Work Text:
May 1996.
At a table littered with empty plastic takeout cups, a girl in non-prescription glasses and a faux-distressed band tee groans about a Russian montage film.
“I mean, like, I know that silent films are important and everything,” the girl says around her chewed up straw. “But they’re just so boring.”
One table over Minghao sets her pencil down on her notebook and rolls her eyes. “This generation is so fucked.”
Seokmin attempts to stifle a laugh which causes her to snort. Minghao wears an easy, pleased smile, and the irritated student continues grumbling over Eisenstein.
“It’s a bummer that not everyone can share such an eclectic taste as you,” Mingyu teases.
Minghao reaches across the table and swats her manicured hands at Mingyu’s arm. Mingyu leans back in her seat, narrowly dodging Minghao’s attack. Minghao glances at Seokmin who catches the nonverbal request instantly. Mingyu realizes she’s trapped when Seokmin turns in her seat beside her and begins to smile with too many teeth on display.
“Spare me,” Mingyu pleads, but Seokmin backhands Mingyu’s shoulder despite her puppy dog eyes. Seokmin manages to land three more smacks between Mingyu’s raised arms before Minghao intervenes.
“The library is no place for violence,” Minghao insists. Mingyu pouts her lower lip and sinks into her chair. Minghao pushes up out of her seat and leans over the table. The movement causes Mingyu to flinch. Her arms raise up to deflect incoming blows, but Minghao’s slim fingers wrap around Mingyu’s wrist. She lowers Mingyu’s fortified limbs and instead ruffles Mingyu’s hair.
“You know we love you,” Minghao says as she settles back into her side of the table.
“Funny way of showing it,” Mingyu mumbles. Seokmin rests her head on Mingyu’s shoulder, letting her affection transfer through the contact.
Seokmin appreciates that her friends agreed to studying together. She struggles to focus when she’s alone. She struggles to focus in groups, too, but then at least she’s not alone.
Seokmin has made peace with whatever grades she will end up with. She only wishes that meant her anxieties over the upcoming finals would quit manifesting in her nails. There’s only so much Minghao’s nail polish collection can cover up.
“Guys, I’m kinda hungry,” Seokmin announces. It’s a stretch of the truth. She could benefit from some food, but really she just doesn’t think she can handle reading the same sentence over again. Her brain is resisting all academic information, and she knows Mingyu won’t say no to grabbing a bite to eat.
“I’m down,” Mingyu says at the same time as Minghao rejects the suggestion to ditch the studying session.
“Nice try,” Minghao says. “We’ve been here for an hour and you’ve highlighted maybe two things.”
Seokmin appreciates that her friends agreed to studying together. She hates that it means she actually has to study.
“You’re only supposed to highlight the important stuff,” Seokmin protests. Minghao doesn’t seem impressed with the response. Her unamused expression is all it takes for Seokmin to pick up her seriously neglected highlighter and swipe over a few lines written in her textbook.
“I’ll bet that was really important.”
“Whatever.”
-.-.-.-
Seokmin does not fail her exams. Her nails are chewed to the point that almost every finger lacks a free edge. Seokmin can barely stand to look at her hands, but Minghao promised that she would paint the nail beds a pretty shade of blue.
Mingyu said the short nails make Seokmin look more gay. Which is perfect, because Seokmin is asking for the fourteenth time in the past two hours if she looks gay enough for this nightclub.
“Seokmin, everyone there kisses girls. That includes you,” affirms Minghao who wouldn’t pass as straight even if her life depended on it. Minghao wears a fitted leather jacket over a cutoff tee she thrifted from the men’s section at the Goodwill near campus. She sports a mullet that she cuts on her own, and there’s enough eyeliner smudged in her waterline that Seokmin believes it may be permanent.
Seokmin on the other hand feels far too preppy for the occasion. And far too underdressed. Mingyu insists that her camisole is perfectly appropriate clubbing attire. Seokmin is trying to take her word for it.
It isn’t that Seokmin doesn’t believe Mingyu. Mingyu has the credentials to prove herself knowledgeable, having been to numerous nightlife attractions long before Seokmin even had the chance to reject acquiring a fake ID. Seokmin prefers to stay in and watch old crime movies with Minghao. Which happened to work perfectly before Minghao betrayed her by going and getting a girlfriend that lives off campus.
Seokmin still watches movies most weekends, but school is over and she doesn’t have to lie about her age anymore. Thus, her excuses no longer work on Mingyu.
“Alright,” Mingyu starts, tossing a lip liner and gloss into her bag. “My girl should be there tonight. Let’s go.”
Seokmin follows behind Mingyu and Minghao as they file out of their apartment. A few other girls are gathered around the elevator, waiting for it to reach their floor. Seokmin scans their outfits and comes to the conclusion that Mingyu might be right. There’s a girl in a cotton tank top and blue jeans. Next to her, a girl wears a satin slip dress that stops just above her knees. Seokmin still feels a little silly knowing that these girls are likely wearing real makeup. Seokmin has on eyeshadow she scored from the drugstore and a Bonnie Bell lip smacker her grandma gifts her on her birthday.
The elevator doors slide open, and everyone piles in. Minghao presses the button to take them to the ground floor, and the machine groans before it descends.
“You look smokin’,” one of the girls says to Mingyu. Mingyu smiles, and it’s so flirtatious that even Seokmin feels butterflies in her stomach.
“You too, babe.”
Seokmin is jealous of how easily the words roll off of Mingyu’s tongue. If she had been the one complimented she would have froze and made herself a fool.
