it begins on a default timeline of niceness.
not interest, nor attraction, neither of two and nothing combined. but rather it’s the flattery that keeps curiosity afloat. push and pull, repel and engage until the fun starts to die out like the butt of a cigarette. weak, all smoked through until it can’t go through another inhale no matter how many colorful lighters a pocket can hold.
that’s how it’s starting to feel. here, and now after luca hits the blue send button, the response reading: “haha yeah i’m off at six come on down only if you want to”. the last five words glosses over the immediate, passive unenthusiasm. it’s serving its purpose as indicators when a voice can’t be heard, but typing remains all the same. the formula is simple: when chased, keep them waiting. for every readily prompted message they send, keep them apart. twenty minutes, ten minutes, maybe or sometimes within the five minute mark so intentions are blurred between kindness and the decency to owe someone a text. long enough to also blow them with a “sorry i fell asleep last night haha work was tiring me out”, and it’s never the case. never was.
luca slumps in the seat of his car. a dull ache nestles on one side of his head, the aftertaste of spearmint gum clicking to his teeth remains a rubbery lather. he sits, and sits, and sits and stares at the concrete nothingness right before him until the fluorescent lighting on his phone brightens half of his face. he knows it’s from an unsaved number and wills himself to get out of the vehicle, rush up to his apartment and throw the evening away to a man who’s socially signal deficient.
the car beeps shut and luca walks semi-briskly to the elevator. the shadow of another’s figure meets his eye. the entire getup, the business bag (not sure if it’s a briefcase, that’s his own fault), the haircut from the back of his head, it’s all but unknown. the new balances on his feet hastens.
“hey, sunghyun right? hey, hey,” luca works himself around sunghyun’s side and towards the front. “we’re friends, and you’re a good person, right? okay, cool, ‘cause listen, i’ve got this guy coming over and i’ve tried everything in the book. told him i couldn’t meet up with him on multiple occasions ‘cause my cat died, my car keeps breaking down, i got food poisoning for two weeks, you get the idea—i can’t shake him off.” he’s nearly out of breath until he riddles park sunghyun for belly laughter, “so i kinda need you, not in the ‘fall and i can’t get up’ kinda way, but the ‘i’m kinda talking to somebody but we don’t have anything serious at the moment because we’re happy being friends’ way.”
some silence. a quiet heartbeat or two.
“..in return i’ll give you my netflix password, if that’s cool with you?”
there was a homeroom teacher back when sunghyun was just a high schooler, who had written a comment on one of his report cards, that the young man was too helpful. and while the spirit of good deeds remains positive, his teacher had cautioned that it can consume his own needs.
unfortunately, sunghyun had found the advice preachy — some used cigarettes, alcohol, or video games for a dopamine fix, on the other hand, he could not shake the thrill of completing a request.
which lands the man here. sunghyun at his lowest — 12 hours of red alerts, screaming babies and parents in his ear, and unsure residents looking up at him with uneasy expressions, his brain feels as though they have been plucked out, worn thin by some unknown pressure. the surgeon’s feet ache and he wonders if they have been replaced by the feet of a man who had been wandering the desert’s sands for a month with no rest.
the idea of just throwing himself on his bed without a proper shower or meal seems like heaven. only an elevator ride away, only 10 more minutes of this half-baked conscious. only a few more floors be-
the daydream of his plush sheets is interrupted by an unfamiliar voice calling out for a park sunghyun. there must be another park sunghyun in the building, yes perhaps there was, who just happened to be in the garage at the same time as his.
his steps are stalled, hindered by a willowy white man with dark hair — he’s suddenly reminded of a horror character his sister was fearful of as a child. what was it? lankyman?
the english starts to blur and in sunghyun’s exhausted state the words and meanings buffer, but he manages to catch a phrase — one that perks up his energy “you’re a good person, right?” ah. well, how can he deny a request when this man was so kind.
“you want me to…” his mind buffers once more, the silence between them linger as sunghyun refocuses, “ you want me to pretend to uh..be with you to get this guy on a dating app off your back?”
this wasn’t the first time he had been asked for this task. unassuming and over-eager to help, many friends had asked sunghyun to pose for a photo, to scold someone over the phone, or something similar to shake off an unwanted suitor.
this however was the first time a person he did not know had asked him for the favor.
well, he heard ted lasso was good. he has done weirder things before.
“make it apple tv.” sunghyun says, not sure why the image of his old homeroom teacher comes to mind, but nonetheless he gives a worn-out smile to the other man. “but you never introduced yourself, i would find it a bit tactless not to know the name of ‘the not so serious person who i’m talking to’, so before we go meet up this guy.”
unfortunately his bed would have to wait.
