Four-Letter Word (1/2)
Four-Letter Word
Kai/Kyungsoo (main), Chansoo, Krisoo, hints of others
15,809 words, PG-13, AU
Copy editor Kyungsoo peeps on the handsome guy who lives across from his flat, while the artist next door, Jongin, nurtures a crush on him.
a/n: Written for sncj_bigbang. Loosely based on the K-Drama Flower Boy Next Door. In my head, I call it, "What FBND Would Have Been Like If Everyone Had Gotten Their Act Together." Originally posted here. See gorgeous art by halcyondusk for this fic here.
It begins on a sunny spring day when 22-year-old Jongin wakes up in the morning with a nasty hangover and a stray thought in his head asking him what would make life worth living again. There's a bottle of soju calling his name in the living room, and it takes all of his self-control not to give in to the urge to empty it.
He forces himself to leave his apartment complex and wanders into a nearby park. There is a bench and on that bench sits a boy who looks around his age with the roundest eyes Jongin has ever seen. The rest of his face is slightly obscured by a thick wool scarf wrapped around his neck. He shifts a little, and Jongin gets a glimpse of his mouth. In spite of himself, his gaze is drawn to the boy's smile. It's small and hesitant but so sincere that he has the urge to actually smile back.
He resists it but decides sitting down next to him on the bench isn't a creepy thing to do. "Nice day, isn't it," he says in a low voice, careful to direct his statement at the air in case the boy doesn't want to be disturbed. He's gratified when the boy doesn't scoot away.
"Yes." The boy's voice is quiet but determined.
Jongin looks at him out of the corner of his eye, hoping his face doesn't betray his surprise. He doesn't actually expect an answer although it's nice to have someone listening to him again after months of being holed up in his flat with no one to accompany him except his thoughts and his misery. The boy is shivering in his brown coat, but he doesn't look especially cold. He doesn't say anything else, so Jongin assumes that's the end of their conversation. The silence stretches, but oddly enough, it doesn't feel uncomfortable.
For an hour, they just sit next to each other, soaking in the silence and the first of the sun's rays. It's the best Jongin has felt in months. He feels himself leaning back and relaxing against the wooden bench. The constant ache in his chest is reduced to a dull throb. There's something about this moment that makes him feel like the Jongin of before, the Jongin from a year ago, fresh from graduating college and eager to change the world.
On impulse, he turns to the boy and says, "Thank you."
"You're welcome, I suppose." The words are accompanied by a dubious expression on the boy's face. He makes the most interesting expressions with his eyes.
This time, Jongin lets himself smile. "I'm Kim Jongin. What's your name?"
"A famous man once said, 'Don't talk to strangers.'" The boy's voice is perfectly even, but Jongin suspects there's a smile hidden in there somewhere.
Jongin's own smile stretches into a grin. "Yes, well, I need to know your name so that I can dedicate my next webcomic-well, first webcomic-to you. I haven't felt this relaxed in months."
The look on the boy's face makes Jongin think this isn't the strangest pick-up line he's heard, far from it, not that Jongin is trying to pick him up.
"Do Kyungsoo."
It sounds so ordinary, Jongin thinks, and yet. He looks at the boy again and proceeds to mentally catalogue everything about him from the way his gloved fingers are clutching at his coat in a vise grip to the way his eyes change from dark brown to hazel when he tilts his head slightly to gaze at the sky. There's a story here somewhere, Jongin thinks, noting the contrast between Kyungsoo's nervous fingers and the relaxed way his feet are planted firmly on the ground.
When he gets home that evening, he takes out his old graphics tablet for the first time in six months and opens his desktop computer to begin working. The seed has been planted in his head: twelve boys separated into two groups, he thinks, each with a unique superpower. He'll call it MAMA. He starts sketching the first boy, pale and thin and wide-eyed, a thick brown coat wrapped around his body. He is crouching on the ground, the tips of his slender fingers touching barely concealed cracks on the soil. D.O., the cracks spell out.
"Do Kyungsoo," Jongin says aloud, the words echoing in the silence of his flat.
His name was Lu Han.
Kyungsoo still dreams about him sometimes, the way strands of his straight brown hair would fall into his eyes, the way his smile was gentle but could really, unexpectedly turn very wicked. In his dreams, sometimes Lu Han glowed as if all the light in the room were reflected on his skin, so much so that it hurt just to look at him. Kyungsoo kept looking anyway. Lu Han was kind of devastatingly beautiful that it was all Kyungsoo could do not to reach out and touch him. Dangerous, his mind screamed. Want, his body replied. Then Lu Han would smile and Kyungsoo would feel his pulse beating in his mouth.
Once, Kyungsoo did touch him. He woke up with wetness trailing down his cheeks, and it was only when he was sitting down to breakfast that he remembered it was because when he'd tried to touch Lu Han's face, he had only grasped at thin air. Lu Han had looked at him with such pity on his face that Kyungsoo's cheeks burned with humiliation.
I'm sorry, Lu Han had said back then. I'm sorry, Kyungsoo. And all Kyungsoo could think of was, Why? Why can't it be me?
Kyungsoo was 17.
Kyungsoo is 23 now and he's still dreaming. He wakes up clutching at his chest as if he's drowning, Lu Han's image burning against the back of his eyelids. He lies down in the dark for a while, trying to slow down his breathing as his mind struggles to erase the memory of Lu Han's smile. His hand reaches for his bedside drawer on automatic, fingers wrapping around the familiar cool metal of his binoculars. Safe, his mind tells him. You're safe.
The next time Kyungsoo closes his eyes, he falls asleep but doesn't dream.
When Jongin gets out of his flat the next morning, he's blurry-eyed from lack of sleep and work adrenaline. He blames both for almost missing the figure standing outside the flat next door-No. 365-with a familiar pair of eyes, mouth hidden by a thick scarf. "Oh, hello." He bursts out laughing because this is just absurd. "Do Kyungsoo, I didn't know we were next-door neighbors."
Kyungsoo looks at him a little warily, but eventually he says, "I didn't even know I was living next to anyone. It’s not like I get out much.”
There's something almost defensive about Kyungsoo's tone. "Oh, don't get me wrong," Jongin says. "Have you even heard any signs of life from my flat? I didn't know I had a next-door neighbor either." He doesn't add, 'In fact, yesterday was the first time I went out in months. I have really bad nightmares and wash them away with soju. How about you?'
Jongin watches Kyungsoo's posture relax just a bit. "Going out for a walk?" he asks because it's natural to be polite to your next-door neighbors.
"Yes." Kyungsoo is already moving, and Jongin easily catches up with him in front of the elevator. He's tempted to ask more: who, what, where, when, why? Old habits die hard, he thinks three minutes later, as he surreptitiously watches Kyungsoo's slight figure standing next to him in the elevator.
You're not worth anything, Jongin, he hears her voice inside his head, and he flinches, not expecting the memory to hit him in the middle of the day.
"What's wrong?" Kyungsoo asks, voice solid and real.
"Just lack of sleep," Jongin answers, hoping he doesn't sound dismissive. His next-door neighbor is looking at him now with eyes he can't read. "I was working too late last night," he adds.
Kyungsoo nods but doesn't ask anything else. Jongin finds himself closing his eyes in relief.
When the elevator opens, Jongin has collected himself enough to say goodbye to Kyungsoo. His eyes follow Kyungsoo's figure slowly disappearing as he walks away from him and wonders for the first time what the future will bring.
Kyungsoo has a ritual when he wakes up in the morning. He reaches for the binoculars on his bedside drawer, forces himself to get out of bed, and shuffles his way towards his heavily curtained window. The chill of his small, cold flat causes him to tug his brown coat closer to himself, and he shivers slightly as he pulls the curtain to one side. The first rays of the morning sun hit his eyes, bright flashes that make panic bubble inside his chest and contemplate going back to bed. He raises his binoculars with shaking hands and immediately feels himself calming down. The man who lives across from his flat-Kevin, Kyungsoo has named him in his head-is awake.
Kevin's smiles are wide and full of pearly white teeth. Kyungsoo watches carefully as the tall man scratches his little Yorkshire Terrier behind the ears and presses a kiss into his fur. He cuts an impressive figure in a three-piece pinstripe suit, Kyungsoo thinks, but nothing can disguise the look of pure affection on his face as he plays with his dog. Watching him makes Kyungsoo smile. The unconscious tension in his shoulders disappears, and a wave of peacefulness soon follows as he watches Kevin grab his briefcase from the coffee table and say goodbye to his dog.
One day, I'll have the courage to meet you, Kyungsoo thinks, as Kevin returns to the flat to grab a piece of toast from the table.
The twinge in his gut is telling him it's a lie, but he ignores it, and he also ignores the voice inside his head going, You've given up on this a long time ago.
