"is that bokbunja?" ren utters simultaneously with jo's verbal epiphany, that it is, in fact, bokbunja.
"why are you drinking boomer booze?" he slips into english as easily as he slips onto the stool next to his companion's, grateful to settle into his first language with no worries about tense or age gaps or formalities. it almost creates a cocoon within the popular establishment, protective and familiar, speaking not just the same language, but the same dialect with the same accent in a way that can only come from having grown up down the street from a conversation partner.
(sometimes it still haunts him, the unsettling, pale look on jo's face when he told him he'd gotten the contract overseas. they were only fourteen, maybe fifteen, and it should've been a day like any other, or as much of a normal day it could be for him to tell his childhood friend he'd be moving indefinitely to game professionally in a country where he barely spoke the language and knew not a single soul save for his coach and the teammates he'd met briefly over facetime. sure, jo's reaction wasn't unexpected for someone trying to congratulate their best friend on achieving the dream that would take them to the other side of the world. but ren still remembers thinking there was something else behind the encouraging smile, something that dulled the bright brown of his eyes in a way that made ren's stomach turn. he had a recurring nightmare for months after that: that'd he'd said goodbye to jo, on the way to the airport, then saw, in his rearview, his friend get mowed down by an eighteen-wheeler, or snatched up by a pterodactyl, or pulled into a gutter by long, shadow claws. sometimes he thinks he still sees hints of the nightmare behind jo's eyes, even now.)
"drink somaek, like a normal tourist." his tone is flat, humor dry, in the way it is when he is most comfortable joking around with whomever dares spar with him. he is grateful for that much, that no matter how much time they spend apart, the pair of them are always able to come back together as if no time has passed at all.
"here," he pulls jo's glass toward himself, adding cheekily, knowingly, "i'll finish this. you get something else for your unrefined middle american palate."
ren glances around only briefly, doesn't see anyone else he recognizes, and breathes a silent sigh of relief that no one here seems to recognize him, before turning his attention back to the other man.
"well, i grew like two inches; i lost all the weight i was supposed to convert into getting swole; and i was dumped twice. simultaneously. oh, also i'm supposed to be taking two different keratin supplements and avoiding empty carbs? so," he ironically raises the stolen beverage in a toast to his friend with a sardonic raise of his brows, "cheers to that."
he takes a long, generous swig of the berry wine, the dessert-sweet tang lingering on his tongue.
"remember when i thought they signed me for my sweet tunes and undeniable musical talent? i remember."
"aaaahhhh," jo makes a face at the grand reveal that he was given an old people's drink, looking like it might come back to bite him if he took his eyes off the glass for even a moment. "boomer booze..." he mutters to himself, half self-deprecating and half-mortified for thinking it was some sort of refined drink that was cool. he could hear the joke in his head now- oh yeah, that's jo, he drinks old people's booze and thinks it's cool.
and it's with this that jo remembers why he's always been thankful for ren; not because ren is necessarily smarter than him (he is, but jo will admit that only when he's likely near his deathbed, or desperately needs an ace), but because ren would know stuff like this, and always has- as his levelheadedness has always been the perfect complement to jo's tendency to dive headfirst into.. well, everything. aside from ren himself, that's one thing jo has missed the most after the years of being physically separated from his best friend, and it brings a warm comfort that he almost forgotten the feeling of.
"but i'm not a tourist," he complains, half whining, though he doesn't protest in even the slightest when ren finishes the bokbunja for him, shaking his head. "you order the next drinks then, know-it-all," he teases.
he listens to the briefest of summaries offered as ren drinks, brows furrowing at the notion of being dumped twice. "uh, what? how...?" the question is left hanging in the air as jo tries to complete the mental math of ren's dating history, and what exactly simultaneously means in that. he's quiet for a moment, as if you can almost see the cogs turning in his mind, before he shakes his head.
"so.. gamer then not gamer then idol, who doesn't do the breaking up but gets broken up with?" jo's confusion is evident, even without the addition of rubbing his forehead trying to figure it out. "you gotta tell me that it was research for your first self-produced album or something... right? this is the part where you do that. you.." he gestures towards ren, "you got broken up with.. twice? did you become a player or something when i wasn't looking?" jo laughs, "sheesh.."
