Chapter Text
There are many assumptions about Han Dongmin.
While he’s tried to avoid them to the best of his abilities, he’s learned the hard way that hearing such rumors about himself is inevitable. In fact, the music student has had so many directed at him in his lifetime that he was able to classify them into a handful of categories, some more thrilling than others.
The most common type of assumptions about him are the ones people make just by looking at him. He calls those ‘judging a book by its cover’, as creative as that sounds.
Admittedly, his appearance is a far cry from what most would call normal.
For one, his jet-black hair is often disheveled, especially on those mornings when he feels so disheartened that styling it is the last thing on his mind. This lands him unpleasant comments such as, ‘He probably doesn’t shower’ or ‘He must be depressed’, both of which are ignorant and outright rude.
He can’t exactly deny some of these assumptions. He has days when he skips showering, too tired to consider the tedious idea of cleaning himself. In his defence, Dongmin is convinced everyone has days like that from time to time. The second assumption, however, ticks him off every time he hears it. He hates that stereotype. Whenever he intercepts such a thing, he refuses to waste his time acknowledging it.
Another notable thing about his appearance is his ‘unusual’ style of clothing. See, Dongmin doesn’t like to work with colors much, which results in most of his wardrobe consisting of whites, blacks, a few grays, and very occasional reds or blues.
It’s quite easy to guess what people suppose here. Dongmin doesn’t consider himself ‘emo’. His style certainly can’t be described as ‘cute’ or ‘happy’ either, but the descriptions used on him are a bit of a stretch. That’s what he thinks, at least.
Then again, who is he to say that?
The last physical detail which he managed to conclude sparked a handful of more recent assumptions about him is the fact that he often wears nail polish. Surprisingly, the number of people asking him to confirm whether or not he’s gay has diminished significantly over the last few months. It might simply be because word spread and everyone was informed, or because they’ve decided to move on to more exciting theories about him — or other unfortunate students, for that matter — considering how he’s never made any real effort to talk to any guy outside of his two friends, Sanghyeok and Woonhak.
Ironically, they’re not wrong. Dongmin is gay. It’s no secret to his classmates anymore. It’s not something recent either — he’s pretty much figured it out by the end of middle school. The nail painting, however, is recent, so there can’t really be much correlation between the two, can there?
There are also assumptions he calls ‘misconceptions’. These have more to do with how he acts around others and what impressions his actions leave on people. He grows tired of them less quickly compared to the ‘judging a book by its cover’ ones because they can change from time to time. Of course, some assumptions from this category stay for much longer.
A big motivator of ‘misconceptions’ is the fact that Dongmin is a quiet individual. He won’t attempt to strike up a conversation unless absolutely necessary or unless he’s with someone like Sanghyeok or Woonhak. Even then, his friends have learned that he likes his moments of silence, and have learned to identify when his energy is so depleted that he doesn’t even want to think about the idea of communicating with anyone.
A particularly amusing ‘misconception’ he once managed to overhear was when a girl actually thought he was mute because he was having an exceptionally difficult day and was nodding along to everything Sanghyeok was saying instead of responding properly. He almost smiled when he saw the look of surprise on her face when she found out he could indeed speak three days later.
Aside from such speculations about him, some are just outright dumb, and Dongmin swears society is dumber every time he overhears one. For example, there was the time Dongmin overheard two girls whose names he couldn’t remember discussing how they believed he was a vampire in the middle of the obnoxiously long lunch line last Tuesday. For starters, he isn’t that pale. He also sleeps a decent amount if his workload allows him. His eyes aren’t even red. On top of it all, he actually does like garlic in his food. From the little amount he’s tasted by sucking on his wounds as a child, blood isn’t to his liking either.
He hasn’t found a fitting name for that category yet.
Despite what one might think, such things don’t affect Dongmin. In fact, he’s been doing a pretty good job at ignoring or outright shutting them out as of recently. After all, he’s a busy college student, and paying mind to useless distractions would just mess up his already quite intense workload.
He’s told himself many times that those who spend time calling out others for being different are the true problem, and he’s been trying his best to stick to that mindset, and honestly, it hasn't been difficult to slip into it either. People who pick on others are abominable, and he prefers to mind his own business instead of paying any mind to them.
Being a misfit often isn’t very pleasurable, but he likes to think it’s better to be himself rather than bland. Of course, he has to draw a line somewhere, so most of his passions are kept to himself. The last thing he’d like right now is to get bullied for his music taste or teased for the recent track he created two nights ago. It was built on the basis of staying up late and a whirlwind of emotions, with no one to direct them towards. Who’s to blame for that, though? Certainly not Dongmin.
Presently, Mr. Seok’s rambling on music theory is about as engaging as watching paint dry, for the lack of a better comparison. Being the good student he is, Dongmin directs as much of his attention as possible on what the professor is explaining, though a good portion of his concentration is also on the sheet of unfinished lyrics in front of him. He can’t seem to find the right words, and it’s been bugging him all day.
Usually, words flow onto the page quite smoothly, and even when he’s in a bad mood — which is admittedly quite often — they seldom stop completely. Maybe he chose the wrong topic? Or maybe it simply wasn’t his day today at all? Whatever the reason, it was pissing him off quite badly.
The school bell interrupts the professor, who clears his throat after it stops. “For next week, I’d like you all to choose a short extract of a song from an artist of your liking and analyze their work, just like we’d practiced before. The report must be around three pages long, handwritten, and handed in on Wednesday next week before class. If you have any questions, you may see me after class. But remember to keep it short. I’d rather you analyze a thirty-second extract very well than barely touch a two-minute extract. And, please, keep in mind the elements we revised during class today.”
Dongmin echoes the groans that erupt around him. Another homework assignment from music theory was definitely not something he would be looking forward to, especially since his current schedule is already time-consuming enough as is.
Unlike what many of his classmates believe, Dongmin is employed. Outside of school hours, he works shifts as a waiter at Seoul’s popular traditional Korean restaurant, Myung-Ga.
He considers himself extremely lucky to have such a good job, especially compared to things he’s heard about his other classmates. His income isn’t incredibly high, of course, but it’s totally not bad either, so he doesn’t think it’s right of him to complain.
On the contrary, he actually likes his job. It’s quite simple, but not dull either. Maybe it helps that he can spend his time talking to Woonhak when not attending to guests. The younger high school student certainly improves his mood after a bad day at school, and Dongmin truly is grateful to have him, even if he sometimes has a hard time expressing it.
Deciding to pack his things up rather slowly, preferring to exit once the crowd has died down, Dongmin examines the lyrics sheet once more. It’s messy, to say the least. Many lines he deemed weren’t good enough are crossed out in red ink. Useless annotations, even doodles, line the edges.
As soon as he finds other students glancing his way, he shoves it into his bag, swallowing. He really isn’t in the mood for confrontations or comments right at this moment. Not because they’d upset him — like he’s mentioned before, he absolutely couldn’t care less — but because they’d end up annoying him and ruining his time at work later. He really did want to be present for Woonhak, especially since he had hardly socialized today at all.
Sanghyeok was busy studying at lunch, and they barely exchanged words in the meantime. Dongmin didn’t want to be a burden for his best friend, and especially not the reason for Sanghyeok failing, so he made the necessary sacrifice. Eating lunch in silence wasn’t all that bad either. His mouth was busily chewing the foul-tasting food anyway.
