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“I just don’t think we’re going to work out,” Suho says, casually scratching one cheek. They’re outside his apartment and he’s severely underdressed for the February weather, clad in nothing but an oversized hoodie and baggy basketball shorts. A gust of wind blows past them both and he dramatically shivers. He wants to wrap things up quickly and go back inside to his warm bed. Episode 5 of “Twenty-five Twenty-one” is waiting for him, along with Beomseok’s Super Secret Snack Stash he had only just begun to dig through before Naeun called him out. “It’s nothing personal. We weren’t that serious anyways, yeah?”
Naeun seems unaffected by the weather. Instead, she stares reproachfully up at Suho, manicured hands clenched into tight fists. Suho always thought her nails were cute. Naeun is cute. They had met during winter break a few months prior, through a mutual friend and then through flirty Instagram DMs. It had been fun dating Naeun. A mutually casual relationship. Or at least that’s what Suho had thought it was.
“You’re breaking up with me?” Naeun unclenches one fist and points at herself in disbelief. “Me?”
“Uh, yes.” Suho hops on his feet. His frozen toes are peeking out of his Adidas slides. He’s cold. This honestly could’ve been a phone call. Naeun scoffs. “Sorry.”
“Sorry,” Naeun repeats slowly. She gives him a slow once-over before her sharp eyes lands back at his grimaced face. She scoffs again. “I should have expected this, honestly. Your reputation precedes you, Suho.”
“What, being a campus heartthrob?” Suho jokes.
“A heartbreaker,” Naeun says, her voice getting louder. “You dump anyone and everyone like it’s nothing. And now you’re dumping me. Outside your apartment without even letting me in. And you’re dressed like a bum.”
Naeun’s practically yelling now and Suho looks around to make sure no one else’s in the area, especially that one grandma on the third floor who has it out for him and his roommate. He sticks his arms out placatingly and Naeun swats him away. She takes a step forward and jabs a perfectly manicured nail into Suho’s chest.
“Ahn Suho,” she says slowly, deliberately. “With the power of my entire ancestry, I curse you. I curse you so deeply that I hope you stay loveless for the rest of your life. I pray for a day in the future when you love someone, but that love is never reciprocated. And you suffer the consequences of breaking my heart by having your own heart broken to the point where it will never be fully repaired again. You’ll regret this. I swear it.”
With that, she gives him one more glare before spinning around and stomping off. Suho blinks. He opens his mouth to say something back to her before another gust of wind blows through the holes of his shorts. Forgetting everything else at the moment, he shivers and immediately turns around to head back inside. He doesn’t think about Naeun’s words for a while.
-
“You know what he said to me?” Wooyoung yells into the microphone, gesturing wildly at Yeongi (who equally screams back “What!”). “He was like you’re so rude and I was like boy! Does it look like I could care? I couldn’t even care less!”
“How does he make every song sound like it’s being performed at Show Me The Money?” Beomseok murmurs. Suho can’t stop laughing.
He’s at a karaoke building near campus, a night out with friends. It’s Round Two of their night, a break between the dinner they just had at a nearby barbecue restaurant and the club they’re going to hit up in a couple hours. Suho’s own voice is slightly hoarse from most recently belting out the entirety of a Woodz song by himself.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Suho says, getting up and shuffling out. He closes the door behind him and relishes in the fresher air and muted silence. A regular here, Suho gives a salute to one of the employees that pass by before taking a turn towards the single-stall bathroom. It’s already occupied so Suho leans against the wall to wait, pulling his phone out of his jean pocket and aimlessly clicking through Instagram. He has ten more DMs since the last time he checked the app, and he pushes his tongue against his cheek as he scrolls through them.
The bathroom opens and Suho naturally looks up as he pushes himself off the wall. Backlit by the vibrant glow of the hallway lights and accompanied by the distant crooning of a man singing along to some ballad in a nearby room, an angel appears in front of him.
Suho’s stunned, honestly. He’s never met a more beautiful man in his life. Big eyes, soft lips. Floppy black hair, smooth skin. He’s shorter, and Suho watches as the boy's eyes slowly track up to meet his. Long lashes, too. Wow.
“Can you move?”
Suho startles. The boy in front of him is staring at him strangely now, one hand still clenched against the doorknob to keep the door open.
