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📦 saturday: kitchen utensils 📦
Seonghwa opens the door on a colder, February Saturday morning and Hongjoong wonders if his indigestion will ever stop bothering him whenever he looks at the taller man.
His roommates constantly tell him he eats too much fried chicken and spends too much time stressing about work, and Hongjoong refuses to label the fluttering in his stomach something as cliche as ‘butterflies’.
So yeah, he’s pretty sure it’s indigestion and totally not because he has a big, fat crush on the beautiful man that is his next door neighbour.
“Hi Hongjoong-ah!” Seonghwa greets brightly and his doe eyes pull up into crescent moons behind his black framed glasses as he smiles widely at the brunette. He’s wearing a soft, white, fuzzy sweater with splotches of beige that mimics the patterning of a cow, and it looks cozy on the black haired man.
On top of the indigestion, Hongjoong has now developed heartburn on the spot at the ripe age of twenty eight.
“Hi, Seonghwa-yah!” Hongjoong greets back and stupidly states his thoughts, “you look like a cow!”
“I— hm, uh…” Seonghwa’s smile falters and Hongjoong shakes his head sheepishly.
“No! I didn’t mean that you literally look like a cow, which is a wonderful animal that is very necessary to our cycle of life… I meant that your sweater pattern looks like cow skin.”
“Oh! I guess it kind of does,” Seonghwa giggles and looks down at his sweater. “Are cows this… Fuzzy?”
“Not sure, I don’t touch cows,” Hongjoong shrugs and holds out the cardboard box in his hands, the reason he knocked on Seonghwa’s door in the first place. “Your package was delivered to our unit by mistake again.”
They live in a neighbourhood of attached townhouses: there are rows of complexes and every two doors will share the same house number differentiated by ‘A’ or ‘B’. Hongjoong and his roommates, Wooyoung and Jongho, are 1117B while Seonghwa and his roommates, San and Mingi, are 1117A. Hongjoong understands where the mail mix up lies as they’re only separated by a letter, but this has been a common occurrence for a few months now.
“Thanks, and sorry this keeps happening,” Seonghwa murmurs and accepts the package from Hongjoong. His cheeks are flushed pink in embarrassment as he stares down at the shipping label on top of the box, but Hongjoong doesn’t think the man should be embarrassed at all; it’s the mailman’s fault, so Seonghwa shouldn’t feel badly.
“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” Hongjoong pushes his tortoise shell glasses up his nose bridge and shoves his hands into his pockets. “What’d you order this time? I feel like you get a package everyday. Or, I get a package everyday.”
The raven haired man chuckles nervously and quickly sets the box down on the floor and out of sight. “Uh, just kitchen supplies. San broke some of our cooking utensils while he was baking cookies, so I’m replacing them.”
“Yeah?” Hongjoong laughs at the thought of San beating dough so hard he snaps the handle off a spatula. “Tell San to ease up on the bicep curls, or maybe he was interrogating the cookies? In that case, I’m sure he really told those cookies to dough what he says.”
It’s a lame pun but Hongjoong says it with confidence anyway. And it’s because Seonghwa never fails to burst into a fit of giggles, his whole body shaking with laughter as he beams at the brunette’s joke.
Hongjoong doesn’t think he’s that funny but Seonghwa seems to think so, and the music producer never questions it because it’s nice to have someone laugh at his jokes instead of rolling their eyes.
“You’re so funny, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says when his giggles subside. Then, a bit hesitantly, he adds in a quieter voice, “your um, your partner or significant other must think so, too.”
Then the raven haired man looks up at Hongjoong from under his eyelashes, a feat that’s a bit hilarious since Seonghwa is taller than Hongjoong. But his eyelashes are so pretty, his cheeks are so rosy, and his lips are so kissable with the way he pouts them out slightly.
He’s so fucking beautiful.
And he’s waiting for an answer.
Hongjoong brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck, the skin heated, and he hopes he wasn’t staring too long at Seonghwa’s face. At first, he states boldly, “I’m single… As a Pringle,” and then he starts to ramble because Seonghwa makes his indigestion flare up and he literally gave him heartburn. “And that English saying doesn’t make sense, because Pringles have like, seventy chips in the can, which isn’t lonely at all. More like a nightmare, can you imagine being in a room with seventy people? I don’t even know ten people, which include my own family—”
Seonghwa just watches Hongjoong word-vomit like an idiot with interested eyes and an amused smile. Said idiot only stops when the schoolteacher lifts his hand to brush the back of his knuckles against Hongjoong’s right hand.
The brunette tries not to startle at the feeling of Seonghwa’s soft skin on his. Instead, he cuts himself off of his random rant and ends with, “anyways. You’d know if I was dating, cause I wouldn’t look like this.” He laughs fakely and gestures to his Saturday morning pajamas of his jacket thrown over his sleep shirt and cotton, blue sweats with cartoon squirrels all over them.
“I think you and your squirrels look cute,” Seonghwa says and knocks his knuckles against Hongjoong’s again. The music producer knows that wasn’t an accident.
“I should probably go now,” Hongjoong says abruptly, heartburn now unbearable. He brings the hand that the taller man just touched and salutes to his neighbour. “Enjoy your package, Seonghwa!”
And with that, Hongjoong swivels on his heel and scurries down the steps and up his own in record time.
Behind the safety of his door, Hongjoong lets out a guttural groan.
What the fuck.
📦 monday: school supplies 📦
The next time Hongjoong gives Seonghwa his misdelivered package, he catches the schoolteacher as he’s leaving for work in the early hours of a Monday morning.
“Morning, Seonghwa!” Hongjoong calls out from his porch when he sees the raven haired man exit as well. “Do you mind if I give you another box? It’s a small one.”
“Of course!”
Hongjoong pushes back into his house and retrieves the small box from their console table by the door. It’s a little bit bigger than Hongjoong’s hand in length but it’s hefty in weight, and when Hongjoong goes down the steps it sounds like a few items rattle within.
Seonghwa meets him in between both of their staircases. He’s bundled up in his usual long trenchcoat, has a pair of beige earmuffs on his head, and a scarf wrapped around his neck. A large, leather tote bag hangs off his right shoulder and he’s holding a thermos in his left hand.
“What’s inside this time?” Hongjoong asks as he hands over the small box. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable.”
“It’s school supplies. A hot glue gun, paperweights, small notepads, a stapler…” Seonghwa responds and accepts the box, their hands brushing. It’s nothing special as Seonghwa is wearing mittens, but the feeling of the fabric of his outerwear still has Hongjoong’s cheeks heating up.
Ugh, he’s so pathetic.
“You have to buy that? The school doesn’t provide it?”
Seonghwa rubs at his nose. “Um, heh… Yeah, they provide some…”
The silence that follows is a bit awkward, so Hongjoong asks his next question, “are you headed to work?”
“I’m early… So I was actually headed to Lemon Drop for a coffee and a muffin,” Seonghwa says as he lets one of his tote bag straps fall off his shoulder to shove the box in. “Do you have time to come with me before you go to work?”
Hongjoong’s eyes flicker to the thermos in Seonghwa’s hand but he doesn’t bring attention to it. “Sure, I was going to get my coffee fix closer to my company anyway.”
Hongjoong works as a music producer at KQ Entertainment, which is only a fifteen minute walk east from their townhouse complex and Seonghwa works as an elementary schoolteacher at Seven Seasons Public School, which is only a fifteen minute walk in the opposite direction. Along the street are many locally owned, small businesses that the neighbourhood likes to frequent and support.
They converse while walking to Lemon Drop and Hongjoong nearly slips a total of three times, his sneakers no match for the icy sidewalks in February. By the third time, they’re just outside of the cafe and Hongjoong has to hold onto Seonghwa’s shoulder to prevent himself from doing the splits when his heel slides on an ice patch.
“Shit, it’s slippery,” the brunette curses, legs spread more than hip width as he tries to regain his footing. He smiles apologetically up at Seonghwa, whose arm he’s using as leverage, and attempts to bring his right foot in but it keeps sliding on the ice in front of the door. “This sidewalk needs some fucking seasoning.”
“Seasoning?” Seonghwa snorts and holds Hongjoong’s elbow, though he’s not helping at all as he watches Hongjoong slip like a baby deer trying to find its balance on inexperienced limbs.
“Salt! Where’s the salt? Cover it in flour or something too, damn,” Hongjoong finally manages to get his feet under him and he quickly reaches for the door of the cafe so he doesn’t have to hang off of his neighbour. It’s bad enough that Seonghwa had to witness that at all.
