Frez acabo de descubrir que te mudaste a tumblr por uno de tus fics en ao3 omfg antes éramos mutuals en twt y a pesar que casi no interactuabamos me dió penita que te s wordearan eras mi sunsun sunwon lovebot 🥲🥲 que bueno que sigas haciendo historias y mandándote brainrots owo me dió gusto encontrarte otra vez <3
holiii! siii, aca andamos aunque nada que ver con lo que tenia en twitter ja. sirve mas bien para postear cositas de vez en cuando y links y asi. muchas gracias por leerme y sabes que mis mensajitos están abiertos!! háblame no muerdo
hello frez!! are you still interested with chismis specifically with the filo enha rpf community!! hahhah nothing just wanna share if youre up for it. i hope youre having a day! whatever kind of day you wanna have! have an ice cream! if you eat ice cream. im eating chocolate ice cream rn. anyway im gonna sleep it's 12:37 am here now. good night!
I'm always interested in chismes no matter the country or language, HIT ME UP! my days have been hella busy at work so a quick break to read some hot goss would be awesome. Thank you 😊
"It's burdensome," Sunghoon finally gets out, equally relieved at voicing out what's been on his mind for weeks and terrified by the reaction of the boy in front of him at the harsh words.
"What is, hyung?" a tremulous voice asks him needlessly.
Sunghoon almost backs off, insists to the other to forget it, but he steels his resolve. It's for the best.
"Your feelings for me," he says, voice ringing painful in the silence of the practice room. "It's burdensome for me that you have feelings for me."
He expects the boy in front of him to protest loudly, to stammer nervously, to shyly look away at Sunghoon's accusations, but he does none of those things.
Instead, he holds Sunghoon's gaze unwaveringly, eyes glittering under the LED lights.
It takes a moment for him to realize that the shine in his eyes are unshed tears and not their natural light hue.
When the other doesn't say anything, Sunghoon balks.
He had expected a fight back, he had come up with all these logical arguments as to why both needed this thing between them to stop. He is not sure what to say now.
"W-we," he starts, voice catching in his throat embarrassingly, "we are in the part 2 of this survival show. We need to focus on getting better and better every day. Our singing, our dancing, our performance — they have to be better than the rest of the remaining contestants or we won't make the cut for debut. You know this, right?"
Silence. Sunghoon is growing frustrated. At himself, at the situation, but more so at the boy in front of him.
"We can't be wasting time in things like these," he chides, gesturing abstractly with his hands. "You understand, right?"
A baleful blink of those eyes that have followed him everywhere lately is all he gets.
"We are going to work hard," he persists, "and make it to the final line up, you and I, and then we'll look back to this and realize that we did the right thing by putting this to rest."
"You," the other boy finally says after a long pause, "want me to stop?"
Something deflates inside of Sunghoon's chest. He thinks it's relief.
"Yes. I want you to stop, Kim Sunoo. Please stop liking me."
A lightning-quick tear streaks down Sunoo's cheek and he shuts his eyes tightly, long eyelashes trembling.
The sight strikes Sunghoon terribly; he does feel sorry, after all, but he needs to nip this on the bud for both their sakes.
Sunoo spends a lot of time around Sunghoon, bickering with him, yanking stories from him that he wouldn't have shared otherwise, getting ready for the day next to him on the bathroom mirror, sharing both meals and exhausted smiles after a full day of practice — and Sunghoon is increasingly spending more and more time of his day thinking about this than he should.
That is his sign to put a stop to this budding thing that, Sunghoon thinks resentfully, Sunoo took care to coax all on his own when he decided to approach him that fateful day and tell him that he wanted to be closer to him like Jake was.
Sunoo wetly shudders and jerks his head in an approximation of a nod before all but running out of the practice room.
Sunghoon does everything in his power to keep his hand from reaching out and squeezing Sunoo's shoulder consolingly or something equally terrible.
When he'd told Sunoo to meet him in this practice room after lights out during dinner, he'd known there was no turning back after that. Things could potentially be awkward between them for a while, but time would surely take care of soothing any lingering hurt away.
Sunghoon has to believe that or else he could've just ruined any sort of relationship with Sunoo for the foreseeable future, and that's not what Sunghoon wants at all.
Sleep doesn't come easily to him that night. Being in the right feels everything but right.
When he opens his eyes the next morning, very much against his will, he has a peaceful few moments where he doesn't recall what happened last night until reality cruelly crashes down on him like a ton of bricks.
He forces himself out of bed and shuffles groggily to the restroom. It takes him a moment to realize that he's looking for a certain someone amongst the boys still loitering in front of the mirror before he shakes himself.
Hurrying to get ready so he can catch a quick bite before he's required to be at the practice room in seven minutes, he bursts into the open dining room and kitchen area and unfortunately makes eye contact with Sunoo first thing.
The other looks at him paralyzed for a second before abruptly standing up, stool almost toppling over. That catches the others' attention, asking him what's wrong. He mutely tells them something, too quietly for Sunghoon to hear, and briskly leaves the room through the other door; Sunghoon is still standing stiffly there before Heeseung prods him, waving a granola bar in his face.
Sunghoon swallows the lump in his throat and accepts it. He had known this would happen, yet it's still awkward. He berates the small part inside of himself that is hurt at Sunoo avoiding him especially since he is the one that (kind of sort of maybe) told Sunoo to do just that, so he has no right to feel this way.
He wonders how dance practice is going to go if this is how they're going to be acting around each other.
He can't help but seek the younger out with his eyes once they're in the practice room—thankfully a different one than yesterday's. He's already warming up next to Jay, the other murmuring something to him. Sunghoon can see Sunoo's expression in the mirror; he looks gaunt, lips unnaturally curled down.
He doesn't expect the other to suddenly lift his eyes up and find Sunghoon's in the mirror. Once again, they're paralyzed at the sight of one another.
It is Sunoo who once again breaks the stare down, busily tying his shoelaces with his head lowered. Sunghoon starts his warm ups in silence, the distance between them like a gaping chasm.
It is surprisingly easy, Sunghoon thinks as the day goes on, for Sunoo to ignore Sunghoon despite being in the same room, covered in mirrors, and being part of the same performance team.
He doesn't look in Sunghoon's direction once for the entire ten hours they push through the grueling choreography, and when they are allowed to take a break, he chooses to leave the room instead of collapsing on the floor like the rest of them.
No one's commented on Sunoo's strange behavior yet, despite it being so obvious to Sunghoon. When they tiredly drag themselves to dinner, Sunoo snags an apple and heads out of the kitchen without a word.
"Sunoo, aren't you eating anything else?" Geonu yells after Sunoo, who's almost out of the room. He half-turns his face and throws them a tepid smile, waving the apple in his hand.
