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Jihoon hates parties, and it’s not just because of how many people there seem to always be. It’s the… fanciness of it all, the sheer extravagance that makes him want to cringe.
“Jihoonie! Why do you look so down? It’s a party, have some fun!” host (and major playboy) Kwon Soonyoung suddenly appears, slinging an arm over Jihoon, grinning widely.
Jihoon flinches from his best friend, who honestly smells like he’s been dunked into six at least different kinds of alcohol. “Get off you drunkard. I didn’t even want to come,” he huffs. “Unlike you, mister my-inheritance-will-be-enough, I have work to do,” he shoves the elder away, grumpily downing his soju with a grimace.
Soonyoung just laughs it off, turning to attend to his other patrons who are all vying for his attention. Jihoon just shakes his head at the sight, and seats himself at the bar, ordering a coke, and pulling out his pocketbook to write a couple lyrics down. He’s got it all in his head anyway, might as well get it out while he still can. He reaches out for his glass of coke, but misses, and watches in horror as the drink tips over.
Right onto someone’s crotch.
He’s frozen, half in horror at the thought of possibly having ruined someone’s (very) expensive suit, but also mortified at how absolutely clichéd this moment is. He snaps back to his embarrassing reality when the glass shatters onto the ground.
He grabs a handful of tissues, and frantically pats up all the excess still pooling on the stranger’s frozen form, before he’s trying to rub out the stain he knows will be there.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he rambles, all remnants of cool flying out the window as he continues trying to clean up his mess. “Shit, I wasn’t looking, I’m sorry, i’m so clumsy,” he panics, and a strained chuckle makes him freeze. Again.
“If you keep that up there’ll be another mess that’s your fault too,” the voice, deep, amused and the
slightest
bit husky, rings clear in his ears, and Jihoon rears back like he’s been burned, and he’s falling over himself to apologize to the stranger.
“I’m sorry oh my god I’m so sorry, fuck I don’t know what’s wrong with- I’m sorry, please this is my number please send me the bill for dry cleaning,” jihoon scribbles his number messily onto a page on this pocketbook and rips it out, slapping it on the table in front of the stranger before he grabs his phone and flees, ears flaming red and soul (more like his pride), in shreds.
It’s not until much later that Jihoon realizes his mistake, when his phone beeps with a message.
From: [unknown]
You have the wrong phone - S.C
Jihoon blinks at the message, but before he can respond, or even comprehend what’s going on, another couple of messages come in.
From: [unknown]
I have your phone with me, this is your number - S.C
From: [unknown]
You really should set a passcode… Jihoon - S.C
From: [unknown]
My passcode is 26877 - S.C
Cautiously, Jihoon unlocks the phone, and stares at the background of the phone with a mix of horror and amazement, because one, the owner of this phone is fucking hot. But also, this is stranger he practically gave a handjob to.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jihoon swears, flopping facedown onto the couch, and nearly falls off when the phone rings. “Seriously? The Boys?” he snarks, before he picks up the phone.
“H-hello?” he stammers. “Um- I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” he blurts, and he melts a little at how deep and smooth the stranger’s laugh is. His deep voice rumbles pleasantly through the phone, and Jihoon feels a shudder run down his spine (although Jihoon will never admit it).
“Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol,” Seungcheol answers, the amusement clear in his tone. “So. You have my phone, and I have yours.”
Jihoon groans, head thunking onto the armrest. He doesn’t want to face this handsome stranger, ever, but he needs his phone back. He apologizes again, and Seungcheol laughs, telling Jihoon that it was perfectly fine.
“So… I kinda need my phone back,” Jihoon mumbles, and he wants to smack himself because why can’t he just get a grip already .
“And I need mine too,” Seungcheol agrees easily. “So how about a date?”
Jihoon is so shocked he actually falls off the sofa this time. “D-date? But we barely know each other, and I spilled coke onto your dick- I mean crotch- and then I stole your phone and I-” Jihoon flails, trailing off, not knowing how to fix this situation.
