You hung up on Donghyuck the first time he called you. In your defense, the first thing he did was frantically scream at you to help him. You assumed he may have dialed the wrong number, or perhaps he thought acting like he was in grave danger was hilarious. Hence, you hung up on him and returned to peeling the tangerines you picked out. Additionally, you were having your daily relaxation time and would not like to be disturbed.
He called you for the second time. His voice was much calmer now, and you could hear the hint of irritation and betrayal when he greeted you with deadpan.
"I can't believe you hung up on me! I cannot believe you hung up on me!" He exclaimed, putting his emphasis on specific words that made it sound like he was making an obscure movie reference.
"You were screaming when I picked up the phone," you replied, your eyes trailing the white pith of your tangerines.
"And you still hung up on me!" He accused incredulously, the sound of him slapping his thighs audible enough to travel through the phone. "What if I was in trouble? What if I was being chased? Maybe I am being kidnapped right now and the driver is–no, not you, sir. I am not framing you for anything, don't worry. Anyway, what if I am being kidnapped right now and I am being transported to the outskirts, hm?"
You cleared your throat of the noodle heat and put down your leg. Tilting your head, thoughtful brows knitted to the center of your forehead, you breathed a soft sigh of annoyance before you retorted.
"Hypothetically, if you are in those kinds of trouble, I doubt I can help you much on the other side of the phone. If you were already being chased, or if the kidnapping has gone so far you are already being transported, there is not much I can do to help aside from calling the police and hoping they trace your phone's location." You counted carefully as if giving a lecture. "In fact, I may have to burn my phone or destroy it in a faraway and obscure place, taking into account everywhere I go in preparation of that has to be discreet and spotless of my footsteps. If I know your killer, they may come and find me, and that will be troubling."
"You... hmm..." Donghyuck let the joke dissolve in his mouth as he slid down on the backseat of the taxi. The only thing left on the line was his shallow breathing and a faint smirk on his face.
Your mildly amusing and unreasonably well-thought-out rambles have become a comfort of his, certainly. He hadn't registered the effect is has on him until he heard you go on and on after an unpleasant meeting with his parents; it was like walking out of school on the last day of finals week, with precaution but ultimately, free. The only thing he was unhappy about was that he had to do with the mental image of your thoughtful expression instead of having you in front of him.
Well, he would be seeing you very soon because he did, indeed, need your help.
"I need your help," he said, almost apologetically. "Can you come down the apartment building? And remember to bring your wallet!"
You removed your phone from your ear to stare at the calling screen briefly before putting it back to your ear. Tangerine peels were dropped in the trash bowl, and your back arched straighter than before at the sudden request. You hummed questioningly. "What happened?"
"I can explain later. Just come down, and bring your wallet!"
"Are you in trouble?"
"No–yes, if you don't help me!" He said desperately, rolling his eyes upward to muffle the frustration. "Come down now, I am almost there! Bring your–" Beeps could be heard after you cut the line. He let out an audible huff as he glared at his phone, once against riddled in disbelief that you had the audacity to hang up on him during his most vulnerable moment!
It took Donghyuck minutes to debate whether he should call you again and figure out the possibilities of you even picking up the phone when he does call. He never concluded as the car arrived at the public lot before the small apartment complex you resided in. He glanced outside the window when the driver pulled to a stop, and he breathed out in relief when he saw you standing straight by the door with your phone and wallet in hand.
You grimaced when you saw him point a finger at you from behind the window. He was about to explode on you for hanging up on him, which was something you did on purpose. Bracing yourself, you approached the taxi and held up your wallet when he got out of the car aggressively.
"I have it," you mumbled before Donghyuck got the chance to speak.
He stood dumbfounded as you brushed past him to the driver's window.
You were in your pajamas, he saw, and your hair looked freshly washed and pushed back to avoid having it fan over your face. You smelt great, and he buried that scent in the back of his head. He couldn't catch your face clearly in the dark and see whether your skin had the glistens of skincare products on them, and you talked to him and the driver the way you always did to everybody.
Nothing was out of the ordinary, but he felt like he was burdening you somehow, which he supposed he was. Ringing people up in the middle of the night was usually more about favors than anything else. Even if he had only done it to talk to you instead of showing up at your doorsteps unannounced, you would have been doing him a favor by satiating his need to listen to you speak.
He made a mistake. He should not have come to you. Curse him for thinking of you immediately after escaping the hell that was his home! This would not have happened if he had just thought for a second that you might have had chores or errands to tend to. That was inconsiderate of him. All he did was think about himself. He drags people down with him to make him happy. That's what he does.
