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The mall is overstimulating even on good days and currently, it’s a Friday afternoon—groups of teens are giggling as they apply the expensive lip oil testers and a few isles over, there’s a baby crying, its mom begging for it to calm down in hushed pleas. Jongseob kind of wishes he hadn’t come.
He isn’t even sure why he’s here. It’s been a recurring thing, this feeling of not fully belonging, but he guesses that’s part of the deal when you enter a friend group as a plus-one and never get kicked out. So far, that is. Jongseob is, above all things, a realist.
Wonbin, who Jongseob knows through Anton, has his birthday coming up in about two weeks. (He knows everyone through Anton. People like Anton. Jongseob is just lucky enough that Anton likes him enough to keep him around.)
“No, he only uses Peach & Lily. Put that down.”
The genuine sadness on Intak’s face at Seunghan’s words almost makes Jongseob laugh out loud. They’re at Olive Young and there’s some idol band blaring through the speakers. Jongseob’s mainly clinging to Anton, who’s testing different perfumes, the mixture of them burning in Jongseob’s nose.
He doesn’t complain.
“But—”
“Intak. Just accept you’re only here because we found out you’re a trust fund baby. You’re bad at this.”
Intak puts down the jar of moisturizer he’d picked up, almost dropping it in the process. Right when Jongseob feels his own lip curl into a smile, their eyes meet and he hurriedly looks down, trying to make himself look busy.
Violently awkward—that’s how he feels around most of Anton’s friends. He never knows what to say. He knows Anton through school, having gotten wrapped up in a stilted conversation after running into each other at their university’s recording studio. He knew of Anton already, had seen him on the school’s website, credited for some work he did on a local artist’s indie album.
It was fine. Jongseob told him as much. Anton hesitantly asked him if he wanted to exchange KakaoTalk IDs and after the first, mutual-insomnia-instigated meme exchange, Anton seemed comfortable enough to ask him to hang out sometime.
“Why do you think Wonbin-hyung will care that much…” Intak pouts, opening a tube of ANUA rice toner, taking a deep whiff. He frowns. “I just, like, wanted to make him a mix… maybe get him some new FootUndeez. Dunno. God knows he could use ‘em, though.”
Seunghan snorts, apparently acknowledging some truth in Intak’s words, while Anton and Jongseob exchange a confused look.
When he catches Jongseob’s eyes again, Intak smirks. “Dance thing. Like panties for your feet. Wonbin’s are rank, so.” He says it with so much pride that Jongseob feels his face flush. Or maybe it’s just the eye contact with someone he doesn’t know very well, whose moods and facial expressions he can’t categorize yet. Or maybe—
“Ew.” Anton hits the nail on the head. “Like… his feet or the …panties?
Jongseob decides he needs to get out of the cloud of different perfumes clogging his senses immediately. He slips into the next aisle. More skin care. He should get something to help with unnecessary blushing. Or a new cleanser. He eats too much junk food, his pores are all clogged. He listens to Seunghan assure Anton that Wonbin’s feet are your regular, appropriately-disgusting feet and that the panties are the problem. Whatever that means.
He doesn’t realize someone has followed him until he looks to his right and finds Intak leaning against a shelf stacked with Beauty of Joseon products. He’s looking at him, the corner of his mouth twitching upward expectantly. His eyes are so big and inquiring. Jongseob doesn’t know what he’s more scared of—looking beyond those eyes or seeing his own reflection within their depth and knowing what it is Intak thinks of him.
Scared isn’t the right word. He isn’t scared of Intak. Terrified, maybe, sure. Deeply frightened, even.
“What?” he asks with a bit more bite than intended. Intak’s grin widens and he shrugs, leaning forward to flick against Jongseob’s hoop earring.
“Nothing, man. I’m bored. Seunghan keeps shooting down all my ideas.”
Jongseob doesn’t think any of Intak’s gift ideas were that bad. At least he’s trying, not just following around Anton like a complete idiot. He doesn’t say that, though. He doesn’t say anything, only goes back to flicking through sheet masks that’d only end up in his fridge, never to be used. He doesn’t like the slimy sensation on his skin.
Neither of them speak for a moment. The noises in this mall are endless: now it’s western bedroom pop, two girls discussing which peel-off tint is the one they saw online, Seunghan listing off the things they still need to get. At least the baby stopped crying.
Jongseob should get something to help with bleach-damaged hair. He doesn’t know how many touch-ups he has left in him. His scalp is a mess.
“What’re you doing later?”
Jongseob has to force himself to look back up at Intak’s face. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, glancing up from his phone that Jongseob hadn’t realized he’d gotten out.
