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“I just don’t understand why they all of a sudden start running?”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, “It’s a sport, they’re supposed to move.”
Jisung frowns, “and you're supposed to help me.”
Seungmin sighs, “It’s simple. To score a run, the player needs to cover all the bases and return to home plate.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” Jisung nods, “Now. Why are they dressed in white?”
“That’s it. I’m not helping you anymore,” Seungmin deadpans while getting in line to get his usual order at the campus’s cafeteria.
“I’m serious! Come on, it’s objectively impractical! and also why are their pants so tight-”
“Jisung, beg Chan to assign you another article, and please stop this nonsense.”
“You think I haven’t begged him already?” Jisung whines.
It was not his choice to cover the article for their baseball team's game. His only fault was having a good immune system and being too much of a homebody to hang out enough around the campus to catch the seasonal flu.
Just the day before, he had unsuccessfully tried to get Chan to change his idea about the article assignment.
“I can’t. Everyone is sick, and we need to cover the main news, so you’ll have to write the sports section this time,” Chan had responded, giving Jisung a pat on the shoulder while condemning him to accompany an annoyed Seungmin to get his daily double espresso in the hope of learning from him a thing or two about baseball.
Jisung sighs, “Believe me, I would rather write about the dude that clogged the toilet and made the whole second floor evacuate because of the smell.”
“You’re really aiming for that Pulitzer prize, uh?”
“If it were volleyball, maybe I would understand something more,” Jisung mumbles.
Seungmin snorts, “You understand what’s going on in a volleyball match only because you watched Haikyuu.”
“True,” Jisung shrugged unashamed, “I still haven’t watched an anime about baseball for me to understand what a homerun is.”
“Maybe try watching an actual game,” Seungmin scolds him.
“I did! I tried, but it was all so confusing, and the white pants thing kinda bothers me- and again, why are the uniforms soooo tight?” he whines dramatically.
“You know, maybe if you weren’t too busy looking at the players’ butts and put your mind into it, you would be able to write a decent article.”
“Oh, don’t worry, the situation is not that bad. For the article, I’ll improvise something like always, and for the other thing, I’ll make sure to watch every player’s asses next Friday at the game,” Jisung answers. He hears someone behind them in the line chuckle. Jisung is only able to see the man sideways before Seungmin, after picking up his coffee, grabs his arm to move him to the left.
“There, look. That’s like half our baseball team over there at the table near the window,” Seungmin turns Jisung toward the front of the cafeteria, “at least make sure to memorize their name.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jisung says. He ineptly takes a notebook from his bag before turning towards his friend, battling his eyelashes in a desperate effort to win his help, “Can you tell me who’s who?”
Seungmin looks down at Jisung's notebook, where a list of the players' names is written with a few scrabbled notes, “I’m late to class. Guess you’ll have to do your own research if you want to write a good enough article about the ups and downs of university baseball,” he says as he walks away.
“Wait,” Jisung whines, but Seungmin is already too far away. “Now who the fuck is Seo Changbin?” he mumbles to himself, looking at the table where the baseball team is animatedly talking.
“The one on the right with the blue cap,” someone says behind him. Jisung turns to see who he recognizes as the man who was behind him before, now holding his fresh coffee order.
He takes a peek at Jisung's notebook and says, “Hwang Hyunjin is the one Changbin is bothering, and the one next to them is Felix,” then he looks back at Jisungs’ note, “and the captain is here next to you. Lee Minho, nice to meet you,” he says smugly, a veil of sarcasm apparent in his soft voice.
Jisung slightly turns his head to look at him, too stunned and embarrassed to say anything. He sees Minho looking at him, their faces so close. Too close. Minho steps back, “See you this Friday at the game, “ he says, “and write something about my ass in my too-tight baseball uniform in your article, I’ll make sure to read it,” he winks at Jisung before turning around and walking towards his team, with his dyed blond hair bouncing at every step.
—
On Friday, Jisung walks to the university court twenty minutes before the match. He has to meet with a certain Jeongin, who will cover for Ryujin to take the photo for the article. Chan had just given him the guy’s number, told Jisung that Jongin is a freshman, and that he has the cutest dimples.
“Are you Han Jisung?” A man a bit taller than him approaches him, looking a bit shy.
“Yes,” he nods, “and you’re Jeongin, right?”