"I'm not that hungry," he blithely declares. "I'll take this apple so i can go talk to my sister for a bit."
"Don't forget you're on dish washing duty today," K threatens lightly, though not jokingly.
Sunoo agrees faintly and leaves, the darkened corridor beyond the kitchen swallowing him up whole.
They all resume their assigned dinner activities, chattering and jostling each other here and there as they prepare and eat dinner.
Sunghoon also happens to be on dish washing duty today. He dreads having to share the space with the other after the day they just had.
He can barely eat before he gives up, happily giving up his portion to Jake and Jay. They enthusiastically dig in as he silently lets the others' conversations wash over him. He's usually one of the more quiet in the bunch, so he's not expected to talk much.
It may be his imagination, but everyone else seems kind of muted today as well.
Finner ends and there's still no sign of Sunoo. Sunghoon resigns himself to having to wash all the dishes and pans on his own when Yang Jungwon suddenly appears next to him, putting on the rubber washing gloves seriously.
"Uh, it's Sunoo's turn to wash the dishes with me, not you," he points out intelligently.
"I know," Jungwon says simply, taking the plate Sunghoon had clutched in his hand. "i'm taking over his duties for today."
Sunghoon simply ohhs, silently scrubbing and rinsing while Jungwon dries and stacks the clean dishes. Sunghoon's head is buzzing with thoughts, resembling a frenzied beehive. He can't get Sunoo's despondent expression out of his mind.
They perfunctorily put away the dishes and are free to do whatever it is they do after dinner.
Sunghoon usually lets Jay tug him back to the practice room, but he is not in the mood today. As he walks to his room, he can't help but slow his pace when he spots an unmoving shape in one of the beds.
It's Sunoo's bed. Sunghoon looks at the time; it's barely eight o'clock. He bites his lip but continues on to his own room where he throws himself on the bed to stare at the ceiling.
It stings, this silence between them. If Sunghoon could fast forward things to where they can exchange words as colleagues, dare he say even friends, he would.
Sunghoon knows he's going to debut, and he thinks Sunoo is too. He reminds himself that his words were a long-term investment in their relationship, and that any initial hurt would eventually pass. Sunoo would thank him later.
With a troubled heart that refuses to be soothed, Sunghoon closes his eyes. The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is Sunoo's tear-stained face from last night. His own eyes sting.
i'm so excited about this new project of mine but so nervous at the same time since it's my first non-enha fic??? i'm even outlining stuff which i never do? new year, new me, baby!
First of all, Hii, How are you? Hope everything is going well.
I was released from the clutches of uni and saw the whole mess like a month later. I was so sad when I saw that you lost your account 😭😭😭😭😭, I've missed you and all your works on tw so much, you're seriously my favorite sunsun and en- writer and it was so unfair what those assholes did to you but I'm glad you still have your ao3 and this new site (created a whole acct just to interact with you).
I'll be looking forward to whatever you write and catching up on all the things I've missed, sending you lots of love!!!!
Hiiiii 🥺 everything's going well, thank you so much!
Uni is a terrifying place, glad to hear you made it through another semester.
Thank you so much for the well-wishes🥺 I'm not as active on here since this platform is a little different than Twitter but I do spend a lot of time talking about my writing here, so welcome!
"It's burdensome," Sunghoon finally gets out, equally relieved at voicing out what's been on his mind for weeks and terrified by the reaction of the boy in front of him at the harsh words.
"What is, hyung?" a tremulous voice asks him needlessly.
Sunghoon almost backs off, insists to the other to forget it, but he steels his resolve. It's for the best.
"Your feelings for me," he says, voice ringing painful in the silence of the practice room. "It's burdensome for me that you have feelings for me."
He expects the boy in front of him to protest loudly, to stammer nervously, to shyly look away at Sunghoon's accusations, but he does none of those things.
Instead, he holds Sunghoon's gaze unwaveringly, eyes glittering under the LED lights.
It takes a moment for him to realize that the shine in his eyes are unshed tears and not their natural light hue.
When the other doesn't say anything, Sunghoon balks.
He had expected a fight back, he had come up with all these logical arguments as to why both needed this thing between them to stop. He is not sure what to say now.
"W-we," he starts, voice catching in his throat embarrassingly, "we are in the part 2 of this survival show. We need to focus on getting better and better every day. Our singing, our dancing, our performance — they have to be better than the rest of the remaining contestants or we won't make the cut for debut. You know this, right?"
Silence. Sunghoon is growing frustrated. At himself, at the situation, but more so at the boy in front of him.
"We can't be wasting time in things like these," he chides, gesturing abstractly with his hands. "You understand, right?"
A baleful blink of those eyes that have followed him everywhere lately is all he gets.
"We are going to work hard," he persists, "and make it to the final line up, you and I, and then we'll look back to this and realize that we did the right thing by putting this to rest."
"You," the other boy finally says after a long pause, "want me to stop?"
Something deflates inside of Sunghoon's chest. He thinks it's relief.
"Yes. I want you to stop, Kim Sunoo. Please stop liking me."
A lightning-quick tear streaks down Sunoo's cheek and he shuts his eyes tightly, long eyelashes trembling.
The sight strikes Sunghoon terribly; he does feel sorry, after all, but he needs to nip this on the bud for both their sakes.
Sunoo spends a lot of time around Sunghoon, bickering with him, yanking stories from him that he wouldn't have shared otherwise, getting ready for the day next to him on the bathroom mirror, sharing both meals and exhausted smiles after a full day of practice — and Sunghoon is increasingly spending more and more time of his day thinking about this than he should.
That is his sign to put a stop to this budding thing that, Sunghoon thinks resentfully, Sunoo took care to coax all on his own when he decided to approach him that fateful day and tell him that he wanted to be closer to him like Jake was.
Sunoo wetly shudders and jerks his head in an approximation of a nod before all but running out of the practice room.
Sunghoon does everything in his power to keep his hand from reaching out and squeezing Sunoo's shoulder consolingly or something equally terrible.
When he'd told Sunoo to meet him in this practice room after lights out during dinner, he'd known there was no turning back after that. Things could potentially be awkward between them for a while, but time would surely take care of soothing any lingering hurt away.
Sunghoon has to believe that or else he could've just ruined any sort of relationship with Sunoo for the foreseeable future, and that's not what Sunghoon wants at all.
Sleep doesn't come easily to him that night. Being in the right feels everything but right.
When he opens his eyes the next morning, very much against his will, he has a peaceful few moments where he doesn't recall what happened last night until reality cruelly crashes down on him like a ton of bricks.
He forces himself out of bed and shuffles groggily to the restroom. It takes him a moment to realize that he's looking for a certain someone amongst the boys still loitering in front of the mirror before he shakes himself.