“Flour isn’t a seasoning, it’s a staple ingredient,” Seonghwa chuckles and enters the cafe as Hongjoong holds the door open for him to go first. Then the raven haired man frowns, “you’re not seasoning your food with flour, are you? Unless you’re making a roux of some sort…”
“Er, I don’t cook much,” Hongjoong admits as they stand behind the current person ordering at the cash register. “I usually get takeout… If I remember to eat.”
“You don’t know how to cook?” Seonghwa regards Hongjoong but he’s not judgmental; it looks like he’s assessing the brunette instead as he purses his lips in thought.
“Well, I know how to cook eggs! Oil up the pan and then drop that sucker in there,” Hongjoong says proudly and pushes up his glasses. “I don’t wanna toot my own horn, but I can make some pretty delicious eggs.”
“Really? You’ll have to cook me breakfast some time then.”
Hongjoong stares at the back of Seonghwa’s head as the teacher steps up to the register to place his order with the familiar barista, Yeosang.
Was that an implication of some sort? Or simply just a friendly invite? He steps up after Seonghwa and orders an americano so he can offer to pay for both of their orders.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that… I got a muffin too…”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll buy you a coffee next time,” Seonghwa says as they step to the side to wait for their orders. The raven haired man squishes his thermos and muffin into his tote bag to free up his hands. “Or, Hongjoong-ah…” Seonghwa’s mittened hands fold over each other nervously. “Maybe I could teach you a few recipes? I cook all the time for myself, San, and Mingi, so you could come over some time and I’ll show you the easiest ones I know.”
Hongjoong raises his eyebrows. His indigestion flares up on an empty stomach at the glorious time of 7:36AM at the thought of him and Seonghwa in the kitchen cooking together: dancing around each other while preparing ingredients, taking turns at the stove, washing dishes together, sharing kisses in between— “T-That’s okay, Seonghwa-yah… I might be a hazard. I’d probably burn down your kitchen!”
Seonghwa smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he lets out a chuckle but it sounds forced. “Then… I could come over to yours? You might be more comfortable in your own kitchen, and I’ll purchase the groceries beforehand—”
A playful tune pierces the air and cuts Seonghwa off, so loud that it actually blares over the whirring of the espresso machines. The baristas shoot them curious glances and Yeosang raises an eyebrow.
Hongjoong holds up a hand to Yeosang in apology and then glances at Seonghwa abashedly. “Sorry, Seonghwa, I have to get this…” Seonghwa nods in understanding and the brunette takes out his cell phone to tap the ‘accept’ button on the screen before pressing it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hongjoong-ah, are you on your way? Echo Entertainment is here already, so Jonghoon is making them coffee,” Kim Kyungmun, Hongjoong’s colleague and fellow music producer, says at such a rapid speed that his words blend into each other. “I know they’re early, but it would be great if we could start ASAP! We’ll try to stall them until the meeting time, but their CEO is with them and Kyuwook wants us to show them that we’re adaptable to curveballs, whatever the fuck that means—”
“Fuck,” Hongjoong pulls back his jacket sleeve to check the time on his watch. If he leaves Lemon Drop now, he could definitely make it to the company by 8AM… If he runs. “Yeah, I’ll be right there, just distract them with cookies and coffee!”
“Cookies? We don’t have cookies—”
“Bake some! We have an oven!”
“It’s a toaster oven, what the fuck Hongjoong—”
“I’m running! Find some cookies!” Hongjoong ends the call and shoves his phone into his back pocket. He gives Seonghwa an apologetic look, “I’m so sorry, Seonghwa-yah, but I have to go. It’s urgent.”
“That’s okay,” Seonghwa blinks at him as Yeosang calls out their order. “Do you want your coffee—”
“No, you have it, I have to literally run!” The producer gives his neighbour one last rueful smile and dashes to the door to tear it open.
When Hongjoong exits the cafe, he wipes out on the ice patch from hell and has to crawl to the safety of the concrete of the sidewalk. He scrambles to his feet quickly and screams at the glass window of Lemon Drop, “Kang Yeosang, put some fucking seasoning on the ice! This is a lawsuit!”
From inside, Seonghwa grabs both cups of coffee and clarifies for Yeosang, “he means salt. Salt the ice to avoid getting sued.”
Outside, Hongjoong brushes his ass off and sprints down the street.
📦 wednesday: clothes drying rack 📦
The third package comes on a Wednesday and is the biggest thus far, though it’s also the lightest and kind of familiar, like Hongjoong’s seen it before. It’s about four-feet-by-four-feet and only three inches in thickness. When Hongjoong shakes the box a little bit he hears minimal movement within.
Without heading inside first, the producer takes the box from his porch and descends the steps to head over to Seonghwa’s unit, 1117A.
It’s Mingi who opens the door and he grins knowingly when he sees the package clutched in front of Hongjoong. “Hey hyung,” the taller man greets. “Seonghwa hyung isn’t home yet, he had some after school meetings. Can you come back later? Like in an hour or so?”
“Come back?” Hongjoong parrots, confused, and he holds the flat box out to Mingi. “You can just take it, right?”
Mingi stares at the package but makes no move to accept it from the producer. “Uh… I could…”
“I mean,” Hongjoong chuckles, “you guys both live here…”
“Right… You’re right… Yes, we do,” Mingi says slowly but he still doesn’t reach for the package. He leans away from the door to look at something within their house before he closes the door so that only a sliver of his body and face are visible, as if he’s trying to hide something from Hongjoong. “But you know what… Our house is full at the moment. So I can’t accept that package right now.”
Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow as Mingi’s words only perplex him more. “Er, what?”
“Yeah… Uh, we’re three dudes. It can get really messy in here with food and stuff. There are shoes and furniture everywhere, and I just bought— uh, I’m setting up… A tent…”
The producer knows for a fact that Seonghwa is a very clean and organized person as he’s told Hongjoong many times when they converse. He’s also skeptical of Mingi’s recent purchase given the current weather. “A tent, Mingi-yah? It’s February.”
“Have you heard of indoor camping, hyung?”
The brunette tries to peek in through the sliver of space into 1117A but Mingi has a couple of inches on him and the younger man’s broad shoulders take up the entirety of where the door is open.
“Are you sure you can’t just… I don’t know, put it in your coat closet for now? Instead of me coming back?”
“That defeats the point of—” Mingi starts and then his lips press into a thin line and his forehead creases regretfully as if he wasn’t supposed to say that. “Fuck, I mean… The coat closet is full. With… Umbrellas.” The taller man snaps his fingers, “shit, coats! Yes, coats, which is a better answer. I think it’s best if you come back.”
“Wait, Mingi-yah, I—”
“What’s that? Coming, San-ah! Sorry, I gotta go, hyung, but you can come back in an hour!” And with that Mingi closes the door completely in Hongjoong’s face.
“San… Didn’t call you…” Hongjoong grumbles to the closed door of 1117A and lugs the package back down the stairs and up his own to wait for an hour.
After making himself some cup noodles, Hongjoong loses track of time working on the revisions for the Echo Entertainment demo. He almost doesn’t hear the knocking on the front door but coincidentally catches it just as he slips off his headphones to take a bathroom break.
Wooyoung and Jongho aren’t home yet, so Hongjoong shuffles to the door and opens it to find Seonghwa there with a metal container of something in his hands.
“Hi, Hongjoong-ah,” the raven haired man says warmly and he looks so fucking adorable with his beige earmuffs atop his head. “Mingi mentioned you came by earlier.”
“Yes, I have a huge package for you,” Hongjoong reaches for said package propped up by the console table and cringes at his own words. “Sorry, that didn’t sound right. You know what I mean though.”
Seonghwa giggles, cheeks rosy from what Hongjoong assumes is the cold, and holds out the container in his hands. “Let’s trade? I brought you some dinner if you haven’t eaten yet.”
“O-Oh,” Hongjoong stares at the container. It’s nicely wrapped in a rectangular, metal lunchbox: there’s an elastic band to ensure the lid doesn’t slide off despite the metal clasps on the side and Seonghwa’s placed a handwritten note neatly underneath the elastic. “You made this?”
“It’s fried rice,” Seonghwa beams and of course Hongjoong’s heartburn acts up as he stares at his beautiful neighbour holding the homemade food. Seonghwa is the picture perfect partner and Hongjoong doesn’t know what to do with that information the moment his brain thinks about it. “I hope you’re not allergic to anything. There’s chicken thigh, barbecue pork, peas, corn, egg, soy sauce, sesame oil, oyster sauce, white pepper…”
“Thanks, that’s so—” The word ‘sexy’ almost slips out of his mouth and Hongjoong just catches himself. But his thoughts get jumbled, his words get mixed up in his mouth, and he still blurts the word ‘sexy’ out loud anyway: “— Kind of you. Fried rice is sexy.”
“Is it?” Seonghwa’s still smiling but his right eyebrow raises in uncertainty. “I guess it is…?”