Dongmin is lucky enough to go to a college that has a lot of music practice rooms on campus. They enable him to practice the electric guitar whenever he wants to or to hide out from people whenever he doesn’t feel like seeing anyone. While it is commonplace for Sanghyeok to ask to join him, Dongmin knows his best friend has a life of his own, both academic and social, so he never forces him to. Sanghyeok likes to insist anyway, claiming to like hearing his best friend play, and Dongmin could never bring himself to counter that point before.
Today’s lunch period had been one of those times where Dongmin sought peace in the practice rooms alone.
He didn’t bring his electric guitar from home, but Ms. Nam, one of his professors, thankfully had a spare one she said was his to borrow whenever he wanted to. Naturally, it wasn’t as good as his own — which took him a handful of months to save up for, hence why he’s just a bit biased — but it was good enough to practice on.
That was when he started writing the lyrics to a new song he wanted to work on. Except, he couldn’t get anything good out, and ended up procrastinating and scrolling on his phone instead.
When he sees that most students have exited the classroom, Dongmin slings his bag over his shoulder and trudges out as well. Weaving through the already emptying halls, he ignores everyone in his way and makes his way to his locker.
As expected, Sanghyeok is already rummaging through his own, putting books back neatly and taking out others he needs to finish up his homework tonight. Upon hearing Dongmin approach, the ginger-haired student looks up, a smile slightly worn down by fatigue on his lips.
Dongmin wouldn’t have it any other way.
“There he is,” his best friend greets shortly before turning back to his locker and taking out the last notebook he needs for today, and places it in his backpack. Dongmin catches the word ‘Kinesiology’ written on it in handwriting which is, without a doubt, Sanghyeok’s. Though he doesn’t know what that is, his brain would probably fry if he thought too hard about it, so he drops the inquiry.
“Hi Sanghyeok,” he says instead, his greeting short but ordinary for him, and his best friend knows it too.
Sanghyeok finally shuts his locker and faces Dongmin. While his glasses are absent, a few of his signature necklaces are missing around his neck. Opting for a comfortable outfit, he wears a loose red hoodie and oversized jeans. He’s significantly shorter despite being around a year older than Dongmin.
Both his height and fashion taste definitely contrast with Dongmin’s, but neither of them is especially concerned with it. People say opposites attract, and the music student figures that it may be somewhat true.
Dongmin opens his locker and begins to put his things back, taking out what he needs for later, and tries to cram it into his backpack when Sanghyeok decides a simple greeting is far from his ideal length of today’s conversation.
“How was your class? I still have so much studying to do later,” he groans, and Dongmin can’t help but find himself smiling a little.
“My class was fine,” he summarizes the past few hours of his life curtly before proceeding to reply to the second half of Sanghyeok’s statements. “Why do they make dance students learn so much theory?”
“Yeah, because theory is important,” Sanghyeok shoots back, scoffing lightly. “With how much human anatomy we study, I bet I could become a doctor instead.”
Dongmin finally closes his locker and looks up at him teasingly. “Well,” he drags out. “It’s not too late to change.”
“As if! I think I’d die if I became a doctor. Plus, I think I’ve had enough visits to the hospital in my lifetime,” Sanghyeok jokes.
Though it was meant to be taken lightly, Dongmin still tenses inside just a little bit when Sanghyeok speaks like that. His best friend is right — he has definitely gone to the hospital far too often for someone of his age. Despite this fact, the dancer looks completely healthy on the outside, another thing that devastates Dongmin.
Dongmin doesn’t realize his smile faded until Sanghyeok’s question jolts him back to reality. “You’ve got work today, right?”
Clearing his throat, the younger nods. “Uh, yeah. I should probably start going.”
Sanghyeok shrugs. “No problem. Want me to take something to the dorm for you?”
“No, don’t worry. I wanted to do my homework there anyway,” Dongmin lies, if only to not burden his best friend any further.
“They let you do that?”
“If it’s not too busy, I guess,” Dongmin shrugs.
“‘Kay. I’m going to an appointment first, but I can go grocery shopping after I finish,” Sanghyeok says, slightly less engaged as he mentions the doctor’s visit. He changes the subject. “Any dinner requests?”
“How about I order takeout? You should take a break from cooking for us all the time,” he suggests curtly. If Sanghyeok is going to the doctor, Dongmin wants him to feel better when he comes back.
Wide-eyed, Sanghyeok immediately shakes his head violently as if offended, which amuses his best friend just a little. “Dude, no! That’s too expensive. It’s not even the weekend or any special day. I’ll whip something simpler up for us.”
‘Something simpler’ means ramen.
It’s always flattered Dongmin just how much Sanghyeok cared for him. Despite him being quiet, moody, and even harsh at times, the dance student hasn’t ever doubted their friendship. Truthfully, Dongmin can’t imagine a life without him. Sanghyeok found him at his lowest and helped him build everything back up.
He really wants to express his gratitude to Sanghyeok more often, if only he knew how. Every time, his best friend refuses everything Dongmin offers him, claiming that he doesn’t need anything fancy to be his friend.
He really doesn’t know what he did to deserve such a someone. He definitely doesn’t.
Dongmin nods reluctantly. “If you say so.”
Sanghyeok opens his mouth to reply, but is promptly cut off by loud laughter approaching the pair, and the mood is ruined instantly — for Dongmin, at least.
The trio of guys looks absolutely diverted at whatever the one in the middle is currently telling them.
On the right walks Kim Donghyun. He’s well-known on their campus for two reasons: One, because he’s so extremely open about his obsession with fish — to the point where he takes marine biology as his major — and two, because he’s really damn good-looking. His fairly long black hair frames his features perfectly. He doesn’t recall ever seeing Donghyun having a bad hair day. Donghyun wears a knit black and pink sweater, topped off with a choker and long, loose white pants.
Calling Donghyun ‘annoying’ is an understatement.
Hyperfixating on fish, out of all things, and making it your entire personality, is a stretch. Seriously. Even now, he hears Donghyun mention how he’s recently photographed some rare fish at an aquarium he visited with his family this weekend. Dongmin swears he would go insane from talking to him for two minutes.
Not to mention how Donghyun’s backpack is littered with various keychains, most of them aquatic, and they jingle bothersomely whenever he walks, jumps, or does just about any movement.
Donghyun’s expressions piss him off too. His big, round eyes whenever he shows just about any emotion, which is constantly. He’s always happy and bright, and Dongmin knows nobody is always content — even Sanghyeok and Woonhak have their bad days. He’s so annoyingly phony.
On the left is Park Sungho, who is currently laughing extra loudly at something Donghyun said, actually stopping and doubling over from amusement.
Dongmin cringes.
Sungho is equally as pretty as Donghyun, but he dates more than Donghyun does — who, come to think of it, Dongmin doesn’t recall ever dating anyone. Currently, however, Sungho is single, and his last breakup happened last year and ended pretty badly. He remembers that when it happened, Sanghyeok was obsessed with collecting every single piece of gossip like a detective solving the case of the century. The dancer came to the conclusion that Sungho wasn’t committing enough, and his girlfriend, Hwang Chaerin, and she ended things with him.
Sungho’s got blonde hair, freshly redyed. He wears a blue button-up shirt and simple, baggy jeans. Compared to Donghyun, he dresses absurdly minimalistically.
