Archive of Our Own

Minhyuk grabs his bookbag — the one he’s had since high school, fabric fraying and stained beyond repair — and slides the zipper open as his professor wraps up the day’s lecture. He shuffles his notebook and the marketing textbook he only opens the nights before quizzes into the open sack.

“Hey, can I borrow your notes?” he directs to the guy sitting next to him when he finishes zipping up his bag. He offers up his most charming smile and is matched with a look of utter disdain. “Kihyun, don’t make that face. It makes you exceptionally uglier.”

“Fuck you,” Kihyun counters.

He is something like Minhyuk’s best friend but he only claims that title when Minhyuk isn’t annoying him to hell and back which is practically never. They met in their freshman year; Kihyun lived on the floor below him but their roommates were friends. They first bonded over shit-talking their roommates and then they found out they were in the same introductory biology class and further bonded over how terrible at science they were. Now Kihyun is trapped in this friendship no matter how much he wants out.

“Yeah, okay.” As soon as their professor lets them go, Minhyuk rises out of his seat and steps away, watching as the attached chair swings beneath the table. Chatter fills the room as other students do the same and Minhyuk watches them file out as he waits for Kihyun to gather his own belongings. “I only need the stuff from the last, like, twenty minutes,” he says, eying a girl walking up to their TA.

Kihyun heaves a sigh as he gets up, vaguely hipster messenger bag in hand, and weaves around Minhyuk to worm out of the row of seats. “You’re lucky I’m in this class with you. Otherwise, you’d fucking fail.”

Snatching his bookbag and heaving it over his shoulder, Minhyuk quickly follows behind. “Kihyun, the amount of trust you have in my ability to succeed is so heartwarming. I think I’m crying.” He wipes at non-existent tears, accidentally checking someone with his elbow as too many of them try to fit through the same door.

The best thing about having a lecture on the first floor of the building is that there is no need to struggle to maneuver down however many flights of stairs with the hundreds of students trying to leave and the barely on time stragglers trying to go up. The warm September air washes over them as soon as they step outside. Some people are milling about, alone and in groups, and others are rushing to get to their next class. As he and Kihyun walk out in the open expanse of campus, Minhyuk finds his eyes wandering to where the engineering courses are usually held, wondering if his bathroom stall buddy is one of the students trickling out of the building.

The discovery of the number was a weird occurrence in which, somehow, there wasn’t an available urinal when he stopped by the bathroom after his three o’clock ethics class and he had to opt for a stall. The number was faded, probably after many attempts by the cleaning staff to scrub it off, but Minhyuk could still make it (and a drawing of a stick figure with what was probably supposed to be a penis but really just looked like an upside down triangle) out. More interested in the shitty drawing — because all men are capable of drawing a penis, it’s in their DNA — than in what it signified, Minhyuk took a picture of it for his Snap Story. He didn’t realize the number was still readable in the shot until he was looking at his Snaps later on that night. The shitty penis had lost its appeal by then but the number had created new interest. He was sure whoever this number belonged to didn’t write it on that stall (and he wasn’t looking for sex anyway) but an impulse told him to try it.

And if there’s anything Minhyuk has, it’s bad impulse control.

“Hyunwoo wants to know if we want to split a pizza with him,” Kihyun announces, breaking Minhyuk’s attention away from the buildings across the way.

“Ask him if he’s paying,” Minhyuk says, scratching at the inside of his wrist. 

Kihyun opts to call, too lazy to text, and switches over to speaker as soon as Hyunwoo answers with a monotonous ‘yeah?’

“Can we get an ordinary pizza this time or nah?” Minhyuk asks before Kihyun can say anything.

He gets a look for that but Minhyuk isn’t bothered by those anymore.

“Do we have a problem, Minhyuk?” Hyunwoo asks instead.

“I just want to be able to taste the cheese and tomato sauce for once, but it’s nothing personal.”

“Are you ordering now?” Kihyun cuts in.

“I’m in line, yeah,” Hyunwoo answers.

“Then get…” He trails off and looks at Minhyuk.

“Pepperoni!” Minhyuk fills in.

“Get pepperoni for Minhyuk and I’ll eat whatever you get.”

Over the speaker there is a rush of air that is Hyunwoo laughing. “Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you guys at the spot.”

Kihyun hums out an affirmative and hangs up. “You’re a child,” he says as he pockets his phone.

“What? Every time he buys, there’s always a million toppings.” Minhyuk sniffs. “You know I have a sensitive palate.”

“You’re a child,” Kihyun repeats.

‘The spot’ is an arbitrary description for any open space in the quad, preferably in the shade of the music building. It’s where they hang out — or attempt to since space is hard to come by — in the downtime between classes when the weather allows. The bench is occupied by some kid lying down, a textbook covering his face; the ledge bordering the wheelchair ramp, though — thankfully, miraculously — is void of people. Shade coverage around the ledge isn’t as good as it is around the bench but it beats sitting in the grass and burning beneath the sun.

Minhyuk leans back, the concrete surface scratching lightly against his palms. Bringing his left foot up to rest on the edge, he tilts his head back toward the sky and closes his eyes. There is a slight warm breeze that picks up and flutters against his skin. He sighs. “I’m never gonna leave this spot.”

