Chapter Text
Yeosang
Saturday morning, June 24, 2028
Were all fancy spas like this?
A locker to store his shoes and clothes. A robe and slippers so soft and warm he wanted to steal them, though he had a feeling he could ask them to be added to his bill and a brand-new set would be waiting for him when he left. Light snacks, champagne even he could tell was higher-end, and the water? Natural minerals, in a real glass bottle.
And the room? As big as his undergrad dorm!
He smiled wryly as he gently set the champagne flute on a table and loosened the robe’s ties. It wasn’t thatbig, but whoever had designed the room had made it look enormous.
Now where should he...ah. Robe neatly hanging from a polished brass hook, he padded over to the massage table, slid off slippers he probably would ask for, and then—was he supposed to be face up or face down? Had they said? He couldn’t remember. Was there an expectation that he would just know?
“Overthinking,” he murmured. It wasn’t as if a stranger was going to walk into the room and make him feel judged.
He quickly slipped under the sheet and gasped. He vaguely knew about thread count, but who used sheets like this at a business? They felt silky. But they had to be cotton, what with massage oils and laundry and everything.
A soft knock on the door, and a familiar deep voice asking permission.
“Yeah.” Yeosang cleared his throat, then tried a little louder. “You can come in.”
And there he was, smoothly and softly shutting the door behind him, wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but it looked better on him.
Perhaps he was biased.
Mingi smiled at him, then paced to the sink near the back corner of the room. Yeosang couldn’t help himself.
“Is it marble?”
A low laugh mixed with the running water.
“It’s a lot, huh?”
So it was marble. Yeosang puffed out a breath of air. “You’ve definitely made it.”
“Mm.” The water shut off. “Lots more rules and regs, which I shouldn’t even be mentioning. But you’re not gonna tattle, are you?”
Yeosang snorted. “I stopped doing that at age 6. But you were the one whose face said everything. Our moms always knew.” He glanced up, noting with satisfaction the wide grin as Mingi leaned over the table, sliding a cushion under his knees. Something like that, anyway. He’d never asked, the few times he’d massages in the past.
Mingi moved away again. “Lavender, eucalyptus, sandalwood, ylang-ylang, chamomile & citrus. What’s your pleasure, Mr. Kang?”
Yeosang choked on an inhale. “Mr. Kang? That’s my dad.”
“Proper respect is part of what you’re paying for.” He sounded much too entertained.
“You choose. If I don’t like it, no tip.”
Bottles clinked behind him. “No can do. One of many fees built in.”
He should have known.
“Yeosang, Yeosang. Only marking shoulders and back? You’re bulking up again, so let’s add arms and, I dunno, see where the muscle knots guide me.”
He shook his head. “Why’d I even bother filling out the form?”
“Rules. Only breaking them for you.”
He closed his eyes as quiet steps again neared him. His left arm was gently placed on top of the sheets, and warm oil was smoothed onto his hand. Deliberate and careful strokes. It felt delicious.
“You’ve gotten a lot better.” Moving up his forearm. “Obvious, I guess. Been a while.”
Mingi hummed agreement, the movement of his hands steady and soothing.
How long had it been? When Mingi’d been a student in massage school? The last Christmas break of college? More than seven years would absolutely see an upgrade. Wouldn’t have been hired here if he hadn’t— “Wow.” Why had he delayed making an appointment? “Wait. Just me?”
“Need a little more context, Yeosang.”
His thoughts were already getting muddled, and he’d booked an hour.
“You said only breaking the rules for me. What about San and Yunho and Felix? Wooyoung and Hongjoong?”
“Hongjoong....” Mingi briefly went quiet, as his hands moved further up Yeosang’s arm. “His ex-wife was a massage therapist, first one I ever met. She used to spend nights at the bar, chatting with all of us. But after the divorce, he’s not a fan.”
He tensed as Mingi focused attention on what must have been a muscle knot.
“Relax.”
“Right. Good thing you added arms.” It’d feel better soon. “The others?”
“Mm. Yunho and San want what they want and Felix, he works here, too, remember?”
“So he doesn’t—and you, too, don’t?” How was Mingi making even concentrated work so marvelous? And the oil smelled divine.
“The two of us what?”
“No, I meant, you, too, T-O-O. Massage therapists don’t get massages?”