Sungho is unpleasant, to say the least. He’s obnoxiously loud, and looks like he can’t think for himself at all. Dongmin recalls hearing a rumor that Sungho almost failed his recent exam.
He feels no sympathy at all. If he’s really that dumb, he should’ve chosen an easier major rather than communications.
And in the middle — always in the middle — is Myung Jaehyun. He saunters with his hands in his pockets, like he has all the time in the world. That attractive smirk of his is in place as he has his eyes fixed on Sungho, attention undivided on whatever the older is now rambling about.
If Donghyun and Sungho are handsome, then Jaehyun is drop-dead gorgeous. He’s got half the school swooning over him.
In many ways, Jaehyun is perfect. He’s the student council president and captain of the school soccer team — which, by the way, Sungho also plays on. He’s a business major, which will definitely land him a good job in the future, and even if he doesn’t get a job, he’ll have his parents’ massive fortune to sustain him. He’s got perfectly silky black hair, a perfectly slim body, perfectly trendy fashion taste, a perfectly attractive confidence, and just about everything else. On top of that, he gets along with quite literally everyone, teachers and staff included.
Out of the three, Dongmin hates Jaehyun the most.
It’s obvious how he’s a people pleaser. He most definitely gossips about people behind their backs and doesn’t give a shit about school. Yeah, he gets good grades, but that’s just pure luck. Dongmin isn’t stupid. He’s heard plenty about how Jaehyun skips class sometimes and goes partying almost every weekend.
As far as Dongmin is concerned, Donghyun and Sungho trail behind, beside, or around Jaehyun basically every second of the day except during class, considering they’re independent enough not to choose the same major as Jaehyun just to be in his vicinity. At this point, the two basically worship him.
Dongmin’s stomach does some kind of ugly twist, and he suddenly feels like throwing up.
Finally, the last puzzle piece comes into view. Lee Youngji approaches the trio, a sappy smile on her face. She throws an arm around Jaehyun’s waist, and they share a kiss. Sungho and Donghyun barely even react.
What show-offs. Dongmin doesn’t stop the scoff that escapes his lips, and Sanghyeok smirks knowingly.
“Gee, looks like someone’s mad,” he comments.
“I’m not mad.”
“Sure you are.”
Dongmin tears his eyes away from the group, jaw clenched. “They’re idiots, Sanghyeok. What do you want me to say?”
His best friend crosses his arms. “Ignore them.”
Fair point. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder,” Sanghyeok offers, then shrugs. “Or don’t. It’s not like they’re doing anything to you.”
That is technically true, but also unfortunately doesn’t help the situation. “They’re annoying.” What a downplay of the truth.
“I know they are, but—”
“No, like, they’re assholes,” Dongmin interrupts, starting into a rant. “I don’t want to see them get all lovey-dovey on a Tuesday afternoon. That shit is so obviously for show. I don’t know how you can stand watching this. My day’s been perfectly okay until I saw—”
He cuts himself off when he feels Sanghyeok’s stare on him. The older is looking at him with a knowing look, and it’s obvious he was just unintentionally causing a scene.
“Dude, calm down. I know,” Sanghyeok affirms him.
“I just fucking hate people like them,” Dongmin mumbles. “You know I do.”
There’s no denying it. He hates them, and he has good reason to as well. Maybe they’re not bothering him yet. Maybe all that will happen to Dongmin will be those stupid assumptions.
But maybe one day Donghyun will laugh at him for some stupid reason. Or maybe Sungho will get bored and will decide to ask an embarrassing question in front of the whole school. Or maybe Jaehyun will approach him and ask why he’s such a quiet dork.
Or maybe Youngji will decide to bring back the past and torment Dongmin all over again.
He takes a breath and unclenches his jaw. “I’m gonna head to work. Don’t wanna be late.”
“Alright. See you later,” Sanghyeok bids farewell.
🎶
The bus ride from school to work is roughly three minutes, while the walk is roughly fifteen. Dongmin opts for the walk each time.
Bus tickets are an unnecessary waste of money that the young waiter really can’t afford right now. Besides, he appreciates a nice walk to clear his head, especially after witnessing that stupid scene back at school.
Seoul is a busy place, and people move all over. Kids return home from another day at school. Adults race home after completing work. Groups of friends huddle and chat. Others look miserable, their distress ignored by everyone around them.
And maybe that’s what Dongmin likes about this city so much. Everyone minds their own business, so he can look as depressed as he wants and won’t get pointed out for it. In other words, the city is an introvert’s paradise.
His shift will last a couple of hours, but he isn’t too worried about it. Woonhak will be there to cheer him up, and even so, work takes his mind off things. In the past, whenever they needed him to fill a position or take an extra shift, he accepted without hesitation. Extra distractions came with extra money.
For someone quiet, Dongmin finds himself quite confident when serving guests. Maybe it’s because he knows the interaction is expected by both parties. Maybe it’s because he’s never seen anyone from school here before. Who knows?
He arrives around fifteen minutes before his shift outside the restaurant. As expected, Woonhak is there waiting for him.
Despite being eighteen — two years younger than Dongmin — Woonhak is the same height as him, according to Sanghyeok. Though it seems to shift depending on the day, or possibly according to their current footwear. Woonhak’s brown hair is slowly growing just a bit too long, though the older knows it’s no use to ask him to cut it, as Woonhak simply doesn’t listen to him — or anyone else, for that matter. He wears a graphic tee and jeans as well as a hoodie tied around his waist. He’s still got those boyish, slightly childish features.
Dongmin wouldn’t have it any other way.
Kim Woonhak is a bundle of sunshine and energy, but he’s also surprisingly smart. He’s helped Dongmin work on assessments more times than the music student would like to admit. He knows it should be the other way around, but here they are.
As soon as the high schooler spots him, he smiles and waves energetically. “Dongmin! Hello!”
He can’t help but roll his eyes affectionately. “Hi, Woonhak.”
His response earns him a nudge in the arm. “You’re so late today. What happened? Don’t tell me Sanghyeok did something stupid again.”
“Don’t exaggerate. I’m only a few minutes later than usual. We just talked for a while longer,” Dongmin informs him, and the younger finds the response acceptable enough.
“You’re lucky I like you,” Woonhak converses. “It’s kinda awkward to stand outside this place. Neither of us looks rich enough to come here to have lunch or something.”
“Yeah, well, you could’ve waited across the street if it bothered you so much,” Dongmin counters.
Woonhak facepalms. “You’re so right. School stress must have finally gotten to me.”
“School stress?” The music student echoes.
“Yup,” he nods. “It’s very serious, you know. It makes your thoughts all weird, and you can’t think straight anymore.”
“You’re describing school like it’s a disease.”
“What if it is?”
“You’re, like, the top of your class,” Dongmin reminds.
“Burnout is a thing, Dongminnie.”
Dongmin shakes his head, not sure how to reply.
Fortunately for him, he doesn’t need to. It takes about three more seconds for the subject to be immediately dropped and forgotten. Woonhak seizes his wrist and begins to drag him inside.
“Alright. Work time!” He exclaims much too cheerfully for what they’re about to do.
They enter through the back entrance. Their manager greets them as usual, and they retrieve their uniforms from the locker room. They change swiftly, and Woonhak obsessively arranges his hair in the mirror, claiming he has to look charming for the guests.