The truth hurts because it's real. In the back of Kyungsoo's head, a tableau is playing: Kevin home from work just the other night, a lithe woman by his side with long, straight jet black hair and a tiny waist. Kyungsoo immediately names her Victoria because there's something commanding, almost regal, about her bearing that matches Kevin's own charismatic presence well. They smile softly at each other, and if Kyungsoo can only get a little closer, can only watch them with just his eyes and no need for binoculars, he knows he will see the look of understanding that passes between them as Kevin slowly threads his fingers through hers.
Kyungsoo lets the curtain fall back against the window. He returns the binoculars to his bedside drawer and shuffles his way to the entrance of his flat. There's a carton of milk outside his front door with a post-it on it, and Kyungsoo lets himself smile as he sees what's on it: a cartoon version of himself with big anime eyes clinging for dear life to the edge of a giant smiley. "So you hate emoticons," the note says in messy hangul. "Well, I don't. ^_^ Good morning, Kyungsoo! Drink your milk, so you'll get taller." A cursive Jongin is signed on the bottom right portion of the post-it.
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at his next-door neighbor's words but dutifully opens the milk carton and pours himself a glass. He tacks the post-it on the corkboard on his wall beside yesterday's post-it ("Well, we can't all be tall, dark, and handsome, but since you're so pale, you might as well drink this to maintain that milky complexion"). He takes his place behind his desk, just a few feet away from his bed. The sound of his laptop booting up is comforting, and as he runs his fingers over his keyboard keys, Kyungsoo can almost feel the rest of the world fading away. You're safe, his mind tells him, almost like an afterthought. It's going to be all right. He takes one last look at the row of post-its on his wall before starting to type.
They say 'regret' is a lonely word and 'unrequited' even lonelier still, he writes, but for this boy, these words are best friends he keeps close to his chest because the alternative is something too heavy to bear.
They say it's better to have loved and lost-Kyungsoo's fingers hover over the keys as he swallows over the lump in his throat-than to have never loved at all. What they don't say is how your heart no longer belongs to you afterward, gone and never to return.
It takes Jongin the better part of the year to pick himself up from his slump, but when he finally makes the decision to be a webcomic artist, he goes all in. And now, after a year of living on ramyun and three hours of sleep a day in his dingy little flat with his annoying little flatmate, he's finally done.
He calls his masterpiece MAMA: a story about twelve boys with superpowers born on opposite sides of the same planet, separated by a twist of fate only to meet again years later when an evil overlord threatens to take over the world. There's action, violence, drama, love, despair-and most of all, hope. Hope, Jongin's mind stutters, is something everyone needs, wants, but avoids actually talking about.
His annoying flatmate (AKA Sehun; AKA his amazing co-artist, but he'll never tell him that) accompanies him to the publisher's office. They're both too tall for their shabby, secondhand suits, but Jongin is so happy about finally, finally accomplishing something that he doesn't care. As soon as they sit down on the uncomfortable office chairs the editor has in front of his desk, Jongin hands him printouts and a flashdrive.
"What do you have for me?" The smile on the editor's face is almost sweet, and even though it's the first time they've met, Jongin's gut is telling him he can trust his judgment.
Jongin puts on his best outside world smile. "Something we hope you'll find as phenomenal as we do." His voice sounds unbearably fake, and he fights back a wince. He and Sehun both unconsciously hunch their shoulders as the editor silently pores over their work.
Jongin feels the familiar burn of anticipation in his gut, and he licks his lips.
Please, he prays to no one in particular (the last time he's believed in anything, things hadn't gone all that well). Please just let me have this one thing.
For the second time in his life, Jongin is waiting for an answer. This time around, he's hoping he gets a yes.
Chanyeol has been a builder of worlds for as long as he can remember. Having been left to his own devices in a huge, empty house as a kid (his parents both went to work for the family corporation; it was for his own good, they said), he had played by himself, surrounded by laughing wood elfs and cheeky mermaids. Occasionally, there was his next-door neighbor, Kris, but in the end, it was still Chanyeol who had to stay behind in a dreary house with only his imagination for company.
In his mind's eye, the world was a giant playground he could shape according to his whims. In his favorite world, he was still Chanyeol and yet not Chanyeol, someone with the power to build bonfires and burn down forests if he chose, someone caught in the middle of deciding whether he wanted to use this knowledge for good or for evil. It was only natural that he chose to make video games as a living. After all, it was the best way to turn his worlds into reality.
It's been fifteen years since his first realization, and he'd like to think he's gotten somewhere with his dreams. After studying in America, he created Exo Planet, currently the number 1 game in Korea. In its dark and gritty world, twelve kids with superpowers get together and become a team of superheroes. Led by Codename Happy Virus, they travel through different dimensions and defeat baddies. It's a simple enough premise-one that has his critics flapping their mouths and shaking their heads at what his fans perceive as "genius"-but Chanyeol has always believed that the simplest things in life aren't really all that simple.
Now he's back in Korea, and he's just finished giving an exclusive interview to SBS News. The female reporter had leaned towards him as close as she could go, her smile sickly sweet, her lips shiny with red lipstick. Chanyeol had smiled back because that was what people expected him to do, but he couldn't get out of the newsroom fast enough after the interview was done.
"Mr. Park," the reporter's lilting voice calls out after him. He ignores it and stares at his phone, willing it to ring. It rings, and he can't help the wide smile on his face as "Kris" blinks on screen. He answers the call and doesn't even wait for Kris to say hello. "Hey, hyung? I'm in a really sticky situation right now, and I need you to come and save me."
There's a short silence on the other end of the line that has Chanyeol straining not to turn around in case he sees the scary female reporter smiling at him. And then, finally, finally, Kris is huffing out a laugh. "Welcome back, Chanyeol," he says, in that dry baritone Chanyeol hasn't heard in years. "I missed you too."
Three minutes.
Three minutes is all it takes for the editor to reject his work. He barely reads the summary, Jongin thinks, appalled, and he only takes a quick look at the first few pages of the comic Jongin had poured his soul into.
"You just summarized Exo Planet for me," the tired-looking editor-Baekhyun, his laminated ID says-tells him. His eyeliner is smudged and the depth of his eyebags rivals Jongin's, but the fire in his bloodshot eyes is so fierce a really tiny part of Jongin feels like scooting a few meters away from him.
"Geez, he looks like he wants to kill us," Sehun mutters from the side of his mouth.
"The most popular video game in Korea in the past year," Baekhyun continues, voice rising dramatically as he speaks, "created by the one and only game master Park Chanyeol."
Jongin exchanges a quick look with Sehun. Yes, they had worried about that for a few days a long time ago, but by the time they'd heard of Exo Planet and it had come out, the two of them had done too much work on MAMA to just let it go.
You'll never amount to anything, a voice laced with ice whispers in Jongin's ear. He clenches his fists and exhales deeply, willing the memories in his head to go away. He’s okay. He’s already over this.
I knew it from the start, Jongin.
He grits his teeth.
Did you honestly think I was serious about you?
Jongin gives himself a rough shake to get rid of the thoughts trying to take over his head. "I had the idea for MAMA long before Exo Planet even came out," he says, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Besides, it's a game. This is a webcomic."
Baekhyun's fierce expression softens into something more apologetic. "We'd have Chanyeol fangirls all over us informing us about the plagiarism. Your art style is promising-I especially like the backgrounds-but the storyline is too close to Exo Planet. I'm really sorry, but we can't publish your webcomic."
For a moment, Jongin imagines a bolt of lightning striking the editor's head. The moment passes, and he decides Baekhyun really looks way too calm for someone who's just rejected someone else's life work.
"You didn't even read the rest of it," Sehun protests. Jongin feels a small surge of gratefulness at his words. There's an imploring look on Sehun's face that Jongin recognizes: his puppy dog look. The most dangerous thing about it is how Sehun is always sincere when he does it. "We put so much hard work into this. You can't just...reject it like that. Please read it. You'll see, it's different from Exo Planet! "
Baekhyun laughs, sharp and bitter, startling Sehun into silence. Jongin narrows his eyes. "Look," the editor says, squinting at the printout he's still holding to look for Jongin's name. "Look, Kim Jongin, Kai, you see these eyebags? I can't even remember the last time I slept." He gestures wildly at the pile of papers on his desk. "I receive hundreds of manuscripts, portfolios, whatever, every day, and the sad truth is I can't accept every one of them. Life just doesn't work that way." His tone is matter-of-fact. When neither of them say a word, he continues, "Unless you have any original ideas to throw my way, I really can't help you. So if you have nothing else for me, the exit is that way. I really need to take a powernap."
Yes, sometimes, Jongin thinks, life just doesn't work the way you want it to. Sometimes life just isn't easy. His mouth quirks on its own as he considers the implications. Oh, it's too late to back out now. He takes a deep breath. "A love story," he says, his voice quiet. Beside him, Sehun's jaw drops and he hears him mutter a soft "Jongin." He ignores it. "It's a love story."
