♫- Even Though You Said So Easily, Blue, Circle, Only
You hold up two sweaters of identical cuts, switching them back and forth in front of your chest as you scrutinize your reflection.
"Ugh, I can't decide," you groan, stressing the last word, and a laugh emits out of your cell phone.
"What colors are they? That's important," Karina asks, painting her nails black on the other end of the line. Normally she'd be helping you get ready for such an event in person, but she was one of the few people you knew that decided to fly back home.
"I've got yellow and red."
"Girl, I graduated from FIT. Is the red scarlet, or burgundy? Be specific."
"It's uhhh..." you tilt your head, not used to thinking about colors so critically. "It's like a wine red, I think?"
"No. That's too reminiscent of Christmas."
"But that's like a month away!"
"I'd excuse it if it was a holiday party, but this is a 'Friendsgiving?' Is that what he called it?"
You sigh, taking the yellow sweater off its hanger and throwing the reject onto your bed. However upon putting it on, you notice a very obvious, blob shaped problem around the hem.
"Hey, yellow sweater is out," you sigh, pulling the top off over your head. "I forgot to take it to the laundromat this week."
"Red sweater it is!"
"What about what you just said-"
"Forget what I said. Red is bold, red is fierce, red is sexy," she says excitedly, and you giggle at the horrible rendition of a meow coming through the receiver as you pull the winning sweater over your head.
"What if I don't feel like any of those things?" You laugh, and she scoffs, blowing off your concern.
"Please, this is all about perception. The sweater will do the dirty work for you."
You turn back to the mirror, holding your hair back in a mock ponytail.
"Should I have my hair up or down?"
"How many shoulders are exposed?"
You slide the sweater to one side, showing off the strap of your lacy brown camisole.
"One."
"Wear it down, but push it to the side that isn't exposed."
You follow her instructions and assess your appearance, but can't shake the feeling that something is missing.
"Any jewelry ideas?" You ask, picking up some bangles from your mom's jewelry box.
"Any statement necklace will do."
You settle on a simple gold locket, clasping it around your neck right as you hear someone knock on your front door.
You whip your head around to your alarm clock. 6 pm.
"Crap, oh my god Karina he's here," you whisper yell, putting away any open makeup and scrambling to find your shoes. "Oh my god, I'm literally not ready-"
"Yes you are, don't be silly," she scolds, excitement leaking out of her tone.
"What if I say something dumb in front of his friends-"
"You won't, now go, before he thinks you stood him up."
"Okay...okay I'm going. Love you!"
She cheers and sends flying kisses through the phone before hanging up, and you quickly shove your phone into your pocket before running to the front door.
You can do this. It's not a date, it's just a Thanksgiving party.
You open the door and pray that your pupils aren't shaped like hearts when you take in his appearance.
Joshua stands in the hallway, carrying a pumpkin pie(you're not even a little bit surprised) in one hand like it's an accessory and twirling his keys in the other. He wears not one, but two thin beaded necklaces(it was a special occasion, after all), an olive crew neck sweater covered by a suede jacket, classic blue jeans and...converse?
"Look! We match," you blurt out, kicking out a foot to show off your identical black chucks while he beams at you. How you were able to put them on so quickly, you still don't know.
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah, let me just grab the chai from my fridge." You disappear from the door for a moment, carefully retrieving the large thermos full of homemade spiced black tea. You're just glad it turned out well; it was only your second time making it from scratch, and you even had to steal some cinnamon sticks from Joshua while you were making it yesterday.
"I've never had chai before," he admitted, pulling out bags of whole spices from his cabinet. "But I have cinnamon, star anise, cardamom-"
"The cinnamon will do, thanks," you stopped him from continuing, not wanting to hear him list spices you'd never even heard of before.
"How many sticks?"
"Two please."
As he fumbled with the Ziploc bags, your eyes drifted over to his spice cabinet, which was practically overflowing with identical glass bottles.
Squinting, you read the label of one of the well-used ones, half-filled with brown powder. Then confusion took over.