The elevator halts, and the doors open to release the occupants. Seokmin’s trio holds back as the other girls spill out and disappear into the lobby. Mingyu exists first, leading the other two as they venture outdoors.
“Did you see the way the one girl looked at you?” Minghao asks. Seokmin waits for Mingyu to respond, envy curling around her heart like restrictive barbed wire.
Mingyu spins on her heel, but her lips don’t move. Seokmin analyzes her face and admires the way Mingyu’s eyebrows fit perfectly on her face. Seokmin feels as if she can never pluck hers to look as good as Mingyu’s look.
“Earth to Seokmin,” Mingyu waves her hand in front of Seokmin’s face.
“Huh?” Seokmin asks. She hadn’t spaced out. She was waiting for Mingyu’s answer to Minghao and it never came.
“The girl,” Mingyu says like it’s supposed to help Seokmin. Seokmin turns to Minghao with a confused expression, and Minghao smiles in a way that shows she knows something Seokmin doesn’t.
“You are so oblivious,” Minghao says as she reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Seokmin’s ear.
“What do you mean?” Seokmin asks. Mingyu takes Seokmin’s hand and begins navigating around a cluster of people. Minghao trails behind them and offers no answer to Seokmin’s question. Seokmin asks again, this time a little more desperate. “What do you mean?”
“I mean there was a girl in the elevator that was batting her lashes at you,” Minghao says. Seokmin is being dragged by Mingyu but her head is turned to look at Minghao. This is why she doesn’t notice the guy walking straight towards her and knocks into his shoulder.
“Sorry!” Seokmin calls though the guy doesn’t seem to care either way. He keeps his cadence and carries on as if the encounter never occurred.
“My case in point,” Minghao says. Seokmin frowns, but Minghao shakes her head like the whole thing is endearing to her. Minghao lifts her arm and with a loosely closed hand points in the direction Mingyu is leading them in. “Just look forward, okay?”
-.-.-.-
“Are we allowed to do this?” Seokmin whispers to Minghao as Mingyu drags the trio further up the line. She feels like she’s breaking a lawful rule as they skip girls that are waiting to have their ID’s checked. She’s half expecting a girl to yell at them for cheating the system, but nobody calls her group out as Mingyu approaches the bouncer.
“Hey, baby,” a woman with a deeper voice says to Mingyu. She doesn’t look any taller than five feet and six inches, but she’s jacked. Seokmin has never seen biceps so big and defined.
“Hi, Seungcheolie,” Mingyu giggles. Seungcheol, the closest person to a bodybuilder that Seokmin has ever seen, wraps an arm around Mingyu’s waist. Mingyu is fluid in Seungcheol’s grip, folding over to rest her head on Seungcheol’s boulder-like shoulder.
Seokmin watches as Mingyu’s fingers play with the dog tags dangling from Seungcheol’s neck. Mingyu lifts her head and around pouty lips says, “I’ve got some friends with me today.”
“You tryin’ to get me in trouble, pretty girl?” Seungcheol asks as she sizes up Seokmin and Minghao. Seokmin tenses at the mention of trouble. She knew she should have gotten in line.
“I’d never do that,” Mingyu sulks. Her hands have moved from the chain to caressing Seungcheol’s bicep.
“Got ID’s?” Seungcheol nods at Seokmin and Minghao. Minghao hands hers over with ease while Seokmin nervously fishes for hers in her purse. Great, now Seungcheol’s going to think it’s a fake and Seokmin will have to go home. She knew she should have stayed on the couch and watched something Hitchcock.
Seungcheol does not investigate Seokmin or insist that she’s lying about the authenticity of the ID. Instead, she hands the plastic card back to Seokmin and tells the girls to have fun and be safe. Minghao drags Seokmin through the doors as Mingyu squeezes Seungcheol goodbye.
The sun had long disappeared from the sky, but the darkness inside is different from the darkness outside. Inside, there’s a haziness that Seokmin isn’t familiar with. In the distance, above the crowded dancefloor, strobe lights paint moving bodies in shades of pink and purple. Techno music blares from speakers Seokmin cannot see, and there is an overwhelming mixture of perfume, cologne, and sweat that swarms her nose. It feels five degrees warmer just in the mouth of the club. Seokmin knows she’ll leave sweaty even if she doesn’t dance.
“Drinks first!” Mingyu shouts over the harsh synth. Seokmin’s heart pulses with the tempo, spiking a little when she realizes that she has never ordered an alcoholic beverage before.
“What do I get?” Seokmin asks Minghao as they snake their way through hot bodies. Minghao has her hand closed around Seokmin’s hand so they won’t get separated, and Seokmin is thankful for the security.
“Play it safe,” Minghao advises. Seokmin isn’t sure how she is supposed to play it safe when the only drink she’s had is a sip of white wine on her birthday. She didn’t like the taste much and gave the rest to Minghao.
The distressed expression on her face must say enough, because Minghao registers that Seokmin doesn’t even know she’s supposed to say the alcohol first when ordering. “I’ll order something and you can have a sip of it. If you want one of your own, I’ll tell you what it’s called.”
There’s a line of people waiting to order, and Seokmin is far enough away from the actual bar that she can only see the top of a mirror. As more people receive their orders and disperse, Seokmin begins to see two heads darting around behind the counter. One girl has bleach blonde hair and her roots are starting to show. The other girl has dark, thick hair that stops and curls at the nape of her neck. Seokmin is having a hard time making out any other features, but slowly a space wide enough for Minghao and Seokmin opens and Seokmin gets a better look. The bartender closest to Seokmin, the one with short hair, is gorgeous.