The editor leans against his seat, a noncommittal expression on his face. "I'm listening."
Chanyeol likes Kris because he's steady. Unlike most people in Chanyeol's life, he can rely on Kris to stay the same, no matter what happens, no matter what anyone else says.
Which is why he's surprised when Kris doesn't fetch him from the station alone like he usually does. Instead, he’s accompanied by a tall girl with straight black hair and a small but bright smile. Kris's face is softer than Chanyeol remembers, the smile on his face the most forgiving he's ever seen it.
"You interrupted my date," Kris says, as brutally frank as ever.
Chanyeol fails to hide a smile. At least, some things still don't change. "You're welcome, miss...?"
"Qian," Kris answers for her. "She doesn't know a lot of Korean yet."
Chanyeol mock gasps. "How will I ever steal her away from you now?"
Kris knocks him upside on the head.
"Please," Chanyeol says dramatically, rubbing the top of his head like it really hurts. "We're not kids anymore."
"You're still a kid to me, kid." Kris elbows him without any malice.
Chanyeol grins and pulls him into an embrace, ignoring his muffled protests along the way. "I'm your favorite childhood friend."
"Favorite alien, you mean."
"I'm flattered," Chanyeol says as he pulls away and gives Kris a long, searching look. "Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment." Kris sighs and rolls his eyes affectionately. "All right. Get in the car before I change my mind. Let me just drop Qian off at her place, then we'll go straight to my flat." Qian's smile gets just a little wider at hearing her name, and Chanyeol notes how pleased she looks when Kris tries to take her hand in his.
Oh, Chanyeol thinks. He feels the strange urge to giggle. "I love having hyungs," he says instead as he enters Kris's car and slouches in the backseat. Qian is already sitting in front with Kris. "They make the best chauffeurs."
Kris gives him another eye roll, just like the old days. "I would tell you to shut up, but I know how that goes."
Chanyeol smiles like butter won't melt in his mouth and watches as Kris puts on Qian's seatbelt. Qian says something that sounds like a reprimand, and Chanyeol keeps watching as Kris says something that sounds just as caustic in Mandarin. They grin at each other as if they're alone in a dark room. Chanyeol almost, almost feels out of place except he's not. "Any time now," he calls out.
Kris has the grace to look sheepish as he pulls away and starts the car. Qian just looks amused. Chanyeol catches Qian's eyes in the front mirror at the last second and grins widely with teeth.
Jongin is the type of person who tries everything before giving up, which is why despite his gut roiling at the words coming out of his mouth (Jongin is no writer of love stories), he persists. "It's about a girl living alone in her flat."
Baekhyun narrows his eyes. "If you say she's living with five cats, this conversation is over."
Jongin watches the changing expressions on Baekhyun's face out of the corner of his eyes and resists the urge to shout, 'Who says it's about anything? I wasn't even thinking about making this up until five seconds ago?' He clears his throat. "No cats."
Baekhyun leans forward and nods his head, an alert expression on his face.
"This girl," Jongin continues, "she's had her heart broken in the past, so she keeps it locked up and safe in her chest, away from the rest of the world. She doesn't want to get hurt again, so she hides the rest of herself from that world too. A modern-day Rapunzel whose only crime is imprisoning herself."
Baekhyun makes a long “hmmmm” sound that has Sehun shooting a dark, disturbed look at Jongin; Jongin ignores him. "Can we get to the love story?" Baekhyun asks. "The conflict? Possibly the love square? I need to know if I can market this."
Jongin hesitates just for a moment because, really, didn't he tell himself a long time ago that he didn't want to sell his soul to the devil? "She peeps on her crush," he says, and the way his voice hushes makes it sound like a confession. "This guy who lives across from her flat. Every day."
The editor leans forward in his seat. "A stalker heroine. Weird but very interesting." Jongin can almost see his gaze sharpening as he mumbles to himself. "Keep going."
And this is the part where Jongin really starts struggling. "She, uh, she has a next-door neighbor in her own apartment complex. He kind of has a crush on her, so I guess he's stalking her too. In a way. "
"Please try to be articulate," Baekhyun says dryly. "Right now, your love triangle sounds okay in theory but not unique enough. You have to keep your audiences entertained." He shrugs his shoulders, and Jongin anticipates him swiveling his chair to return to the pile of manuscripts on his desk.
"What if," Jongin says slowly, his mouth still catching up with the flurry of ideas dancing around in his brain, "what if I told you I was lying when I said...Rapunzel was a girl?"
The air seems to go out of the office. Jongin can tell without looking at Sehun that the other man's jaw has dropped again, but he's more interested in the way the editor has stopped poking at the papers on his desk, his shoulders suddenly stiff on his chair. "Boy's love." Baekhyun turns his chair around to face them both; his eyes are shining like his birthday came early.
Jongin says nothing and just watches as what can only be a smirk grows on Baekhyun's face. "Now this, this is something interesting. No one's gone mainstream with a boy's love story yet. We can market the hell out of this, maybe even secure advertisers for you if you get enough viewers." He grins delightedly, and Jongin is suddenly struck by how young he looks. Behind the eyebags and fierce expression, Baekhyun almost looks like he's Sehun's age. "Have the first three chapters ready in three weeks."
The surge of self-loathing Jongin feels is largely obscured by an overwhelming sense of relief. A spur-of-the-moment idea accepted just like that, while a meticulously planned comic gets a giant no. He doesn't know who he's more disappointed in, the world or himself.
I told you so.
"Well, fuck you too," he tells the voice in his head, his voice pitched low so that Sehun can't hear him talking to himself. He throws his sheaf of MAMA printouts into the nearest trash bin on the way out.
After a long day of editing manuscripts, Kyungsoo decides to unwind the best way he knows how: by checking on Kevin. With his binoculars raised, he slides his curtain aside and gets startled by what he sees. There's another man in Kevin's flat, someone he hasn't seen before. He's almost as tall as Kevin-a rare feat-and he's got curly brown hair that sticks up everywhere. Next to Kevin in his sleek suit and his hair moussed to perfection, the newcomer looks like a mess. He and Kevin are talking to each other, the man's words punctuated with lots of hand movements and the odd twitch of his face. Kevin looks at him like he would a younger brother. The edges of his smile are soft.
The man suddenly looks toward the window, making Kyungsoo flinch. Even though he knows it's too dark for anyone to see him, there's still something disturbing about the way the man just stops moving, his head tilted at an angle as he stares in Kyungsoo's direction. Kyungsoo holds his breath until the man turns to look at Kevin again, the smile and twitch back on his face.
Kyungsoo hurriedly brings the binoculars down and tugs the curtain closed. There's something about his neighbor's new flatmate that weirds him out. The way he looked at the window made it seem like he knew Kyungsoo was there. That couldn't be right, could it?
"I can't believe you used your crush on 365 to bullshit your way into a webcomic gig," Sehun says.
Jongin almost chokes on his cup of coffee. "Oh Sehun!" He knows he's obvious, but is he that obvious to everyone but Kyungsoo?
"What?" Sehun shrugs and looks up from drawing on his portable tablet. They're back in their shared flat, both already concentrating on helping the story Jongin made up on the spot come to life. "Besides, you're taking MAMA's rejection a lot better than I thought you would. Which can only mean you see some merit in using your own nonexistent love life as fodder for your stories."
Jongin rubs his temples. "Do you really want to get hit that badly? I could throw you out of this flat in a heartbeat."
Sehun smirks. "Oh, you won't be able to find a co-artist as good as I am." He's right, but Jongin isn't going to tell him that; his ego's already big enough as it is. Sehun's expression turns serious. "I am crushed, you know. We worked so hard on MAMA. I should've convinced you not to build an entire universe without getting any backing from a publishing house."
"That's life," Jongin says, even though it hurts him to say it. "Sometimes you're on the losing side."
Sehun harrumphs. "I hope I never get to the day where I'm as old and cynical as you are."
"I’m not that old. Brat."
"You only call me that because that's what 365 calls me."
Jongin gives in to the urge to throw a pillow at Sehun's head; Sehun, the brat, dodges it easily.
"So what are you drawing for 365 tomorrow?" Sehun asks, without missing a beat.
Jongin idly traces his fingers along the edge of the table. "Something nice." He smiles.
"Now that's just creepy." Sehun shivers and wrinkles his nose.
Jongin straightens up in his chair and gives Sehun a stern look. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. Get back to work."
Sehun gives him a mock salute and grins. "Yessir."
"There's someone peeping at your flat from the opposite building," Chanyeol says cheerfully as he sprawls his entire length on Kris's living room couch.
"What did I say about lying?" Kris asks without even looking at him. He's squatting on the floor, busy giving his Yorkshire Terrier food in a bowl.
"I wasn't lying," Chanyeol says, because he's not. He can still see the hazy figure in his mind's eye, aiming a pair of binoculars in the direction of Kris's flat.
"I thought I trained you out of your 4D phase."
