The slouched figure across him reminded Sehun of his younger days; of the days when innocence was not something that he’d possessed anymore seeing that he’d sold it to the devil in exchange for his survival, but the concept of losing his head to something as simple as fluids poured from intricately designed bottles that seemed luxurious was terribly foreign for the seventeen year old. He wondered if this guy was even older than that, for the features retained such a youthful impression that palpably emanated the purity as well as naïveté, but there was something about the almost petite (he was probably around ten centimeters shorter than Sehun, from what he’d observed, and looking even smaller after settling himself on the barstool) frame that whispered hints of masculinity that only grown-up teenagers or youths in their twenties owned. The aura that he oozed, along with his uncertainty and cluelessness in general, however, mirrored that of Sehun’s when he, for the first time in his life, had walked into a club’s bar with the intention to try and comprehend why those people in the movies were often pictured inebriated.
Avalon had always been murkier than Dovetail, the building more decrepit and the stale taste of sweat and pheromones and libido was thicker. He recalled how his had heart pounded against his ribcage the moment he’d occupied the tall seat, feeling uncomfortable as he’d attempted to mask the amateur guise that he’d certainly been donning since the moment he’d entered the establishment for real, not simply lingering outside the backdoor after dropping his mistress or waiting for her to finish her shift. He remembered the first time the liquor had greeted his taste buds, travelling down his tongue and scorching his esophagus in its wake, the trail had reminded him of gasoline smell. One experience was enough for him to dismiss the idea of basking in the romanticism offered by shots, and he’d asked for beer instead, hoping that the amber liquid would provide him a better flavor for he’d been desperate to understand the compulsion that came along with drinking his night away, stumbling to return home for his head couldn’t think straight anymore, inundated by the waves of artificial bliss and release. Beer had been slightly more tolerable, the sensation wasn’t as scorching and there had been an actual flavor to it, although he hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what it was—it was slightly sour, almost bland—and upon believing that it had been a beverage that he’d be able to down without much cringing, he’d ordered one after another. Four bottles, and he’d sprawled himself over the countertop, murmuring the name of his mistress to the bartender when asked, and it had been miraculous how he’d been conscious enough to form the name albeit unclearly, seeing that alcohol did shut down his system real fast.
Whatever happened, he hoped that this guy across him wouldn’t share the same experience as him for it hadn’t exactly been something worth reminiscing, just like how his first encounter with sexual intercourse was. He watched as the other male clutched the menu in such an intense focus, clearly unnecessary but he was certain that this patron’s head was being occupied by more thoughts apart from the list of drinks before his eyes. His wide eyes swept the laminated menu, sometimes fixed on a certain patch of it, mulling over his choices. When he finally lifted his head, the same hesitation still painted his demeanor, and the order was placed with such vacillation that made Sehun question himself whether this customer did really want his drink or if he was just doing it based on conformity set by the society of what one should do when they were visiting a bar. Sehun nodded as an implication of his grasping what the other male wanted, grabbing his metal container before pouring the juice as well as the vodka into the shaker. The customer’s comment amused Sehun for some reason, and he was sure that mirth flashed across his face despite the absence of an actual smile. “We can mix any juice with alcohol if you want,” he said as he rattled the container, the ice cubes creating rumbling sounds in the confined space. “It makes it more… bearable, if I can say.” He despised the horrid trace that the alcohol, unadulterated and naked, left in his mouth—dreaded the way it remained in the crevices of his orifice, so the juice totally made it a lot more acceptable for him.
It was interesting to see Sehun work; his hands were sure, his strides to grasp at the drinks necessary to make the melon ball confident, and all the while his eyebrows remained creased. Kyungsoo wouldn't say they were creased in concentration, however, as it seemed almost as if making drinks was as easy as breathing to the man, which made the writer wonder exactly how long he had been a bartender for. He seemed to be of a decent age, though a year or two younger could easily make it illegal for him to have such a profession and be surrounded by alcohol as he was currently. But this job couldn't have been acquired recently, as Sehun looked as if he knew the place so well he could be blindfolded and still be able to manage impeccably. This only further made him inquisitive about his back story, though Kyungsoo was still too conscious about overstepping boundaries to let the questions tumble from his lips.
He wondered if the alcohol would be able to loosen his tongue enough, to make him so inebriated that question after question would leave him. Kyungsoo didn't like the thought of that, deciding to do his best to drink only one glass of the concoction. That way, he should be sober enough to get home in one piece without ending up passed out in some back alley for someone to find. Or, worst-case scenario, end up in the hands of some nefarious gang member who was all too trigger-happy or what say you. The writer wasn't sure what a gang member would even do to someone like him but he knew that it wouldn't be anything, well, good. Of course not. Both Red Crests and Black Vipers were known to be gangs to mess with, not to mention that there was talk about two more gangs having joined the fray: the Triads and the Yakuza, if memory served him well. From China and Japan respectively. And here Kyungsoo was, in Eastern Seoul where the Red Crests and now the Triads ruled. He really was in over his head.
As Sehun made the melon ball, he surprisingly began to talk, voice subdued and more or less calm. Although, he sounded somewhat amused, his expression twisting a bit to prove the same, and Kyungsoo supposed this was emotion enough. The fact that he had only spoken up about the drink had washed away the pleasant surprise, though some of it came seeping back when the bartender actually divulged information about his preference on the matter. It wasn't much but it was a start, especially considering that they didn't know one another all too well. Progress was progress, so the writer couldn't complain. And, to add, there wasn't really anyone to complain to.
He furrowed his eyebrows in thought of another juice he might like to have mixed in with the alcohol, though came up empty. What kind of juice would taste good with vodka anyway? He obviously had no idea, novice to all things alcoholic that he was, so perhaps it was best to play it safe and go with the description of the drink given to him in the menu. "No, no. I'll, uhm, stick with the pineapple," he answered hesitantly. "I haven't had pineapple juice a lot but I remember liking it, so it shouldn't be...well, too bad mixed with the vodka."
As the bartender continued to make the drink, adhering to his words, Kyungsoo played with the corner of the menu. The sharp edge of the laminated page dug into his thumb though it did not cut him; it was more of an unpleasant jab than anything. Kyungsoo was just going to let the silence take over things for him when he decided that it wouldn't hurt to try and keep the meagre conversation going, even if it was about something he had no idea of. "What do you mix your alcohol with? Your, uh, favourite juice or whatever," he babbled, before pausing and reconsidering. "Actually, speaking of, do you even like alcohol to begin with?"
Perhaps it was a stupid question to ask--who works in a club as a bartender if they don't like alcohol to begin with?--but it was a safe one to ask. Inquiring about Sehun's past was too personal, asking about a favourite colour too childish and out of the blue, and so the favourite juice he mixed alcohol with or simply whether he enjoyed drinking alcohol would do. It wasn't something the other man could get offended about unless it brought back memories better left in the past, which he hoped wouldn't happen. Reminiscing about bitter memories was something Kyungsoo would find himself every now and then subjected to: it wasn't fun whatsoever. He was sure it was the same for Sehun, who worked in a bar situated in gang territory.