She’s beautiful, and she’s handsome. She has sharp cheekbones but a soft nose. Her eyes are a dark brown, her lids free of any eyeshadow. Seokmin feels like her head is spinning and she hasn’t even had a drop of alcohol.
Seokmin watches as the girl with short hair fills a glass with a clear liquid. Her eyes trail up the bartender's arms, following the movement of her muscles as she finishes pouring the drink. This girl is lean but muscular, and her tank top allows for Seokmin to ogle at everything she can take in. Her skin looks so soft, and Seokmin has never felt the urge to take a bite of something more in her life.
“What can I get you, princess?”
Static. All Seokmin can hear is static. There’s a heat that washes over Seokmin, and the word ‘princess’ rings in the distance like someone has struck a tuning fork inside her head. Forming words is a lost cause, and Seokmin hopes she doesn’t look as stupid as she feels. The pretty bartender called her princess and all she can do is gape like a fish.
Minghao says something directed at the bartender, but Seokmin’s mind can still only wrap around the word princess. It had sounded so seductive coming from those plush pink lips. Seokmin would do anything to hear it again.
The bartender suavely retrieves a plastic cup from beneath the counter, her eyes lingering on Seokmin. Seokmin has half a mind to not stare or at least offer a smile, but the bartender has turned her back to grab something from the small fridge built into the wall behind her. Seokmin is too embarrassed to watch her finish fulfilling the order so she shifts her body to face Minghao instead. She leans in close to ask a question, in part because she knows it is the only way Minghao will be able to hear her. In part, she hopes that the proximity eliminates the chance that the bartender will hear the question. “Can I order soda here?”
Minghao smiles that sweet smile of hers, and Seokmin has the answer before Minghao opens her mouth. “Yes.”
The bartender places an opaque cup in front of Minghao and leans a little closer to share the price Minghao needs to pay. Seokmin takes the time to rehearse her order a couple times over. There’s even time for her to wish that the bartender will use the pet name once more. Minghao hands over a few crumpled bills that she had shoved in the pocket of her leather jacket. The bartender does a quick count, flashing a playful smile when she registers the amount of the tip.
“Make up your mind yet, princess?” The bartender is looking at Seokmin. The bartender is looking at Seokmin, and she is calling Seokmin princess.
“Can I have a coca cola, please?”
“You got it, love.”
There’s another fridge behind the bleach blonde bartender that Seokmin’s bartender grabs a can from. She pulls the tab and it’s impossible to hear anything over the raging techno, but Seokmin can swear she hears it pop. A scoop of ice is shoveled and poured into a plastic cup before the contents of the coca cola are emptied, filling the remaining space. Seokmin watches as veiny hands slide the drink across the counter. She waits to hear a price, but it never comes. Instead, she gets a smile, and the bartender is gone to the next patron.
“Come on,” Minghao says, pulling Seokmin away from the counter so that other girls can place their orders. Mingyu, having gotten her drink from the other bartender, is stood at a tall table waiting for Minghao and Seokmin.
“What did you get?” Mingyu asks when Minghao and Seokmin are close enough to hear her. Seokmin sandwiches in between the wall and the table, Mingyu on her left while Minghao takes a stance on her right. From here, she can see the bartender between pockets of people.
“Here.” Minghao hands her drink to Mingyu, offering her a sip. Mingyu’s lips wrap around the two little black straws and she nods approvingly before looking over to the drink in Seokmin’s hands.
“A rum and coke?” Mingyu cocks her head, guessing the beverage off the color.
Seokmin pulls her gaze from the bar. “Just coke.”
Mingyu laughs but Seokmin ignores her, opting to focus her energy on watching the smooth movements at the bar. Seokmin wishes she knew the bartender's name that way she could make her feel more real. A name anchors identity. A name means that Seokmin didn’t hallucinate the most gorgeous girl she’s ever seen, calling her things like princess and love.
A hand rests on Seokmin’s forearm, pulling her attention from the nameless beauty. “Try it,” Minghao says as she places her drink in front of Seokmin.
Seokmin obeys, trusting that whatever drink Minghao ordered will be good. The liquid is sweet and tart and a little citric, which she wasn’t expecting. It tastes surprisingly similar to cranberry juice. Seokmin examines the cloudy pink coloring of the beverage. There’s no way it could actually be cranberry juice. Seokmin looks at Minghao. “What is this?”
“It’s called cosmopolitan.” Minghao’s answer doesn’t offer much. As far as Seokmin knows, Cosmopolitan is a woman’s magazine that she scans at the dentist’s office. And maybe buys every once in a while when the headlines really catch her attention— last month’s catalog had an interview with Jodie Foster and Seokmin happens to love Silence of the Lambs.
“Vodka, cranberry juice, and lime juice,” Mingyu says as she counts the ingredients out on her fingers. Huh, so Seokmin was right. It really is cranberry juice.
“Do you like it?” Minghao asks. Seokmin glances down at the drink before her then up to the handsome, busy bartender.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s finish these, dance a little, and then go back up and order a couple more,” Minghao suggests. The idea of returning to the bar sounds appealing to Seokmin. She takes a large gulp from her own drink, half of it is gone by the time she rests the cup back on the table.
Mingyu is swaying her hips, antsy to get onto the dance floor where countless bodies press against each other, moving to the rhythm produced by the disk jockey. Seokmin is a little nervous to dance in front of other people, but the scene before her is so enticing that it almost outweighs her self-doubt. She figures that if Minghao sticks close to her then she’ll be okay.