“We do, but different. Wooyoung, I guess I’d break the rules for him, too, but he’s been a regular client since the last place I worked. He knows I know what he needs.”
It’d used to be him, so close to Mingi, near reading each other’s thoughts, but these days....
It made sense, how long he’d been away. He let his thoughts drift, as Mingi continued smoothing tension out of each arm.
“You know, next weekend’s another grill-out.” Mingi’s voice was calm and relaxing, as his hands slid under Yeosang’s upper back, and slowly pulled upward.
“Ohhhhh.” God, it felt good.
“I know you’re busy, lawyer billing hours and all that, but I was hoping maybe...you think you could make it this time?”
He’d had a shiatsu-sorta chair mat for a year. It’d helped some, but nothing like this. He sighed as Mingi repeated the blissful whatever it was.
“Um, next weekend?” His eyes flew open and he groaned. “Next Friday.”
“No, Saturday. You can’t?” A slight frown on Mingi’s face.
“Not that. My mom’s been nonstop the last month. Settle down, son. Your sister’s engaged. Why aren’t you?” He should never have told her about Hyunjin and Seungmin saving up to adopt.
Mingi—bastard—chuckled. “We must seem that age to our parents.”
Yeosang tried to squint at him, but it was too much effort and his body kept relaxing more and more. “Bet yourparents haven’t said a word.”
“Nope,” Mingi replied cheerfully. “All that grandparent energy’s directed at my nephews.”
“Lucky. I didn’t—oh, right there, that’s perfect.” Thumbs pressing into the tops of his shoulders. “Really.” Halfway through the massage and he already felt like he was melting into the table.
“You didn’t what?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Friday. “I agreed to go on a blind date. Someone’s son from one of her groups.”
Mingi paused and gazed down at him, his lips twitching.
Amused, was he?
“I’m paying you to massage me, not pass judgment.”
“Yes, Mr. Kang.” A small smile as he resumed his work.
It was a little ridiculous, but his mother had looked so hopeful, he couldn’t say no. And he needed to put himself out there. Even if the only connections he formed were friendships, that’d be fine. He liked Mingi’s friends a lot, but they weren’t his friends.
“The date’s Friday night,” Yeosang mumbled.
“So, Saturday?”
“Sure.” He didn’t have any looming deadlines. “Next Saturday afternoon, I’ll be there.”
Mingi beamed at him. “Excellent. You’ll love it.”
*****
Mingi
still Saturday, June 24
THE Chat
Mingi:
Enjoying the day off, Lix?
Felix:
Yep!
Binging a drama.
It’s so sweet!
Hongjoong:
not many eps in then
they’ll break up
Mingi:
And get back together.
Hongjoong:
while the second male lead pines
pointlessly and helplessly
giving her all his attn
all to get kicked to the curb
when main dude realizes
somebody else wants her
Felix:
Cynic.
Hongjoong:
realist
Mingi:
Moving on.
What’s everyone planning tonight?
He took another bite of his sandwich and grimaced. It saved money and time, bringing his own lunch. But if he failed yet again to find decently crisp lettuce? Back to the gourmet deli next door, cost be damned. Because really, how was a person supposed to ignore temptation like that?
Yunho:
Movie night!
Then again...
Hongjoong:
training a newbie
michael-call-me-mike!!
he’s exhausting
what kind of bartender’s chipper??
morning people thing
we work at night
Wooyoung:
A positive attitude and a bright smile’s
gonna get more tips than a sour frown.
Hongjoong:
hey!!
If he bought pricey lunches every day...
Mingi:
Hongjoong smiles.
Sometimes.
Hongjoong:
fuck you both
Felix:
You make amazing drinks!
And you never forget a name
or order!
Hongjoong:
thank you
His book budget would take a hit. Mingi sighed and took another bite. Maybe a different grocery store?
Mingi:
Which movie?
Yunho:
San’s pick.
Felix:
OR you could start this drama!
San:
A love triangle?
Hongjoong:
see
not just me
Yunho:
Endgame throuple,
new frontier for dramas?
Wooyoung:
YES
Felix:
I have seen MMF in
a few manhwas.
Wooyoung:
MMM
Hongjoong:
never get past censorship
Hmmm....
Mingi:
Pseudo-historical fantasy,
heavenly realm and
demon realm,
princes of each fighting
over a human,
poorly written peace treaty
has the guy alternating
time with each.
Wooyoung:
They get jealous.
