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In a room full of people, San only saw the back of Yunho’s head, watching the TV in the living room half-heartedly, smiling as he glanced to his side to respond to his friend making a comment on the show. San had a plastic plate of chips and dip in his hand, also half-heartedly eating it. He could feel the emptiness in his stomach, but the taste of dry and salty chips didn’t really satisfy his palate that night. Instead he fed himself the view of that boy he had a crush on since he first joined the Korean Student Group of the university.
Oh how they’ve adapted to the American lifestyle; long gone were the kimbap cuts and hot tofu jjigae. They did have freshly grilled beef, its scent wafting in the air, the boundaries between indoors and outdoors no longer known in the crowded house with a side sliding door to the patio where the grill was. San looked down at his plate, hoping no one caught him staring; not that anyone was paying attention to him anyway. He was painfully average, and he blended in, but it also meant no one thought much of him; they probably didn’t even notice how he hadn’t really touched much of the food, and maybe he should just stuff himself for the rest of night, seeing how he wasn’t making much conversation.
San approached the buffet served on the dining table; a big tray of fried glass noodles, made hours earlier, another big tray filled with Korean fried chicken (local stuff; nothing as good as the ones back home), fruits as dessert, and other miscellaneous food in containers that guests had brought, almost spilling off the narrow table. A hand pointed at a second tray of meat, and San looked up to see an older boy from the student group; Seonghwa, a tall man with a handsome smile, eyes round and charming.
“They’re gonna refill this tray with a fresh batch soon, might as well wait a bit.”
San smiled at the considerate statement. Seonghwa was part of the student group committee; friendly, and managed wholesome events. He was one of the students that came to pick San up from the airport when he first arrived in the States, so San had fond memories of him. They didn’t keep in contact past freshman orientation, but they met at gatherings like this.
“How’s your night going?” Seonghwa asked.
“Good, good, fine,” San nodded, trying his best to not let out a more honest sigh.
“They’ll pull out the soju bottles soon, don’t get bored too soon,” Seonghwa winked.
“I’m not of age yet,” San replied with a somber smile. Seonghwa let out an “ah”, nodding in understanding.
“But you’re over 18.”
“But I’m not 21 yet.”
Seonghwa chuckles. “No one’s gonna ask in this house, trust me.”
A man in a bucket hat with orange hair approached the two, saving San from the futile conversation.
“I brought meat!”
He poured a heap into the half empty tray, and Seonghwa reached out like a hungry tiger. San waited for his turn and walked away with a small hill on his own plate. He headed back to the sofa where he sat earlier, but to his disappointment, it had been occupied, by no one else other than The Jeong Yunho. He shuffled his feet around as he looked for another seat in the room before looking back at Yunho. San’s eyes widened slightly, because he was looking back at San, and his neutral expression turned into a smile as their eyes met.
San felt his stomach do backflips, watching as Yunho scooted over to make space on the sofa, and San approached, taking the empty spot. He had to bite his own lips to stop from smiling himself silly, but they didn’t say anything past the small gesture. San naturally blended in, as he usually did, paying attention to the conversation being had in the circle, and making small remarks to prove his interest. He couldn’t stop himself from getting distracted by his shoulder touching Yunho’s upper arm (he was so tall, San felt like a kid next to him), their knees knocking into each other as San sat restlessly. San lifted his plate slightly at Yunho; a gesture asking if he wanted some, and Yunho nodded, accepting the offered chopsticks from San’s hand. San felt his heart skip when their skins touched, but he kept his face straight. There was nothing to be excited about; Yunho is probably kind and considerate to everyone, and things like this were natural; they were the same age, and it was expected that they’d get along. Nothing special about it.
As the crowd started to scatter, thinning out into different areas in the house, some already leaving for their dorms, a majority making a circle in front of the TV as they played Switch games with half their mind gone to alcohol, San excused himself to the restroom upstairs. Being away from the noise cleared his mind, and he found comfort in the muffled cheering. There, but not really. Quieter. Less exposed to judgement. His steps back to the living room were slow, and he looked around, finding an open door that led to a bedroom. He looked down the hallway; it was empty, and the other rooms were closed shut. He wondered how many couples hid behind these closed doors, and thought it would be hilariously ironic if he entered alone just for a nap. So he stepped in, and looked around for a sign of the room’s owner.
