Chapter Text
“He’s so my type,” a girl said as she let out a heavy sigh, while she was scrolling slowly on her phone, straw pressed against her lips. She was sitting with her friend at a café, still dressed in their uniforms as they’ve just come from school.
Her friend grimaced. “Ew, I’m not into those,” she sneered. “The obsessive types.”
The other gasped and turned towards her friend. “You’re joking! What’s not to like? He only thinks of you. He only wants you. His whole life revolves around you!” She listed as she counted the points on her fingers. “He’d even die for you. And that’s just so…”
“Creepy!”
“Romantic!” the girl snapped at her friend. She then clicked her tongue. “You just don’t get it. You don’t have mature tastes like I do.”
“You’re the one talking about an anime character,” the friend remarked, then taking a long sip from her drink.
“YAH!” the other yelped, slamming her phone down onto the café table. The screen was visible for all to see, as was the beautiful anime character with long purple hair, dressed in historical garb.
Jisung smirked as he walked past the duo, catching a glimpse of the screen. He couldn’t recognize the character, but he knew the type. Obsessive men flooded the pages of romance novels and manhwa, fawned over by readers. Idols sang about all-consuming and undying love, and plebs would scream the songs into the noraebang’s microphone, while soaked with tears and alcohol.
But obsessive men didn’t exist in just the realm of fantasy. Dating in Korea was filled with both obsessive men and women. Constant contact was expected, whether it was through SNS, calls, or even something more physical. Jealously flared easily. Friends quickly turned into rivals. Isolating each other became another form of devotion.
Or at least dating was like that. However, things were quickly changing in this fast paced world. Social norms sprinted along with it. Heck, Jisung was just able to walk up to the counter and swipe a drink from it, without ever talking to a single person. A few years ago, he would’ve been accused as a thief. Now, everyone knew that he was just one of many picking up a mobile order. The modern world was a marvel.
But not everyone and everything could keep up with the pace of progress.
Jisung’s phone rang as soon as he stepped out of the café. His teeth automatically clenched. He then relaxed his jaw as he fished out his phone from his pocket. He took a breath and smiled as he answered the call. “Hello, hyung. What is it?”
“Where are you? You aren’t at rehearsals.”
“I stepped out for a break,” he kept his tone light as his steps got lighter too. He had to hurry. “But what are you doing there? You didn’t tell me that you were coming.”
“Can’t I be here? No one else minds.”
Jisung flinched before replying softly. “And I don’t mind either. But a head’s up would’ve been nice.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise. I brought the donuts that you like, from that one bakery near my office. I got enough for everyone. If you don’t come back soon, they’ll all be gone.”
“I’m almost there.” Jisung was lightly jogging now. “Can’t you just save me one?”
“If you come quickly, then I won’t have to.”
The line went dead.
Jisung sighed as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. His coffee run had turned into a literal run back to the theater. He began regretting it all.
Once back into the theater, the crew was milling about. Sets were being constructed. Costumes were being tried on. Actors scrambled to memorizing those few tricky lines and blocking. They were all on standby, waiting to rehearse Act 1 for the nth time. Jisung had managed to sneak out for some much need sunshine and caffeine. And in the meantime, an interloper snuck in, with snacks.
Jisung spotted the man, holding a prop tree upright as the stage-hand secured it to the base. There was something attractive about seeing his boyfriend like this. His work shirt was pushed past his elbows. His carefully styled hair was gradually falling out and framed his face. The tip of his tongue snuck past his lips as he focused on the task.
Even after sixteen years together, his boyfriend still made his heart skip a beat.
Ah, wait, he was supposed to be annoyed. That’s right. He’d almost forgotten. But Jisung couldn’t let it show on his face. Even though he knew perfectly well why his boyfriend had shown up, it was under a pretense of a “surprise.” He had to keep up the rouse for appearance’s sake.
“Hwashin! What a surprise!” Jisung sounded like they just hadn’t talked on the phone, moments earlier. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?”
Hwashin flipped the hair out of his eyes and glanced over at Jisung, who was climbing onto the stage. He flashed a very bright smile, as if he was the musical actor. “I finished up early.” He then let go of the prop tree after seeing it was secure. Slowly he sauntered over to Jisung, speaking lowly. “I haven’t seen you all week. Don’t you miss me?”
Jisung leaned in, hand on the other’s arm. “Of course, but you know how it is when we’re this close to opening.” His eyes darted around to his castmates, who were pretending not to listen. But their furtive gazes pricked against Jisung’s skin. He was all too sensitive to it. “There’s…” He licked his dry lips. “…not enough time. For anything.”
“And you know how lonely I get when you’re not home.” Hwashin’s eyes weren’t even on Jisung; they were on the ground. “What’s the point of living together if I don’t see you every day?” He’d taken Jisung’s hand off of his arm and was now squeezing it tightly, too tightly.