Felix:
The princes fight again!
Wooyoung:
A HEATED confrontation.
Yunho:
Swords as metaphors?
Wooyoung:
Hah!
“Hey, Mingi.”
He glanced at the manicurist sitting next to him and she nodded at the clock. Ten minutes, then back to the grind.
“Thanks.”
One last, reluctant bite, then he balled up the wax paper and dropped it back into his lunch sack.
San
San:
Mingi?
Mingi:
Yeah?
San:
I did it!
Went to the gym like normal—
I can’t lie—
but quickest workout ever.
Then the jeweler’s, and, oh,
Mingi, they’re beautiful.
Brushed gold, both of our birthstones,
names written inside
in perfect Hangul.
“You okay?”
“Huh?”
His coworker gestured up at him.
Wait. Up? He laughed. “Good news. Didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry.”
Mingi:
Dude.
I literally jumped out of my chair,
reading that.
San:
You didn’t!
Mingi:
Yep.
San:
lol
Mingi:
It’s exciting, Sani!
San:
Yeah.
Yeah, it is.
Mingi:
When?
San:
Tonight.
If I wait, I just know
he’ll find them,
and there goes
all my secret planning
and it wouldn’t be the same.
Damn. Only four minutes left.
Mingi:
We have to celebrate next weekend.
San:
If he says yes.
Mingi:
As if that’s even in question.
San:
Well.
Mingi:
Exactly.
Text me later?
My break’s up.
San:
Will do!
*****
Yeosang
Tuesday, June 27, the following week
He didn’t regret the years spent at his previous firm. Sure, the hours had been demanding, but professors and textbooks could never teach you the skills of a senior partner. He hadn’t reached his mentor’s level of persuasive client management, but the examples she’d set were the best lessons he’d ever had.
“Mrs. Peterson, I sympathize, I truly do, but you can’t condition inheritance on your grandson’s having boys before he’s 35.” He pressed his fingers against his temple. Patience, his mentor had said, endless patience and a relentlessly calm, logical voice.
A thirty-minute phone call was easily within his limits, but sometimes.... He took a slow, quiet breath as the client explained, yet again, the importance of continuing the family name.
Patience and calm.
“Of course, Mrs. Peterson, but I’m afraid courts don’t look kindly on wills or trusts that require outcomes beyond human control.” Was she really going to argue for an IVF clause? No judge would allow that to stand. “Yes, scientific advances are remarkable, but the human body has a mind of its own.” He winced at the pun, but she was laughing.
And now telling him stories about her grandson and his fifth birthday party two weeks ago.
Patience and calm.
Twenty minutes later, he ended the call. 1:26. He still had time.
***
“I love long phone calls.” Jongho speared a piece of chicken and waved it in the air. “As billable as in person, but I don’t have to smile and smile and smile.”
Yeosang rolled his eyes and ate another spoonful of stew. Bless his sister for a useful graduation gift. Even hecouldn’t fuck up a slow cooker and recipe book.
“Your clients are criminals,” he observed dryly. “Why would you smile?”
Jongho chewed, swallowed, and shrugged. “A bit of insider trading, a little embezzlement—that’s not really a crime to most of my clients. They were just being helpful. Or borrowing.” He grinned. “If I stared at them as judgmentally as I do in my head, they’d find another lawyer. Can’t have that.”
No arguing that point.
“And that’s why I prefer phone calls. White collar doesn’t equal charming, no matter how TV shows like to play it. But that’s a boring topic.” Jongho looked around the room, then leaned closer. “My wife wanted me to wish you luck on Friday.”
Friday. Yeosang set down his spoon. The closer the day got, the more he wished he hadn’t given in.
“It won’t be that bad.” Jongho’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Unless he asks for free legal advice, most annoying possibility is being bored. Can’t be worse than last month’s legal ed seminar.”
“Low bar,” Yeosang said.
“It’s an annual event.” Jongho sighed. “To be expected, when a founding partner’s husband is an ‘expert’ on international law, with all the charm and charisma of a damp towel.”
“Jongho,” Yeosang hissed. The break room was fairly large, and people did seem preoccupied, but what if someone overheard?
His friend waved a dismissive hand as he chewed and swallowed. “Everyone knows. But back to Friday. If it doesn’t work out, Kathleen has several single friends, men and women. Say the word, I’ll let her know.”