“That’s me,” he smiles, showing his dimples, and Jisung finds himself agreeing with Chan.
“Should we go take a seat before it gets too crowded?”
“Good idea,” Jeongin responds as they start walking towards the bleachers. As they take a seat and wait for the game to begin, they chat a bit. Jisung finds out that Jeongin is indeed in his first year and that he’s majoring in education. Also, luckily for Jisung, Jeongin seems to know the basic rules of baseball.
“Thank god,” Jisung sighs, “so do you come to watch it often?”
“Umh, not really. I mean, it’s not that I like it that much, I just-” Jeongin mumbles, becoming redder in the face after every word he pronounces. “To be honest, the only reason I know the rules and the players is because of this guy who's really into baseball, and I- Well-”
“Oooh, you did your search to flirt with him,” Jisung finishes with a sardonic smile.
“No! not to flirt! just,” he shrugs, “to talk.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not judging. My friend follows a course that’s not part of his major just to talk to this guy he likes,” Jisung says, “ One day he got in the wrong classroom, but then he saw him, and now he follows the pedagogy class just for him.”
Just as Jisung finishes talking, the baseball team enters the stadium. Even though the bleachers are not too crowded, a few passionate screams follow their entrance, and in that moment, Jisung notices Minho. The blonde turns around and looks at the seat, almost like searching for something. He seems to find it as he looks at Jisung and winks.
“You know Minho?” Jeongin asks, confused by the player's action.
“No. I mean, kinda. We talked once.”
“I heard from a girl I know that he’s a bit weird,” Jeongin says, catching Jisung's attention.
“What do you mean?”
“She said once he sat next to him in the library, but she kept hearing screams and strange noises coming from his headphones,” Jeongin explains, “When she asked him about it, he responded that he likes listening to horror story podcasts while studying. Help him concentrate he said.”
“That’s weird,” Jisung responds. Yeah, sure, he heard the most absurd studying method, and he himself had tried a few. From the tomato timer to the Super Mario theme song playing in the background, and all the various positive reinforcement methods from eating chocolates to a particularly effective one where he let himself watch an episode of his favourite TV show for every chapter memorised- yeah, maybe he shouldn’t judge Minho for his studying technique. The baseball captain, though, sure acts strangely towards him, Jisung thinks. With the winking and flirting after what he heard Jisung say about white pants and butts. Suddenly, a theory forms in his mind. Maybe Minho is flirting to get Jisung to write good things about the baseball team in his article.
After a few minutes, the match begins. Jeongin takes lots of good shots while lamenting the too-bright lighting around the field, which isn’t working in his favour. As much as Jisung can tell by everyone's reactions, Minho is playing an excellent game. When he gets home, Jisung spends all night working on the article. By morning, a photo of a triumphant Minho appears on the first page of the university newspaper, accompanied by a large title announcing his team's win.
—
“So there is actually something in your head besides music after all.”
Jisung stops typing on his laptop to look up at Seungmin, who is standing in front of his table. “So you read it?” he asks.
Seungmin nods, sitting down, “It’s good. Although there aren’t many technicalities, it reads well.”
“That’s good,” Jisung answers, “hopefully now I’m done with baseball, and I can write about my stuff.”
“Your stuff?” Seungmin snickers.
Jisung closes his laptop and clears his throat. He got good, excellent news, actually. “I’ve got an interview with the producer I told you about last week,” he announces.
“Really?”
“Yep,” Jisung says, popping his lips, feeling proud. A few weeks ago, he found out a local music producer he really liked had been a student at their university. Jisung had contacted him about interviewing him as an ex-student with a rising career. The guy had been so nice, giving him compliments and even telling Jisung he would check his music on Soundcloud.
“So, I guess you prefer writing about a broke music producer than our successful baseball team,” Seungmin scoffs ironically.
“I prefer writing about music-related stuff,” Jisung rolls his eyes playfully, “About serious shit, Seungminie. Like, did you know that our university has a choir? I heard that Park Jihyo runs it like the navy.”
“She’s actually not that bad, and she wouldn’t have to be that strict if people could sing on key for once.”
Jisung snorts, “What do you even know about the choir?”
“Quite a bit since I’m part of it.”
Jisung blinks a few times, “What? You? How? I mean, since when?”
“Oh, quit it! You know I sing too,” he mumbles, the redness of his cheeks not going unnoticed by Jisung.