Hurrying to get ready so he can catch a quick bite before he's required to be at the practice room in seven minutes, he bursts into the open dining room and kitchen area and unfortunately makes eye contact with Sunoo first thing.
The other looks at him paralyzed for a second before abruptly standing up, stool almost toppling over. That catches the others' attention, asking him what's wrong. He mutely tells them something, too quietly for Sunghoon to hear, and briskly leaves the room through the other door; Sunghoon is still standing stiffly there before Heeseung prods him, waving a granola bar in his face.
Sunghoon swallows the lump in his throat and accepts it. He had known this would happen, yet it's still awkward. He berates the small part inside of himself that is hurt at Sunoo avoiding him especially since he is the one that (kind of sort of maybe) told Sunoo to do just that, so he has no right to feel this way.
He wonders how dance practice is going to go if this is how they're going to be acting around each other.
He can't help but seek the younger out with his eyes once they're in the practice room—thankfully a different one than yesterday's. He's already warming up next to Jay, the other murmuring something to him. Sunghoon can see Sunoo's expression in the mirror; he looks gaunt, lips unnaturally curled down.
He doesn't expect the other to suddenly lift his eyes up and find Sunghoon's in the mirror. Once again, they're paralyzed at the sight of one another.
It is Sunoo who once again breaks the stare down, busily tying his shoelaces with his head lowered. Sunghoon starts his warm ups in silence, the distance between them like a gaping chasm.
Sunghoon’s feet had seemed to grow roots that burrowed themselves into the sidewalk’s concrete and down, down to the earth below.
He hysterically wondered if seasons would come and go and he would still find himself immobilized across the street from the cheery front of a nondescript hair salon in Suwon.
He could see some movement inside the store, but he was too far away to recognize if the one person he wanted to - dreaded to - see was there. Sunghoon had not felt this terrified since the first time he’d attended court on his first litigation case as a junior associate.
All the moisture from his mouth had left him then, and he had gripped his brand new leather briefcase for dear life in his hands to hide their shaking from prying eyes. The silk tie around his neck had seemed to tighten around him like a boa constrictor.
He was very much feeling something similar now.
He fished for his phone in his pocket to double-check the address Lee Taecyeon had sent him earlier, though there really was no need. Sunghoon knew this was his hair salon, without a doubt.
As if the name Minty Fresh was not hint enough, the front was decorated charmingly with neatly trimmed evergreen hedges and vibrant flowers despite it being early October. They were arranged intentionally, symmetrically, to be pleasing to the eye. It made the small salon pop from the other store fronts in this busy business district.
He had always been into flowers, Sunghoon remembered somewhat fondly, somewhat pained. He was sure that in some cardboard box tucked away in his old childhood bedroom at his parents’ house, there would be a couple of handmade bookmarks of pressed flowers made for Sunghoon with the tiny initials KSN at the bottom on them.
It was this thought that finally got Sunghoon moving, walking towards the crossroad and waiting nervously for the pedestrian light to turn green. He got a few fleeting glances from passersbies, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.
He knew he looked overdressed in his three piece suit and coat on a Thursday morning, but he had been at the office earlier finalizing some details with the movers and had left in a hurry when he realized what time it was.
The light changed and the small stream of people spilled onto the pavement. Sunghoon was thankful his strides were long; all of a sudden he couldn’t bear the uncertainty of what would await him behind the crystal doors.
He reached the other side of the street and he purposefully strode to the hair salon, sweat beading on his forehead and on the nape of his neck despite it being a gorgeous day out. He did not let himself cower or hesitate any longer; he would rip the band-aid off in one go.
It was possible he wasn’t even there at the moment and Sunghoon would have to come back again some time later.
Sunghoon pulled open the door with a little too much force out of nerves, the brass shopkeeper doorbell swinging and clanking wildly over his head.
The noise startled him, making him jump what he felt were feet in the air, almost making him run back outside. The only thing that kept him rooted was the bewildered looks from the surprisingly full salon customers.
“Welcome to Minty Fresh,” a young woman briskly welcomed him, stepping out from behind the counter.
She was wearing an all-black uniform, short bob of dark hair decorated with eye-catching rhinestone hair clips in the shape of scissors.
“Do you have an appointment, sir?” she politely inquired, quickly assessing Sunghoon up and down.
Whatever eloquence Sunghoon had to develop for work, whatever self-confidence he had grown on the decade he had been off in the States, and whatever script he had planned on following for this all flew out of the window. He felt words tie themselves in knots in his throat, as he had not felt like in a long time.
Sunghoon could see two older women, probably in their 60s, rapaciously keeping an eye on him from their respective styling chairs with twin mint bonnets on their heads.
A younger woman, around Sunghoon’s age, was looking over at him, phone now placed screen down on her leg to stare at the commotion.
Sunghoon once again felt the unbidden urge to take off running rise within him.
“Sir?” the girl called for his attention again, voice now weary.
Sunghoon opened his mouth to get anything out and try to salvage the situation that had quickly spiraled out of his control.
“No,” he finally croaked out, having to embarrassingly clear this throat before continuing, “I don’t have an appointment.”
Four pairs of eyes were pinned to his person.
“I see,” the girl nodded, obviously trying to bring back the sense of normalcy to this whole interaction; Sunghoon appreciated it. “Would you like to make an appointment, then? I am afraid we are quite booked at the moment and can’t take any walk-ins.”
He’s not here, Sunghoon thought. Something dropped in his stomach and Sunghoon was ashamed to realize that what he was feeling was relief. Relief at postponing what needed to be done. Uncertainty could be both torture and a balm.
As long as Sunghoon did not see him, did not meet him, there was no way of confirming his worst fears and he could silence the sonorous clamors of his guilts with Maybes.
Maybe he doesn’t hate me anymore. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten me.
“That’s alright-”
“Now take a seat over by the steamer so we can finish your hair just in time for that important dinner of yours tonight,” a laughing, familiar voice rang sweetly all of a sudden, shutting Sunghoon’s mouth abruptly, teeth clacking.
A wave of vertigo almost made him stumble backwards. Its owner materialized from behind a mint curtain that must lead to a side room that Sunghoon had not spotted when he came in.
Kim Sunoo, in full HD and right in front of Sunghoon’s eyes after more than a decade, looked just like he remembered him and nothing at all like the boy he had been ten years ago.
Sunghoon could tell he had grown taller, but was still shorter than him by at least five centimeters. He had also gotten thinner, but his shoulders had broadened considerably. Whereas he used to sport silky, jet black hair, he now had a full mop of pastel pink hair that curled over his elegant neck.
He had been guiding a woman over to the only other available chair when Sunghoon saw the exact moment Sunoo noticed something was wrong.
