Chapter Text
I'm not okay
Excuse the screaming, I just thought you needed to know
I'm not okay
Don't you worry, I've got everything in control
I'm not okay
I'm nervous, struggling to be perfect, and that's okay
I'm hurting, and finally got the nerve to say
"I'm not okay"
- Chanmina
Can I call you hyung? - Minho
The doorbell chimed as Minho entered the café. He’d never been there before, and was surprised by how spacious it felt. It was furnished with light wooden tables, wide sofas with pillows in soft pastel colours, combined with rounded rattan chairs. The lamps were large orbs in various sizes and colours, made of shimmering fabric. They reminded him of soap bubbles, just a little more elegant. Wasn’t it crazy that such a place had opened on their street? Maybe this area was becoming gentrified? The thought made him giggle. He had to bring Hyunjin here—he’d love it.
Taking his iced americano, Minho chose a table and sat down. The room was almost empty, only a few people had found their way here. Some of them spoke in low voices, others sat alone, focusing on their laptops. Minho took out the heavy textbook for the SQL course and opened it, putting his long, brown bangs behind his ears. He had one and a half hour to try and cram a chapter into his brain.
The bell chimed again, but from where he sat, he couldn’t see who was entering. Soon, the new guest rounded the corner, and Minho looked up. A burgundy red, frizzy hair met his gaze. Immediately recognising the guy, he snorted. The other person’s face lit up as their gazes met. “Oh, are you here? Can I sit with you?”
Before Minho had the chance to respond, or even point to the textbook, the guy had taken a seat across of him. The sleeves of his striped black and white shirt were way too long. Holes at the chest showed a blood red fabric underneath, and the largest hole was held together by an oversized safety pin. Minho had to command him for effort, choosing such elaborate clothes on a regular afternoon like this. Was he well-rested? He’d been pretty drunk last night, hadn’t he?
The guy shoved the sleeves up over his elbows and lifted the drink to his lips, while looking Minho in the eye. Then he put the glass down, a little too firmly, as if the volume of everything he touched automatically increased.
“Yesterday was awesome, don’t you think?” His voice was overly cheery.
Minho looked at him, incredulously. “Yeah, sure, it was great.” To counter how that guy had sounded, it came out flat, as if he wanted to keep it as matter-of-fact as possible.
The guy’s dark eyes narrowed. “But what was up with your guitarist… Did he feel a need to put me in place, since I might outshine you guys?”
“Excuse me?” Minho stared at him. He couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking. He had to be joking, right? No matter what, they seemed to have very different views on what had happened last night. Was he perhaps someone completely oblivious of how other people perceived him?
*
The night before
The Double Knot gig had ended, and the members, namely Minho, Hyunjin and Changbin, were taking down their equipment, when this red haired guy came forward as if shot by a cannon. His eyes were targeting Hyunjin only.
“That was awesome... and you looked so damn cool onstage, I was like—Hyunjin is unbelievably good-looking when you see him up close…”
A shade of skepticism flickered over Hyunjin’s face, before reverting to his usual kindness, stroking a strand of icy blue hair from his face. “Thanks. Your set was pretty cool too.”
“You think? I’ve been practising like crazy… it’s hard to do all of it alone. Usually, I have someone to help out with at least the practical bits, but this time, I really had to do everything by myself… but I agree, it went well, the parts that I could control at least… I mean, the songs are good, right?”
The guy kept rambling, speaking so fast he was stumbling on the words. It was hard to tell if he was mostly drunk or mostly nervous, or a combination of both. Changbin was standing next to Hyunjin, his movements deliberate as he rolled up a cable, as if he wanted to hear where this would go. Minho was taking his drum kit down, listening without showing it.
The person who wouldn’t stop speaking had been playing as an opening act for their show, assigned by the club, and neither of them had ever heard of him. His stage name was Nanahan, and Minho didn’t know his real name. To be honest, his show had been great. The songs had strong melodies that were mixed up with unconventional rhythms and interesting sounds. This person sung extremely well, he rapped at times, he played the guitar, and used a wide variety of effects, drum machines, synths and samplers… It had been impressive to say the least, but during his sound check, he’d been overly picky and unnecessarily harsh toward one of the technicians. Minho didn’t have a lot of patience with people who took their own insecurities out on others. He sighed while unscrewing the cymbals, and the guy kept talking to Hyunjin.
“The thing that bugs me is that I think it could have been a lot better if only the sound had been up to par.” Now he seemed to seek concordance in Hyunjin’s eyes, but since Hyunjin looked neutral, he kept riling himself up instead. “I don’t know what you think, but I’d say it was even more notable during your show. The mixing definitely stood out, and I don’t mean in a good way…”
“You think?” Hyunjin lifted an eyebrow.