It’s a frustratingly strange situation, because Jihoon never, never loses his cool, but a word from Seungcheol, a single laugh, all deep and so sexy, and Jihoon is an utter mess. He hates it, but he hates how the butterflies in his tummy won’t go away even more. Seungcheol’s laughter is rich and deep, and Jihoon just imagines the blond throwing his head back in a full body laugh, broad shoulders shaking, sparkling eyes scrunched up with amusement, plump (and oh-so kissable) lips stretched in a beautiful smile- Jihoon was not stalking this man. He just happened to ‘chance upon’ a couple photos (he totally scrolled through Seungcheol’s entire gallery).
“How about tomorrow?” Seungcheol manages to ask, despite his laughing, and Jihoon manages a strangled “okay.” Seungcheol sets the time and place, and Jihoon just nods dumbly, making strangled noises of approval when he realizes Seungcheol can’t see him nodding. “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow Jihoonie,” Seungcheol quips, and the line goes dead.
Jihoon slumps into the sofa, rubbing his face with frustration. “He’s one person, Lee Jihoon get a fucking grip,” he snaps at himself. “It’s not like you have a crush on him or anything you just need to apologize. And it’s not a date” he huffs to himself almost angrily, stomping to his bedroom to continue grumbling about this entire mess, falling asleep with the words “it’s not a date,” hanging off his lips.
He’s scared awake by the loud blare of the phone. Jihoon reaches behind him blindly and answers with a muffled “hello?”
“Oh good, you’re awake. Don’t forget, we’re meeting at noon at Starbucks in Itaewon 100.” Jihoon glances at the clock, groaning in response, and hangs up on Seungcheol, before snuggling back into bed.
“Five more minutes,” he murmurs to himself, dozing off again.
He almost doesn’t wake up in time. The alarm he set is so unfamiliar, the ringtone so different, that it almost doesn’t register.
Almost.
Jihoon grumbles for the second time in (what he thinks) is five minutes, but curses loudly and sprints for the shower when he checks the clock. Sure enough, the bright red lights read an unmistakable “11:45AM”.
He showers in record time, and pulls on his ripped jeans and a black and yellow pullover that’s about seven sizes too big, but he doesn’t have time because he’s late. He curses the stupid alarm for not being the one he recognizes, curses himself for falling back asleep, even after Seungcheol called him. He curses many, many things (including the stupid phone switch in the first place) in his mad dash to get ready, but the one thing he’s incredibly thankful for, is the fact that he lives near Itaewon 100.
He spots Seungcheol and attempts to calm his racing heart (partly because he ran there, and also because… reasons). Jihoon glances at his watch and curses bc he’s five minutes late, even though he’s already in Starbucks.
“H-hi, Seungcheol-ssi? I’m so sorry I’m late,” he bows to the taller, and Seungcheol waves him away.
“It’s fine, you can make it up to me by buying me coffee,” he grins brightly, and Jihoon’s heart (much to his reluctance) skips a beat. “I’ll have a caramel frappe, with extra chocolate sauce.
He grimaces at the ridiculously sweet order – seriously who the fuck orders caramel AND chocolate?? – but nods anyway and queues up, shooting the barista, a pretty American born Korean, a small smile as he orders his usual – a double shot espresso, and Seungcheol’s drink.
“Haven’t seen you around lately,” the barista, Jisoo, raises an eyebrow, smiling gently at the younger. “How’s work?” They make small talk, but Jisoo gets distracted when his pretty boy crush Jeonghan walks in, and another barista has to finish Jihoon’s drink while Jisoo moons over the long haired boy. Jihoon contemplates interferring, but decides against it, mainly because he doesn’t want Jisoo hyung to poison his coffee.
“So… my phone?” Jihoon sets Seungcheol’s drink down and holds his hand out for it, and Seungcheol grins cheekily.