Sunghoon believed that slow-mos and tunnel vision were cliche plot devices of chick flicks and not something that happened to people in real life, but he chose the worst possible moment to realize that he had been dead wrong.
He could clearly and oh-so-slowly see Sunoo take in his customers’ faces and naturally turn his head to follow their gazes, which were still trained on Sunghoon. His knees weakened the moment Sunoo’s light eyes set upon him for the first time in a decade. He felt as brittle as fallen leaves crunching under a boot.
He registered the exact moment Sunoo recognized him, expressive eyes revealing his surprise despite the fact that he was wearing a black mask that covered half his face.
Sunghoon tried to greet him, apologize, anything and everything, but it was as if his mouth had been sealed shut, as if he’d made a vow of silence he planned to uphold until his death.
Sunoo was equally quiet, eyes unmoving from Sunghoon’s face. He had pulled back his surprise and shrouded it in mystery, expression now as smooth as a gentle pond.
Sunghoon felt a primal fear as he stared at something that used to be as familiar as breathing to him and now was no longer accessible to him. Had not been accessible to him in the last ten years because of his own choosing.
“Boss,” the girl called, “I was just about to schedule an appointment for this gentleman. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it!”
Now six pairs of eyes were fixed on him.
“Sunoo,” he finally strangled out, a cacophony of ‘Sunoo, Sunoo, Sunoo’ bouncing and banging against his skull, making it hard for Sunghoon to hear the noises around him.
Sunoo did not move a single muscle, as if he had not been addressed at all. He looked like a living, blinking statue, the only thing showing Sunghoon he wasn’t speaking to another apparition being the rise and fall of Sunoo’s chest.
His head and neck were tilted towards him in a once-familiar 45 degree angle. The sight was so reminiscent of the past that Sunghoon’s heart was filled with regret.
“Hi, it’s, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I wanted to-,” he started, words now rushing to pour out of his mouth before this encounter came to an end, “I just wanted to tell you directly. I didn’t want you to hear it from other people first. It would not be right if that happened. It’s better to say stuff like this face to face. I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it from you or anything, making it seem like I wanted to sneak it up on you.”
Sunoo’s sustained silence was unnerving Sunghoon more and more by the second.
When he’d gone over the possible scenarios of what seeing Sunoo again after a full decade of radio silence and the stormy ending of their relationship would entail, he had imagined a torrent of tears, loud (and deserved) verbal abuse, had even felt a phantom pain across his jaw where he pictured Sunoo punching the ever-loving shit out of him.
He had not pictured this sphinx-like Sunoo that awaited for the answer to a silent riddle he didn't have the answer to.
“I am back from the States,” Sunghoon powered on, “for good. My firm is opening a satellite office here in Suwon, and I will be in charge of its operation from here on out. I just moved here officially yesterday. The firm got me a lease on some apartment downtown, about 15 minutes away from here, actually. Your salon is on my way to work, too, apparently.”
More silence.
“I just really wanted you to know. Uh, and I wanted to see you. An old classmate of ours told me you came back here and opened a hair salon so I, I came. To see you. And tell you. I know Jay lives here as well. You remember Jay, right? Maybe we can get together sometime-”
“Yuri,” Sunoo interrupted, eyes still on Sunghoon but now speaking to the girl behind the counter.
Sunghoon saw the girl stand at attention immediately out of the corner of his eye.
“Yes, boss?”
“Could you take over the shop for the rest of the day? I’ll call Minkyung and see if she can come in a little earlier to help you out, okay?”
The girl looked between Sunghoon and Sunoo quickly, clearly squashing the urge to ask more.
“Of course, boss! You go ahead and take care of your stuff, alright? I will man this ship just fine,” she flashed him a thumbs-up.
Sunoo nodded, finally breaking eye contact with Sunghoon and walking over to the counter.
“Be a sweetheart and pass me my helmet from under the counter, please,” he requested, palm outstretched.
The girl efficiently dropped a shiny, black helmet with cat ears in his hand she produced from somewhere below her. That made Sunghoon pause.
“Thank you, Yuri. See you tomorrow. Don’t forget to lock up tonight.”
“Will do,” she saluted him as a soldier would.
Sunoo turned and disappeared inside the room with the mint curtain acting as a door not glancing at Sunghoon again. It all happened so fast that Sunghoon did not have a chance to protest.
He had not wanted to interrupt when the other had been giving instructions to his staff, and he had assumed Sunoo was leaving the store in the employee’s hands to continue their conversation somewhere else.
Maybe Sunoo had gone to the back to get his things.
The girl was also clearly waiting for Sunoo to pop out again, for she was eyeing the curtain while pretending to sort some vouchers into different piles.
The rest of the customers were still decidedly looking over at Sunghoon standing awkwardly in the middle of the foyer. He silently urged Sunoo to hurry back out.
The sudden loud roaring of a bike speeding right in front of the shop made Sunghoon jump and turn just in time to see a blur of blue dash by. He was not completely sure but he could almost swear the rider had been wearing a black helmet with cat ears.
“Oh my gosh,” the girl gasped, running to the window, “he just left.”
Sunghoon closed his eyes in shame. The Maybes he had carefully placed around his heart were falling one after the other like dominoes.
Maybe Sunoo doesn’t hate me anymore.
(He most certainly does.)
Maybe Sunoo hasn’t forgotten me.
(Sunoo probably wishes he had somehow forgotten about Sunghoon altogether.)
Sunghoon had not said a single word of what he had planned to say, and he is not sure it would’ve made a difference either way.
Maybe it was wrong, but a selfish part of him had wanted Sunoo to look past what had happened between them and just be happy to see him. They had been friends before they had been boyfriends, after all. Did that not count for anything?
The other part of Sunghoon was adamant that Sunoo had all the right to act as he pleased after the way the two had parted more than a decade ago. It actually insisted that Sunoo should punish Sunghoon, gain vindication from all the hurt he had caused him.
Sunghoon would turn the other cheek however many times was necessary to make it better. Had he not made that exact resolve when he decided to seek out Sunoo in the first place? He could not give up now that things were not looking favorable.
When the going gets tough, the tough get going.
“Thank you,” Sunghoon said, throwing his shoulders back to straighten his spine. “I will stop by another day.”
The affable girl looked him over with a more calculating gaze than before, probably reaching correct conclusions in her head.
“Take care,” she simply said, tracking Sunghoon’s way out of the door.
His arms got covered in goosebumps even under his coat thanks to the piercing gazes of the women inside the salon stalking his flight through the big window out front. Sunghoon walked as fast as his patent leather loafers would take him.
He would have loved to say that the walk back to his office was relaxing and that he had put in order his jumbled thoughts, but that had not been the case at all. The pit in his stomach seemed to grow inside of him, his steps feeling heavier.