“Yeah, for sure, and, actually, I think you should have spoken up about it, demanding him to change things. You should never settle for anything less than perfect.”
Hyunjin scoffed, eying him as if he were shrinking in front of him, and Changbin turned his face with his eyes flashing. “Know what. We don’t. If you didn’t like it, then maybe our music isn’t for you.”
The eyes of the guy went wide, and he blinked a few times. “Oh, no, that’s not it… I love your music. I’m like, a fan… I was even thinking, maybe we could do something together…”
“I don’t think so,” Changbin snapped, shooing him off with the hand holding the cable. “And we have a lot to fix here right now, so can you please let us get done?”
*
Minho sat with the textbook in front of him, looking at the guy with a questioning face.
“Otherwise, I don’t know why he had to say that,” the guy said, his mouth pouting slightly. Red spots were blossoming on his cheeks. “I just gave my view of how the set was perceived. It’s a shame when great songs like yours get blurred out by bad mixing. I thought I should tell you, so that next time during sound check, Hyunjin could make sure that the sound’s good enough.” His black, round eyes stared intently into Minho’s. “I didn’t mean no harm. And I really would like to collaborate with you guys. Maybe you could check with him?”
Minho scrunched his nose. “Him… you mean Hyunjin? Why are you talking about him as if he’s the only person in the band? Because he’s the lead singer? We make the songs together, and Changbin’s usually the one who comes up with the ideas, and who writes most of the lyrics. I think he sings almost as much as Hyunjin does. So if you want to collaborate with us, then the best would be to not annoy him, or anyone else in the band.”
“Ah. I see.” The boba pearl eyes got dull, and for once his voice calmed. He sat in silence for a while, tugging at a few loose threads at a hole on the knee of his jeans. Then he looked up again. “I don’t think this Changbin guy likes me.”
Minho scoffed, but had to smile. “I guess not. Too bad, huh?”
I don’t like you either, neither one of us do, Minho could’ve added, but didn’t—there was something so naive and childish over this person, and he felt that enough was enough for now. “What’s your name,” he asked.
“Han Jisung.” Answering, the pout came back to his lips.
“Right. I’m Lee Minho. Being a drummer might not be that cool in your eyes, but I can sing, too, and I write songs sometimes.” He didn’t know why he had to say that, as if he wanted to impress the little brat… A shade of red crept up his neck and continued over his ears, but probably, luckily, his counterpart was to busy with himself to notice.
Jisung looked up at him. “You do? That’s so cool, I’d like to hear you sing… By the way, can I call you hyung?”
Minho nodded. “Sure.”
“Hyung,” he immediately continued, “I don’t know a single soul who makes music, and I have no one to speak to, about it… Maybe this is too forward, but I have a lot of songs that I’ve become stuck at, that I’d like someone to listen to and give feedback… would you consider doing that?”
That definitely was too forward for Minho. He felt awkward around people that he did not know, wishing to ease slowly into new acquaintances, without too many expectations. He moved his body a little in the chair. “Maybe… I’m not sure.”
“Ah.” Jisung’s eyes lost their sheen again. He was silent for a while, then added in a quieter voice. “Maybe, I can add you on KakaoTalk, and we could see?”
When Minho came back to the flat he shared with Changbin and Hyunjin, it was a little past three in the afternoon. Hyunjin was in his room, working on a miniature project, and Changbin was in his, playing games. Minho should get ready for work. He had the evening shift in the convenience store. Hopefully, Jeongin would work today, then it wouldn’t get too boring… Walking around the apartment, the rooms felt empty, even though they were three people living there. A stroke of helplessness came over him… but there wasn’t much he could do about how things had turned out, so he just had to leave it be.
Enthusiasm - Changbin
The match ended and Changbin went out into the living room. Minho was there, gathering his things. “Hyung, are you leaving for work?”
“Mm, soon… Guess who I met at that new café today?”
“No… not Seungmin, right?”
Minho’s lips curved slightly. “Not Seungmin, I haven’t seen him in months. No, it was that obnoxious guy from yesterday.”
“Ooh, that redhead.” Changbin’s eyes blazed. “What did he say?”
Minho’s lips cracked up into a smile. “He still wanted to collaborate.”
“And that, he can forget,” Changbin snickered.
“Sure.” The tone of Minho’s voice was light as he continued. “He also wanted to hang out with me.”
