Chapter Text
“Late shift tonight?” Taeyang asked, tipping his head back over the back of the couch, his hair flopping down as he stared upside down at Jongseob.
Jongseob was focused on his shirt, adjusting the black material until it sat right around his body. The first few buttons popped open and his hair was messy, pulled up just enough to be out of his face. He paused in the hallway, checking his reflection in the mirror hanging above the shoe rack, not even sparing his flatmate a second glance. “Yep.”
Taeyang hummed, sitting up and turning to stare at Jongseob properly. “Don’t you get sick of bartending? Surely it can’t be a good environment with drunk uni students every other night?”
“Uni students only really come in on Fridays,” Jongseob explained, bending down to pull his shoes on. “It’s mostly middle aged men during the rest of the week.” He couldn't be more glad he didn't work weekends. His colleagues always told him wild stories.
“Somehow that sounds worse,” Jiung threw in, his attention still caught on the glowing screen of his cellphone. He was settled in the corner in his favourite armchair, a sure-fire place to find him any hour of the day if he wasn’t in class or arguing with Keeho about something or other.
Jongseob snorted, pulling his laces tight and looping the strings together. “It’s not too bad. Gets annoying, I suppose. They only ever want beer, nothing interesting for me to mix.”
“God forbid a man has a ‘woman’s’ drink,” Taeyang said, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Ah well, I guess it’s money.”
Jongseob clicked his fingers, pointing at his best friend as he stood up. “Exactly. It’s how I pay rent, so stop hassling me about it.”
“Wasn’t hassling, just curious,” Taeyang replied. “What time will you be back?”
“Late,” Jongseob said as he pulled on his windbreaker over his clothes. “Probably past 2am. I have an early lecture tomorrow for Ancient Greek History, so I’m really going to have to hope closing up doesn’t take long.”
Jiung did look up now, peering at Jongseob over the rims of his glasses. He had gotten them recently, the latest thing Keeho had taken to teasing him over. Jongseob still wasn’t quite sure what the twos relationship was, if they were dating or just straight up enemies. He hadn’t had the balls to ask, knowing it would just lead to a long and ridiculously detailed retelling of every single time they had ever pissed each other off. He didn't have the energy to endure that… again.
“You’ll be fine,” Jiung said simply. “You’ve always been good with Ancient Greek History.” Taeyang made a sound of agreement.
“I suppose,” Jongseob shrugged. It was true, something about ancient history, particularly Greek history and mythology, had always come easily to him. He sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of his hand before gesturing back towards the door. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
“Night,” Jiung called.
“Don’t let the beer boredom get the best of you,” Taeyang said.
Jongseob snorted, pulling the door closed behind him. He could only hope tonight would be more interesting.
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He shouldn’t have been too surprised, but still it somehow always got to him. How even a few hours of serving beer after beer after beer could make his mind go so numb.
He found himself daydreaming, lost in his own mind as he stared off into the distance. He had always had a good imagination, entertaining himself with all kinds of stories. It was like falling away from reality, building something else up around himself.
But there was one daydream that he could never quite shake, one that kept replaying through his head like a broken record.
The walls of the bar fell away, the smooth dark oak counter fading into the background. Jongseob found himself in a far away forest, the sun filtering through the leaves above him. He could almost physically feel the drops of golden sunlight littering his skin, dancing across the forest floor.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard a shout, a woman’s voice ringing in his ears. It was caught in his mind, strung between the trees and carried away on the breeze. He lost the words but caught the sentiment.
Where are you?
He wanted to shout out in return, to call the woman over, but his throat felt tight and his words escaped him. He felt stiff like a statue, the sudden weight of loss pressing itself against his heart.
His pulse spiked, a wash of pure panic flowing through his veins, tracing its way throughout his entire body until--
A hand slammed down on the counter before him, a gruff voice catching his attention and dragging Jongseob back to the bar. “Grab me a beer, boy,” the man huffed.
