Chapter Text
Poetics Co-Op Executive Board
prezzie hanbin: Hi everyone! The exec board meeting starts at nine. Please be prepared to highlight your agenda and share ideas on bringing in new members
vice prezzie jiwoong: 🫡
trezzie matthew: there’s only three of us left, do we need a full agenda?
prezzie hanbin: yes
trezzie matthew: 🫡
It hadn’t always been this way.
This was a self-spiraling thought in a lot of ways; the kind of thought that Hanbin couldn’t resist and that Matthew did his best to dissuade. Matthew sighed as he sulked down the staircase and tipped the dregs of his energy drink down his throat. It was blue raspberry flavored, sweet and unbecoming, prickling down his throat. The week before his last year of University and here he was, Sunday morning, half-hungover, dragging himself to the executive board meeting of the Poetics Co-Op. It was briefly called the Literature Council, in a disastrous move which was deemed too stuffy. Before that, the Writing Club, which was deemed too simple. That was the name Matthew had joined the club under his freshman year. The name had been slowly shifting as each year passed in some sort of attempt to give the club a much needed boost in membership. Two years ago, when “Poetics Co-Op” was chosen, Matthew remembered rolling his eyes and passing an in-kahoots grin with Hanbin. That was before Hanbin was elected as president and solemnly upheld the name to respect his seniors who had since graduated.
Matthew traced his fingers against the grouted grooves of bricks in the basement of the computer lab’s hallway. Once, the Writing Club met in a library meeting room; on the twentieth floor. The room was framed with glass walls and overlooked the campus. Matthew could remember, most specifically, the feeling of looking down on the walkers-by and imagining the sorts of things they must be going through. The floor wasn’t quite high enough for them to resemble ants and so Matthew wagered that from up there, their humanity was, in fact, reinforced. The tabletop roleplaying game club booked the same space at the same time the year previous at the beginning of spring semester and the Writing Club lost the spot. The TTRGC club had priority for their larger size. Hanbin wanted to complain to the school that the Writing Club had been using that spot for years, but with their dwindling numbers and unimpressive showing, it was a losing battle to begin with. By the beginning of last year’s spring semester, only five remained. Three to graduate, until Jiwoong casually broke the news a few weeks later that he’d be staying an extra semester. Matthew remembered the way Jiwoong, relenting himself to the writing on the wall, gave Hanbin a kind smile.
“You have to let some things go,” he said easily.
Jiwoong suggested they use one of the abandoned offices in the basement of the computer lab (a heavily neglected building on the basis of the sheer ubiquity of laptops) and it had been that way ever since. It was the last room at the end of the hall; room 035. It had turquoise paint, linoleum floor, and a card table with folding chairs. It was inexplicable what this room could've been. The first time they all entered, Hanbin turned to the both of them.
“It’ll be our new start.”
Matthew remembered thinking that he could see through it. That there was a sliver of chord in that voice that held the truth. That maybe, here, in room 035, beneath god-awful fluorescent lighting, Hanbin would cry. It didn’t happen.
Matthew gave a sparing knock to room 035. A dry-erase board was clumsily attached to the door, half falling from a summer of neglect. ‘POETICS CO-OP!!!!” was written in loopy handwriting with a sunshine holding a pencil with one of its many rays. In the darkened hall of the computer basement, his own attempt at joy seemed somehow misguided. Hanbin swung open the door and grinned.
“Did you have fun last night?” Hanbin asked.
Hanbin, as per usual, is dressed as some sort of consummate professional. Matthew felt underdressed in his hoodie. He knows Hanbin isn’t judging him, per say. In years past, Hanbin would’ve gone to the party with him. They would’ve done a loose pregame at their apartment with the unsaid toast of “to us” before leaving. Despite Hanbin’s lack of judgment, Matthew still felt a pang of guilt for passing out on a couch last night instead of leaving the apartment together for their meeting.
“It was fun, Bin. Maybe next time,” Matthew said, letting his sentence dwindle.
“Maybe next time.” Hanbin said.
He slid an agenda in front of Matthew. It’s carefully dictated, printed. Matthew grinned.