“I know. I just thought of you more as a solitary man with his guitar kind of singer than a part of a choir one.”
“The one man with a guitar is your thing. Also, did you forget I was part of the baseball team in high school? I’m used to group activities.”
“That’s true,” Jisung nods, thinking of a young Seungmin with his baseball bat, “so uhm- does your choir do birthday parties?” he teases.
Seungmin elbows him, “shut up.”
“Do you accept song requests? Can I hire you to sing the High School Musical soundtrack for my birthday?”
—
Achoo
“Really? Me again? I understand that everyone’s sick, but-”
Achoo. Chan blows his nose, “Jisung. The last number sold five times more than we usually do.”
“And?”
“And it means that our students feel strongly about baseball!”
“Yeah, sportsmanship, sure,” Jisung deadpans, looking at Minho’s infuriatingly beautiful face on the cover of the newspaper on Chan’s desk. “Anyway, I won’t be the one making this interview.”
“Come on, you did great last time!”
“Minho’s face did great last time,” Jisung responds, raising the newspaper in front of Chan’s eyes.
“Well, you don’t have a choice. You’ll have to interview the team,” Chan says firmly, with unusual authority.
“Why me?”
“Cause they agreed only if it’s you writing it,” Chan sighs, looking tired, “Minho requested you.”
“Requested me?” Jisung screams in a high-pitched voice, “What am I? Some kind of prostitute? A courtesan? A jester? A dancing monkey? A-”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it. But, listen, maybe he likes your writing.”
Jisung burst into an incredulous laugh, “No. No, he must be some kind of sadist,” he says as he starts walking up and down the newspaper room mumbling, “He must want to humiliate me after what I said-”
“What did you say?”
“-For him, I’m like a rat trapped between his claws!”
“Jisung, can you stop-”
“Yeah! It’s some kind of humiliating, sadistic ritual,” he keeps mumbling with his hands in his hair.
“Jisung, it’s just an interview,” Chan steps in front of him, “and you're not interviewing a psychopath, just Lee Minho.”
—
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like a bug?”
Jisung looks Minho dead in his eyes, “No.”
“Yeah, you’re cute like a little mouse, like a bug,” Minho says while smirking as if he’s having the time of his life, like making people frustrated is a hobby of his -cooking, sudoku, baseball, and making Jisung feel like his face is on fire.
“Something wrong?” Minho asks, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” he responds, giving Jeongin, who's next to him, a quick, desperate look. He clears his throat, “ So we were saying, that it’s interesting to me how athletes are known to be superstitious. Do you have any particular ritual before a game?”
“Not really,” Minho says, then, as an afterthought, “Do you think I should start having one? Like winking at a certain someone-”
“-I think I’m going to take some photos there, at the team warming up,” Jeongin says, pointing towards the field.
“No. Wait,” Jisung shouts, traitor! Don’t leave me alone with him! He wants to scream as he sees Jeongin walking away, “Take some more pictures here,” he pouts.
Minho’s chuckle steals his attention; it’s airy, soft. But it also makes Jisung mad knowing Minho is having fun torturing him.
“Why did you want it to be me interviewing you?” Jisund suddenly asks, tired of humoring Minho.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Jisung’s mind goes back to that day at the cafeteria; how he made a joke out of himself by asking Seungmin the dumbest question, and Minho hearing everything, “I don’t understand. If you’re mad that I’m not qualified to write about baseball, why do you want me to write another article about you?”
Minho looks confused, “What are you even talking about?”
“That time at the cafeteria,” Jisung hesitates, now uncertain.
Minho blinks a few times, “So you think I got mad cause you said you like looking at athletes’ ass?”
Jisung gasps, embarrassed, “No, it’s because I don’t know shit about- I mean I- I objectified you?” The moment the words leave his mouth, Jisung feels the need to slap himself and lowers his head in embarrassment.
Minho burst out in a loud laugh, “Oh Jisungie, you're funny. I’m not mad about a cute guy looking at my butt.”
Jisung looks up at Minho, at the soft features of his face, the dyed but fluffy blonde hair, his front teeth visible under his upper lip now that he’s laughing. “Then what are you doing?”
Minho looks back at him and smiles. Right as he’s about to talk, one of his teammates calls his name. They both turn towards the field to see Jongin intent on making the team pose for a group photo. Only Minho is missing.