“Fried grains are tantalizing… Every shape is different… It acts as the perfect vehicle to your mouth for curries, proteins, sauces— that’s what makes it sexy," Hongjoong doubles down though he knows it doesn’t really make sense and places the container of food on the console table by the door. He clears his throat loudly to put an end to his unintelligible word-vomit and holds out the package to Seonghwa. “And this is for you. What is it, if you don’t mind me asking all the time?”
“It’s a clothes drying rack,” Seonghwa mutters and takes the box from the producer.
“Didn’t you order that not too long ago?” Hongjoong ponders. He vaguely remembers bringing over a package a month ago and Seonghwa had said the same thing, which is why the package dimensions looked familiar.
“Um, yes,” Seonghwa’s rosy cheeks flush darker and he blinks at Hongjoong in surprise, clearly not expecting the man to remember that. “I— um. I… I have a lot of clothes...”
“I see,” Hongjoong laughs; the mental image of Seonghwa flitting around his house to find extra space to hang all of his clothes is quite endearing. “I thought you were gonna say that San broke it with his incredible strength or something!”
Seonghwa frowns and mumbles under his breath, “ugh, that’s a better excuse…”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing,” Seonghwa says quickly and is back to smiling at the brunette. “Anyways, thanks for the package, Hongjoong-ah. I…” The raven haired man trails off and briefly glances away before fixing his gaze intently on Hongjoong. “I realized at Lemon Drop that we haven’t exchanged phone numbers yet! Can you believe that, after almost half a year of being neighbours? I, um, I wrote mine down on the note if you wanted to text me some time.”
Hongjoong’s ears heat up and he looks at the container with the note on top of it. In Seonghwa’s neat and lovely handwriting below the short message of ‘I hope you enjoy the food!’, are the ten digits of his phone number with a little heart beside it.
“That’s—” Once again, his heartburn and his indigestion come back at full force and his jumbled brain tries to pep talk him with ‘don’t be weird!’ and ‘give him your phone number too!’. He ends up blending the two together when it comes out of his mouth: “— A weird phone number.”
Seonghwa’s cheeks puff out cutely in bemusement and Hongjoong sighs at himself. Seonghwa then looks alarmed by his heavy sigh.
“Sorry, that came out wrong… Thanks again for the sexy rice, Seonghwa, and the weird phone number,” Hongjoong tries to save face and decides that he’s going to submerge himself in the bathtub later, letting fate decide if he’s worthy of living. “I’m gonna go drown— I’m going to go… DJ some beats. Enjoy your rack!”
And the brunette gently closes the door to not appear rude. He locks the door, presses his back to it as he slides down to the floor, and then faceplants right into the closet mirror directly in front of him.
Cheek smushed into the mirror, Hongjoong lets out a pitiful sob. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I need help…”
📦 friday: lamp 📦
The fourth package arrives at 1117B on a Friday morning, the same morning Hongjoong reaches his tipping point: He can no longer deny his big, fat crush on Seonghwa (and multiple self diagnosed health problems) and the absolute atrocities that spew out of his mouth whenever he’s around his pretty neighbour.
He storms into the kitchen in a panic and shouts, “I just had a sex dream about Seonghwa.”
Wooyoung chokes on his eggs while Jongho calmly places his toast down and pushes his plate away from himself.
“Excuse me?” Jongho says as he and Wooyoung take in Hongjoong’s appearance: the brunette’s worn sleep shirt has a ring of sweat around the neckline and there’s another questionable stain across the midriff. His brown hair is in complete disarray, his entire face is flushed red all the way down to his sternum, and thank GOD he’s still wearing boxers.
“I need advice,” Hongjoong elaborates as he shuffles further into the room and stares at his roommates on the other side of the kitchen island. He thinks about the last three packages he gave to Seonghwa and how he failed miserably in flirting with his neighbour. “On how to ask him out.”
“Oh!” Wooyoung claps his hands together excitedly while Jongho says flatly, “pass.”
“Let’s help him!” Wooyoung nudges the youngest roommate and, as if reading Hongjoong’s mind, says, “I’m tired of watching him flirt with Seonghwa hyung.” Wooyoung uses his fingers to do air quotations when he says ‘flirt’. “He’s like those chickens that peck at the corns but can’t quite pick them up, so they’re left pecking and pecking and getting nothing in return. Stupid chickens… Anyway, Hongjoong is the chicken and Seonghwa is the corn.”
“That’s weirdly specific,” Jongho muses while Hongjoong, even though he kind of agrees, deadpans, “did you just call me stupid?”
“Jongho-yah, get the projector! Immediately!” Wooyoung screams and abandons his breakfast in favour of running out of the room.
“No! It’s in storage!” Jongho yells after him.
“Immediately!” Wooyoung screams back.
“Use the fucking TV! No one uses projectors anymore!”
“Goddamnit, Jongho! Let me have this!”
While Wooyoung retrieves his laptop, the doorbell rings and Hongjoong answers it to no one at the door but a cardboard package on the porch. It’s a foot tall and Hongjoong estimates that it weighs about five pounds when he picks it up to bring inside. As usual, he places it on the console table to remind himself to bring it over to 1117A later and his gaze lingers on the framed note with Seonghwa’s phone number.
He left it there on Wednesday and Wooyoung teased him about it endlessly. The day after Seonghwa brought over the rice, Jongho jokingly put the note in a ludicrous 4x6 golden frame since Hongjoong still didn’t text their neighbour, the music producer too shy and crippled with anxiety over what to even say.
The three roommates end up in the living room, crowded around the television with Wooyoung’s laptop hooked up via HDMI and a laser pointer in his hands. Hongjoong and Jongho sit on the couch like two diligent students as they stare at Wooyoung expectantly.
“Welcome to Dating 101!” Wooyoung exclaims and uses the laser pointer to circle the title card enthusiastically.
There are random and embarrassing photos of Hongjoong sporadically pasted around the big, bold words of ‘Dating 101’, and only beautiful and aesthetic pictures of Seonghwa; it looks like the Hongjoong pictures are from Wooyoung’s own phone camera roll and the Seonghwa pictures were taken from the teacher’s social media.
“When did you even make this?” Jongho asks incredulously, “you were only gone for like… Ten minutes.”
“What the fuck is that picture?” Hongjoong cries out and points to a particularly unattractive close up of him trying to cut up a steak. He’s clutching the knife and fork weirdly in his grip and the brunette squints behind his glasses, “am I drunk?”
“No, that’s how you hold utensils,” Wooyoung says. “I’ve been trying to tell you that it’s strange as hell, but you’re bringing it up now when I’m on the subject of dating?”
“Because I don’t normally look at myself? But now I’m looking at it—” Hongjoong starts to say but Jongho holds up his hand to shush the oldest roommate.
“Hyung, please, it’s not the time to discuss your utensil habits. I need to see this presentation Wooyoung’s put together in ten minutes.”
“I know you’re impressed,” Wooyoung says smugly before clicking to the next slide. It’s a stock picture of chocolate chip cookies. “Dating… Is like baking cookies.”
“Oh God, I shouldn't have gotten my expectations up,” Jongho groans and his head falls forwards into his hands while Hongjoong stares at the television intently.
“You need to prepare all the ingredients, which is equivalent to preparing you,” Wooyoung explains and clicks to the next slide, titled ‘Prep’. The screen is filled with random baking ingredients like butter, vanilla extract, and sugar, coupled with more pictures of Hongjoong in his hoodies, sweatpants, and squirrel pajama pants that he’s currently wearing. “First order of business: you need to dress better.”
Hongjoong looks down at his squirrel pants. “Okay… Like what?”
“Tighter clothing to show off your assets, something fitted to your chest. A leather jacket. Strategically ripped jeans. Cool and casual, but not over the top like you’re trying too hard. Stop wearing your glasses—”
“I have to see to function, Wooyoung—”
“Laser eye surgery exists. Also, I know you have contact lenses. Jab them into your eyeballs and let’s throw on a pair of sunglasses instead.”
“Sunglasses? What if I’m indoors?”
“Then flirt outside. I know you mainly interact with Seonghwa hyung outside his door with all those misdelivered packages you bring over.” Wooyoung waves a hand at the medium sized package that was delivered not too long ago on their console table. “I’ll help you dress up later.”
“Okay…”
Wooyoung clicks to the next slide, titled ‘Combine and Form’. Around the giant picture of a mixing bowl and cookie dough balls on a baking sheet are more embarrassing, blurry photos of Hongjoong doing handstands, falling over, and jumping in alarm at something. “Second order or business: you need to improve your aura and flirting.”
“Are you taking these photos of me? When have you been doing that? Why are they all so… Humiliating?”