It seemed that no matter how far the conversation progressed, Junmyeon would always find himself in the same place: three paces into the center of Awkward Island and six hundred miles away from a world where he could stare hard enough at a book to disappear into it. Where had he stepped wrong, anyway?
Maybe if he concentrated hard enough on the books, he could pretend that he hadn’t heard Kyungsoo and thus avoid another opportunity to respond and subsequently fail at doing so. But that would maybe be even more awkward, and everything was just so awkward, and all of a sudden it was entirely tempting to excuse himself and run into the bathroom and hyperventilate until he could coherently congratulate himself on holding the longest conversation of his life and run home. But that was even more awkward! Why was he so awkward?
He’d been so concentrated on blaming himself for being awkward that he’d almost not noticed that Kyungsoo was speaking—which, now that he thought about it, had been one of his plans albeit not exactly as he expected it to go. Something caught his attention, however small the detail, and a faint fluttering of relief settled upon noting that he had chosen the right time to pay attention. This librarian, despite his awkwardness and somewhat nervous habits, had turned out delightfully interesting. Usually, Junmyeon would end up disappointed after thinking such a thing—after all, people who seemed interesting at first were not necessarily so—but thus far, Kyungsoo did not seem to be proving the hypothesis otherwise, and Junmyeon was thankful for it.
"There’s a lot of fun in challenge, isn’t there?" he replied, smirking slightly as he tapped the spines of one of the books and then took it from the shelf to read the summary. The faintest bit of condescension crept into his voice; though when outside of work his ego tended to stay rather muted, he couldn’t help but speak his mind on the subject. "I think the majority of people fail to recognize how effective challenges are at quenching boredom. Then again, those people tend to be uninteresting." He clicked his tongue, an air of nonchalance following as he tucked the book under his arm and then glanced at Kyungsoo with a grin before looking for another. "Thank you for not being one of those people."
And really, Junmyeon was thankful. Being surrounded by dull, one-dimensional idiots all the time was beginning to irritate the detective so much that it might have begun to take a toll on his psyche had he not had enough time for himself. Kyungsoo was a breath of fresh air—or at least he was now, seeing as he hadn’t proven himself to be a completely boring person—someone who would remind him that although a very large fraction of the world was composed completely of empty-headed drones, there were people still in existence who could capture his attention and make him feel as if he wasn’t wasting time by spending it not as a hermit.
So when Kyungsoo spoke again, Junmyeon expected something profound to come out of his mouth—something unique and inquisitive about the nature of today’s thinking processes gravitating towards different nuances in the modern show rather than the novels that had captured the hearts of so many when the novels were more popular. Instead, the librarian’s voice began to almost falter in its certainty, as if forced, and the topic began to narrow itself down in a completely different direction and Junmyeon was beginning to get rather confused as to where this was goi—
Homoerotic… subtext…?
It was quite obvious from the strange progression of the topic and Kyungsoo’s voice that the librarian was trying to get at something that was no longer entirely about Sherlock, or even about Sherlock and John. The gears began to grind again, attempting to piece together what information he might have gathered before that would pertain to such a subject of homoerotic subtext in the context of their conversation. Rewind to the beginning of the conversation. Only facts, no inferences. Pupils dilated—still dilated—lots of enthusiasm, “a little bored until you showed up,” lots of stuttering (well, you were stuttering too Junmyeon), knowing your age—yeah, really why did he know that?—he also called you cute—where is this even going? This is going nowhere. This has nothing to do with homoerotic subtex—oh. Oh. Wait no. What. DOES HE THINK I LIKE HIM?!
"That’s a rather particular thing to focus on," he noted, turning from the shelf and staring at Kyungsoo a little quizzically before opting to ignore any previous observations (they seemed completely nonsensical to him after all, he was never one to understand the art of having crushes) and focusing on just Sherlock and John. His voice might have come across as a little skeptical, and he chose them carefully, slight hesitations occurring here and there as he spoke. "Well, now that I think about it, they do make quite a good team. This homoerotic subtext you speak of is much more apparent in the show than in the books, obviously because the subject is a contemporary thing but…” He trailed off, actually thinking about it now as his voice picked up again and he began to actually seem enthusiastic about the idea. ”You know, now that I really think about it, I’ve never been one to enjoy the Sherlock and Irene or John and Mary pairings in any adaption of the series. It’s always been obvious to me that John and Sherlock are the ones who are truly inseparable, you know?” Laughing slightly, he raised an eyebrow and moved the book under his arm to his hands, tracing the edges slightly. ”So yes, I suppose there is a bit of, er, homoerotic subtext there. Why bring this up all of a sudden?”
For a moment there, Kyungsoo thought that perhaps the detective would keep staring at the books forever, wondering if it was a signal or invitation for him to make himself scarce and get out of his hair (which, he had to admit, looked really good--he couldn't help but wonder what would it feel like to run his fingers through it). Honestly, the man was staring at the books so intensely it was almost like he was waiting for them to reveal to him the reason for life or something else both parts mystical and completely bizarre.
However, thankfully, Junmyeon seemed to suddenly spur to life as he grasped a book and pulled it out from the shelf, glancing it over. The librarian continued to stare at the man while his hands seemed to have a mind of their own, fingers intertwining and allowing the thumbs to war freely with one another, tilting his head as he listened to Junmyeon's response. When the detective called him interesting, his face went slack and his eyes widened--his heart began to beat significantly faster, almost akin to a drum. Kim Junmyeon found him interesting. Him, of all people. Do Kyungsoo. He was caught between laughing, perhaps even calling Junmyeon out on his hilarious joke, or squealing girlishly at the fact that his crush actually found him interesting.
But, he had to admit, that was rather surprising in itself. When he talked of 'uninteresting people', Junmyeon sounded exasperated, full of disdain even, which reminded him very much of Sherlock from the BBC show. He raised an eyebrow at the thought, head tilting further to the side as he watched as Junmyeon pursued another book that might be able to catch his attention. This was a side of him that Kyungsoo hadn't uncovered until now, the side that seemed to abhor, well, boring people. Which was rather ironic because, really, Kyungsoo was one of those boring people. Now it was only a matter of time Junmyeon figured this out for himself, Kyungsoo mused sadly.
"Yes, um, I have to say that there is a lot of fun in challenges. At least, when it comes to writing. For example, there's no fun in the challenge that comes from being social or athleticism--for me, anyway," he joked, though it seemed to fall somewhat flat like all of his jokes do, half-hearted or otherwise. "But thank you for the sentiment, though I wouldn't agree: I'm not all that interesting. Or, well, I'm as interesting as an anti-social librarian who enjoys to write and watch a multitude of shows gets."