“You have biz administration at two,” Kihyun informs. He is perched on top of the ledge rather than the edge like Minhyuk, his legs folded in front of him. “And I’m sure you don’t have any friends in that class to borrow notes from.”

Making friends with anyone in his business administration class — in the entire business department, really — is the last thing Minhyuk wants to do. They’re all snobbish and holier-than-thou which is strange because business is the major you take when you don’t have anything else to do. Or, at least, that’s the case for Minhyuk.

“Speaking of notes,” Minhyuk blinks open his eyes and tilts his head toward Kihyun.

Kihyun rolls his eyes. “I need that notebook for my next class. I’ll give them to you tonight.” He stretches out to lie down and accidentally kicks Minhyuk’s hip in the process. He doesn’t bother to apologize. “I don’t know how you made it this far when you have the attention span of a piece of iceberg lettuce. Who were you texting in class? Who even texts anymore?”

“Don’t you text your mom, like, every night or something?” Minhyuk asks offhandedly. He sways to the left when Kihyun purposefully kicks his side and laughs.

“Don’t bring my mom into this, asshole. She likes to hear about my day.”

Minhyuk reins in his laughter until he’s just grinning. “It was,” he pauses as he searches for the right word, “a friend.”

Picking up on the weird hesitation, Kihyun sits up. He stares at Minhyuk with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “A friend,” he confirms, his tone full with muted question.

Minhyuk shrugs. It’s weird. He and the person from the bathroom — now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t even know what gender they are — are complete strangers. They’re kind of more than strangers. At least with someone you pass on the street, you know what they look like even if you don’t know anything else. Minhyuk knows nothing other than them being an architecture major at this university who cares too much about if Minhyuk uses proper spelling and grammar in his texts.

But it’s nice in a way Minhyuk never would have thought it would be before. His bathroom stall buddy, at least from their short back and forth earlier, is pretty chill. And for some reason they weren’t as disturbed by the text, or the revelation that their number can be found in the second floor men’s near the psychology wing of D Hall. Even if he is the one who started the awkward exchange, Minhyuk expected to be ignored after the first reply. He would have let it go after that, but now he’s curious, wants to actually get to know his bathroom buddy as a person.

“That’s what I said,” replies Minhyuk. He raises his eyebrow at Kihyun’s unconvinced hum. “Can you not?”

“You’re the one being weird. Either they’re your friend or they’re not.” Kihyun snorts.

“That’s not how life works, Kihyun.”

“It is,” replies Kihyun. “Unless you’re dating again and aren’t telling me. Which would be out of character because you like to over-share.”

Minhyuk smiles lightly and closes his eyes again. “You mean you didn’t like hearing about me and Seulgi’s lunch dates?”

“Just hearing about your lunch dates would be fine. I didn’t need to hear about how many times you hooked up on our couch, though, you Jack Frost looking fuck.”

“Kihyunnie, you’re so mean,” Minhyuk whines childishly. “And here I thought I was doing you a favor letting you live vicariously through me since you haven’t been in contact with a vagina since you came out of your mom’s.”

He jumps down from the ledge when Kihyun makes an inhuman sound of rage and scrambles to reach for Minhyuk. Cackling at his friend’s reddening face, Minhyuk backpedals, just in case Kihyun tries to leap off and tackle him.

“We’re in public, you guys.” Hyunwoo comes with a long-suffering sigh.

Minhyuk looks over his shoulder and immediately spots Hyunwoo crossing over the edge of the grassy space and onto the sidewalk beside him, two oily pizza boxes stacked in hand.

“He’s the one acting crazy. I’m innocent.” He jabs his thumb at Kihyun who still looks like he wants to punch him in the throat. He ignores the side-eye Hyunwoo throws his way. “Pass up the goods. I have class in thirty.”

Shaking his head, Hyunwoo holds his hand out and Minhyuk takes the smaller of the two boxes. He moves to sit in the space Minhyuk previously occupied, acting as the middle ground between them as he so often does. He opens the large box to reveal his extra supreme pizza.

Minhyuk pretends to gag as he hops up onto the ledge on the other side of Hyunwoo where Kihyun can’t reach him.

“Can we kick him out of the apartment already?” Kihyun grumbles.

Hyunwoo does that breathy thing he calls a laugh.

Minhyuk rolls his eyes as he rips a slice of plain, cheesy goodness from his small pie. “You’d miss the hell out of me if I left and you know it.”

“I could replace you with an untrained puppy and I probably wouldn’t even notice the difference,” Kihyun assures.

“But you’d have to walk the puppy.” Hyunwoo folds his pizza in half and takes a bite.

Kihyun plucks a mushroom off his slice and gracefully tosses it onto the remaining slices. “A small sacrifice.”

“See! Even you don’t like all that shit on your pizza,” Minhyuk exclaims with a mouthful of cheese, pointing at Kihyun. “Also, if I was gone, who would provide you with quality booze, graciously act as your wingman, and stab you with your Epi-Pen when you eat half a dozen peanut butter cookies like an idiot?”