Jongseob blinked out of his trance, a frown fluttering across his expression. His fingers tightened around the material of the cloth he had been using to wipe down the bar. “I’m not gonna get you anything when you’re talking like that. Wanna try again?”
The man grumbled something inaudible, waving a hand out. He was irritated, twitching in his seat. “Can I have a beer please, boy.”
Jongseob discarded the cloth, nodding to himself. “Alright.” He poured the beer, sliding it over to the man.
As he was doing so, he found his eyes trailing up towards the clock hanging on the wall, his stomach sinking to see that it was only just past 11. He still had three hours left of his shift. Three gruelling hours.
He grabbed his cloth again, settling back to work scrubbing the bar’s wooden surface. He had that daydream a lot; always of a woman, a far off figure he could never quite see. He had been having it since his teenage years, but lately it was… different.
It felt like she was really calling to him, pulling at the strings of his mind in a desperate attempt to be seen. To be remembered. Where the hell had they met before? Jongseob couldn’t remember how the dreams started, the first one so long ago that it had been lost to time.
He could almost hear her even now, her voice like a breath against the shell of his ear. He tried to shake himself out of it, his fingers tightening around the fabric of his cloth. He was working, he couldn't keep letting himself get so distracted.
The door to the bar swung open, silver street light illuminating the entrance, caught around a silhouette. Jongseob glanced up, ready for another middle aged man to come sauntering in.
He didn’t expect to see someone his own age, someone dressed in a loose hoodie and jeans, clearly not really prepared for a late night out drinking. Jongseob blinked in surprise, taking a moment to study the person.
Their eyes skittered around the space, glossing over the tables and patrons, the low music thumping along and the hum of half-drunk chatter. Then their eyes landed on Jongseob.
Their jawline was sharp, their skin smooth and unblemished. Their hair fell around their face in waves, dark and unstyled. They looked so casual, so mundane, that Jongseob felt almost dizzy, the contrast so sharp to the rest of the bar.
But really, it was the person's eyes that really got to him, piercing through his heart and into his soul. One was a faded blue, the other a dark ocean brown; heterochromia, Jongseob realised slowly.
The person made their way over, swallowing thickly as they slid down into one of the stools at the bar.
Jongseob had never felt like this before. Like he was about to combust, like something inside his chest was aching and overwhelming. He felt kind of sick, but he pushed through, taking a deep breath and packing all of his emotion away into a box.
It felt like attraction, the delicate pull of his eyes as if they were desperate to take in all of this person, to stare them up and down for hours and just exist within the same space as them. It came with a twin weight, a press against his heart, each beat just slightly out of time. That part of the feeling wanted to pull this person against his chest, arm around their body. Wanted to lock their lips together and--
“What can I get you?” Jongseob asked, forcing his tone to remain as neutral as possible.
Jongseob was on the clock. He was at work, serving drinks. His manager was sitting just behind the door off to the side, working on her computer and keeping an eye on the security cameras. Patrons were milling around, glancing back over at the bar every few seconds.
And, perhaps most importantly, Kim Jongseob was straight. And this person, while they blurred the line between femininity and masculinity just enough to sit between the who categories, they were clearly a lot more masculine, as told by their build and the line of their jaw. They were almost the exact opposite of Jongseob's usual type.
The person was watching him closely now, their eyes flickering up and down Jongseob like they were trying to figure him out. Like they were seeing right past all of his defences and into the very depths of his soul. It sent a shiver down his spine.
“I don’t drink,” they said simply. They had an accent, their words layered and filled with extra sounds, mouth unused to the shape of Korean. It sounded pretty in a way he hadn't expected.
Jongseob blinked, his attention snapping back to the present. “Huh?”
“I don’t drink alcohol,” the person repeated.
Jongseob glanced around at the bar, at the shelves of bottles behind him and the patrons sitting around with half-filled beer glasses. “Okay. I can make something non-alcoholic if you'd prefer?”
“No,” the person said quickly. They stopped, pursing their lips and letting out a heavy exhale through their nose. “I mean I don’t know why I’m here.”