“Oh really? I thought he had his eyes set on Hyunjin.”
“Maybe he does… you never know, he might be looking for ways to get closer to him.”
“And that, he can forget,” Changbin laughed, but Minho had a weird look on his face. “Or?”
“Most probably.” Minho’s eyes blinked a few times as he said it. “He’s annoying, that’s for sure.”
When Minho had left, Changbin went back into his room. He sat down by the computer. He could start a new game. But that’s not what he should do. He should open the textbook about metallurgical engineering and study for the test next week. On the desk next to the computer was a pile of books, but he didn’t have the energy to open any of them. He looked at his phone. It was empty of messages. Sometimes it happened out of habit, that he opened the app to write Chan a message. Before he started typing it struck him. I can’t do that anymore.
Their flat was quiet. He enjoyed living with Minho and Hyunjin, life was easy with them, but he missed the liveliness of the old dorm, where they’d all stayed close to one another. He missed Seungmin’s pranks, he missed Jeongin’s snarky remarks, he even missed Felix’s gaze on his skin. But most of all, he missed Chan. Making music wasn’t as fun as it used to be. Double Knot existed to prove to Comflex that they were better, nothing else.
While holding his phone, it signalled. It was his father—he seemed to have a sixth sense telling him that Changbin wasn’t fulfilling his part of the deal.
“Changbin-ah, how’s it going?”
“Good.”
“Studying? Big test coming up next week.”’
“Yeah. Studying.”
“Could I hear a little more enthusiasm, please.”
It should be easy to brush those words off, not reacting to the provocation… but that was not how Changbin’s brain worked. He immediately snapped. “Why? Isn’t it enough for me to do the things any longer? I have to show enthusiasm as well?”
This was how their conversations usually ended up, in a half-aggressive battle of words. His parents had let him keep making music, as long as he also studied. He’d chosen materials science because of the family business. Since he didn’t want to go to business school, he’d decided to focus on the actual content of the business: Surface materials. It was the most boring thing he’d ever done, and sometimes he wondered if business school would actually have been better… but he couldn’t say that to his father.
His dad seemed to let go. “As long as you do it,” he said, his voice steady.
“I will, and I am doing it,” Changbin said, then forced himself to add, “thanks for checking on me.”
They hung up.
As long as you do it… truth was, he wasn’t doing it, and he didn’t know how he’d be able to force himself this time. He shrugged. Why couldn’t he get himself together? Looking at the screen, his eyes got drawn by the lively characters. He clicked to start a new game. Just a few matches. Then he’d open that book for sure.
Talk about music - Jisung
Jisung walked from the café back to his tiny apartment, a few blocks away. The sky was turning dark from rainclouds, and they represented the state of his mind well. Why did this have to happen all the time? He was trying so hard to get to know more people, but they just shut the door in his face. What did he do wrong? Why did people never like him?
As he came into his flat, he took his shoes off and threw them on the heap of mixed footwear by the door. He was exhausted. The gig yesterday, where he’d had too much to drink, together with today’s unexpected hangout, where he’d had to fire himself into conversation, had drained him completely.
Now his phone rang. It was his dad. He picked it up while heading for the bed. It also served as a sofa, since there wasn’t room for both. He laid down.
“Jisung-ah, how did the show go? I’m so bummed I couldn’t be there.”
“It went well.” His voice should’ve had a delighted tone here, but somehow, it came out dim.
“Did you talk to anyone… like, what did people think? Did you get any new followers?”
So many questions. Jisung hadn’t even checked social media yet. “Yeah, I talked with some people who liked it. And also, I spoke to the guys from the main act, Double Knot.”
“Ah, yeah, good to connect with them. They’re up and coming, aren’t they?”
“Mm… they’re great. Lots of people were there just to see them.”
His father’s voice felt distant. “Ahh, but that will change soon. It won’t be long until people come for you.”
“I guess.”
“Great work, Jisung-ah. I’ll find you a new show as soon as possible.”
They spoke for a while more, then hung up. It was good to have his dad as a manager, because he had way better social skills than Jisung himself, and more energy to contact people. Without him, he wouldn’t have gotten this gig, or any of the others he’d played. But right now, he couldn’t feel happy. He looked around the flat. Next to the bed was a table, crammed with boxes from take-out food, soda cans, paper cups, manga books, receipts, and various toys and trinkets. On the floor was a layer of dirty clothes mixed with a few clean ones, paper bags and cardboard boxes from online shopping, and just, heaps of junk… He had no idea how such a small place could be that hard to keep tidy. Maybe he should just go to sleep, then he wouldn’t have to watch this mess any longer.