“I see you every day,” Jisung joked. But it was true. Whenever he woke up or went to bed, Hwashin was still in bed, asleep. He wriggled his hand away from the other, and when he did, he patted the other on the shoulder. “It’ll be over soon.”
“I know, but I still don’t like it.” Hwashin finally lifted his gaze up to the other. “You hate that I’m here, don’t you?”
“I don’t hate it,” Jisung spoke softly. Then in a hiss, “I told you that there’s nothing to worry about. Trust me.”
Hwashin frowned. “I trust you, but I don’t trust him.”
Thankfully, one of the crew members walked up to them. “Hwashin-ssi, thank you for the food.” Her smile was entirely professional. “You come by and help us so much that we’re considering adding you to the payroll.”
Hwashin took it as a compliment. “Aw, it’s nothing really.”
The crew member gave a short but polite chuckle in reply, and then turned towards Jisung, face falling flat. “We’re doing the open number.”
“Got it,” Jisung muttered. He then looked over at his boyfriend. “You staying to watch?”
“Of course!” Ah, his smile was too bright. He then took the coffee cup away from the other. “I’ll keep this safe for you.” He began to drink it as he walked towards the seats.
Jisung sighed and rubbed his weary eyes. When he opened them again, he watched Hwashin settle into the back rows of the theater. Well, at least there was that. Hwashin knew how to stay out of the way. He’d learned proper etiquette throughout Jisung’s long stage career, from when Jisung was nothing more than a chorus member and performing in student-run theaters to now when he had a leading role. Jisung was becoming a staple in the Korean musical scene, and so was his partner.
Gay musical actors were no less unusual than men wearing stage makeup. The only reason why Jisung’s relationship with Hwashin drew eyes was because of Hwashin’s handsome and clean looks. Hwashin was an accountant and ostensibly so, always dressed in a suit and tie, with his hair slicked back. He easily stood out in the sea of actors dressed in leisure wear. And that’s how he liked it. Jisung could spot him easily.
And Jisung did see his boyfriend, chewing voraciously on the straw of the coffee.
“Hey, Han!” A hand clapped onto his shoulder. Jisung didn’t have to look over to know who it was: the handsy assistant director Chris. Chris was still new to musical scene in Korea, but he had already made a name for himself back in his home country of Australia. Or at least, that’s what they say. Truthfully, not much was known about this guy who had suddenly burst onto the scene with his fresh perspective, not even his age. When asked, Chris would say, “Nah! If I tell you, then you’d lose all respect for me.” No one ever knew what that meant. But they knew that Chris was good at his job, so they learned not to pry. And the last thing Jisung wanted to do was offend Chris. Jisung’s dream, the whole reason why he pursued this career, was to write and produce a musical. A musical that push the boundaries of what the art form could do. To do that, he could really use assistance from a person like Chris. Maybe they could work more closely together and…
His breath clung to the sides of his throat, causing him to cough. Just the thought of working with Chris caused Jisung to panic. All because…
“Oh no!” Chris exclaimed, now patting the other’s back. “Don’t tell me that you’re getting sick!”
“No,” Jisung replied, gaze fixed on the ground. He shuffled to the side and away from the other. He took in a deep breath before raising his eyes to the man in the seats. Hwashin was staring right back, hotly. “I just swallowed wrong. I’m fine.”
“Okay,” the assistant director yielded, drawling out that word for a beat too long. “You know where you are for this scene, right? We’ve only changed it about fifteen times. But I think it’s finally settled. Or it fucking should be because we’re opening soon. Right?”
“Yeah, right.” Jisung was distracted but forced on a smile. “I know. I’ll go there now.”
“Oh! Yeah! Of course! You’re a professional!” Chris called after him. “I’m just gonna check in with the others who aren’t so pro.” Chris’s loud voice barely became smaller as he walked towards the back of the stage. “Hey, Hana! Where the heck do you think you are? You’re supposed to be over there!”
Jisung stood at his mark. He opened his eyes, looking right at his boyfriend, whose glare sparked.
His name suited him perfectly. Hwa, hwa, hwa…his emotions flared violently under his skin; the sparks flew from his eyes. Hwa, hwa, hwa…
Obsession ignited the flames of jealousy so easily.
And Jisung was growing tired of being burned by it.
They met in high school. It really was like a story from a manhwa. Jisung was the Golden Boy, the one who seemed to have it all figured out and for whom everything just fell perfectly into place. Yet inside he was a mess. He wasn’t perfect, not even close. He was terrified of not meeting people’s expectations. And he was already falling short. He didn’t like “cool” things, spending time watching animal documentaries rather than gaming “with the boys.” He’d rather sing musical numbers at karaoke but forced himself to learn all the trendy songs instead. Sometimes when people would text him to hang out, Jisung would reply “What to do? I already have plans with someone special.” That someone was really his dog, and the plan was to go for a walk.