When he sees Jisung looking, Jongin shouts, “Are you done with the interview?” Jisung smiles, thinking it’s probably an attempt from Jeongin to save him from Minho.
Yes, I’m done,” Jisung shouts back. When he turns back towards Minho, he finds his gaze on him.
“Writes something sweet about me this time,” Minho says before running towards his team.
—
Jisung's face is freezing, and he also feels like punching someone in the face. Sungyoon, the producer, was supposed to meet him at the usual cafe near the campus forty minutes ago. When he finally sees Sungyoon walking towards him, Jisung doesn’t know if he feels like thanking God for not making him stand outside freezing his butt a minute longer or slapping the man in front of him. When Seungyoon greets him with “Hey, man. Did you wait long?” At this point, in his head, Jisung has done much more than just slap the guy’s face.
In reality, though, he tries to be diplomatic, “Just a few minutes,” he shrugs as he opens the cafe’s door, urging Seungyon to go inside.
“Sorry, man. I had this meeting with this important producer. We were so caught up talking about this project we’re doing together, and I completely lost track of time. You know how it is. You understand, right?”
Jisung doesn’t understand. He doesn’t have meetings with important producers, which means that when a mediocre one finally agrees to meet him, he has to act nice even if he doesn’t like it and answer, “Yeah, I totally understand.”
“Do you mind if I eat something. I haven’t eaten all day,” Seungyoon says, as they take a seat at one of the empty tables.
“Sure, go ahead.” Jisung sees him get comfy in his seat as he signals to the waiter to come over.
“I’ll get an Americano, please,” Jisung tells the waiter after he takes Sungyoon's order, then he clears his throat, “So, uhm, do we start with the interview-”
“Actually, do you mind if I eat first? Then you can ask me all the questions you want,” Seungyoon says, and before Jisung can insist, he adds, “In the meantime, we can talk about the songs on your Soundcloud.”
Jisung lights up. This is the moment. Sure, this dude is a pain in the ass, but he still is a professional, a good musician, someone who can open doors to great opportunities for Jisung.
Seungyoon, “Your songs are good, Jihoon-”
“It’s Jisung.”
“Jisung? Ah, yeah, I mean you’re good, man!” Seungyoon exclaims, “That one song, miserable, is impressive!”
Jisung looks down, shy, “Thanks.”
“I was thinking that maybe you can pass me some of your track, and I can work on it.” Before Seungyoon can finish his sentence, Jisung already knows where this is going.
He takes advantage of the waiter coming to serve them to take a breath and calm down.
Seungyoon takes a bite of his sandwich, and Jisung asks, “You mean you want to collaborate on a track?”
“Jisung, you’re still at the beginning of your career, and you may not know how things work, but I’m here to take you under my wing,” Seungyoon responds while chewing.
Jisung has to bite his lips from screaming something ugly at the so-called producer.
Seungyoon, unaware, continues talking, “I too gifted my song to my senior at the beginning. But you see it’s better like this, cause I wouldn’t even have known what to do with them,” he laughs.
When he starts to taste blood from bitten lips, Jisung decides to speak, “Unlike you, I know what to do with my songs.” As he sees Seungyoon stop chewing, he clears his throat and continues, “How about we start with the interview?”
Seungyon frowns, “I think it’s gotten too late. I’ll go home now. I’ll write you when I have a free day,” he says.
“What? But we agreed to-”
Jisung is left there frozen, staring as Seungyoon eats the last bite of his sandwich, gets up, and leaves, without paying. Jisung feels the familiar sting in his eyes. He tries to battle the tears that inevitably fall as he sits in the cafe, looking at his untouched drink.
He quickly dries his tears and goes to pay, hoping the waiter at the register can’t see his red eyes as he keeps his head down. It takes Jisung only three steps outside the cafe before he hears a familiar voice calling his name. When he turns, he sees Minho in front of him. It’s obvious from his appearance, from the clothes to his sweaty face, that he was out jogging.
“Hi,” Jisung waves, trying to act normal.
“Are you ok? You look- Your eyes-” Minho stutters before ultimately asking, “Is everything fine?”
“Yeah, just, uhm, it’s just an allergy,” he responds, only to remember after that it’s December and mentally slapping himself.
Thankfully, Minho doesn’t question him, “Were you headed back to your dorm?”
“Yep.”