All that remains in Mingyu’s cup is melting ice. She’s scanning the drinks in front of her like surveilling them will make them disappear faster. It almost works. Seokmin takes another gulp and suppresses a burp that threatens to follow the rush of carbonation.
“I don’t want to wait in the bathroom line after one drink,” Minghao says when Seokmin and Mingyu look at her with eager eyes. Her drink has barely budged from where Seokmin had previously taken a sip.
“I wanna dance,” Mingyu whines. Her bottom lip is extra pouty, and Seokmin watches in real time as it sways Minghao to drink a little faster.
“Go grab a spot and I’ll make my way over there when I’m done,” Minghao instructs. Mingyu’s pout disappears, a pleased grin taking its place on her lips. Mingyu grabs Seokmin’s wrist and begins moving towards the sea of hot bodies.
Mingyu has to push past a few girls to find space big enough for her and Seokmin. Once settled, Mingyu matches the repetitive electronic beats. Her feet move in time, never once stumbling in her heels. Seokmin’s ankles favor a pair of small chunky sandals, and she notices when she glances down that a few other girls thought the same.
It’s warm and a little sticky, and Seokmin finds that hands wander like bees fly from flower to flower. Maybe it’s the vodka, or maybe it’s the animosity of the crowd, but Seokmin finds herself enjoying the proximity. Eyes can linger on her if they so please, but dancing with Mingyu is all she needs to worry about and it’s refreshing.
Mingyu pulls Seokmin closer, and the two get lost in the music and the lights and the rush of accelerated heartbeats. Seokmin doesn’t know how long they stay like this, but eventually Minghao is joining them. The already crowded space shrinks even further, and Seokmin can feel the precipitation on her skin spreading.
The lights overhead alternate between intermediate colors, first a red-violet then a blue-violet. Seokmin thinks of the bartender again and wonders how it would look to see the colors flicker among her sweat-sheen skin. She wonders if the bartender’s hands would wander, if she could get close enough to feel the warmth of her panting breath. Seokmin keeps to the rhythm of the song, some house mix of a No Doubt song. It’s difficult to locate the bartender through whips of hair and moving arms, but Seokmin does her best. She finds that the bartender is leaning next to the bleach blonde bartender, and her lips are moving. The bleach blonde bartender says something back, her gaze following the direction Seokmin’s bartender is looking.
Wait.
Seokmin’s bartender is facing Seokmin, and her eyes are too. No, that’s impossible. There are so many girls on this dancefloor that there’s no way she’s actually looking at Seokmin. This has to be the vodka playing tricks on her. Maybe she’s at the beginning of a heat stroke and the hallucination symptom has started. That’s possible.
From where she stands, Seokmin almost makes out a smile on the bartender’s face, but a needy customer obstructs her view before she can verify the validity of such a vision. Seokmin’s mouth feels thick and dry. She decides she needs a drink.
“I’m thirsty!” Seokmin shouts so she can be heard over the music. Mingyu tells her that she doesn’t want to leave the dance floor yet, just give it one more song. There’s a girl with plaid boxers peeking out from a pair of jeans that has her hands snaked around Mingyu’s waist. Seokmin hadn’t noticed her before.
“Come on,” Minghao says, her hand catching purchase around Seokmin’s wrist. Seokmin lets Minghao guide them through throngs of sweaty girls. Some of them dance. Some of them kiss, and Seokmin finds that her skin tingles when someone with a short shag marks the neck of another girl.
A few people stand in front of Minghao and Seokmin again. Seokmin quietly steers Minghao to the left side of the line where her bartender currently strains something faintly yellow into a plastic cup. As covert as Seokmin tries to be, she knows Minghao catches the reasoning behind favoring the longer line.
Seokmin is positive she remembers the name of the drink Minghao ordered. Still, there is a looming risk that she will have forgotten and make a fool of herself when she reaches the counter, so she asks, “What did you order, again?”
“The magazine.”
Seokmin ought to have more confidence. Although she doesn’t think she’ll find it within the next minute. Not when all she can think about is the possibility she will receive a special pet name within that same minute.
“Another soda, princess?” Her bartender asks, and Seokmin nods incessantly, resembling that of a bobble head. Minghao’s forefinger presses into Seokmin’s flank.
“Oh. Um, actually.” Seokmin is trying desperately to remember a name that seems to have evaporated into thin air. Maybe it’s amongst the spills on the counter. Or maybe it slithered onto the dance floor and Seokmin will never find it.
Seokmin’s bartender is patient. She rests the palms of her hands on her side of the counter, leaning forward in a way that makes it impossible for Seokmin not to stare at her deltoids. Seokmin can’t hear anything over the pounding of her own heartbeat. Posed like this, her bartender looks fresh off the cover of a magazine.
“Can I have a cosmopolitan, please?” Seokmin manages without a stutter, and that is a win in and of itself. Her bartender’s response is the trophy.
“Anything for you, angel.”
Seokmin knows now is the time to strike up a conversation. She’s seen enough movies that have flirtatious scenes set at a bar— yet she’s coming up empty. It’s as if her bartender possesses a mind-numbing spell that only impacts Seokmin. True to its manipulative effect, Seokmin doesn’t seem to care.
The drink is mixed and placed in front of Seokmin all too quickly. She wants to stay, enjoy the drink and its maker for a while, but there’s an ever growing line of thirsty girls and little counter space open for Seokmin to linger. Overcome with defeat, Seokmin fishes through her purse to pay for the drink and finish out her transaction with the only girl she’s ever seen make a leather belt look so good.
“Don’t worry about it,” her bartender says with a wink. “On the house.”