"Donghyuck?" You snapped your fingers in front of his face, watching the attention flood back into his eyes. He peered down at you softly, and you tilted your head. "Are you okay?"
Regrets faded in his occupied mind. It gave him the time to register precisely how great the relief he felt was when he saw you for the first time. There was no space left for dread and weariness in his head where you existed. There was no space for his father's ideals in his heart which prioritized you. You made him selfish, and his love for you made him embrace that part of himself. It was the selfishness that granted him happiness because with it he cared about nothing else but what he desired.
Gulping, a mischievous smile bloomed on his handsome face, and he asked, "Not going to hold my face this time?"
You knew exactly what he was talking about. The thought of that evening was buried at the back of your mind. It was not because you consciously kept it out to save yourself from a romantic fall you didn't want to make. It just wasn't something you thought about. You weren't confused about your feelings for Donghyuck when you held his face in your hands that day. You two were only acquaintances, and you were trying to help him regain his composure.
But you were feeling things now, and that encounter stopped being ordinary. You found yourself nitpicking the memory for details of him so you could drown in mild obsession. You remembered the shape of his jaw, the feeling of your skin touching, the content of his words—anything for you to think of and forget when you realized you were taking your affection a step too far.
"No," you replied curtly before adding, "it is not necessary."
"What–yeah, it is! It is so necessary!" He protested with a whine. He proceeded to open his arms and dramatically gave himself a 'seducing' hug by squirming around on one's feet. "I need a dose of skinship to get through the day healthily!"
You puffed air into your cheeks. Part of you didn't want to argue with him because you were tired. The days have been harder for you than usual; all you wanted was to go home, sit down, and indulge in no-brainer activities. You would have to begin studying soon after. The other part of you didn't want to argue with him because, unfortunately, caving into his words was starting to become your habit.
Your expression could easily be mistaken as being fed up, but more in the domain of being defeated rather than angry. Donghyuck pursed his lips in anticipation when you sighed and asked him to hold onto your things. He even leaned down slightly with his head out, ready. He put on a smug smile, the one with his eyes closed in joy. They opened when your palms touched his jaw, and his victorious smile widened to the apple of his cheeks.
"What happened?" You asked, your thumbs unconsciously tapping at his cheeks.
Donghyuck rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, his face quick to pull into a distasteful grimace. If there was one wrong you could do, it was being a reminder. He looked hateful, almost, but not without a comical sensibility to him.
"I fought with my parents because I didn't go home when he asked me to. I did the liberating thing of removing myself from the situation, except my car and wallet got confiscated, so I needed some help."
You hummed. "Was it like what happened last time when I saved you from your driver?"
"Yeah, basically." He nodded.
You stared at him in question. Something was circling in your head that has nothing to do with the problem being discussed at hand, but you have been meaning to ask for a while. He did not spur the question on, it was general curiosity, but it seemed that Donghyuck might have the answer, so you decided to go for it.
"Why do you have a driver if you can drive?" You asked, furrowing your brows.
"Sometimes I don't feel like it," he replied after thinking with uncertainty. You were unsure how he managed to physically manifest uncertainty. Still, it was in the essence of the noises he made. "But I didn't hire the driver. My parents did. They have him fetch guests and partners here and there from time to time for the company they work for."
Money spilled out of his mouth like air. You often had the sense that you underestimated how wealthy Donghyuck's family was because he did not flaunt his money in the most conventional way, or at least not in the way you were used to seeing people on television do so. Some of it came from his parents' seemingly unknowable status as well; you had no plan to dive into it. It was not any of your business. All you needed to know was that you underestimated your underestimation.
"Um, I am not going to bother you long," Donghyuck said after clearing his throat. "I just need to borrow money to stay at a hotel tonight. I will pay you back, I promise."
You were not one for traveling. Granted, you would give the activity the benefit of the doubt that it could be as good as everyone else boasted it to be. You just never got the chance to experience a vacation before. However, still, the thought of dumping all the money to stay over at a foreign place for less than a month, and solely for entertainment purposes, was absurd to you.
The same opinion goes for other temporary entertaining yet forever expensive activities that you found unnecessary due to the existence of a free alternative, such as weddings and concerts, and of course, staying at a hotel because you got in a fight with your parents.
"I won't let you owe me anything," you said with two innocent blinks. "There's no need. You can just stay over for tonight."