"You should trust me more, hyung." Chanyeol snorts, aiming to sound offended, but Kris only looks at him with that affectionate smile on his face and Chanyeol's resolve crumbles. Since when had Kris been this...showy?
"I do trust you," Kris says quietly. He shoves half of Chanyeol's limbs aside and squeezes in beside him on the couch.
"I know," Chanyeol answers just as quietly.
Kyungsoo wakes up to the sound of his door buzzer ringing. He sits up immediately, at once alert and annoyed. Only one person dares to wake up him up this early in the morning, and the same person has been banned from visiting Kyungsoo ever since that one time he forced his way into the flat. "You couldn't have just texted?" Kyungsoo mutters to himself, still half-asleep as he pulls on his coat. He lets the obnoxious buzzer keep ringing as he splashes his face with water and wipes it with a towel. By the time he's done, the buzzing is now accompanied by insistent rapping on the door.
"I'm submitting the manuscripts today, okay?" Kyungsoo says as he opens the door. "Did you really need to visit me, Baekhyun?"
"Well, my name is Chanyeol actually," a deep voice greets him, "but okay, I can work with Baekhyun if that makes you feel better about yourself."
Kyungsoo gapes like a fish, his heart leaping in his chest as the cold reality of what's happening hits him. Kevin's guest from last night is grinning at him from the doorway. For a moment, he considers slamming the door in the man's face, but he thinks better of it and continues to gape at him instead.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the guy who's temporarily living with the guy in the flat you were peeping at. You look much younger than I thought you would be, but I only saw your outline from the other side, and I wasn't even sure if you were a girl or a boy." When Kyungsoo doesn't answer, he raises an eyebrow. "So can we stop with the gaping and move on to the talking? You're making me feel unwelcome." Chanyeol steps into Kyungsoo's flat without invitation; Kyungsoo doesn't give way. "We can have it out here, but there are things better discussed in private, don't you think?"
Kyungsoo is still too surprised to protest. Chanyeol gets into the flat, all perfectly even teeth as he smiles, and closes the door behind him. "Your place is so small and clean, but why is it so cold? Don't you have any heating? No wonder you're wearing a coat." He sits on the floor with his legs crossed and stares at Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo tries not to chew on his lower lip too much. "What do you want?" he asks, grateful that his voice sounds steady.
"Oh, nothing, really," Chanyeol says, his tone cheerful but his eyes serious. "I just wanted to talk to someone who knows exactly how I feel."
"But we don't know each other.”
"Yeah," Chanyeol says, and turns to look at the window. Kyungsoo's curtains are not yet drawn. "But you know how it feels to look at something from far away, knowing you can't ever have it."
The words sit in the air for a moment, frozen in all their implications.
Kyungsoo lets out a sharp intake of breath. "Out."
Chanyeol doesn't move from his position on the floor.
"Get out," Kyungsoo repeats. "You have no right to poke your nose into other people's business."
Chanyeol merely raises an eyebrow and continues to smile at him. "It is, when you're peeping into the home of my best friend. That just stinks of hypocrisy, Kyungsoo."
Kyungsoo flinches. "I didn't tell you my name," he says, his throat suddenly dry.
"I found this outside your door." Chanyeol dangles a carton of milk in the air as if from nowhere, a familiar yellow post-it stuck in front of it. "This Jongin person calls you that. He sounds like he's very fond of you."
Kyungsoo lunges at Chanyeol and attempts to snatch the carton away from him, but the taller man just gets up from the floor and proceeds to, well, tower over him. Kyungsoo curses under his breath. Damn tall people.
"Look, if you're here to threaten me about peeping on Kevin, fine. But just because I did something wrong doesn't mean you have the right to invade my privacy too."
Chanyeol's eyebrows furrow and he scratches his head. "Who's Kevin?" He snaps his fingers, eyes suddenly lighting up. "Ah, you mean Kris. Of course."
So his name is Kris. Kyungsoo studiously pretends he's not blushing. "Just go."
Chanyeol carefully places the carton of milk on top of Kyungsoo's head and holds it there.
"Hey!"
Chanyeol grins, and Kyungsoo has the distinct feeling he's just doing everything he can to rile him up. "Stop looking at me with such judging eyes. It's scary."
"And barging into someone else's flat isn't?"
Chanyeol moves the carton of milk to the coffee table in the living room. "I told you. I'm only here because I need someone to talk to." He looks at Kyungsoo imploringly, eyes all big and innocent. Kyungsoo wants to punch him. "And you seem like you'd understand."
“Well, I don't like talking to strangers."
Chanyeol sniffs. "I just came from abroad. I don't know a lot of people around here. The least you could do is be my friend."
Kyungsoo looks at Chanyeol's hopeful smile and feels suddenly drained. "Just go," he says quietly. "Please." I can't handle this right now.
Chanyeol regards him with a contemplative look. "Okay." He waves goodbye at him with both hands. "I'll see you tomorrow," he sing-songs on the way out.
Kyungsoo locks the door behind him when he leaves and hangs the chain for good measure. He sighs and stares at the carton of milk on his table. Instead of Jongin's post-it, there's a triangle-shaped piece of paper stuck on top of the carton, a cell number and Chanyeol Park written on it in Roman alphabet. A pendant shaped like a phoenix lies next to it on the table.
Jongin has just stepped out the door to spy on Kyungsoo-after 30 minutes of pacing around in his flat and worrying about Kyungsoo's reaction to his note today-when he sees a man getting out of Kyungsoo's flat. He blinks. There's an extremely tall man getting out of Kyungsoo's flat, to be exact. He blinks again.
"Oh my god, it's Park Chanyeol," Sehun all but yells in Jongin's ear. He wants to give him a dirty look, but he's too busy watching Chanyeol humming to himself in front of Kyungsoo's door. Chanyeol notices them and smiles. "Hi," he says, sounding for all the world like he knows them even through that one syllable. "So which one of you is Jongin?"
Jongin can feel his jaw dropping, just as he knows Sehun is surely making a choking noise beside him.
"Ah," Chanyeol says, looking straight at Jongin. "That must be you then. Your doodles look fantastic. I bet your full-scale drawings look even better." He strides toward them and is in front of Jongin in three steps.
Did Kyungsoo show this guy his drawings? Jongin almost feels sick at the thought. He recalls the remnants of MAMA now most probably in some landfill somewhere and feels his chest constrict.
"You should tell him in person," Chanyeol tells Jongin, placing a familiar yellow post-it note into his palm. He sounds cheerful, but there’s a steely glint to his eyes. "It would save us all a world of trouble."
Jongin's mouth is still open when Chanyeol turns to leave. He's only starting to collect himself when the door to No. 365 opens and a distracted-looking Kyungsoo comes out dressed in a black turtleneck and a thick blue coat.
Sehun elbows Jongin, but he can't seem to control his limbs. "Hello, 365," Sehun chirps, when Jongin doesn't react.
Kyungsoo's gaze automatically sharpens as it zones in on Sehun. "Hi, brat." A pause and a shadow of a smile as he regards Jongin. "Jongin."
"Where are you going?" Sehun asks.
If looks could kill, Sehun would be crumbling to pieces right about now. "I need to return something to someone." Kyungsoo walks off like a man on a mission.
When Kyungsoo is out of sight, Jongin slumps against the door, the tension finally leaking out of his limbs. He looks at the sticky note he has unconsciously crumpled in his hands. "Go out with me?" he had written on it in his best script underneath a doodle of two people holding hands.
"What the fuck just happened?" Sehun mutters into the silence.
"You're following me." Chanyeol stops to look back at Kyungsoo's huffing figure behind him.
"Yes," Kyungsoo says in between breaths, "I am." He looks fiercely determined, and Chanyeol thinks he's right to reassess his initial impression of him as being a timid person. "Here."
Chanyeol finds himself holding on to the phoenix pendant he'd deliberately left behind for Kyungsoo. "This is a present. For being my first new friend in Korea."
"Well, I don't want it," Kyungsoo snaps. "And you can have your number back too." He flings a piece of paper in Chanyeol's direction. It flutters harmlessly to the ground.
Chanyeol can't help it; he laughs. He watches the fight drain out of Kyungsoo's body to be replaced by a frowning mouth and a confused look in his eyes. "I don't understand why you have to resort to peeping into flats. You're strong and determined. You could have introduced yourself to Kris anytime you wanted. Kris isn't some god, you know. He's just human like you and me. What are you so afraid of?"
Kyungsoo's whole body language closes up, something Chanyeol notes with interest. "In fact," Chanyeol continues, "let's have you meet him right now. What do you think? It's his day off, and I'm his favorite alien. I'm squatting at his place. He can't refuse me."
"Okay."
"That's okay. We can meet him next-" Chanyeol cuts off his words. "You said okay."
Kyungsoo raises his chin up at him, daring him to say anything to the contrary.
Chanyeol gives him another considering look. "All right. Let's go then."