“Let me walk you back,” Minho proposes, and Jisung accepts without much arguing. He doesn’t have the energy to bicker right now.
When the silence becomes too uncomfortable and his unsuccessfully muffled sniffles too loud, he asks, “How are the practices for the next game going?”
It takes a few minutes for Minho to answer; it seems to Jisung that a lot is going on in his mind. Maybe he chose the wrong way to divert attention from his own mood.
“The practices are going fine. Everyone is in great shape,” Minho ultimately responds, then after a bit, he says, “Although there’s something that’s bothering me.”
Jisung takes the bite as he questions, “What?” He’s almost ready for Minho to come out with one of his straightforward pickup lines. He’s instead taken aback when the other answers truthfully.
“Recruiters are going to be at the game. They have been coming for the last few games we played. They want me to go pro.”
Jisung is about to congratulate him, but when he turns to look at Minho, the serious tone of his voice reflects on his face.
Jisung stops on his feet, “Isn’t it a good thing?” he asks, almost timidly.
Minho walks to a low wall near them and sits. “It is a good thing,” he says.
Why do you look unhappy then? Jisung wants to ask, but the question is clear without him having to word it.
“From now on, I can play baseball without wondering all the time if I’m good enough of a player,” Minho sighs, “and I’m happy enough with this thought that I would quit baseball tomorrow.”
Jisung turns to look at Minho. The captain of the baseball team, good enough to sign a contract to play in the major league, doesn’t want to play anymore. Right at the moment where every player dreams to be, just as he is proposed to go pro. Jisung thinks back to tonight, when he thought he was about to have that life-changing career opportunity.
The irony of Minho experiencing what Jisung has been chasing for years, only to find out he doesn’t really want it. There’s undoubtedly a part of Jisung who's jealous, but what he’s really feeling towards Minho right now is compassion. “If you were to quit tomorrow, what would you do instead of going to practice?” he asks.
Minho blinks a few times, “There’s this place near campus where I teach kids to dance. I took it initially as a summer job since I also live near there, but I ended up helping the owners for the rest of the year, too.”
“You’re a dancer?” Jisung sputters incredulously. You’re a dancer, too! he wants to say.
Minho turns towards him, smiling, “I was a dancer before I became a baseball player.”
“When do you even find the time to do all that?” Jisung mumbles.
“I don’t have the time, in fact,” Minho chuckles, “that’s also why I want to quit baseball. I wouldn’t have time for dancing at all if I went pro,” he says as he gets up.
“So, it’s dancing? I mean, between baseball and dancing,” Jisung asks as they begin walking again.
Minho shrugs, “It’s both. I just don’t want to give up on one because of the other.”
Jisung suddenly feels admiration for him. He pictures a future where Minho is a dance teacher for a living, sharing with others what he loves so much, while in his free time, he plays baseball with his old teammates, and Jisung is there to see their game and cheer for- wait, why would he be there?
“You know, sometimes I dance to your music,” Minho says, making Jisung halt his steps.
“What? I mean, how do you know I make music?” he asks frantically.
“I’m not a stalker, Jisung,” Minho grins, “after you wrote the first article about our game, I searched your social media, and your Soundcloud is linked in your bio.”
“Yeah, right. I forgot,” Jisung mumbles, even though the response doesn’t stop his heartbeat from racing at the thought of Minho dancing to his songs.
“Is your dorm this way?” Minho asks.
Jisung looks up, “Yes, it’s that one actually.”
“Mine is that way,” Minho points towards the other direction.
Jisung clears his throat, “So, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“See you around, Jisungie,” Minho responds.
—
“I don’t understand, with a face like that, how can his profile be just full of cats?”
“Agree. You think it’s true he’s gay?”
“I hope so!”
“Why? You think you have a chance?”
Jisung shifts his gaze from his laptop to look up at the boys chatting at the table next to his. With annoyance, he sees they are looking at Minho’s Instagram, which Jisung definitely doesn’t recognize because he has been stalking it too.
It has been a week since he and Minho talked, and Jisung hasn’t stopped thinking about their conversation once. All the signals lead his brain to think that Minho is interested in him. Before Jisung can shut his brain off, putting his headphones on, Chan appears in front of him.
“I’ve been searching for you the entire morning,” he says, sitting.
Jisung put his headphones down, “I’ve been here for the last two hours studying.”
“Why don’t you answer your phone?”