“He’s always taking photos,” Jongho responds for Wooyoung, who just looks proud of his photography. “And unfortunately, you always seem to be in an embarrassing or compromising position.” The youngest roommate gives Hongjoong a pointed look and gestures to them on the couch, Hongjoong’s squirrel pants, and Wooyoung’s slideshow. “This is already an example.”
To prove Jongho’s point, Wooyoung whips out his phone, zooms in, and snaps a quick picture of Hongjoong’s bewildered expression.
“Anyways. You need to stand up tall and stop hunching.” Wooyoung stands up straight and rolls his shoulder back so his chest appears slightly puffed out. He crosses his arms over his chest and flexes his forearms. “And show off your upper body muscles, I know you go to the gym at KQ when you’re not rotting in the studio.”
Hongjoong unconsciously mirrors Wooyoung’s pose; he rolls his shoulders back to straighten his spine and crosses his arms over his chest.
Wooyoung nods in satisfaction and continues, “now, we’re gonna help you form some coherent, smooth talking. Let’s try: you bring the package over and Seonghwa answers the door.” Wooyoung clasps his hands together and bats his eyes dramatically at Hongjoong while (badly) imitating Seonghwa’s voice, “hi Hongjoong-ah. What brings you over here?” Wooyoung then flashes his laser pointer directly into Hongjoong’s eyes. “And you reply with?”
“Er, with what I usually say?” Hongjoong lifts his hand to block the red light and repeats the words he routinely says to his gorgeous neighbour, “hey, Seonghwa-yah. Your package was delivered to us again… Maybe we should take this up with the mailman and delivery services? That’ll be a fun conversation... Uh, I brought it over and if you don’t mind me asking, what’s inside—”
Wooyoung lets out a loud snore, cutting Hongjoong off. “Wrong. Weak. Boring. Stop word-vomiting and cut to the chase. If you ever find that you’re starting to ramble, hit the pause button, gather your thoughts, and clear your head. Be confident and assertive. You say,” the man pretends to lean against an imaginary wall, tilts his head and his imaginary sunglasses down, and (badly) imitates Hongjoong’s voice, “hey Seonghwa-yah. I got your package. Let me bring it inside for you.”
“Inside? Why would I bring it inside for him—”
“Ugh, to show off your strength! And to get inside of him— the house.”
“What if it’s a smaller box? Like that one,” Hongjoong points to the package on the console table again.
“It doesn’t matter, it’s the principle,” Wooyoung sighs. “You want to be inside the house so you can ask him out on a date. It’s lame to do it standing outside on his porch.”
“You just said to flirt outside because of the sunglasses I’ll be wearing. You're contradicting yourself.”
Wooyoung lets out another huge sigh, “hyung, different situations will have different circumstances. Yes, you can flirt outside, but when you ask the Big Question, you should be in a more comfortable situation and setting.”
Hongjoong looks at Jongho for affirmation. Jongho shrugs nonchalantly.
“Then, once inside, you flirt a little more,” Wooyoung clears his throat and, again in his (bad) Hongjoong voice, he says, “your home is lovely, Seonghwa-yah. Almost as lovely as you. What’d you order this time around? Oh, a new bedframe? Why don’t I help you put it together?” Wooyoung’s lips pull up into a knowing grin.
Hongjoong chokes on his spit, “w-what if it’s not a bedframe?”
“Then you improvise,” Wooyoung alternates between his normal speaking voice and his (bad) Hongjoong voice, “is it skin care? Why don’t you show me your nightly routine… Tonight. Is it a candle? We can light it when we enjoy a meal, me and you… Tonight. Is it shower curtains? I’d love to hang it up for you and admire it while I use your shower… Tonight. Is it a t-shirt? You’d look amazing in it but I bet it’d look better on the floor when I take it off of you… Tonight. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“It’s a little sleazy,” Jongho comments but he’s also smiling. “It’ll definitely work on Seonghwa hyung.”
“You think so?” Hongjoong asks incredulously and pushes up his glasses.
Wooyoung clicks to the next slide, titled ‘Bake’. The tray of cookies are now in the oven and over top of each little dough ball is a picture of Hongjoong making ridiculous expressions: it seems like Wooyoung snapped every picture while the brunette was mid-smile or mid-sentence and it makes Hongjoong look sleazy.
“Seriously, how did you edit these in ten minutes?” Jongho murmurs under his breath.
Hongjoong also murmurs, “you have so many fucking photos of me…”
“Last order of business: be straightforward when you ask him out. Say: “Seonghwa-yah, do you want to go on a date with me?” Don’t leave room for any misunderstandings.”
Both Wooyoung and Jongho glare intensely at the oldest roommate, who splutters, “what the fuck? Why are you… I don’t— what do you mean ‘misunderstandings’? Why would there be a misunderstanding?”
“You’re the king of misunderstandings,” Jongho says. “I agree with Wooyoung hyung on this one. Just ask him out explicitly.”
“Thank you, Jongho.” Wooyoung clicks to the very last slide, which is a picture of the chocolate chip cookies freshly baked. He’s edited more pictures of Seonghwa on top of the finished cookies and uses the laser pointer to circle each photo of their attractive neighbour. “And then after you’ve wooed him and swept him off his feet, Seonghwa hyung will look like this! Hot, melty, and delicious. Waiting and ready to be eaten! Literally.”
Hongjoong and Jongho stare at the last slide of all the Seonghwa cookies.
“I’m not sure if this cookie analogy really lines up with what you’re saying about dating,” is Hongjoong’s conclusion.
“I agree with Hongjoong hyung on this one. There are better comparisons.”
“That’s what you got out of this whole presentation?” Wooyoung scoffs at Hongjoong and then pouts at Jongho. “Stop flip-flopping, Jongho-yah, and pick a hyung to agree with.”
“Nah, but I am impressed you put all of that together in ten minutes. And that’s the only compliment you’re gonna get.” Jongho rocks forward to stand and stretches his arms over his head. “I gotta go to work. Good luck, Hongjoong hyung.”
“I still have a few hours before I head to the dance studio,” Wooyoung says and beckons for Hongjoong to follow him to his room. “Let’s prep you and get you dressed up for when you deliver that package later.”
Wooyoung lends Hongjoong a faux leather jacket, an impossibly tight black shirt, a pair of baggy, ripped jeans, rectangular tinted sunglasses, and a few rings and accessories. The producer lays the items out on his bed to change into later as he refuses to head to work in this outfit.
Later in the evening, Hongjoong stands in front of the mirror hanging off the back of his bedroom door and stares at his reflection forlornly.
The black shirt is stretched so tight over his pectorals Hongjoong is worried he won’t be able to take the clothing off later as it was a struggle to put on. It hugs his torso so lovingly that the hem of the shirt rides up with the slightest movement of Hongjoong’s arms and so it exposes his navel and the waistband of his boxers. The jeans sit comfortably on his hips but the holes at the knees are so large they’re practically gaping.
Hongjoong feels utterly ridiculous when he shrugs on the leather jacket and slides the sunglasses onto his face. He could really use a pep talk right now, but Wooyoung teaches at the dance studio in the evenings and Jongho has been staying at the office late to finish up his financial reports for a current project.
The producer ambles to the front door, fixes some hair off of his face in the mirror hanging over the console table, and stares at the package on top of the table that’s been there since the morning.
He checks his watch for the time to ensure Seonghwa should be home from work, takes a deep breath, grabs the package, and heads outside.
The February cold hits his knee holes and it’s like he’s doused in ice water to remind him how absurd he must look. The brunette contemplates retreating to change and goes back and forth on his steps with indecisiveness. He stops when his thighs protest at the constant up and down, but mainly because an older lady walking her dog asks if he’s okay and demands that he put on pants that don’t have craters in them.
Hongjoong gives the woman a courteous nod and finally decides that it doesn’t hurt to try to flirt with his neighbour while wearing Wooyoung’s clothes. If it backfires… He’ll just set the jacket on fire in the trash can outside.
He’s twenty percent sure Wooyoung won’t mind.
Hongjoong struts up the steps of 1117A and firmly knocks on the door with what he hopes is confidence.
It swings inwards to reveal Seonghwa, who’s dressed down for the evening in a black tank top and grey sweatpants. The tank top is fitted to his slim waist and reveals his toned arms and Hongjoong momentarily forgets why he came over in the first place.
“Hi, Hong—” The rest of Seonghwa’s greeting dies in his throat as he scans Hongjoong from head to toe, eyes wide and mouth parted in shock.
The brunette is too busy repeating Wooyoung’s advice in his head to notice Seonghwa’s surprise.
Be confident and assertive. Hongjoong takes a deep breath in.