Somehow with every word this ridiculously handsome person said, Jongseob found himself understanding less and less. “I also don’t know. You can leave if you want. No one’s making you stay.”
The person shifted in their seat, turning to stare back at the bar’s entrance. They pointed at it, turning back towards Jongseob. “I was just walking down the street when I felt like I needed to come inside. I can’t… I don’t know how to describe it. I just needed to.”
Jongseob nodded slowly. He wasn’t really sure how to reply to that. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Do you want to drink anything or…?”
“Shota,” the person said.
Jongseob couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Hadn’t this person just said they didn’t drink? “A shot of what?”
The person paused, processing Jongseob’s words for a moment before their eyebrows shot up. “Oh, no. Shota. That’s my name. I’m Haku Shota.”
“Oh.” Now Jongseob felt stupid.
Shota rested their elbows against the bar top, leaning in towards Jongseob. “And what’s your name?”
He didn’t wear a name tag, but his eyes still dipped down like he was checking for one. “Oh, uh, Kim Jongseob.” He cleared his throat, taking a step back and reaching for one of the glasses. “So… a drink?”
Shota’s blue eye twitched and they tilted their head to the side, still considering the bartender. “Kim Jongseob,” they repeated, seeing how the name tasted on their tongue. “We haven’t met before, have we?”
It took Jongseob longer to reply than he expected. Because, no, of course they had never met before. Jongseob would remember someone like Shota, that was for sure.
Still, it took a moment before he managed to verbalise his reply. “No.” He didn’t sound convinced, even to himself. There was something in his chest, a pull he couldn’t quite put into words. He had boxed it in with the attraction, but now that he thought about it, it did feel strange.
He took a moment to study Shota’s face, the shape of their face and the curves of their features. Something about them screamed familiarity, the kind of familiarity you don’t come across in someone you have only just met. The kind that builds over years, residue that builds up over such a long period of time you barely notice it until you’re apart.
Jongseob felt sick suddenly, his stomach churning uncomfortably.
Shota blinked slowly, nodding to themself. “I didn’t think so. I only moved to Korea two weeks ago.” They glanced around the bar, their fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern out on the wood. “Can I get an apple juice? Do you have apple juice?”
“Yes, we have juice.” The instruction brought a kind of relief to Jongseob, taking a deep breath as he got to work. He was glad he had something to do, his hands only shaking slightly as he moved to grab the bottle of juice from the fridge, pouring it deftly into a glass.
He finished quicker than he had hoped, sliding the drink across towards Shota. “Thank you,” Shota said simply, lifting the glass to their lips and taking a small sip. Jongseob had to force himself to avert his gaze.
Slowly, his eyes crawled their way back up, tracing the line of Shota’s arm up to the sparkling glass in their hand and settling finally on their eyelashes. They were splayed out across the softness of their cheeks as they savoured their drink, swallowing thickly.
Their eyelids fluttered back open, gaze locking immediately back onto Jongseob. This time Jongseob couldn’t find it in himself to look away. His chest felt tight, a kind of pull he couldn’t describe.
There was something else, something beneath it all. Beneath even the familiarity. Something that sparkled like gold, old and unyielding and just waiting to be rediscovered…
“Hey!” A shout cut between the two of them, dragging Jongseob’s gaze away from Shota and back towards the other end of the bar. A man was sitting there, waving impatiently. “Bartender! Down here!”
Jongseob pushed himself slowly away from the bar, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Sorry, I just…” He trailed off, not even sparing Shota another look as he made his way back along the bar.
Shota didn’t move for the rest of the night, silently watching Jongseob tend to the bar, nursing their apple juice. The two of them didn’t share another word, but Shota also didn’t leave until closing. When it came time, Jongseob’s manager had to gently ask them to leave.
Jongseob didn’t know what to think or what to feel, dragging his feet as he made his way back towards his apartment. It was 2:30am, well past when he wanted to be back home. He felt like he had unearthed a seed inside him, something that was just beginning to bud.