“I told you, it looks fine.”
“No, it doesn’t. Do you have a hairbrush?”
“Do I look like I have a hairbrush?” Dongmin deadpans.
Woonhak squints, keeping his eyes on his reflection in the locker room mirror. “Fair point. Your hair looks like it’s never touched a hairbrush.”
“Excuse me?”
“Kidding! You look great.”
Dongmin unconsciously spends half of his shift checking his hair every five minutes on any reflective surface he can find. The other half is spent serving guests and wondering if he looks like a disaster.
🎶
Dongmin returns home late in the evening to the familiar smell of instant ramen boiling in a pot. It seems Sanghyeok made dinner, just like he promised.
Immediately, his stomach makes a series of loud growls, and only then does he realize just how hungry and exhausted he really is. A few hours spent at work serving mouth-watering food to customers without anything to eat sure took a toll on him.
He’s done this every day for a while now, but new routines are something Dongmin has always taken more time to adjust to. New habits aren’t easily formed, and old ones die hard. He still picks at his palm’s skin sometimes. He still unconsciously touches his ear when he’s nervous. He still bites his fingernails, especially now when he craves that cheap store-bought instant ramen more than ever. He’s pretty sure eating so much of it will backfire sooner or later — it’s all he and Sanghyeok have been eating for dinner recently.
He knows he should probably improve his diet.
He would, if only he could afford it.
And so, Dongmin decides his diet’s improvement can wait.
Sanghyeok looks like a professional chef as he stands by the pot, stirring the ramen while glancing at the timer every two seconds. He wonders how much the older actually enjoys doing this. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s done this — cooked anything. He’s barely cooked in his life at all. Despite working at a famous restaurant in the middle of Seoul. Despite being twenty years old.
So much for being an adult.
“I’m back,” Dongmin announces, tossing his shoes to a corner by the entrance and beelining to faceplant onto the little couch Sanghyeok and he were able to purchase recently. It’s not the most comfortable surface he’s lain on, but exhaustion makes it feel a thousand times more heavenly.
His best friend doesn’t glance up from the food. “How was work?”
“Wonderful,” he reports facetiously into the couch. “Woonhak almost made me spill water all over some guy. It spilled on me instead.”
He hears Sanghyeok’s laugh. “Seriously? How did he do that?”
Despite knowing the dancer won’t spot the action, Dongmin shrugs. “He can do a lot of things.”
“And how did your manager take it?” Sanghyeok inquires further. The atmosphere is warm and comfortable, and Dongmin thinks he likes moments like these the best. Seoul sparkles outside the apartment, peaceful and soothing. He’s always been more of a night owl. His mood is best when it’s dark out.
Dongmin lifts his head from the couch. “She was pissed. Woonhak kept apologizing to me for the next hour. He really thought I was gonna get fired.”
It was true. The high schooler looked more terrified than a criminal caught. To get Woonhak back, he spent the full hour completely serious to worsen his anxiety. He had to stop when he saw the younger looked like he was about to cry, though.
The stove beeps loudly, signalling that the instant ramen has finished cooking. Sanghyeok quickly scoops it up, splits it between two bowls, dumps a bunch of seasoning packets on them, and brings them to the table. Quickly, his best friend joins him.
After exchanging quick murmurs of ‘enjoy’, they dig in like starved animals. The taste is as promising as ever. Sanghyeok bought Dongmin’s favourite flavor again.
“How was the appointment?” He manages to ask in between bites.
“It was fine. The usual. They said not to overdo it. I went out to buy a new inhaler too, just in case.” Sanghyeok explains, acting unbothered.
Dongmin is aware that his best friend’s hospital visits every few months aren’t his conversation topic of choice, but he wants to show he cares. The first time he’d witnessed Sanghyeok having an asthma attack was also the day when a strange sense of protectiveness was born inside him. From that day onwards, Dongmin decided he would learn to properly take care of Sanghyeok.
In many ways, Sanghyeok is the one person Dongmin could never be. He’s always admired his best friend’s perseverance. If he had asthma — especially asthma as bad as Sanghyeok’s, which is notably worse than normal — he wouldn’t dare dance like he does.
But the thing is, Sanghyeok dances anyway, every day, with all his might. He’s incredibly good at it too. The younger loves watching his best friend dance. It makes him so fucking proud.
“That’s good though, no?” Dongmin offers.
Sanghyeok makes a face, split between surrender and annoyance. “I guess? It’d be better if I didn’t have it at all.”
Dongmin finishes chewing before responding. “Obviously. Doesn’t make you any less for having it, though. Honestly, it means you have to work twice as hard as everyone else. And, look, you’re the top of your class.”
Sanghyeok is unable to keep a shy smile off his face. “Thanks. You know that’s not true, though. Sujin is, like, so much better than me.”
Dongmin waves it off dismissively. “You’ll always be the best in my eyes.”
They finish their dinner surrounded by comfortable chatter. Sanghyeok laughs a lot, to the point where he almost chokes on his ramen, which only makes him laugh harder. The two decide that choking on ramen would be a tragic way to go, then swear to each other that they’ll make sure to die more interestingly.
Dongmin wouldn’t have it any other way.
🎶
After dinner, Dongmin ends up in his tiny bedroom because he unfortunately still has work to do.
Fine, maybe ‘work’ is a bit of a stretch. He had decided that he wouldn't be doing any homework tonight long ago. He’s got much more important matters on his hands.
His electric guitar rests uselessly on Dongmin’s lap, and the slightly crumpled sheet of lyrics stares back at him unforgivingly. Once more, he can’t think of any good continuations to his piece, both note and word-wise. It really isn’t his day.
…Or maybe he just needs a good motivator.
He puts the guitar down and takes out his laptop, its case covered in all sorts of stickers. Most of them are stickers of his favourite bands, amongst them Nirvana, Oasis, The Beatles, My Chemical Romance, and The Carpenters. There’s also an ugly sticker with a poorly drawn bear on it, which Woonhak stuck on while he wasn’t looking, and he’s long given up on trying to remove the darn thing, which held on relentlessly. Besides those, there is a black cat sticker that Sanghyeok gifted him a while ago.
He likes that one the most. When he gave it to him, Sanghyeok said it reminded him of Dongmin, and despite complaining about the comment, the younger was beaming inside — both at the gift and the thought. Later, when Woonhak found out, he agreed with Sanghyeok’s comparison, and the two have been pointing out similarities between Dongmin and black cats ever since.
Dongmin navigates to SoundCloud, his musical haven. He’s always preferred SoundCloud over Spotify, perhaps because he can listen to other small artists’ work. He doesn’t think he’s ready to go so big and upload his songs to Spotify. That will have to wait until he graduates, probably.
Taesan is his username. It means ‘giant mountain’ in Korean. He’s not entirely sure why he picked it instead of ‘Han Dongmin’ or just ‘Dongmin’. Maybe because his father originally wanted to name him that. Maybe because it gives him control over who he is. Maybe so that nobody recognizes it and questions him about it later.
Whatever the reason, Taesan has been uploading music for the past four years. Only Sanghyeok and Woonhak know. His professors have no idea. His classmates have no idea. His parents have no idea either.
He plays his favourite self-produced song, Take My Tears. Dongmin still has no idea why he wrote a love song. It’s not like he’s recently had a crush, let alone ever fallen in love with someone. Despite this, the words came to him almost naturally while writing it.