“Man, Han Jisung is really popular. It’s hard to get him to hang out with us. He’s always busy.”
Ah, but that really wasn’t the case, was it? Han Jisung intentionally put space between himself and his classmates lest they find out.
The number one disappointing fact about Han Jisung: he was attracted to men.
And their typical “golden boy,” who was nothing more than weak aluminum wrapped in gold plating.
But that gold plating shone brightly, as did Jisung’s smile. It radiated warmth, comradery. Han Jisung was friendly with everyone, but did he have a true friend? Someone who understood him inside and out? Someone who loved him? No. But that was alright. The golden boy had the affection of everyone. Han Jisung could be fine with that.
Or at least he was, until his senior year, only steps away from graduation.
Enter Hwashin, the gloomy and serious student, sitting in the corner of the room with his dark bangs hanging over his face. Hwashin was almost famous for being overlooked. It was always “Oh yeah, that guy…what was his name?”
It was honestly impressive that one with such a tall and broad frame could slip into the background like that. But that was teenage Hwashin, barely more existent than a shadow.
When they had first become desk partners, Jisung was relieved. He could sit in comfortable silence with this guy, waiting for their last year to end. But what had happened next was anything but comfortable.
The flutterings and the pains of first love.
Just in the shoujo anime that Jisung wasn’t supposed to like, the wind gently parted Hwashin’s bangs, the light kissed his features, but for just a moment. But it was long enough for Jisung to see the other’s handsome face and fell in love.
Jisung was almost ashamed to be so shallow, to fall for someone just because of their face.
Not it wasn’t because of a face. It was because of Hwashin’s face. Another boy with a veneer, like him. Yet Hwashin was golden at his core unlike him. The gloomy student’s kindness was just as overlooked as he was, from cleaning messes that he did not make to feeding stray cats that no one ever noticed.
And now that Jisung had noticed, he couldn’t look away. Now he spent a good chunk of every class trying to catch glimpses of Hwashin’s handsome features. Which meant that the two of them could spend even more time together after school, when Jisung would copy Hwashin’s notes.
“What do you even do the entire time in class?” Hwashin genuinely sounded concerned. “Do you sleep with your eyes open? You might not graduate at this rate.”
“It’s just hard to focus…” when you’re next to me, Jisung swallowed those words down.
“Try,” kindness can be blunt too. “There’s not much time until graduation.”
Don’t remind him about it! Jisung had been praying that these years to fly past, only to wish now for time to stop. Even spending the late afternoon copying down notes in near silence, watching the sun drift down into the night, Jisung didn’t want it to end. Yet at the same time, he was fighting the instinct to run away, as he always had, before the other could get close enough to notice who Jisung actually was.
Ah, it was just like a shoujo romance, when the female lead ardently and repeatedly denies her love until the very end.
Even when Hwashin hugged him during the school MT, thanking him for being his first real friend, Jisung’s arms stood still at his side, unable to hug the other back.
Because, you know, he wasn’t gay, or so he was still trying to convince himself.
So after the school trip, Jisung distanced himself from Hwashin. And noticing this, Hwashin did the same; however, he couldn’t slip back into the shadows as he used to. Jisung had brought Hwashin into the light for all to see. And people befriended the former loner. Meaning, Jisung couldn’t run away from Hwashin as much as he tried, nor could he escape the other’s gaze burning with contempt.
It was such a thin line between love and hate for Hwashin. As easily as he warmed up to Jisung, he grew just as cold.
People forget how soft and malleable gold can be, how it tarnishes when it isn’t cared for.
Jisung thought Hwashin would hate him forever. And he thought he’d be okay with that.
It wasn’t okay. It hurt.
However, like an anime, everything is resolved in the final episode.
On graduation day, Jisung broke the silence between them. “Good luck at uni, man. See you around!”
Click.
It was a thin line between love and hate.
Hwashin had managed to lock themselves in their old classroom, alone.
“Is that ‘see you around’ as in ‘goodbye’? Or will you actually see me again?” Hwashin asked. “You have to tell me. I really don’t know what it means: see you around.”
“And aren’t you our valedictorian?” Jisung joke, getting ready to run away again. His trembling hands fumbled with the door. “What did you do to lock this thing?”
“Do you hate me that much?”
Jisung froze. “No.”
“Then…do you like me?”
“Of course.”
“In what way?”
“What do you mean?”
Hwashin had him cornered, pinned against the wall. “You have to tell me. I really can’t tell.”
“I mean…I do, but how…” Jisung couldn’t say, but his expression spoke for him, darting eyes, pouty lips and flushed cheeks.
And that was all the answer Hwashin needed.
In that old classroom, on their graduation day, they shared their first kiss. And when the day died into the night, Jisung could finally say, “I like you.”
They began dating. And it soon became evident: Jisung had fallen in love first, but Hwashin fell the hardest.