He shrugged his shoulders then, attempting to act nonchalant, even though he felt the exact opposite of nonchalant. Inside, he was mess of emotions, of doubt. Would Junmyeon think that he was trying to act modest and be annoyed? Or would he just think he was being too self-deprecating and be annoyed still? Or would he think Kyungsoo to be annoying and be annoyed? Would he feel anything other than annoyed when it came to the librarian's annoying response?
Although, it was the detective's reply to Kyungsoo's 'subtle' question regarding Sherlock and homoerotic subtext that caught the librarian's attention the most. It seemed obvious that he was taken aback, not to mention unsure of how to answer as the slight pauses between his words seemed to suggest. And Kyungsoo had definitely caught the funky stares--yes, funky--he was receiving from him. It wasn't difficult to see that Junmyeon was bewildered by his question, not to mention the fact that Kyungsoo had worded his question so...abnormally.
Honestly, Kyungsoo? he thought crossly to himself. HOMOEROTIC SUBTEXT? Who the hell actually uses that in casual conversation, not to mention when talking to their crush? This is your first time talking with the guy; there is no need to bring up something like that! Wait until you've conversed a little more, and definitely not spring it up so randomly or...weirdly. Oh God, what does he think of me now? He probably thinks I'm some sort of freak or--or--a fan of homoerotic subtext or whatever you call it! This is it. He's never going to come to this library again. He's going to avoid me for THE REST OF HIS LIFE.
The librarian was panicking inwardly, though did his best not to allow his panic to show on his face. Instead, he chuckled somewhat awkwardly and used a hand to rub his arm sheepishly. "No reason!" he squeaked, clearing his throat afterwards. When did his voice become so high-pitched? He was never going to come out of this conversation alive and with all of his sanity intact. "Uhm, I suppose that I just go on the internet a lot these days. You could say I'm a bit, uh, bad when it comes to social situations, as you've already figured out. But Sherlock and John's, er...chemistry together"--you're doing good Kyungsoo you haven't mentioned homoerotic subtext again so that's good keep your petty attempt at normalcy going--"is something that seems to come up a lot. Not to mention there's a lot of people who support them as a couple who watch the show. So I suppose I was just wondering what your thoughts were on it. From your admittance to the fact that you don't really support Sherlock and Irene or John and Mary, I suppose that you don't exactly have an aversion to the pairing."
The younger male shrugged his shoulders, hoping that he looked casual enough. "It's just an interesting topic to me, really, hence I wanted to get your opinion on it. I just hope I didn't spring it up on you too, um, randomly." Even though he totally knew he did, but what can he say? He's a man in love. Or, uh, with a crush. Whatever.
With power came certain advantages. It was because of his status as captain that Baekhyun was able to roam around all day and actually attend university only being called in case of extreme emergency. They knew better than to disturb him for minor business. His lieutenant had came to Korea with him and he was more than capable of handling things during the day. Major deals were usually happening during the evening or the middle of the night anyway. This meant that Baekhyun had more than enough time to work on his school projects and freak out like any other university students over the amount of work they demand of them. It also meant that he had time to go shopping and indulge in little things that were making him happy. Buying new books was one of those things.
He had found the small bookstore by chance on a day where he had been taking a walk around an unfamiliar neighborhood. Exploring new neighborhoods was actually part of his job description because if war was to break out, he had to know the area he would be in quite well. He didn’t like those big bookstores that have multiple floors and where it’s almost impossible to get a good book recommendation because for most employees, working there is just a way to earn money and they don’t really take the time to read anymore. He liked the smaller ones because everything was cramped and there was barely enough space to move around. It felt more welcoming and he always felt like the persons working there were genuinely looking forward to helping him find a good book to read. One that he would perhaps end up cherishing and passing down to his children one day.
It was his second time going there and the woman at the counter recognized him because the last time he had been there, he had spent at least an hour just discussing with her and asking her questions about some of the books he had been interested in. She greeted him by his name and asked him about the books he had bought the last time. After talking to her for a few minutes, he excused himself so he could go on a hunt for new books and she let him go but not before telling him to come see her if he needed anything. He chuckled and assured her he would before disappearing behind a row of books.
He went to the section that held the travel books first. He was never buying any, but he liked to pick some, sit down on the floor and just take his time flipping through them. He would always take some about New York, Paris, Milan because it was his dream to go there one day and be part of fashion week along with all the big names of the industry. This time though, he picked one about Versailles and kept it with him before moving on to another aisle. His favorite genre was science-fiction and fantasy. He didn’t mind stories about vampires although he really hadn’t hopped onto the bandwagon of a success that was Twilight. Just thinking about that book was enough to make his skin crawl. It took him a few minutes to choose three that he was sure he would love to read and then he continued on his way.
That was until he accidently walked into someone, the collision causing some of his books to fall out of his arms and he let out a small yelp and shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to see the book if it was to end up damaged. He prayed that it would be fine. He did reopen his eyes though when he heard a ‘ow’ and he blinked before moving to pick up his book. “I am so sorry…I didn’t see…” The words died in his mouth then because the boy as he straightened back up ended up bumping heads with Baekhyun who had been bending down to pick up his book so it was Baekhyun’s turn to hiss a soft ‘ow…fuck!’. He straightened back up and rubbed his forehead with his right hand, trying to balance his remaining books with his left arm.
"It’s not your fault…I was a bit distracted….are you alright?" he said as he finally took the time to take a good look at the stranger. They were about the same height but of course the first thing he noticed was the boy’s eyes. They were a bit hard to miss…what with those eyebrows bringing attention to them. Baekhyun’s own face was hiding behind thick black framed-glasses which he pushed up his nose with his right index finger. "Is your foot okay?"
The man with whom he had collided with was, well, a sight to behold, really. He was certainly good-looking, though in a bookish type of way; his chocolate hair looked more haphazard than neat yet settled nicely atop his head. His facial features were almost delicate in a way and seemed to be free of any glaring blemishes, reminding the writer of a porcelain doll. And, while Kyungsoo had to admit that he disliked the trend immensely, the glasses perched atop the man's nose were a nice finishing touch, the thick black frames contrasting nicely against his skin. He almost smiled when the bespectacled man used a finger to situate his glasses further up the bridge of his nose before remembering that he had just been asked if he was alright.
Blinking continuously, as if this would somehow bring him back to the land of the living, Kyungsoo gave the stranger a small, polite smile. "My foot and I are fine, really. Thank you for your concern," he said sincerely, then warily glanced the other over. "Are you, um, okay? I hope not too hurt?" The man seemed to be in good condition, even though they had managed to knock heads together like they were part of some sort of a sadistic comedy act. The back of Kyungsoo's head, which had been dealt the brunt of the 'injury', panged dully--this only made him wonder how the other man was fairing.