“I’m ghosting you. I’m too scared that if I answer my phone, you’ll make me write about how many blades of grass are in the university baseball field.”
“Are you still mad at me? Jisung, don’t you like men? Shouldn’t you be glad I sent you to interview all those sweaty athletes stretching and practicing in the dirt-”
“Jesus, you make it sound like the start of a cheap 70s porn,” Jisung groans.
“Well, don’t worry. This time, no sports are involved,” Chan responds, “I need you to come with me to have an interview on the campus radio.”
“The radio?”
“Yeah, I finally managed to get us five minutes tomorrow during the lunch program to promote the newspaper.”
Although he’s already mourning the loss of his launch break, Chan’s enthusiasm after the hard times they’ve been through the last few weeks, with everyone being sick, makes Jisung happy too for the opportunity. “That’s great,” he says.
“Hey, is that Jeongin?” Chan asks, looking towards the entrance.
Jisung turns towards where Chan’s looking, but what he notices is not just Jeongin, “Is that Seungmin with him?” he asks, puzzled as Chan waves at them. The moment Seungmin makes eye contact with him, Jisung sees him go white in the face.
“Hi,” Jeongin greets them with his usual dimples. “Hey,” Seungmin echoes in a much drier tone.
“You two know each other?” Jisung asks.
As Jeongin starts mumbling something about sharing a morning lesson, Jisung senses Seungmin's eyes on him; he’s trying to communicate something to him telepathically. Probably to shut up and stop asking questions. Jisung ignores him. The idea of having power over Kim Seungmin is too enticing, “So how come you two share a class-”
To Jisung's surprise, it’s Jeongin who -all red in the face- interrupts his questioning. “I’m thinking of joining you guys at the newspaper!” he exclaims.
When Jeongin gets completely submerged by Chan's questions regarding his decision, Jisung takes it as his clue to leave. He gets up from his seat and declares his departure. As much as he would like to save poor Jeongin from Chan's overwhelming enthusiasm, he has to attend his afternoon class.
After just two steps, he hears Seungmin calling his name, “Wait, I’m coming too.”
“Going to the library?” Jisung slows his steps for his friend to catch up.
“Yes, I need to review some notes I took this morning,” he answers, then, after a pause, “So, what’s the deal with Jeongin? You were murdering me with your gaze,” he asks just to be annoying.
“Nothing. We just share a class.”
“Which class? So you two are from two completely different majors-” just as he says it, Jisung realizes. “I’m so stupid,” is the first thing he says as he connects all the dots. Jeongin is an Education Major, and the guy he had a crush on was into baseball. Jeongin was Seungmin’s mysterious pedagogy guy, and Seungmin was Jeongin’s mysterious baseball guy. “It was right in front of me.”
“Are you having a syncope?” Seungmin raises an eyebrow at him.
Jisung turns towards him, grinning, “So it’s Jeongin, uh?”
“No, I’m Seungmin.”
“Stupid. I meant that Jeongin is your pedagogy boy, right?” Jisung exclaims, grabbing Seungmin’s arms.
“Pedagogy boy? You really couldn’t come up with a better nickname?”
Jisung ignores Seungmin's words and starts singing, “Jeongin and Seungmin sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, Then comes marr- Ouch,” he squeals when Seungmin flicks him on the forehead.
“If you don’t stop, I’ll start yelling around about you and Minho,” Seungmin warns him.
“There’s nothing to say about Minho and me,” Jisung mumbles shyly.
Seungmin snorts, “Jeongin told me something else,” and Jisung can see in his eyes the joy of being the one to tease, instead of the one being teased, back again.
“Oh, so the couple tell each other everything, I see,” Jisung pouts.
“We don’t tell each other everything, just frequently talk about whatever’s going on between you and Minho,” Sengmin shrugs.
“Nothing is going on,” Jisung says, feeling strangely disappointed. He shakes the thought away, and grinning, he asks, “Does Jeongin know about your glee club?”
“Shut up.”
—
The recording room where the university radio takes place is professional. Too professional in Jisung' s eyes. The fancy microphones in front of him and the too-expensive headphones feel like a mockery. Considering that the only reason for his and Chan’s presence there is to advertise the newspaper in the hope of attracting one or two more occasional readers, hence earning enough money to keep publishing.
“We’ll ask you a few questions about your work. You know about how you decide which article to write and stuff like that,” the radio speaker, a fellow student, explains.
