This Friend | Yeonbin

8

Soobin P.O.V

For the first time ever, I’m excited about going to the bar.

I even put way more effort into my appearance than normal. I’m wearing my favorite formal clothes, which are dark gray pants and a nice white shirt that actually fits me.

I ironed them, and Dad didn’t even need to tell me to. I’ve tucked the shirt in, and left the top button undone. I’ve put pomade in my hair and pressed it down, so it looks a little more deliberate than the shaggy mess it usually is.

Right now, I’m in the passenger seat of Dad’s car. We reach the bar, and he pulls into the parking lot. Outside, there are a bunch of parked cars and motorbikes, but the street looks mostly empty. It pretty much always does after sundown in this part of town.

The skyline is deep purple. I’d take a photo for my Instagram, if Dad wasn’t right here.

He pulls on the hand brake, then turns to face me.

“Are you wearing cologne?” he asks.

I am, in fact. I snuck into his room and stole some of his. I picked Bleu de Chanel. I didn’t think he’d notice.

“Yeah, I hope that’s cool?”

“It’s fine. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you might’ve put on too much.”

Did I?

Oh God, I did.

I feel totally sick. The whole point of doing this is so I’ll smell good. For Yeonjun. And everyone on earth hates people who wear too much cologne or perfume.

One of my aunts always wears too much, and it makes me dread being near her. It’s like being thwacked in the face with a bouquet of flowers over and over.

“Next time, just use two sprays, one on each wrist, then hold them to your neck for a few seconds,” says Dad, showing me how it’s done. “That’s all you need.”

“Noted.”

I used literally four times that.

“But I do like the enthusiasm,” he says. “You wearing cologne, coming along. It’s a good look for you.”

I smile weakly. “Thanks.”

We get out of the car and go down the street. Around us are low white buildings. A few thin, sad-looking palm trees are dotted around the place, along with power lines, and overflowing dumpsters.

We’re far enough away from the city that there’s no flowing traffic, so the whole place is really still.

The exterior of Jimmy’s is nothing special, to be honest. It’s just a big off-white rectangle, with the name of the bar in red and green neon on the front.

The alley runs down its left, and there’s a red pop-out awning above the door. Underneath it is a bouncer, a big guy wearing all black. He has a tattoo of a scorpion snaking up his neck.

He recognizes Dad, so he waves us through.

Inside, I peer around.

My cousin is playing pool with Vince. They both nod at Dad and ignore me. P.J is standing by the jukebox.

I can’t see him.

Phew.

I mean, I do want to see him. Just not yet. Not until I’ve washed the cologne off and Dad’s gone upstairs.