“Not just yet Jihoon. Sit down, have a drink of coffee with me, just relax,” he coaxes, and Jihoon groans internally, flopping onto the sofa.
“I’m sitting, I’m drinking coffee, can I please have my phone back,” Jihoon huffs, almost, almost, sounding whiny.
Suengcheol just chuckles, shaking his head at the grumpy younger. “Tell me about yourself. I already know your birthday, so you’re younger than me, but tell me about you, then I’ll consider giving you back your phone,” and he winks at Jihoon, and Jihoon just flails.
“I make music,” is Jihoon’s short reply, and Seungcheol snorts, motioning for Jihoon to continue. “Uh I- wait did you say consider ???” Jihoon stops, narrowing his eyes at his (damn his birthday for being in November) hyung .
“Well,” he drawls, smirking knowingly at the younger. “You’re cute, and small, and feisty. I like you,” he coos, and Jihoon’s ears turn even redder. “I’ll give you back your phone,” he shrugs casually, and Jihoon almost thanks him, but of course, the elder had to open his mouth to add on (with a glint in his eye no less) “If you kiss me.”
Jihoon balks, staring at the pretty man, stunned. Is he kidding? Kiss him? How’s he so sure I even swing that way (even though he totally does). He wrinkles his nose, huffing out a stern “No.”
Suengcheol shrugs easily, taking a sip of his coffee, and Jihoon shifts, because he wants, no… needs, his phone back. He has… stuff in it that he really doesn’t want anyone to see. “You have such milky white skin Jihoonie,” Seungcheol singsongs, and Jihoon pales even further.
“You’re a fucking snoop,” he spits, but it’s got zero heat, and really only ends up showing Seungcheol how nervous the small blonde is. “Give it back!” he snaps, firmer this time, but Seungcheol refuses to budge, and just smiles serenely.
“All your friends, seeing just how pretty you are,” he coos. “See how underneath all that violence and grumpiness is a sweet, soft, little boy from busan who sings and dreams of making it big,” he says almost poetically, and Jihoon very closely resembles a tomato.
“F-fuck off,” he stammers, trying to hide his face in his hands while Seungcheol chuckles.
“C’mon jihoonie, just one kiss,” he coaxes, even getting up and sliding into the seat next to Jihoon, and Jihoon lets a whimper slip, much to his chagrin. “You know you want to,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, but making no move until he has Jihoon’s consent.
“J-just one?” Jihoon breathes, still hiding behind his hands, and Seungcheol hums his agreement.
“Just one, and I promise I’ll give your phone back,” Seungcheol coaxes, and Jihoon lowers his hands, looking into the elder’s shining brown eyes, head tilting up in silent agreement.
Jihoon hates being clichéd, but he can’t help but see fireworks behind his eyelids when Seungcheol’s plump lips are so soft, gently pressing against his own, earning a response from him. Seungcheol pulls away, and Jihoon unconsciously chases his lips, even going so far as to let a soft whine slip.
He’s boneless from that one kiss, and he wants more. Seungcheol grins, pecking Jihoon again quickly, and he places Jihoon’s phone into the younger’s palm gently.
“My number’s saved as Cheollie,” he murmurs, stealing one final kiss from Jihoon’s pliant lips, and stands up. “I’ll see you real soon Jihoonie,” he grins, smoothly leaving, and Jihoon just melts into the chair, brain completely short circuited.
The only thing that brings him back to reality is the familiar ‘katalk’ ringtone.
From: [Cheollie]
Tomorrow, 7:30pm.
I’ll pick you up. - S.C
Jihoon scowls at the message, and almost considers sending a big fat fuck you, but his fingers (and his heart) work against with him, and the next thing he knows is he’s agreeing.
From: [Cheollie]
Good, I’m excited too~
Can’t wait for the first of our many dates (;
(Jihoon will deny this to the ends of the earth, but he can’t wait either.)