“You’re the only one for me,” Hwashin would say. Jisung had loved that, being so loved and fawned over. Jisung had always wanted someone to see the real him, and Hwashin did and loved him back. It made Jisung feel special. At times, it made him feel like a god.
It did wonders for his fragile ego.
Jisung had enjoyed the constant flood of texts, the surprise visits, and even the spurts of jealousy. It all meant that Jisung was just so loved. Hwashin only wanted to be with him, no one else. That there could never be anyone else, for either of them.
This was the all-consuming, obsessive love that Jisung had read in manhwa and watched in anime. He was living it!
Hwashin was also the only one for him, the only one that he’d ever dated, the only one that he’d ever loved…the only one ever.
And at the age of 34, Jisung honestly could not remember life before Hwashin. It was more than being someone’s other half. They were part of each other’s being.
Was it possible to survive without each other now? If not, was that a good thing?
As an adult, still struggling to feel “grown up” and “independent,” Jisung would find himself asking those questions over and over again.
Even now, as Hwashin hugged him in the parking garage before getting into the car. “You’re the only one for me,” he whispered into the other’s ears. Jisung’s arms stayed limply at his side.
Why did that sound like a burden now?
Jisung sat up in his bed, watching the man sleep next to him. Hwashin looked so calm and gentle, not a single worry disturbing his sleep. For as much as Hwashin fretted over Jisung during the day, at night, when it was just them, Hwashin was so lovely. Jisung loved him, so much.
But there was always a seed of resentment, sown deep within his heart. Where had it come from? Jisung didn’t know. He tried to do all that he could to stop it from growing.
After all, he loved Hwashin. He really loved him. Jisung just needed to remind himself of that. He needed to show it more.
Next week was Hwashin’s birthday. It was a good opportunity to do just that. The show would start and Jisung wouldn’t be working every day anymore. He could focus entirely on Hwashin, just as he liked it.
Jisung reached for his phone and began planning.
“Don’t forget. Suho’s school has parents’ day next week.”
Crash! The bowls dropped into the sink with a heavy thud, followed by an even heavier sigh. “I know,” her voice was tense, her teeth probably clenched. “Stop making it seem like I know nothing about our kids.”
Lee Minho removed his glasses so that he could rub his aching head. He was at their table, documents spread out before him. He was working through the accounts of his client, who was in a tricky lawsuit with a supplier. Minho’s head was already spinning, trying to make sense of all of this, and now his (still) wife had made it spin even faster. “It wasn’t an attack. I was just reminding you,” his voice betrayed how tired he was, of everything.
“Of course, you were. Always reminding. As if I had holes in my head,” she mumbled under her breath, but Minho could still hear. They were only a few steps away from each other, the closest they’ve been in a long time, but still barely tolerable.
Minho held his tongue, pretending like he heard nothing. It was better this way lest his kids heard anything.
“You’re the one who’d forgotten,” she spoke as she scrubbed furiously the dishes. “I can’t go. I’ll be away next week.”
Ah, right. Minho had forgotten. So, so much had been going on recently. And with the distance that they’ve been intentionally putting between each other, Minho put no effort in learning her schedule. Was he supposed to? He didn’t know. This was his first time getting divorced.
“I’m sorry,” Minho was saying all too often these days.
They weren’t always like this. They weren’t always mad at each other. They were once madly in love. Yes, they were crazy to even be in love with each other in the first place. Their social statuses couldn’t have been more different.
When Minho first met Subin, he was a dirt poor, college student. He had several part-time jobs to pay for his tuition and to send money back home. He was an only child, and his good natured parents had trusted the wrong people. The family was in crippling debt. And as much as his parents swore up and down that they had it handled, Minho still did what he could for his family, even if it meant eating rice with one fried egg (a luxury) in a cold basement apartment, while he deposited most of his earnings into his parents’ account.
It was the stereotypical set-up for a drama. All he needed was for a third generation chaebol to break onto the scene, dripping with so much money that a trail of bills would be left behind their steps. And Minho would follow behind, hands and knees on the floor, scrambling to pick them up.
But it didn’t quite happen like that. Instead it was just one very large bill that Subin accidentally dropped when she was trying to tip the pizza delivery guy (Minho). Still Minho had gotten onto his knees to pick it up. And when he’d gotten back up, their eyes met.
It was the first time Subin paid any heed to the delivery guy, and her heart was stolen by him.
The same couldn’t be said for Minho. He took the large tip and was onto his next delivery. To him, Subin was another costumer, paying too much for mediocre pizza.
She wasn’t just a customer though, she was also his classmate. The following day, they realized that they were in the same lecture. They had the same major. Minho was on a scholarship. Her family’s name was emblazoned on the building.
For a while, Minho lived out his Cinderella story. Subin courted him with all of the forwardness and entiltedness of a princess who had always gotten her way. So Minho took satisfaction in rejecting her advances, every time. He was too busy for romance, he’d say. His work and his studies ate up all of his time, just as greedily as Subin would eat up all of the pizzas that he delivered.