"It's burdensome," Sunghoon finally gets out, equally relieved at voicing out what's been on his mind for weeks and terrified by the reaction of the boy in front of him at the harsh words.
"What is, hyung?" a tremulous voice asks him needlessly.
Sunghoon almost backs off, insists to the other to forget it, but he steels his resolve. It's for the best.
"Your feelings for me," he says, voice ringing painful in the silence of the practice room. "It's burdensome for me that you have feelings for me."
He expects the boy in front of him to protest loudly, to stammer nervously, to shyly look away at Sunghoon's accusations, but he does none of those things.
Instead, he holds Sunghoon's gaze unwaveringly, eyes glittering under the LED lights.
It takes a moment for him to realize that the shine in his eyes are unshed tears and not their natural light hue.
When the other doesn't say anything, Sunghoon balks.
He had expected a fight back, he had come up with all these logical arguments as to why both needed this thing between them to stop. He is not sure what to say now.
"W-we," he starts, voice catching in his throat embarrassingly, "we are in the part 2 of this survival show. We need to focus on getting better and better every day. Our singing, our dancing, our performance — they have to be better than the rest of the remaining contestants or we won't make the cut for debut. You know this, right?"
Silence. Sunghoon is growing frustrated. At himself, at the situation, but more so at the boy in front of him.
"We can't be wasting time in things like these," he chides, gesturing abstractly with his hands. "You understand, right?"
A baleful blink of those eyes that have followed him everywhere lately is all he gets.
"We are going to work hard," he persists, "and make it to the final line up, you and I, and then we'll look back to this and realize that we did the right thing by putting this to rest."
"You," the other boy finally says after a long pause, "want me to stop?"
Something deflates inside of Sunghoon's chest. He thinks it's relief.
"Yes. I want you to stop, Kim Sunoo. Please stop liking me."
A lightning-quick tear streaks down Sunoo's cheek and he shuts his eyes tightly, long eyelashes trembling.
The sight strikes Sunghoon terribly; he does feel sorry, after all, but he needs to nip this on the bud for both their sakes.
Sunoo spends a lot of time around Sunghoon, bickering with him, yanking stories from him that he wouldn't have shared otherwise, getting ready for the day next to him on the bathroom mirror, sharing both meals and exhausted smiles after a full day of practice — and Sunghoon is increasingly spending more and more time of his day thinking about this than he should.
That is his sign to put a stop to this budding thing that, Sunghoon thinks resentfully, Sunoo took care to coax all on his own when he decided to approach him that fateful day and tell him that he wanted to be closer to him like Jake was.
Sunoo wetly shudders and jerks his head in an approximation of a nod before all but running out of the practice room.
Sunghoon does everything in his power to keep his hand from reaching out and squeezing Sunoo's shoulder consolingly or something equally terrible.
When he'd told Sunoo to meet him in this practice room after lights out during dinner, he'd known there was no turning back after that. Things could potentially be awkward between them for a while, but time would surely take care of soothing any lingering hurt away.
Sunghoon has to believe that or else he could've just ruined any sort of relationship with Sunoo for the foreseeable future, and that's not what Sunghoon wants at all.
Sleep doesn't come easily to him that night. Being in the right feels everything but right.
"It's burdensome," Sunghoon finally gets out, equally relieved at voicing out what's been on his mind for weeks and terrified by the reaction of the boy in front of him at the harsh words.
"What is, hyung?" a tremulous voice asks him needlessly.
Sunghoon almost backs off, insists to the other to forget it, but he steels his resolve. It's for the best.
"Your feelings for me," he says, voice ringing painful in the silence of the practice room. "It's burdensome for me that you have feelings for me."
He expects the boy in front of him to protest loudly, to stammer nervously, to shyly look away at Sunghoon's accusations, but he does none of those things.
Instead, he holds Sunghoon's gaze unwaveringly, eyes glittering under the LED lights.
It takes a moment for him to realize that the shine in his eyes are unshed tears and not their natural light hue.
When the other doesn't say anything, Sunghoon balks.
He had expected a fight back, he had come up with all these logical arguments as to why both needed this thing between them to stop. He is not sure what to say now.
"W-we," he starts, voice catching in his throat embarrassingly, "we are in the part 2 of this survival show. We need to focus on getting better and better every day. Our singing, our dancing, our performance — they have to be better than the rest of the remaining contestants or we won't make the cut for debut. You know this, right?"
Silence. Sunghoon is growing frustrated. At himself, at the situation, but more so at the boy in front of him.
"We can't be wasting time in things like these," he chides, gesturing abstractly with his hands. "You understand, right?"
A baleful blink of those eyes that have followed him everywhere lately is all he gets.
"We are going to work hard," he persists, "and make it to the final line up, you and I, and then we'll look back to this and realize that we did the right thing by putting this to rest."
"You," the other boy finally says after a long pause, "want me to stop?"
Something deflates inside of Sunghoon's chest. He thinks it's relief.
"Yes. I want you to stop, Kim Sunoo. Please stop liking me."
Sunghoon’s feet had seemed to grow roots that burrowed themselves into the sidewalk’s concrete and down, down to the earth below.
He hysterically wondered if seasons would come and go and he would still find himself immobilized across the street from the cheery front of a nondescript hair salon in Suwon.
He could see some movement inside the store, but he was too far away to recognize if the one person he wanted to - dreaded to - see was there. Sunghoon had not felt this terrified since the first time he’d attended court on his first litigation case as a junior associate.
All the moisture from his mouth had left him then, and he had gripped his brand new leather briefcase for dear life in his hands to hide their shaking from prying eyes. The silk tie around his neck had seemed to tighten around him like a boa constrictor.
He was very much feeling something similar now.
He fished for his phone in his pocket to double-check the address Lee Taecyeon had sent him earlier, though there really was no need. Sunghoon knew this was his hair salon, without a doubt.
As if the name Minty Fresh was not hint enough, the front was decorated charmingly with neatly trimmed evergreen hedges and vibrant flowers despite it being early October. They were arranged intentionally, symmetrically, to be pleasing to the eye. It made the small salon pop from the other store fronts in this busy business district.
He had always been into flowers, Sunghoon remembered somewhat fondly, somewhat pained. He was sure that in some cardboard box tucked away in his old childhood bedroom at his parents’ house, there would be a couple of handmade bookmarks of pressed flowers made for Sunghoon with the tiny initials KSN at the bottom on them.
It was this thought that finally got Sunghoon moving, walking towards the crossroad and waiting nervously for the pedestrian light to turn green. He got a few fleeting glances from passersbies, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.
He knew he looked overdressed in his three piece suit and coat on a Thursday morning, but he had been at the office earlier finalizing some details with the movers and had left in a hurry when he realized what time it was.