“Oh! Oh, sorry.” Suho steps back and takes the opportunity to do another subtle once-over on the boy. A slightly oversized university sweatshirt, the colors and design a very familiar look. He’s never seen this boy before on campus though. Suho feels like his brain is running on overdrive. And now it's turning to mush.
“...do you not need to use the bathroom?”
“I totally do,” Suho blurts. He fumbles to grab the door, and the boy shuffles away. “Thanks.”
The boy doesn’t respond, instead walking away before Suho can even begin to think of extending the conversation. His hand flops and the door shuts closed behind him. He stands in the bathroom for a few moments before smacking himself in the cheeks.
“Wait, what am I doing?” Suho flings open the door and runs back out, speed-walking in the direction the boy had gone. He peeks through each passing karaoke room in the hallway, hoping to find him in one of them, but all he sees are people who are definitely Not The Boy singing or dancing. Or crying. Even making out. Suho groans and shoves his hand through his hair.
“Sieun, c’mon,” someone calls from near the exit door. Suho turns around and in the distance, he sees another boy with round glasses beckoning over a familiar back. “Hurry up!”
Suho’s about to open his mouth but he stops himself, the reality of the situation sinking in. Would he just look crazy? What is he even doing right now? He feels like he’s just blacked out for the past five minutes.
During his moment of hesitation, the exit door closes shut behind the boy as he walks away with his friends. Suho finds himself standing in the middle of the hallway, alone and confused and heart beating like a drum.
“Sieun,” Suho says to himself softly, testing out the unfamiliar name. “Sieun.”
-
Much, much later that night, when he’s lazily sprawled out on a booth at the club, hands nursing a half-finished beer and ears barely listening to whatever his friends are saying, Suho looks up at the ceiling, closes his eyes, and faintly wonders if he’ll ever see the boy again.
-
He does.
It’s a week or so later, and Suho’s making his way across campus, backpack slung across one shoulder and arms carrying a heavy stack of papers. A favor for Yeongi, after she had begged for five minutes over the phone for Suho to print last minute papers needed for her next class and after Suho scored a free future meal on her dime. As he continues his way towards Yeongi’s academic building, he looks left and right, calling out friendly greetings to other students. When he faces forward again, he almost bumps into a nearly unassuming body walking towards him. The student’s head is down, clearly focused on whatever textbook he’s reading, and his earphones are in.
“Hey, sorry,” Suho says. “Almost crashed into you there.”
The student looks up and takes out one earphone. The same piercing eyes that’s kind of been haunting Suho ever since that day, if he were to be honest. His stomach drops. He takes a deep breath. This is his chance, his redemption from their first encounter.
“Hi-”
“I’m not interested,” Sieun says politely, looking up at Suho with barely any recognition.
Suho chokes. “Huh?”
Sieun pointedly stares at the flyers in Suho’s arms and looks back up.
“I’m not interested,” Sieun repeats, already putting his earphone back in. “Also, I don’t think you can do this on a school campus.”
“Wait.” Suho flushes in realization. “I’m not trying to get you to join a cult-”
“I have a class to attend,” Sieun says, easily maneuvering around Suho’s frozen body. Suho slowly turns around, in disbelief, watching yet again Sieun’s retreating back before he could even get a proper sentence in.
It happens again, and again, and again. In the school cafeteria, in the library, in the hallways between lecture rooms. Suddenly, he sees Sieun everywhere. Sieun, with his cute, soft face and softer smile. Sometimes, he’s alone with his familiar earphones and a book in hand. Most times, he’s with a group of three other boys, usually shoved between two of them, their arms draped over his smaller frame. And every time, Suho gets shut down in some way or another.
Once, Suho sees Sieun sitting near the campus basketball court and braves himself before nonchalantly walking towards him. He looks good on this particular day, baseball hat thrown on in a totally-casual-but-really-not-casual way and his latest clothing purchases fitting him perfectly. He looks cool and calm and collected.
“Hi,” Suho says. Even his voice isn’t shaky. Something feels promising about today’s encounter.
“Hi.” Sieun blinks up. “It’s you again.”
Suho pretends like there’s no hidden implications behind Sieun’s flat statement and powers through.
“I’m Suho,” he says.