He rejected her advances, but never her. He made that clear. So they would play this cat-and-mouse game. Subin would try to catch him with her wiles and charm, and Minho would wriggle away at the last second, leaving her disappointed but never discouraged. She knew that one day, she’d ensnare him
In a typical chaebol fashion, she bought out the pizza place for the night, thereby purchasing his time. And they went on their first date. It wasn’t anything fancy though because Minho was the one to take the lead for once. He took her to a restaurant that he could afford, a family-owned spot near campus, and they walked for the rest of the night, sharing stories and getting to know one another.
Just like that, Minho was caught, but the game was still afoot. This time, Subin and Minho were on the same side. Their adversaries were, of course, her family. Once they learned that Subin was dating a nameless student seriously, her parents tried to break them apart. They had tricked their daughter onto dates, under the guise of networking. They had even tried to pay Minho off, and when he refused, they had him fired from his part time jobs.
Maybe Minho should’ve caught his losses then, knowing now where their relationship ended up. But the more that her parents tried to break them up, the harder he and Subin held onto each other. Were they really in love with each other? Or did they just want to win?
No, at the time, it was love. Minho genuinely cared for her, and the more that he saw Subin’s family try to control her, the more he wanted to set her free. He felt like, as penniless as he was, he could take care of her better than them. So he played their game.
In time, Minho proved himself to be a tough opponent. He graduated at the top of his class, winning awards, scholarships, and the hearts of his professors. He easily entered law school and did the same. He started to make connections with the right people, made the right moves. And on top of all of that, he was undeniably handsome.
“Just accept him already,” people began to tell her parents. “It’d be a shame to let those genes go to waste. If you won’t use them, I will.”
And they couldn’t have that, so Minho was accepted into the family. In a blink of an eye, they morphed from the “evil parents” into Minho’s very own fairy godparents, landing him a job at a prominent law firm easily. He wore shirts more expensive than his entire college wardrobe. He mingled with important people, charming them with his wit (like how it used to charm Subin). He even had two most precious gifts in his entire life, his son and daughter.
But the clock had struck midnight. All of the things given to him by Subin were slowly disappearing. No new designer clothes, no more invitations to high society, no more prominent clients falling into his lap…Minho was doing all that he could to hold onto his job and his children.
Although in the back of his mind, he knew Subin would never take his custody away. The kids needed him. She needed him to look after them. But that thought was drowned out by the large attacks of pettiness the two of them had been sending each other. After all, they were used to playing games with each other.
Subin stopped paying for his car, without telling him. It had gotten repossessed right as Minho was about to go to trial.
In retaliation, Minho billed her for every bit of legal advice that he’d given her over the years.
So they called it even. Minho got the car back and paid for it on his own. And Subin stopped asking him for his professional opinion.
The line between love and hate was so thin. Minho hated how many times he’d crossed that line throughout this whole process.
Because in spite of everything, he still loved Subin. But he still didn’t want to lose to her either.
“How long have you been separated for now? A year?”
Minho scoffed. Separated, yes that was the correct term, but he was still living under the same roof as her. It was for the kids, of course, which is good. But it would also be good if they could actually be separated.
“Almost three years,” Minho answered. He was taking a smoke break with his colleague on a balcony of their building.
“Three years?!” Seungmin choked on the smoke. He shook his head. “It can’t be that long.”
“It all started when Suhee was 2,” Minho said, watching his cigarette burn down. He’d need another. “She’s 5 now.”
“Kids grow up so fast,” Seungmin mused. “My little baby is already 2.”
“Your snail doesn’t count,” Minho retorted with a chuckle. For a gag gift, Seungmin was seriously raising it, but that was who he was. “When are you finally going to settle down and have a kid that can walk on two feet?”
Seungmin glared. “When are you going to finalize your divorce?” he snapped back. “I don’t think I want relationship advice from a guy who is clinging onto his ex.”
“I’m not,” Minho muttered, lighting another cigarette.
“Then why is the divorce taking so long?”
“We have a lot of assets. You know that,” Minho quickly replied. “Just because I came into the relationship poorer than snot doesn’t mean I need to leave it that way. I’ve made a good deal of money and investments on my own.”
“Okay,” Seungmin gave way to that point but wasn’t backing down. He stood up from the bench and walked towards the other, who was leaning on the railing. “So why do you turn down every time someone tries to set you up?”
“Because I’m not divorced…yet,” Minho answered, eyes focused on watching the cigarette burn down.
“That doesn’t stop Subin.”
Minho faced him, took a long drag, and blew the smoke right at the other. But the wind wasn’t on his side and carried it away. Seungmin was still unbothered.
“Let me set you up,” Seungmin offered. “I have a long list of single noonas, who’d love to meet you.”
