accident.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Bobby says, “I’m pretty sure I can change your mind.”
This time, it’s Junhwe’s turn to raise his eyebrow challengingly. “Brute force isn’t encouraged,” Junhwe says.
“Who’s talking about brute force? By the end of tonight, you’ll be asking me out for a second date.”
Junhwe scoffs. Now here’s the Bobby he’d expected. Cocksure and insufferably smug even when Junhwe could upend the entire bucket of popcorn over his head. But Junhwe’s never been one to back down from a challenge, let alone one that’s as easy as this. The way Junhwe sees it, he gets to go for a free meal with someone he doesn’t want to run out on. That’s a pretty sweet deal.
“Okay,” Junhwe says, brushing the salt and popcorn kernel off his pants, “and if you don’t?”
“Then I’ll write you into a song about the one who got away,” Bobby says with a grin that seems completely sincere, slinging on his messenger bag as he gets up.
“I’m not supposed to be the one to get the punishment when you lose,” Junhwe returns, but he can’t quite help smiling. He’s blaming it on the fact that Bobby’s face is infectious. “Just don’t mention my name.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Bobby asks, carelessly slinging an arm around Junhwe’s shoulders. Junhwe tenses immediately—he’s just not good with physical contact, okay, it’s 100% not because Bobby looks like he hasn’t washed in several days. To his credit, Bobby retracts his arm and ushers Junhwe down the steps and out the door.
Junhwe starts realizing that he might actually end up losing the bet when Bobby drags him into one of those CD shops that still allow you to try out the albums before purchasing. It’s a little late, so there’s barely any customers in the shop, but Bobby had insisted on coming in (instead of getting food, like Junhwe’d intended, because he hadn’t actually ended up eating any of that popcorn) when Junhwe told him that he hadn’t listen to a single one of Bobby’s songs.
“I can’t believe you. I don’t believe you,” Bobby says, as he enthusiastically searches the shelves for his CD. It’s a little endearin— no, wait, hold up. It’s obnoxious to want someone to listen to your music. That’s like shoving your work into someone’s face and flat out demanding for compliments. Junhwe’s a pretty narcissistic guy, sure, but even he has yet to stoop to that level. Yet. Then again, it’s not like he’s churning out work he’s particularly proud of. “Got it! C’mon, don’t stand there looking judgmental.”
“I’m not looking like anything,” Junhwe protests, a little pointlessly, letting Bobby drag him along (and by drag, Bobby’s pinching the front of Junhwe’s jacket to lead him towards the testing stations). Then Bobby’s popping his CD in and thumbing through the walkman that looks like it fell straight out of the 90s, scrolling through his list of songs.
“Usually, I want people to listen to this shit in order of the tracklist,” Bobby explains, glancing up to Junhwe like any of this made sense. Junhwe’s capabilities and explorations in music honestly extends only to singing in the shower, so it’s not like he can comment. Bobby seems enthusiastic, though, and if Junhwe’s being honest with himself—like the uncomfortable sort of honest—then that’s enough for Junhwe to comply to whatever Bobby wants. Within reason. “But you look like a tough one, so... here—“
Then he’s shoving an earbud in Junhwe’s direction, stuffing the other one in his ear as he grins up at Junhwe and— right, they’ve only met for a handful of hours, and Junhwe finds himself readily agreeing anyway. It’s just one night. He’s going to win the bet. He’s going to be able to get over tonight without—
And then he hears the opening bars and Bobby’s voice and he finds himself struggling to keep his own face composed. It’s not like he’d expected Bobby to be complete shit, because his friends like Bobby, and he can at least trust his friends to have good taste in music even if their judgment of other people’s characters sometimes lacked sorely. But he hadn’t expected to find himself liking it, either.
“It’s not bad,” Junhwe says, expecting Bobby to retort loudly (like he’d been doing all fucking night). “Passable.”
“You like it?” Bobby says instead. Jesus, did his eyes have to light up like he just saw the second coming?