Absently, he wondered when, or if, he would see Shota again.
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Jongseob kicked at a stone on the ground, huffing to himself as he watched it skitter along the concrete before him. His exam has been alright, just as his friends had told him it would be, but he still couldn’t quite shake the feeling he was missing something.
He couldn’t get Shota off his mind, no matter what he did. He had been staring down at his paper, the words blurring before him, Shota’s sparkling blue and brown eyes swimming in his vision.
But it made no sense. He had never had a patron linger in his mind like this before, like a broken record he couldn’t quite move on from. He felt like he was going crazy.
Jongseob groaned, pushing the grey hood off his head and running his hands through his hair. His glasses twisted on his face, tilting as he knocked them with his arm. After he was finished, patting his hair back down and readjusting his glasses, he shoved his hands down into the pockets of his jersey and continued his journey across campus.
Jongseob was in the second year of his four year Classics degree at Seoul University. He had moved to Seoul for his study, spending his first year in the Uni Halls. That was where he had met Jiung… and subsequently Keeho.
Jiung had been cold at first, but after they started talking, he had showed a whole different side of himself. He and Jongseob had started meeting up one on one, getting a coffee and debriefing after each of Jiung’s lectures. Somehow, Jiung managed to convince Jongseob that this one random guy in his lecture - Yoon Keeho - was personally attacking him.
It wasn’t until Jongseob met Keeho for the first time that he realised Keeho just had a massive crush and teasing was his way of flirting. Jongseob wanted to laugh seeing their dynamic in person.
They had met Taeyang at the local café their gossip sessions took place at. He was a barista who loved to hear all of the drama, and with rent prices so high, Jiung and Jongseob were lucky to be able to rope Taeyang into flatting with them. That was about seven months ago, and Jongseob was beyond grateful to be out of the Halls.
Well, he was slightly less grateful since Taeyang started dating Keeho’s flatmate Intak. They spent so much time together, Jongseob was tempted to ask Intak to start splitting their rent too. Still, he had only walked in on something he shouldn’t’ve once, so he supposed that was another thing to be grateful for.
He huffed out a sigh, letting his shoulders slump. His backpack was heavy on his shoulders, his laptop and books weighing him down as he walked. He reached up, tugging his hood back over his head. He enjoyed the feeling of it, the way it closed him off to everyone’s prying eyes.
Just as he was reaching for his phone to text Taeyang and ask if he was free, Jongseob heard a shout from across the courtyard.
“Jongseob!”
He jolted, fumbling with his phone and almost dropping it awkwardly to the ground. He blinked at the concrete beneath his shoes, glad he had managed to save the device, before turning to find whoever was calling out for him.
It was a surprise to see the same face that had been plaguing his mind. Shota raised a hand to wave as they made their way across the courtyard towards the bartender.
They were dressed similarly to last night, their clothes loose and casual, a beanie pulled low on their head with tuffs of brown hair poking out the bottom. They were smiling widely, but their eyes looked thrown, fluttering awkwardly and never quite settling.
“Oh, Shota,” Jongseob found himself saying. He tried to ignore the weird sensation in his chest, the sharp tugging he couldn't quite put into words. It felt familiar, a much stronger feeling than the night before. He gagged slightly, forcing the feeling down and trying to force his lips into a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Shota countered, shifting from foot to foot. “You study?”
“Yeah, I do.” Jongseob gestured back towards the history block he had just wandered out of. “I’m majoring in Classics. You?”
Shota gripped the strap of their duffle bag tighter and Jongseob's eyes flickering down to the badges littering the black material. There had to be at least thirty of them, namely images of video game characters and icons. Jongseob also saw a few in Japanese and, right in the middle, two pride flags; non-binary and bisexual.
“I’m studying dance,” Shota explained. “It’s my first week. I’m here with a scholarship from Japan.”
Jongseob felt his jaw drop open. “A scholarship from Japan? Woah, that’s cool. You must be pretty good.”