*
Several hours later, Jisung woke up. He grabbed his phone to check if he’d gotten any messages. Not a single one. Of course, that drummer guy would not write to him just because he craved company, and especially, he wouldn’t do it so soon. Jisung sighed and started scrolling. He’d gotten three new followers after the show. Then, a flyer came up in the stream of images and videos. It was for a punk show, far away in the outskirts of the city. He checked the line-up. It didn’t contain any bands he knew of… but instead of lying here, feeling sorry for himself, he could at least check the venue, and if he had a beer or two, he might even be able to talk to some of the band members. His dad would be pleased if he did. He rose up to go take a shower and get ready.
Get up on the horse again, he thought. Don’t give up.
He rode the subway and then walked for fifteen minutes. He wore a printed band t-shirt and grey denim pants with metal clasps, straps dangling around his legs. His boots were large and clunky, and hard to walk in for longer periods of time, but he really wanted to wear them tonight, so he had to endure. As he arrived to the place, it was packed with people, and he headed straight to the bar. As he’d gotten his beer, he stood by himself at a table, watching people around him, as they were laughing and drinking in groups. I’ll never be like that.
Then, someone came with careful steps, holding four beer glasses with two hands, pressing them tightly together. “Wow, can I borrow this for a bit,” his deep voice said. “I can’t carry them any further.”
He put them down on the table, beer spilling on the sides. Jisung looked up and saw the face of an angel. Framed by long, blonde hair, put up in a loose pony-tail with strands falling out of it, the guy’s face was sprinkled with freckles, and his nose was a little button in the midst of them. The dark eyes were rimmed with thick lashes, and his lips were full and glistening from pink lipgloss.
“God, you’re pretty,” Jisung blurted. “Please, go ahead.”
The guy smiled. “Thanks. So are you. Jeez, lucky I found a table. Just gonna wait here ’til I see my friends.”
A light blush coloured Jisung’s cheek and his heart rushed. If he could get to kiss someone like that, someone so pretty, only once… what would that be like? He chased the thought away. He was here to make a future for himself, not hooking up. In his twenty years, he’d only kissed people for fun when he was drunk. His stomach coiled, once again telling him that if he’d do it, it would be with a man. He hadn’t really decided yet how to handle that insight, he just knew it to be true. And now, a cute guy was flirting with him. Or, was he the one doing the flirting?
Drinking greedily from his beer, he downed almost one third of it. “What’s your name,” he asked as he put it down.
“I’m Felix. And you?” Felix selected one of the glasses to take a gulp out of.
“I’m Jisung. I’m twenty. Turning twenty-one in September.”
“Oooh,” Felix exclaimed. “I do too! Which date?”
“My birthday is on the fourteenth.”
“Really?” Felix’ eyes went wide. “Mine’s on the fifteenth.”
Jisung laughed. “Then, you can call me hyung.”
“I won’t,” Felix said with a sly smile. “Oh, there are my friends now… We have to go prepare, we’re playing later.”
“You’re in a band?”
“Yeah, I’m a singer.”
Jisung should have guessed that, with that voice. Felix continued. “With Comflex. We play post-hardcore. You gonna stay and watch?”
“Of course I will. Good luck.” Jisung raised his glass, as Felix clutched all four glasses and went slowly toward a small group of people who were chatting intensely. Were they the members of Comflex? One of them had long hair, silvery with a tone of purple, and looked buff in baggy jeans and a tank top with torn edges. His arm muscles were so defined Jisung had to lick his lips. Another one was tall and had short, dark brown hair, a fierce look on his face. Wearing blue jeans and a denim jacket, the t-shirt underneath had a sign that meant that he was against drinking and doing drugs. Wow, Jisung thought, they’re probably opinionated. The third person in the group had curly brown hair, and was picturesque with narrow eyes and a beautiful, wide smile. He was dressed in torn clothes in shades of brown, from sand to terracotta.
I’ll never be like them, Jisung thought. Then he drank the rest of his beer in one go, and headed directly to the bar for a new one.
*
“Ahh, you were so good, so awesome” Jisung said, unstably throwing himself over Felix, right as he came off stage. The room was overly crowded and people bumped into them from every direction.
“Yeah?” Felix lips went wide. “You liked it?”
“I adored it. Your voice… I don’t even know how anyone could growl like that, and then look the way you do, that’s amazing… and then, the contrast with that other guy, who sang so well…”
“Seungmin,” Felix said. “He’s great.”
“Mmm… and Felix, you’re so pretty…” Jisung clung to him.