Seokmin’s heart hammers in her chest. If it weren’t for her setting, she’s certain that her bartender would have heard the attempts her pumping muscle is making to escape the confinement of her body. Seokmin isn’t sure what to make of a wink and two drinks free of charge.
“T-thanks!” Seokmin squeaks. Her hands snatch the plastic cup before her like it’s scarce and fleeting and not full of a liquid that sloshes from the velocity of such an action.
Seokmin disappears into the crowd with Minghao before her bartender has a chance to say anything in return.
Seokmin is still a little frazzled from the interaction. She drinks a little too frantically and Minghao has to intervene before Seokmin can take another large gulp.
“Slow down. You’ll end up more tipsy than you want to be.” Seokmin attempts to take the advice, but she nervously sips at the beverage before her. “And you’re going to have to piss.”
-.-.-.-
“Why is the floor so sticky?” Seokmin asks with mild disgust as she and Minghao shuffle into the single stall bathroom.
“It’s best not to think about it,” Minghao replies.
She might be right. Certainly the liquids on the floor are just various liquors that have been spilled and never properly cleaned up, but the pink casted low lighting suddenly feels less like an atmospheric sensation and more like a ploy to cover up what the suds of soap cannot remove. Seokmin’s glad the lights aren’t UV; she’s seen too many crime movies to pretend she wouldn’t know the substances if the lights had been.
“You go first,” Minghao says, motioning to the toilet in the corner.
Seokmin walks the small distance it takes to get from the door to the toilet, the bottoms of her shoes sticking with each step. There are a few phone numbers written in permanent marker above the toilet paper holder. Seokmin takes note of all the initials coupled together in the center of hearts. A few individuals have marked their presence with carvings and a number of stickers are fading and peeling.
The music is muffled through the walls of the bathroom, making it easier for Seokmin to converse with Minghao at a respectable, normal volume. “I haven’t had to pay for any of my drinks tonight.”
Minghao smiles and Seokmin waits for some higher sapphic wisdom to follow. “Maybe somebody thinks you’re pretty.”
Seokmin pulls a considerable amount of toilet paper from its roll and wraps it around her palm as she considers the plausibility of her bartender finding her attractive.
“What if she can tell it’s my first time here?” Seokmin asks, finding that this might be a more reasonable explanation. Through a mix of inebriation and unbelievable denial, a worse realization dawns on her. “Oh my god, what if she thinks I’m straight. She thinks I’m straight, and she’s, like, taking pity on me or something.”
“Seokmin, by that logic, she should be charging you extra.” Minghao’s tone is only slightly amused.
“Okay, yeah. You’re right.” Seokmin is nodding and wiping and still uncertain that the reason she’s been getting free drinks is because the crushing might be mutual.
“Hurry up. I have to piss.”
-.-.-.-
Mingyu is going home with a girl. Or she’s trying to take a girl home. She’s not sure yet, which is why she’s standing out on the patio with Minghao and Seokmin making negotiations.
“You can stay with Junhui,” has been Mingyu’s main defense in why she should get the apartment to herself. Minghao’s objections have been the lack of preparation and how Seokmin would have to sleep on the couch.
Seokmin hasn’t said much on the matter. The alcohol is making its way through her system, she’s been fuzzy and cannot stop thinking about the bartender. Speaking on sleeping conditions has had of little importance to her.
“Let me have the place for the night,” Mingyu begs. She sounds like a broken record and looks like a kicked puppy. Seokmin watches in real time how it slowly erodes the firm wall Minghao is arguing behind.
“I need to call Junhui first,” Minghao says with a defeated sigh. “I guess it is better that you be in a place that’s guaranteed to be safe.”
Mingyu’s pouty lips twist into a smile, and she squeezes Minghao in a bone-crushing hug. Seokmin is pulled in though she isn’t sure by whom. Mingyu plants a kiss on each girl's forehead. “You guys are the best!”
Minghao mumbles something but Seokmin doesn’t catch it. As she’s released from Mingyu’s grip she takes notice of a particularly handsome girl in a ribbed tank top. Seokmin blinks a few times, thinking that all the vodka she has consumed has caused her to hallucinate her bartender standing on the patio. She doesn’t disappear. Seokmin’s bartender is standing on the same patio that Seokmin stands on now. She’s no more than ten feet away and there isn’t a bar to act as a barrier between the two. Seokmin’s heart pounds, her stomach tumbles like it’s preparing a gymnastic routine for the upcoming summer Olympics. Her mind is completely blank.
“I think she’s on a smoke break,” Mingyu says, pulling Seokmin back to reality.
“Huh?”
“The girl you can’t stop staring at,” Mingyu clarifies. “I think she’s on her smoke break.”
Oh. Seokmin can understand Minghao picking up on her staring, but Mingyu has never been as observant as Minghao so now Seokmin feels a little too obvious. She can only hope that her bartender hasn’t taken notice.
“You should go talk to her,” Mingyu suggests.
Seokmin thinks about it. She thinks about how the conversation could go, how it would go in a movie. She’d walk over to her bartender and say something smooth. The camera would pan on each face as they shared bits of information and some romantic music would lightly play in the background. Seokmin imagines a piano drowning out the sounds of the dance music that pours out of the opening and closing doors of the bar. She imagines that the string of incandescent light bulbs would make for a perfect moody lighting, letting the audience swoon just as much as she has.
“What would I say?” Seokmin asks. The script in her mind reads for a role she isn’t sure she can fill.
“That she’s pretty.” There’s a silent beat as Seokmin considers it. “Or that you want to fuck her.”