“Perfect,” Chan nods.
“Then, we need you to stay for the start of the next segment. It's just one call from one of the listeners before we go to commercial, and then you’re free to leave.”
“Everything’s clear.”
“Good. The commercial is about to end. Get ready,” the radio host says.
“Yep,” Jisung responds, putting on his headphones. He hears the end of an advertisement and then the radio program’s jingle.
“Welcome back! Today we have two very important guests who have joined us!” the speaker beams two tones higher than when he was talking just a second before. Jisung and Chan share an amused look.
The program continues smoothly with a quick introduction and a few questions. As the interview segment is about to end, Jisung can say he’s quite proud of himself for responding without much quiver in his voice and for making Chan and the radio host laugh twice.
“Before we let Chan and Jisung go, it’s time for everyone's favourite moments! Get ready for our radio own cupid session!” The host announces, catching Jisung's attention. “We already have a call. Of course, as always, it’s anonymous, under a nickname you choose, so don’t be shy about confessing everything you want! We’re here with our guest to help you with your love problems!”
Oh, now Jisung is excited. He has to admit he’s quite a fan of dating shows. Having the opportunity to watch something similar happen live is quite entertaining.
“Hello, can you hear me?” the host says while reading something on the tablet in front of him. Suddenly, Jisung sees him becoming red as he says, “Can you hear me, uhmm- can you hear me homokitty69?”
Chan chokes on air as he tries to muffle a laugh.
“Yes, I can hear you. Hi, I’m homokitty69, and I have a confession,” the caller responds seriously, despite the obvious intent behind the call.
Jisung swears he heard the voice somewhere, but he can’t quite remember where.
“You see, I’m trying to get the attention of this guy I like, but he keeps ignoring me,” Homokitty69 says with an exaggeratedly sad tone.
The radio speaker clears his voice, seeming interested in the caller’s story, “What have you done till now to make this guy notice you?”
At the question, Homokitty69 audibly sighs, and Jisung hears Chan chuckle at his theatrality, “Oh, everything! I’m trying everything. I flirt, I wink at him, I let him interview me, I even offered my ass to him-” Jisung jumps up from his seat. It’s clear now where he heard the voice. It’s fucking Lee Minho.
Before the host can speak, as he’s still trying to recompose himself after Minho’s words, Jisung angrily exclaims, “Maybe you should leave the man alone instead! Or learn how to flirt normally for fucks-”
“Homokitty69!” Chan yells before Jisung can finish his sentence. He clears his voice, giving Jiusng a cautioning glance and asks, “What- uhm what makes this guy attractive to you?”
“Nice question,” Minho responds, amused as Jisung is about to throw the table upside down, “he’s just too cute, walking around the campus with his headphones on, doing his serious journalist stuff.”
At homokitty69’s words, the radio host seems to light up, “Wait, Journalist?”
“Uh uh,” Homokitty69 hums, and Jisung can now clearly recognize Minho’s airy voice. “You see, I like the Peter Parker type,” he responds.
Jisung becomes red in the face, partly from embarrassment, partly from anger. He shouts, “Peter Parker isn’t even a journalist, he just takes pictures, at least gets your facts straight, you-” he feels Chan’s hands on his mouth before he can cuss out Minho.
On his right, Jisung sees the radio host give him an admonishing look and decides to sit back and try to calm down. If Minho actually says his name, he thinks he will have to transfer to another University. He can’t bear to walk around campus while being known as homoklitty69’s lover. That would be a social suicide. He needs to act fast; as soon as Chan’s hand isn’t covering his mouth anymore, he speaks again, “Homokitty69, maybe the best way to make this person like you is to try a different method.”
There’s a moment of silence, then Minho responds in a softer tone, “What do you suggest I should try?”
Jisung stops for a second to picture him on the other end of the call, waiting for an honest answer. He smiles, thinking about Minho calling the radio, introducing himself with that weird nickname just to talk to him.
"Approach him more cautiously. I think you’re too blunt with your flirting, but your real intentions are not clear,” then he timidly says, “I think your Peter Parker believes you're just making fun of him.”
“I’m not,” Minho responds fast, “I’m serious about him.”
Jisung is about to speak again before the radio host clears his throat, “Well, it was an interesting call, but now we have to say bye. Thanks to homokitty69 for calling and to our guests for being with us today.”