Donghyuck raised his brows. That was a peculiar suggestion coming from you since you have shown to be secretive of where you lived, but you were not one to joke or be dishonest that he couldn't bring himself to doubt your offer. Shifting his gaze upward to the rows of doors up at the apartment estate, he found his cheeks heating up slightly at the thought of entering your home.
Dear lord, absolutely not! He would make a damn fool out of himself! Besides, an entire night was way too much alone time with you—oh, wait a minute! Where would he sleep? On the couch, which you've sat on before? On the floor with a pillow engraved with the scent of your detergent? How would he sleep knowing you were laying only a room next to him? Absolutely not! He would quite literally combust!
"That's okay!" He replied hastily, waving his hands. "I don't want to bother you any longer."
"I don't want you to waste fifty dollars on a hotel either."
"Fifty dollars?" Donghyuck whispered under his breath questioningly. When he saw the gears in your brain move through your eyes, he laughed half-heartedly. "Yeah, totally. Yes, you are correct."
You sighed humorously at his poor attempt to cover his expected monetary expenses. "We do live two worlds apart, Donghyuck."
It was such an off-handed thing to say. It probably meant nothing to you. You were speaking only from observation, he knew. But observations were rarely untrue, and the mere idea that what was true was that you and he were two worlds apart struck a chord in his chest. It was not supposed to mean anything, it was supposed to be taken metaphorically, but Donghyuck was having a hard time not listening to other people.
Let alone you, who he always wanted to listen to.
"I am not going to loan you more than that. I do not have that kind of luxury," you mentioned as you retrieved your hands from his face. You did not miss the genuine beat of loss apparent in his eyes, and for a moment, you tempted yourself to touch him again. Only for a second, though. The temptation was gone too soon. "Stay over. I don't mind."
"I feel like you are trying to seduce me," he muttered.
"I am not," you replied curtly.
His lips formed a playful pout but his lips lacked words. He did not need any, the way you waved him off dismissively told him you knew what he wanted to say, or at least you knew the playful spectrum his comeback would fall under. You could even guess the words verbatim, and you knew that you had no desire to listen to them paired with his voice. Anything regarding the art of seduction or flirtation has no qualms being in your head, especially when it was linked directly back to Lee Donghyuck.
Reaching below so you could snatch your belongings away from his hands, you debated against huffing at him with an unreasonably affronted expression. You realized you were planning on projecting your rejection of a love life onto the boy to who you wanted to avoid giving affection, and on second thought? The emotional projection was, logically, not very attractive—oh dear lord, no thoughts of attraction, please!
Donghyuck visibly fumbled when you silently spun on your heels and left. The corners of his mouth turned down, and he almost tripped on his feet when he quickly moved to follow you. He remained quiet as you led him toward the dark staircase at the edge of the building and up three floors. There was not much to comment about the place you lived. It felt shabby and small, yet it was not so bad that he would feel repulsed by it.
(Donghyuck was the type of person to feel unimpressed by things that they believe are not up to par with his usual standard, which was unfortunate because his standards were fed to him on a silver plate and he has never been fed anything else.)
Rubbing his hand against his shirt after he forgot he had reminded himself not to touch the dusty railings, he allowed himself a short tour of gazing around the hallway.
Number plates were etched to the walls just beside the metal gates, and each apartment seemed to have a different design. Some metal gates have worn off their original silver color, and he wondered if that indicated an extended residency. One of the doors had a shoe rack just outside with various shoe sizes, and he smiled inwardly at the thought of a family living inside. Door knobs with keyholes, doorbells with no screens, single doors and single gates—this was nothing he had lived with before.
It was what you could afford after you piece your life back together.
You chose not to notice the way Donghyuck knew to stop when you two reached your apartment door. He drove you home only once back then, and if he knew which apartment you lived in, it could only mean he waited for you to head inside safely before he left. You shook your head to yourself and reminded your heart that in most cases, that was something creepy for a person to do, not heart-warming. Except in those cases, those people were strangers, and you knew very well that Donghyuck was walls away from that even back then.
A mat and a shoe rack were neatly placed by the entrance door. You decided to put the shoe rack inside to eliminate the chances of having your shoes stolen. Even though you had doubted the desirability of your belongings, you believed it was always best to be safe than sorry. The plain mat located just by the door on the floor was where you took off your shoes; you bought it to dirty it.
