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The halo glow of the parking lot lights are a stark contrast against the black backdrop of the night sky, and Minho winces when he stares at them for too long. The parking lot is empty of cars, save for his and some other employees’, when both Minho and his coworker Hyunjin amble out of the entrance doors into the steady humid air of a warm March.
Minho looks at Hyunjin from his peripheral. It’s hard not to—to look at him, that is. He’s ethereally handsome, lithe, toned in all the places that make Minho’s mouth water. Easy to poke fun at. Easy to affectionately bully on the breakfast aisle, or in a dirty corner of the back room by the lift, or at a break room table scattered with crumbs. His giggles break musically; his eyes crinkle. His full lips split his face when he smiles wide in a way that makes Minho want to kiss him—somewhere, anywhere, here.
Hyunjin’s keys jingle as he retrieves them from his bag, Minho’s own already deep in his coat pocket. It’s 9:15 PM on a Friday, and Minho has nowhere to be now. The lot lights tower over them and cast cones of light over the roofs of their huddled cars at the very back.
The urge to ask Hyunjin if he’s free tickles at Minho’s teeth as he turns over the question in his head and in his mouth, but Hyunjin speaks first.
“Hey…” Hyunjin starts as he eases his stride into something slow. Steps turn into half-steps.
Minho tries to match his pace as he tells himself the pink color in Hyunjin’s cheeks is from the March air, despite it still feeling like the beginning of summer anyway.
“Hi,” Minho says. His lip curls when Hyunjin looks straight ahead, a nervous and shy twitch of his head that shakes his hair when he does it. Minho can smell his shampoo. Something rose scented. “How are you?” Minho jests.
With his hands deep in his pockets, bag slung across his chest, Hyunjin knocks playfully against Minho’s side and giggles. “I’m good. How are you?”
“Good,” Minho says as he nods. “Enjoying an evening stroll to my Accord.” At that, Minho tilts his head in the direction of his beat up little car.
They split, something reluctant in the way they pause and turn, to walk backwards to their adjacent cars. Slow and steady, eyes locked. Hyunjin clicks his key fob, and his car unlocks. Shy fingers dance at the driver side door handle.
“If you don’t have any plans,” Hyunjin says as he tugs his door open with long fingers, “um, Yeji is at her girlfriend’s tonight. So I have the apartment to myself…”
Minho’s smirk is undeniable, reaching his sly eyes. He narrows them, trying to be coy despite that deep thumping of his heart against his chest over what’s very much nothing. Hyunjin invites coworkers and friends over; he’s a social butterfly. It’s all over his Instagram and Snapchat and Facebook. This is nothing, and Minho isn’t special. And that’s okay.
“Are you hitting on me right now?” Minho jokes, anticipating the embarrassed, pseudo-mad splutter of What, no! Don’t be a dick that will soon tumble from Hyunjin’s mouth.
But Hyunjin doesn’t balk, he doesn’t shy away, much to Minho’s earnest surprise. “Yes,” he says plainly.
Minho halts completely, then turns his body to face Hyunjin head on. “Oh!” he says. He feels his heartbeat in his throat, warm and anxious and acidic.
“Uhhh,” Hyunjin laughs awkwardly, opening his car door even more. “Or we can pretend I never said this and we can unload the truck tomorrow in complete silence.”
“But what if I want to talk to you about what a good night I had with a cute boy?” Minho leans against the passenger side door of his own car.
There’s a pause, and Minho thinks he can hear the gears turning in Hyunjin’s head. His face goes from hurt, eyes wounded, nose scrunched, to surprise. “Me,” Hyunjin says, eyes wide, and then points at himself. His keys clatter when they hit against his chest. “You mean me.”
“Yeah,” Minho says as he laughs.
“Um.” Hyunjin looks to the side, then tucks his hair behind his ear before burying his face in his palms. “Okay,” he says against them. Embarrassed despite initiating. Cute. Too cute. “Yes, um”—he slides his hands down his cheeks—“I’ll text you my address.”
“I can follow behind you, too,” Minho suggests.
“Right, yes, duh, of course, sorry.” Hyunjin immediately throws himself into his driver’s seat and starts his car. The engine turns over, his headlights come on, and Minho realizes this is real—not banter, not empty flirting.
“You’re cute,” is all he says.
“No I’m not.” Hyunjin slams his car door closed absurdly hard, then awkwardly leers through his dust-specked windshield.
Minho mouths You are as he ambles to his own driver side door. Immediately Hyunjin honks his horn. Retaliation.