It was when Kyungsoo shifted his weight onto the foot that hadn't been attacked by the hardcover book that he remembered said book, which he still held in his hand. He glanced down at it dumbly before smiling sheepishly at the man, only to frown to himself and stare down at the cover of the book once more. His eyes ran across the Hangul inscribed there, thumb absent-mindedly running over the ridges of the raised words; he remembered reading this book a while back and had thoroughly enjoyed it. "You have a good taste in books," he commented before he could stop himself, looking up once more at the man before extending his arm out, offering him the book.
This was when he remembered hearing more than just one thud of a book falling when the two of them had collided, the thought making him scan the ground around him for the books in question. Once he spotted a few, he immediately crouched down to grab the ones closest, feeling guilty and deciding it would be best if he helped out the man, stranger or no. "I am so sorry about this, really," he rambled, tone apologetic as he picked up two books. "I'm usually not this clumsy--uh, well, kind of. It depends, I-I guess? Aaand my words really aren't helping the situation. S-...Sorry. It's hard for me to stop talking when I'm, you know, off on a tangent."
Straightening up from his crouch, the writer curled his lips inwards, as if this would somehow stop him from babbling even more than he already had. He no doubt had already done enough damage; the stranger most likely believed him to be an idiot or accident-prone. Both of which, Kyungsoo felt, were correct assumptions to make, especially given the situation and his reaction to said situation.
"Um, I-I'm Kyungsoo," he stammered feebly, awkwardly passing the other male his books. He made sure not to accidentally offer his own book over, however, though barely just in time. "Nice to meet you?" God why couldn't that have just came out like a normal, proper statement. Kyungsoo, honestly, this is why we can't have good things.
He nodded when the wide-eyed patron told him about himself being a writer, thus he could recall the meaning of Sehun’s name. It was plausible; some people were really knowledgeable in some areas, after all, just like how Sehun knew which type of paper and pencil that he preferred the most, and what type of bullets would go well with a certain model of a gun. He’d never really met a writer before and it was interesting how this person across him managed to memorize meanings of names, wondering how many of those that he could retain in his head. Sehun himself wasn’t much of a reader; his leisure time was filled with more and more sketches, the tip of graphite waltzing across the interwoven fibers of his blank canvas, conjuring images out of his imaginations as he escaped the cruelty that the world imposed on his shoulders. Sometimes he read, but his attention span wasn’t designed for that, hence it was easy for him to get distracted when he was in the midst of reading something. Visualized objects always appealed more to him, so it was more effortless for him to understand stories by reading manhwa instead of scanning the long lines of Hangeul. Sometimes when he read a book, he would realize just how limited his vocabulary was, and felt small because he could never describe himself as intelligent and the realization that came with his inability to comprehend the rows of text as fast as other people only emphasized that further.
The customer fell silent, then, and Sehun was never the type to actively engage himself in a conversation, despite knowing well that such efforts were what led bartenders like him to reap more gratuity. He was never a talker unless he’d known the person well enough, therefore a lot of the bar patrons told him that he’d gotten more talkative with each visit, his willingness to contribute in the topic was more defined with each meeting. There were people with whom he could talk so much since the very first meeting, of course, but that was a rare case for Sehun was not equipped with the eloquence that he’d always wished he could possess. The dying conversation didn’t bother him much, although there was awkwardness settling between them for he had to linger around—every other station was already occupied, and oddly there weren’t many new customers gushing into the bar. The same faces lined down the counter, hands cupping their glasses as they talked to each other when they were with their friends, postures idle to imply that they weren’t leaving their seats anytime soon. Sehun bent down to snatch a bottle of Coke from the small refrigerator placed under the metal countertop next to the basin, wetting his esophagus with the saccharine and preparing his head for the imminent sugar high. That was his way to keep himself awake, eyes peeled open throughout the shift as tedious orders were placed and his hands had to keep pouring liquids into various types of glasses.
While downing his soda, he noticed that the doe-eyed male was still slouched on his seat, fingers curled around the glass coated in condensation. Worries were written on his face—anxiety that was far too familiar for a bartender like Sehun. It was a common attribute that almost every patron who wished to drink their night away shared, but with this young man, Sehun wasn’t sure if the apprehension was something that arose from the life before he stepped into Dovetail, or if it was from the atmosphere of the club itself. Considering the previous conclusions that he’d derived, Sehun’s assumption fell onto the latter. There wasn’t much that he could do about it, since he couldn’t help the other male loosen up by coaxing half of his consciousness out of the man’s head. He didn’t wish to agitate the man more than he’d already been by offering some alcohol, so when the customer himself inquired if Sehun could give him something stronger after pushing the glass of orange juice away from him, it was rather unexpected for Sehun. Hesitation was obvious in the other’s voice and demeanor, but it wasn’t his job to query one’s certainty regarding their choice of drink, so Sehun just nodded and asked, “What kind of drink would you like?” He took out the menu, which had been quite unused. It could be regarded as a waste of money to print it out for nobody actually asked for a menu as most of them had already known what they liked. Some usually had what they wanted to have in mind, and some asked the bartender directly for each of them had their own specialty. Only those visitors who hadn’t been really experienced with alcoholic beverages would ask for the menu. “How strong would you like? I can mix something for you as a starter if you want something that’s not on the menu,” he continued.
Raising his eyebrows when a menu was pushed his way, Kyungsoo grasped it and stared at the front cover, noticing the name of the club written in stylish Hangul atop it. The edges of the menu itself was worn and yellowing, as if dulled with time, and it seemed almost as if it might disintegrate from his fingers at any second had it not been for the fact that it seemed to have been later laminated. He had never seen anything like this--someone being handed a menu at a club, that is--in movies or TV shows, though he supposed that the people who would sit at a bar in a club would actually know what to order rather than being, well, someone like Kyungsoo. A man who was awkwardly caught between two important stages of his life, transitioning from a boy to a man. It was in this moment that he was made painfully aware of his age, of the fact that even though he may live in an apartment by himself, he was living in a city he's never been full of a lot of people he's never met. After all, the writer wasn't a very social person, not using even his job at the public library or his time at the university to try and actively meet more people. And it was a good thing he now knew, for if he had continued to keep to himself and not tried to so stupidly branch out, he would have never set foot in a place like Dovetail. He could've been at home right now, nursing hot coffee while reading a good novel or even attempting to finish off the second draft of his book. In fact, that sounded like a rather good idea; he'd rather not be on an uncomfortable barstool, trying to go out of his way to talk with a bartender who would most likely forget all about him after this night passed. Or perhaps even remember him as the most oddball customer he's had up to date. He wasn't sure which option was worse.