On one corner was a desk, and he inspected the books that were stacked on it; Introduction to Statistics, literature novels, a hefty textbook about Macroeconomics. San flipped the cover and saw the name signed on one corner; Wooyoung Jung. He knew who it was; a kid his age, but ran in wider circles. He recalled hearing the boy laughing hysterically in the Switch circle as he left the group for his silence. He didn’t seem like the type of person who would mind if someone borrowed his room, especially during huge gatherings like this, so San decided to stay. He sat on the twin sized bed; the mattress itself was hard, but made soft by the layers of bedding. He had four pillows, all covered in a matching set with the bedding, all neatly made up. San lied down, lulled by the inviting yellow luminance coming from a nearby bedlight, looking up at an empty ceiling. He thought about Yunho’s soft smile, and his lips curved naturally, heart beating just from the memory. He closed his eyes, trying to push the image away from his mind so he wouldn’t completely lose his sanity to the small gesture. The night had been long, and he was more than ready to leave, but his roommate (and ride) was part of the Switch circle, and he doubted he would be sober enough to drive back tonight, so San readied himself for a sleepover.
“Choi San?”
San’s eyelids separated at the familiar voice. He turned his head and saw Yunho at the doorway, tall and face backlit by the hallway fluorescent. He had a slightly confused expression on his face, and San sat up, flustered. He left the door open in case Wooyoung wanted to come in, informing that no, there were no couples having sex here, just a tired introvert taking a nap. But now with Yunho standing there he realized how awkward his position had been; posed like a corpse in its coffin, still and trying to relax, pretending he couldn’t hear the legs of the bed next door creaking. He chuckled nervously, trying to hide his embarrassment, and Yunho joined, smiling widely back at San.
“Sorry, was I disturbing you?”
“No no, it’s fine.” San patted the spot next to him on the bed without thinking much. Maybe the company would help rid of the fatigue. The company of Jeong Yunho, that is.
Yunho walked in, approaching the bed in wide steps. San tried his best to not admire his long legs too much.
“What are you doing here alone?”
“Just resting. Gatherings aren’t the best for introverts, haha.”
Oh god, that was so awkward, he thought to himself.
“That’s fine,” Yunho smiled. San could smell the alcohol in his breath, and San wanted to salute Yunho for keeping his composure despite it. “The games got boring when that one too-drunk guy insisted that they could beat the unbeatable guy.”
“Was that unbeatable guy you?” San smirked. “Heard you’re quite the gamer.”
“I stepped back when he came up to play. I can smell trouble. Glad to know my reputation goes far outside our little Valorant group though.”
“You play Valorant?”
“Yeap. Do you?”
“Not really. I’m interested, though.”
“I can teach you.”
“Don’t get mad at me when I get better than you.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Yunho teased, and San smiled back, looking over at the taller. His lips looked so close, and San had it in his mind that if he touched them the kind and considerate creature that Yunho is wouldn’t even mind, but he held back. Their eyes met and Yunho smiled nervously.
“What?” he asked softly.
“N-nothing,” San stuttered.
“You were staring.”
San felt his heart beat in his chest, so he looked away. “I-it’s nothing.”
When Yunho didn’t say anything, San looked back up, and Yunho was biting his lower lip nervously, his ears beet red. It was the first time San had seen someone’s ear turn a bright red that quickly.
“Are you okay?” San asked carefully, fists clenching as he said it.
“Choi San,” Yunho whispered. “Can I kiss you?”
San remembered the smile Yunho threw at him earlier, and all the feelings he had before quadrupled; not only his stomach, now his entire digestive system were twisting and turning, his intestines in knots, his heartbeat loud in his ears, the switches in his brain flipping up and down, all the lights flickering into chaos. He blinked several times.
“You want to kiss me?”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Yunho whispered, still chewing on his dry lower lip.
San blew out air through narrow lips. “I… I want to.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” The words that they spoke were no longer audible to anyone other than themselves.
“O-okay.” It was the first time San heard confident Jeong Yunho stutter. He held his breath as the taller came closer, his eyes half lidded as he quickly latched their lips together, softness meeting his own carefully, but needily.
Need. San felt needed.