“You’re a terrible wingman,” Kihyun says. He can’t comment on the other things because they’re true. Minhyuk is too picky to buy cheap alcohol and Hyunwoo freaks out whenever Kihyun has an allergic reaction.

Shaking his head, Minhyuk tuts. “I am a great wingman. You are undesirable and beyond help.”

“He did hook me up with Jihyun,” Hyunwoo adds.

Kihyun sets his half-eaten slice down in the open side of the pizza box and narrows his eyes at Hyunwoo. “Whose side are you on?”

Hyunwoo lifts an eyebrow and says, as if there is no other answer, “The side that can’t afford to pick up the extra cost in rent and utilities.”

Although not serious about kicking Minhyuk out of their place, the appearance of an acceptable reason why Minhyuk can’t leave makes Kihyun pause. He frowns. “Fair enough.”

Poking his head around Hyunwoo’s brick body, as soon as Minhyuk makes eye contact with Kihyun, he blows him a kiss.

Kihyun throws an olive at him.

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 04:42pm

hey i think you butt-dialed me

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 04:57pm

Oh, sorry. I don’t know how that happened.

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 05:00pm

it’s whatever

most importantly

you haven’t blocked me yet

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 05:01pm

Blocked.

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 05:02pm

im glad you didn’t deny our butter friendship

*budding

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 05:02pm

To be honest, I didn’t expect you to contact me again.

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 05:04pm

technically you contacted me first with the butt dial

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 05:05pm

I guess.

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 05:07pm

a real conversationalist, you are

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 05:07pm

I don’t actually know you??

Therefore, I don’t know what there is to even say

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 05:08pm

how about giving me that a/s/l and your name

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 05:08pm

Is this an AOL chatroom from 2001?

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 05:10pm

humor me

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 05:11pm

david

45/m/my little pony lair

hbu?

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 05:11pm

…

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 05:12pm

You’re not getting both my name and all that.

FROM: 080-5112-8370

14/09/30 05:13pm

just last names then?

im lee

20 years old, the greatest man you’ll ever meet, and hoping to find that special one

FROM: 080-6533-2994

14/09/30 05:13pm

Chae.

I’m a simple, also 20 year old guy and I’m really excited to be a contestant on the Bachelor.

FROM: Lee

14/09/30 05:14pm

i wasn’t expecting that lol

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/09/30 05:17pm

Oh I’m full of surprises.

FROM: Lee

14/09/30 05:18pm

is this the part where you tell me you wrote your number up on the stall

and are actually looking for sex

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/09/30 05:18pm

Damn, you caught me.

Usually I have more discreet methods of reeling in strange boys

But I’m trying to broaden my horizons outside the engineering pool.

FROM: Lee

14/09/30 05:20pm

im not the faceless hookup type

but i might be able to make an exception

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/09/30 05:20pm

diqq pics first !!!

Sorry

That was my idiot best friend who thinks we’re actually negotiating a hook up

FROM: Lee

14/09/30 05:24pm

what a sweet best friend

keeping your best interests in mind by requesting dick pics

give me a couple mins to get it up

wait

should i wrap it or nah?

to let em know i practice safe sex?

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/09/30 05:25pm

I swear to God if you send me a picture of your dick

I will actually block you

FROM: Lee

14/09/30 05:25pm

8====D

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/09/30 05:27pm

Oh my God. You’re actually 10

FROM: Lee

14/09/30 05:28pm

you want to know what else is 10?

inches?

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/09/30 05:28pm

STOP

FROM: Lee

14/09/30 05:28pm

my dick

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/09/30 05:29pm

Goodbye

“Can you go away?” Hyungwon huffs, locking his phone and dropping it into his lap. He lifts a hand to brush his hair out of his face. It’s getting way too long and he can’t decide if he likes that or not. 

Hoseok all but dissolves, shifting all of his weight onto Hyungwon’s side and forcing them into a weird half-sitting, half-lying down position. “You can’t shut me out. Our relationship doesn’t allow it.”

“I cuddle with you on Saturdays and that’s pretty much the extent of our ‘relationship’.” Hyungwon kicks at Hoseok’s shins until he swings his legs up onto the couch. Once they’re up, Hyungwon does the same and allows them to lie down properly.

“Is that why you’re flirting with some creep who supposedly got your number from a toilet stall?” Hoseok asks. He slings an arm around Hyungwon’s midsection. “I don’t know if you know this, but that is really fucking weird, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon can’t say anything to that because it is weird. He said that when he received the first message. He does understand Hoseok’s worry. Who would actually contact a number they randomly saw, especially one from a stall, without expecting to get something out of it? Hyungwon doesn’t know which bathroom his number is in or how long it’s been there or who wrote it there and why. But stall numbers are meant to imply open sex and nothing else. No one ever pays them any attention but that person, Lee, did, even though he says he just wants to talk. It doesn’t help that he is too invasive, perverted, and oddly persistent considering the situation.

He seems harmless enough, though. And they’re going by last name. Hyungwon knows how to play the game. Nothing super incriminating; no white, unmarked vans; no taking candy from strangers. They’re on a big campus. The chance of Lee finding him even knowing his major and last name is slim.