He lowers his sunglasses to look at Seonghwa like Wooyoung had mimicked earlier in the day and winks at the raven haired man. “Hey, Seonghwa. I brought this package over for you, let me help you bring it in.” He feels silly offering to bring in such a small package that could easily be handed over, but he ignores his hammering heart and hopes he appears cool and relaxed.
Seonghwa doesn’t give Hongjoong a verbal reply and his high cheekbones are flushed pink. His doe eyes flit from Hongjoong’s face to his chest to his knees three times over before the man takes a step back and opens the door wider to allow for Hongjoong to step inside.
The producer kicks the snow off the bottom of his sneakers before stepping onto the shoe mat inside. He thinks about removing his shoes, but knows he may die of embarrassment if he stays in this outfit any longer pretending to be something he’s not. His heartburn blazes, his indigestion churns uncomfortably, and he figures he should ask Seonghwa the Big Question of ‘will you go out with me’ quickly.
Then he can race home before he combusts.
“Here you go.” Hongjoong sets the box down on the floor by the closet and inquires in a deeper pitch than his normal voice, “what’d you order?”
Seonghwa blinks at the shorter man and after a few seconds, he shakes his head slightly before he answers timidly, “um… It’s— uh, it’s a lamp…”
“A lamp,” Hongjoong says slowly and scans his immediate surroundings of Seonghwa’s house to try to think of a good pick up line to follow like Wooyoung had with all his examples.
A lamp is probably the worst thing Seonghwa could have ordered for Hongjoong to think of a pick up line, and he can’t help but notice that, contrary to Mingi’s words on Wednesday, 1117A is immaculately clean and there are no tents pitched in the living room.
There are also several differently shaped lamps scattered in the living room; there’s two by the television, one on each side of the sofa, and at least three on the shelves of a decorative bookcase.
“A lamp…” Hongjoong repeats, trying to buy time.
“A lamp,” Seonghwa says again, not meeting Hongjoong’s eye as he tries not to stare at the sliver of skin of Hongjoong’s exposed, lower abdomen.
Hongjoong misses it as his brain is working overtime to think of something flirty. “A lamp is very useful… It brings light and— brightens! Brightens the room… Like you.”
Seonghwa is quiet. He’s the quietest Hongjoong has ever seen him as he glares at the shorter man’s midriff, like the waistband of Hongjoong’s boxers offends him. Hongjoong hikes the jeans up self-consciously and waits for Seonghwa’s reaction because he’s already mustering up the courage to ask the Big Question next.
The teacher frowns and finally makes eye contact with the brunette. “Huh?”
He looks troubled and Hongjoong feels his confidence start to waver. The shorter man puffs out his chest slightly and crosses his arms over his chest, making sure to flex his forearms as he inhales to deliver his final line.
Be straightforward. Don’t leave any room for misunderstandings.
“Seonghwa, I was thinking about—” Hongjoong abruptly cuts himself off since he knows starting the sentence off like that will lead to him word-vomiting. “Seonghwa, may I ask you—” His mouth snaps shut again. May I? Is he asking permission? Maybe he should lead with a line and flirt more?
He flushes in shame when he sees Seonghwa staring at him, his expression a mixture of anticipation and… Disappointment? That little bit of disappointment seeds doubt into the music producer’s mind and his shoulders droop with apprehension.
This is a mistake. He’s not ready to ask Seonghwa out, but he did try his hand in flirting so he can count that as a small win.
“Actually, I should go, I’m—” Hongjoong’s goodbyes to his stunning neighbour have always been something stupid, like rushing off to work, claiming he’s ‘DJ-ing beats’, or telling Seonghwa to enjoy wherever it is he bought. He decides to try to appear less asocial when he finishes coolly, “I’m meeting up with someone later.”
At that, Seonghwa’s expression is completely crestfallen. Hongjoong thought the raven haired man’s reaction to his new outfit would be more positive, but this whole exchange is leaving a sour taste in the producer’s mouth and on top of his indigestion and heartburn, he might be developing a serious migraine.
“Okay, thanks for the package, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says stoically and he opens the door fast, like he can’t wait for Hongjoong to get out of the house.
“No problem.” Hongjoong slips through the open door and he bites his tongue to prevent himself from saying ‘enjoy your lamp!’ and instead says, “bye, Seonghwa-yah!”
“Bye,” Seonghwa sniffles and closes the door.
Hongjoong is dumbfounded as he stands on the porch. His exposed stomach and knees are cold and yet the bite of frost is nothing in comparison to the heaviness of his heart and the unease in his gut.
📦 sunday 📦
On Sunday afternoon, Hongjoong paces his room. His bed is a mess with a pile of new clothes Wooyoung bought for him yesterday and his dresser has a handful of new accessories littered on top. He practiced some more pick up lines and general flirting to his reflection in the mirror, but hasn’t seen Seonghwa or received a package for 1117A since Friday, which is unusual since he’s been getting Seonghwa’s packages every other day.
He ventures out of his room and heads to the front door to stare at the golden framed note of Seonghwa’s phone number on the console table. Since he doesn’t have a package to bring over, maybe he could finally text Seonghwa…
Flirting is easier over text, right?
Hongjoong takes out his phone and drafts a new message after punching in Seonghwa’s phone number. He reminds himself of Wooyoung’s advice: be confident and assertive. Cut to the chase.
He types out a message and hits send before he overthinks his approach:
Kim Hongjoong (1117B) [01:13p]
hey seonghwa, this is hongjoong
what up
Hongjoong grimaces at the words. He types an asterisk to correct himself.
Kim Hongjoong (1117B) [01:13p]
*what are you up to today?
He waits for a few minutes but there’s no response. The brunette figures it’s pointless to wait for Seonghwa’s reply if the teacher is out or in the middle of something.
Hongjoong heads back to his room and pulls up his other messages. There’s one from Kyungmun sending him a link to some headphones since KQ is purchasing new ones for all the producers, asking him to pick one. Hongjoong taps on the link and orders on his phone browser when it pings with a notification at the top of the screen.
Park Seonghwa (1117A) [01:21p]
Hi, Hongjoong.
I’m at the grocery store. Today is an errand day.
Hongjoong perks up at this. Instead of typing out a reply, the producer shucks off his squirrel pajamas and rummages through the pile of new clothes on his bed for something to wear. He tries not to sigh at every piece of clothing as a majority of what Wooyoung bought was absurdly tight tops, strategically cut pants, revealing outer layers, and way too much faux leather.
He finally finds a tasteful, silk button up shirt that’s snug on his body and tucks it into a pair of dark jeans that flare out at the bottom. He’d rather not flash anyone at the grocery store but leaves the top three buttons of the shirt undone.
He shoves his contacts into his eyes and when he flies out of his room towards the front door, he nearly mows Jongho over, who has just arrived back from breakfast with his friends.
“Whoa,” Jongho whistles at his outfit. “Are you going on a date? With Seonghwa hyung?”
“No, I’m on my way to conveniently bump into him at the grocery store.”
Jongho’s mirthful expression morphs into disdain. “What? What does that even mean? Were you invited to go to the grocery store with him?”
Hongjoong walks past his younger roommate to the coat closet. “No…”
“If Seonghwa hyung didn’t invite you, did he ask you to meet him there after he was finished?”
“No…”
“Did you tell him you were going over there to ‘bump into him’?”
“No…”
Jongho watches in exasperation as Hongjoong pulls out the leather jacket and slips on his sneakers. The younger man sighs, “do you need groceries?”
“No.” Hongjoong ties his laces and gives Jongho a pleading look. “Oh! Can you grab the sunglasses on top of my dresser?”
“No,” Jongho shoots back and rolls his eyes at Hongjoong’s surprised face. “Hyung, I say this with my utmost love…” Jongho inhales deeply and then fixes a stern look on Hongjoong and the producer momentarily forgets that he’s the older one. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Going to the grocery store, I just said that,” Hongjoong answers like it’s obvious and yanks open the front door. “Alright, well… If you’re not gonna grab the sunglasses then I’ll just go without it.”
Jongho catches the door before Hongjoong can close it and slips on his own shoes that he had taken off not even five minutes ago. “Fine, but I’m coming with you. I have to see this.”
Hongjoong doesn’t protest. On Friday he wanted that pep talk but neither of his roommates were home, so maybe having Jongho within the vicinity will actually ease his nerves.
The local grocery store is a little bit further east of Lemon Drop and it’s not too cold today; the winds are at a minimum and the afternoon sun warms Hongjoong’s cheeks, though it’s not enough to completely melt the stubborn snow on the sidewalk.
When they enter the grocery store, they stomp their feet on the mat by the entrance to get rid of any excess snow. Jongho stops Hongjoong before the brunette can venture off into the store, “you should wipe your feet more. I know your sneakers’ grip is worn on the bottom, so you’re gonna slip.”