His heart could jump out of his chest when he reminded himself that he was kissing Yunho, and he was a good kisser, too. He had to hold back when Yunho kept pressing closer, and he could feel the softness again and again, tending to him with care. San wondered if Yunho could taste the meat he ate earlier; his thoughts ran from why-didn’t-I-eat-some-mints to oh-my-gosh-I’m-not-moving. So San separated his lips, tongue touching Yunho’s lips softly, gesturing that he wanted to go further, and with that permission, Yunho pushed forward, and San felt his brain whirr to an incoherent instability, fireflies lighting up and flying all around his head.
He can still taste the alcohol on Yunho’s tongue two weeks later.
They didn’t go very far; as if a snapping rubber band, Yunho clicked into sobriety, and apologized to San whose back was on the bed, totally entranced by Yunho’s control. San shook his head “it’s okay”, but Yunho told him that they shouldn’t go any further, since he was drunk, and San understood. He walked downstairs with the taller, seeing that the majority of the crowd had found a place to nap on the floor, and San’s roommate was downing a mug of instant coffee before slapping San’s back with a thud.
“Let’s go back, roomie.” San thought if he died that night, at least he had made out with The Jeong Yunho, so he went with it. He didn’t die, fortunately. Or, as San would think at times, unfortunately.
Because Yunho didn’t text him after, and he didn’t know what to think of the situation. Should San text first? Was it just a drunken mistake? Did Yunho not actually want to kiss him? Was it a spur of the moment thing? And he knew from the few conversations they had through text that Yunho wasn’t very good at it, so he didn’t want to try to talk about it virtually. A call would be too awkward, and San didn’t want to risk his roommate walking in on him having what would be a dreadful conversation. So San took his chance when the student group announced another gathering; this time at the campus badminton centre, where they would have a mini tournament, but also open courts for whoever wanted to play for fun.
San didn’t enjoy sports very much, but he liked the idea of the meals they would have after each of these student group activities. He had scrolled through the list of people in the group chat for the event, and saw that Yunho was in it. He felt his chest flutter, remembering the smile, and the kiss. Was he competing? Jeong Yunho who’s good at everything; was he good at badminton too? He can imagine.
Would it be weird if Yunho saw him there?
Would he act weird when he saw Yunho?
He hoped he wouldn’t.
San tapped on Yunho’s profile and opened their personal chatroom. The last time he had texted Yunho was to tell him he had made payment for the Christmas gathering’s food cost. Yunho had only given a big thumbs up sticker, about eight hours later. The worst texter San had ever met. So it would be a good idea, if San wanted to tell Yunho something, it would be now, so he would see it before the event.
Did San wanted to say something?
Hey , he typed.
Remember the other night at Wooyoung’s place? I mean you weren’t that drunk so I think you would probably remember, but in case you didn’t
He backspaced the last sentence.
If you remember, and if it meant something, then it’d be really awesome if
Backspaced the last six words.
...then please meet me near the locker rooms at the back of the centre after the event.
San only tapped the send button the morning before the day of the event. He sighed lightly as he did it, and distracted himself with his usual Friday activities; morning class, afternoon shift at the north dining hall, evening spent watching anime, downing a bag of chips that he’d probably regret tomorrow. He couldn’t bring himself to check if Yunho had read the text, but he didn’t get a reply, and as antsy as it left San, he kept it that way - ignorance is bliss.
The next day, he found himself arriving at 9:02am; only a couple of minutes past the official event start time. He knew that these events were casual, so he tried to not look too enthusiastic. To San's dismay, morning buses were light on weekends, and he was more punctual than he had intended. He walked into the badminton centre nervously; the hall was long, about five courts arranged in a row, only a few feet separating each court from each other, bleachers running up about ten flights up on each of the long sides of the hall. On one end were doors to guest restrooms, and the other leading to the back of the centre, where athletes could clean up and get ready for their matches in the locker rooms. That was also where San had intended to meet Yunho after; he expected some of the student group members to stay behind and wash up there, so it wasn’t exactly private, but quiet enough for them to at least talk a little.
There were already a few of the committee members huddled around one corner of the hall, and San approached them with a smile. He made light conversation, asking if these were all the participating members.
“Some said they were coming a bit later, but most of the competing members are here, just getting ready at the back,” one of the girls mentioned. The match was mixed, and teams for the doubles matches had already informed the committee of their partnership earlier on. The committee set up the matches beforehand, and were about to announce the match rounds as soon as the competing members were all there. San sat on one of the nearby bleachers where familiar faces were starting to collect, waiting for the athletes to come out. He held his breath as the stream of heads appeared from the back door, and San felt his heart stop for a second when he saw that Yunho was one of the twenty people, clad in gym shorts, tennis shoes and a loose white campus-swag t-shirt, complimenting his wide shoulders.