Donghyuck mirrored your movement without question. He took off his shoes where the mat was located and slotted them neatly into the space on your small shoe rack. There were one pair of four different kinds of shoes: sneakers, work shoes, flip flops, and slippers. All four occupied the top row with one spot to spare, while the bottom row was filled with shoe boxes he assumed belonged to the shoes above in respective order. That was all you needed, he supposed.
"I don't have any extra slippers for you," you mentioned off-handedly when you slipped into your own.
He gave you a shrug, completely nonchalant. "That's fine. Your floor is probably really clean anyway."
"It is clean," you replied instinctively. "Wooden floors are a little bit more complicated to handle. I personally don't understand why people make such a big deal out of it, though. All you need is a routine, the right tools, and the discipline to stick to your cleaning schedule."
"And you are very good at following things," he marveled quietly. "Schedules, rules, instructions...."
You tilted your head, accessing his tone and expression. He appeared to be in a world of his own. His gaze trailed elsewhere around the entrance of your apartment, seemingly with intrigue. Still, the smirk on his face, paired with his drowned-out eyes, told a story you did not want to fathom. It was not like there was anything else to see anyway. Your apartment was only as big as it could be for such a low cost.
Donghyuck did not anticipate to be heard, it seemed. When he caught you staring at him questioningly after taking a quick examination of his tight surroundings, he was visibly caught off guard. He flashed you an unknowing smile, and he sounded, "What?"
"What do you mean by that?" You asked. "You said I am good at following things."
The confusion grew. The statement was shallow and straightforward. It was only exactly what he said and what you have shown to him: you were very strict with your routines. Even though he did mean to incorporate an innuendo, bold to speak, it was not meant for you to hear nor understand. You were the kind of person to take the statements at face value, he did not anticipate the question at all.
Squinting his eyes, Donghyuck held his hand up and pointed a finger at you. He let his wrist bounce his hand loosely while his expression morphed with suspicion. Seconds later, the suspicion faded and was replaced with utter doubt and uncertainty. He inhaled deeply and held his breath in his throat before he spoke, incredulousness evident in his voice, "I feel like you are trying to seduce me!"
"I am not," you replied curtly, just as before.
"Now, hold on–here's the thing. I have been meaning to ask this back down there." He was quick to change the mood as he switched from being unsure to assertive in his dissatisfaction. "Why aren't you seducing me? Why are you not flirting with me?"
The corners of your lips arched downward in an attempt to hide your nauseated expression. Donghyuck was masterfully prepared to be struck down instantly when he saw that your fingers were fiddling with each other and your eyes began to go into a bland, glaring stare. He was ill-equipped to be ripped apart by your honesty, but he was prepared. Yet, what came out of your mouth surprised him more than most things.
"I don't know how to flirt, Donghyuck," you said. "I have tried. I'm no good at it."
He laughed. The funniest thing was not that you never took a page out of the book of flirtation (although there was humor in that as well) but that you so blatantly admitted to attempting to rip a page out and failed. Genuinely, though, he could not imagine you flirting with anyone, so the fact that you have tried before was—huh? His chest hiccuped from a flash of realization, and the giddiness died down like a sword strike.
You have tried flirting before.
"Who did you flirt with?" He asked, his voice losing volume nearing the end of his question because he had involuntarily raised his voice at such sickening thought.
You glared at his ridiculous question. Recalling the idea itself was embarrassing enough for you, how could he so boldly stand here and ask for a storytime? Giving him a shake of your head, you replied, "I don't remember! It was just a regular customer, and I only tried because he flirted with me first! It would have been awkward if I didn't flirt back because he was so bad at it!"
There were a few things to unpack there. Firstly, you could not remember, which he found surprising. For as long as he knew you, which was arguably not very long, you had exceptionally good memories. But if you could not remember it, it meant you did not care for that man, which was good. However, secondly, a regular customer? Could that be an ongoing thing? Was that man sitting in his vicinity today at the café as well?
Donghyuck exhaled and calmed himself down. It felt more like he was letting the ridiculousness of this conversation spread across each of his limbs. It was jealousy that surged through him; the fact that he had never seen that side of you before while a stranger simply had to order a cake and a drink, and the jealousy was ridiculous to him as well. His arms felt flat against his side, he was standing straighter than before, and the deadpan in his eyes was deafening. He spoke with a disappointed but not abandoning voice. His voice was soft.
"That is the single most out-of-character thing you have ever said," he said. "Since when do you care for awkwardness?"
"Customer service is supposed to be out of character," you argued.