Jisung takes off his headphones as he hears the commercial. He’s still red in the face when the speaker, back to his normal voice, deadpans, “Dude, you really suck at giving dating advice.”
—
Jisung doesn’t really know how he ended up like this. As he watches Lee Felix’s pretty freckles, he wonders if it’s something he said during the radio program or maybe something he did while interviewing the baseball team. He looks at Changbin, next to Felix, who keeps loudly agreeing with everything the blonde says, then at Hyunjin on the other side, who looks like he doesn’t want to be there but still adds comments from time to time.
Jisung really was just minding his business, having a normal lunch break between classes like always, when the baseball team -well, not all the members, thankfully, just three of them- had ambushed him. Now, he looks at his forgotten meal, some leftovers from yesterday's dinner, a sad thing really, and wonders how he ended up listening to Felix singing Minho's praise for the last fifteen minutes.
“He’s truly a born leader, and his body, God, his body is no joke!” Felix exclaims. “Personally, I prefer bigger muscles like Changbin’s one, but Minho is so toned-”
“Lix, do you really think so?” Changbin interrupts him, looking extremely touched by his teammates' words.
“Of course,” the blonde agrees enthusiastically as he starts touching Changbin’s arm, looking extremely pleased.
When Jisung thinks the conversation has ended and the hostage (him) can finally go, Hyunjin crushes his dreams and starts talking. “Minho is also a good dancer,” he says with his eyes still fixed on his phone. At his word, Felix lights up, “Yes, how could I forget!” he beams.
Jisung sighs, resigned to his destiny. He picks up the fork from his tupperware and begins eating again as Felix starts talking again about how amazing his friend is.
“I remember during this particular game how he really helped me-”
“What’s happening here?”
Jisung looks up to see Minho standing in front of their table.
“What are you guys doing?” Minho insists.
“What do you mean? Didn’t you send them to talk to me?” Jisung asks, confused. He truly believed this was another way for Minho to win his attention; in his mind, the baseball captain was by now like a peacock showing off at every occasion. The problem was that Jisung was also starting to feel flattered by his attempts at flirting, even if it meant sacrificing a quiet lunch break.
“Send them? What are they, my minions?” Minho snorts.
Hyunjin gets up from his seat, “Told you it wasn’t a good idea,” he tells his friends.
“Just wanted to put some good words in your favour,” Changbin shrugs.
Jisung sees Minho’s ears getting red, “Yeah, they were just trying to be good wingmen,” he says, adding fuel to the fire, looking up at Minho innocently. This vision of a flustered Minho makes him giddy.
Minho blinks a few times. Then he seems to get back to earth and turns towards his teammates, “Just go away before I set practice at five in the morning for the entirety of next week.”
His words seem to work as the three boys walk away after a hurried bye.
“You know I don’t need my friend to sing my praise to get a date, right?” Minho utters.
Jisung raises his eyebrow at him, "Well, seeing your previous attempt at flirting, I may also think it’s the case, homokitty69,” he says, as he gets up and starts walking away. He feels that for the first time, he has the upper hand in a conversation with Minho.
“Did you like my call?” Minho teases, following him.
Jisung winces as the freezing air hits him as he steps out of the cafeteria. “I liked the part where you stopped talking and listened to my advice,” he says.
“I did listen to your advice. Here I am approaching you cautiously.”
“Cautiously?”
“Yeah, cautiously, composedly, moderately, I want to tell you that I’m very interested in you,” Minho responds, sniffling, his nose red from the cold. Jisung can’t help but stare at his soft features, with his blonde hair and feline eyes. He can’t help but smile at Minho’s words.
“You’re interested in me, uh?” Jisung mumbles shyly.
“As if I wasn’t obvious enough,” Minho grins, “So, Jisung, do you have some time now to come have a coffee with me?”
Jisung looks up at Minho. He has a class in five minutes, but something is stopping him from denying Minho’s invitation; maybe it’s the desire to ask him if he already told his teammates about his decision not to become a professional baseball player, maybe it’s the way his dyed blonde hair falls on his beautiful face, or maybe the intrinsic curiosity as a journalist to know what ti means to be Lee Minho’s lover. “Yes, I’m free now,” he says, “but only if I get another exclusive interview.”
“We’ll see about that,” Minho chuckles, as they start walking beside each other.