Part 2
Kai/Kyungsoo (main), Chansoo, Krisoo, hints of others
15,809 words, PG-13, AU
Copy editor Kyungsoo peeps on the handsome guy who lives across from his flat, while the artist next door, Jongin, nurtures a crush on him.
a/n: Written for sncj_bigbang. Loosely based on the K-Drama Flower Boy Next Door. In my head, I call it, "What FBND Would Have Been Like If Everyone Had Gotten Their Act Together." Originally posted here. See gorgeous art by halcyondusk for this fic here.
It begins on a sunny spring day when 22-year-old Jongin wakes up in the morning with a nasty hangover and a stray thought in his head asking him what would make life worth living again. There's a bottle of soju calling his name in the living room, and it takes all of his self-control not to give in to the urge to empty it.
He forces himself to leave his apartment complex and wanders into a nearby park. There is a bench and on that bench sits a boy who looks around his age with the roundest eyes Jongin has ever seen. The rest of his face is slightly obscured by a thick wool scarf wrapped around his neck. He shifts a little, and Jongin gets a glimpse of his mouth. In spite of himself, his gaze is drawn to the boy's smile. It's small and hesitant but so sincere that he has the urge to actually smile back.
He resists it but decides sitting down next to him on the bench isn't a creepy thing to do. "Nice day, isn't it," he says in a low voice, careful to direct his statement at the air in case the boy doesn't want to be disturbed. He's gratified when the boy doesn't scoot away.
"Yes." The boy's voice is quiet but determined.
Jongin looks at him out of the corner of his eye, hoping his face doesn't betray his surprise. He doesn't actually expect an answer although it's nice to have someone listening to him again after months of being holed up in his flat with no one to accompany him except his thoughts and his misery. The boy is shivering in his brown coat, but he doesn't look especially cold. He doesn't say anything else, so Jongin assumes that's the end of their conversation. The silence stretches, but oddly enough, it doesn't feel uncomfortable.
For an hour, they just sit next to each other, soaking in the silence and the first of the sun's rays. It's the best Jongin has felt in months. He feels himself leaning back and relaxing against the wooden bench. The constant ache in his chest is reduced to a dull throb. There's something about this moment that makes him feel like the Jongin of before, the Jongin from a year ago, fresh from graduating college and eager to change the world.
On impulse, he turns to the boy and says, "Thank you."
"You're welcome, I suppose." The words are accompanied by a dubious expression on the boy's face. He makes the most interesting expressions with his eyes.
This time, Jongin lets himself smile. "I'm Kim Jongin. What's your name?"
"A famous man once said, 'Don't talk to strangers.'" The boy's voice is perfectly even, but Jongin suspects there's a smile hidden in there somewhere.
Jongin's own smile stretches into a grin. "Yes, well, I need to know your name so that I can dedicate my next webcomic-well, first webcomic-to you. I haven't felt this relaxed in months."
The look on the boy's face makes Jongin think this isn't the strangest pick-up line he's heard, far from it, not that Jongin is trying to pick him up.
"Do Kyungsoo."
It sounds so ordinary, Jongin thinks, and yet. He looks at the boy again and proceeds to mentally catalogue everything about him from the way his gloved fingers are clutching at his coat in a vise grip to the way his eyes change from dark brown to hazel when he tilts his head slightly to gaze at the sky. There's a story here somewhere, Jongin thinks, noting the contrast between Kyungsoo's nervous fingers and the relaxed way his feet are planted firmly on the ground.
When he gets home that evening, he takes out his old graphics tablet for the first time in six months and opens his desktop computer to begin working. The seed has been planted in his head: twelve boys separated into two groups, he thinks, each with a unique superpower. He'll call it MAMA. He starts sketching the first boy, pale and thin and wide-eyed, a thick brown coat wrapped around his body. He is crouching on the ground, the tips of his slender fingers touching barely concealed cracks on the soil. D.O., the cracks spell out.
"Do Kyungsoo," Jongin says aloud, the words echoing in the silence of his flat.
His name was Lu Han.
Kyungsoo still dreams about him sometimes, the way strands of his straight brown hair would fall into his eyes, the way his smile was gentle but could really, unexpectedly turn very wicked. In his dreams, sometimes Lu Han glowed as if all the light in the room were reflected on his skin, so much so that it hurt just to look at him. Kyungsoo kept looking anyway. Lu Han was kind of devastatingly beautiful that it was all Kyungsoo could do not to reach out and touch him. Dangerous, his mind screamed. Want, his body replied. Then Lu Han would smile and Kyungsoo would feel his pulse beating in his mouth.
Once, Kyungsoo did touch him. He woke up with wetness trailing down his cheeks, and it was only when he was sitting down to breakfast that he remembered it was because when he'd tried to touch Lu Han's face, he had only grasped at thin air. Lu Han had looked at him with such pity on his face that Kyungsoo's cheeks burned with humiliation.
I'm sorry, Lu Han had said back then. I'm sorry, Kyungsoo. And all Kyungsoo could think of was, Why? Why can't it be me?
Kyungsoo was 17.
Kyungsoo is 23 now and he's still dreaming. He wakes up clutching at his chest as if he's drowning, Lu Han's image burning against the back of his eyelids. He lies down in the dark for a while, trying to slow down his breathing as his mind struggles to erase the memory of Lu Han's smile. His hand reaches for his bedside drawer on automatic, fingers wrapping around the familiar cool metal of his binoculars. Safe, his mind tells him. You're safe.
The next time Kyungsoo closes his eyes, he falls asleep but doesn't dream.
When Jongin gets out of his flat the next morning, he's blurry-eyed from lack of sleep and work adrenaline. He blames both for almost missing the figure standing outside the flat next door-No. 365-with a familiar pair of eyes, mouth hidden by a thick scarf. "Oh, hello." He bursts out laughing because this is just absurd. "Do Kyungsoo, I didn't know we were next-door neighbors."
Kyungsoo looks at him a little warily, but eventually he says, "I didn't even know I was living next to anyone. It’s not like I get out much.”
There's something almost defensive about Kyungsoo's tone. "Oh, don't get me wrong," Jongin says. "Have you even heard any signs of life from my flat? I didn't know I had a next-door neighbor either." He doesn't add, 'In fact, yesterday was the first time I went out in months. I have really bad nightmares and wash them away with soju. How about you?'
Jongin watches Kyungsoo's posture relax just a bit. "Going out for a walk?" he asks because it's natural to be polite to your next-door neighbors.
"Yes." Kyungsoo is already moving, and Jongin easily catches up with him in front of the elevator. He's tempted to ask more: who, what, where, when, why? Old habits die hard, he thinks three minutes later, as he surreptitiously watches Kyungsoo's slight figure standing next to him in the elevator.
You're not worth anything, Jongin, he hears her voice inside his head, and he flinches, not expecting the memory to hit him in the middle of the day.
"What's wrong?" Kyungsoo asks, voice solid and real.
"Just lack of sleep," Jongin answers, hoping he doesn't sound dismissive. His next-door neighbor is looking at him now with eyes he can't read. "I was working too late last night," he adds.
Kyungsoo nods but doesn't ask anything else. Jongin finds himself closing his eyes in relief.
When the elevator opens, Jongin has collected himself enough to say goodbye to Kyungsoo. His eyes follow Kyungsoo's figure slowly disappearing as he walks away from him and wonders for the first time what the future will bring.
Kyungsoo has a ritual when he wakes up in the morning. He reaches for the binoculars on his bedside drawer, forces himself to get out of bed, and shuffles his way towards his heavily curtained window. The chill of his small, cold flat causes him to tug his brown coat closer to himself, and he shivers slightly as he pulls the curtain to one side. The first rays of the morning sun hit his eyes, bright flashes that make panic bubble inside his chest and contemplate going back to bed. He raises his binoculars with shaking hands and immediately feels himself calming down. The man who lives across from his flat-Kevin, Kyungsoo has named him in his head-is awake.
Kevin's smiles are wide and full of pearly white teeth. Kyungsoo watches carefully as the tall man scratches his little Yorkshire Terrier behind the ears and presses a kiss into his fur. He cuts an impressive figure in a three-piece pinstripe suit, Kyungsoo thinks, but nothing can disguise the look of pure affection on his face as he plays with his dog. Watching him makes Kyungsoo smile. The unconscious tension in his shoulders disappears, and a wave of peacefulness soon follows as he watches Kevin grab his briefcase from the coffee table and say goodbye to his dog.
One day, I'll have the courage to meet you, Kyungsoo thinks, as Kevin returns to the flat to grab a piece of toast from the table.
The twinge in his gut is telling him it's a lie, but he ignores it, and he also ignores the voice inside his head going, You've given up on this a long time ago.