He didn’t acknowledge the taller; the competing members all sat on the same set of bleachers as him, but Yunho sat on the frontmost row, and San near the back, where he could see Yunho’s mass of hair, soft and fluffy. He tried not to stare and listened to the committee member’s announcement instead.
Seeing the ratio of casual players to competing members, the committee decided to divide the courts as four for the competition and one for the other players to play doubles on, so they can smoothly finish up the competition and leave the rest of the booking hours for casual play. San spent most of the time watching from the bleachers, only playing when a familiar face asked if he wanted to join. He wasn’t very good at the game, but he knew how to have fun, so he gave himself a pat on the back for being a good sport. Time flew, and before he realized, Yunho entered his court on the opposite side.
“Did you win?” one of the older student group members asked him.
“Naah, lost the second match,” Yunho smiled widely. He smiles even when he loses, San noted.
“That’s fine, you can still play. Wanna take over?”
Yunho nodded politely, taking the older’s place across San. San tried his best to look anywhere but at Yunho. This is bad , San thought as he felt his heart beat slightly faster from nerves. He focused in on the shuttlecock but his legs felt weaker than before, and his steps were hesitant, not wanting to look like an idiot in front of Competing Member Jeong Yunho. He lost a lot of points, his racket not reaching far enough to catch the shuttles, making it an easy win for Yunho’s side, and San decided to retreat, going back to his seat on the bleachers. He still hadn’t made eye contact with Yunho. Maybe it was better if he didn’t.
The event officially ends at 12, but the competition had already resolved and they decided that lunch was better time spent than playing lousy matches with each other, so the committee closed the event early, and the members helped clear out the hall, most of the competing members heading back to the locker rooms to clean up, including Yunho. San went to the guest restroom as the crowd thinned out, waiting a little before heading to the back area. He waited at the end of the empty hallway, watching as one or two people left the locker rooms, none of which were Jeong Yunho. He looked at his feet for what felt like hours, but knew wasn’t actually; time just runs a little slower when you’re waiting for something, and San was waiting for something that might never come.
What was he expecting sending that text anyway? He was too brave for his own good, thinking things would play out like in the dramas, and he’d finally find his happily ever after. He felt the afternoon sun coming in, wringing out sweat from his skin. It must’ve been past one by then, but San waited. He checked his messages. None from Yunho, but he saw that he had read the text.
San slid down to a crouch, resting his chin on his knees, watching the phone screen. He read it last night. He didn’t reply, and he didn’t come.
Idiot.
San felt a void in his chest. He blew air slowly through his mouth, trying to calm himself down. He tried, and it didn’t work. It’s okay. Except, he didn’t feel okay.
He skipped out on the meal, despite knowing exactly where the location shared in the group chat was, and headed straight back home. He didn’t really feel like seeing Yunho after that. Did Yunho think San was an idiot for tripping over his own feet because he was playing with him? Did he think San was being unnecessarily weird about their encounter that night? Maybe he kissed people for fun all the time, and San was a fool for taking it too seriously. The self-deprecating thoughts continued on till dinnertime, and San finally got a reply from Yunho. Frankly, he didn’t really want to hear from Yunho right now, but he was curious to see what he would say.
Hey, didn’t see you at lunch
Yea headed straight home
Didn’t really feel like it
Are you okay?
San snorted. Was he really one to ask?
I’m fine
Sorry
San’s lips tugged at the sides. He waited a bit, but they were both idle for a few moments.
It’s okay
Still interested in playing Valorant?
Maybe not now, kinda busy with school
But I’ll hit you up when I feel like it
Okay, cool
Hope everything’s chill between us
San felt exposed. He wasn’t chill. He was far from chill. But he won’t let The Jeong Yunho know that.
Yea, totally
And Yunho left him on read, one more time. The void in San’s chest grew.
Jeong Yunho. You’ll never know, will you? How much I actually like you, actually want you? But I tried, and I failed, and maybe that’s all I needed to know; that you’re not interested in me, and will never be, and that’s okay. I’ll get over it.
Right?