"Well, I don't like it," he stated with his hands thrown up in mock surrender.
You shrugged. "It's not up to you."
"I have come to know that very few things are, apparently," he responded bitterly. Most of it came from the hatred he still harbored against the argument his parents and he had.
"I am sure you are in control of most of your life, Donghyuck," you said after a moment of thought. You finally decided to turn away from the door to your apartment and head inside. You two have been standing by the door mat for minutes, focused on your banter. "You just don't have the guts and resources to execute the control."
Donghyuck raised a brow at your words. He understood what you meant but dismissed it quickly because it was not something he liked to admit. In terms of resources, he has more than enough, but those were his parents' resources and not his own. He knew that, and he also knew he did not have the courage to cut ties with his parents even if he hated them because he had minimal skills to regain those resources in a short amount of time.
But the issue was that his parents would never stop supporting him. He may have walked out of the house tonight, but nothing would have changed when he entered the door again tomorrow. He would still have his credit cards and car key. He would still have his queen-sized bed and gaming console. He would still have everything because his parents were not rotten. They were negligent and mean parents, but they were not rotten parents.
The issue was his pride. The problem was that he would hate to have to turn back to his parents for help because he harbored personal hatred for them, but the support would always be there for him, quiet and lasting.
He partially opened his mouth to speak his mind, but his words got caught in a temporary pause when he officially followed you into the small apartment. He had forgotten you invited him to your home, which sounded preposterous in his head because this may be the single most nerve-wracking thing he has ever experienced. This was your home. This was your living space. This was everything that was you, and he knew he would want nothing more than to indulge himself in it.
The apartment was a small space that forced everything to be crammed into one.
The kitchen was slotted into a corner of a wall, with a tiny stove and cabinets underneath for you to store what you needed. The bathroom, he assumed, was behind the only visible door at the back of the room. Near it was a rolling rack of hangers with clothes neatly draped over them. Most of them were simple shirts and pants; he had never seen you in a wide variety of clothes before.
There was no big television, but a coffee table sat a leg's length away from the short couch lined up with the wall. Tangerine peels were stuffed into a bowl, and the rest were placed on a dessert plate, waiting to be eaten upon your return. Parallel with the couch was your bed set all the way to the corner, cozily taking up the most space. There were stuffed animals lined up on the side, each with a similar color scheme to indicate your liking.
A desk the width of your bed was placed just at the end, and Donghyuck could see trinkets on the surface, such as a portable lamp and a portable humidifier that doubled as a night light. Next to your bed was a nightstand with a book on top and a charging cable attached to the edge with the help of a cable organizer. Standing by it was a tall shelf of books, which he could recognize to be related to some of the posters you have hung on your wall.
This was the first time he ever truly basked in your scent. Your home was filled with it. The aroma was nameless as he did not feel it resembled anything he had ever smelt. It was a peculiar fragrance, something akin to the unexplainable and comforting smell a mother's lotion exuded after it was lathered on their skin. He loved every bit of it.
"Here, take these and go shower."
The tap you landed on his shoulder made Donghyuck jump a little. When he pulled back, he saw you give him a questioning shake of your head while you nudged the change of clothes you had unknowingly picked out for him. He received the clothes with uncertainty and examined them one by one: a plain oversized shirt and what he remembered to be the gym shorts from your high school. It has an elastic waistband, so it should fit him just fine, considering he hasn't grown much since high school.
"I'm clean," he said but was already walking toward the bathroom anyway.
"You are not. You are wearing the same thing I saw you on this whole day," you called behind him as you scooted behind the coffee table and sat down. "Throw your dirty clothes in the laundry basket if you want me to wash them for you at the laundromat, or else fold them and put them away!"
He hollered in response. The sound of water running began shortly after and stopped soon enough. You had already set up your phone and were in the middle of catching up with a drama you abandoned a while ago due to your busy schedule. After much thought, you had also decided to bring the entire bag of tangerines closer to you to save multiple back-and-forth trips to the fruit bowl and the coffee table. You were peeling your fifth tangerine when Donghyuck was done.
"I like the smell of your lotion," he said as he ruffled his semi-wet hair with the towel he draped over his shoulders.
"You used my lotion?" You asked absentmindedly.
Donghyuck froze for a second before he continued to make his way over to you. When he was near the coffee table, he tentatively stepped between the space of the table and the couch, urged you to scoot over with taps of his feet against the side of your thigh, and finally sat down cross-legged next to you. He did not think much of it when you automatically pushed the plate of tangerines his way. He only grabbed the fruit and popped them in his mouth.