He needs to finish an English assignment and send it in before 7pm. Call his mom. Play Red Dead Redemption 2 until his eyes hurt. None of this seems cool enough to share, so he simply opts for not responding once more.
“You don’t talk much, huh?” Intak doesn’t seem fazed or upset in the slightest. “You wanna get a smoothie? On me?”
Before he can stop himself, Jongseob nods. Intak beams.
He lets himself get dragged away in somewhat of a daze. Seunghan half-heartedly complains about being left alone but they all know that it ultimately won’t really change anything for their progress. Anton asks them to get him a jelly donut. Intak says no fuck you but Anton laughs, so Jongseob guesses they’ll be getting him one regardless.
Upon leaving the store, it isn’t much better noise-wise, but at least the pungent scent of beauty products and colognes lessens. Jongseob looks around—there’s a bookstore right across from Olive Young, along with a bunch of clothing stores and a video game one, that he’d been eyeing since they came here a little over an hour ago.
“Malls can get a lot,” Intak says and Jongseob’s head shoots around to him. He seems to be searching for something, too. A food stand, Jongseob connects.
“Uh, yeah.” He doesn’t know what it is about Intak that makes Jongseob sound and act like more of an idiot that he does around other people. It’s like he’s the catalyst for all of Jongseob’s loserisms.
Intak checks a map of the mall on his phone—then tells him they should go to the salad bar on the basement floor.
The ride down the escalator is beyond uncomfortable. Jongseob is sweaty even though he left his jacket in the backseat of Seunghan’s car, only wearing a simple black hoodie, the trackpants he’d been running around in all day, switched for a pair of baggy jeans he found on his Shota’s bedroom floor.
To Intak, it seems that summer’s already begun—he has a pair of sunglasses pushed up in his black hair, which would’ve made sense if he had been the one driving. Instead, Anton informed him that he’s the only one out of them who doesn’t have his license. Perpetual passenger princess. Jongseob didn’t feel the need to tell him that he, too, doesn’t have his yet.
Furthermore, he’s wearing a t-shirt that leaves very little to the imagination. Jongseob finds himself staring holes into the backs of strangers’ heads in an attempt to avoid looking at Intak’s well-formed chest. He doesn’t get working out for him personally but. Yeah. Whatever.
“There we are,” speaks Intak, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of some passers-by. Jongseob is embarrassed until he spots the salad bar and a huge sign with different smoothie combinations, each of them sounding more delicious than the other.
He gasps and shares a quick, excited glance with Intak—the brightness of his eyes sends a trickle down Jongseob’s spine. He tries to focus on figuring out what to get instead of thinking about that feeling, that short zap! of something he can’t fully name yet.
Intak reaches into his back pocket to get out his wallet. He smells masculine, of pine and 3-in-1 shampoo. These smoothies have such silly names. Jongseob feels mildly anxious about muttering the words Raspberry Kiss around Intak. Maybe he should go with Banana Fantasia. Or Moody Mintcho. He’ll definitely avoid any proclamation of fruity love.
The girl behind the counter looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. Jongseob sympathizes with her, so he intently listens to her greeting them and introducing today’s specials, finding not one crack on her blank expression.
He sees Intak vigorously nod along to every single thing she says from the corner of his eye. More pine and 3-in-1 wafts over to him. Jongseob feels dizzy.
“Ummm, I’ll take a large Strawberry Cutie. Do you sell jelly donuts?”
The girl blinks at him, then gestures at the heaps of freshly cut vegetables behind the glass cover Intak’s so rudely leaning up against. He goes Oh! and laughs and Jongseob can’t quite believe him, but he feels okay about ordering a Raspberry Kiss now.
After also acquiring a jelly donut and an iced coffee for Seunghan, Intak receives a text from the aforementioned, telling him that they’ve headed into one of the clothing stores on the upper floors, as Wonbin’s been into fashion lately and they thought they’d might find something for him there.
While Intak groans at the thought, Jongseob actually finds himself feeling a bit better after the first couple sips of his smoothie.
“C’mon,” he tells Intak, whose eyes, Jongseob has begun to realize, have a strong resemblance to boba pearls, find him instantaneously. “Maybe you’ll find a cute top or something. Whatever.”
Intak almost chokes on his drink, covering his mouth as he coughs, harsh and abrupt. While Jongseob scrambles for a tissue, rummaging through his tote while giving it his all not to spill his drink, Intak manages to calm down by himself.
“Yeah,” he begins, his voice hoarse and eyes watery, “maybe. Whatever.”
They find Anton and Seunghan like nothing—Anton is in the process of holding up a graphic tee with Gorillaz on it, an unsure expression on his face. He lights up when he spots Jongseob and even more when Intak holds up the paper bag containing his donut.