The vocals are raw, just like the lyrics. Dongmin was eighteen when he wrote them. Take My Tears was a song he wrote after graduating from high school. Despite wanting the first to feel like a musical redemption, Dongmin was only able to produce a shoddy track that he never uploaded. It was only the second time that worked, and he made something actually listenable — and even more than that, if he wasn’t so shy about admitting it.
The song finishes way too fast — probably because it’s just over two minutes long — but it fills him with nostalgia anyway.
Suddenly, he’s back to two years ago. Packing his things up to move away from home to live with Sanghyeok in an apartment they were able to afford. Excited to be an adult. Heartbroken to leave his dad, sister, and brother behind, promising to visit them every now and then. Ready to be alone. Scared to be lonely.
He wasn’t sure of a lot of things back then, but having Sanghyeok by his side made it bearable. The two figured everything out together.
Dongmin remembers when he first got his job. How quickly anxiety turned to excitement, and how it slowly shifted back to anxiety again. What if he messes up? What if he loses his job? What if he won’t be able to sustain himself anymore?
His father is helping pay for his college, of course, but even that puts a strain on his father’s money, and he doesn’t want that.
Sanghyeok’s parents, well. He got into college with a scholarship, while his parents remain unsupportive of their son’s future plans. His job will only get him so far.
All Dongmin can do is to be there for his best friend to the best of his ability.
Dongmin’s fingers find the strings of his guitar, and he strums chords aimlessly, hoping to find a sequence — or at least one chord — that he likes. His fingers twist to play an A Minor chord. It’s oddly satisfying this time, even though he’d heard it a million times before. This might be it.
And it is.
Ten minutes later, Dongmin creates a riff. An hour and a half later, Dongmin has an instrumental drafted. Two hours later, Sanghyeok, dressed in his ridiculous pyjamas with cartoon otters on them, is in his room telling him that it’s much too late and that Dongmin should shower and sleep immediately.
“In a minute,” Dongmin groans, still too focused on what he has made to put real bite into his words.
Sanghyeok crosses his arms. “No, go now. I’ve got a longer shift tomorrow and wanna sleep. Your playing is keeping me up.”
With a sigh, the music student carefully sets the guitar back into its corner. “Fine. Sorry. I just finally got the motivation to do something again.”
“You can show me tomorrow,” Sanghyeok smiles softly, and that satisfies his best friend.
“I’ll be quick,” Dongmin assures, grabbing his oversized black t-shirt and a pair of grey shorts from beneath his pillow as well as a fresh pair of underwear from his closet, and makes his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Before Sanghyeok lets him leave the room, however, he stops him with a hand to his chest.
“Where’s my ‘good night’?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.
For the first time today, Dongmin smiles. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”
Sanghyeok pulls him into a hug. The dancer’s short height is most obvious to him whenever he hugs him. It’s times like these when Dongmin is overcome with a warm feeling inside. He appreciates his best friend so much. He appreciates what they did and still do for each other. He appreciates their late-night chatter and every shared moment of silence. He appreciates the fact that he wasn’t given up on back then.
The younger rests his head on top of Sanghyeok’s, something he does often, though usually to tease the dancer for his height. This time, it’s out of pure affection, and Sanghyeok seems to pick up on that as well.
“Night, Min. See you tomorrow.”
Dongmin wouldn’t have it any other way.
🎶
He entered Myung-Ga expecting to complete a shift like any other. He imagined serving customers with a polite smile, advising them on choosing between two plates of quality he would only get for himself on very special occasions, messing around with Woonhak a little bit, and going back home to Sanghyeok.
Unfortunately, nothing went as planned today.
Woonhak had texted him just minutes before their shift that he wouldn’t be able to make it because he woke up sick in the morning and forgot to let him know until then. The child.
Dongmin wasn’t too worried about that. He’d come to work without the high schooler before, and so had Woonhak. It’s not like Woonhak’s presence would have made much of a difference anyway.
Thursday afternoon meant customers would be flocking in constantly. Maybe not as much as Friday, but it’s not to be underestimated. In fact, when he first came in to start his shift, the restaurant was already busy. He rushed into the locker room to change into his uniform, changing as quickly as possible so he could help out.
He served his customers as usual. He promoted the ridiculously expensive meal of the day just as instructed — normal. He cleaned up a soup spill after a toddler, who kept weeping throughout the family’s entire stay — annoying, but normal. He spent the last half an hour of his shift thinking of things he and Sanghyeok could do when he finally gets home — also normal.
He worked hard, just as always.
Which is why the last thing he expected was to be stopped by his manager right before leaving.
“Could you wait a moment? I’d like to talk to you,” she told him, her eyes betraying nothing.
Just like that, Dongmin’s week turned upside-down. He was sure it was about him spilling that water on himself. Or maybe he was going to get fired for messing around with Woonhak too much.
“Um, okay,” Dongmin says weakly, following his manager to her office.
Fuck. This is bad. It’s definitely something bad.
He’s absolutely getting fired. He needs to tell her that he can do better and beg to keep this job. He has no other choice, really.
“Please, sit,” she gestures to the chair in front of her desk, which looks incredibly cozy. When he sits, that idea is immediately confirmed. Either way, the chair fails to provide him any sort of comfort in the terrifying situation he suddenly finds himself in.
He swallows thickly, breaking into a helpless ramble. “Is everything okay? If there is anything at all I did, I will do my best to fix it, just please don’t—”
“Fire you?” His manager asks.
Dongmin shrinks into his chair a bit. “Yeah.” His voice is weak and pathetic, and he can’t even bring himself to make eye contact.
There are a few seconds of silence where he really believes this is it. His heart pounds in his chest, and he’s almost convinced she can hear it too. And to his surprise, his manager has the audacity to laugh.
Is his being fired really that funny? Was he that bad of a waiter? His stupid brain thinks of every possible situation where he might’ve caused a mess. Myung-Ga is a reputable restaurant. Any slip-up is probably enough for him to get kicked out, and he’s had more than a few of those.
“Oh, Dongmin, we’re not firing you,” she chuckles. “If I’m being honest, you’re one of the best we have. On top of that, you’re a handsome young man. Our customers love you.”
Wait. What? What else could his manager possibly be talking to him about then?
“You’re— not?” Dongmin stammers, his manager’s compliments going ignored in the face of overwhelming relief.
The manager shakes her head. “It’s quite the opposite, actually.”
Okay. Now he’s even more confused. Is he getting a raise for being handsome? There must be some kind of mistake.
“One of our chefs just quit yesterday evening, and it will take time for us to hire a new one. I remember you saying that you have cooking experience in your interview and resumé. I would like to propose that you fill the position in the meantime. You can continue working at the same hours, though maybe you’d have to stay behind a bit longer. Your salary will be adjusted accordingly, of course.” She explains, then adds, “Who knows, maybe you’ll be so skilled that we’ll hire you permanently.”
Dongmin’s jaw almost drops open, but not for the reason he’d like. And this isn't a good kind of shock. It’s a very, very bad kind of shock.
“Cooking… experience,” he repeats pathetically, fighting to stay composed.
What cooking experience? Him?
“Yes,” his manager smiles, oblivious. She reaches into her desk and pulls out Dongmin’s resumé, pushing it forward to him so he can see.