The light changed and the small stream of people spilled onto the pavement. Sunghoon was thankful his strides were long; all of a sudden he couldn’t bear the uncertainty of what would await him behind the crystal doors.
He reached the other side of the street and he purposefully strode to the hair salon, sweat beading on his forehead and on the nape of his neck despite it being a gorgeous day out. He did not let himself cower or hesitate any longer; he would rip the band-aid off in one go.
It was possible he wasn’t even there at the moment and Sunghoon would have to come back again some time later.
Sunghoon pulled open the door with a little too much force out of nerves, the brass shopkeeper doorbell swinging and clanking wildly over his head.
The noise startled him, making him jump what he felt were feet in the air, almost making him run back outside. The only thing that kept him rooted was the bewildered looks from the surprisingly full salon customers.
“Welcome to Minty Fresh,” a young woman briskly welcomed him, stepping out from behind the counter.
She was wearing an all-black uniform, short bob of dark hair decorated with eye-catching rhinestone hair clips in the shape of scissors.
“Do you have an appointment, sir?” she politely inquired, quickly assessing Sunghoon up and down.
Whatever eloquence Sunghoon had to develop for work, whatever self-confidence he had grown on the decade he had been off in the States, and whatever script he had planned on following for this all flew out of the window. He felt words tie themselves in knots in his throat, as he had not felt like in a long time.
Sunghoon could see two older women, probably in their 60s, rapaciously keeping an eye on him from their respective styling chairs with twin mint bonnets on their heads.
A younger woman, around Sunghoon’s age, was looking over at him, phone now placed screen down on her leg to stare at the commotion.
Sunghoon once again felt the unbidden urge to take off running rise within him.
“Sir?” the girl called for his attention again, voice now weary.
Sunghoon opened his mouth to get anything out and try to salvage the situation that had quickly spiraled out of his control.
“No,” he finally croaked out, having to embarrassingly clear this throat before continuing, “I don’t have an appointment.”
Four pairs of eyes were pinned to his person.
“I see,” the girl nodded, obviously trying to bring back the sense of normalcy to this whole interaction; Sunghoon appreciated it. “Would you like to make an appointment, then? I am afraid we are quite booked at the moment and can’t take any walk-ins.”
He’s not here, Sunghoon thought. Something dropped in his stomach and Sunghoon was ashamed to realize that what he was feeling was relief. Relief at postponing what needed to be done. Uncertainty could be both torture and a balm.
As long as Sunghoon did not see him, did not meet him, there was no way of confirming his worst fears and he could silence the sonorous clamors of his guilts with Maybes.
Maybe he doesn’t hate me anymore. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten me.
“That’s alright-”
“Now take a seat over by the steamer so we can finish your hair just in time for that important dinner of yours tonight,” a laughing, familiar voice rang sweetly all of a sudden, shutting Sunghoon’s mouth abruptly, teeth clacking.
A wave of vertigo almost made him stumble backwards. Its owner materialized from behind a mint curtain that must lead to a side room that Sunghoon had not spotted when he came in.
Kim Sunoo, in full HD and right in front of Sunghoon’s eyes after more than a decade, looked just like he remembered him and nothing at all like the boy he had been ten years ago.
Sunghoon could tell he had grown taller, but was still shorter than him by at least five centimeters. He had also gotten thinner, but his shoulders had broadened considerably. Whereas he used to sport silky, jet black hair, he now had a full mop of pastel pink hair that curled over his elegant neck.
He had been guiding a woman over to the only other available chair when Sunghoon saw the exact moment Sunoo noticed something was wrong.
Sunghoon believed that slow-mos and tunnel vision were cliche plot devices of chick flicks and not something that happened to people in real life, but he chose the worst possible moment to realize that he had been dead wrong.
He could clearly and oh-so-slowly see Sunoo take in his customers’ faces and naturally turn his head to follow their gazes, which were still trained on Sunghoon. His knees weakened the moment Sunoo’s light eyes set upon him for the first time in a decade. He felt as brittle as fallen leaves crunching under a boot.
He registered the exact moment Sunoo recognized him, expressive eyes revealing his surprise despite the fact that he was wearing a black mask that covered half his face.
Sunghoon tried to greet him, apologize, anything and everything, but it was as if his mouth had been sealed shut, as if he’d made a vow of silence he planned to uphold until his death.
Sunoo was equally quiet, eyes unmoving from Sunghoon’s face. He had pulled back his surprise and shrouded it in mystery, expression now as smooth as a gentle pond.
Sunghoon felt a primal fear as he stared at something that used to be as familiar as breathing to him and now was no longer accessible to him. Had not been accessible to him in the last ten years because of his own choosing.
“Boss,” the girl called, “I was just about to schedule an appointment for this gentleman. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it!”
Now six pairs of eyes were fixed on him.
“Sunoo,” he finally strangled out, a cacophony of ‘Sunoo, Sunoo, Sunoo’ bouncing and banging against his skull, making it hard for Sunghoon to hear the noises around him.
Sunoo did not move a single muscle, as if he had not been addressed at all. He looked like a living, blinking statue, the only thing showing Sunghoon he wasn’t speaking to another apparition being the rise and fall of Sunoo’s chest.
His head and neck were tilted towards him in a once-familiar 45 degree angle. The sight was so reminiscent of the past that Sunghoon’s heart was filled with regret.
“Hi, it’s, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I wanted to-,” he started, words now rushing to pour out of his mouth before this encounter came to an end, “I just wanted to tell you directly. I didn’t want you to hear it from other people first. It would not be right if that happened. It’s better to say stuff like this face to face. I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it from you or anything, making it seem like I wanted to sneak it up on you.”
Sunoo’s sustained silence was unnerving Sunghoon more and more by the second.
When he’d gone over the possible scenarios of what seeing Sunoo again after a full decade of radio silence and the stormy ending of their relationship would entail, he had imagined a torrent of tears, loud (and deserved) verbal abuse, had even felt a phantom pain across his jaw where he pictured Sunoo punching the ever-loving shit out of him.
He had not pictured this sphinx-like Sunoo that awaited for the answer to a silent riddle he didn't have the answer to.
“I am back from the States,” Sunghoon powered on, “for good. My firm is opening a satellite office here in Suwon, and I will be in charge of its operation from here on out. I just moved here officially yesterday. The firm got me a lease on some apartment downtown, about 15 minutes away from here, actually. Your salon is on my way to work, too, apparently.”
More silence.
“I just really wanted you to know. Uh, and I wanted to see you. An old classmate of ours told me you came back here and opened a hair salon so I, I came. To see you. And tell you. I know Jay lives here as well. You remember Jay, right? Maybe we can get together sometime-”
“Yuri,” Sunoo interrupted, eyes still on Sunghoon but now speaking to the girl behind the counter.