“It’s fine,” Hongjoong dismisses and he and Jongho start in the produce section.
“How do you even know he’s here?” Jongho murmurs.
“I texted him.”
Jongho’s neck cracks with how fast he turns his head to the older man. “What? You finally texted him and you didn’t ask him out on a date? You decided to stalk him instead?”
“This is not stalking,” Hongjoong denies and he and Jongho start to casually walk up and down an aisle, eyes searching for their divine, 5'10 neighbour. “And you and Wooyoung were the ones who said I had to do it in person! And that asking outside was lame.”
“Yes, asking outside of his house on his porch is lame. Asking over text is fine, something simple like ‘hey do you wanna grab a drink together?’ would’ve sufficed.”
Hongjoong and Jongho continue to shuffle around the grocery store as the producer tries to seek out Seonghwa.
When Hongjoong spots Seonghwa in the canned and preserved goods aisle, he swiftly pulls Jongho into the next aisle of baking supplies and ingredients. “Shit, he’s here.”
“And this isn’t stalking?” Jongho deadpans and gives Hongjoong’s flushed cheeks and rigid posture a pointed look. “Thank God you didn’t wear the sunglasses or you would’ve looked like a creep, too.”
“A creep?” Hongjoong yelps and runs his palms over the front of his button up where the leather jacket is unzipped. “Would creeps wear silk?”
“Almost exclusively,” Jongho snarks.
Hongjoong crosses his arms over his chest and frowns at the younger man. “Alright, stop making fun of me and help me.”
Jongho turns to the shelves of chocolate chips, raisins, and crushed walnuts beside him. “Hey, Raisins, don’t you think it would be better if my hyung turned around, went home, and texted his crush instead of ogling him in a grocery store?”
Hongjoong scoffs at his roommate when Jongho pauses, as if the raisins would actually respond.
“Hm, I agree.” Jongho turns his attention back to Hongjoong, “they said you’re a fucking idiot.”
“Yeah? Well your stupid raisins are just dried rejects with an absurdly high caloric intake, a laughable abundance of sugar, and a ridiculous drying process in which I cannot justify its production. Just eat regular grapes for God’s sake, and seedless is the only correct one to buy.”
Jongho blinks at the brunette and tilts his body towards the packaging of dried fruits protectively. “Damn, what do you have against raisins?”
Hongjoong reaches out to grip Jongho’s shoulders urgently and begs, “Jongho-yah, I am trying to ask out the most beautifully handsome man to grace the planet Earth and I need you to help me, not defend the worst dried fruit known to man!”
The younger man stares at the producer’s troubled expression. Then he sighs and caves in, but before he can answer Hongjoong, another voice interrupts their yelling in the baking aisle.
“Hongjoong-ah? Jongho-yah?”
Of course it’s Seonghwa.
Their ethereal neighbour stands at the end of the aisle having spotted them when he left the canned and preserved goods aisle, a full basket of groceries hanging off of his left arm.
The raven haired man’s eyes flit between Hongjoong and Jongho, the two roommates from 1117B awkwardly positioned by the asinine raisins.
“Um, I heard shouting…” Seonghwa explains. He regards Hongjoong with a polite smile, though it looks slightly pained because his eyebrows are furrowed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you’re trying to ask someone out, Hongjoong-ah? Is it the person you met with on Friday?”
“Who?” Both Hongjoong and Jongho say.
Seonghwa, again, glances between the two roommates. “Remember when you brought my lamp over? You mentioned you were meeting up with someone…”
“Why would you say that?” Jongho hisses at Hongjoong, low enough so that only the brunette can hear. “King of misunderstandings! Shame on you!”
Hongjoong grumbles back, “I didn’t want him to think I was a lonely loser on a Friday night or something!”
“And how is that working out for you?”
“Sorry, am I bothering you guys?” Seonghwa asks hesitantly when the roommates continue to whisper to each other instead of answering him.
“Not at all! Sorry about that, hyung,” Jongho says brightly and steps away from Hongjoong towards their neighbour to guide Seonghwa into the aisle. “Actually, I need to go… Look at… Something… Something at home. You stay here with Hongjoong hyung, and he can help you shop and carry this for you.” He gently removes Seonghwa’s shopping basket from his forearm and walks over to Hongjoong to give it to him instead.
Hongjoong’s eyes go round with panic and he clutches Jongho’s hand when the younger man tries to hand off Seonghwa’s full basket. “Don’t leave! I need help!”
“No you don’t, just be yourself!”
“That is not good advice, I’m fucking wearing silk like a creep, Jongho—”
“Hyung, you got this, you can do this, I believe in you!”
“Jongho, I need a better pep talk—"
Jongho gestures to the many baking ingredients surrounding them and lowers the basket to the floor in front of Hongjoong. He grabs the older man’s hand and yanks him down to place his hand on the handle of the basket. “Dating is like baking cookies!” And with that the man dashes out of the aisle with a quick ‘bye, hyung!’ to Seonghwa in passing.
Hongjoong, slumped over from being forced to hold Seonghwa’s basket like it’s anchoring him to the situation at hand, yells after the younger man, “we both agreed that analogy fucking sucks! That was a horrible pep talk!”
“Pep talk?” Seonghwa muses now that it’s just them standing in front of the horrid raisins with Hongjoong hunched over the basket on the floor like a gremlin. “Do you need advice on how to ask out ‘the most beautifully handsome man to grace the planet Earth’?” He says this begrudgingly.
“You heard that?” The brunette rubs the back of his neck sheepishly but he doesn’t deny it because… He’s curious as to what Seonghwa’s advice would be. If Seonghwa gave him dating advice, wouldn’t he reveal how he would want to be asked out? It makes sense in Hongjoong’s mind so he straightens up from the basket and inquires, “what would you do, Seonghwa-yah?”
Seonghwa’s gaze briefly drops to Hongjoong’s exposed collarbones where the buttons of his silk shirt are undone. The raven haired man’s eyes travel to the leather jacket and then up to the producer’s face. If Hongjoong were wearing glasses, he would probably push them up out of nervousness at being scrutinized.
Then Seonghwa looks down at Hongjoong’s sneakers, worn and wet with melted snow, the only thing Hongjoong hasn’t drastically changed about his appearance. The teacher’s plush lips quirk up into a smile, but it’s gone in a flash and is replaced with a pout when he lifts his gaze back up to the leather jacket.
Hongjoong is thoroughly confused by Seonghwa’s reaction, like he had been on Friday, as Wooyoung had assured him that the raven haired man would be swooning over his new wardrobe.
Instead, Seonghwa looks like he finds it somewhat repulsive.
“Well,” Seonghwa begins and Hongjoong almost forgot his initial question. “Preparation matters… So I’d probably start by finding every excuse to talk to my crush…”
“Interesting,” Hongjoong hums. “Like what?”
Seonghwa’s cheeks flush pink and he doesn’t meet Hongjoong’s eye when he answers, “something like… Bringing over their mail.”
“Huh…” Hongjoong doesn’t fully understand, because why would Seonghwa have his crush’s mail, but he doesn’t want to interrupt him or say anything foolish so he lets Seonghwa continue.
“Then I’d probably heavily hint at spending time together…” Seonghwa’s eyelashes flutter prettily as he shyly glances at Hongjoong. “Like cooking together…”
“Hmm.”
“And then I’d give them my phone number,” Seonghwa concludes as he fiddles with his own fingers, hands folding over each other as he avoids eye contact with Hongjoong. “And hope that they ask me out or something. The ball’s in their court now... It’s easy over text.”
“Fuck,” Hongjoong involuntarily curses since Jongho had said the same thing not even twenty minutes ago. Now he’s second guessing this whole plan; he debates if he should run home and start crafting a text to Seonghwa now that he’s already messaged him. But if he’s already here, asking someone out in person is more meaningful, right?
Hongjoong lets out a huff of annoyance at his own inner battle of thoughts.
“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa’s voice brings Hongjoong out of his mental jumble. “Are you alright?”
“Yes!” Hongjoong yelps and, amid his overloaded brain, tries to smile charmingly at Seonghwa.
Instead, his neighbour looks alarmed and asks again, “are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to go home… Or to the bathroom…?”
Oh God.
Hongjoong doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making but it must be awful. The producer looks down at Seonghwa’s full shopping basket on the ground in an attempt to regain his composure and huffs out a nervous laugh, “I’m fine, Seonghwa-yah. Why don’t I help you finish your groceries—”
“Careful, it’s heavy—”
Right as Seonghwa says ‘heavy’, Hongjoong tries to impress him by lifting the basket; he adjusts his grip on the handle, uses only one hand, and straightens up in one swift motion.