"What are you watching?" He asked as he leaned over your shoulder to see your phone screen. His eyes lit up quickly when he caught a glimpse of the characters on screen, and he exclaimed before you got to reply, "Oh! I know this one! I read the webtoon before. I didn't know the live-action aired already."
"It was delayed because they had some issues with the cast. I am glad things turned out the way it is now," you mentioned under your breath before popping a tangerine in your mouth. You were about to grab a brand new one when Donghyuck took it off your hands and began peeling the skin. You hummed, not complaining. "I can't imagine anyone else playing these characters."
"I didn't know you read webtoons," he chuckled as he looked at you.
"I don't," you replied. "I am more of a novel person."
"And news articles," he added dismissively as he dumped the skin into the trash bowl on the table. Whenever he placed the tangerines on the plate, he seemed to push it toward your side more and more unknowingly.
"And news articles, yes," you muttered with faint amusement.
You two sat in silence with the company of the sound coming from your phone. Neither of you paid attention to each other. Even Donghyuck, who had to start the drama in the middle of an episode, grew mildly intrigued by it.
And he almost forgot how quiet home can be or how much he appreciated a certain silence. Back where he lived, it was always either the sound of his parents or himself. In the worst-case scenario, it was the sound of both of those mixed messily together. Even when there was nobody else in the house, he often made a big fuss over everything to mask the fact that the silence in his home was a reflection of forced solitude. It was loneliness that sang the tune of quiet in his home.
Here, however, in your home, the quiet was different. The lack of noise was a threat no more but rather a promise of a fulfilled space. The quiet was chosen because he wanted you to focus on an interest you cared about; the quiet was comforting because he knew you would always answer him with sincerity if he spoke; the quiet was domestic because he was sitting with you, and you both were just peeling sweet tangerines for each other to eat.
Sometimes your fingers would touch when you both were reaching for the tangerines. Donghyuck wondered if you noticed how sticky his skin was, his nails tainted with an orange hue that he would wash off before bed. He certainly noticed how sticky yours were. It was not that he paid no mind to it, but rather he did not care for it. A touch of your hand was a touch of your hand regardless of the texture of your skin, and he craved. He craved and craved for a touch of your fingertips.
Was it the same for you? Was the silence of your home haunting before Donghyuck's arrival? Did you use the sound of turning pages and script dialogues to drown out the consequences of your abandonment? Have you ever yearned for noises, even if the noises you used to have were less than perfect? Gazing at you briefly, he wondered those thoughts away in his head, and again, he craved and craved for a touch of your soul.
"I'm going to take a look at your shelf," he blurted out suddenly as he propped himself up onto his feet.
The sudden departure of Donghyuck made your eyes follow him. He moved away from his spot and strutted over to your bookshelf. He spared a quick glimpse over the spines of your books, barely reading through the titles but not entirely dismissing them.
He was interested to know what kind of books you read (fantasy, it seemed), what versions of the copies you preferred to buy (paperbacks, from the looks of it), and how you arranged them (according to series, unlike some he has seen who arrange according to colors).
Donghyuck had no idea what those particular things meant, but they were something about you he could know, and he would learn everything about you if he could.
Placing a hand on his chin and scratching his invisible beard, he leaned back to access the book shelf as a whole before waving his hands as a gesture toward it. He turned his head to you and asked, "Which one of these is your favorite?"
You paused the drama on your phone before shifting on your seated weight. You leaned forward to peek at your shelf as if you didn't already know everything. When you met eyes with Donghyuck, his curious gaze adding pressure to the pace of your response, you could only give him vagueness and uncertainty.
"I don't know, maybe the trilogy on the right side of the second top row?" You replied with a hunched back, shrinking in shame as if you could answer an opinionated question wrong.
You always had the answer to everything. By everything, you did not mean all that was in the world but only what you could be in touch with, which truly mattered. For most questions asked to you, you could answer definitively; the date of a particular historical event, the statistics of a crime, the recipe for a cake, or the inherent nature of people. Even when an answer stood on the grounds of accommodation and compromise, that was still a definite answer.
You have always run on logic. It was your default by choice. You have to be correct, and you have to be right. You have to be sensible. Even if the question trespasses the land of your opinions, you wanted to be correct as it could never be about how you feel. It has never been about how you feel.