Sunghoon saw the girl stand at attention immediately out of the corner of his eye.
“Yes, boss?”
“Could you take over the shop for the rest of the day? I’ll call Minkyung and see if she can come in a little earlier to help you out, okay?”
The girl looked between Sunghoon and Sunoo quickly, clearly squashing the urge to ask more.
“Of course, boss! You go ahead and take care of your stuff, alright? I will man this ship just fine,” she flashed him a thumbs-up.
Sunoo nodded, finally breaking eye contact with Sunghoon and walking over to the counter.
“Be a sweetheart and pass me my helmet from under the counter, please,” he requested, palm outstretched.
The girl efficiently dropped a shiny, black helmet with cat ears in his hand she produced from somewhere below her. That made Sunghoon pause.
“Thank you, Yuri. See you tomorrow. Don’t forget to lock up tonight.”
“Will do,” she saluted him as a soldier would.
Sunoo turned and disappeared inside the room with the mint curtain acting as a door not glancing at Sunghoon again. It all happened so fast that Sunghoon did not have a chance to protest.
He had not wanted to interrupt when the other had been giving instructions to his staff, and he had assumed Sunoo was leaving the store in the employee’s hands to continue their conversation somewhere else.
Maybe Sunoo had gone to the back to get his things.
Sunghoon’s feet had seemed to grow roots that burrowed themselves into the sidewalk’s concrete and down, down to the earth below.
He hysterically wondered if seasons would come and go and he would still find himself immobilized across the street from the cheery front of a nondescript hair salon in Suwon.
He could see some movement inside the store, but he was too far away to recognize if the one person he wanted to - dreaded to - see was there. Sunghoon had not felt this terrified since the first time he’d attended court on his first litigation case as a junior associate.
All the moisture from his mouth had left him then, and he had gripped his brand new leather briefcase for dear life in his hands to hide their shaking from prying eyes. The silk tie around his neck had seemed to tighten around him like a boa constrictor.
He was very much feeling something similar now.
He fished for his phone in his pocket to double-check the address Lee Taecyeon had sent him earlier, though there really was no need. Sunghoon knew this was his hair salon, without a doubt.
As if the name Minty Fresh was not hint enough, the front was decorated charmingly with neatly trimmed evergreen hedges and vibrant flowers despite it being early October. They were arranged intentionally, symmetrically, to be pleasing to the eye. It made the small salon pop from the other store fronts in this busy business district.
He had always been into flowers, Sunghoon remembered somewhat fondly, somewhat pained. He was sure that in some cardboard box tucked away in his old childhood bedroom at his parents’ house, there would be a couple of handmade bookmarks of pressed flowers made for Sunghoon with the tiny initials KSN at the bottom on them.
It was this thought that finally got Sunghoon moving, walking towards the crossroad and waiting nervously for the pedestrian light to turn green. He got a few fleeting glances from passersbies, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.
He knew he looked overdressed in his three piece suit and coat on a Thursday morning, but he had been at the office earlier finalizing some details with the movers and had left in a hurry when he realized what time it was.
The light changed and the small stream of people spilled onto the pavement. Sunghoon was thankful his strides were long; all of a sudden he couldn’t bear the uncertainty of what would await him behind the crystal doors.
He reached the other side of the street and he purposefully strode to the hair salon, sweat beading on his forehead and on the nape of his neck despite it being a gorgeous day out. He did not let himself cower or hesitate any longer; he would rip the band-aid off in one go.
It was possible he wasn’t even there at the moment and Sunghoon would have to come back again some time later.
Sunghoon pulled open the door with a little too much force out of nerves, the brass shopkeeper doorbell swinging and clanking wildly over his head.
The noise startled him, making him jump what he felt were feet in the air, almost making him run back outside. The only thing that kept him rooted was the bewildered looks from the surprisingly full salon customers.
“Welcome to Minty Fresh,” a young woman briskly welcomed him, stepping out from behind the counter.
She was wearing an all-black uniform, short bob of dark hair decorated with eye-catching rhinestone hair clips in the shape of scissors.
“Do you have an appointment, sir?” she politely inquired, quickly assessing Sunghoon up and down.
Whatever eloquence Sunghoon had to develop for work, whatever self-confidence he had grown on the decade he had been off in the States, and whatever script he had planned on following for this all flew out of the window. He felt words tie themselves in knots in his throat, as he had not felt like in a long time.
Sunghoon could see two older women, probably in their 60s, rapaciously keeping an eye on him from their respective styling chairs with twin mint bonnets on their heads.
A younger woman, around Sunghoon’s age, was looking over at him, phone now placed screen down on her leg to stare at the commotion.
Sunghoon once again felt the unbidden urge to take off running rise within him.
“Sir?” the girl called for his attention again, voice now weary.
Sunghoon opened his mouth to get anything out and try to salvage the situation that had quickly spiraled out of his control.
“No,” he finally croaked out, having to embarrassingly clear this throat before continuing, “I don’t have an appointment.”
Four pairs of eyes were pinned to his person.
“I see,” the girl nodded, obviously trying to bring back the sense of normalcy to this whole interaction; Sunghoon appreciated it. “Would you like to make an appointment, then? I am afraid we are quite booked at the moment and can’t take any walk-ins.”
He’s not here, Sunghoon thought. Something dropped in his stomach and Sunghoon was ashamed to realize that what he was feeling was relief. Relief at postponing what needed to be done. Uncertainty could be both torture and a balm.
As long as Sunghoon did not see him, did not meet him, there was no way of confirming his worst fears and he could silence the sonorous clamors of his guilts with Maybes.
Maybe he doesn’t hate me anymore. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten me.
“That’s alright-”
“Now take a seat over by the steamer so we can finish your hair just in time for that important dinner of yours tonight,” a laughing, familiar voice rang sweetly all of a sudden, shutting Sunghoon’s mouth abruptly, teeth clacking.
A wave of vertigo almost made him stumble backwards. Its owner materialized from behind a mint curtain that must lead to a side room that Sunghoon had not spotted when he came in.
Kim Sunoo, in full HD and right in front of Sunghoon’s eyes after more than a decade, looked just like he remembered him and nothing at all like the boy he had been ten years ago.
Sunghoon could tell he had grown taller, but was still shorter than him by at least five centimeters. He had also gotten thinner, but his shoulders had broadened considerably. Whereas he used to sport silky, jet black hair, he now had a full mop of pastel pink hair that curled over his elegant neck.
He had been guiding a woman over to the only other available chair when Sunghoon saw the exact moment Sunoo noticed something was wrong.
Sunghoon believed that slow-mos and tunnel vision were cliche plot devices of chick flicks and not something that happened to people in real life, but he chose the worst possible moment to realize that he had been dead wrong.