When Jongho had taken the basket off of Seonghwa’s arm, he made it look so effortless despite the contents threatening to topple over the sides. But Jongho had used both of his hands.
When Hongjoong attempts to yank the basket up with one hand, his first mistake, it’s too heavy and the weight has him keeling forward. Which wouldn’t be too bad…
Except Jongho had warned Hongjoong about wiping his wet sneakers on the mats at the entrance of the store properly, had warned him about the worn soles and lack of grip, and Hongjoong didn’t listen.
The combination of the heavy weight of the basket and his slippery shoes has Hongjoong sliding forwards and faceplanting right into the shelf of the dried abominations that are raisins.
His head connects with the metal shelving with a ‘thunk!’. It hits so hard that Hongjoong’s eyes water with unshed tears and a few packages of raisins rain down on him, with one hitting him in the eye.
It feels like a personal attack. He always knew raisins were evil, he didn’t know they’d go out of their way to prevent him from finding love.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Seonghwa says in a panic and rushes to catch some of the falling dried fruits with one hand and the other comes up to Hongjoong’s chest to push him away from the onslaught of packaging.
Pain blooms in between Hongjoong’s eyes and he screws them shut in an attempt to will away the throbbing sore spot.
Jongho was right: this whole encounter was a mistake. Hongjoong should’ve just stayed home and crafted a text message to Seonghwa and now he’s embarrassed himself.
“Fuck, I—” Hongjoong wipes his eyes with the sleeves of the leather jacket and shouts at a volume that is much too loud for the baking aisle of the grocery store, “I fucking hate raisins! Foul, vile, shrivelled bastards…”
There’s a pause of silence as the packages of said shrivelled bastards stop falling as Seonghwa’s caught most of them, and then high pitched laughter pierces the air.
It’s sweet and makes Hongjoong’s heart flutter, different from Seonghwa’s usual giggles and chuckles. Seonghwa laughs so hard he starts snorting in between. When Hongjoong’s blurred vision is cleared of the tears of pain, he sees his gorgeous neighbour doubled over as he lets out the last few bouts of laughter.
“O-O-Oh my G-God, I’m s-sorry,” Seonghwa hiccups as his laughter subsides. “I’m just… Your hatred for raisins is so… Intense.” The raven haired man picks up the remaining packages off the floor to shove them back onto the shelf. “For what it’s worth, I’m also not a fan of them. I’d rather eat grapes. Seedless, of course.”
Hongjoong thinks he sees a halo around Seonghwa’s head and flowers blossoming around his body, the epitome of perfection. Or, he might be slightly concussed. “Me too!”
Seonghwa gives him a bashful, cute smile, and struts up to Hongjoong. He lifts a hand to brush the producer’s brown bangs to the side to inspect his forehead. “Ouch, that might leave a bruise, but at least you didn’t break the skin. You should put ice on it right away so it doesn’t swell.”
“Maybe I’ll go faceplant into the snow,” Hongjoong jokes, face flushed at Seonghwa’s light touch. Seonghwa is still smiling cutely at him, which the brunette counts as a win since the teacher’s recent body language towards him has been… Off. “I’ll go do that now.”
Seonghwa nods and uses both of his hands to haul his basket up, which he rests on his elbow. “Feel better, Hongjoong-ah.” And then, with reluctance, the taller man mumbles, “and good luck with your man.”
It’s Hongjoong’s turn to nod, head throbbing, and he gives Seonghwa a small wave before he’s shuffling out of the grocery store.
📦 tuesday: mini lego set (the truth) 📦
Hongjoong doesn’t text Seonghwa immediately to ask him out as he wanted to give himself time to recover from the embarrassing situation that unfolded in the grocery store… He also needed time for the giant bruise in the center of his forehead to heal a little bit before he went on any date with Seonghwa.
He still blames the raisins.
But Hongjoong, along with Wooyoung and Jongho, couldn’t help but notice that no package has been misdelivered to 1117B since the last Friday with the lamp. He wonders if the mail office finally figured out the difference between 1117A and 1117B, and while he’s happy that Seonghwa will be getting his packages directly, he can’t help but feel disappointed that there’s no excuse to go over to his lovely neighbour’s unit.
It’s a Tuesday evening when Hongjoong gets home from work to find a delivery notice plastered onto his front door: It’s from the mail office, detailing that they attempted to deliver the headphones he ordered on Sunday. Since no one was home and they needed a signature for the delivery, the package was left at the local mail office near Lemon Drop and Hongjoong would be able to pick it up there instead.
The producer rips the notice off his door and descends the steps of his porch to head over to the mail office since he’s already out.
On the way, he tries to think of ways to text Seonghwa, the teacher’s phone number now the only link of communication that Hongjoong can utilize.
He should just cut to the chase like Wooyoung and Jongho suggested and ask Seonghwa out to dinner. Hongjoong thinks of Golden Hour, the new restaurant that opened up on the block, and figures he’ll craft his message after he picks up his package.
When he enters the mail office for the first time, a quaint location meant for local deliveries and small pick ups, he spots a familiar figure with beige earmuffs chatting to the mail clerk.
“Hello, how can I help you?” The clerk greets Hongjoong, bending sideways at the waist to look at the brunette from around Seonghwa. He’s a tall and attractive man with dyed, ash blonde hair.
Seonghwa whirls around to look at him and Hongjoong sees his neighbour clutching a package that’s currently resting on the counter. When he and Seonghwa make eye contact, the raven haired man looks alarmed and he quickly turns back around to mutter something to the clerk.
The clerk’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline at what Seonghwa whispered to him as Hongjoong cautiously approaches them.
“Er, hello,” Hongjoong says to the clerk as Seonghwa shuffles to the side of the counter. He can’t believe the coincidence that the raven haired man is here too, after Hongjoong was just thinking about how to message him later. “Sorry, Seonghwa-yah, I can wait until you’re done, I’m not in a rush…”
“I’m done,” the schoolteacher concludes and gestures for Hongjoong to step up to the counter.
The producer misses the look Seonghwa gives the mail clerk before the ash blonde speaks to Hongjoong.
“So you’re Kim Hongjoong,” the clerk whistles.
Hongjoong is taken aback but courteously nods, “yes, that’s me. I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“No!” The clerk sings cheerily, like it’s not weird at all that he knows Hongjoong’s name but Hongjoong doesn’t know his. “I’m Yunho, and it is absolutely fantastic to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you—”
Seonghwa smacks a hand down on the counter abruptly. Both Hongjoong and the mail clerk startle at the loud sound, though Yunho has a huge, mischievous grin on his face.
Seonghwa’s eyes are wide with panic, his cheeks are dusted a dark, cherry red colour, and he’s glaring daggers at the mail clerk.
Yunho laughs boisterously and, unbothered by Seonghwa’s glare and counter slapping, continues anyway. “Hongjoong-ssi, Seonghwa hyung said you were a little dense, but there’s no way you’re that dense—”
“Yunho-yah,” Seonghwa cuts him off in warning.
Yunho doesn’t hear him, or pretends not to hear him, as he rambles, “I mean, did you even look at the mailing labels on his misdelivered packages—”
Seonghwa whips his package at Yunho and the mail clerk dodges the attack of the cardboard at the last millisecond, arching back to avoid the box. It hits the wall behind him and the ash blonde man gives Seonghwa a bewildered look.
“Yunho-yah—” Seonghwa hisses, but the mail clerk gasps scandalously.
“You just tried to kill me!”
“It’s a light lego set, it wouldn’t have hurt you… Badly.”
“Your intention was to kill me,” Yunho pouts dramatically anyway and then shifts his attention to Hongjoong. All of a sudden, the mail clerk leans forward to the producer and a rapid flurry of words tumble out of his mouth: “did you know that Seonghwa hyung has a big, fat crush on you and has been ordering useless shit he has already and sends you the packages on purpose in hopes that you’ll ask him out and he tells me about how hot you are and how badly he wants to bounce on your dick—”
“Yunho!” Seonghwa squeals, slams both of hands on the counter, and swings his right leg onto the counter in preparation to launch himself over it. “I’ll really kill you now!”
Yunho lets out an uncharacteristically high pitched scream that Hongjoong wouldn’t have expected to come out of him as Seonghwa venomously reaches for the mail clerk.
Hongjoong intervenes and winds an arm around Seonghwa’s waist before the teacher can fully vault over the counter.
“Whoa!” Hongjoong shouts and hauls Seonghwa backwards. He pulls the raven haired man’s back to his chest and keeps his arm wrapped around Seonghwa’s midriff until the man stops flailing his limbs at the mail clerk.