He takes it in both hands, searching for whatever the hell he wrote in there that gave him this fate. Indeed, it says “has experience in the kitchen”. And suddenly, he remembers, his guilt skyrocketing.
The interview had been stressful for Dongmin. He wasn’t sure what to say exactly, how to present himself, or hell, why he even wanted this specific job besides the obviously rewarding pay. There was a moment of silence; he acted stupidly out of sheer anxiety.
“I, um, have some cooking experience too,” he had said to the interviewer. He didn’t think much of it at the time. By ‘cooking experience’, he meant that he helped his father or Sanghyeok around in the kitchen a few times.
Apparently, that sentence had been misinterpreted. Taken into account more than he’d hoped for. And now that stupid sentence is the key to his future. Or doom.
In reality, he knows that there’s a recipe and ingredients, and the recipe tells you how to turn the ingredients into something else. He knows that the ingredients might have to be chopped and boiled, fried, cooked, or baked. He knows there are a lot of different spices to make the food taste better. His knowledge ends there.
In the present, his manager clears her throat. “Is something the matter?”
Dongmin is five seconds away from having a heart attack. “No,” he forces out. “Um. If I accepted, when would I start?”
His manager checks the calendar on her desk, marked with countless dates and deadlines, and Dongmin wonders how she keeps up with all of them. “You could start on Sunday, in three days,” she proposes. “You would need to come in the morning — around nine in the morning — for a quick lesson and tour around the kitchen, and then you can begin working.”
He doesn’t dare ask, ‘What if I refuse?’, because he’s pretty sure they’d fire him for lying on his resumé on the spot. Plus, being a chef would pay him much more than being a waiter does. He could maybe… treat Sanghyeok to a nice dinner, or even a vacation. Show him how much he really means to him.
That does sound kind of nice.
“Okay. I’ll do it,” he answers, his words somehow confident.
He can probably just bullshit his way through, right? Anyone can cook. It can’t possibly be that hard.
Wrong.
“Awesome,” his manager smiles, taking the resumé from Dongmin’s slightly shaking hands. “You’ll get an email with the details tonight. You’ll sign all the papers on Sunday.”
Fortunately, that’s a problem for Future Dongmin.
🎶
“You did what?” Sanghyeok’s voice bellows throughout their apartment, and Dongmin is convinced their neighbors heard him. Their walls are paper-thin, after all.
The second Dongmin came home, he broke the equally devastating and exciting news. They’ll be richer. They might not have to stress about their bills so much anymore. Apparently, Sanghyeok only chose to focus on the bad things, and he’s been pacing the room for the past five minutes, the email describing Dongmin’s new profession open on the laptop in front of them. If he keeps this up, he’ll have a head full of wrinkles and gray hairs tomorrow, but his best friend doesn’t tell him this.
Instead, tries to defend himself. “I got promoted, technically.”
Sanghyeok gestures around helplessly. “Dongmin. You don’t even know how to cook instant ramen properly! What makes you think you can take on kitchen work in one of the best restaurants in Seoul?”
Calling it ‘one of the best restaurants in Seoul’ is kind of a stretch, isn’t it? Either way, Dongmin winces. “If you say it like that…” He trails off, averting his eyes to the floor.
“How wonderful,” Sanghyeok sighs frustratedly. “I’m assuming that if you tell them that you can’t actually cook, they’ll fire you on the spot for, like, breaking the law or something. Right?”
“Sanghyeok, I did not break the law!” Dongmin groans, though his heart is about to explode from the rush of stress, then pauses. “Wait. Is lying in your interview illegal?”
“Of course it is!” Sanghyeok exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “How is that not illegal? You’re literally gonna get paid more for lying.”
The dancer makes the situation sound ten times more ridiculous. Maybe it’s worse than Dongmin imagined. Getting fired for lying is one thing, but getting arrested for lying is another. What then? He won’t be able to make music in jail. Sanghyeok will be left alone, and he’ll have to somehow pay rent by himself. Dongmin would live up to the assumptions and wreck his reputation entirely.
“Sanghyeok. I can’t get arrested. I’m too young!” Dongmin whines.
Sanghyeok tuts. “You need to learn how to cook properly.”
The music student stares. “No shit. But I kinda have three days to do that before I start, counting today.”
“You can get a tutor to help you,” his best friend proposes. “Like, after school tomorrow and then a full-day tutor session on Saturday. They’re probably easy to find.”
Dongmin shakes his head vigorously. “No way. That’s gonna cost me my whole monthly salary.”
“Mm. You’re right.” Silence. Sanghyeok’s lips press together, an indicator that he’s thinking deeply about something. Weighing the options. Selecting the one he finds would work best. “I have another idea,” he eventually says, his lips beginning to form a small smirk soon after.
Suddenly, Dongmin doesn’t know what he’s scared of more: His whole job ordeal or his best friend. “Well, go ahead. Shoot.”
“There’s this guy,” Sanghyeok says cryptically. “Rumor has it that he’s insanely good at cooking. Like, gourmet-level good. He’s in the same year as us. You could ask him.”
Dongmin perks up. “Who?”
“Oh, you’ll never guess,” Sanghyeok teases. What happened to being serious and stressed?
Dongmin rolls his eyes impatiently. “Can you just tell me?”
The dancer looks him dead in the eyes. “It’s Jaehyun.” The name rolls off his tongue lightly, as if it doesn’t have the great weight that his name usually comes with.
There’s a pause, then Dongmin is laughing almost hysterically, looking away. “Good one, Sanghyeok.”
“I’m serious, Dongmin,” Sanghyeok protests. “It’s Jaehyun.”
The music student stops laughing and glances up at his best friend. “Okay. What?”
The older nods. “Dude. Have you seriously never heard about this? His parents own a restaurant, and he apparently got lessons when he was younger. It turns out he has a talent for it.”
He must have heard wrong. Myung Jaehyun. Myung Jaehyun. His least favourite person is apparently a skilled chef and the son of a restaurant owner. Awesome. Wonderful.
Another laugh escapes from Dongmin’s throat, but this one is far from humorous. It’s more nervous and miserable. “Absolutely not. I am not going to go up to that ass and ask him for cooking lessons. I have dignity.”
He runs his hand through his hair, unable to meet his eyes. “He’ll make fun of me, Sanghyeok. He won’t even agree in the first place. I don’t need that right now.”
At those last words, Sanghyeok’s smile slowly vanishes. He reaches out to place an arm on Dongmin’s shoulder. “You don’t know that,” he tries gently. “I’ve never seen him do anything mean to anyone, honestly.”
The younger shrugs it off aggressively. “Do you really trust him over me?” His voice begins to rise as frustration weaves itself in. “Fucking hell. Are you serious?”
Sanghyeok’s eyes widen in alarm. “I’m just saying that you don’t really know him and—”
“—He might be ‘different’, is that it?” Dongmin interrupts, emotions boiling over. “Over my dead body. He’s literally dating Youngji. Do you not see how this hints at exactly what kind of person he is?”
The dancer groans in frustration. “Dongmin. You don’t know the guy. You’re in a terrible situation right now, and I’m trying to help you, and all you do is complain. What’s the worst that can happen?”