Felix blushed, slightly averting Jisung’s arms around his body. “Did you have too much to drink, hyung?”
“You said you wouldn’t… call me that.” Jisung’s voice was blurry.
Felix chuckled. “You won’t remember it tomorrow, anyway.” He looked around. “Are you here with someone? Do you have anyone who can, like… take you home?”
“I don’t. I don’t want to go home.”
Felix clicked his tongue. “All right, then come with me.”
He put his arm around Jisung’s back and brought him with him to a door next to the bar. They staggered down some stairs, and in the basement, Felix opened a door to a small room. In there was the group of people he’d seen before, along with four or five others. They were sitting in two red fake leather sofas, gathering around a black wooden table full of drinks.
The guy Felix had called Seungmin gave out a snort. “What did you find, Yongbokkie? A pillow to cuddle tonight?”
Felix made a face. “Ha ha. This is Jisung. A friend. He drank too much and I said he could hang with us to sober up.”
“Ahh, that’s so nice of you… and it’s got nothing at all to do with that face of his?”
“Shut up, and hand me a cola.” Felix’ voice suggested he was used to some bashing. He brought Jisung with him to the sofa, sitting both of them down. As Seungmin handed Felix the opened soda bottle, he gave it to Jisung. “Drink this.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Seungmin continued, “I think it’s good if you widen your views.”
Felix looked up at him. “You run your mouth like that, and you’re not even drunk?” His voice wasn’t angry, he mainly sounded tired.
“Aw, come on,” Seungmin said, “I’m joking. I want you to be happy, that’s all.”
Jisung sipped cola out of the bottle. He wasn’t really following, but he had a sense they were talking about something important, although in a yapping manner.
“Yeah, but can I help how I feel?” Felix voice sounded more serious now. “Do you think I find it funny to fancy someone who doesn’t like me back?”
The silver haired guy looked back and forth between them. “Come on, you two. You’re best friends, so stop bickering.”
So, Felix was in love with someone… Jisung could understand that much. He sighed. Then, he’d let it go. He wasn’t planning on being with someone who wasn’t into him… and, he wasn’t even intending to flirt with anyone in the first place, he just felt so lonely… The voices blurred around him as he watched them talking. The guy with curly hair was a drummer just like Minho, who he’d met today at the café, and that curly-hair was a beauty when he played, but Minho had been even fiercer. Sure, he’d mainly been watching Hyunjin at that point, but now, when he thought of it, Minho was… No, he had to stop this. What was wrong with his brain? He wanted someone to talk to, someone to hang out with… what did looks even matter? He took out his phone and started typing.
Hyung. I’d lik e to see u. Can you com to my pace and we can talk abuot music?
Dumpster dive - Minho
It had turned out as Minho’d hoped, he was working with Jeongin today. They’d both had this part-time work for a long time, and it was always the most fun when they did it together. They sat at the cash registers next to each other, and during the first hour of the shift, it was slow, so they had the chance to chat.
“How’s Channie-hyung,” Minho asked. “Seeing someone?”
Jeongin scoffed. “That would be something new… he doesn’t have a moment to himself, let alone dating.”
“Is he still doing deliveries?”
“Yeah, he bikes around the city day and night. Food deliveries in the day, and then newspapers at night. Then he writes songs for us and handles all our social media, and if there’s any room left… then he studies.”
“Busy body Bang Chan seems to be the same.”
“Yeah, nothing new… how’s Binnie?”
“So-so, I must say. He’s expected to be studying, but I’m not seeing him doing that much. He mainly sits in his room playing games. Then he works on songs and fights with his family on the phone.”
“Uh huh… and Hyunjin?”
“He, on the other hand, does study… he’s super into building those really small scale models that are part of his education.”
“Oh, good… By the way, I’ll end my shift earlier today,” Jeongin said, “I found someone to replace me from seven.”
“Ah, what are you doing?”
“We’re playing with Comflex tonight, at a club really far away.”
“Oh… I wish I could’ve come watch you.”
“Yeah... maybe next time. I hope.”
“I do too.”
*
When Jeongin left, time stretched out, but at the same time, there were more people, so Minho was kept busy. At the end of his shift, he took his backpack and went out to the backyard. After unlocking the padlock to the container with trash and discarded food, he went through today’s offerings. He found a few packs of vegetables that seemed edible, some cartons of soy milk, a bottle of sesame sauce, bananas, and, best of all, some sticks of cat food. Putting all of it in his backpack, he felt lucky. It was always a good feeling to rescue the food that would otherwise go to waste.