“Uh.” It was a kind offer. Yeosang bit his lip, frantically searching his mind for an excuse.
“Or not.” Jongho chuckled. “Don’t worry so much, Yeosang.” His eyes flicked to his watch. “Almost 2:00.”
“Damn.” As quickly as he could, Yeosang finished his stew, then snapped the lid on the bowl. He’d reserved one of the smaller conference rooms for 2:20, and he had to swing by his office first. New clients and first impressions. He couldn’t be late.
Jongho nodded at him. “Best of luck. Today and Friday.”
“Thanks.” He stood and crossed the room, bowl and napkin-wrapped spoon in one hand, bottled water in the other. It’d be fine. He’d done this many times. All he had to do was shove Friday worries into a mental lockbox, and he’d be as calm as he needed to appear. After work, he’d hit the gym, sweat it all out, and the rest of the week would go swimmingly.
*****
Mingi
Thursday evening, June 29, two days later
Sparklers. Streamers, too, more than they’d need, but Wooyoung had grabbed all the rolls from his hands and thrown them in the cart. Though how he was supposed to find space for that many strips of colored paper, he had no idea.
Wooyoung picked up a branch of artificial flowers, then tossed them in as well.
“Roses?” He raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung and gave the cart a push. They needed balloons, and then they needed to hit the grocery store, order a cake, and—
“It seemed engagement-y.” He shrugged. “And they won’t die on you.”
“I don’t have a vase. Do not pick one up.” He swatted Wooyoung’s hand away from a shelf. “Figure out the streamers.”
“Uhhh.” Wooyoung sidestepped another floral display and a scattering of tiny wooden benches. “Throw them on the tree?”
Mingi side-eyed him.
“What? It’s easy. Why are there pinecones on display in June? Jesus, Mingi, what is this place?”
Balloons had been that way, hadn’t they? He pivoted the cart. “Home décor meets arts and crafts meets celebrating anything at any time for anyone.” Oh, God, not more lawn gnomes. He hastily swerved around them.
Two more aisles? Maybe?
“A Frankenstein of capitalism.” Wooyoung nodded as he pulled out his phone. “Got it.”
“Frankenstein isn’t the monster, he’s the creator.” Why did everyone always get it wrong? The book’s title, sure, but it wasn’t about the creature. Poor thing never got a name.
“Sure, sure.”
What had he and Yeosang named it? Tenth grade felt like forever ago. Maybe it was. Ah, yeah, balloons, there they were. What would look best outside? What would make Yunho and San laugh? Cheesy? Maybe. He scanned through the catalog of possibilities. Some were sweet, or as sweet as one could get on an 18-inch helium-filled balloon.
“What about this?” Wooyoung flipped his phone around, tapping on the screen.
Streamers twisted and looped from branch to branch of a pine tree.
He sighed. “Wooyoung. The tree in my backyard has all of two branches within reaching distance. And I am not buying a ladder.”
“Spoilsport.” Wooyoung scrunched up his hose. “Inside the house? Oooh! They could dangle from doorways and get looped across rooms.”
Mingi stared at his best friend in silence.
“I’ll put them up and I’ll take them down.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Happy?”
“Yes.” Prying tape off walls was a pain in the ass. “What do you think of this one?” He pointed to the catalog and shifted over to give Wooyoung room.
“‘All you need is love’?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Even had a cute bear on the side. San would love it.
“Do you want Hongjoong to start listing the ‘true essentials’ of life again?” Wooyoung flipped the page over, humming softly. “‘Life, love, and happiness.’ He can’t argue they don’t exist. And maybe this one with the hearts and this one with the giant diamond ring and oh, yeah,” he grinned at Mingi, “definitely the one with the dancing dog and cat.”
“The one that says ‘happy adoption’?” Mingi asked dryly.
“Confusion is good for the soul.” Wooyoung laughed. “That’s what Yeosang said.”
“Sounds like him.” The scent of the store, pseudo-woodsy with an overlay of cinnamon and what he would swear was toasted coconut, was getting to him. “I’ll order these online.” He nudged Wooyoung to the side and spun the cart toward the check-out.
“Who do you think will be next?”
“Hm?” He shot a look at Wooyoung. “Next for what?”
“Engagement, of course,” Wooyoung said breezily. “Not Hongjoong. Mention dating to him and his mouth puckers like he’s sucked a lemon.” He clicked his tongue. “Divorces aren’t the end of romance forever and ever.”