That's impossible. Joshua didn't have any nutmeg, that's why he came over yesterday-
"...and two," he finished, gently placing the second stick in your already open palm. "Let me know how it turns out!"
"Oh you'll be able to tell from the smell," you told him, before dashing out of his apartment and closing the door behind you.
Surely you were not overthinking this. He had every spice you knew of and then some. Why on earth would he keep coming to you for something he clearly didn't need?
You had thought about it all night and kept coming to the same conclusion, kicking and squealing under your comforter like a teenage girl. Even now a blush begins to form on your cheeks, so you quickly shake your head and head for the door, clearing your thoughts as if your brain was an Etch-A-Sketch.
Locking it behind you, you turn towards your "not" date.
"Shall we?"
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Joshua Hong keeps very attractive, but very loud company.
Okay. So maybe only two of them are loud.
The ones you learn to be Soonyoung and Seokmin appear to be the ringleaders of chaos, taking turns on an old karaoke machine and putting on a show for whoever wants to hear. Joshua tells you it would have been worse if their third friend was here; thankfully the neighbors were spared when he opted to see his cousins this year instead.
Then there was Jeonghan, the host of this soirée. Him and Joshua have been trying to find HDMI cables for the last fifteen minutes because Jeonghan "doesn't watch tv", but you swear you heard him complaining about the love arc between Derek and Grey during dinner. After a few minutes of secretly watching him half-assedly look through junk drawers, you have a theory that he just hid them, not wanting to show off his subpar gaming skills to the rest of the gang.
You flocked to familiar faces and stuck near Vernon and Wonwoo, playing blackjack at the kitchen island while they told you the most embarrassing stories from college; all of which included Joshua.
"And that was the last time we ever did tequila shots with him," Vernon says, reviewing his cards with a blank expression. These two have the best poker faces you've ever seen. "Hit me."
You flip over an eight of spades in front of him and he curses under his breath. "Damn, another bust."
You turn to Wonwoo, who was sliding his cards together in anticipation before tapping two fingers on the counter.
He gets a five of hearts. Suspiciously eyeing your king of diamonds, he tells you he'll stay.
The moment you both reveal your cards you start squealing, taking the stack of chips in the middle as you win yet another round.
"Hey Shua, I think your girl is rigging the deck," Vernon calls to him, and you giggle as Joshua crosses the room, folding his arms once he gets to the game.
"Are you?" He peers at your hand, inspecting the table like a police officer.
"Am I?" You bat your eyelashes and expertly slide a card between your hand and your sweater cuff, showing off the sleight of hand you learned from your dad when you were nine.
"You little cheater," Joshua gasps and pokes your side, and you scream, running away from the kitchen with him hot on your trail. Vernon and Wonwoo exchange a knowing look, collecting the cards and resetting the table for another match.
"We're baaaack!" The one you remember from dinner as Jun bursts into the apartment, followed by Minghao who's balancing four stacked tubs of ice cream in one hand. Jeonghan shrieks and rushes over, taking the freezing gifts into his arms so they don't fall over.
"Great, now we can finally play BS," Seokmin says, running over to the fridge excitedly.
"Isn't that the most boring card game-"
You watch as he pulls several bottles of soju out from the fridge.
"Not if you're playing it BSS style!"
After having it explained to you what the hell that even meant, everyone gathers around the dinner table, sitting in unofficial factions as you lean over and whisper to Joshua, "Is everything a drinking game with those two?"
Soonyoung helps his accomplice carry them to the table, bottles clinking loudly over everyone's voices.
"Yes. Their livers run on vibes and absolutely nothing else," he laughs, shuffling the card deck in his hands. "But if you don't want to drink, don't worry, no one's gonna get butthurt over it. Well, maybe Soonyoung will, but that's just because he takes everything personally the second alcohol enters his body."
"Okay! You all know the rules, you don't have to drink if you get caught, but if you call out someone who's telling the truth, take a shot," Seokmin announces, sliding bottles and shot glasses all around the table. Joshua catches the bottle for the two of you, opening it with one sharp twist of his wrist before setting it down and beginning to deal cards.