On the way to the subway, he stopped at the corner where the cats usually hung out, calling for them. Two small ones, one black and white, and one red, came to greet him—or rather, the food—and he fed them, their little tongues licking all the yummies from the sticks.
“Nom nom, good, huh,” he said, his voice mild. “But now I’m out, sorry, babies. See you next time.”
He walked briskly to the subway station. Well on the train, he received a message. Oh. His eyes got wide. It was from the redhead.
Hyung. I’d lik e to see u. Can you com to my pace and we can talk abuot music?
Minho burst out laughing. Now, Jisung had to be plastered out of his wits to write something like that. For some reason, his chest brightened, and his reluctancy was wiped away by that drunken frankness.
Sure, let’s do it when you’ve sobered up. How about Tuesday?
That was three days from now, and Minho was neither working nor rehearsing that day. He should be studying, of course, but yeah… He waited a little, but no response came. Had Jisung fallen asleep?
As he entered the apartment, his flatmates were still both in their rooms. Minho took the backpack to the kitchen and unpacked his finds. Then a notification popped.
Hyung, yes. Tusday. looking forwa.d
He chuckled to himself. He couldn’t help but write something back.
See you then. Sleep tight!
What was Jisung up to tonight, really? No matter what adventures he was on, Minho hoped that he had someone around him that looked out for him. Even if he was somewhat annoying, Minho still wished him safe.
Thanks for turning me down - Jisung
Every time Jisung rose to consciousness, he forced himself back to sleep. His head was pounding, and even the slightest movement caused a violent attack of sickness, throwing itself at his throat. Keep entirely still, do not move, think about fresh air and cold water, he repeated to himself.
In the afternoon, he finally managed to open his eyes and move his hand to the phone to check for messages. The first ones were from Minho, and he vaguely remembered writing to him. As he read their conversation, his face turned crimson. Had he really sent that… such complete gibberish? Worst of all, Minho had responded, so now, they’d meet on Tuesday… Oh, Lord. He swallowed. Not that he didn’t want to, but…
Then, there was a message from Felix from earlier today.
How are you feeling? I hope you’re all right. Let’s be friends?
Jisung inhaled, holding the phone in both hands, as scattered images from last night came back. He’d been put in a taxi, and he’d tried to kiss Felix, and then, they’d come to his place…
*
The night before
As Jisung stumbled out of the taxi, Felix was outside of the car door, lending an arm to support him.
“We’re at your place now… should I follow you to your flat?”
Jisung mumbled incoherently, and Felix seemed to take it as a sign that he should, indeed, make sure Jisung came all the way to his apartment.
Going up in the elevator, Jisung leaned heavily at Felix’ body, and as they walked out of it, he stopped at his door, pressing the handle, then he looked up at Felix with a perplexed expression.
“Where’s your tag?” Felix’ lips curved. “Should be in your bag, huh?”
Jisung rustled around in the bag, and with Felix’ help, he unlocked the door. Well in the hallway, Jisung sank down on the floor with his back leaning against the wall, tugging at his boots.
“Oh…” Felix’ eyes went wide as he was met with the chaos of Jisung’s apartment.
After finally winning the struggle against his boots, Jisung took Felix’ hand to be able to rise, and as he stood up, his arms closed around Felix’ body, his mouth speaking blearily into his ear. “Stay… please, Felix, you’re so beautiful, I want to kiss you…”
Felix patted him on the back. “Jisung, I can’t. You’re super cute, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to do anything when you’re this drunk... and well, I’m not really looking to hook up.”
“Ahh,” Jisung continued, disappointment colouring his voice. “Who is it… the one that you want?”
Felix snorted, still smiling, and he shook his head while gently stroking Jisung’s back. “Does it matter? I don’t think you know him. And it’s way overdue, it’s more like a… I mean, I know, he and I will never be together. I should just forget about it.”
“Why won’t you, be together… is that man daft?” Jisung’s face was tucked at Felix’s neck, absorbing the heat from his body, the scent of his cologne.
“Mm, good question.” Felix giggled at those up-front questions. “At some point, I really thought we would, we even… eh, never mind. I guess, he only liked me to a certain degree. He’s straight, I suppose.”
“Ahh, fuck… that sucks. Fuck straight people. Felix… I’m not.”
Felix chuckled. “No… I understood that. But seriously, even if we tried doing anything tonight, that wouldn’t work. You’re too drunk.”
“I just want a kiss…”
Putting a hand to the back of Jisung’s head, Felix smiled widely. “Don’t think that I’m not tempted. I still think it’s a bad idea, though.”
“Mmm,” Jisung pouted. “I’m always a bad idea.”