There is no real harm in just talking. It’s kind of fun, almost like having a pen-pal. If it gets too uncomfortable, Hyungwon can always block his number like they’ve been joking about. Or go as far as to change his own number even, if he has to. But he hadn’t heard from Lee until the accidental call today, so who knows if they’ll even talk again after this. Hyungwon surely has no plans of initiating a conversation. 

“One,” Hyungwon holds up a finger, “I’m not flirting. Two, I’m pretty sure he’ll never message me again after this.”

“One, you’re never this open with people you’ve just met. Two, he knew it was you who called him because he messaged you about it, so he probably already stored your number in his phone,” Hoseok mimics.

“Or maybe he’s the type of person to let people know when they butt-dial?” Hyungwon can’t help the inflected question in his tone. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince Hoseok or himself that this situation is normal.

Sighing, Hoseok reaches for Hyungwon’s hand to thread their fingers and ignores him when he calls out a red card. Instead, he tightens his grip. “All I’m saying is that he’s kind of sketch. Let’s just leave out the manner in which he says he got your number for a second. No one is ever that forward to a stranger unless they’re a conceited douchebag or an online predator. Did you see the way he reacted to my dick pic message?”

Hyungwon tugs at their joined hands before attempting to pry Hoseok’s fingers off. Saturday Cuddling is meant for hugging and spooning not hand-holding. He’ll have to go over the Saturday Cuddling guidelines with Hoseok again. “Yes, because I was the one who responded to it.”

“Predator.” Hoseok trills the ‘t’ sound.

“But most likely just a conceited douchebag,” Hyungwon says, mostly to get on Hoseok’s nerves.

Hoseok unlocks their fingers to pinch the inside of Hyungwon’s wrist. “Hey, you’re an adult, so if you want to talk to him, you can. Just know that I’m going to be in full Protective Best Friend Mode. I’ll be hiding in the bushes when you meet, making sure he doesn’t do anything weird—”

“You’re weird.” Hyungwon laughs. “You sound like a stalker. My own best friend is more a threat to me than this stranger.”

Hoseok moves the arm from around Hyungwon’s waist to cradle his head and bring it into his chest. Hyungwon yells at him to let go but the sound is muffled by his shirt. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, my son.” He sniffs dramatically. “You’re growing up too fast. Today, you’re chatting up strange boys; tomorrow, you’re having rushed sex in a McDonald’s bathroom.”

“Isn’t that how you lost your virginity?”

Hoseok scoffs like he’s been offended. “No, that was my first blow job. I lost my virginity like any good teenager in the back of my boyfriend’s pick up.”

Hyungwon smacks his lips. “Ah, yes, that’s right. How could I forget about your cliché teen movie deflowering?" 

“I’m honestly hurt you did. Big spoon?”

Heaving a sigh, Hyungwon rolls in Hoseok’s arms until his back is pressed up against the older man’s chest. “You don’t even deserve to be big spoon.”

“And yet, you must respect the law of dibs,” Hoseok says and twines their legs together.

Hyungwon doesn’t only have to review the Saturday Cuddling guidelines with Hoseok again; he also has to revise them. Why did he think it was a good idea to choose cuddling positions based on who yelled them out first?

“I’m guessing your new friend has called it quits?”

Craning his neck backwards, Hyungwon makes sure Hoseok sees his unimpressed expression. “You’re so concerned with me being even vaguely interested in talking to this guy and yet you’re also the only one thinking about him right now.”

“I’m making sure he’s not blowing up your phone, desperately trying to get in your pants.” Hoseok tugs at the elastic waistband of Hyungwon’s sweatpants for emphasis.

Hyungwon swats his hand away. “I need a new cuddling partner,” he grumbles to himself.

Hoseok laughs, sounding every bit of condescending someone can be while still being playful. “Good luck with finding someone. You’re practically a shut-in.”

“I did just fine before I asked you.” Hyungwon says, affronted.

“What about that biomedical kid whose heart you broke because he thought you wanted to go out with him but you were only interested in cuddling? Or when you turned to dating apps but quit because everyone you talked to just wanted to have sex?”

“Shut up, Hoseok.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hoseok starts, punctuating each ‘hey’ with a light slap to Hyungwon’s stomach. “Why don’t you ask your new friend to cuddle? I’m sure he and his ten inch dick would be more than happy.”

Barely suppressing an aggravated scream, Hyungwon slips out of Hoseok’s hold and onto the floor in front of the couch. All he wants is to be held and feel warm. Is that so much to ask for? He points in the direction of the front door. “Get out.”

Hoseok chuckles as he sits up. He tosses his arm over the back of the couch and bends his right leg. “This is my house. You’re free to leave, though.”

Hyungwon can feel the frown pulling his eyebrows together. “God, you’re annoying.” He pushes himself up off the floor and shuffles to the kitchen. He is not annoyed enough to go home but he also is no longer in the mood to cuddle. Therefore, the only thing left to do is eat all of Hoseok’s food.

