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bakurainmystic · 8 days

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Crack!

Metal separates from metal, and a faint fizzing comes from inside the can. A satisfying little sound. Zen quickly puts the can to his lips and takes a big swig. It makes his nose a little itchy, but the feeling is pleasant.

Or maybe it’s just habitual. He’s not sure.

He leans onto the counter as he puts the can on top of it. His head is heavy. His mind is a mess. He takes a little glance again at the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. Should he go for another one?

He decides to wait a little more.

Maybe another beer will finally make him sleepy.

Zen pinches the bridge of his nose, then drags his hand down his face with a sigh.

Then takes a wistful look at the kitchen.

It’s a little messy: dishes in the sink that Yoosung's been too busy to wash, although it’s his turn; some snacks scattered on the countertop; a mug of water left on the table. It’s become a welcome sight. Yoosung’s presence has made this kitchen feel less beige and sterile. But right now, in the dim light of the small lamp under the cabinets, Zen feels his loneliness and messiness here that much more jarringly.

He can’t imagine life without Yoosung anymore.

He’s not sure how he feels about the life with him, either.

He has to give Yoosung credit, though, he’s been nothing but delicate. After the botched first kiss and the exchange of confessions (Zen tries not to think about what he has said, because if he does, he immediately feels his face heat up with embarrassment) — after that, Yoosung has been such a sweet soul.

When hasn’t he been.

Zen sighs again, runs his hand across his face one more time. Takes another swig of beer.

It’s still doing nothing for him.

Fuck.

Shouldn’t have developed such a tolerance.

Damn this.

His thoughts are wandering. All of his life — or most of it, anyway — he has been alone in this world. Alone against his parents; alone against all the people wanting to touch him, pet him, squish him, like a little decorative animal; alone against the gangs, the men older and stronger than him who looked at him and saw something they could use; alone against the brutal competition in the musical theatre industry; alone in this beige disaster of a flat, full of nothing but echo and beer cans. The few times he has thought he has had something going for him, he has just remained heartbroken and that much more alone.

His brother. He licks his teeth.

Then mouthes a different name. Yes, it still tastes bitter on his tongue.

He takes a swig of beer to wash down the feeling.

Rika, too. He grins to himself.

They all left. Some took things with them. His trust in people, his hopes for the best. Everything that was soft and vulnerable within him.

His virginity. He smiles bitterly. Such a dumb story, but who'd listen. The name is bitter in his mouth. The void is nagging in his chest. He drinks again.

What makes this time any different?

And why the fuck does it have to be a guy again, he thinks. I promised myself it wouldn’t happen. I wasn’t even a good friend to him.

Or was he?

He thinks back to the hours he has spent googling for recipes to get him to eat. To holding his hand, listening to all the ways he has thought of going out. To changing his bedsheets, to taking out his trash.

To hugging him so tightly and kissing him on the forehead.

To washing his hair. To helping him bleach.

To writing to none else than Jumin Han for the contacts of the clinic.

Why was he doing all that?

Why has he suggested he move in here? Just to split the rent?

He drinks again.

The fuck does it matter.

Now he’s here, they're both here, and among them there’s a guy who doesn’t want to let Zen slip back into his habitual loneliness.

He hears soft footsteps and turns automatically in their direction.

‘Hey…’

Yoosung stops in the doorway, sends him a little, pale smile. It’s warm. Zen raises his beer can to him. Cheers.

‘Hey,’ he replies, then takes a swig.

He has already noticed that little look, running over the cigarettes, the lighter, the beer can. Over Zen’s figure, slouched against the counter. Reading the clues. In the months living together, it has become some sort of a ritual. If one of them can’t sleep, he probably needs a hug.

He prays silently to all the powers he doesn’t believe in that Yoosung doesn’t go for it.

‘Not sleepy?’ he hears the soft voice ask. Yoosung passes by him and settles at the kitchen table, sideways on the chair, pulling his one knee up. They’re face to face now.

At a comfortable distance.

Zen thanks Yoosung’s delicacy as he puts down the can.

‘Nah,’ he replies. ‘Which sucks, really, I have the final rehearsal tomorrow. The dress rehearsal. Before the premiere.’