When they went as badly as Hongjoong’s had? “Bartenders hear a lot of unfortunate stories.”
“Yunho’s a divorce lawyer,” Wooyoung said. “And yet!”
“San, when determined, is hard to resist.” How many times had he seen San set his mind to it and get exactly what he wanted? Better question: how often had he failed? Mingi smiled. “He could write a book, call it Powers of Persistence. Something like that.”
“Valid point. What—” Wooyoung craned his neck to the side as they passed a display of flashing neon signs. “Were those supposed to be people?”
Shakespeare’s profile outlined in bright magenta was a sight to see. Wait! It’d been after him!
“Bill. Knew I hadn’t forgotten.” He chuckled.
“What?”
“Bill. What Yeosang and I named Frankenstein’s monster in 10th grade English.” He steered the cart to the back of a line.
“Of course you did.” Wooyoung’s mouth twitched. “Hey, what about him? Felix, God, I can’t keep up with his boyfriends. And you and I are single as hell. Maybe Yeosang’ll be the next one engaged.”
What an odd thought.
“He’s not seeing anyone.” Why did a crafts store have cold drinks at check-out?
“Yet.” Wooyoung slid open the plastic door and grabbed a Coke. “Didn’t you say he’s got a blind date tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, but he’s only doing it to get his mom to back off.” The line moved forward and he gave the cart a small push.
“Never know. Could be his soulmate.”
“Yeah, right.”
Wooyoung twisted the cap off his drink and took a swig. “Mm. Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
*****
Yeosang
Friday night, June 30, following night
Dance Dance Revolution
Yeosang:
Without contest,
the most boring
evening of my life.
I would rather
study for my tax law
final twice more than
go out with that guy
ever again.
He hadn’t craved a beer so intensely in months.
Hyunjin:
Ouch.
Cold, malty, and honey-sweet. He eased onto the sofa with a sigh.
Seonghwa:
You hated tax law.
Minho:
No, he didn’t.
He disliked the teacher, his methodology,
his grading, his over-wordy yet absurd
essay questions and his voice.
Never a problem with the law.
Hyunjin:
What was wrong with the guy?
Yeosang took another sip. How to explain?
Yeosang:
Nothing wrong.
Perfectly nice.
But dull, dull, dull.
Dinner?
All he could talk about?
Medium-chain fatty acids
and their dietary benefits.
Seonghwa:
And those are?
Yeosang:
Dunno.
I kept tuning him out.
Not on purpose!
I do have manners.
But the drone of
his voice and
all those words
I didn’t recognize?
It was a struggle
to stay awake.
Realizing he’d missed whole chunks of conversation, he’d felt mortified. At first.
Minho:
Should’ve left then.
Waste of time to linger.
Hyunjin:
Because Yeosang’s mother
would never have heard about that
from her friend.
Yeosang shuddered. And she never, ever would have let him hear the end of it.
Seonghwa:
Etiquette.
Minho:
Useless and pointless on terrible dates.
Hyunjin:
The longer you’re a professor,
the ruder you get.
Minho:
Oh, and you’re an angel about your
seventh-graders.
Hah!
Seonghwa:
Peace!
Yeosang.
Just dinner?
His grin faded.
Yeosang:
No.
My date had the bright
idea to get us tickets to
a comedy show.
Started off fine.
Then he said:
“I don’t get it.”
Okay, sure.
Happens.
The 17th time he said that
I thought my teeth
might crack, I was
gritting them so hard.
Hyunjin:
Oooooh.
Yeosang:
Yeah.
Seonghwa:
Your mother?
She’ll be satisfied?
Yeosang:
God, I hope so.
Enough about my tedious night.
How’s Josh?
Seonghwa:
Delightful.
image1.jpg
Yeosang:
Uh, Seonghwa?
Hyunjin:
Did you sneak that photo
in the locker room?
Seonghwa:
Maybe.
Minho:
Always knew you were a voyeur.
Yeosang:
And how did you
know this?
Hyunjin:
Have any secrets to share?
Minho:
The Tik-Toks he sent when drunk,
in college, were a good clue.
Yeosang paused, bottle halfway to his mouth. Tik-Toks in college?
Yeosang:
I never got those.
Seonghwa:
Just you, Minho.
Minho:
...........
