Archive of Our Own

Anton.

“Show me how you do that trick, the one that makes me scream she said…”

The upbeat guitar intro to The Cure's Just Like Heaven filled my headphones as I rested flat on my back on my dorm room rug, staring at the ceiling fan spinning in slow circles.

It was 5:30 PM. I had exactly an hour and a half before I needed to be at the record store to pick up Park Wonbin.

The playlist he had sent me was perfect. He alternated between 80s alternative, 90s shoegaze, and indie rock. It had The Smiths, Mazzy Star, The Cure, and some bands I hadn't heard of since I lived in the US. I felt like every lyric was a piece of his personality.

I closed my eyes, letting Robert Smith's voice wash over me.

This was bad. This was awful. This was a catastrophe.

I rolled onto my side, pulling my headphones off and tossing them onto the bed. I needed to focus. I was supposed to be a guy with a crush on a beautiful, shy girl. I dragged myself off the floor and sat down at my MIDI keyboard in the corner of the room.

"Okay," I muttered to myself, stretching my fingers. "A song for Wonbi. Think about Wonbi."

I closed my eyes and tried to picture her. The pastel lilac sweater, the black mask, the star clips in her hair. The way she nervously hid her hands inside her sleeves. I played a soft major seventh chord. It sounded sweet. Innocent.

But then, my brain betrayed me.

The image of the lilac sweater morphed into a thick, giant gray hoodie being pulled over a head. The pastel colors vanished, replaced by a faded black band t-shirt that perfectly hugged a narrow waist and sharp shoulders. I didn't see a mask, I saw plush lips frowning in concentration. I didn't see star clips, I saw messy hair being pushed back to reveal a pair of sharp, beautiful collarbones glistening with a thin layer of sweat in the heat of Practice Room 4B.

My fingers slipped on the keyboard, hitting a harsh, dissonant cluster of notes.

"Shit!" I groaned, letting my head drop forward until my forehead hit the plastic edge of the keyboard.

I was a monster. A horrible, disgusting excuse for a human being. I was hopelessly in love with a girl I had barely spoken to, and yet, I couldn't stop thinking about her twin brother. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could hear was Wonbin's textured voice singing Arctic Monkeys. All I could feel was the phantom sensation of his wrist under my hand when I pulled him away from Sungchan earlier today.

Sungchan.

Just thinking about the way that giant idiot had his arm wrapped around Wonbin's shoulders made my blood boil all over again.

The sound of my dorm room door flying open made me jump out of my skin.

"So," Sungchan's booming voice announced as he walked in, followed closely by Sohee. "The feral guard dog is finally back in his cage."

I sighed heavily, not even lifting my head from the keyboard. "Please go away. I'm having a crisis."

"Oh, you're having a crisis?" Sungchan laughed, throwing himself onto my bed and crushing my pillows. "I'm the one who almost got my arm bitten off in the middle of the courtyard! Are you going to explain what the hell your problem was?"

"I didn't bite you," I muttered, finally sitting up straight and spinning the chair to face them. "You were making him uncomfortable. Wonbin has social anxiety. He doesn't like being touched, especially not by someone the size of a refrigerator."

Sohee, who was leaning against my desk, raised an eyebrow. "He looked fine to me, Ton. He looked like he was just hanging out. You're the one who looked like a jealous boyfriend."

"I'm not his boyfriend!" I snapped back, my voice cracking a little. "I'm going out with his sister! I was just... protecting my future brother-in-law. It's a matter of respect."

Sungchan snorted loudly, sitting up on the bed. "Respect? Bro, you grabbed his wrist and dragged him away like he was a princess in distress. Since when do you care so much about 'protecting' a guy you officially met like, a week ago?"

"He's fragile!" I argued defensively, gesturing with my hands. "You don't know him like I do. He hides in those huge hoodies because he's shy. And his voice is so quiet, and he does this cute thing where he pulls his sleeves over his hands when he gets nervous, and..."

I stopped talking. My two best friends were staring at me in dead silence.