Yoosung smiles a little wider.

‘Yeah, the premiere. I’ll be there.’

‘Sure you aren’t gonna be bringing a plus one?’

Yoosung glances down, his expression bleakening.

‘Oh, no, I don’t think. One of the guys has a birthday party over at the dorm, and everyone is going.’

‘They didn’t invite you?’

‘They did but…’ he grimaces a little. ‘I’m not really friends with the guy. He’s… kinda terrible.’

Zen nods understandingly.

‘How come you aren’t sleeping? Been gaming?’

Yoosung lowers his chin to his raised knee. His face is now dejected.

‘Still not up for it?’

He shakes his head.

‘I’m kinda nervous to go back. After the last… several times.’

Zen purses up his lips, inclines his head to the side.

‘Assholes. So what’s keeping you up then?’

Yoosung licks his lips.

‘Well, I was getting together with those three girls recently, to study together, you remember, I told you? They were always staying a bit late in the library, and I kind of… invited myself to join, and they didn’t mind. Well, we’ve been doing that for some time, and they’ve been really cool. They asked at first, you know, about the eye… I thought they’d be weird about it, but they were really sweet. And I thought we should hang out, well, outside of uni. And I invited them for boba for this weekend, and they were down, and we just figured out the details and stayed a little too late chatting…’

His smile is warm as he is studying the tiles behind Zen’s back. What a relief, Zen thinks. He’s hanging out with girls now. He’ll be smooching one of them in no time, and we will just gather together right here, talk about it, and agree that we both got kinda carried away and that we’d just forget about all that’s happened. Wow, problem solved.

He doesn’t feel relieved at all.

His heart becomes even heavier.

‘You’re not inviting them to the premiere?’

Yoosung chuckles, shakes his head.

‘Aw, no. They said musicals are cringe.’

‘They have no taste.’

‘Tell me about it. They’ve simply just never heard of Zen, my favourite actor.’

As he looks up at Zen, straightening, his smile is so sunny. Zen tries to give one back, but it feels feeble and insincere.

‘Go get dressed,’ he says, gesturing vaguely to Yoosung’s thin tee. ‘It’s kinda cold here.’

‘I’m fine.’

Zen sighs.

‘You want me to give you mine, or what?’

He’s wearing a warm cardigan, and it’s so cozy, but Yoosung only has to ask for it, and he can have it.

‘I’m fine, really.’

‘Suit yourself.’

Yoosung reaches out for the mug of water on the table, glances into it skeptically.

‘How long has this been here?’

‘All day, probably,’ Zen shrugs.

He watches as Yoosung goes off to the sink, pours the dusty water out, and fills himself a new cup.

The nagging in his chest is becoming more unbearable by the moment.

I could use another cig, he thinks.

‘Are your new friends pretty?’

‘Huh?’

‘Are they pretty? The girls you’re going for boba with.’

Yoosung looks away, as if he hasn’t thought about it.

‘I guess? Yeah, I mean, yeah! One of them, Eunju, actually has a pretty distinctive style. She has this haircut, like… like this,’ he tries to make an approximation out of his messy hair.

‘A mullet?’

‘Yeah, I think it’s called. Messy, with highlights. Green. Yeah, and she always has all sorts of buttons and pins, she let me see some of her collection, and she’s even into LOLOL! Well, I… kind of told her I don’t play anymore.’

‘Aw,’ Zen drops half-heartedly. ‘Shame.’

‘Yeah… But, I mean… yeah, I guess they’re very pretty. Probably what caught my eye was that they seemed… nice. Like nice people.’

Zen holds a straight face as he takes another swig of beer. Being an actor has a lot of perks. One of them being, you always know perfectly well how to hide what you really feel.

‘Mind if I make myself tea?’ Yoosung asks from the direction of the stove. ‘Or do you want to drink in peace?’

‘Nah, by all means,’ Zen makes a vague gesture with the beer can. ‘Help yourself. I’m fine.’

He watches Yoosung pour the electric kettle and turn it on, then rummage through tea bags, smelling them, picking a flavour. At last, satisfied, he drops a bag into a huge mug. It is made to look like a fat smiling panda.