He could clearly and oh-so-slowly see Sunoo take in his customers’ faces and naturally turn his head to follow their gazes, which were still trained on Sunghoon. His knees weakened the moment Sunoo’s light eyes set upon him for the first time in a decade. He felt as brittle as fallen leaves crunching under a boot.
He registered the exact moment Sunoo recognized him, expressive eyes revealing his surprise despite the fact that he was wearing a black mask that covered half his face.
Sunghoon tried to greet him, apologize, anything and everything, but it was as if his mouth had been sealed shut, as if he’d made a vow of silence he planned to uphold until his death.
Sunoo was equally quiet, eyes unmoving from Sunghoon’s face. He had pulled back his surprise and shrouded it in mystery, expression now as smooth as a gentle pond.
Sunghoon felt a primal fear as he stared at something that used to be as familiar as breathing to him and now was no longer accessible to him. Had not been accessible to him in the last ten years because of his own choosing.
“Boss,” the girl called, “I was just about to schedule an appointment for this gentleman. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it!”
Now six pairs of eyes were fixed on him.
“Sunoo,” he finally strangled out, a cacophony of ‘Sunoo, Sunoo, Sunoo’ bouncing and banging against his skull, making it hard for Sunghoon to hear the noises around him.
Sunoo did not move a single muscle, as if he had not been addressed at all. He looked like a living, blinking statue, the only thing showing Sunghoon he wasn’t speaking to another apparition being the rise and fall of Sunoo’s chest.
His head and neck were tilted towards him in a once-familiar 45 degree angle. The sight was so reminiscent of the past that Sunghoon’s heart was filled with regret.
“Hi, it’s, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I wanted to-,” he started, words now rushing to pour out of his mouth before this encounter came to an end, “I just wanted to tell you directly. I didn’t want you to hear it from other people first. It would not be right if that happened. It’s better to say stuff like this face to face. I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it from you or anything, making it seem like I wanted to sneak it up on you.”
Sunghoon’s feet had seemed to grow roots that burrowed themselves into the sidewalk’s concrete and down, down to the earth below.
He hysterically wondered if seasons would come and go and he would still find himself immobilized across the street from the cheery front of a nondescript hair salon in Suwon.
He could see some movement inside the store, but he was too far away to recognize if the one person he wanted to - dreaded to - see was there. Sunghoon had not felt this terrified since the first time he’d attended court on his first litigation case as a junior associate.
All the moisture from his mouth had left him then, and he had gripped his brand new leather briefcase for dear life in his hands to hide their shaking from prying eyes. The silk tie around his neck had seemed to tighten around him like a boa constrictor.
He was very much feeling something similar now.
He fished for his phone in his pocket to double-check the address Lee Taecyeon had sent him earlier, though there really was no need. Sunghoon knew this was his hair salon, without a doubt.
As if the name Minty Fresh was not hint enough, the front was decorated charmingly with neatly trimmed evergreen hedges and vibrant flowers despite it being early October. They were arranged intentionally, symmetrically, to be pleasing to the eye. It made the small salon pop from the other store fronts in this busy business district.
He had always been into flowers, Sunghoon remembered somewhat fondly, somewhat pained. He was sure that in some cardboard box tucked away in his old childhood bedroom at his parents’ house, there would be a couple of handmade bookmarks of pressed flowers made for Sunghoon with the tiny initials KSN at the bottom on them.
It was this thought that finally got Sunghoon moving, walking towards the crossroad and waiting nervously for the pedestrian light to turn green. He got a few fleeting glances from passersbies, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.
He knew he looked overdressed in his three piece suit and coat on a Thursday morning, but he had been at the office earlier finalizing some details with the movers and had left in a hurry when he realized what time it was.
The light changed and the small stream of people spilled onto the pavement. Sunghoon was thankful his strides were long; all of a sudden he couldn’t bear the uncertainty of what would await him behind the crystal doors.
He reached the other side of the street and he purposefully strode to the hair salon, sweat beading on his forehead and on the nape of his neck despite it being a gorgeous day out. He did not let himself cower or hesitate any longer; he would rip the band-aid off in one go.
It was possible he wasn’t even there at the moment and Sunghoon would have to come back again some time later.
Sunghoon pulled open the door with a little too much force out of nerves, the brass shopkeeper doorbell swinging and clanking wildly over his head.
The noise startled him, making him jump what he felt were feet in the air, almost making him run back outside. The only thing that kept him rooted was the bewildered looks from the surprisingly full salon customers.
“Welcome to Minty Fresh,” a young woman briskly welcomed him, stepping out from behind the counter.
She was wearing an all-black uniform, short bob of dark hair decorated with eye-catching rhinestone hair clips in the shape of scissors.
“Do you have an appointment, sir?” she politely inquired, quickly assessing Sunghoon up and down.
Whatever eloquence Sunghoon had to develop for work, whatever self-confidence he had grown on the decade he had been off in the States, and whatever script he had planned on following for this all flew out of the window. He felt words tie themselves in knots in his throat, as he had not felt like in a long time.
Sunghoon could see two older women, probably in their 60s, rapaciously keeping an eye on him from their respective styling chairs with twin mint bonnets on their heads.
A younger woman, around Sunghoon’s age, was looking over at him, phone now placed screen down on her leg to stare at the commotion.
Sunghoon once again felt the unbidden urge to take off running rise within him.
“Sir?” the girl called for his attention again, voice now weary.
Sunghoon opened his mouth to get anything out and try to salvage the situation that had quickly spiraled out of his control.
“No,” he finally croaked out, having to embarrassingly clear this throat before continuing, “I don’t have an appointment.”
Four pairs of eyes were pinned to his person.
“I see,” the girl nodded, obviously trying to bring back the sense of normalcy to this whole interaction; Sunghoon appreciated it. “Would you like to make an appointment, then? I am afraid we are quite booked at the moment and can’t take any walk-ins.”
He’s not here, Sunghoon thought. Something dropped in his stomach and Sunghoon was ashamed to realize that what he was feeling was relief. Relief at postponing what needed to be done. Uncertainty could be both torture and a balm.
As long as Sunghoon did not see him, did not meet him, there was no way of confirming his worst fears and he could silence the sonorous clamors of his guilts with Maybes.
Maybe he doesn’t hate me anymore. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten me.
“That’s alright-”
“Now take a seat over by the steamer so we can finish your hair just in time for that important dinner of yours tonight,” a laughing, familiar voice rang sweetly all of a sudden, shutting Sunghoon’s mouth abruptly, teeth clacking.
A wave of vertigo almost made him stumble backwards. Its owner materialized from behind a mint curtain that must lead to a side room that Sunghoon had not spotted when he came in.
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