That sends the younger into a deeper spiral. “The ‘worst he can do’? What can’t he do?! He’s got the whole school wrapped around his little finger. If he feels like making fun of me, he’ll do it in an instant. What rumor do you think we’ll get this time? That I’m some money-hungry freak who threatened to hurt Jaehyun if he didn’t help me? That I’m his secret stalker? Or do you have any other ideas? Because, frankly, Jaehyun is capable of many things.”
He watches as Sanghyeok’s eyes darken in silent understanding. He can never stay angry for too long. Suddenly, it’s too late to take it back, even as regret begins to pool in the pit of Dongmin’s stomach.
“You’re scared,” his best friend says. “You’re scared of him.”
Of course he isn’t. Why would someone like Dongmin be scared of someone like Jaehyun? “I’m not,” he says, trying to calm down again. “I just really hate him.”
“‘Hate’ is a strong word,” Sanghyeok reminds. “I still think you don’t want to because of something else.”
Dongmin doesn’t like what his best friend is trying to do there. He angles himself away so he can’t see his face. So that shutting himself in and walking away is easier. “I’ve made up my mind, Sanghyeok, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Before the older can say anything in reply, Dongmin begins to head to his bedroom. “I’m gonna go do homework,” he mumbles, and doesn’t care whether or not he was loud enough to be heard.
However, even as his door slams shut and he’s sealed away from society in his own little space, Sanghyeok’s words echo in his skull persistently.
What is the worst that can happen?
Dongmin spends the rest of the evening pondering that mind-damning question.
🎶
There is a saying that has been dictating Dongmin’s attitude for as long as he can remember. It goes, 'I hate everyone equally'.
In truth, it is a bit exaggerated — not that he’d admit it. For example, he doesn’t hate Sanghyeok or Woonhak. There were times in the past when they would bicker or fight, of course, but it has never become something problematic. They would make up hours later, and that would be the end of that.
Maybe this time is a bit different. Dongmin hasn’t spoken to Sanghyeok since yesterday. He woke up and left the house early. He knew that the dancer didn’t have any lectures today until later, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He didn’t want his best friend to interrupt what he’s currently building up towards. They’ll just talk it out later or something. Go back to being what they used to be. No hard feelings will remain. Simple.
After all, Dongmin hates everyone equally — except for his friends and family, apparently.
However, this morning, before school, that statement seems to be a little different. Today, Dongmin hates two people more than anyone else: Jaehyun and himself.
He keeps telling himself how bad an idea it is over and over again, but his body refuses to listen to his overwhelmed brain and rapidly drumming heart. His legs keep taking him to a person he doesn’t particularly want to see now — or ever.
Jaehyun stands by his locker with his two friends. Thankfully, his girlfriend is absent. According to Dongmin’s observations, the three always arrive early. Donghyun has his phone out and is currently shoving it in Sungho’s face. The older nods along to what he’s excitedly rambling on about, and at one point, he smiles and swats at him, probably because of a tease.
Jaehyun is on his phone. Probably texting Youngji, because he suddenly smiles sappily. Dongmin suddenly wants to turn right back around, then decides he’s already close enough, so he might as well get on with it.
None of the three spare him a glance as he stands in front of them like an idiot. His hand flies up to his ear, and his mouth is plugged with a huge lump that forms in his throat. He’s such a fucking coward.
It’s now or never.
“Hey,” he begins. The three look up at him at the same time, smiles gone, silent. Jaehyun’s eyes widen. Why the hell is he so surprised, of all people? He should be used to people approaching him out of nowhere. His reaction boosts Dongmin’s ego by just a fraction.
He ignores their stares and keeps his eyes on Jaehyun’s. “Jaehyun. Can we talk? Alone?”
Sungho and Donghyun immediately turn their attention to their friend, eyes equally wide. Slowly, their surprised expressions melt into suggestive smirks. Sungho oohs and nudges Jaehyun. Donghyun’s smirk grows wider.
Dongmin wants to murder them both.
After a few seconds, Jaehyun seemingly remembers himself. “Yeah, okay. Is it fine over there?” He points to a secluded corner. The chances of someone seeing or interrupting them are quite low.
“Yeah,” Dongmin says.
Donghyun leans in and whispers something to Jaehyun, who nods. Awesome. They’re making fun of him already. All Dongmin wants to do right now is run into Sanghyeok’s arms and forget this ever happened. His best friend will take him back. Maybe he can get that tutor after all. They can surely survive on bread and tap water for the next few weeks. It’s a typical college student event.
However, asking Jaehyun would be much more advantageous. He wouldn’t need to pay an absurd amount to some guy who might not even teach him well. Swallowing his pride, Dongmin whips around and begins to trudge to the corner that Jaehyun pointed out.
Thankfully, his classmate follows behind him.
“By the way, if you’re here to ask, I’ll let you know beforehand: I’m taken. Sorry,” Jaehyun informs, his signature smile already in place.
Dongmin bristles. “I’m not— What the hell is that supposed to mean? I don’t have a crush on you. Ew.”
“Ouch.” He tilts his head, clearly unhurt. “Alright. Is it because you want something else?”
Dongmin bites his tongue, if only to stop some words he doesn’t want coming out. He doesn’t want to bring it all down now, not when he’s so close to victory.
This is it. This is the moment where he tells Jaehyun that he needs him and has nothing to offer in return. All he can think about is how much he hates himself for getting himself into this stupid mess.
“I need your help with something,” Dongmin starts, starting off vague.
He can’t help but feel another twinge of satisfaction as Jaehyun looks taken off guard for the second time. The crown seems to be slipping further off the king’s head.
“With what?” Jaehyun frowns.
“You know how to cook well, right?” Dongmin inquires, not waiting for an answer. After a brief pause for effect, he drops his request. “I need you to teach me how.”
Jaehyun freezes uncharacteristically. After a few seconds, he begins to laugh, as if he’s trying to cover up a sudden spike of an unwanted feeling inside. Dongmin’s stomach sinks. That was certainly not the reaction he was hoping for. What’s happening? Did Sanghyeok lie to him?
“Oh, sorry,” he says in between laughs, his voice not humored but anxious. “I can’t help you with that.”
The music student looks at him, confused and uncomfortable. “You don’t know how to cook?”
“No, um, I do,” Jaehyun clarifies, laughter slowly disappearing.
If he can cook, why wouldn’t he be able to help him? Dongmin is getting impatient. He sacrificed his sleep to wake up early and risked humiliating himself in front of Jaehyun’s gang. And for what? He’s getting turned down. He regrets listening to Sanghyeok. Was it really out of desperation, or out of spite?
He fights the urge to touch his ear again. “So then… why can’t you help me?”
“I just…” Jaehyun trails off, then settles for a bullshit excuse. “I’m really busy. Sorry.”
He begins to look nervous, as if Dongmin’s words triggered him in some odd way. It’s strange because he’s never seen him so insecure. Something isn’t right. What kind of problems can cooking possibly leave a person with?
No matter. What’s important is Dongmin, his job, and his future.
“Okay. I can spare my evenings,” he challenges stubbornly, folding his arms. He’s too far in to give this up now.
Judging by his strangled expression, that sentence definitely kills Jaehyun inside. He looks so helpless — so unlike himself. “I appreciate you reaching out for help or whatever, but I really can’t.”
Dongmin is baffled. In a matter of moments, things have taken a turn for the worse. Apparently, Jaehyun can cook. Apparently, he doesn’t feel like acknowledging that. Apparently, his classmate is suddenly shyer than he himself is.