Yoosung glances at him around his shoulder.

‘Sorry, I didn’t ask… you want some?’

Zen raises the beer can. It’s feeling very light now. Yoosung nods.

For a little while, they wait in silence. Yoosung’s on his phone. Then, the water boils, and Yoosung pours his tea. He returns to the table, puts his mug and some chocolate bars on it, and settles on the chair again, pulling his other knee up now.

‘You have no concern whatsoever for your health,’ Zen drops.

‘Said the pot to the kettle.’

Zen doesn’t have any objections to that. He steals a glance as Yoosung opens a candy and sinks his teeth in, staring at his phone. His presence doesn’t feel intrusive. He doesn’t look like he’s waiting for anything. His thumb taps away at the screen.

Now that he’s not looking, and has turned his blind side to him, Zen takes liberty to stare. He studies the mess of bleached wavy hair, the moles on the roundish cheek, the oversized tee hanging from his small frame. Yoosung has a serious look on his face, but it’s all because he knits his eyebrows and squints to see better. He’s so adorable like this, though. Zen recalls the feeling of Yoosung on his lips: his forehead, his hair. His tensed up mouth.

You’re so down bad, Zen Ryu, he thinks.

And then thinks, fuck.

‘I’m feeling like shit,’ he confesses into thin air.

Yoosung puts down his phone. He isn’t turning to Zen, but he reaches out for his mug and brings it to his lips.

He’s listening.

It’s such a habitual little thing between them by now. Someone needs to talk. And the other lends an ear. And sometimes also a shoulder.

Zen lets out a broken sigh.

‘Everything’s just so weird today. I’m feeling weird. Fucked.’

‘Looks like not the kind that a beer could fix?’

Zen shakes his head.

‘Not the kind. And not the kind you can sleep off, or smoke off. Listen, I was thinking. How come you even came to care for me?’

Yoosung turns to face him, settling on the chair sideways again. He studies Zen’s face for a moment.

‘Well, you've always been beautiful, so here’s that,’ he smiles. Then pauses.

Normally, a compliment like this would make Zen feel better. Now it just rings hollow to him.

Yoosung sighs.

‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘It all just… happened little by little, I guess. We got acquainted, I wanted to get to know you. You felt… nice, you know. Like a nice person.’

Zen smiles bitterly under his breath. Isn’t that what your girls feel like, Yoosungie.

‘You’re a great friend to me,’ Yoosung says. ‘Someone I can lean on. Someone who cares. It was… a nice surprise, honestly, to find out. You’re not, like… taking pleasure in ego-tripping at my expense.’

‘Who’d a thunk.’

‘Helping people is a good thing,’ Yoosung continues, unfazed. ‘An act of love. That’s what I think, anyway. But a lot of people don’t do it out of love. Don’t do it for the other. They just do it to feel better about themselves. And it’s just humiliating and patronizing.’

Humiliating and patronizing.

Emasculating.

Zen looks at him carefully.

‘Do you feel that way often?’

Yoosung nods, purses his lips.

‘Kind of. Not with you, though. Not these days. Not when you stayed with me back then.’

Zen huffs a breath before downing the leftover beer.

‘It was no fun without you. I just wanted my friend back, thankyouverymuch.’

Yoosung tilts his head to the side, looking away. Zen can’t help thinking that he sees right through him, all of his half-truths and half-assed lies.

‘Okay, maybe I just hated to see you… like that,’ he relents. ‘Hated the thought of you. You know. Gone.’

‘You were so patient with me.’

‘That’s what it took. Look, Yoosungie. I’m just. Gonna say it like I think it. You don’t need to return any favours. I did it because I wanted to. And you shouldn’t feel like you owe me something for it.’

‘Like what?’

Zen sighs.

‘I mean. Who am I? To you. When you look at me, who do you see?’

Yoosung looks at him. The stare of his different eyes is soft, intent.

‘I see Zen,’ he says. ‘My best friend. The friend I love.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why do you… love?’

Yoosung sighs.

‘I don’t think it really works like that.’

‘But something made you look at me that way. Was it because I helped you? Because I was there, bless me, taking care of you, feeding you, I don’t know what else?’