Minho, at a loss for words?
Minho:
If you’d wanted to get fucked,
you should’ve asked.
Yeosang burst out laughing. He could see Seonghwa’s startled face. He never could take what he dished out.
Hyunjin:
I just ate.
Can we not?
Seonghwa:
Um. So.
It’s all going well!
With Joshua.
And the head librarian put me in charge
of the YA display next month!
And topic shift. He took a long pull of his beer and set it on the coffee table.
Yeosang:
Congratulations.
Hyunjin:
Buy some whiskey.
Seonghwa:
Why?
Hyunjin:
At least 60% of YA
these days, you need
your brain numbed,
to make it through.
Plot holes big as the Grand Canyon.
And e-v-e-r-y-thing is INTENSE.
Seonghwa:
That’s what it felt like,
back then.
Yeosang:
Hyunjin, you’re still intense.
Hyunjin:
I have better dialogue!
Yeosang:
With yourself?
Minho:
Isn’t that a sign of madness?
Seonghwa:
Don’t go insane, Jinnie!
I’d miss you!
And they were off. He grinned at the phone. God, he missed them. Even when they went long stretches too busy to talk much, the three of them were still his closest and most trusted...he chewed on his lower lip as he stared at the wall. Framed photos from all their graduations—they’d flown back for Hyunjin’s.
But next to those, in a silver-gilt frame he’d treasured for ten years, was him and Mingi. That they’d replace each other had seemed impossible, back then.
He shook his head. No sense worrying about it now.
Minho:
I, ah, actually have news.
Yeosang:
Oh?
Minho:
The search committee asked me
for a second interview.
Hope and anxiety prickled under his skin.
Yeosang:
Oh!
Minho:
And they sat in on my choreo
and modern I classes.
Hyunjin:
Bet they were blown away.
Minho:
I’ve been an instructor for a while.
But damn, I was nervous.
Seonghwa:
Understandable!
Hyunjin:
Are there more steps?
Minho:
They discuss the top picks.
Then they, well, pick.
Jisung’s trying, and failing,
to be chill.
Almost makes me dread the idea
of getting it.
He’d be unbearably loud for weeks.
Yeosang:
More like months.
Minho:
Hm.
Yes.
Most likely.
Seonghwa:
Still cute, though.
Minho:
He always is.
Yeosang:
The second you hear,
after you call Jisung....
Minho:
Of course.
Hyunjin:
Good things come in threes.
Seungmin’s raise put us closer
to the target goal.
Seonghwa got promoted.
And now this.
Minho:
Universities are picky.
Seonghwa:
You’ve got articles.
Yeosang:
The chapter in that book.
Seonghwa:
Highest-rated teacher in the whole department!
Yeosang:
Presentations!
Hyunjin:
The juried shows count, don’t they?
Minho:
It all does.
But no point dwelling.
It’ll happen or it won’t.
Tenure-track. If he got this job, then someday, maybe full professor. If anyone deserved it, Minho did.
Hyunjin:
Ah, shit.
Seungmin burned dinner again.
I gotta go.
Yeosang:
Why he won’t follow instructions
written by real, serious cooks,
is utterly beyond me.
Hyunjin:
God only knows.
Minho:
Red wine braised beef.
Seonghwa:
I made paella.
Hyunjin:
How lovely.
We’ll be having mac’n cheese,
fresh from the box
the store sold it in.
Yeosang:
After you cook it.
Hyunjin:
Good night!
He really, really missed them.
***
Yeosang yawned and stretched, feeling almost sleepy, but not quite. He pushed his pillow higher up against the headboard and picked up his phone. That mystery he’d downloaded earlier would—how had he missed Mingi’s texts?
Mingi:
So were you left swooning
after the date?
Is your heart racing,
overjoyed you’ve met the one?
Yeosang:
Y’know, even if I’d seen these
when you sent them,
I’d have left you on read
for the horrifying visuals.
Mingi:
Didn’t go well?
Yeosang:
Boring.
Mingi:
Score?
Yeosang:
Beige.
Mingi:
Not good.
Yeosang:
On second thought,
off-white.
Mingi:
.....
I am so sorry.
Yeosang:
Tomorrow will be my reward
for making it through.
Mingi:
I’m flattered.
Yeosang:
Just because it’s
at your house
doesn’t mean
it’s about you.