Seokmin’s mouth drops open and she reflexively smacks Mingyu’s shoulder. “I’m not a pervert. I am not saying that.”
“You are a pervert,” Mingyu says. She wiggles her eyebrows like she finds the topic humorous. Seokmin smacks her again.
“Her cigarette is going to go out by the time you get over there. Just say hi and see how it goes.”
Mingyu’s right. It’s better not to stall, but Seokmin doesn’t feel like she has any liquid courage in her. Maybe she should just declare it a lost cause and let it be a silly little crush.
“It’s no-” Seokmin starts but Mingyu is giving her a gentle shove in her bartender's direction before she can finish. There’s no backing out of it now.
Seokmin stumbles for a second, having been thrown off by the change in direction. Her head spins but not from the alcohol, rather from the air that seems to fill the spaces where conversation starters should reside. Her bartender is leaning against a brick wall with one hand nursing a cigarette and the other shoved in the front pocket of her jeans. Seokmin tries not to linger on her hands for too long. Her mind might start to wander.
There isn’t much distance left for Seokmin to close, and her bartender has become aware of Seokmin approaching. Seokmin casts a look over her shoulder to see if it’s safer to retreat to Mingyu. She’ll be leaving soon and she’s almost fine with letting the shame of the failed encounter consume her for the rest of the summer. Mingyu is staring at Seokmin with an open-mouthed smile and two thumbs pulsing in the air. It’s a little theatrical and a lot more noticeable. Seokmin really, really can’t pivot.
When she turns around her bartender is looking at her. Seokmin has to manually breathe as she cements herself in front of the girl. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in.
“Hi.”
Seokmin forgets to breathe out. It’s easier to hear her bartender outdoors where conversation is low and the music doesn’t blare, and she sounds a little hoarse. If Seokmin had to guess, it’s a result of shouting all night and smoking on an agitated throat. Still, the rough, nasally alto hi is the most attractive hi she has ever heard.
“Hi,” Seokmin says. It feels a little awkward coming out and sounds distorted to her ears. She’s off to a great start.
“Come for a smoke?” The bartender lifts her hand that occupies a lit cigarette. She takes a drag before extending her hand to offer Seokmin the stick.
“Oh, no. I, um,” Seokmin stutters, not sure what she is here for. There had been a gravitational pull, or more a push from Mingyu, that brought her here. There was some red string of fate tying Seokmin to this bartender, some higher force that orchestrated their collision. Seokmin’s eyes travel up the bartender's hand to the natural muscle definitions in her arm. Maybe Seokmin was just gay.
Her bartender raises an eyebrow in question. Seokmin realizes she never finished her sentence.
“I really like that,” Seokmin starts to point at the space behind her bartender, “that wall.”
Her bartender pushes off of the wall and looks behind her to the area Seokmin is still pointing at. “You came over here to tell me that you like this brick wall?”
Hearing it back sounds face-palmingly stupid. Seokmin silently prays that a hole will open up beneath her and that the Earth will swallow her whole. That or some deity will strike a lighting bolt down and electrocute her.
“Was that all you liked?”
Huh?
Oh.
Oh.
“Well, m-maybe not everything.”
Her bartender rests against the wall once more and Seokmin receives an impish grin in response. The sight looks heavenly and feels like winning. Seokmin would do anything to record this moment. She’d rewind it a million times until every pixel could be retrieved from her long-term memory.
“Do you have a name, princess?” Her bartender asks. Her cigarette has been brought back to her lips. She inhales and Seokmin watches as smoke billows out from between her lips.
“Seokmin.”
“Seokmin,” her bartender repeats. Seokmin likes the way the ‘k’ sounds against the ‘m’, almost like a billiard ball clinking against another billiard ball only to soften by meeting the padding of the pool table’s perimeter. Seokmin thinks about her bartender holding a cue stick, leaning over the table with precision and determination. She isn’t certain the heat that washes over her is due to the alcohol.
“You have a pretty name, Seokmin.”
The heat that washes over her is definitely not from the alcohol.
“Thank you,” Seokmin says through a smile that almost feels too big to be appropriate. “Um, what’s your name?”
“Jeonghan,” her bartender says. She takes another drag, this time letting the smoke stall in her lungs before she blows it away from Seokmin. “But my friends call me Han, sometimes.”
“Jeonghan. That’s a pretty name.” Seokmin feels giddy. After three hours of pining after a nameless beauty, Seokmin finally has confirmation that it wasn’t all in her head.
“Mm, thanks. Friends call me Han, though.”
Seokmin isn’t sure what that implies. She looks down at her hands, blue chipped fingernails staring back at her. She knew better than to have believed Mingyu. Jeonghan has gifted Seokmin her name and a front row seat in the friendzone all within the same minute.
Jeonghan snuffs the remainder of her cigarette in an ashtray resting on a table to her left. The smell of smoke lingers in the air. Seokmin has never been fond of the way nicotine smells; too many advertisements that show the effects it has on the lungs has petrified her, but she finds that she isn’t upset at the way it hangs around her now like a loose garment.
“Seokmin,” Jeonghan says cooly. It feels like a tug on a leash all the same.
“Yeah?”
“I know you like girls.” Seokmin doesn’t meet Jeonghan’s eyes immediately. The words smack into her brain with force but float and settle like dust as she processes them.
When Seokmin pries her stare from her fingernails she finds that Jeonghan has a gleam in her eyes. “How did you know?”
Jeonghan straightens her posture, stepping away from the wall and moving closer to where Seokmin stands. Fewer people are congregating on the patio than when Seokmin first arrived with Mingyu and Minghao so the volume is minimal compared to before. It’s the quietest it’s been all night yet Jeonghan stands close enough that Seokmin can begin to count the number of eyelashes attached to the most doe-like eyes she has ever seen.