“Oh,” Sieun says. He blinks again. “Hello, I’m Sieun.”
“I know,” Suho blurts out before mentally slapping himself in the head. Oh my god. “I mean-”
“Young man, are you interested in joining the basketball team by any chance?” A deep voice whispers into Suho’s ear. A large hand smacks his back. “You have a great build for it. Where have you been all my life?”
“Baku, don’t be weird,” Sieun says, sighing and getting up from the bench. Just like that, the moment’s over and Suho internally deflates.
After his fifth failed encounter, Suho starts to genuinely mope. He feels unlike himself. He’s Ahn Suho, dating extraordinaire and the most popular student of his year (according to the Yonsei University online student forum)! Rejection, what’s that?
After his tenth failed encounter, Suho is lying on the living room floor, fetal position with his knees tucked inside his arms, when he hears the front door click open. He lifts his head enough to make eye contact with Beomseok, who immediately takes note of the melancholy Bruno Mars song playing throughout their apartment.
“Bad day?”
Suho dejectedly lowers his head. “Sieun rejected me again.”
Beomseok hums in sympathy and Suho lets himself wallow in a few more minutes of self-inflicted agony before his roommate speaks up again.
“Maybe it’s a sign,” he suggests kindly. Suho groans. “Like, maybe you’re not meant to be. Maybe he’s not even gay! Maybe he has a partner already.”
Suho covers both his ears with his hands.
“La la la,” he says. Beomseok sighs loudly.
“Dude. I just think you should take a step back. Maybe it, whatever it is, will happen naturally. If you just let it happen. Like, naturally. Love can’t be forced. Love is…love, you know?”
“You’re terrible at giving advice,” Suho informs him, dropping his hands until they flop uselessly on the floor. But there’s some truth under Beomseok’s words. Maybe he’s trying too hard. And the last thing he would ever want to do is to make Sieun uncomfortable. He sighs.
“Make me dinner,” Suho says, slowly getting up from the floor. He pauses his emo music. “I’m famished from being lovesick.”
“I just ate with Wooyoung,” Beomseok says awkwardly.
“I matter to no one,” Suho murmurs to himself. He turns the music back on.
-
The days, most of which Suho spends pining over Sieun from a distance and trying to pass his classes, turn into weeks. Summer arrives, hot and humid. On one particular Saturday, Suho finds himself in an intense battle of shoving and manhandling as he and Yeongi fight to be nearest the electric fan. Wooyoung sits relaxed on the floor, while Beomseok putters around their kitchen for snacks.
“Yeongi, just move!” Suho groans, planting his entire hand against her sticky face to shove her away. She screams. “It’s too hot for this.”
“I was here first!” Yeongi yanks his hair back in retaliation. “Just take your shirt off if you’re that sweaty, like Wooyoung.” She glances down at said man, who’s too busy scrolling through his phone, and scrunches her nose. “Really gross, by the way.”
“We get it, you’re a lesbian, now move-”
“Isn’t this that guy? Your guy? Sieun?”
Suho freezes and Yeongi takes advantage of the moment to fully knock him off the couch. He lands on the floor clumsily. Suho slowly looks up to stare at the phone Wooyoung’s shoving in his face. It’s the Hinge app. “What-”
If Suho’s life were a Korean drama, like one of those ridiculously dramatic weekend cable dramas his grandma likes to watch reruns of, he vaguely thinks right now would be the exact moment the screen freezes on his dumbfounded face at the ending of a cliffhanger episode. A melancholy soundtrack would be playing in the background as different flashes of his horrified face appear behind a quick succession of the drama's main sponsors.
Because against the terrible UX design of the Hinge app, Sieun’s profile stares right back at him.
“Sieun-” Suho stutters in disbelief. He shakily reaches out to yank the phone out of Wooyoung’s hands.
It really is him. Suho silently covers his mouth with one hand as he painstakingly scrolls down, processing every detail of every photo on his profile. It’s pictures Suho has never even seen before, since Sieun doesn’t even have social media (Suho has checked). A picture of a slightly disheveled Sieun in a cramped kitchen, wearing a loose graphic t-shirt and holding a potato next to his face. Another picture of Sieun shyly smiling at the camera, hair styled and dressed in a dark denim jacket. He’s holding an alien plushy for whatever reason. Another picture at the beach, this one more candid than the others, of Sieun’s side profile as he laughs out loud at someone out of frame. A blurry selfie, taken in the backseat of a car, of Sieun pouting-
Suho’s fingers move faster than his brain. He immediately blocks Sieun on the app, throws the phone back at Wooyoung (who protests loudly), whips out his own phone, and promptly opens the same app he hasn’t opened once since he first made a fool of himself in front of Sieun all those months ago.