Mingi:
And now I’m hurt.
Yeosang snorted. As if.
Mingi:
Who are you coming to see?
Yeosang:
Felix, of course.
Mingi:
That...is a valid choice.
Yeosang:
I am full of validity.
Mingi:
Affirmations, even.
Yeosang:
Motivational speeches.
Mingi:
Now, look.
That’s crossing the line.
Sometimes whole weeks went by where they barely talked. No one to blame for it, just happened.
Yeosang:
But everybody’s crazy
‘bout a sharp-dressed man.
Mingi:
Every girl.
Yeosang:
Life accuracy > lyrics.
Mingi:
Point taken and appreciated.
But see, if you were here,
you could blast the song
from speakers.
No neighbors sharing walls
to complain.
Yeosang:
If I was there,
I couldn’t Tom Cruise
around the living room.
Mingi:
Why the hell not?
That’s a classic scene!
I’d join you!
Yeosang laughed. And other times, it felt as if he’d never moved away, as if they were the same as they’d used to be, with some years added.
Yeosang:
Your dad still have the vinyls
and VHS tapes?
Mingi:
What do you think?
Yeosang:
Wondered if I should stop by
that secondhand shop,
before dropping by.
Mingi:
You’re seeking to reclaim
the throne, aren’t you?
Yeosang:
Of most favored son?
Mmmmmm.
Maybe.
Mingi:
All you gotta do is show up.
Mom’ll make every food she
remembers you like and
dad’ll challenge you to a dance-off.
He really should visit them. Growing up, Mingi’s house had, quite literally, been his second home.
Yeosang:
He’ll win.
Mingi:
Always does.
But I gotta crash.
Working 8-2 tomorrow and
then I gotta pick up the cake
and make sure Wooyoung
hasn’t confetti-bombed
the living room.
Yeosang:
Confetti bombs > glitter bombs.
Mingi:
Wooyoung ever does that,
I’m taking back the spare key.
Yeosang:
Bet he has a copy,
just in case.
Mingi:
Hah!
He probably does.
Sleep well, Yeosang.
Yeosang:
You, too.
*****
Mingi
July 1, Saturday evening, next day
He’d nearly hit a mailbox when one of the balloons had floated into the front of his car. He’d had to walk around the entire grocery five times as the bakery staff changed “Happy Anniversary Sunny and John” to “Congratulations San and Yunho.” How they’d mixed that up, he had no idea, but the time it took to scrape off the frosting, reapply, and redo a few simple words had not been budgeted for.
When he got home, Wooyoung was halfway through twisting and taping streamers to every doorway. Which would have been fine, except he’d had to duck, and then gently remind Wooyoung some people were not short. He’d tried not to laugh. And then found the job reassigned to him as Wooyoung took over in the kitchen.
But it was all worth it. Felix had persuaded Yunho and San to wear little wreaths he’d somehow woven from the fake roses. Hongjoong had made strawberry margaritas. And Yeosang—Mingi grinned at his friend, now sitting at the dining room table indoors, hands folded, listening quietly to the chatter and laughter. Yeosang had dug deep into his past, pulling up a cheerleading routine Mingi instantly remembered.
Sparklers instead of pom poms probably wasn’t the safest choice, but it’d been amazing to watch. His instant reversion to calm and collected after the applause and bows had set them all off into fits of laughter.
Yeosang was becoming part of the group, and God, it made Mingi happy.
“How are you gonna choose?” Felix asked, looking at the printouts scattered across the table.
Good things his printer hadn’t been low on ink.
San, cheeks flushed from his second margarita, shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Where it’s held can make destination weddings cheaper than here. But fewer guests’ll be able to come. And that’s sad.”
“Who do you want to be there?” Wooyoung held up a hand. “Not who should or who’ll bitch if they don’t get an invite. Who’ll make it special?”
Hongjoong raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Remarkably patient, given how long the wedding talk had been going on.
Mingi glanced at the grandfather clock wedged between bookcases. 9:36 p.m. Not too late, but maybe he should start thinking about more food?
“My sister’s got a wedding planner,” Yeosang offered. “They do all the details and seem to keep stress quite low.”
Yunho tapped a finger on the table. “That’s what I said. Let someone else handle bookings and who officiates and where you even get the right decorations and flowers. I’ll happily pay for all that to be arranged by a pro.”
San pouted.