The truth hurts because it's real. In the back of Kyungsoo's head, a tableau is playing: Kevin home from work just the other night, a lithe woman by his side with long, straight jet black hair and a tiny waist. Kyungsoo immediately names her Victoria because there's something commanding, almost regal, about her bearing that matches Kevin's own charismatic presence well. They smile softly at each other, and if Kyungsoo can only get a little closer, can only watch them with just his eyes and no need for binoculars, he knows he will see the look of understanding that passes between them as Kevin slowly threads his fingers through hers.
Kyungsoo lets the curtain fall back against the window. He returns the binoculars to his bedside drawer and shuffles his way to the entrance of his flat. There's a carton of milk outside his front door with a post-it on it, and Kyungsoo lets himself smile as he sees what's on it: a cartoon version of himself with big anime eyes clinging for dear life to the edge of a giant smiley. "So you hate emoticons," the note says in messy hangul. "Well, I don't. ^_^ Good morning, Kyungsoo! Drink your milk, so you'll get taller." A cursive Jongin is signed on the bottom right portion of the post-it.
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at his next-door neighbor's words but dutifully opens the milk carton and pours himself a glass. He tacks the post-it on the corkboard on his wall beside yesterday's post-it ("Well, we can't all be tall, dark, and handsome, but since you're so pale, you might as well drink this to maintain that milky complexion"). He takes his place behind his desk, just a few feet away from his bed. The sound of his laptop booting up is comforting, and as he runs his fingers over his keyboard keys, Kyungsoo can almost feel the rest of the world fading away. You're safe, his mind tells him, almost like an afterthought. It's going to be all right. He takes one last look at the row of post-its on his wall before starting to type.
They say 'regret' is a lonely word and 'unrequited' even lonelier still, he writes, but for this boy, these words are best friends he keeps close to his chest because the alternative is something too heavy to bear.
They say it's better to have loved and lost-Kyungsoo's fingers hover over the keys as he swallows over the lump in his throat-than to have never loved at all. What they don't say is how your heart no longer belongs to you afterward, gone and never to return.
It takes Jongin the better part of the year to pick himself up from his slump, but when he finally makes the decision to be a webcomic artist, he goes all in. And now, after a year of living on ramyun and three hours of sleep a day in his dingy little flat with his annoying little flatmate, he's finally done.
He calls his masterpiece MAMA: a story about twelve boys with superpowers born on opposite sides of the same planet, separated by a twist of fate only to meet again years later when an evil overlord threatens to take over the world. There's action, violence, drama, love, despair-and most of all, hope. Hope, Jongin's mind stutters, is something everyone needs, wants, but avoids actually talking about.
His annoying flatmate (AKA Sehun; AKA his amazing co-artist, but he'll never tell him that) accompanies him to the publisher's office. They're both too tall for their shabby, secondhand suits, but Jongin is so happy about finally, finally accomplishing something that he doesn't care. As soon as they sit down on the uncomfortable office chairs the editor has in front of his desk, Jongin hands him printouts and a flashdrive.
"What do you have for me?" The smile on the editor's face is almost sweet, and even though it's the first time they've met, Jongin's gut is telling him he can trust his judgment.
Jongin puts on his best outside world smile. "Something we hope you'll find as phenomenal as we do." His voice sounds unbearably fake, and he fights back a wince. He and Sehun both unconsciously hunch their shoulders as the editor silently pores over their work.
Jongin feels the familiar burn of anticipation in his gut, and he licks his lips.
Please, he prays to no one in particular (the last time he's believed in anything, things hadn't gone all that well). Please just let me have this one thing.
For the second time in his life, Jongin is waiting for an answer. This time around, he's hoping he gets a yes.
Chanyeol has been a builder of worlds for as long as he can remember. Having been left to his own devices in a huge, empty house as a kid (his parents both went to work for the family corporation; it was for his own good, they said), he had played by himself, surrounded by laughing wood elfs and cheeky mermaids. Occasionally, there was his next-door neighbor, Kris, but in the end, it was still Chanyeol who had to stay behind in a dreary house with only his imagination for company.
In his mind's eye, the world was a giant playground he could shape according to his whims. In his favorite world, he was still Chanyeol and yet not Chanyeol, someone with the power to build bonfires and burn down forests if he chose, someone caught in the middle of deciding whether he wanted to use this knowledge for good or for evil. It was only natural that he chose to make video games as a living. After all, it was the best way to turn his worlds into reality.
It's been fifteen years since his first realization, and he'd like to think he's gotten somewhere with his dreams. After studying in America, he created Exo Planet, currently the number 1 game in Korea. In its dark and gritty world, twelve kids with superpowers get together and become a team of superheroes. Led by Codename Happy Virus, they travel through different dimensions and defeat baddies. It's a simple enough premise-one that has his critics flapping their mouths and shaking their heads at what his fans perceive as "genius"-but Chanyeol has always believed that the simplest things in life aren't really all that simple.
Now he's back in Korea, and he's just finished giving an exclusive interview to SBS News. The female reporter had leaned towards him as close as she could go, her smile sickly sweet, her lips shiny with red lipstick. Chanyeol had smiled back because that was what people expected him to do, but he couldn't get out of the newsroom fast enough after the interview was done.
"Mr. Park," the reporter's lilting voice calls out after him. He ignores it and stares at his phone, willing it to ring. It rings, and he can't help the wide smile on his face as "Kris" blinks on screen. He answers the call and doesn't even wait for Kris to say hello. "Hey, hyung? I'm in a really sticky situation right now, and I need you to come and save me."
There's a short silence on the other end of the line that has Chanyeol straining not to turn around in case he sees the scary female reporter smiling at him. And then, finally, finally, Kris is huffing out a laugh. "Welcome back, Chanyeol," he says, in that dry baritone Chanyeol hasn't heard in years. "I missed you too."
Three minutes.
Three minutes is all it takes for the editor to reject his work. He barely reads the summary, Jongin thinks, appalled, and he only takes a quick look at the first few pages of the comic Jongin had poured his soul into.
"You just summarized Exo Planet for me," the tired-looking editor-Baekhyun, his laminated ID says-tells him. His eyeliner is smudged and the depth of his eyebags rivals Jongin's, but the fire in his bloodshot eyes is so fierce a really tiny part of Jongin feels like scooting a few meters away from him.
"Geez, he looks like he wants to kill us," Sehun mutters from the side of his mouth.
"The most popular video game in Korea in the past year," Baekhyun continues, voice rising dramatically as he speaks, "created by the one and only game master Park Chanyeol."
Jongin exchanges a quick look with Sehun. Yes, they had worried about that for a few days a long time ago, but by the time they'd heard of Exo Planet and it had come out, the two of them had done too much work on MAMA to just let it go.
You'll never amount to anything, a voice laced with ice whispers in Jongin's ear. He clenches his fists and exhales deeply, willing the memories in his head to go away. He’s okay. He’s already over this.
I knew it from the start, Jongin.
He grits his teeth.
Did you honestly think I was serious about you?
Jongin gives himself a rough shake to get rid of the thoughts trying to take over his head. "I had the idea for MAMA long before Exo Planet even came out," he says, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Besides, it's a game. This is a webcomic."
Baekhyun's fierce expression softens into something more apologetic. "We'd have Chanyeol fangirls all over us informing us about the plagiarism. Your art style is promising-I especially like the backgrounds-but the storyline is too close to Exo Planet. I'm really sorry, but we can't publish your webcomic."
For a moment, Jongin imagines a bolt of lightning striking the editor's head. The moment passes, and he decides Baekhyun really looks way too calm for someone who's just rejected someone else's life work.
"You didn't even read the rest of it," Sehun protests. Jongin feels a small surge of gratefulness at his words. There's an imploring look on Sehun's face that Jongin recognizes: his puppy dog look. The most dangerous thing about it is how Sehun is always sincere when he does it. "We put so much hard work into this. You can't just...reject it like that. Please read it. You'll see, it's different from Exo Planet! "
Baekhyun laughs, sharp and bitter, startling Sehun into silence. Jongin narrows his eyes. "Look," the editor says, squinting at the printout he's still holding to look for Jongin's name. "Look, Kim Jongin, Kai, you see these eyebags? I can't even remember the last time I slept." He gestures wildly at the pile of papers on his desk. "I receive hundreds of manuscripts, portfolios, whatever, every day, and the sad truth is I can't accept every one of them. Life just doesn't work that way." His tone is matter-of-fact. When neither of them say a word, he continues, "Unless you have any original ideas to throw my way, I really can't help you. So if you have nothing else for me, the exit is that way. I really need to take a powernap."
Yes, sometimes, Jongin thinks, life just doesn't work the way you want it to. Sometimes life just isn't easy. His mouth quirks on its own as he considers the implications. Oh, it's too late to back out now. He takes a deep breath. "A love story," he says, his voice quiet. Beside him, Sehun's jaw drops and he hears him mutter a soft "Jongin." He ignores it. "It's a love story."
The editor leans against his seat, a noncommittal expression on his face. "I'm listening."