“The eyes, Chico, they never lie.”
Seokmin feels like she could faint. “You’ve seen Scarface?”
“Hasn’t everyone?" Jeonghan asks. She’s still standing relatively close to Seokmin. Seokmin has lost count of how many eyelashes she has, but she’s noticed there’s a mole perfectly dotted just shy of the apple of her cheek. It almost mirrors that of Seokmin’s own moles.
“No,” Seokmin answers Jeonghan’s question. “My mom hasn’t. She’s not a fan of gangster movies. Which is really sad, because it means she’s never seen GoodFellas either.”
“Never seen GoodFellas?” Seokmin focuses on the slight parting in Jeonghan’s mouth as she settles on a perplexed expression. Like this, Seokmin can see the bottoms of Jeonghan’s top teeth. There’s a chip in her left tooth. Seokmin wonders what it would feel like to run her tongue along it.
“No, never.” Seokmin shakes her head. “I’ve been trying to get her to watch it for years, but she prefers noirs.”
“Ah, I see,” Jeonghan says, closing her lips. The smell of smoke is long gone, replaced now with the scent of musk and old sweat.
“I like noirs too, though,” Seokmin shares. A catalog of films flicker through her mind as she tries to single out the best one she’s seen. She lands on something unreleased. “Oh! There’s this lesbian noir coming out soon. It’s a little gangster, too. It even has Gina Gershon.”
Jeonghan’s lips curl into a smile. “It sounds fantastic, Seokmin.”
“Doesn’t it?” Seokmin’s beaming. Her hands are flying in the limited space between her and Jeonghan as she continues. “It’s making its debut in Venice, but it’s coming to theaters in October.”
“Actually, there will be a screening of it just south of here. Do you know about the theater a block over?” Seokmin asks. It’s the only building she’s truly familiar with in this area, the only place she ever really goes alone.
“I do.”
“Well on October fourth they’ll be showing it. I’m really excited for it. You should totally watch it if you get the chance,” Seokmin says. It’s warm for as late in the night as it is, and Seokmin likes the way that it feels.
Jeonghan goes to say something but her words are interrupted by two voices at once. Minghao is standing beside Seokmin though Seokmin hasn’t caught what it is that she’s said. Her ears focus on an irritated voice that tells Jeonghan her smoke break is beyond over.
“Well, I gotta go, love,” Jeonghan tells Seokmin. The ‘t’s feel like daggers carving pieces out of her heart. The ‘go’ echoes like a gunshot.
Jeonghan reaches for Seokmin’s hand, offering a farewell squeeze. She’s lost in the sea of people inside the bar before Seokmin has the chance to protest. Seokmin turns to Minghao who places a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“We gotta go, too. The last ride to Junhui’s house is soon and I really don’t want to pay a taxi if we miss it.”
Seokmin nods and trails behind Minghao as they make their way to the exit. She tosses one final look towards the bar where she can see the outline of Jeonghan tending to patrons. She whispers a goodbye and if Minghao hears it, she doesn’t say anything.
-.-.-.-
October 1996.
“Scarface?” Minghao asks, plopping down next to Seokmin on the couch. “Again?”
Seokmin crosses her arms over her chest but rests her head on Minghao’s shoulder. Their thighs press against each other while their ankles cross and their feet settle on the worn down coffee table in front of them. Mingyu found it for cheap and managed to swindle the old man out a few bucks. When she brought the table home there was a matching end table that went with it.
“I like the movie.”
“It’s been almost four months, Seokmin.”
Seokmin huffs. It’s not that she means to, she just cannot stop thinking about Jeonghan. Sometimes, she swears she’ll catch a glimpse of her on the staircase leading to her apartment but then she’ll see that it’s only a girl with the same haircut. Other times she’ll be on the subway, riding home from work, and someone with a mole on her cheek will sit across from her and Seokmin has to try not to stare.
“I’ll give it until the end of the week,” Seokmin says, her eyes still facing the screen before her. “If this feeling isn’t gone by then, I’ll change my name and move to Seattle. Or Saskatchewan.”
Minghao grabs Seokmin’s hand and intertwines their fingers. “Why do you have to change your name?”
“Well, if I’m going to run away then I have to go all out.” Seokmin says it like it’s obvious. “I’d probably have to dye my hair, too. And get a whole new wardrobe. I wouldn’t even be able to tell you where I really was.”
“You aren’t a criminal on the run, Seokmin.”
“How does someone just fall off the face of the Earth?” Seokmin asks. Minghao is rubbing circles into Seokmin’s palm now. The action is soothing and repetitive. Seokmin appreciates it, though she forgets to say it.
“That bar seems to have a high turnover,” Minghao starts. She’s still massaging Seokmin’s hand. “And even though the city feels small sometimes it’s still a city.”
Seokmin has lingered in spaces for four months: grocery stores, coffee shops, different laundromats to which she never uses and narrowly escapes getting in trouble each time. She’s hung around the library where she peruses the aisles and imagines bumping into Jeonghan. They’d reach for the same book, having been so lost in the titles that they hadn’t taken notice of each other until their hands were touching. Jeonghan would tell Seokmin that she hasn’t stopped thinking of her since that fateful night out on the patio and Seokmin would say the same. Seokmin would get a phone number this time and ask why Jeonghan hasn’t been at the bar. When Jeonghan asks how Seokmin has noticed her absence at the bar, Seokmin won’t mention how many nights she’s spent there and how every time she leaves without seeing Jeonghan, she goes home heartbroken.