The game begins relatively tame, cards stacking up in the middle of the table and getting taken by unlucky liars with subpar poker faces.
Then all hell breaks loose when Soonyoung slaps three cards in the center, dramatically claiming that they're all aces.
"Okay but no one actually believes him, right?" Minghao laughs, taking off his pink cardigan and draping it over his chair.
"Call it! I dare you." Soonyoung sticks his tongue out at him, holding the rest of his hand to his tiger-striped Christmas sweater.
"I don't know guys, if he's telling the truth-"
"I am! You all should be worried about miss gambler over there," he protests, pointing his hand in your direction. Your mouth drops open, shocked at the unexpected, but understandable accusation.
"Hey! I haven't lied this whole round!" Wonwoo and Joshua squint at you, not buying any of your bull, and you cower behind your cards. "Well, I haven't gotten caught."
"If no one will do it then I will," Jeonghan speaks up, leaning over the table and shooting daggers with his eyes at the defendant. "BS."
"Jun, would you pour my friend a shot please," the taunter grins wickedly, flipping over three aces from the top of the card stack. Vernon and Seokmin lose it, rioting as Jun fills a shot glass to the brim and slides it to his senior.
The challenging doesn't slow down after that, shots being thrown back almost every two minutes as the group gets more competitive. You find yourself giving into the chaotic energy, calling out a few of the guys against your better judgment and having Joshua pour you a few shots himself. And even he slips up, calling a bluff over two kings you had put down that were in fact, kings. The table had collectively oohed as you didn't flip your cards over, instead pouring and sliding him a shot without breaking eye contact.
After a few more rounds and an impromptu intermission consisting of drunken Soonyoung and Seokmin lip syncing to Baby One More Time by Britney Spears, the doorbell rings and Jeonghan runs to get it.
"Cheol! You made it!"
"No thanks to you; I couldn't find these anywhere," The man at the door says, holding up a small orange box as he steps in and shakes off his jacket. "Why the hell do you need limited edition pumpkin pie flavored pocky-"
"Did someone say pocky?" Seokmin perks up, clumsily launching himself from the couch and nearly tripping over Minghao. "We should play the pepero game!"
"Dear lord, how much has he had to drink?"
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Somehow they had found a way to make this a drinking game too, deciding that the pair with the longest pocky stick left would have to take a shot. But, to raise the stakes, the pair with the second shortest stick would also have to take a shot, to prevent players from playing it safe.
And of course, the player holding the stick has to do so with their eyes closed, making this a game more about controlling your nerves than skill.
After watching Seokmin scream and shy away from Minghao, who was bold enough to hold his chin in place once he got close enough, two inches was the new record to beat as Jeonghan hands you and Joshua an orange coated stick.
"You got this," he reassures you, and you mime taking a drag from the thin biscuit, balancing it between your pointer and middle fingers.
"We'll smoke them. Piece of cake."
It is very much not a piece of cake, or pie, or any relatively round and triangularly sliced dessert, your brain yells at you, but you barely hear it over the sound of everyone cheering. You smile at your partner and place the stick between your teeth, folding your arms and closing your eyes.
He smiles warmly at you but you can't see it, and Seungcheol counts him off.
Slowly, he bends down, confidently snapping off the end of the pocky as his friends start badly chanting a song from a rom-com soundtrack. You try your best to hold still, clearly having underestimated how difficult it is to keep your eyes shut as your brain tries to estimate how close he is to your lips.
Unbeknownst to the both of you, Vernon nudges Soonyoung's side, subtly gesturing towards Joshua's knees.
Three seconds later the whole group is screaming, whoops and hollers flying around the room as Joshua stumbles, quickly regaining his and your balance with a protective arm around your waist.
And consequently, his lips on yours.
Your eyes fly open right as he steps back, glaring daggers at the two that were overcome with laughter and crying on the floor. Wonwoo stands nearby, bright red and hiding his smile behind his hand, and Seokmin repeatedly slaps a smug looking Minghao on his shoulders.
"Well?" Seungcheol nods at you, and in a daze you drop what was left of the pocky into your hand. He measures the stick from your palm.