“You love me!” Hoseok calls. The sound of the floorboards creaking tells Hyungwon that Hoseok has gotten up as well.

“Questionable!” he returns, opening the fridge.

Hoseok steps into the kitchen. His bare feet sound like they are sticking to the tile. “My mom’s lasagna should still be in there. Unless Soyu’s fat ass ate it all.”

Jihyun, or Soyu, as Hoseok calls her for some reason, is Hoseok’s childhood best friend and housemate. Hyungwon adores her but she’s often busy and recently found a new boyfriend, so Hyungwon hasn’t seen her around the place the last couple of times he’s been over. “I’ll tell her you called her that.”

“Well, if she kills me, then there is no one to save you from the Predator.” Hoseok shrugs. He comes up behind Hyungwon and knocks him out of the way with his hip. Bending over, he pushes containers and bottles out of the way. 

Rolling his eyes, Hyungwon kicks at Hoseok’s ankle. “For the last time, I have no plans of ever meeting this guy, okay?” He moves out of the way when Hoseok resurfaces with a medium sized plastic bowl.

Hoseok tosses the container onto the counter and reaches for the cabinet where they keep the plates and other dishes. “I know you don’t. But you know I worry like a parent sending their kid off to school for the first time.” He opens the cabinet and pulls out two square, black, stoneware plates. “So it’s either I joke about it to ease my mind or I give you the safety lecture. Do you want the lecture instead?”

“No, dad.” Hyungwon fetches a spoon to dig out the pasta with and hands it over to Hoseok who cracks open the lid covering the lasagna.

“Alright then, Twiggy, stop complaining and tell me how much you want."

FROM: Lee

14/10/03 02:19pm

did you hear giriboy is coming to campus next month?

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/03 02:34pm

Oh, yeah, I have a friend who really wants to go.

FROM: Lee

14/10/03 02:41pm

are you gonna go

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/03 02:44pm

Probably not. The ticket lines are always stupid long.

FROM: Lee

14/10/03 02:45pm

you right you right

FROM: Lee

14/10/06 07:30pm

if you don’t get back here in 10 there will be hell to pay you little bastard i fucking swear

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/06 07:31pm

Um…

FROM: Lee

14/10/06 07:31pm

hahaha whoops that was meant for my roommate

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/06 07:32pm

Please don’t do anything that’ll get you arrested. They’ll bring me into the station thinking I know what happened and I don’t have time for that.

FROM: Lee

14/10/06 07:33pm

no promises

 

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:12pm

Do you even go to class? I swear you do nothing but text me all day.

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:13pm

its called texting in class chae perhaps you’ve done it before

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:16pm

Let me rephrase: Do you even pay attention in class? I swear you do nothing but text me all day.

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:17pm

eh i’m not missing anything

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:17pm

Lee…

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:18pm

before you ground me and take away my toys, daddy

let me ask

are YOU paying attention in class rn???

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:18pm

I’m multitasking.

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:19pm

what a hypocrite

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:19pm

I’m an adult. I can do what I want.

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:21pm

lol then what does that make me. i’m older than you

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:22pm

By 2 months…

I’m worried about you, senpai

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:22pm

you say such weird shit sometimes and it throws me off

because your so lame and nerdy most of the time lol

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:26pm

I am neither of those things ?????

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:26pm

if you say so sweetheart :)

it’s okay. i think its cute

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:27pm  

Is that supposed to make me feel better?

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:27pm

yes because my validation is all that matters

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/08 12:30pm

You’re conceited

FROM: Lee

14/10/08 12:31pm

yes

 

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:04pm

two satellites decided to get married

the wedding was alright, but the reception was terrible

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:06pm

what do you call a fake noodle?

an impasta

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:07pm

why can’t you have a nose that’s 12 inches long

because then it would be a foot

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:09pm

what did the grape do when he got stepped on?

he let out a little wine

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:11pm

i bought shoes from a drug dealer once

i don’t know what he laced them with but i was tripping all day

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:12pm

oh and i have this great joke on paper

ah nevermind, it’s tearable

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:12pm

why can’t you hear the pterodactyl go to the bathroom?

because the pee is silent

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/11 10:13pm

You’re so funny hahahaha

Can you fucking stop? Oh my God.

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:15pm

you wanted to know if i could make a joke that wasnt vulgar

im giving you all these gems

and your still not havin it

wtf

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/11 10:21pm

I didn’t ask you to spam me with this shit.

Don’t make me end this relationship.

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:23pm

im breaking my back to keep you interested in me you bitch lol

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/11 10:24pm

These dad jokes aren’t cutting it, sorry to say.

If your spine hasn’t snapped in half, you’re not doing enough

FROM: Lee

14/10/11 10:24pm

damn why are your standards so high

RIP me

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/11 10:25pm

:* 

 

FROM: Lee

14/10/12 09:34am

hey

hey

hey

wake up

you have a study group to go to in an hour

wake up

zoijdhs

ioeije

jojfd

are you up yet?

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/12 09:45am

YES

STOP

JESUS

FROM: Lee

14/10/12 09:46am

your welcome

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/12 09:52am

I had a dream my design professor was telling me shitty jokes because of you.