When Yunho sees that Seonghwa is fixed in Hongjoong’s hold, he flaps a dismissive hand at the teacher like the older man wasn’t just threatening him with murder two seconds ago. “No biting! Well, not the unsexy kind, anyway. And not in front of your neighbour lover—”
“Yunho-yah—!” Seonghwa growls and lunges forwards again but Hongjoong tightens his hold around the taller man’s waist, effectively securing him to his chest. At this, Seonghwa lets out a soft whimper.
Hongjoong feels his heartburn come back at full force at the sound and he knows he’s flushed from his ears down to his neck. His hold doesn’t loosen though, and he gives Yunho a polite wave.
“Alright, we’re gonna go before any blood is spilled,” Hongjoong says apprehensively and begins to shuffle Seonghwa towards the exit. “It was nice to meet you, Yunho-ssi… I think.”
“But your packages!” Yunho calls after them but the two men are already out the door.
Seonghwa pulls away from Hongjoong enough so that they’re standing shoulder to shoulder outside of the mail office but the producer doesn’t retract his arm from around the teacher’s waist.
They both stare blankly ahead at the sidewalk as people stroll past them, the evening settling in and the February cold chilling their heated cheeks.
“Um,” Hongjoong says first, still staring straight ahead.
“Hm,” Seonghwa responds, also staring straight ahead.
A few more beats of silence follow, and then Seonghwa turns in Hongjoong’s half hold to face him.
“Hongjoong-ah, I’m sorry for calling you dense,” Seonghwa starts, cheeks still pink as he looks down at the sidewalk. “That wasn’t very nice of me.”
“Uh,” Hongjoong chuckles nervously. “You don’t have to be sorry about anything, Seonghwa-yah… You— er, you, uh… You like me?” The brunette asks sheepishly, like he can’t believe it himself, and even points his index finger to his chest as if clarifying for Seonghwa that this is who he’s crushing on.
“Yeah,” Seonghwa admits easily and his eyelashes flutter charmingly when he lifts his doe-like gaze to meet Hongjoong’s eye. He’s so pretty and Hongjoong’s attention briefly drops to his pink lips. “I thought you’d notice the packages because the address on the labels clearly stated 1117B even though it was addressed to me. And I was ordering things I already have just so that you’d have to bring it over.”
“Really? Me? You did that for me?”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “Hongjoong-ah, I have a million kitchen utensils, eight staplers, six clothes drying racks, and twenty-one lamps. Sannie is not happy that he has five lamps in his room.”
Hongjoong laughs and Seonghwa can’t help but chuckle too.
When their laughter dies down, Hongjoong grasps at Seonghwa’s coat anxiously.
“I, uh, I asked Wooyoung and Jongho for dating advice. To ask you out,” Hongjoong confesses. “I like you too, Seonghwa-yah, and I was tired of word-vomitting and saying stupid shit around you that I asked for help.”
Seonghwa blinks at him, “you like me? You’re not dating someone else?” Seonghwa quotes what Hongjoong said at the grocery store, “the most beautifully handsome man to grace the planet Earth?”
Hongjoong laughs again after hearing how absurd that sounds, but when he sees that Seonghwa is serious, he swallows thickly. “Uh, I was referring to you, Seonghwa-yah. Why would you think it was someone else? Have you met me?”
“Remember last Saturday, when you told me you were single… As a Pringle?”
Hongjoong’s reply is immediate, “you know that saying doesn’t really make sense, because—”
“There’s seventy chips in a can, you’re so cute, it’s just a rhyme on English words, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa finishes for him and Hongjoong blushes as the taller man continues. “Well, when you said that, you were wearing squirrel pajamas and telling me lame jokes. You also said that I’d know if you were dating someone, because you wouldn’t be doing that. And then you showed up on my doorstep on Friday with a leather jacket and said you were meeting up with someone, what else was I supposed to think?”
Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks back to Seonghwa’s reaction to his (Wooyoung’s) new look. The disdain starts to make sense; Seonghwa liked him and thought his new wardrobe and confidence was him seeing someone else. “Oh. That was all part of the advice Wooyoung gave me. He said dating is like baking cookies.”
Seonghwa’s beautiful face now scrunches cutely in thought. “Huh? How does that correlate? Surely there are better analogies.”
Hongjoong sighs dreamily as he looks at Seonghwa, “you get me.” Then the brunette shakes his head and declares again, “Seonghwa-yah. I like you… A lot. You’re kindhearted and patient. Your hard work and passion for your career is truly admirable. I think you’re really cute, pretty, beautifully handsome, and sexy… Sexier than fried rice!” The producer instantly grimaces, “can we forget I said that last part—”
Seonghwa grabs the front of Hongjoong’s jacket and pulls him into a kiss. It’s aggressive and heated; Seonghwa’s other hand cups the back of Hongjoong’s head to fist in his hair and Hongjoong’s arm tightens around Seonghwa’s waist to clutch the fabric on the back of the teacher’s coat. Seonghwa practically has Hongjoong pinned to the door of the mail office as the brunette parts his mouth in shock.
The raven haired man takes it as an invitation and licks into Hongjoong’s mouth. When their tongues meet, Hongjoong feels a jolt of electricity shoot down his spine and, giving into the cliche, a thousand butterflies let loose in his stomach. Seonghwa’s lips are warm, his tongue is hot, and Hongjoong is already addicted to the way he tastes.
They’re interrupted by someone banging the door Hongjoong is pressed up against.
They pull apart and crane their heads to find Yunho frowning at them in disapproval from inside the mail office.
“You both live less than seven minutes away,” Yunho’s voice is muffled from behind the door as he scolds them. “Go home and make out, or at least invite me to participate!”
Seonghwa sticks his tongue out at the mail clerk and, one hand still gripping the front of Hongjoong’s jacket, tugs the brunette in the direction of their houses. The teacher lowers his hand from Hongjoong’s jacket to intertwine their fingers, hurriedly leading the way back.
Like usual, Hongjoong nearly slips on a few patches of ice and can only give Seonghwa an embarrassed, lopsided smile in apology. It only makes Seonghwa walk faster, practically dragging Hongjoong the rest of the way.
“Your place or mine? I think Sannie and Mingi-yah are home,” Seonghwa ponders. “Are Wooyoung-ah and Jongho-yah home?”
Hongjoong tries to keep up with Seonghwa’s steps while trying not to wipe out. “Wooyoung is still at the dance studio and Jongho has been having late nights—”
“Yours then.”
“Why do we need an empty house? Are we gonna hook up?” Hongjoong chuckles jestfully. It dies in his throat when they ascend the steps to 1117B and Seonghwa stares at him impatiently to punch in the code to open the door. “S-Seonghwa-yah, you want to have sex… With me?”
Seonghwa doesn’t laugh at the ridiculousness of Hongjoong’s question and instead gives the shorter man a slow once-over. It feels like he has X-Ray vision with the way his eyes rake up and down the length of Hongjoong’s body. “Yes,” he says simply.
Hongjoong blurts, “are you sure?”
Seonghwa’s hungry gaze darkens, “oh my God, why do you still have pants on—”
Before Seonghwa can ravish him on his porch (in semi-public), Hongjoong spins around to punch in the passcode on his door lock and, after inputting the wrong code four times, they finally stumble through the door.
📦 bonus: tent 📦
Jung Wooyoung (1117B) [20:31p]
hey san-ah, hey mingi-yah
can Jongho and I come over to ur place for a bit
Choi Jongho (1117B) [20:31p]
PLEASE
THEY ARE SO LOUD
FOR WHAT
FOR WHY
FOR HOW LONG
Hongjoong hyung’s dick can't be THAT good
Choi San (1117A) [20:32p]
L O L
You guys don’t know how in love Hwa hyung is with your hyung??
Happy for them though
Anyways, you guys are gonna need to stay for the night
Possibly tomorrow night too
Song Mingi (1117A) [20:32p]
just bring enough stuff for the rest of the week
u might have to stay that long lol
i recently bought a tent!
it arrived today
i’ll set it up
Choi Jongho (1117B) [20:32p]
A tent?
It’s February
Jung Wooyoung (1117B) [20:33p]
oh my GOD
INDOOR CAMPING SLEEPOVER
WE’RE ON OUR WAY
WOOHOO
Choi San (1117A) [20:33p]
Woohoo!
Oh! By the way
Do you guys need a lamp??
I have 5
Choi Jongho (1117B) [20:33p]
……………..
Why do you have FIVE lamps
Song Mingi (1117A) [20:33p]
i have 7 in my room
u guys need a whisk?!
we have 12 of em
Choi Jongho (1117B) [20:33p]
What the fuck
Jung Wooyoung (1117B) [20:33p]
wtf
Choi San (1117A) [20:34p]
L O L…
Song Mingi (1117A) [20:34p]
we’ll tell u guys when u get here lol