Chanyeol likes Kris because he's steady. Unlike most people in Chanyeol's life, he can rely on Kris to stay the same, no matter what happens, no matter what anyone else says.
Which is why he's surprised when Kris doesn't fetch him from the station alone like he usually does. Instead, he’s accompanied by a tall girl with straight black hair and a small but bright smile. Kris's face is softer than Chanyeol remembers, the smile on his face the most forgiving he's ever seen it.
"You interrupted my date," Kris says, as brutally frank as ever.
Chanyeol fails to hide a smile. At least, some things still don't change. "You're welcome, miss...?"
"Qian," Kris answers for her. "She doesn't know a lot of Korean yet."
Chanyeol mock gasps. "How will I ever steal her away from you now?"
Kris knocks him upside on the head.
"Please," Chanyeol says dramatically, rubbing the top of his head like it really hurts. "We're not kids anymore."
"You're still a kid to me, kid." Kris elbows him without any malice.
Chanyeol grins and pulls him into an embrace, ignoring his muffled protests along the way. "I'm your favorite childhood friend."
"Favorite alien, you mean."
"I'm flattered," Chanyeol says as he pulls away and gives Kris a long, searching look. "Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment." Kris sighs and rolls his eyes affectionately. "All right. Get in the car before I change my mind. Let me just drop Qian off at her place, then we'll go straight to my flat." Qian's smile gets just a little wider at hearing her name, and Chanyeol notes how pleased she looks when Kris tries to take her hand in his.
Oh, Chanyeol thinks. He feels the strange urge to giggle. "I love having hyungs," he says instead as he enters Kris's car and slouches in the backseat. Qian is already sitting in front with Kris. "They make the best chauffeurs."
Kris gives him another eye roll, just like the old days. "I would tell you to shut up, but I know how that goes."
Chanyeol smiles like butter won't melt in his mouth and watches as Kris puts on Qian's seatbelt. Qian says something that sounds like a reprimand, and Chanyeol keeps watching as Kris says something that sounds just as caustic in Mandarin. They grin at each other as if they're alone in a dark room. Chanyeol almost, almost feels out of place except he's not. "Any time now," he calls out.
Kris has the grace to look sheepish as he pulls away and starts the car. Qian just looks amused. Chanyeol catches Qian's eyes in the front mirror at the last second and grins widely with teeth.
Jongin is the type of person who tries everything before giving up, which is why despite his gut roiling at the words coming out of his mouth (Jongin is no writer of love stories), he persists. "It's about a girl living alone in her flat."
Baekhyun narrows his eyes. "If you say she's living with five cats, this conversation is over."
Jongin watches the changing expressions on Baekhyun's face out of the corner of his eyes and resists the urge to shout, 'Who says it's about anything? I wasn't even thinking about making this up until five seconds ago?' He clears his throat. "No cats."
Baekhyun leans forward and nods his head, an alert expression on his face.
"This girl," Jongin continues, "she's had her heart broken in the past, so she keeps it locked up and safe in her chest, away from the rest of the world. She doesn't want to get hurt again, so she hides the rest of herself from that world too. A modern-day Rapunzel whose only crime is imprisoning herself."
Baekhyun makes a long “hmmmm” sound that has Sehun shooting a dark, disturbed look at Jongin; Jongin ignores him. "Can we get to the love story?" Baekhyun asks. "The conflict? Possibly the love square? I need to know if I can market this."
Jongin hesitates just for a moment because, really, didn't he tell himself a long time ago that he didn't want to sell his soul to the devil? "She peeps on her crush," he says, and the way his voice hushes makes it sound like a confession. "This guy who lives across from her flat. Every day."
The editor leans forward in his seat. "A stalker heroine. Weird but very interesting." Jongin can almost see his gaze sharpening as he mumbles to himself. "Keep going."
And this is the part where Jongin really starts struggling. "She, uh, she has a next-door neighbor in her own apartment complex. He kind of has a crush on her, so I guess he's stalking her too. In a way. "
"Please try to be articulate," Baekhyun says dryly. "Right now, your love triangle sounds okay in theory but not unique enough. You have to keep your audiences entertained." He shrugs his shoulders, and Jongin anticipates him swiveling his chair to return to the pile of manuscripts on his desk.
"What if," Jongin says slowly, his mouth still catching up with the flurry of ideas dancing around in his brain, "what if I told you I was lying when I said...Rapunzel was a girl?"
The air seems to go out of the office. Jongin can tell without looking at Sehun that the other man's jaw has dropped again, but he's more interested in the way the editor has stopped poking at the papers on his desk, his shoulders suddenly stiff on his chair. "Boy's love." Baekhyun turns his chair around to face them both; his eyes are shining like his birthday came early.
Jongin says nothing and just watches as what can only be a smirk grows on Baekhyun's face. "Now this, this is something interesting. No one's gone mainstream with a boy's love story yet. We can market the hell out of this, maybe even secure advertisers for you if you get enough viewers." He grins delightedly, and Jongin is suddenly struck by how young he looks. Behind the eyebags and fierce expression, Baekhyun almost looks like he's Sehun's age. "Have the first three chapters ready in three weeks."
The surge of self-loathing Jongin feels is largely obscured by an overwhelming sense of relief. A spur-of-the-moment idea accepted just like that, while a meticulously planned comic gets a giant no. He doesn't know who he's more disappointed in, the world or himself.
I told you so.
"Well, fuck you too," he tells the voice in his head, his voice pitched low so that Sehun can't hear him talking to himself. He throws his sheaf of MAMA printouts into the nearest trash bin on the way out.
After a long day of editing manuscripts, Kyungsoo decides to unwind the best way he knows how: by checking on Kevin. With his binoculars raised, he slides his curtain aside and gets startled by what he sees. There's another man in Kevin's flat, someone he hasn't seen before. He's almost as tall as Kevin-a rare feat-and he's got curly brown hair that sticks up everywhere. Next to Kevin in his sleek suit and his hair moussed to perfection, the newcomer looks like a mess. He and Kevin are talking to each other, the man's words punctuated with lots of hand movements and the odd twitch of his face. Kevin looks at him like he would a younger brother. The edges of his smile are soft.
The man suddenly looks toward the window, making Kyungsoo flinch. Even though he knows it's too dark for anyone to see him, there's still something disturbing about the way the man just stops moving, his head tilted at an angle as he stares in Kyungsoo's direction. Kyungsoo holds his breath until the man turns to look at Kevin again, the smile and twitch back on his face.
Kyungsoo hurriedly brings the binoculars down and tugs the curtain closed. There's something about his neighbor's new flatmate that weirds him out. The way he looked at the window made it seem like he knew Kyungsoo was there. That couldn't be right, could it?
"I can't believe you used your crush on 365 to bullshit your way into a webcomic gig," Sehun says.
Jongin almost chokes on his cup of coffee. "Oh Sehun!" He knows he's obvious, but is he that obvious to everyone but Kyungsoo?
"What?" Sehun shrugs and looks up from drawing on his portable tablet. They're back in their shared flat, both already concentrating on helping the story Jongin made up on the spot come to life. "Besides, you're taking MAMA's rejection a lot better than I thought you would. Which can only mean you see some merit in using your own nonexistent love life as fodder for your stories."
Jongin rubs his temples. "Do you really want to get hit that badly? I could throw you out of this flat in a heartbeat."
Sehun smirks. "Oh, you won't be able to find a co-artist as good as I am." He's right, but Jongin isn't going to tell him that; his ego's already big enough as it is. Sehun's expression turns serious. "I am crushed, you know. We worked so hard on MAMA. I should've convinced you not to build an entire universe without getting any backing from a publishing house."
"That's life," Jongin says, even though it hurts him to say it. "Sometimes you're on the losing side."
Sehun harrumphs. "I hope I never get to the day where I'm as old and cynical as you are."
"I’m not that old. Brat."
"You only call me that because that's what 365 calls me."
Jongin gives in to the urge to throw a pillow at Sehun's head; Sehun, the brat, dodges it easily.
"So what are you drawing for 365 tomorrow?" Sehun asks, without missing a beat.
Jongin idly traces his fingers along the edge of the table. "Something nice." He smiles.
"Now that's just creepy." Sehun shivers and wrinkles his nose.
Jongin straightens up in his chair and gives Sehun a stern look. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. Get back to work."
Sehun gives him a mock salute and grins. "Yessir."
"There's someone peeping at your flat from the opposite building," Chanyeol says cheerfully as he sprawls his entire length on Kris's living room couch.
"What did I say about lying?" Kris asks without even looking at him. He's squatting on the floor, busy giving his Yorkshire Terrier food in a bowl.
"I wasn't lying," Chanyeol says, because he's not. He can still see the hazy figure in his mind's eye, aiming a pair of binoculars in the direction of Kris's flat.
"I thought I trained you out of your 4D phase."