Minho turned towards the Seoul skyline again, sighing. “I’m sure you do,” he grumbled. Seungmin was one of those extroverted types. He liked going out and meeting new people. So he joined every group and had every hobby under the sun. None of them ever lasted for long (which was probably also why his relationships didn’t either).
“Oh, that’s not a ‘no,’” Seungmin picked up. “What’s your type? I know all kinds! Introverts, extroverts, ENFPs, ISTJs, LMNOPs, cuties, sexies, smart, dumb, innocent types, the not-so-innocent ones, eh…eh?” he nudged the other. “What do you like?”
Minho spun around. “We should get back to work.” He headed towards the door.
“I know some guys too, who’d be interested.”
That stopped Minho. “Huh?”
Seungmin snuffed out his cigarette and flung his arm around the other’s shoulder. “It’s the modern age, old man. You can date all types now. All.”
Minho’s eyes flickered curiously at the other. “Speaking from experience?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the other topped off that cheeky comment with an even cheekier grin. “I have my right to remain silent.”
“And yet you rarely do,” Minho heaved a sigh and worked his way back to the conference room, where they’ve left their heaps and piles of documents.
“Honestly, it’s not such a bad idea,” Seungmin still thought aloud as he followed the other. “You’re more of a guys’ guy anyway. In law school, you’d always rather hang out with me and the guys than go out with Subin.”
“We were studying not hanging out,” Minho reminded the other, as he reminded himself of the several spats that he used to have with Subin about that.
“Ah is that so?” Seungmin muttered, now distracted by the documents on the table, trying to find where they had left off.
That was the end of that. The conversation was ended and long forgotten as they dove deeply back into the case.
Or at least that’s what Minho thought, but a few days later, a message rang from his phone.
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: Come to ** Hotel at *pm on Thursday.
Lee Minho: Another meeting? I thought we met with everyone already.
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: No. It’s a date. Your date.
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: Ask for forgiveness, not permission. My life’s motto.
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: Your date will be wearing green and holding flowers.
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: A florist. A romantic. Very sweet. Very demure. You’ll love it.
Lee Minho: I’m not going. Cancel it.
Lee Minho: Your motto sucks. It doesn’t hold up in court.
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: I’m not going to cancel it. You need to get back out there! It’s been 3 years since you got separated. 3 years! Subin’s already moved on. Why don’t you?
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: Statistically, men get remarried more than women and much more quickly too. Aren’t you a man, hm?
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: You’re too handsome to be alone forever. And you look great AMAZING for your age.
Lee Minho: You’re only two years younger than me.
Lee Minho: Have you canceled it yet?
Lee Minho: If you give me her number, I’ll do it myself.
Lee Minho: Because I’m a real man.
Kim Seungmin, Esquire: I am not going to cancel it. Whether or not your date gets stood up is up to you.
Minho shut off his phone with a groan. Why was he always made out to be the bad guy?
Jisung sat in the dining room of the hotel. It wasn’t where they usually had their dates. It wasn’t even a place that they’ve been to before. That was the whole point. Something and someplace new for the old couple to celebrate this special day, Hwashin’s birthday. Jisung had put a lot of thought and energy into planning it. And Hwashin…
My Hubby <3: I’m going to be a bit late. Work emergency.
“Take your time,” Jisung muttered under his breath as he typed it in. “Don’t rush. Be safe.”
My Hubby <3: I’ll be done soon.
My Hubby <3: I love you so much.
Jisung read those messages and put down his phone, next to the bouquet that he painstakingly selected earlier. They had looked so fresh in the shop. Why were they already wilting?
The phone buzzed again.
My Hubby <3: ????
Jisung sighed and typed into the phone. “I love you more.”
My Hubby <3: I love you most.
Jisung frowned. For a man who was running late, he was texting too much. “Just get here,” he grumbled and closed his eyes. “I love him. I really do.”
He then got the waitress’ attention. “Can I have a glass of wine?”
Minho was just short of begging Seungmin on his hands and knees to cancel the date. The man didn’t budge.
“It’ll be good for you, trust me,” Seungmin kept replying. “Remember that one time we did the boxing class?”
“Yeah, you nearly knocked me out.”
“I overheard you telling the secretary that you keep up with it and that you took your son with you last time,” Seungmin retorted with a winning grin. “You always end up having more fun than you think. Just trust me.” He slapped the other on his back. “You need to get out of his rut.”
Rut? Was that what this was? Funny, Minho thought that he was going through a divorce, not a rut. But both brings one to an all-time low. And Minho’s mood was really, really low these days.
An hour before the set meeting time, Minho pulled himself up from his office chair. “Fine,” he grumbled as he gathered his things. “I’ll go on this stupid date. Fucking stupid.” He stopped to look at his reflection in his office window. It was rough. “I need a shower.”