"1.5 inches!"
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Ding!
"Your friends are really nice."
"If by nice you mean rowdy, ridiculous, rabid-"
"I meant that you guys feel like a family," you say, bumping against him playfully as you both exit the elevator. "You could have told me you were all brothers and I would have believed you."
"They might as well be," he chuckles, shaking his head to himself. But you can tell from the look in his eyes that he really cares about them, grateful to have a found family in this city of strangers.
"Hey, I'm sorry about what happened earlier," he says after a beat of silence, turning to look at you as you both near your doors.
"What- about the pocky game?" Please, please don't say you're sorry for the kiss. If we're calling it that. You didn't even win; Jun's boldness paired with Jeonhan's indifference proved to be a hard duo to beat. You feel yourself getting warm again as you avoid eye contact, hugging your nearly empty thermos to your chest.
"Yeah, I totally lost my balance back there," he reasons, not wanting to reveal that he'd been sabotaged by one of his traitor friends. "That is not how I imagined that going."
Imagined what? The game?
"Don't worry about it," you brush it off casually, unlocking your door with a newfound sense of urgency in an attempt to hide your flaming cheeks. "Thanks for tonight; I'll see you later Josh."
Behind the safety of your door, you press yourself against the cool surface, trying to slow your erratic heartbeat as you twist your necklace into coils, trying to interpret what he meant.
Feeling your adrenaline catch up to you, you set your thermos on the kitchen counter and then rip your sweater off over your head, chucking it at your couch as you point an accusatory finger at it.
"Whatever happened to red is bold?" You whine, running a frustrated hand through your hair. "You were supposed to help me ask him out tonight-"
You're interrupted by the doorbell, loud and annoying at this time of night.
That's strange. Only people who don't know any better use the doorbell- all of your friends are aware of how much you hate its chime.
Glancing at the clock and deducing that it is past midnight, you're suddenly glad that you kept your hello kitty baseball bat right behind the door, just in case the lack of peep holes lead to your untimely doom.
Cautiously, you unlock the door and open it slowly.
"Oh," you heave a sigh of relief and swing the door open upon seeing Joshua standing there, an unreadable expression on his flushed face. His apartment door is wide open, suede jacket hanging on the doorknob. "It's just you; why did you use the doorbe-"
You don't get to finish your sentence, cut off by Joshua's warm hands cupping your face, and him subsequently bending down to meet your lips with his own.
The shock and sheer speed of how fast he pulled you in shuts your brain off, so your body takes over and you reciprocate in earnest, hands sliding upwards to wrap around his neck as he deepens the kiss. He follows suit, pulling you flush against him as his hands find the exposed skin of your back, scorching you with his touch.
His lips are soft, so soft, and you can feel the weeks of tension finally melting away at this sweet release, dizzying you from the intensity of the kiss alone. Your lungs start to ache for oxygen but your fingers have a different agenda, tangling themselves in his silky hair like you've wanted to do for so long, and feeling the shiver as it runs up his spine.
You're suddenly glad that you took off your sweater, relishing the feeling of his hands on your bare skin before he settles on holding your waist, holding you tighter with each passing second. When he pulls away slightly, the breath you take in is more of a shudder, but you don't have it in you to be embarrassed when he leans back in, leaving one last lingering press against your lips before pulling away fully.
You stare at each other in shock, both of you panting in silence for a few seconds before he finally speaks up.
"I..." he pauses, choosing his words carefully as his brown eyes never leave your wide ones, "I had imagined something more like that."
Before you can respond or even process what he said, he turns and retreats into his own apartment, not looking back before grabbing his jacket and clicking the door shut.
Unable to move or speak or even think about anything other than what just happened, you stand in your doorframe, a hand pressed flat against your lips as the ghost of his kiss still lingers on them.
When you finally walk back into your apartment, your red sweater seems to glare at you from across the room, mocking you for ever doubting its abilities.
"I don't wanna hear it," you nearly squeal, raising a hand towards the discarded clothing item before running off to your bedroom, cell phone already out and dialing Karina's number.