Then again, Kyungsoo had to admit that said bartender was rather interesting. He looked like a man who had seen a lot of people, listened to a lot of tales from people like Kyungsoo or people completely opposite him, all of whom who had no doubt also sat across from him on a barstool. Maybe even the very one he was sitting at. He clung to this thought like an anchor, as if hoping to get rid of the bitterness that stung his palate almost akin to the bitter coffee that he despised so much. He could tell that there was something else to Sehun as well; perhaps not an angsty background, or maybe a dramatic one of epic proportions, or even a quaint one--nevertheless, he was interesting. Kyungsoo never found a lot of people interesting, he had to admit. He didn't mind talking to people, though he was terrible with words when they dripped from his tongue and met the stifling air around him, but many did not capture his attention like Sehun did. There was Junmyeon, of course, who was a complete mystery; Kyungsoo felt as if he was getting one step closer to solving him yet always ending up one step back--but there wasn't many others apart from the detective. It seemed that the emotionless bartender in front of him would be joining the ranks not many had the opportunity to be promoted to. Although, he had to admit that it wasn't anything special nor particularly glamorous, managing to catch a bookish librarian's eye.
Sighing softly to himself and opening the worn menu, he quickly glanced through it and tried to find a drink that he could wallow in. Something that, perhaps, might even get him to forget all about his sudden bout of anger and bitterness, a feeling that seldom crept on him in such a manner, and certainly not in such a crowded place. He often felt it when he was alone, however; standing in his apartment and doing something or the other, only to freeze and find himself wondering what the hell he was even doing, who the hell he was kidding. It was something he felt when he, with shaky hands, slowly opened the curtains of his apartment at night, staring out into the dark streets with a fast-beating heart as if expecting to get shot at any moment. When had this become his life anyway? When had he decided to keep his curtains drawn shut the entire night out of fear of someone staring inside and spotting him, maybe hurting him? When had he first tried to reject any form of contact, having to call his parents often as homesickness hit quickly and lying through his teeth about how he had made many friends who were great company? All the writer had wanted was a change from the place he had lived before. Now, he just hoped that he made the right decision moving explicitly to Seoul.
Attempting to shake his head free from his thoughts, Kyungsoo did his best to pay more attention to the menu clenched tight in his hands. It was rather helpful, considering the fact that the ingredients were listed underneath the name of the drink, though Kyungsoo couldn't properly distinguish between the different types of alcohol. "Uh, I'll go with a...melon ball?" he said, yet it came out more as a question than an actual order. He glanced up to the bartender and smiled at him, though it no doubt looked weak and strained on his end. The writer tried to smooth things over with some random commentary, but wondered what it would be seen as: an attempt to get Sehun talking, to get his mind off of things, or a way to make the air between them less awkward--it was all of the above, really. "I-I've never heard of mixing pineapple juice and vodka together before, so that would be interesting."
ahem aNYWAY so i'm trying to get my butt into gear and properly reply to all of you guys. wish me luck and i am sorry for the random, out-of-the-blue delay! ;; ))
i’m on phone at the moment but it’s rather difficult to reply properly on it, so i may not post any replies or starters until friday/saturday. i’m so sorry, guys. ;; ))
Rena had tried to stifle the chuckle that was begging to be released, but before she knew it, she was practically rolling around on the floor. “I’m sorry,” she apologized a hundredth time and reached over to grab a book, “I just think it’s amusing as to how similar we seem to be.” Gathering up the last few around her, she stood up at a slow pace and appeared to be hesitant about something. Rena gave Kyungsoo a quick glance then studied the back of her hands. “How is it? Working here in the library, I mean. It seems nice, disregarding the fact that I just created turmoil.” Her voice was almost a hum as she placed the books back on the cart. “…I mean….It just seems a lot better than my job, is all.”
There she went again, and she knew it. Rena wasn’t unhappy with her job; it’s just that it booked her to no end. Complaining about it is what she did best, but “saving lives” wasn’t going to come as simple as one would think. Yet, she loved the library. It was much like a second home to her. The peace and tranquility, the books and the spacious interior of the library itself. She even wished it was her home, but that would just be kind of…Silly.
Turning back toward him she played out a swift bow, but refused to raise her head back up. Her recent faults destroyed her reputation.
Not that she ever had one to begin with.
“N-nevermind.” Her mouth took the shape of a grateful smile. “Ah uh, I’ll make sure to visit often. I mean I usually do. But I usually d-don’t…this usually doesn’t happen.” Her body along with her voice staggered in the direction of her bag’s location. Her actions made her anxiousness a little too obvious. Acting as if nothing happened, she tip toed toward the front counter, where her book remained, and waited patiently for Kyungsoo. “Thank you…It was rude of me to not say it earlier, but thank you. If there’s anything I can do in return I-I…” Figuring that she had apologized too much to begin with, Rena suddenly changed the topic to something more convenient, “You go to school around here, correct? What are you majoring in?”
At first, Rena's laughter had taken him off-guard. He hadn't expected it and so he just awkwardly watched as she tried to calm herself down enough to speak. She did have a nice laugh, however, and Kyungsoo had always thought that people looked more attractive when they smiled. When she finally explained to him the reason for her laughter, he couldn't help but quirk his lips up and chuckle lightly himself.
"No need to apologize," he said to her, shaking his head with a small smile. "It's healthy to laugh, no matter what you may laughing about." He wasn't too surprised to see Rena help him with the books, considering her comment about them being similar; he could understand why she felt so now. They both were accident-prone, socially awkward, and helpful whenever they felt like they could be of assistance (he hoped the last similarity wouldn't be seen as too egotistical of him to think).
Once they had finally managed to pick up all of the books and had straightened up from their crouches, Kyungsoo found himself asked a question that he, every now and then, was prompted to answer. Of course, he was sure that many were questioned about their jobs and their thoughts on it, so he wasn't anything special. Smiling, he readily answered. "It's great, actually. Since it's something I really want to do, as it involves literature, I love being a librarian. Social interactions, I have to admit, is a minor setback, but most jobs have that as part of the job description. Cleaning up can be a bit of a pain but at the end of the day, I really do like being a librarian." He chuckled then. "And don't worry; you didn't create any turmoil that couldn't be easily fixed. Thank you for picking up the books with me, by the way. Your help was much appreciated."
Kyungsoo walked over towards her and copied her by placing the books in his hands atop the cart, turning towards her and leaning against the cart. He regarded her with mild curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your job?"
It was strange, how the librarian couldn't help but feel as if he understood what Rena was going through. She seemed rather nervous and flustered, though had bouts of courage every now and then where she spoke her mind. It really did remind Kyungsoo of himself, which made him more eager to help her get comfortable around him. He knew what it was like to be in the company of someone and feel like a total loon in comparison and this was something he hoped Rena didn't feel around him--some mousy little librarian--of all people.
"You're welcome," he said as warmly as he could, slowly making his way to the other side of the counter. "And, really, you weren't being rude at all. Also, I'd love to see you around more. I tend to keep to myself during work, so to have a familiar face around every now and then is something I'd love." He paused then, realizing how weird he must sound. "A-Ah, not that you have to or anything, of course. Uh, after all, i-it's your choice, not mine to make. C-Come whenever you feel like it."