Sohee blinked slowly. "Did you just say he does a cute thing?"

My face caught fire instantly. "I meant... endearing! In a bro way!"

"Anton," Sungchan said slowly, dropping the teasing tone and looking at me with genuine concern. "Are you sure you want to date the sister?"

"Yes!" I practically yelled, standing up from the chair. "Of course I do! She's the girl from the record store! I've been talking about her for weeks!"

"Okay, but think about this," Sohee said, crossing his arms. "You didn't even know her name without asking him. You don't have her number. You spent the whole week buying coffees and pastries that he ate. And when Sungchan touched him today, you stared at Wonbin's lips like you wanted to kiss him before dragging the guy away."

"I did not stare at his lips!" I lied, my heart beating faster.

"You kind of did, man," Sungchan agreed softly. "It was intense. Look... it's fine if you're confused. You lived in the US, you know it's okay if you... you know. Like guys, too."

"I'm not confused!" I paced back and forth in the small room, pulling my own hair. "I like women! I like Wonbi! She's sweet and likes Sanrio and strawberry tarts!"

"Anton," Sohee sighed, looking at me like I was a lost cause. "You're describing a Hello Kitty plushie, not a person. When you talk about Wonbin, you talk about the music he listens to, his anxiety, his voice, his appearance. You're obsessed with the guy."

"I am not!"

"Then where are you going tonight dressed up like that?" Sungchan pointed at my outfit.

I looked down at myself. I had spent forty-five minutes picking out a vintage dark red flannel shirt that made my shoulders look broader, styling my hair so it fell perfectly messy, and putting on my favorite cedarwood cologne.

"I'm taking Wonbin to dinner," I whispered, the terrifying reality finally crashing down on me. "As a... as a thank you. For being my wingman."

Sohee and Sungchan exchanged a long, meaningful look.

"Right," Sohee said sarcastically, patting my shoulder as he walked toward the door. "Have fun on your totally platonic bro-date with your future brother-in-law, Anton. Try not to stare at his lips again."

They left, closing the door behind them.

I stood alone in the middle of the room, with The Cure still playing faintly from my abandoned headphones on the bed. My stomach was doing violent flips. I was terrified. I was guilty. And, God help me, I was so excited to see him.

I arrived in front of his uncle's record store at exactly 6:55 PM. The sun had already set, and the downtown streetlights were beginning to turn on, casting an orange glow over the street.

Stopped a few meters away, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans. Through the glass storefront, I saw Wonbin finishing up at the register.

He was wearing baggy black cargo pants and an absurdly large dark blue hoodie with the hood down. His hair was half-tied up, with a few rebellious strands falling in front of his eyes as he focused on counting the bills. He looked tired, but in a soft way. The yellowish light of the store reflected on his face, and I found myself holding my breath.

It's just a bro dinner, I repeated to myself like a desperate mantra. You're going to buy him a burger because he's a cool guy and he's going to introduce you to his sister. That's it.

Wonbin turned off the main store lights, grabbed his heavy backpack, which had the Hello Kitty keychain dangling from the zipper, and stepped out, locking the glass door with an old key.

When he turned around and saw me standing there, he jumped slightly in surprise.

"Anton!" he gasped, placing a hand over his chest. The hoodie sleeves swallowed his hands almost immediately. "How long have you been standing there? You looked like a ghost..."

"Just got here," I smiled, trying to ignore the fact that my heart was beating like the bass drum of a rock drum kit. "Everything good with closing up?"

"Uh-huh. My uncle texted saying the count was right." He pulled on his backpack strap, suddenly looking very self-conscious. He looked at my flannel shirt, then down at his own wrinkled hoodie. "I should've brought a change of clothes. I look like a college rat and you look like..."

He stopped talking, biting his lower lip hard.

"Look like what?" I asked, taking a step closer.

"Someone who doesn't eat at grimy downtown diners," he muttered, averting his gaze to the ground, the tips of his ears turning red.

God. He was so beautiful. How was it possible for someone to be so beautiful while complaining about cargo pants?