FROM: Lee

14/10/12 09:54am

mission success

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/12 09:54am

I hate you.

FROM: Lee

14/10/12 09:54am

love you too babe

The bathroom is filled with steam when Minhyuk draws back the Doraemon shower curtain and steps onto the fluffy, orange bath mat lining the tub. His black towel hangs on the edge of the sink counter and he snatches it. After he dries off, he slathers on lotion and thinks about what he has to do today. He has a book analysis he needs to email to his literature professor before midnight. He also needs to draft an idea for his advertising presentation, message Hyunseong about the project they’re supposed to start working on, and do a million and one readings. Kihyun, the baby hipster, suggested they go to this local coffee shop with all organic snacks instead of the library, spouting out things about proper studying atmosphere and brain food.

Minhyuk wraps the towel around his waist and exits the bathroom. His and Kihyun’s bedroom is down the short hall on the left, across from Hyunwoo’s. Their door is open, smooth jazz filtering out into the hallway.

Kihyun, lying cross-legged, doesn’t look up from his bed in the right corner when Minhyuk walks in, face solid in concentration as he scrolls his finger down the screen of the phone in his hands.

Minhyuk wipes the water dripping down the side of his face, his hair still wet, and hones in on the familiar gray case enveloping the phone in his roommate’s hands. “What the hell are you doing with my phone? How did you even figure out my passcode?” He moves to their shared dresser — he uses the top two drawers and Kihyun uses the bottom two — and pulls out a pair of black boxer briefs. He drops his towel just as Kihyun looks up but Kihyun has walked in on Minhyuk in various states of undress before and Minhyuk is nothing if not shameless and so neither of them react.

“Your tiny brain can handle a password that’s only but so difficult for you to remember,” Kihyun says, deadpan. He turns his attention back to the phone. “I wanted to know who you’ve been texting. Why didn’t you tell me about this guy? You know I don’t care who you’re dating and you always tell me about the girls.”

Snorting as he pulls out the second drawer, Minhyuk searches for a shirt to wear. “We wouldn’t have been friends for this long if you had a problem with me, Straight Boy.” He picks out a white tee with a stylized graphic of the New York skyline across the chest. “I didn’t tell you about him because we’re not dating,” he explains and pulls the shirt over his head, careful of his hair. 

“You’re not dating yet.”

“We’re not dating ever. Haven’t you ever heard of friends? Oh, shit, maybe you haven’t. You see, Kihyun, friends are people who—” He erupts into laughter when Kihyun chucks one of his pillows at him. “I’m serious. I don’t even know what he looks like and you know I’m shallow like that.”

Kihyun sits up at his words and eyes him suspiciously. “What do you mean you don’t know what he looks like?”

Maneuvering around all of the shit ranging from books to dirty clothes they (read: Minhyuk) have scattered on the floor, Minhyuk goes to their closet to pull out the first pair of pants he sees. Black skinnies. He shrugs. “I don’t know what he looks like. We’ve never met face to face.”

Kihyun’s brows are knit in confusion when Minhyuk turns around with one leg in his jeans. “Is he like a Tinder match or something?”

“Or something? A bathroom stall, Tinder…Same thing, am I right?”

Silence falls between them as Minhyuk finishes getting dressed. It isn’t until Minhyuk is plugging in his hairdryer that Kihyun responds.

“Lee Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk flicks the dryer onto high power.

“No, no, no, no,” Kihyun chants over the sound of the air blowing. He hops off his bed and stomps across their small room. He isn’t strong enough to rip the dryer from Minhyuk’s hands, so he goes for the plug.

Minhyuk frowns. “Can I help you?”

“I know you do a lot of stupid shit, but what the actual fuck, Minhyuk?”

“Kihyun, let me live. We just talk. He’s cool.” Cool is not the right word — fun to annoy, endearing, maybe, but he doesn’t want to give Kihyun the wrong idea.

Either way, his roommate is still wary. “You ‘just talk’? It didn’t seem like you were ‘just talking’,” says Kihyun.

The frown on Minhyuk’s face blooms into a lazy smile. He curls his fingers around the cord of the dryer and tugs. It slips out of Kihyun’s hands. “That’s our dynamic,” he says and leans over the side of his bed to plug the dryer back in. “Like how I always make fun of your entire sad existence and you fail at retaliating.”

Kihyun rolls his eyes. “In the messages I read, you did nothing but flirt. You can’t call that a ‘dynamic’.”

“I can and I do and it is. Us talking is literally nothing. If you don’t believe me, that’s not my problem.” Shrugging, Minhyuk turns the dryer back on. He is surprised when Kihyun tosses his phone into his lap and returns to his own bed.

“That’s it? You haven’t cursed me out enough yet,” Minhyuk yells over the noise.

Lying on his back, Kihyun kicks his right leg around in an abstract gesture. “I’m saving it for later because I want to make sure there’s somewhere to sit at the cafe. And Hyunwoo will be home by then to back me up.”

“I’m really glad I went to school six hours away from home to escape the ‘rents just so you and Hyunwoo could fill in the gap,” Minhyuk mutters under his breath. His words are lost within the noise of the dryer.