“... yeah,” Junhwe says, unable to find it in himself to even pretend to be disagreeable. “It’s good. You’re good.”
“I told you,” Bobby says, and then he’s back to that insufferable, smug person from the theatre. Junhwe wants to bash his head in with the walkman. Or kiss him. It’s a confusing duality of feelings, so he ends up shoving it to the back of his mind in favour of appreciating the song fully, bobbing his head to the tune of the music. He’s so absorbed that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Bobby’s belting out the godamn lyrics in the middle of the godamn store.
“Are you always this embarrassing?” Junhwe asks, suppressing the urge to smile because shit, people are looking at them. Junhwe likes attention, but he doesn’t like it to come served up with a side of judgement. “We’re in public.”
In response, Bobby only accompanies his singing with a little dancing, his shoulder jostling against Junhwe’s in the small space between both earbuds. Junhwe can’t help it—he laughs, mirroring Bobby’s actions in a way that’s only (and unfortunately) half-mocking.
Junhwe ends up letting Bobby take him through the rest of Bobby’s tracks on the CD. He’s explaining why it took five months and a cat to produce the last song on his CD when two girls approach them, looking clearly apprehensive and out of their element.
“So,” one of them starts and Bobby groans jokingly.
“Really? I came out like this and you guys still recognize me?” he asks, but it’s obvious that he’s not irritated. Junhwe reluctantly removes his earpiece to watch the conversation unfold. “I mean, to be honest I haven’t combed my hair since this morning—“
“—no, yeah, we heard you covering Go,” the second girl says, almost a little breathlessly. They’re fans, that much is obvious, but Junhwe, being the kind of guy that had never actively participated in this sort of exchange, isn’t sure if he’s more fascinated or wary. “Can you sign something for us?”
“I don’t know, can you?” Bobby teases as he fishes around his pocket for a pen and somehow manages to procure one from within the depths of his saggy jeans. “Who should I make it out to?”
And then Junhwe has to stand there and endure ten minutes of arduous but you’re so good! We love your stuff! and Nah, really? Which track is your favourite? Number 5? Airplane? Why?. Where was that humility when Junhwe was the one listening? Throughout the entire exchange, both girls constantly flick their eyes over to him, and it makes Junhwe feel slightly uncomfortable, to be associated with Bobby like this. He doesn’t want his face to be plastered all over social media accounts and those ten news sites Yunhyeong was talking about earlier when this is going to be a one-off thing.
“He’s cute, right?” Bobby asks, snapping Junhwe out of his reverie to realize that all three of them are looking at him.
“What,” he says instinctually, crossing his arms.
“I’m just asking them if they think I’ve got a shot for a second date.”
Junhwe could honestly walk out. There’s nothing stopping him from just physically leaving. It’s not like Bobby’s Donghyuk, whose feelings he actually has to keep in mind, or anyone else he has to maintain an extended relationship with for that matter. But he doesn’t. Instead, he’s pretty sure his face heats up and he scoffs as both girls giggle behind their hands. They don’t seem to want to smack Junhwe with their freshly signed CDs, so maybe he’s been watching one too many TV shows.
“They probably think the world shines out of your ass,” Junhwe puts in later, when the two girls have gone on their merry way with their Bobby-endorsed memorabilia.
“Great, you can take some pointers,” Bobby replies cheerily, pocketing his pen.
“Is this even allowed?” Junhwe questions next, gesturing between the both of them. “Aren’t celebrities supposed to... to portray sort of unattainable image or something?”
“Hey,” Bobby says, shrugging as he removes the CD and places it back into the casing carefully, “I’m just here to make music. Anything else they assume is their own problem.”
“You’re pretty confident for a guy who’s not gonna win this bet,” Junhwe says, patting Bobby’s back condescendingly.
A look of surprise flits across Bobby’s face for a split second, and then he’s grinning again, leaning over to stage-whisper in Junhwe’s ear, “Lemme tell you a secret: you're wrong.”