Unfortunately, it’s time to initiate Plan B.
“Please,” Dongmin says the magic word slowly. He’s making a total fool out of himself. He knows it, but what other choice does he have?
“What? I said no,” Jaehyun protests, probably wondering why the younger isn’t giving up yet. How magical indeed.
“It’s really important,” Dongmin adds.
His classmate rubs his neck sheepishly. “I know it sounds rude, but that’s kind of not my problem.”
Holy shit. Jaehyun is so heartless. Dongmin just embarrassed himself by begging the one person he despises, and he’s getting humbled too? Absolutely not.
“You’re literally the one person everyone goes to when they need help,” he reasons. “Why the hell are you the student council president if you don’t care about anyone?”
Jaehyun looks taken aback. He raises his hands in apprehension. “That’s not true! You don’t realize how ridiculous this whole thing is. I don’t even know who you are, and now you’re asking me to teach you how to cook? Why do you even need me to?”
Dongmin scoffs. “As if I’d tell you now.”
He flails his arms animatedly, and the music student wonders how people love someone like him. If he did that, he’d probably get bullied until his graduation. “You literally want me to help you! I think I deserve to know.” Jaehyun regrettably makes a fair point.
They’re going around in circles. Dongmin still wants to disappear. Though it astonishes him how unconfident he made Jaehyun become. He doesn’t know what to reply, so he stays silent. The last thing he needs right now is for his request to be denied and for the entire school to know how he’s going to get arrested for breaking the law via a job interview.
“Besides, I’m not getting anything out of it, so…” Jaehyun trails off again. He looks Dongmin over from head to toe, and he suddenly feels very self-conscious on top of his peaking anxiety.
He takes a step back. “What?”
If Jaehyun’s brain were a light bulb, Dongmin is sure it just lit up. “Fuck. You’re Han Dongmin, aren’t you?”
“How do you know who I am?” He says, though it doesn’t take much brains to figure it out. It looks like the ‘Dongmin gossip’ reached him too.
Jaehyun lets out a short laugh of surprise. “Everyone talks about you. You’re that super… passionate music major. You send everyone death stares when they look at you. Like now,” he points at Dongmin’s face, which morphed into one resembling his description. “I heard you’re really good at what you do. Like, really good.”
Woah. Being recognized is one thing, but he definitely did not expect praise to spill out of Jaehyun’s mouth like that.
“Why are you bringing this up?” He demands, emotions swirling inside dangerously like storm clouds.
There is a visible war inside Jaehyun’s head right now. Eventually, the side in favor of Dongmin wins. “I— I’ll help you. I can teach you,” he says eventually, though every word is hard for him to get out.
That’s… the last thing Dongmin thought he’d hear after Jaehyun’s previous response. His heart skips a beat.
Unfortunately, Jaehyun makes a strangled noise before adding, “But I have a condition.”
Dongmin knows Jaehyun is smart. He gets the top marks in his year and never struggles with his exams. What he didn’t care to keep in mind is that Jaehyun is also a business major, which means he knows how to negotiate exceptionally well.
“And what’s that?” He asks, swallowing. He wasn’t prepared for this.
Jaehyun exhales slowly. “Can you teach me how to make music?”
Dongmin’s breath hitches. He looks at his classmate like he just told him the end of the world is tomorrow. Why in the world would Jaehyun want to learn how to produce?
He frowns in trepidation. “Are you trying to make fun of me?”
“What? Of course not! I— Well, I actually kind of envy you, you know. You seem really cool,” Jaehyun assures him, fidgeting with his hands. He’s still a nervous wreck. “It’s kind of complicated, and I don’t exactly want to explain it all right now, but I really need it.”
“Can’t you just buy yourself a tutor with Daddy’s money?” Dongmin scoffs, unable to meet his eyes. He doesn’t want to show just how much Jaehyun’s words seem to be affecting him.
That seemed to have hit a sensitive spot, because Jaehyun goes quiet. When the music student looks up to see why, he finds his eyes containing a hint of sadness. His voice is quieter when he speaks. “It’s not that easy.”
Why is he suddenly so sentimental? Since when is Jaehyun interested in music?
What the hell is going on?
He did agree, though. Technically. All Dongmin needs to do is agree. Commit to teaching this dick some basic music theory, learn how to make food, and get the hell out of there. Like a business deal. He clenches his jaw in frustration. Just bear a few weeks and break it off, he tells himself. If Jaehyun tries something, he now has dirt on him too.
Dongmin’s dignity has truly reached its lowest point today.
“Oh, goddamnit— Yes. I’ll do it,” he gives in.
Jaehyun’s elation outshines the fear in his eyes. He slowly smiles.
“Really?!” The business student extends his hand to Dongmin, who just stares at it, dumbfounded.
“Come on, shake my hand. We’re making a deal,” he urges.
Han Dongmin just did something so incredibly stupid. Sanghyeok is going to bully the hell out of him later, after they made up and Dongmin confessed to him what he’s been up to. He will say he told him that it was the best choice and then tease him about it for months. If Woonhak learns, the teasing will follow him to his workplace.
Though the hardest part was behind him. He got a better job. He just got a tutor to help him do his job well. All he has to do now is put up with Jaehyun mentally. The business student has to be at least tolerable, since he’ll be relying on Dongmin too.
Their hands touch for the first time, and Dongmin’s mind buzzes with dread. He breaks the handshake first.
It can’t be that hard.
“What’s your number?” Jaehyun asks, already reaching into his pocket to fish out his phone. It’s an expensive phone, probably with an equally expensive phone case. Dongmin dictates it to him from memory, then checks it over twice again when his tutor shoves it in his face for him to confirm.
“When are you free?” he asks. “Can we start with the cooking today?”
Jaehyun bites his lip and looks up, humming in thought. “I’ve got football practice today until seven. I think I’ll be free at eight. Is that too late?”
“Nope. Just perfect.”
“Okay. I’ll buy some ingredients on the way home. I’ll text you my address, and you can come to my house,” Jaehyun explains as he saves the contact. “Sound good?” He grins.
Dongmin doesn’t reciprocate. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets and begins to walk away to the part of school where his locker, classes, and Sanghyeok are.
“Mhm. See you after school,” he grumbles.
On the outside, Dongmin may look entirely unbothered. It’s what he’s spent years schooling his resting face into. However, inside, stress claws at him, and he again wishes things could go back to how they were. For the first time since he moved out and started college, he is going to hang out with someone other than Woonhak or Sanghyeok.
Unlike what the assumptions state, Han Dongmin does mingle. He’s going to socialize with another guy, who isn’t Sanghyeok or Woonhak. It will probably land him a thousand new ‘misconceptions’. He knows Jaehyun will tell everyone. It’s no secret. Everyone will think he’s into Jaehyun, and his life will be resupplied with more absurd rumors. His days will become more tedious, as they always do once in a while.
As he stalks the halls and reflects about what he’s just done, his shoulders tense just a little more. He looks down to avoid eye contact with anyone and walks just a bit faster. Maybe he can make up with Sanghyeok now and rant to him about what he’s just done, or get to class a bit early and write more lyrics for yet another song.
The bell rings, signaling to Dongmin that first period begins in five minutes. He and Jaehyun talked for longer than he expected. It brings his mood down tenfold.
This is going to be an incredibly long and exhausting day.