Feeling a bit rude as he had completely disregarded her attempt at small talk, he decided to go ahead and finally answer her question. "And y-yes, by the way. I, um, do go to a school around here. A university, to be more precise." Kyungsoo cleared his throat in an attempt to try and get his previous bravado back. "Uh, I'm majoring in literature. But that was probably a little obvious." He chuckled uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you currently in school? What are you majoring in, if you don't mind me asking?"
Realizing that he had yet to check out her book, the librarian decided it was best if he allowed her to go home before it got thoroughly dark outside. "Sorry for, ah, keeping you here for so long. Could I have your library card for a moment?" he questioned, giving her a small, sheepish smile.
*throws laptop away* I am done. I give up on writing. WHY ARE YOU GUYS ALL WRITING AMAZING SELF-PARA? Vehsbskbdjdbdkdb. Poor Kyungsoo D:
Omg don't even okay let's not forget about your lovely self-para that I love to the ends of the Earth and back<3 Thank you so much for your kind words though!
iu-redcrest replied to your post: I'm Not Crying On Sundays || Self-Para
WHAT IS THIS TORTURE
Yes my writing is torture for anyone who reads because word vomit. OTL Thank you for commenting, you amazing person. ;;
sehun-crests replied to your post: I'm Not Crying On Sundays || Self-Para
I CREYYYYYYY *pets kyungsoo aggressively*
JANEEE<3 I am not worthy ok. Thank you for reading~ and Kyungsoo thanks you for the love he really needs it. ;A;
hyungseok-vipers replied to your post: I'm Not Crying On Sundays || Self-Para
{my tears. ;; This was so terribly sad…*gives soo the biggest hug ever* ;A;}
Ack omg I can't believe you actually liked it. I really didn't expect this much response. OTL But I am so glad~ and Soo is thankful for the hug!!
Just going to say here that this is really long. I am so sorry to anyone who even attempts to read this; I honestly thought it wouldn't be too long but then this just spiralled out of control like pretty much everything I write. Fair warning that this is probably pretty bad; I wrote it in one sitting and didn't edit it as much as I should have.
Also, I just wanted to warn beforehand that there is homophobia in this. So, if you aren't comfortable reading, then it's best that you don't.
His name was Cho Daejung and practically everyone in school was in love with him, from faculty to students. He was smart for his age and very respectful, not to mention good-looking and generally charming. The boy was friends with many and kept in good relations with the teachers, who pretty much all had a soft spot for him. It was rather cliché, to be honest: boys wanted to be him and girls wanted to date him--or whatever the middle school equivalent to dating was, anyway.
Kyungsoo clearly remembered the butterflies he had whenever he managed to speak to the other boy, the way he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything but him. It made it difficult to socialize with his crush and any other person would've found the doe-eyed boy to be weird and have moved on, but Daejung always made an effort to speak with him and joke around. At the time, Kyungsoo had been so convinced that he was in love. It seemed like it, after all, and he had read countless books in which the two main characters fall in love. It felt like it too.
However, South Korea wasn't known for its support towards homosexuality. More like the complete opposite. But he had never heard anyone talk about it, so he had remained unaware of exactly how bad it could be if you were believed to be homosexual. And so the years steadily passed and everyone in the middle school went through changes--yet, Daejung remained the most popular boy and still talked to Kyungsoo, much to his immense surprise. They even grew to become quite close.
The boy learnt with time that Daejung was stressed out by his popularity. It was difficult trying to maintain friends while focusing on studying and staying in the good graces of his teachers, not to mention that his parents had high expectations of him from the get go. He had to spend most of his time studying away at home, forced to try and get the highest grades he can to get into a university already chosen for him.
Kyungsoo felt sorry for him, not to mention that they were good friends now, so often times they would end up studying together or staying up late talking on the phone until one of their parents found out and forced them to go to bed. They would meet up for a bit after school and talk while waiting for their parents to pick them up, whether it be about the newest shenanigans the class clown had gotten into or sobering news about Daejung's studying situation. And, of course, Kyungsoo still harboured a crush on him--in fact, it had steadily become larger than life.
He knew nothing would become of it, however. Daejung tended to talk a lot about girls; the ones he had a crush on and the ones who liked him and so forth, never pausing for breath between his sentences. The doe-eyed boy tried to keep up appearances, off-handedly speaking about a few crushes he had on girls that he had never talked to, sometimes never even stared in the general direction of. But his crush never realized this, which was what he had been going for, though Kyungsoo wanted desperately to tell him that he liked him, that he often fantasized about them holding hands or...kissing.
Although, he had always been a shy boy and two males being together romantically had been something that he had never seen before in his life. Though he wasn't the wisest child out there, he still wondered why that was. Was there a huge reason for it? Were they as shy as him, not wanting to talk about it to others? Or did they not know it like Kyungsoo previously hadn't? It would've helped him had he known someone who was into boys like him, but he didn't, and he wasn't one to go around asking males he knew if they liked other males. He had enough sense to know something like that would be intrusive and, well, just plain weird.
So Kyungsoo continued to harbour his crush on Daejung, the feeling unwavering and constantly encompassing everything, but kept quiet about it. They went into high school, a complete change of place, and of course, his crush maintained his popularity spectacularly there as well. His grades were higher than ever and he seemed to gain friends by the double digits practically every single day. Still, they were the closest of friends; Kyungsoo was surprised and pleased to note that he seemed to be the only person Daejung was so close to.
Everything drastically changed, however, when Daejung didn't meet up with him after school like usual. He hadn't thought anything of it, though, as perhaps he was hanging with other friends like he did at times, so Kyungsoo walked home alone. After some time spent doing his homework in the living room, the phone rang. His mother had been busy cooking and his father had yet to come home from work so naturally Kyungsoo ran to it and picked up, only to hear deep breathing and shaky sobs.
"I-I don't know what to do, Soo," said the voice on the other line. It was almost impossible to make out the syllables. However, didn't take much detective work for the doe-eyed boy to know that it was Daejung on the other line. His words sent a spasm of fear through him, though obviously he would be afraid if Daejung of all people was crying.
The entire time they had been friends, never once had his friend cried. Not even on the days he would come to school with a swollen cheek, the bruise made by his father who often times took his frustrations out on his wife and child. Not even when he spoke about his difficult familial situation. But this wasn't the only reason Kyungsoo was so deathly afraid and yet he wasn't quite sure what the other reason could be. All he felt was a sense of foreboding.
"W-What's wrong, Dae?" he stammered, voice thick and throat closing up. "Is...is it your dad?"
"No," Daejung breathed out from the other line. "I-I've never told you this, actually, but I...just, promise me that you won't hate me. Promise me that you won't get mad and never talk to me again."
Kyungsoo creased his eyebrows. "Of course I would never get mad at you," he said honestly. "Trust me. We're friends. We always will be, no matter what." It always hurt saying that, considering that he was sure that his crush was steadily heading into love, but his second guessing scared him into never saying a word about it.
"To be honest, all those girls that I...that I've liked over the years a-and gone on dates with and stuff, they--I never liked them. Any of them."