“I guess you can’t trust two rizzlers like us to stay on task,” he said.
Hanbin stared at him blankly.
“It’s meant to be a joke,” Matthew added. It nearly panged some annoyance for him–they’ve been friends since the freshman year of University and if anyone should laugh at his cringy jokes, fucking damn it, it really should be Hanbin.
“Hah,” Hanbin smiled, humorlessly. Matthew sulked.
The door of 035 creaked open. Jiwoong eyed both of them.
“Jiwoong, you’re late,” Hanbin said.
Jiwoong flashed a peace sign. Matthew smiled at that. Jiwoong held a relaxed air that was easily dismissed for lack of passion. It wasn’t true. Jiwoong was one of the most passionate, hard working people he’d ever met. Even if it showed in a less overt way than Hanbin did, translating his passion through his striving attempts of constant professionalism. Jiwoong pushed his fingers through his own bleached blond hair.
“Sorry, my new roommate moved in, and I helped him unpack last night,” he said.
Matthew raised his eyebrows. It was an exceptionally kind-hearted thing to do. Jiwoong was the only person who he knew who still lived in the dorms at his age, much less the dorms usually reserved for freshmen. Jiwoong claimed he liked his space and resented the thought of moving. As if on cue, a sleepy-eyed brunette entered behind him.
“I told him he could say that,” he mumbled.
The freshman was tall and already seemed bored.
“Because it is true, Yujin. We spent forever unpacking boxes.”
The freshman, Yujin, casted Matthew a doubtful glance.
“I was trying to teach Jiwoong how to multi with me on PC, but he’s too old, so it took forever.” Yujin said, while Jiwoong yelped in disagreement.
“Well, thank you for coming to the Poetics Co-Op, Yujin. This is meant to be a planning meeting, but we’re happy to have any new, interested members here with us.” Hanbin smiled. He was diplomatic and warm. He handed Jiwoong an agenda. Yujin smirked at him and sat back in a chair, pulling his Samsung from his pocket and listlessly scrolling.
“Hanbin, it’s just a club fair.” Jiwoong said, his voice even and measured.
“It’s an opportunity for us to show that we’ve put our best foot forward for the year and to attract new members.” Hanbin insisted.
“Hanbin, this is my fifth club fair. Ninth if you count the ones in the spring. Every year, it’s the same. Bowl of candy, flyers. You get a group of freshmen, most of them bail, a few stick around, and one of them is your next Hanbin,” Jiwoong said, taking a seat next to Yujin.
“Next Hanbin?” Hanbin asked, voice bordering on a sigh.
“A clear-eyed maniac,” Yujin supplied with a mumble, though not looking up from the screen. Matthew cut in before Hanbin could even begin to process the comment.
“We shouldn’t overthink the club fair. We could use that energy to plan unforgettable events,” he said. Matthew, as the appointed treasurer due to lack of membership, spoke this knowing there was barely a dollar in their club account for any kind of event–forgettable or not.
“I always get a good turn out when I table club fair,” Jiwoong shrugged.
“Because you’re hot,” Matthew said, with a laugh. Jiwoong smiled sheepishly.
“The club could benefit from people who are dedicated writers, people like–”
Before Hanbin could finish his sentence, Jiwoong and Matthew made eye contact, expectantly.
“Hao,” they supplied, at once.
“Okay, this is not about Zhang Hao. I’m just saying–”
“That Zhang Hao is the best poet in our school by far, and actually maybe in the entire contemporary poetry scene, and also that you’ve been madly in love with him for years?” Matthew said, gesticulating his arms with a bit of wildness.
“Maybe we should stick to the agenda.” Hanbin gritted through his teeth.
Zhang Hao was a senior destined for greatness. If anybody could write the next classic novel it was him, and he didn’t even write prose. At least, this is certainly what Hanbin thought of him. Hanbin had attended a reading that Zhang Hao was a part of and upon hearing his poetry, fell in love instantly. Or at least, that’s what it seemed to Matthew. It wasn’t that Matthew disliked Hao–he just didn’t really know him. In some weird drawer of his brain that he stored all of the shit that happened between him and Hanbin freshman year, Hanbin’s open and blatant admiration of Zhang Hao hit just the slightest, softest sour note with him at times. It was a sort of dormant, negging jealousy that really had nothing to do with Zhang Hao, or Hanbin, for that matter–just with himself. It would be nice, is all, for someone to see him the same way that Hanbin saw Zhang Hao. That someone could admire him that much, his art, his composure–without even needing to know him.