"First of all, I find it funny that you chose to tell me where the books are instead of just telling me the title," Donghyuck said, having already reached out and pulled out the book you mentioned to him. "Second of all... there is no second of all...." His voice gradually trailed off as his attention circled the synopsis on the back of the book. He was not interested in it, but still, he asked, "Would you mind if I borrow it to read?"
You popped a tangerine in your mouth with a grimace. "I don't mind it, but that book is annotated, so I am not sure if you'd want to read that copy."
Raising his brow, he swiftly flipped the book to lay it flat on his palm, turning through the pages to scheme over them. It was as you told him. The margins of the books were marked with your neat handwriting, and dry colors highlighted sentences that made you ache. It made the pages look more enriching to him, especially when the added details were your thoughts and feelings.
The shaky feeling in his arms caused him to clutch onto the book tightly. He looked at you with a smile. "That's fine. I'd be happy to read this."
"Okay," you nodded, "just remember to return it when you're done."
Donghyuck huffed out sparks of laughter, his eyes laced with disbelief. Strutting back to his original seat, he plopped down with a thud and carefully dropped the book on his thigh. He leaned toward your side, his torso supported by one arm, and he glared at you. You leaned away from him, the confusion on your face asking the unasked question.
"I am a super responsible person, alright?" He said, patting himself on the chest. "I have been catching up on our project and everything!"
"Well, that is something you are supposed to do when you choose to study at a university," you said.
"Uh, no." He laughed, pointing a finger at you as if he's got essential arguments up his sleeves. "The world as it is today does not allow the existence of a guaranteed job that does not require a degree, so technical–uhm," he cleared his throat briefly before starting again, "what I mean to say is, with that being established, it is either go to university or suffer the hands of unemployment, thus poverty and a painful death."
"It's Hobson's choice."
"Hobson's choice."
You hummed with approval after speaking in unison with him. It should not be surprising that Donghyuck knew about this saying, considering he has mentioned indirectly that he was into philosophy talks. Instead, it was the concept that he would be interested in philosophy that should shock you.
Come to think of it, there was a loud-mouthed student in your philosophy lecture during the first year. The class took place in a lecture hall due to the large crowd it gathered. While most people had their designated spot for the semester, you did not pay much attention to your peers after realizing there was a lack of group work for this class. Besides, you had sat at the front to focus on the professor's absurd amount of notes.
You never caught a glimpse of the student, but now that you recalled the class, you thought his voice was as unique as Donghyuck's. Both of them sounded like the image of hazelnut or berries and nature. Churning your head over, you stared at Donghyuck for a long moment in silence, making him resort to chuckling for ease. That student was loud and opinionated and sounded like soft ash.
"Did you take Mrs.Lee's philosophy class during freshman year?" You asked.
"The Monday and Wednesday class?" Donghyuck rolled his eyes up to think, and then he laughed mischievously at his recollection. "No, but I did crash at his class all the time because I had him for something else, and I thought he was friendly."
"Huh," you acknowledged. "I took that class freshman year. Thought I remembered your voice."
He never saw you. Or maybe he did. Maybe his eyes caught sight of you once, and he let you go because he didn't know you back then. He wrecked his memories to find just the back of your figure and his eyes burned with loss. He missed the unknowing chance to know you when you were seventeen years old, much like how he missed the opportunity to know you when you were fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen years old.
Donghyuck would have loved you dearly.
If you ever get the chance to go back in time, he would tell you to find him. Go to school as you normally would and find a boy named Lee Donghyuck. He is the person who will love you the most in the entire world.
"So we were in the same high school and now the same university. We were technically in the same class, and now we're project partners! And I guessed your phone number correctly!" Donghyuck counted seriously, the playfulness manifesting into the exclaim in his voice. "Soulmates, [Name]! I am telling you, we are soulmates!"
What a miracle that you two were pushed together once again this time. The universe saw its unfulfilled work of matchmaking and decided each year to close the distance between the two of you. In high school, you both were schoolmates, ignorant of the other's presence. During your freshman year of university, you two still brushed past each other in one classroom. And now, finally, just a couple of steps closer together, you were sitting with him, peeling fruits and talking about the past.
"I don't believe in soulmates," you said.
"I kind of got that feeling," he said with a nod. "You never explained to me, though. We were talking about it during lunch, but you shifted the topic."
"There is nothing to explain. I just don't like the concept," you admitted, fiddling with your fingers.
He gasped in horror. If you did not know him better, you would think he was truly repulsed by your negative opinion on such a pure concept. He slapped a hand over his mouth, his brows furrowing in dismay like he was trying to churn out fake tears. There was a leap away from you, but he quickly returned to his seat on the floor after having some dramatic fun waving you off like a mosquito.