"What?" Kyungsoo sputtered, taken aback. Why would he even go out with them if he wasn't interested in them? And why would something like this make him so upset?
"They were nice girls, yes, but I never liked them or felt a-attracted to them," he managed through his sniffling. "I don't like girls, Soo. At all. I never have, to be honest. It was just something I'd talk about and go along with to, well, keep up appearances. And I'm sorry for lying to you all this time but I didn't want anyone to know. It was a secret I wanted to keep until I felt it w-was the right time to tell someone, you know? I didn't want anyone knowing about it. E-Except for the person I might end up having feelings for."
Kyungsoo found himself unable to speak. His voice was caught in his throat and his stomach in knots. Daejung didn't mean to say that he...liked boys, right? This was too much for him. He couldn't believe that the entire time he had been fighting with himself, wanting to tell him about his crush but hesitating due to embarrassment and nervousness, Daejung was in the same situation as him. Of course, it didn't mean that he liked him as well, but it was a start.
"I-It's okay," he finally said. "Don't worry, Dae. I'm not mad or anything. Why would I be? It's okay."
"No," Daejung said fiercely, startling Kyungsoo. "It is not okay. I-I'm glad that you're not mad but it is not okay and it will never be. I kept quiet about it because I knew people would be disgusted if they found out and still I...I am such an idiot."
"Wh--disgusted? Why would they be disgusted?"
Daejung gave a hollow chuckle. "Because boys liking boys is weird. It's unusual. Boys are supposed to like girls and only girls. Just like how girls can't like other girls. If people ever found out about your homosexuality, then it's a disease and they'll just want to put a stop to it. They'll label you a fag or a--or a monster. Why else do you think nobody ever talks about it? Why it's never mentioned like it's the fucking plague? It's because everyone wants to avoid it, whether they are homosexual or not."
To Kyungsoo, who had never known this information, it was like a punch to the gut. He, sitting at the very top of the stairs at this point and keeping his voice down so his mother didn't overhear, found himself frozen. His knees were locked together tightly, breath leaving him in mouthfuls, and felt considerably light all of a sudden. He didn't believe Daejung's words because they couldn't be right. They just couldn't. And yet, even though he furiously told himself that his friend was wrong and only misguided, he knew that he was lying to himself. Daejung made so much sense. His knowledge was sound. Everything slotted together perfectly in Kyungsoo's mind for the first time in years and it made his stomach lurch until he was sure he would throw up.
But he didn't. Instead, his grip on the phone turned so tight that he was sure his knuckles were white. His lips were dry and so he licked them, turning and scooching backwards so that his back was aligned perfectly with the wall behind him. He could hear Daejung breathing heavily on the other side, quiet sobbing and sniffling making the line crackle.
"I'm here for you, Dae," he murmured quietly, thickly. "I...I know that it's not much, but I'm always here to listen whenever you have a problem, okay? We can get through this together." This would have been the perfect time to tell Daejung that he was not alone. This would have been the perfect time for Kyungsoo to finally get the secret he had hidden away off of his chest, to confide in someone who was like him. It was what he was going to do when his friend spoke up.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much, Soo. You really are the only person I-I could trust with this. You should've been the first person I told but I was too stupid. And now everything's going to change."
The sense of foreboding hit him again, though much more powerfully. "What do you mean?" he asked, though part of him desperately wanted him to close the phone so he wouldn't know.
"I liked someone," Daejung whispered. "It was this, uh, this guy in our class: Jang Minki? My stupid crush on him started around the beginning of high school. You know, this school year. He was really nice and we often talked before class, when you usually were being dropped off by your dad. He seemed so accepting and kind. He always made me laugh and even laughed at my stupid jokes. Minki was...was perfect for me, you know? I just knew that he would be the one, as girly as it sounds. So today, after school, I went to his locker when everyone was gone and waited for him to finish his soccer practice, which was why I ditched you. When he finally came, I told him that I liked him."
Daejung's breathing picked up now. "H-He was real quiet for a second, but then his face grew red and he started yelling. He punched me, he called me sick and a freak. He told me that he would t-tell everyone that I was a fag, that I was disgusting and a pervert. I...I don't know what to do. What if he wasn't lying? What will the students and the teachers think? What if word gets to my dad? I'm so scared, Kyungsoo. I never wanted this. I knew I should've never told anyone, or maybe just have told you and no one else, but I really liked Minki and I thought he would understand but--" He broke out into sobs, this time louder than before.
Kyungsoo didn't know what to say. What could make things all better? What could he possibly tell Daejung that would make everything alright? He knew Minki, and while he had always believed that he was nice, he had a mean streak in him. Kyungsoo remembered the days in middle school when he would at times tease other students to the point of tears. He had always written it off as something done childishly, something that Minki now probably regretted, but it seemed that bullies would always be just that.
There really was nothing he could say. Kyungsoo had never been good with words; he could write well and received good marks in school for literature but socializing and talking with people was something he wasn't good at. He left the talking to his friend, who was naturally an amazing speaker. The two of them were vastly different as Kyungsoo was too shy and Daejung too boisterous, which often made adults amused by their close friendship. If Daejung was upset about this, if the situation was as serious as it sounded, then there was no words soothing enough without being complete lies that could be spotted miles away.
So Kyungsoo did the only thing he could do. He kept silent. He listened quietly to the sound of his best friend's sobbing, to the disheartening sound of a kind and innocent boy's life being torn apart simply because he loved the wrong gender.
- - -
The next day, exactly what Daejung had been fearing happened.
Though the boy had not come to school, it didn't matter. Harsh, derogatory words were whispered about him, jokes were made about him, many even suggesting using violence when he next came to school. Everyone who had once been such good friends with Daejung and spoke such kind words were now spewing hatred and taunts. It scared Kyungsoo to the point where he couldn't help but break down in the boys bathroom during lunch time, tears streaming down his face and stubbornly refusing to stop no matter how hard he wiped them away.
This, what was happening to Daejung, easily could've happened to him. He had been oblivious to the hate, to the stigma that came with being a homosexual. Had he been any more brave, had he been more like his friend, he might have confessed his feelings to a boy like Minki. It could have been him that the student body would be so bloodthirsty and cruel towards. It could have been him who would have to deal with the deadly repercussions. It could have been him.
And maybe it should have been him. After all, he wasn't the school's golden boy. Nobody particularly loved or adored him. Many did not even know his name, only remembering him as the boy with the weird owl eyes who hung around Daejung a lot. It would have affected him greatly but not how it was affecting his friend, who had been so popular and on good graces with everyone he met. Now nothing would be the same again for him.
The bullying had reached such high levels at the end of the day that some students had even approached Kyungsoo, whether it be to ask about Daejung's whereabouts or bully him simply for befriending the boy. He kept mum through it all, stubbornly refusing to cooperate, and practically ran to his father's car the moment he saw it reach the curb. When he finally got home, he dashed to the phone and called Daejung's house.