Mingi shot Hongjoong a questioning look. Hadn’t he made San’s drinks lighter on the tequila? Hongjoong’s mouth quirked to one side.
How very helpful.
“It’d still be fun, Sani,” Felix said coaxingly. “You could brainstorm with a planner! But think of the work. Do you wanna make dozens of cold calls?” He took a sip of water and then picked up two printouts. “A beach. Okay. Which? When? Or theme. So many to choose from!”
“Well....” San hesitated.
“Not like you have to decide tonight,” Hongjoong interjected before standing up. “I’m craving fresh air and Thai. Anyone else?”
“Oh! Me,” Yeosang said quickly. “Yes to both, if I may.”
Hongjoong smiled, then swept the table with a glance. “Regular orders?”
Everyone agreed and Hongjoong and Yeosang strolled under the pink and violet streamers toward the living room and its sliding glass patio doors.
A minute later, Wooyoung, his gaze still fixed in the direction the other two had taken, cursed softly.
“It’s okay,” Mingi said reassuringly. “He’s just a little maxed out.”
“Yeah, but....” Felix bit his lip.
San dropped his head into his hands. “I shouldn’t have had you do the printouts,” he mumbled.
Yunho patted him on the back. “Five, ten minutes with Yeosang, he’ll come back laughing and relaxed.”
Pride curled in Mingi’s chest. Hearing Yeosang praised always made him feel warm, a sort of vicarious happiness. People didn’t always recognize his oldest friend’s gift for soothing troubled minds. Probably helped him as a lawyer, though no jokes allowed then!
Wooyoung straightened and folded the papers and handed them to Yunho. A brief nod and they disappeared into an inner pocket.
Had he ever seen Yunho without a sports coat?
“Yunho’s right, San,” Wooyoung said briskly. “When they come back, all will be fine. But wouldn’t hurt if we moved to the living room.”
“Oh!” Felix brightened. “We could watch a show. Running Man? That’s always fun.”
San slowly lifted his head. “Happy chaos.”
He was too cute. Mingi chuckled and stood up. “Right! Running Man it is.”
*****
Yeosang
Monday morning, July 3, a couple days later
Twenty minutes until his next appointment. Too early for lunch. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, his feet pushing the chair slowly back and forth. Last week’s date had been miserable, but seeing how happy Yunho and San were the night after had been a strong argument for not giving up.
Maybe his mother was right. Maybe he was overdue for a relationship.
His mouth quirked. Overdue. Like a library book. Ridiculous. Plenty of people his age and older were still single. Not always by choice, but there had to be a lot with zero interest in dating, let alone marriage. Just as there were countless people in serious relationships.
What did he truly want?
Yeosang let his gaze trail around the room, his degrees and law licenses in frames on the wall, a wooden clock ticking away, a blown-up skyline photo he’d taken during his junior semester in Seoul. Two leather chairs for clients, co-workers, anyone, he supposed. Not that he had outside visitors. A slim bookshelf of law books, even though everything he needed was more easily found online. His desk. His chair. All very tidy.
As it should be.
He sighed. If only his life was so easily sorted.
What did he want?
Not to drift along, as he had been, doing little to change anything. He wanted someone to smile at him like Yunho did with San. He swiveled his chair around, staring out the window. Pretty day.
He wanted someone to share secrets with, to talk to until they both fell asleep, to comfort and trust and give his heart to.
His face heated. He wasn’t usually sentimental, but if he couldn’t be honest with himself, then who? No one.
Which...was the point.
But another blind date? He shook his head. He refused to let his mother try again, and nice as it had been of Jongho to offer, they’d only met five months ago. Sure, he’d had dinner with him and Kathleen a handful of times, but it wasn’t enough to pair him up with someone.
There were apps, of course, but swiping left or right or whatever one did, it wasn’t appealing. He wasn’t a social butterfly, far from it, and even if he could get up the courage to flirt with strangers at the gym, how would he know who was single? How embarrassing to be wrong!
Yeosang drew his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and pulled up the browser. He’d already filled out the form. All he had to do was click submit, and he’d be registered.
Yes?
No?
His eyes flicked to the time. Only a few minutes left.
“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “You can do this.” He let out a quick breath and tapped the screen.
Data sent. Soon there’d be an email confirming date and time for his first attempt at speed dating. New didn’t have to be scary. It’d go fine, he was sure of it.