Sometimes Seokmin imagines arriving at her theater, purchasing her ticket, and sitting down in her seat which happens to be next to a girl with black hair that stops just at the nape of her neck. The previews will play and Seokmin will break theater etiquette to talk to the girl whose hands are slender and pretty. The girl will respond and Seokmin will play it cool, because she’s known it was Jeonghan all along, but she’d only known her for a night and she doesn’t want to come off as desperate. Instead, she’ll act surprised. She’ll tell Jeonghan that she looks good and that maybe they should grab a bite to eat after the movie because now the previews are over and Seokmin can only break the rules for so long. She’ll go quiet and the two will watch the movie uninterrupted. But before Jeonghan can leave, Seokmin will ask her to see another movie– not now but later, and Jeonghan will say yes.
For now, Seokmin watches Tony Montana talk about his balls and his word while Minghao holds her hand.
-.-.-.-
It’s a Friday night, and Mingyu and Minghao are getting dinner together while they discuss a project for their design studio course. Seokmin is standing in line at the box office waiting to buy her ticket for the debut of Bound.
Only a few people stand in front of her, a couple who stand with their hands in the back of each other's pockets and a girl who looks to be in her mid to late twenties. Seokmin has gotten here early enough to secure her favorite seat in the house and to purchase enough concessions that she’ll inevitably feel a little guilty about splurging.
“One ticket for Bound, please,” Seokmin says to the crew member.
The crew member lists the available seats, Seokmin selects her desired spot, and the crew member hands Seokmin the ticket in exchange for the cash Seokmin hands to the crew member. Seokmin filters into the theater and the smell of popcorn fills the air. It’s a comforting scent, one Seokmin dreams she’ll always know.
Seokmin’s screening is off to the left, but she walks over to the concessions stand where another small line has formed. She watches as fresh popcorn pops, spilling out of the lip of the canister and landing on a bed of yellow, airy goodness. The sounds surrounding her are as comforting as the scent with kids giggling as they pull apart red licorice and soda machines whirring as people fill their cups with ice and carbonation.
“A large popcorn and a regular fountain drink, please,” Seokmin says when it is her turn to order. The unenthused teenager manning the cash register sets a regular size fountain drink on the counter and rings in Seokmin’s popcorn.
Seokmin feels sorry that the teen has to work on a Friday night. If she were in their shoes, she’d be bummed to be missing out on watching the debut of this film. When the teenager hands Seokmin her order of popcorn Seokmin tries to smile extra bright as she offers her appreciation for the transaction. “Thank you!”
“Yeah, no problem,” the teenager responds. They plaster on a rehearsed smile and say, “Enjoy the movie.”
Seokmin smiles once more before making her way to the soda fountain where she fills her cup with a coca cola. She seals a plastic lid over the mouth of the drink, grabs a straw, and heads off in the direction of her screening. The carpet is laid flat from the heavy foot traffic and the walls are beginning to show their age with the wallpaper peeling at the baseboards. Seokmin would get married in the lobby if she could.
The couple from earlier is sat in the row in front of Seokmin’s seat. They dig their hands into the bucket of popcorn and quietly make conversation about something Seokmin cannot entirely decipher. A few people are seated further along the row that Seokmin currently walks through. Seokmin recognizes one of the girls as a classmate from her philosophy seminar last semester. Seokmin’s hands are full so she cannot wave. Instead, she smiles but it doesn’t seem that the girl notices.
Seokmin settles her cup into the seat's drink compartment, freeing her hand so that she can open the seat and sit down. It creaks a little as she does so, and Seokmin hopes the noise doesn’t cause too much of a distraction from the advertisements beginning to play on the projected screen. The lights have yet to dim and other patrons slowly trickle in, finding and settling into their seats with varying levels of noise.
Many of the advertisements remain the same from the last time that Seokmin was in the theater, but Seokmin prefers to immerse herself in the thematic experience and begins to tune out the background noise around her. The house dims the lights and the previews start. Seokmin takes a sip from her drink, careful not to touch her popcorn until the previews are at least halfway through.
Seokmin times it so that the first popped kernel lands on her tongue when the last preview begins. She chews and someone shuffles to a seat next to her, muttering apologies as they obstruct the screen. Seokmin tries not to become irritated by the tardiness, at least thankful that the individual is attempting to be quiet and still has the remainder of this preview before truly being considered late.
Seokmin brings another piece of popcorn to her lips, pausing with the piece kissing the opening of her mouth as the smell registers. Seokmin smells hints of something musky, free of sweat but still clouded with cigarette smoke. The piece of popcorn fumbles from Seokmin’s fingers and lands in her lap, missing the bucket.
Seokmin turns her head in the direction the scent is strongest, leading her to the person who recently shuffled into the theater. And she is there.
“H-hi,” Seokmin whispers.
Jeonghan is looking at Seokmin and smiling. She raises a finger to her lips and without sound, shushes in response. Her smile returns as she slowly lowers her hand. Seokmin nods, compliant and not all too sure she isn’t dreaming. Four months and she finds Jeonghan in a movie theater. It has to be a dream.
Jeonghan leans into Seokmin. Sandalwood undertones and nicotine swarms Seokmin’s senses as the warmth of Jeonghan’s breath tickles the base of her ear. “Stay. After the movie, stay.”
A crumbled-up napkin with a series of numbers written in black ink rests on Seokmin’s lap. Beneath the numbers is the name "Han" scribbled in the same ink. Jeonghan’s hand lingers, waiting.