Yoosung looks away.

‘Look. It’s true. It felt… good. Safe. Leaning on you. But now that I’m… doing better, I think I’m enjoying this way more, you know. Now that I can talk to you more as an equal. You’re… really cool. That’s mostly all there is to it. Yeah, I’m grateful, of course… but it’s mostly that you’re just cool. Through all of that stuff, I’ve really learned how cool you are.’

Zen pulls a little face, looks away.

‘Okay, fine, let’s hear it. What do you think is so cool about me? Mentioning this face is cheating, you know.’

‘You’re determined,’ Yoosung says simply. ‘This is probably the best word I can pick. You’re determined in pursuing your dream. In pulling your friend out of a black pit. In carving out a better life for yourself. Otherwise you would have stayed a gangster and a delinquent, wouldn’t you?’

Zen bites onto his tongue.

‘I guess.’

‘You’re determined and you never give up or despair. I often despair. But you… you always see the light. And you’re so fiery about it, too. It's beautiful. It’s contagious.’

‘Is it?’

Yoosung shrugs, looking down.

‘I may not always look it…’

‘Oh well.’

‘Yeah…’

They’re silent for a little while.

‘I love the energy you’re radiating,’ Yoosung says, at last, quietly. ‘It’s so deliberate, you know? You know what you stand for, and you... emanate it.’

‘What do I emanate?’

‘Inner strength. Determination. Passion. But also kindness. A very sincere and no-nonsense sort of kindness.’

Zen winces.

‘Yeah, figures.’

Why does he have to sound so honest, so sincere? Why does he have to be such a great guy, why does he have to make Zen’s heart melt like butter?

And why has Zen expected anything else from him?

Yoosung looks down.

‘You probably hear that a lot. But, well. That’s just what I’m thinking. Do you think it’s cheesy?’

Zen crumples the empty beer can in his hand at last. He opens the cabinet under the sink to throw it away, then takes a new one out of the fridge. He cracks it open and immediately takes a big swig. Yoosung watches him quietly, then sips his tea.

‘I wish you’d just admit that you see me as some kinda mama ducky,’ Zen says at last. ‘Or as some kind of guy you feel like you owe something to.’

‘I don’t think that.’

Zen huffs, gulps down beer in huge mouthfuls, almost painful to swallow.

‘You should be out there wooing that girl with a mullet,’ he mutters under his breath. Then toks the can on the counter and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice is shaky and disobedient.

Yoosung huffs out as he rises. He crosses the kitchen, and then Zen suddenly feels him so close, and his arms wrap softly around Zen’s waist, and then he nestles comfortably against his side.

‘I’d much rather stay right here,’ he says.

His hands are now locked together, resting on Zen’s hip. The cloud of hair tickles his nose. Zen chokes up.

I wanted to get sleepy, he thinks. Not sentimental. What’s this bullshit.

And then he drapes his arm softly around Yoosung’s shoulders, nudging him even closer. He closes his eyes and breathes him in: a faint smell of the tee that needs a wash, of fresh hair, of scented tea and chocolate. His lips find Yoosung’s temple almost past his will. He presses a kiss into tender skin.

He can’t believe he has almost managed to convince himself he doesn’t want this.

‘I should be in bed,’ he mutters into Yoosung’s hair.

Another little kiss comes naturally: just lips brushing past skin, they’re so close anyway.

‘Wanna go now?’

Zen takes another deep breath.

‘Yeah, just a little bit more.’

‘Just tell me when you wanna go.’

Zen’s fingers brush Yoosung’s arm absently.

‘You sure you’re not cold?’

‘Nah.’

‘Climb under the cardigan, if you wanna.’

‘It’s comfy here.’

Maybe it’s for the better, Zen thinks. Maybe he’s just telling himself he worries for him. Maybe it’s the wolf speaking. Maybe he should just let go, and not risk tainting this beautiful person with whatever he himself is tainted with, or cutting him on the spiky constructions built around whatever is still left vulnerable in him.

‘Just a few more minutes,’ he mutters.

‘As long as you want,’ Yoosung says quietly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.'

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