"You should trust me more, hyung." Chanyeol snorts, aiming to sound offended, but Kris only looks at him with that affectionate smile on his face and Chanyeol's resolve crumbles. Since when had Kris been this...showy?
"I do trust you," Kris says quietly. He shoves half of Chanyeol's limbs aside and squeezes in beside him on the couch.
"I know," Chanyeol answers just as quietly.
Kyungsoo wakes up to the sound of his door buzzer ringing. He sits up immediately, at once alert and annoyed. Only one person dares to wake up him up this early in the morning, and the same person has been banned from visiting Kyungsoo ever since that one time he forced his way into the flat. "You couldn't have just texted?" Kyungsoo mutters to himself, still half-asleep as he pulls on his coat. He lets the obnoxious buzzer keep ringing as he splashes his face with water and wipes it with a towel. By the time he's done, the buzzing is now accompanied by insistent rapping on the door.
"I'm submitting the manuscripts today, okay?" Kyungsoo says as he opens the door. "Did you really need to visit me, Baekhyun?"
"Well, my name is Chanyeol actually," a deep voice greets him, "but okay, I can work with Baekhyun if that makes you feel better about yourself."
Kyungsoo gapes like a fish, his heart leaping in his chest as the cold reality of what's happening hits him. Kevin's guest from last night is grinning at him from the doorway. For a moment, he considers slamming the door in the man's face, but he thinks better of it and continues to gape at him instead.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the guy who's temporarily living with the guy in the flat you were peeping at. You look much younger than I thought you would be, but I only saw your outline from the other side, and I wasn't even sure if you were a girl or a boy." When Kyungsoo doesn't answer, he raises an eyebrow. "So can we stop with the gaping and move on to the talking? You're making me feel unwelcome." Chanyeol steps into Kyungsoo's flat without invitation; Kyungsoo doesn't give way. "We can have it out here, but there are things better discussed in private, don't you think?"
Kyungsoo is still too surprised to protest. Chanyeol gets into the flat, all perfectly even teeth as he smiles, and closes the door behind him. "Your place is so small and clean, but why is it so cold? Don't you have any heating? No wonder you're wearing a coat." He sits on the floor with his legs crossed and stares at Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo tries not to chew on his lower lip too much. "What do you want?" he asks, grateful that his voice sounds steady.
"Oh, nothing, really," Chanyeol says, his tone cheerful but his eyes serious. "I just wanted to talk to someone who knows exactly how I feel."
"But we don't know each other.”
"Yeah," Chanyeol says, and turns to look at the window. Kyungsoo's curtains are not yet drawn. "But you know how it feels to look at something from far away, knowing you can't ever have it."
The words sit in the air for a moment, frozen in all their implications.
Kyungsoo lets out a sharp intake of breath. "Out."
Chanyeol doesn't move from his position on the floor.
"Get out," Kyungsoo repeats. "You have no right to poke your nose into other people's business."
Chanyeol merely raises an eyebrow and continues to smile at him. "It is, when you're peeping into the home of my best friend. That just stinks of hypocrisy, Kyungsoo."
Kyungsoo flinches. "I didn't tell you my name," he says, his throat suddenly dry.
"I found this outside your door." Chanyeol dangles a carton of milk in the air as if from nowhere, a familiar yellow post-it stuck in front of it. "This Jongin person calls you that. He sounds like he's very fond of you."
Kyungsoo lunges at Chanyeol and attempts to snatch the carton away from him, but the taller man just gets up from the floor and proceeds to, well, tower over him. Kyungsoo curses under his breath. Damn tall people.
"Look, if you're here to threaten me about peeping on Kevin, fine. But just because I did something wrong doesn't mean you have the right to invade my privacy too."
Chanyeol's eyebrows furrow and he scratches his head. "Who's Kevin?" He snaps his fingers, eyes suddenly lighting up. "Ah, you mean Kris. Of course."
So his name is Kris. Kyungsoo studiously pretends he's not blushing. "Just go."
Chanyeol carefully places the carton of milk on top of Kyungsoo's head and holds it there.
"Hey!"
Chanyeol grins, and Kyungsoo has the distinct feeling he's just doing everything he can to rile him up. "Stop looking at me with such judging eyes. It's scary."
"And barging into someone else's flat isn't?"
Chanyeol moves the carton of milk to the coffee table in the living room. "I told you. I'm only here because I need someone to talk to." He looks at Kyungsoo imploringly, eyes all big and innocent. Kyungsoo wants to punch him. "And you seem like you'd understand."
“Well, I don't like talking to strangers."
Chanyeol sniffs. "I just came from abroad. I don't know a lot of people around here. The least you could do is be my friend."
Kyungsoo looks at Chanyeol's hopeful smile and feels suddenly drained. "Just go," he says quietly. "Please." I can't handle this right now.
Chanyeol regards him with a contemplative look. "Okay." He waves goodbye at him with both hands. "I'll see you tomorrow," he sing-songs on the way out.
Kyungsoo locks the door behind him when he leaves and hangs the chain for good measure. He sighs and stares at the carton of milk on his table. Instead of Jongin's post-it, there's a triangle-shaped piece of paper stuck on top of the carton, a cell number and Chanyeol Park written on it in Roman alphabet. A pendant shaped like a phoenix lies next to it on the table.
Jongin has just stepped out the door to spy on Kyungsoo-after 30 minutes of pacing around in his flat and worrying about Kyungsoo's reaction to his note today-when he sees a man getting out of Kyungsoo's flat. He blinks. There's an extremely tall man getting out of Kyungsoo's flat, to be exact. He blinks again.
"Oh my god, it's Park Chanyeol," Sehun all but yells in Jongin's ear. He wants to give him a dirty look, but he's too busy watching Chanyeol humming to himself in front of Kyungsoo's door. Chanyeol notices them and smiles. "Hi," he says, sounding for all the world like he knows them even through that one syllable. "So which one of you is Jongin?"
Jongin can feel his jaw dropping, just as he knows Sehun is surely making a choking noise beside him.
"Ah," Chanyeol says, looking straight at Jongin. "That must be you then. Your doodles look fantastic. I bet your full-scale drawings look even better." He strides toward them and is in front of Jongin in three steps.
Did Kyungsoo show this guy his drawings? Jongin almost feels sick at the thought. He recalls the remnants of MAMA now most probably in some landfill somewhere and feels his chest constrict.
"You should tell him in person," Chanyeol tells Jongin, placing a familiar yellow post-it note into his palm. He sounds cheerful, but there’s a steely glint to his eyes. "It would save us all a world of trouble."
Jongin's mouth is still open when Chanyeol turns to leave. He's only starting to collect himself when the door to No. 365 opens and a distracted-looking Kyungsoo comes out dressed in a black turtleneck and a thick blue coat.
Sehun elbows Jongin, but he can't seem to control his limbs. "Hello, 365," Sehun chirps, when Jongin doesn't react.
Kyungsoo's gaze automatically sharpens as it zones in on Sehun. "Hi, brat." A pause and a shadow of a smile as he regards Jongin. "Jongin."
"Where are you going?" Sehun asks.
If looks could kill, Sehun would be crumbling to pieces right about now. "I need to return something to someone." Kyungsoo walks off like a man on a mission.
When Kyungsoo is out of sight, Jongin slumps against the door, the tension finally leaking out of his limbs. He looks at the sticky note he has unconsciously crumpled in his hands. "Go out with me?" he had written on it in his best script underneath a doodle of two people holding hands.
"What the fuck just happened?" Sehun mutters into the silence.
"You're following me." Chanyeol stops to look back at Kyungsoo's huffing figure behind him.
"Yes," Kyungsoo says in between breaths, "I am." He looks fiercely determined, and Chanyeol thinks he's right to reassess his initial impression of him as being a timid person. "Here."
Chanyeol finds himself holding on to the phoenix pendant he'd deliberately left behind for Kyungsoo. "This is a present. For being my first new friend in Korea."
"Well, I don't want it," Kyungsoo snaps. "And you can have your number back too." He flings a piece of paper in Chanyeol's direction. It flutters harmlessly to the ground.
Chanyeol can't help it; he laughs. He watches the fight drain out of Kyungsoo's body to be replaced by a frowning mouth and a confused look in his eyes. "I don't understand why you have to resort to peeping into flats. You're strong and determined. You could have introduced yourself to Kris anytime you wanted. Kris isn't some god, you know. He's just human like you and me. What are you so afraid of?"
Kyungsoo's whole body language closes up, something Chanyeol notes with interest. "In fact," Chanyeol continues, "let's have you meet him right now. What do you think? It's his day off, and I'm his favorite alien. I'm squatting at his place. He can't refuse me."
"Okay."
"That's okay. We can meet him next-" Chanyeol cuts off his words. "You said okay."
Kyungsoo raises his chin up at him, daring him to say anything to the contrary.
Chanyeol gives him another considering look. "All right. Let's go then."
Part 2