That brought his mood up a bit, putting time and effort to make himself look nice. He hadn’t done this (on a non-trial day) in so long. Minho stared at his reflection now. Maybe Seungmin was right. He was too handsome to be alone, around people constantly but so so alone. But not tonight.
It even felt good to tell Subin that he was “going out” before going out the door. He smirked. Finally, he got to be the one to do it. It felt really good.
That good feeling carried his steps into the hotel. He carefully scanned the dining room, looking for anyone dressed in green. Dressed in green with a bouquet, that’s what Seungmin had said. “Where are you?” he whispered, still searching.
Ah, how did he miss the giant bouquet at the table along the window? The table with the best view, obstructed by the fucking giant bouquet? Minho’s eyes darted to the person next to the flowers, dressed in a pale green shirt.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
“Hello.”
“What was the…” Jisung stopped. Wait, that voice wasn’t…
The man in front of him definitely wasn’t Hwashin. It wasn’t anyone that he’d seen before. So why did the stranger look so irritated with him? The man flipped his sports coat to put his hands on his hips. He threw his head back letting out a loud “Ha!” He dropped his hands and pulled out the chair. “Oh, Seungmin thinks that he’s so funny. That punk. I can’t believe…” he sat down, body facing the window, but his eyes glanced over at Jisung. The stranger sighed, shaking his head before looking out the window again. “He joked about how I should try dating men because I’m a guys’ guy or whatever. I didn’t think the punk actually would set me up like this.”
“Like what?” Jisung was bored of waiting and already finish his glass of wine with no food. As an infamous lightweight, his thinking was hazy and his eyes tired. Sleep sounded good right now, but no, he still had to wait. So to keep awake he might as well entertain himself by entertaining this (hopefully) drunken stranger.
“With you,” the stranger replied. He glanced over again. “You…like guys, right?”
“Are you asking if I’m gay?” Jisung delighted in watching the panic sweep over the other’s face. “Yeah, I am.” Eleven years with another man made him comfortable to admit it, even with a complete stranger. Jisung rest his chin in his hands, eyes narrowing on the other. “Are you?”
The stranger froze before answering, “I’m divorced.” He winced and corrected, “I mean, I’m getting divorced, so I haven’t even been thinking relationships. Not. At. All.”
“Is that so?” Jisung lifted his head and leaned back into his chair. Yep, the stranger was drunk, very drunk. So Jisung might as well join him and test his own limits. “Can I have another?” he gestured to the waitress.
“I’d like a glass too,” the stranger added. He then turned to Jisung again. “So you like flowers?”
Jisung shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
The stranger frowned. “Aren’t you a florist?”
“I was,” Jisung answered. He had played a florist before. It was a small musical production that his old troupe put on. Hwashin came to every performance of it even though Jisung only had three lines. He had always been supportive, and watchful. Hwashin nearly punched another actor in the troupe for flirting with Jisung, and they were asked to leave. At least, Hwashin never tried to do anything like that again, to Jisung’s knowledge.
“Was?” the stranger repeated. “You aren’t anymore?”
“Well, everything ends at one point or another,” Jisung muttered. Every show closes, every flower wilts and dies, every relationship…“Yet life goes on.”
The stranger let out another heavy sigh, causing his head to bow down too. “So true.”
Jisung leaned forward again. “So you’re getting divorced.”
“What?” the other snapped back up. “What about it? It’s not like it’s a bad thing. People do it every day. Maybe not everyone, but a good deal. And I’m one of them.” The other’s fingers were nervously caressing the glass. Cautiously, he looked back up. “Is it a deal breaker or something?”
Jisung shook his head. “No, I’m just curious.”
The other froze. “Curious how?”
“Well, I’ve never been divorced, so I find it all curious,” Jisung probably said that too cheerfully. He probably looked too happy saying that. But the wine was making him feel lighter, merrier than he actually was, especially when these were the questions to follow, “Were there any signs of the relationship…running it’s course? That the love…ran out? What was the definitive thing for you to say ‘ah, it’s over and I can’t do this anymore’? What was the breaking point? I’m curious about that.”
“She didn’t cheat…I didn’t cheat,” the stranger defended himself as an after thought.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well,” the stranger squirmed. “People often assume that someone had. But that’s not the only reason why people divorce. There’s plenty of reason to, very plenty.”
“I know,” Jisung replied. “Trust me.”
The stranger’s mouth…did it smile or twitch. It was hard to tell, but he was definitely relaxing. “Interesting.” He then leaned over the table. “Do you really want to hear me talk about my failure of a love life all night?”
Jisung nodded. “I have a lot of time. A lot. Maybe even all night.”
“You asked for it,” the other reminded him before diving right into it, “I think things really started to go wrong when we were dating. There were signs, I’m sure of it. I just ignored them. Don’t do that, okay? It’s evidence. You don’t ignore evidence.”
“Got it.”