Shota let out an awkward laugh, scratching at the back of their neck. “Ah, I’m alright. But I still have a lot to learn, which is why I’m here.” Their expression turned serious again, something else flickering across their face. “Why do I keep seeing you?”
“Well, we’ve only seen each other twice,” Jongseob replied. He tried to look casual, but if he was honest, he had the exact same question sitting on the tip of his tongue. None of this felt like anything he had ever felt before.
Shota only shrugged, studying Jongseob closely. “I don’t know, it feels like I know you. Do you…? You feel that too, right? It’s not just me?”
Letting all of his air out in one long sigh, all Jongseob could do was nod stiffly. “Yeah. I don’t understand it.”
“Neither…” Shota’s eyes still weren’t settling, skittering around the courtyard at high speed. Jongseob found himself caught once again by their colour, the two opposing shades that somehow matched in such a perfect way. He didn’t even notice he was staring until Shota was clearing their throat. “You alright?”
Cheeks red and heart hammering, Jongseob shook himself out of the trance he had fallen into. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I just…” How was he supposed to explain it? 'I feel a strong pull to the colours of your eyes?'
And then a new thought occurred to him; how was this any weirder than everything else he was feeling? Him, a straight man, feeling so drawn into Shota that it almost felt like attraction? The lingering ache of an explainable ‘déjà vu’? Jongseob supposed that finding Shota’s eyes intriguing was the least weird thing bubbling inside his chest.
“I keep looking at your eyes. Sorry, you probably get this a lot, but I just feel,” Jongseob paused, looking for the right word, “kind of entranced by them. That probably sounds silly--”
“Do you want to get dinner tonight?” The words cut right through Jongseob’s sentence, slicing his train of thought in half. Shota said it so suddenly, their own face reddening as they processed the words. Still, they didn’t back down, clearing their throat and adding, “as a date.”
When Jongseob didn’t immediately reply, Shota continued even further. “I know this is probably pretty sudden, but I feel very attracted to you. If you’re straight, just tell me and I won’t bring it up again, but I get the feeling you aren’t.”
“I am.” The words fell awkwardly from Jongseob’s lips. It hurt like a lie, clawing at the inside of his throat. He ducked his head, taking a shaky inhale before continuing. “I am straight, sorry. I would love to have dinner, but it won’t be romantic.”
To their credit, Shota didn’t look offended at the rejection. They nodded politely, dropping into a half bow as they apologised. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. If you’re still interested in dinner, then it can definitely be platonic.”
Why did that make something twist inside Jongseob’s chest? He liked women, he always had, so why did he have to clench his hands at his sides, forcing his expression to stay neutral.
Shota held out their phone, Instagram opened to the search bar. “Can I get your Insta?” they asked. “Just so we can message.”
Jongseob took the phone, typing his username in; ‘seobject_’. It was one that his friends made fun of sometimes, but it was all in good jest. Besides, it's not like they could say much. Their users weren’t much better.
Once his account appeared, Jongseob hit ‘follow’, immediately fishing his own phone out of his pocket to accept the request. It was from ‘alien.dance_’ which Jongseob thought was cute. He bit back a smile as he requested Shota’s account in return and it was accepted almost instantly. Shota had eleven posts, and a profile picture that made Jongseob smile. They had their pronouns at the top, the little 'they / them' enough to make Jongseob's chest swell with pride. He was glad he had been using the right thing.
Shota let out a sudden shriek, their eyes widening at their phone screen. “I really should get going to my next class, sorry!” Shota said, pocketing their phone and sending a hurried smile in Jongseob’s reaction. “I’ll text you, okay? See you when I see you!”
And just like that, Jongseob was standing alone in the courtyard, his phone still open to the new Instagram profile. He let out a slow breath of air, checking the time. 12:48pm. He had no classes for the rest of the day, and suddenly, he didn't have the energy to text Taeyang either.
That left Jongseob with hours of spare time to go home, lie on his bed, and stare blankly up at the ceiling as he contemplated what the actual fuck had just happened…