Felix let go of Jisung’s body and grabbed both of his hands, trying to catch his slippery gaze. “Jisung-ah, you were alone tonight, right?”
“Mm.”
“What do you do… do you study? Or work?”
Jisung shook his head. “Neither. I make music.”
“Ah, so that’s it… and, are you from here?”
Jisung replied in short, blurred sentences. “No, I moved here… two months ago. From Incheon.”
“I see.” Jisung’s gaze was held steadily by Felix. “Let’s add each other on KakaoTalk, yeah?” Felix emphasised his speech with movement, shaking Jisung’s arms slightly. “And then, I really think you should get some sleep.”
*
Jisung put his arm over his face to conceal it, as the blush made his cheek tingle. What the fuck was that? Hadn’t he said to himself to let it go, as soon as he heard that Felix was interested in someone else? Was this how he intended to go about, getting to know people… by hitting on them? Luckily, Felix had turned him down—he couldn’t imagine his embarrassment if he’d actually gotten him to stay… Even more luckily, Felix still seemed to want to be his friend. He started typing.
So sorry Felix, I drank way too much. Thanks for turning me down and getting me home. Let’s be friends!
He pressed send before he could regret the words, shame returning to his cheeks from the mere thought of yesterday. When I’m drunk, I have no filter what-so-ever, he reflected. Is that why people don’t like me? In that case, how do I learn to not let things go straight from impulse to coming out of my mouth… or my hands?
Well, sometimes it could have a good effect, too. Minho had gone from saying maybe to saying yes, and he would come to his place. Jisung looked around the apartment, and the mess almost seemed to crawl toward him. Today, he’d probably be too tired, but he had two days to create a path from the door to the desk… he must at least accomplish that much.
Interesting - Minho
Jisung’s flat was not that far from Minho’s own. It took no longer than fifteen minutes to walk, and he did it briskly. The sky was filled with a thick grey fog that was close to transforming into raindrops. Minho’s fake leather jacket kept the moisture out, but his black jeans did not… but if he walked fast, he’d soon be there.
He and Jisung had sent a few messages back and forth to decide on a time, after those drunken messages the other night. Minho didn’t know how to feel about seeing him. Maybe he shouldn’t think about it overmuch, instead just go there… Jisung was at least talkative, so he wouldn’t have to worry about striking conversation.
Come to my place and we can talk about music.
Was Minho really the one Jisung was looking for… what did he have to say? He loved playing the drums and had done it for a long time, starting already in elementary school for the orchestra. And sometimes he sat in his room, striking a few chords on the guitar while his mouth formed melodic phrases, turning into a song. He didn’t do more with those than recording them to his phone. He’d played a few of them to Changbin, who always said he should make the effort to record them properly. Thus far, that hadn’t happened. So, what could he contribute to a conversation about music… more than saying I like it?
*
“Hyung, you’re here.” Jisung opened the door with round eyes and flush cheeks. Even though it was evening, he looked like he’d just woken up. His crimped, ruby red hair was held back by a headband, except for a few strands that were escaping, falling over his face. On his oversized grey melange sweater, a large printed text covered the entire front. The whole of him looked like an exclamation mark.
“How’s it going… have you eaten,” Minho asked, while bending down to take off his shoes. He had a hard time finding a place for them among all of Jisung’s footwear. His eyes got stuck at all the variation. There were sneakers of many colours and models, boots in various styles. He could already sense a preference—Jisung seemed to like high boots and sneakers, and shoes with platform soles. Anything extravagant, maybe? Minho smiled to himself.
“I’m good, hyung,” Jisung said, “I’m not hungry.”
Raising his head, Minho threw a glance inside. The apartment was tiny and messy. Jisung followed his gaze. “I cleaned up as much as I could… but I didn’t have time to get it all done,” he said defensively.
“Oh. I see.” So it had been even messier before?
They stepped inside, and Minho looked around. By the window was a packed desk with a laptop, drum machines, synths and recording equipment, and next to it, a bookshelf with some manga books, but mainly random stuff—things that didn’t really seem to belong there—like plates, cartons, even clothes… Then, there was a door to a bathroom and a small pantry with a minimal table and two chairs, and on the other wall, a row of wardrobes. The single bed placed at an angle wasn’t made, and apart from blankets and a large amount of pillows, it contained plushies, clothes and comic books… and, wasn’t that a ramyeon cup in the corner?
The corners of Minho’s mouth lifted again, and without thinking, he blurted, “you need help cleaning up? I kinda like cleaning at other people’s places.”