“See, if I had really been paying attention, I would’ve seen it, what she really thought of me. In the back of her mind, even way back then, she thought she was better than me. She had to have thought that. I mean, I didn’t have more than a penny to my name, but her family…you see that building over there? They own it. And they own that one, and that one, and…I think they finally sold that one.”
“Woah! Really? Tell me more!”
The conversation had veered in many directions. They both drank more than they should. The stranger ordered food. Jisung didn’t; he was still waiting. Maybe that was why Jisung found himself saying things that he’d kept hidden away. While the stranger ranted about his divorce, Jisung would pepper in “Ah, I know what that’s like…oh, that’s happened to me too! One time, when I…I hate it when they say that…”
He also began asking questions that were probably too personal. But the other answered them honestly anyway. “What about the kids? Do they know about this? Ah, the cats! Who will get the cats?”
“I will,” the other was fired up. “I will take it all.”
“Doubt it,” Jisung was getting too comfortable with the other. “Her family own Seoul.”
The stranger pointed his fork at the other. “Watch me! You’ll see me in the news. I’m taking it all!” His mouth twitched again. “They can’t look down on me anymore.”
“I’ll check the news, every day.”
“You better!” He chewed for a moment then leaned over the table. “Should I be looking for you in the news? Your ex seems to have a scary streak.”
Jisung shook his head. Ex? Scary? No, no. What gave the stranger that impression? He could feel his smile drop, almost with an audible thud. His eyes fixed on the empty glass before him. He drank too much.
“No, I’m fine.” Jisung changed the topic, steering away from relationships, which was easy to do. For a random guy who plopped himself at the table, Jisung had a lot in common with him. They had similar interests in movies, hobbies…life.
“Ah, this is comfortable,” slipped from his mouth.
“I know. You’re practically asleep on the table. You should really eat something.”
Jisung shook his head. “I’m waiting.”
“For who?”
“For…”
“Jisungie? Who is this?”
Jisung didn’t have to look up. He could hear the flames stoking already. Hwa…hwa…hwa…
“Hwanshin-ah!” Jisung whined as he slowly looked up at the man standing right behind him, hands pressing down onto his shoulders. “What took you so long?”
“Oh, honey, why are you crying?” Gentle thumbs brushed against his cheeks.
Was it the drink? The pain? The weariness? “I don’t know,” Jisung mumbled. He wasn’t really crying. It was only a few tears. He pulled away from the other. “It’s fine.”
“Is it?” the stranger pressed. He stood up straight. “I’m Lee Minho. And you are?”
Jisung interjected, holding onto the hand on his shoulder. “This is my boyfriend, Park Hwashin. You’re sitting in his seat.”
“Eh?” Minho immediately got up but was still in shock. “His seat? But…isn’t it mine? Didn’t Seungmin set this up?”
“I don’t know a Seungmin,” Jisung finally confessed. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know?” Minho repeated bringing out his phone. “I’m sure you know. You have to know. He knows everyone. He set this up. He…oh shit! Oh fuck!” He looked at Jisung, wide eyed. “She cancelled! She got sick, and she cancelled. I couldn’t cancel it, but she could. Fuck, I couldn’t hear my phone because we’d been talking, and…argh!” He slapped his face and hid behind his hands. “I’m embarrassed. I’m so fucking embarrassed. I just sat with a complete stranger, acting like…” He peeked between his fingers. “You’re on a date, aren’t you?”
“It’s my birthday,” Hwashin revealed as he sat down.
Jisung pointed over to him. “It’s his birthday.”
“Well, happy birthday,” Minho grumbled.
Hwashin smiled. “Thank you.”
“Well, have a nice evening…and a nice life. Please forget about everything,” Minho begged as he scurried away.
The couple watch the man narrowly dodge a waiter as he left the dining room. “So,” Hwashin began. “Who was that?”
Jisung shrugged. “No idea. He just sat down at the table with me.”
“Probably drunk.”
“Definitely drunk.” Jisung cocked his head. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Hwashin asked as he flipped through the menu. “Why would I be mad? You’re the one who should be because I made you wait.”
“Well,” Jisung relaxed. “I was entertained. So it wasn’t too bad.”
His boyfriend smiled. “You can seriously make friends with anyone. Even with a random drunk. It’s amazing.”
Jisung smiled and picked up the menu too. “What are you going to order? I want steak.”
“Of course, you do. That’s what you always get at a place like this.”
“Ah, I do,” Jisung admitted, still smiling. This must be what a mature relationship feels like. There’s ups and down, but at the end of the day, they’re holding hands at the table, putting faith and trust into one another.
“I bet that guy was having troubles with his wife.”
Jisung froze. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, he was wearing a ring and was drunk on a Thursday night at a hotel, complaining to some stranger,” Hwashin guessed. “His wife probably cheated on him. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Jisung tapped his fingers against the menu before replying. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Why spoil a special night with the truth?