“What are you doing?” Yeongi asks, peering from behind his tense shoulders. She takes one peek at Suho’s phone screen and shakes her head. “Dude.”
Suho ignores her (and Wooyoung’s peals of laughter) and clumsily swipes through his own mountain of received likes, a bubble of hope building up inside his stomach. If Sieun liked Wooyoung (for whatever reason…), then maybe Sieun also saw Suho’s profile and then-
“Oh my god,” Suho says. “He liked me.”
Sieun’s same profile shines on Suho’s phone screen. He had liked the last photo of Suho’s profile, a picture Wooyoung had taken of him on their weekend trip to Japan last year. He read through my entire profile, Suho thinks deliriously, he liked a photo of me.
“What’s wrong with him?” Beomseok asks, making his way back into the living room.
“It’s his boy,” Yeongi says, wiggling her eyebrows.
Suho ignores his friends as he shakily opens his new chat with Sieun. Start the conversation with Sieun, says the app. What does Suho even say? Where does he even begin? How can he be as cool as possible while simultaneously conveying the layers of his deeply harbored crush? Where does he find the balance? Suho carefully reads through each of Sieun's prompt answers. After ten minutes of deliberation, he clears his throat and types slowly, carefully. His friends crowd behind his back to watch silently.
Suho
hey this is suho. we’ve bumped into each other on campus a couple times and i always thought you’re really cute. do you want to grab lunch? i know a good udon spot near school. :)
He sends it before he can regret it and closes his app. Breathes out a sigh of relief and anticipation. His friends whoop and smack his back, celebrating like he just popped the question, and Suho can only hope it goes up from here.
-
Sieun never responds.
Suho honestly considers it the final, finishing blow to his self esteem and love life. He can never recover from this. After day six of waiting for a reply to never come, Suho grieves the end of a crush that never even got to properly start. He goes to bed Friday night, foregoing a night out partying with his friends and instead choosing to rot in his apartment. In the darkness, just as his eyes are about to fall shut, a memory he hasn’t thought about in months flickers in the back of his mind. Him and Naeun, breaking up in the freezing cold. Naeun cursing him to never find love again. A promise of regret, Naeun had told him with vengeance.
Suho jolts up in bed. Once he starts thinking about it, he can’t stop. Sick to his stomach, he rolls over to his phone and checks the time. It’s only one in the morning and, suddenly feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed and depressed, he craves a beer. So with great effort, he crawls out of bed and slips into the first pair of clothes he can find on the floor. He slowly makes his way out of his apartment and down the familiar alleyway to the nearest GS25. He shoves his snapback flat down his head as he grabs a beer and a couple of consolation snacks.
“That’ll be ten thousand won,” the cashier says. A pause. “Suho?”
Okay, Suho thinks, my life is a joke.
Sieun stands behind the counter in front of him, looking pretty and beautiful and sweet as always, even under the terrible convenience store lighting. A couple of textbooks are open next to the register. Suho sees him blink one, two, three times before he carefully takes in Suho’s appearance.
Suho has always shown the best sides of himself to Sieun. Always dressed perfectly, decked out in whatever latest clothing items he got from Musinsa, hair always carefully styled, bags always hanging loosely over his shoulders. Oversized t-shirts, baggy jeans, black-rimmed glasses even though he has perfect vision. Cologne, accessories, his good shoes. Everything.
Suho, at this very moment, is none of that. He hasn’t washed his hair in two days, maybe even three. To combat the sticky June heat, he’s wearing nothing but a t-shirt that he grew out of five years ago, baggy basketball shorts, and the same Adidas slides he had worn the day Naeun had pretty much cursed his entire life. He wishes his hat would just swallow him whole.
“Oh my god,” Suho says faintly. His body moves on its own and taps his phone to pay. His face burns.