“Look, you brought him up. Bin, maybe, you should consider just asking him to join the club.”
Hanbin sighed and pressed a hand to his temples.
“It’s not that simple. Besides, Hao is applying to grad school right now, the last thing he needs is another commitment on his plate.”
“He’ll have plenty of commitment on his plate when you finally tell him how–”
“Matthew, don’t.”
Yujin looked up from his screen.
“I don’t get the problem. If he’s stressed out, wouldn’t a club be more fun?”
Jiwoong nodded.
“Yujin has a point. Either way, we share a workshop section this semester. I’ll ask him to join.”
“As much as I appreciate it, we’re not having a meeting to try and figure out how to convince Hao to join the Poetics Co-op.”
“But we are having a meeting to try and figure out how we get more people. Hao is people.” Matthew pointed out.
“Fair enough.” Hanbin conceded, before continuing. “Matthew, you said that you think we should plan some events to attract members?”
Matthew knew Hanbin was simply trying to change the subject away from Hao, but he figured that his time was now. The last event that they’d held was a complete disaster–it was a “craft salon” which really meant there was nothing distinguishing it from a typical meeting and absolutely nobody came.
“We’ve got to do something unexpected. Something fun,” he said, standing from the table. If he put some real energy behind his words, he could even convince Hanbin.
“Something that the Poetics Co-op has never done before,” Hanbin added.
“Okay, okay,” Matthew laughed, rubbing his hands together. “Now we’re cooking. We should do something you can’t find in class. Something youthful, something new.”
“We could plan a trip somewhere,” Jiwoong suggested.
“Something that costs us no money whatsoever,” Matthew said, trying to continue the energy.
“That complicates things, but there’s still plenty of things that we could do. What about a book club?” Hanbin asked.
“That’s boring, isn’t it?” Yujin said with a sigh.
“Something that could even excite Yujin,” Matthew added, throwing some finger guns in his direction. Hanbin nodded and gave Yujin a generous smile.
“What do you think?”
Yujin just shrugged. Matthew drummed his hands against the table, sorting through the loose ideas in his head. He wanted to suggest something that could just be fun, the way the club had used to be. Something that would remind him of the first year that he’d joined with Hanbin so Hanbin would’ve have to attend meetings alone, back when they were in their first dorm, back when they could spend hours awake at night sharing their worst fears for university and biggest dreams and favorite songs and best writers, and, oh. There it was, wasn’t it?
“Why don’t we do an overnight write-in? A write-a-thon? A write-a-palooza, right at the end of the semester? We could do it in this room, it’ll be like a big sleepover, or something. We can all chip in for pizza, and with all of our hundreds of members we’ll only need to pay a few cents each.” Matthew could feel this little echoing bit of excitement in his fingertips. It was hard, sometimes, to stop himself from the kind of excitement that could reverberate through his whole body.
“I can buy the pizza. It’s a good idea.” Jiwoong said, tipping his head in Matthew’s direction.
“It’s nice to see you get excited about something for the Co-op.” Hanbin admitted. Matthew wanted to look at him strangely–even say to him, I do get excited about this club, but it’s hard when it’s gotten so serious and you’ve gotten weird about it and we’ve gotten weird about each other. But instead, he smiled. His sister always told him he was good about keeping the peace, even when he didn’t need to.
“Okay! Let’s plan on it, in that case. It’ll be our new tradition at the end of the semester.”
“Let’s put it to a vote, for formality’s sake. Everyone who thinks that it’s a good idea, raise your hand.” Hanbin said. The three of them raised their hands and Yujin even tossed his hand up for a moment.
Hanbin smiled and Matthew felt himself exhale a breath he didn’t know that he was holding in.