"Well, the grimy downtown diner I picked has the best craft burgers in the city, and they play classic rock vinyls the whole time," I said, gesturing with my head toward the end of the street. "Come on. It's a couple of blocks from here. And I like your hoodie. It looks... comfortable."

As we walked down the narrow sidewalk, Wonbin's arm brushed against mine, making my hand scream to place itself on his waist, to pull him closer.

The place was called Landslide. It was dark, illuminated by red neon signs and industrial light fixtures. The walls were lined with band posters from the 70s and 80s, and the ambient sound was dominated by the raspy voice of the lead singer of The Clash.

We managed to snag a red leather booth in the back of the restaurant. Wonbin slid into the seat, taking off his backpack and looking a little more relaxed in the dim lighting.

"Wow!" he said, looking around with bright eyes. "This place is amazing. How did you find it?"

"Sungchan found it last week and..." I stopped, clearing my throat as I remembered our fight from earlier. "Well, I thought you'd like the vibe."

A waiter brought the menus. I already knew what I was going to order, so I used the opportunity to just observe Wonbin. He read the options with an almost adorable concentration, his brow slightly furrowed, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Sohee's warning ("You stared at his lips like you wanted to kiss him") echoed in my mind, and I quickly averted my gaze to the paper napkin.

"I think I'll have the classic burger with cheddar and jalapeños," Wonbin announced, closing the menu. "And fries, obviously."

"Great choice. I'll have the same." We placed our orders, and suddenly, it was just the two of us and the loud music.

I should ask about Wonbi. This was the perfect moment. I had planned at least three neutral questions about his "sister's" hobbies. But, looking at Wonbin absentmindedly playing with the paper edge of the coaster, the last thing I wanted was to bring a third person to our table.

"So..." I started, leaning forward. "How did you end up at K-Arts? Your dad wanted you to major in industrial production, right?"

"Yeah. He still thinks music is just an 'expensive hobby'. It was a war convincing him to let me take the audition. I only managed it because my uncle, the store owner, fought with my dad and said he'd pay for my supplies if I got in."

"Your uncle has good taste. And a good ear, apparently," I said, smiling. "You're really talented, Wonbin. That Arctic Monkeys cover... I meant it. Your tone is unique."

He shrank back, his face blushing furiously under the red neon light. There were his hands disappearing inside his sleeves again.

"Stop it," he muttered, looking at the table. "You're the prodigy who writes entire sheet music from memory. I just sing in the shower and strum a guitar."

"I'd love to hear you play guitar."

The sentence left my mouth before my brain could filter it. It was automatic. Genuine.

Wonbin slowly raised his eyes to me. His expression was unreadable, a mix of panic, surprise, and something I couldn't identify. The air between us seemed to thicken, and for an eternal second, the entire restaurant disappeared. It was just those big, dark eyes looking at me.

You're doing a terrible job acting like a bro, my conscience screamed. He's going to think you're a creep.

"I-I mean..." I stuttered, throwing myself back against the booth's backrest. "Because we need to rehearse for the assignment, of course. And... and it would be good if I could accompany you. Like, see how... how you play. And... does your sister like guitar? Wonbi?"

It was as if I had thrown a bucket of cold water on him.

Wonbin blinked several times, the magic of the moment shattering into a thousand pieces on the restaurant floor. He stiffened his posture, pulling his body back and hugging his own elbows. The shine in his eyes vanished, replaced by a familiar tension.

"She... yeah..." he said, his voice coming out short and robotic. "She likes it. I think."

I regretted it instantly. My stomach churned with frustration. I had just ruined the best moment of my week.

The waitress arrived with our food, placing the massive plates of burgers and fries in front of us, but my appetite had vanished.

I looked at Wonbin, who was now focused on putting ketchup on his fries, refusing to look at me. And in the middle of that restaurant with neon lights and rock playing in the background, a horrible feeling washed over me.

I didn't want to be there to talk about someone else. I wasn't in love with the girl from the record store. That girl didn't even matter anymore.