Sieun purses his lips, still scanning Suho down. After a moment of consideration, he pushes Suho’s things back towards him.
“I’m off the clock in ten minutes,” Sieun says softly. He points outside the store window at the empty table. “Can you wait for me until then?”
-
By the time Sieun sits down across from Suho in the cramped plastic seats, Suho has already chugged down half his beer.
“Are you okay?”
“...you know who I am?”
Sieun frowns, in that cute half-grimace way that’s just so him. He’s cute everywhere, Suho thinks helplessly. He puts his head in his hands.
“You’re Suho,” Sieun says slowly. “Don’t we know each other? We’ve talked a couple times.”
Suho’s head snaps back up.
“You remember those?”
Now, Sieun looks more confused than concerned.
“Well, yes. Of course.” Sieun pauses and awkwardly tugs one ear. It’s pink. “Although, um, I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“I’ve been busy,” Suho lies, coughing. He takes another sip of his beer. They stare at each other. Sieun’s wearing a shirt that looks vaguely familiar, and it takes Suho a couple more seconds to remember where he’s seen it. In a picture with a potato. One of Sieun’s Hinge photos. A surge of overwhelming insecurity hits Suho like a heat wave. “Didn’t you see me kinda recently though?”
Sieun continues to fidget with his ear. “Where? On campus?”
“No, like, uh, on the app.”
“App?”
“Y’know,” Suho says, aiming for casual. “Hinge.” He tries for a lighthearted joke. “We matched but you never replied to me, maybe the app just glitched. Haha.”
In the span of five seconds, Suho watches Sieun’s face go from confusion to sudden clarity. Sieun’s entire face is bright pink now, down to his cute ears. He smacks his hands against the plastic table and it rattles.
“You, you,” Sieun splutters, fumbling for his phone from his jacket. “You. We. Matched on Hinge?”
“Yeah. You liked me first so I sent you a message.”
“Oh my god.” Sieun’s finger flies across his phone screen and he stares down in horror. Suho can see the app open now on his phone. He sees his message being silently read by Sieun and internally cringes at the heavy silence as Sieun clearly processes whatever’s…happening here.
Suho awkwardly scratches his cheek. “It’s okay. I mean, honestly I was really excited. I probably made it obvious, but I thought, I mean think, you’re cute. Thought I finally had a shot-”
“Suho, I’m really sorry,” Sieun interrupts. His face is flaming red now. “My friends made my profile weeks ago. I’ve never even opened the app myself until just now.”
Suho wants to die.
“Ohhh,” Suho chokes out. “Oh!”
“Baku and Gotak and Juntae,” Sieun rattles out, uncharacteristically flustered and rambling. Something about it calms Suho’s nerves down a little. “They thought it’d be hilarious to make a Hinge profile for me. I had no idea what they even did for my profile. Or whoever they sent likes to. They just did whatever before giving my phone back. But I never opened it. Until, uh, now.”
Awkward silence hangs in the air. Suho wants to die less now, but the idea of Baku liking Suho’s profile and Suho living the past week thinking it was Sieun this whole time is haunting.
“Did you see my profile just now?” Suho asks instead, taking a deep breath.
Sieun nods. Tugs his other ear. Suho can’t help but laugh softly at the absurdity of it all.
“Would you have liked it? If you had seen it first yourself?”
Sieun glances up at Suho and licks his lips nervously. He nods again and Suho relaxes. Feels that bubble of hope, again, but this time it feels stronger. More promising.
“God,” Suho says out loud, abruptly standing up and lifting his fisted hands in the air. A nervous giggle escapes out of Sieun’s mouth and Suho latches onto the sweetness of the sound. He collapses back onto the flimsy table, face dramatically pressed against the cool surface. He glances up and, from this angle, he sees Sieun staring down at him. Big eyes full of subtle expectation, full lips quirked into a small, nervous smile, soft cheeks still ruddy pink.
As they stare at each other, he feels the cooling summer breeze against his sweaty skin and he hears the soft melody of whatever pop song is playing in the convenience store behind them. Sieun glows under the fluorescent lights and Suho has never felt more endeared in his entire life.
“So,” Suho starts. “Can I still take you out for lunch?”
Sieun smiles, and Suho thinks that this is really it. Beomseok really was right. Love is love, you know?
“It’s a date.”