It takes ten minutes for Minhyuk’s hair to dry after being blasted with air so hot it burns any patch of skin it’s directed at for too long. When he finishes, Kihyun is shoving books into his shoulder bag and mouthing along to the song playing through the speakers. He put on some mellow indie music no one but him has ever heard of before.

Minhyuk unplugs the hair dryer and leaves it sitting on his bed. He watches Kihyun for a second, and then he eyes the room for his own book bag. He thought he left it by the door, but it seems Kihyun has moved his stuff, again. Leaning over the edge of his bed, he spies it propped up against their tall, white, plastic storage unit. With a muted sigh — there’s no point in arguing with his roommate about his things being moved around — he reaches over to grab it, just barely able to wrap his fingers around the strap.

“Okay, so, I know I said I was going to let it go until later, but I need to ask one thing: were you the one who started it?” Kihyun asks, buckling the snap on his bag.

Minhyuk chuckles. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“Of course,” Kihyun scoffs.

“So, why are we staging an intervention?” Hyunwoo questions. He easily lifts Minhyuk’s legs up and off the couch and slides into the now open space.

Minhyuk wastes no time in kicking his legs over Hyunwoo’s lap. “I’m wondering the same thing,” he says without taking his eyes off his phone. He’s scrolling through his twitter feed lazily, completely uninterested in whatever is supposed to be happening.

He and Kihyun returned home about half an hour ago after spending about four hours cooped up in Hipster Hell. To be fair, he did get a decent amount of work done even if he was being assaulted by the smell of sandalwood incense burning the entire time. And Minhyuk isn’t a tea person but their jasmine blend was pretty nice.

Hyunwoo was in his room, blasting early 2000s R&B, when they arrived, but Kihyun was gracious enough to let Minhyuk eat the two chicken tacos he picked up on the way back in peace before asking Hyunwoo to join them in the living room.

Kihyun crosses his arms, leaning back in the soft, circular, lime green scoop chair he’s deemed the only safe place to sit since Minhyuk revealed the number of times he’s had sex on the couch. Minhyuk cackles to himself every time Kihyun sits there because Minhyuk has done it there to, he just never said anything. Kihyun would probably demand they replace every piece of furniture they have and ban Minhyuk from coming within arms length of everything if he found out.

“Because Frosty the Snowman over there—”

“Clever,” Minhyuk interjects with a snort.

“—has resorted to preying on innocent strangers and you know he never listens to me,” Kihyun explains.

“’Preying’ is such a strong, and also incorrect, word to use.” Minhyuk lowers his phone from his face and angles his head back to send Kihyun a blank look.

Hyunwoo raises his hand from his corner of the couch. “Can I get a proper explanation?” he asks, but he sounds like he doesn’t care. He probably doesn’t. Unless someone is at risk of getting hurt, he has a habit of going with the flow. Minhyuk does get into trouble often, but Kihyun also has a tendency to exaggerate.

“Minhyuk—”

“Okay, so, I ended up with this guy’s phone number, right?” Minhyuk cuts Kihyun off before he even starts. “And it just so happens that I came across his number in the bathroom in D Hall. Well, I got bored one day and decided to text him for the hell of it and he responded and now we’re friends. That’s it.”

“Minhyuk does nothing but flirt,” Kihyun stresses. “Like I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable the kid he’s talking to is. It’s hardcore flirting, like the kind you do before you ask someone to come home with you. And what if he’s not even who he says he is. That’s how you get infections or, most importantly, murdered, Minhyuk.”

Brushing Minhyuk’s legs off his lap, Hyunwoo lifts his hips to dig his wallet out of his pocket.

“You talk about me being stupid, but at least I have the common sense to know you’re wrong on both accounts,” Minhyuk says. His voice cracks at the end in surprise when something slaps his chin. Angling his head down, he feels for the unidentified flying object and brushes his fingers against a square packet. He raises it into his eye sight and lifts one corner of his lips at Hyunwoo in a lazy smirk.

“Use it. Get tested regularly,” advises Hyunwoo with a sage nod.

Kihyun bends over and slips his socks off his feet. Balling them together, he chucks them at Hyunwoo who laughs. “Are you fucking kidding me, Hyunwoo? You’re supposed to be the voice of reason.”

“It’s valuable advice.” Hyunwoo shrugs. He looks at Minhyuk who is inspecting the condom.

“It’s kind of funny because this is actually my size,” Minhyuk notes.

“I still don’t understand what’s going on but, Minhyuk,” Hyunwoo pauses and Minhyuk looks up at him with a raised brow, “don’t come on too strong and scare him away. You’re good at that. And if there are feelings involved, don’t be afraid to talk about them. You suck at that.”

Kihyun melts into the scoop chair with a groan, dragging his hands down his face.

Sitting up, Minhyuk folds his legs into a pretzel. He fiddles with the edge of the plastic wrapper and shoots Kihyun a glance full of amusement. “You know, in retrospect, I don’t know why I thought this would turn out in your favor when Hyunwoo is basically the definition of a ‘cool dad.’”