Jisung gave him a bothered look. “No… I don’t like cleaning, so let’s not do that.”
Minho giggled. “All right.”
“You want something to drink?”
Now, Minho noticed that Jisung’s hands were twisting as he spoke. “Maybe… what have you got?”
“Mmm… coffee, energy drinks, beer...”
All of those were things that affected the brain’s chemistry in some way, and that mind of Jisung’s probably didn’t need more stimulus… but maybe, Minho shouldn’t say that. “I’ll have a beer.” As long as neither of them got plastered, that would be okay.
Minho followed Jisung to the pantry, where he opened the small fridge. The only things in there were drinks.
Jisung handed him a can, and seemed to relax somewhat, as he opened his own. “Come,” he said. “I want to play some songs for you.”
Minho got a chair from the kitchen and sat down next to Jisung. Jisung leaned forward to the laptop and opened the music software. “We can start with this one.”
He pressed play and an intricate rhythm started. A heavily processed singing voice was alternated with rapping, and mixed with noises that at times made it sound like the song itself broke. And then it stopped.
“So, as you heard…” Jisung said, “it’s not done, and I don’t know how to continue from there.”
“Mmm, I see.” This was what Minho had been afraid of. He couldn’t speak about composition like that. If it had been Changbin or Chan, they would have thrown themselves over this exercise with eagerness, but for him… he didn’t have the vocabulary.
“It’s… very interesting,” he said.
Jisung sharpened his gaze. “Interesting… okay. Yeah, well, I guess it is.”
Is that what’s inside your brain, Minho would’ve wanted to ask, but it felt rude.
“Let’s take another one.” Jisung poked around in folders to find a new specimen. “This one, then.”
As the song started to play, Jisung took a gulp out of his can. This one was much slower, and once again, the singing voice was made almost unrecognisable. When Jisung had sung live, his voice had been cleaner, and Minho liked that better. He almost jumped from his seat when the mellow, jazzy tune suddenly shifted shape into fast-paced drum n’ bass. Minho’s eyes opened wide. Is this person is some kind of musical genius, he asked himself. And in that case, what in the world could he tell him? It was far out of his league. After a while, the song shifted back to the slow tempo, and then it faded out.
“I don’t know,” Jisung said, “but I feel like something is missing in this one… I just don’t know what it is.”
It was really unfortunate that Changbin had decided to loathe this person… since he was much better equipped for giving the kind of advice Jisung was asking for. Minho definitely wasn’t… but he had to say something. “Question. Why are you using all of those effects on the voice? I feel the singing could be, like, more distinct.”
Jisung’s eyes widened. He seemed to be processing the content of the question before answering, looking like he didn’t understand, but still wanted to respond. “I... well, I guess that’s… that’s just how this kind of music is supposed to sound.”
“Is it, though? I didn’t know music was supposed to sound in any specific way… and you don’t seem like someone who cares about conventions.”
Jisung made a face. “That’s not what I meant... I don’t…” He scratched his head under the headband. “So, you think the vocal parts should be done differently… In what way, is it, like, how I sing, or…”
Now his eyes looked dejected, and Minho got a feeling that he’d just done the absolute opposite of what Jisung was asking for, commenting on things he didn’t wish to change. “No, no, I didn’t mean the singing itself, you’re a great singer. I just think it’s a bit of a shame to not get to hear it better.”
“Ahh. I see.” His voice was much quieter than before.
“You wanna play me something else?”
Something was definitely wrong, because Jisung didn’t look at him, instead he was facing the screen, closing the project down. “Ahh, no, I think it mainly was those two.” The tone of his voice was light, but also flat. “Thank you for listening, hyung.”
Sitting on the chair, Minho was holding the beer with two hands, feeling like he’d gripped something and then immediately lost it. He swallowed. Looking at Jisung’s side profile, he was still staring into the screen, now organising things in folders. His eyes had a thin glaze.
Minho lifted the can and took a sip, but the beer was bitter on his tongue. He put the can on the table, trying to catch Jisung’s gaze. “Thank you for letting me hear your songs. I liked them.”
Jisung still didn’t look back. “Mm, cool. Thanks,” he said, his whole body telling him to leave.
A tug of pain went through Minho’s chest, but he didn’t know what else to say. “I guess I’ll get going, then,” was what finally came out of his mouth.
As he walked back to his place, his heart was beating in a strange rhythm. A breezy, cold sensation filled his lungs as he inhaled. He didn’t know where it came from, but it reminded him of something from long ago, far away. I must do better, he thought. Next time, if there is one, I’ll have to be a better hyung.