"How could you not like soulmates?" Donghyuck argued. "What is there not to like? Someone destined to fall in love with you no matter what! That is a great thing. That is a lovely thing!"
Your nose scrunched to fend off a grimace. It wasn't that you don't like soulmates. You disagreed with the devotion of it. Donghyuck's point of view on soulmates was an ordinary one. Being an avid fan of fiction, you have heard multiple times the reasons behind such a well-loved trope. It took the longest time for you to conclude why you cannot see soulmates the way most people seem to see them.
"Soulmates are fickle, don't you think?" You muttered as you pulled your knees to your chest and shrunk under the spotlight of answering. "I prefer unconditional love."
"Soulmates are unconditional love," he argued. "Like I said, they are destined to love each other no matter what."
"Let me ask you a hypothetical question, Donghyuck. You would love me if we were soulmates, right?"
"Yes," he said without skipping a beat, his eyes trailing your side profile carefully.
"Mhm," you hummed. "But would you still have loved me if we weren't soulmates?"
"Yes." It was quick.
"You don't know that. We aren't soulmates," you said with a roll of your eyes. Turning to look at him with a faint smile, one that was less about joy and more about ridiculousness, you continued, "The condition resides in the fact that soulmates have to be soulmates. I cannot love you unconditionally if we are not destined to be together, so what if we are not soulmates? That itself is not unconditional."
Donghyuck watched your eyes. They sink beneath the layer of light he could typically see in them; the light of cleverness and resourcefulness, the light that made you who you are to him. There was grim and gloom in the way you refused to catch his eyes and instead found refuge on the ground. He wondered if the sorrow that appeared was a product of something more than just your opinionated mind.
Your experience witnessing and receiving love must have impacted how you view soulmates as portrayed in media. Unconditional love was something you valued and wanted, and your desire for it directly resulted from never having it. The two people in your life who were supposed to hand you relentless affection did not give you anything that wasn't staged. It has gotten as far as to provide you with the opposite of affection: pain. Relentless pain.
How did you view him? What position of love did you view him in? Was he part of the group of conditional givers, like your parents? He thought back to the police station, his wretched heart wishing he had done more. He would have jumped to your defense. You hated attention, so he would be careful about making a scene in public. He would not have fought back. Maybe he would have stood before you as a shield.
No more arguments, no more screaming, no more insults. There would be the pain of little hits and little scars, but at least you two would be in pain together.
"I like soulmates because I think it's romantic," he muttered under his breath, his head floating back home to where his parents were, where his pain came from. "I like that there is nobody else for me but this one person and that I am destined to love them with greatness. There is only one way to love this person, and I am the best at it. I really enjoy that thought."
To love someone the way they needed to be loved so they could adequately feel it. You ran the thought in your head with delicacy, and you thought how matching it was that Donghyuck has a mindset so gentle. You smiled to yourself. It was visible, one that made Donghyuck hitch a breath in his throat.
"That is such a wonderful thought, Donghyuck," you complimented with a tilt of your head, side-eyeing him shyly.
This was the smile you flashed when you heard Jeno say his name. It must be.
"Unconditional love is a wonderful thought, too," he said as he sunk toward the ground. He leaned his head on the edge of the couch behind him and mirrored your smile.
"Thanks," you huffed. "We should get to bed soon, by the way. It's getting late, for me at least."
"Oh, yeah, sure!" He responded immediately, turning his head against the couch to look at the clock. He grimaced at how early it was: a mere ten o'clock. He has not slept this early in a long time. He returned to you and said, "I will sleep on the couch tonight."
"That has been the plan," you said with a nod. Instinctively, then, you reached a hand out to his head and fixed his ruffled and static hair with furrowed brows.
Donghyuck closed one eye and held still for you. He laughed between your light strokes in his hair, "My mom used to pat my head like this when I was way younger."
"My mom used to do this to me too." You raised a brow and laughed when he returned the favor by following your actions.
There was a beat of silence when you two were done, with tiny pains that lingered in your chest. But your tiny pains had found each other and held onto one another's hands so they could be less aware of themselves. The tiny pains found each other; you could recognize him because he smelt like you.
Your eyes were soft when you gazed at him, and his mind was sure when he knew that he would still love you no matter the red string on your fingers.
His mind was sure. Because he loves you now, and you two are not soulmates.