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment?” Hyunwoo says but his voice lilts like he can’t tell if being a ‘cool dad’ is a good thing.

Kihyun glares at him.

“Nobody likes a helicopter dad, Kihyun.” Minhyuk tsks playfully. “But, cheer up. I’m sure this’ll be a great story to tell your mom during your nightly texts.”

“Stop talking about my mom, you fuck.”

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/16 04:57pm

What do you think about handicap accessibility on campus?

FROM: Lee

14/10/16 05:15pm

uh idk

there are a lot of buildings with stairs leading ot the entrance so its not really wheelchair friendly?

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/16 05:32pm

That’s great. Thanks!

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/21 09:48pm

If you’re up at 1, could you text me and tell me to go home so I don’t end up sleeping in the library again?

FROM: Lee

14/10/21 09:50pm

you do realize you just revealed your location to me right

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/21 09:51pm

As if you’d step foot in the library, you creep.

FROM: Lee

14/10/21 09:51pm

trueeee.

i got you. study hard <3

FROM: bathroom boy chae

14/10/21 09:52pm

lol I’ll try. Thanks <3

“Can I get a grande caramel white mocha with nonfat milk, no foam, heavy whip, and caramel drizzle at 190 degrees?”

Hyungwon stares at the woman on the other side of the counter blankly, hoping his dead expression will draw some kind of guilt within her for ordering such a thing. By the way her powder pink lips dip into a frown and a line starts to crease her brow, it doesn’t work. 

“A grande caramel white mocha, nonfat, ix nay on the foam, extra whip, and caramel drizzle?” he recites while he reaches for a cup and a marker to scribble the order. He tries to keep his customer service voice on now that his customer service face is out of order.

“Can I get a name?”

“Dasom,” she replies.

He slides the cup over to where Changkyun is chatting up one of the girls sitting at the bar as he finishes making a chai latte. “Would you like to try any of our wonderful cakes or breads today as well?” he asks as he keys in the order.

Dasom glances at the display briefly before shaking her head. She opens up her wallet as Hyungwon reads off the total.

He knows the exact moment Changkyun picks up the cup to start the new order because there’s a mumbled ‘fuck this job’ just loud enough for Hyungwon to hear. It brings a slight smile to his face after primarily working bar during the lunch rush. Nothing says bonding between Starbucks employees like the mutual hate for their job.

“It’ll be just a minute,” he says. He watches Dasom move down the line to wait at the bar and sighs.

“Long day?”

Blinking, Hyungwon notices the man who has just stepped in front of his register. He looks one part sympathetic and two parts amused. At least someone can still find joy in this place.

“What would make you think so? I’m practically the poster child for job satisfaction,” Hyungwon replies, completely deadpan.

The guy laughs at response, all wide grin and eyes crinkled in mirth. It’s kind of an overreaction but Hyungwon still feels his lips raise into a small smile.

“What can I get for you?” he asks, sounding a lot more personable.

“Just a grande iced Americano. I have a four hour class in fifteen minutes and I don’t think I’m gonna make it through.”

Hyungwon winces as he keys in the order and grabs the appropriated sized cup. “That’s rough.”

“Tell me about it.” The customer runs his head through his hair. It’s a bright white and looks softer than Hyungwon assumed something so vivid should be. He’s kind of cute. Hyungwon feels a little starstruck, but it’s probably just the hair; he’s wearing nothing special, just an all black ensemble of a tee and jeans with a maroon (one of their school colors) hoodie tied around his waist.

Smiling, Hyungwon picks up the marker. “Can I have your name for the order?”

“Minhyuk.”

As he writes, Minhyuk speaks up again.

“Does that happen often?”

Hyungwon looks up and sees that Minhyuk is looking to the right. He follows his gaze to where Dasom is waiting for her drink, keeping herself occupied with her phone. He snorts. “That’s actually not so bad; we just hate ‘no foam’ requests. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit—” Hyungwon brings his hand to his mouth, “— some of the stuff people ask for. There’s a guy who comes in every other day during the morning rush for a venti, quad, half-caff, half-soy, half-nonfat, two pumps vanilla, two point five pumps white mocha, two scoops chocolate, extra dry cappuccino with extra chocolate drizzle.”

“I have no idea what you just said to me.” A small half-smile pulls at Minhyuk’s lips.

The door opening catches Hyungwon’s attention and he watches a group of three girls walk in. “Just know that you should never apply to work for this place,” he says before reading off Minhyuk’s total. As Minhyuk rummages for his wallet, Hyungwon fills the cup with ice and water.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to say that to me as an employee,” says Minhyuk. He slides a bill over the counter.

Sliding the cup over to Changkyun for the espresso, Hyungwon snorts. “I can say what I want for the dust they pay me.” He counts out the change and places it, as well as the receipt, in Minhyuk’s outstretched hand.

Minhyuk laughs. “Stay sane, man.”

“Yeah.” Hyungwon offers up a smile. “Good luck with class.”

After dropping his change into the charity donation box, Minhyuk leaves the register with a smile and a slight wave.

Hyungwon really hates this job, but the easy small-talk with some of the cute boys who come in sometimes makes it worth it.