The phone rang constantly. No one picked up, not even when he called two more times afterwards.
Kyungsoo's stomach plummeted.
- - -
A week passed and Daejung never came to school. He didn't pick up any of Kyungsoo's phone calls, either, no matter how many times he called with his nails digging into the receiver and his eyes glassy. It wasn't like the boy he knew at all to do something like this, to completely ignore him and make no contact whatsoever.
What was worse was that his parents should have at least done something; forced him to go back to school as it was "impertinent for him to if he wanted to get into university", the very one they had picked for him ever since he was born. They would never have stood for Daejung missing out on his education like this. This could only mean that something was very wrong but Kyungsoo didn't want to go to his house to ask for him. He knew Daejung didn't want to talk to him if he wasn't picking up the phone, so he resolved not to go there.
It was during Monday, when Kyungsoo next went to school, that Daejung called.
He knew it was him without even having picked up the phone. There was silence for some time, neither of them willing to break it. Kyungsoo knew even without his friend saying anything that something big had happened. Something that would change his life once again. It was obvious that neither Kyungsoo nor Daejung wanted to make that bad feeling a reality.
Daejung broke the silence anyway.
"Soo," he began, voice placid. "Soo, I'm moving. My dad, he...he found out a-about Minki. A teacher told him, apparently. He was really mad, madder than I'd ever seen him. So he told me that we were leaving and going some place else, where no one knows...you know, about what happened."
Kyungsoo said nothing, though he felt like he was experiencing a myriad of emotions at once. He didn't want things to change. He didn't want Daejung to leave. He didn't want them to say goodbye without telling him the truth about himself. But his voice was caught in his throat and he found it impossible to speak up. And he knew that Daejung didn't want him to say anything, knew that it might end up making things worse. It didn't matter anyway, his feelings for his friend. He was leaving and never coming back, so why make things even more painful and awkward?
There were many times where he daydreamed about the day he would finally confess. Kyungsoo would tell him that he loved the way Daejung's hair fell into face when the wind was particularly strong; he loved the way his fingers curled around his pencil when they were studying in Kyungsoo's room; he loved the way his eyes would crinkle up into crescents whenever he genuinely smiled or laughed. And he also loved the way Daejung fit so well into the curve of his arm when he got the courage to place it around his shoulders; he loved the way they would be able to talk about anything and everything; he...he loved him. Plain and simple.
And now there was no way he would ever be able to tell him. No way he could ever work up the courage. But, to be honest, there had never been a way to begin with because Kyungsoo was too much of a coward and change was terrifying to him.
"When are you leaving?" he finally managed to ask.
"Tomorrow. Dad wants to leave as soon as possible. He got transferred to a new place far from here. Still in South Korea but where no one will be able to find out about what happened."
"Oh."
Silence, before: "Thank you, Kyungsoo. For staying by my side. For always being my friend."
"There's no need t-to thank me," he whispered. This felt too much like a permanent goodbye, like a conversation people had when one of them was lying on their death bed. Couldn't we keep on being friends? Why wasn't it possible for us to somehow keep in contact? Were things going to just end like this? Would I let it? Tears had begun to silently slip down his cheeks but he tried not to cry because he didn't want Daejung to know.
"You always say that, you know," Daejung said, chuckling without mirth. "You're always so...selfless. You never want to think about yourself; you just keep all of that in your head. It's a good quality to have but, one day, it'll eat you up inside. Don't let that happen."
"I won't, Dae," he said. It was all he could say. There were so much he wanted to say, so much so that he had no idea what to say. And so he kept silent like a fool.
"I hope you aren't in too much trouble because of what I did, what I am. People shouldn't be bullying you just because you were friends with me."
"They don't," he lied. And he knew that Daejung knew it was one, too, but he never spoke up to call him out on it.
"Bye, Soo."
"Bye, Dae."
The words were said almost too casually, almost as if they would meet again. Kyungsoo liked that. He liked thinking that maybe Daejung would come to school tomorrow and sit next to him in class and wait with him after school and everyone would love him again. So he kept on thinking that, reminiscing the past, even when the line went silent and the dial tone began to sound loudly in his ear.
But Daejung never showed up the next day, or any of the days after that. With time, he became nothing short of a distant memory to the student body. For everyone, life moved on without much preamble. No one cared or thought much about the boy who they had once all loved and admired and put on a pedestal to worship.
And sometimes, even when years had passed, Kyungsoo would pick up the phone when it rang and nobody would say anything on the other side. He wouldn't say anything either, just listen to the sound of static.
Kyungsoo wasn't quite sure what he felt about the days where there was nothing awaiting him. There were no classes and no shifts at the library; he was free to do whatever he wanted. The possibilities, for a change, were pretty much endless.
Then again, he wasn't exactly the adventurous person. Sure, he would often dream of doing something exciting, something that would make him feel less average and less like the normal masses. But, to be truthful, even if the opportunity struck him he wouldn't go for it. Kyungsoo was too attached to his schedules and the rules society had paved; it would be difficult for him to veer off of them with reckless abandon.
So, on these typically boring days of his, the writer would either stay holed up in his apartment, stock up on anything he was low on, or just visit the quaint bookstore close to his apartment for some new reads. Kyungsoo, ironically enough, did not like going to the library considering the fact that the books there could only be borrowed; he liked to physically hold and keep the books he read, even if it turned out that they weren't interesting or well-written enough for his tastes.
Which would be why the man found himself crossing the street once it was safe enough to, bundled up well in case it would end up raining like the weather forecast had predicted. His umbrella was strung around his wrist, which he held comfortably in one hand, though his sights were only on the bookstore ahead of him. He opened the glass door, bell above chiming merrily, and made his way inside, bowing to the owner behind the counter before making his way down a random aisle. The writer checked the cover of the books to make out the genre he had chosen. Horror, definitely, as most of the covers were dark and gloomy, some of them showcasing fearsome beasts like werewolves, sea creatures, and the like.
Making sure the coast was clear, Kyungsoo left the aisle and made his way to the one adjacent, where the romance books were kept. Call him childish but he abhorred having people find out about this little secret of his. He knew it wasn't anything to be ashamed of but had grown to keep it to himself anyway, resolving not to speak of it to anyone. He glanced through several covers, making sure not to touch any of the...raunchy ones, and picked up a romance novel that seemed promising.
After having read the summary on the back and flipped through it to make sure there wasn't any overly inappropriate material (he had once accidentally picked one of those books up and would now never be the same again), he nodded to himself and turned to march towards the counter. Kyungsoo had just exited the aisle when he was met with a shoulder clashing hard against his own and the edge of what felt to be a book meet his sneaker-clad foot.
"Ow," he hissed to himself, moving his foot back and allowing the book to plop onto the floor. After some deliberation--would the other guy pick it up or should I...?--Kyungsoo finally reached down and grabbed the hardcover, straightening up to offer it to the man who he had collided with. "Um, s-sorry about that."
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