Work Text:
For Hanbin, routine was very important; there were days when he taught dance classes during the week, days when he went out with friends, a day for shopping to fill his pantry so he wouldn't have to live on instant ramen and coffee alone, a day he went on dates, which his best friend Matthew had recommended so he could finally find a partner to end his celibacy, and, of course, laundry days, on Tuesday and Friday afternoons, when he would usually go down to the laundry room in his building at 6 p.m. and spend about two hours there between washing machines and dryers. Everything was planned out, but even with all that, Hanbin never imagined how his entire routine and foresight would be shaken up.
It was a random Tuesday, when, after returning from his usual laundry routine, he was folding his clothes, enjoying the scent of the new detergent he had bought, when he came across a garment that he had never seen before; a white cotton T-shirt with a small red panda embroidered on the left side of the chest, simple but luxurious to the touch, too far from the usual flannels he wore. Intrigued, he checked the clothes again, and realizing that he must have mixed them up with someone else's by mistake when removing his load from the dryer, he decided to return it the next day by leaving it in the lost and found basket. In any case, he convinced himself that it wasn't entirely his responsibility, since the rules for using the laundry room clearly stated that dryers and washing machines should be checked thoroughly after use to avoid this type of situation.
The next morning, before leaving for dance academy, Hanbin headed to the laundromat with the mysterious T-shirt carefully folded in a paper bag, but before he could complete his task, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his crush from the building; a boy whose name he didn't know and whom he had only met a couple of times in the elevator, but who caught his attention and look like the most beautiful human he has ever seen, leaving a sign on the laundry room door with a dramatic pout that for some strange reason endeared Hanbin to death. The note, written in large, slightly crooked letters, read:
“FOR THE ONE WHO STOLE MY PRECIOUS PLZ DON’T DO ANYTHING DIRTY TO IT, IT’S A LIMITED EDITION. ZHANG HAO (072-507-1023)”
Instead of coming forward and confessing his mistake, Hanbin, feeling a pang of nervousness and a sudden spark of mischief, decided not to immediately reveal that he was the alleged “thief” and simply turned around and went to work, carrying with him for the rest of the day what now seemed like the most valuable treasure.
When he returned to the building, he went straight to the laundry room and, after making sure no one was around, took some sticky notes out of his backpack and stuck a note on the sign:
“𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕? 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒌.”
— 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓
The next day, which was Thursday, Hanbin had of course already planned everything, so it wasn't until 6 p.m. that he was finally able to head back to the laundromat. The night before, a completely new sensation had spread throughout his body, making his skin tingle with excitement, and although he didn't want to get his hopes up, he was tremendously excited at the thought that he might find an answer the next day. Much to his delight, written on a pink sticky note stuck on top of the light blue one he had left the night before, he found the answer;
“ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʀᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴜɪʟᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ɪɴ ᴘɪᴍᴀ ᴄᴏᴛᴛᴏɴ.”
— ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ
And so the back-and-forth exchange of notes continued for some days.
"𝑷𝒇𝒇, 𝑷𝑰𝑴𝑨 𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒏? 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒚. 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. 😴"
— 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓
"ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴍʀ. ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟᴇʀ! ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ʟɪᴇꜱ ɪɴ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ǫᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴛᴇʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴡᴇᴀʀ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ꜰʟᴏᴏʀ ᴄʟᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ʀᴀɢ!"
— ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ
"𝑰'𝒎 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆, 𝑴𝒓. 𝑹𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝑶𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒓. 𝑰𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏. 𝑰 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒑 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕. 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒔. 😉 𝑷.𝑺.: 𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒕 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏."
— 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓(𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓)
"ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ꜰʟᴏᴏʀ ɪ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴏɴ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀꜱʜᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ “ᴄʜᴇᴀᴘ” ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀɢᴇɴᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ɪꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇɴꜱᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ᴇxᴘᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ. ᴀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ᴄʀɪꜱɪꜱ, ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴍʏ ᴛ-ꜱʜɪʀᴛ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʜᴀꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀꜱ."
— ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ
"𝑨𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒆, 𝒉𝒖𝒉? 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻-𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒓, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓; 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆?"
— 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓
"ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ; ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴢᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ᴛ-ꜱʜɪʀᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪᴛ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴᴠɪꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴘɪɴᴋ ᴀᴄʀʏʟɪᴄ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ꜱᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴇᴍ. ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴀʟᴄᴏɴʏ. 𝟪:𝟢𝟢 ᴘ.ᴍ. ɴᴇxᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀʏᴇʀ #𝟥. ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʟᴏᴏʀ."
— ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɢʀʏ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ
At the appointed time, Hanbin, waiting impatiently, saw Hao approaching the laundryroom while his heart tried to escape from his chest. The prettiest boy on hearth stopped in front of him and, for Hanbin surprise, pulled a second identical T-shirt out of his bag, saying with sparkling mischievous eyes and a smile that disarmed Hanbin:
“Now, about that coffee?”
“Expensive, I remember" Hanbin smiled "I know the perfect place”