“Name three of their songs,” Intak says with a chuckle. None of them react, aside from Anton’s frustrated sigh.
“This is harder than anticipated. Wonbin-hyung’s, like, impossible to shop for,” Seunghan says, although, judging from Anton’s look, Wonbin really isn’t the person making this impossible.
Jongseob wonders if there’s more to it or if Seunghan’s just kind of a control freak, unrelated to the soon-to-be birthday boy.
This store is nicer—for one, it’s emptier and the music more bearable, the bright lights from the drugstore replaced by comfortable lightning and the countless bottles, tubes and flasks exchanged for clothes in dark, muted colors, the gentle gradient quite nice to look at.
Jongseob begins looking through a row of shirts—he wants to switch up his wardrobe a little. Being around cool college kids, all with their own unique sense of style, has influenced him a little.
He keeps sipping on his smoothie. He feels kind of bad for letting Intak pay for him, when he’d been perfectly fine to do so himself. Now, it’s just like he has to pay him back somehow.
“Hyung, can we please just get him a book or something?” Anton whines and Jongseob looks up to see his tall frame leaning against one of the pillars that have a mirror on two sides and posters advertising local brands on the other two.
Anton looks exhausted, his hair ruffled from running his hand through it too much and his cheeks hot from the temperatures in here. Jongseob has half a mind to offer him his smoothie, when Intak appears in front of him.
“What do you think of this?” He holds up the same shirt that Anton had shown them mere moments ago. Jongseob frowns.
“I don’t even know if Wonbin-hyung likes Gorillaz…”
Intak rolls his eyes and holds the tee right up to his torso. “No, man. Fuck that guy! I pay for his lunch three days a week. Like, for me, I mean.”
He seems surprised when a giggle bubbles out of Jongseob. He laughs and chews on his straw, then considers the shirt for a couple secons. Shrugs.
“Yeah, I mean, why not? It’s cool.” Intak doesn’t look content with his half-hearted response. Jongseob glances over to Anton, who looks about two seconds from dropping his head in his hands. He should do something.
“Can you hold my stuff while I go try it on?” Intak tilts his entire body to the side to cut off Jongseob’s view to the other two boys. He tries listening for a quiver in Anton’s voice but—pine and 3-in-1 overrule all of his senses.
Whatever. This is fine. Intak has gone from absolutely horrifying vaguely intimidating to an overgrown puppy in constant need of attention in the span of half an hour and Jongseob, while still completely unsure how to act around him, actually finds it kind of nice.
He opens his arms for Intak’s things, which are just one of those chest fanny packs and his cup. Intak gives him a look.
“What are you doing?
Jongseob uhhhs and notices the store lights reflecting in Intak’s sunglasses.
“Dude, you gotta like. You gotta come with! Tell me if it looks cute... and stuff.”
Even Intak doesn’t seem to fully believe his own words, but he takes his index finger and lets one of Jongseob’s white-blonde, curling-ironed locks wrap around it, stepping closer in the process.
And—well. Jongseob thinks he probably just heard Anton laugh. The donut must’ve totally done its magic. Whatever. This is fine.
The changing rooms are at the back of the store, which is where Jongseob lets Intak lead him, walking most of the way backwards to make sure Jongseob isn’t quietly leaving. Or maybe to—
Or maybe to look at him. Who knows. Jongseob’s chest feels funny. Intak mouths along to the mellow RnB-song playing and whenever the singer says something unequivocally horny, he points at Jongseob as if to shout him out.
“Hold this…and this…”
Jongseob sits down on the fuzzy futon placed against the walls across from the changing rooms and takes all of Intak’s belongings in his lap. As a thanks, he receives a head pat.
He checks his phone once Intak disappears behind the curtain. It’s almost 4pm.
This store is so nice. The walls are sprayed with graffiti art that isn’t too harsh on the eyes, some space motifs tastefully warped together with cartoonish characters dressed in outfits similar to the style that fits most of the clothing sold here. Jongseob has never been really artistic in the classic sense but he really likes the design and the color combinations chosen for the artwork.
Intak’s head pops out of the side of the curtain, holding the rest of it up as if to protect his body from nosy onlookers. Jongseob can clearly see the collar of the shirt around his neck.
“Can you come look?”
He sets down Intak’s things on the futon, leaving them there with his tote bag and mostly empty cup. Pushing his sleeves up, he walks over, going to touch the deep blue fabric of the velveteen curtains, wanting to push it aside further, when Intak’s head disappears.
“Hyung? Can I see, or…?”
“Just get in, man. I don’t know what to think, I hoped it’d be smaller and, like... tighter.”
Jongseob doesn’t groan but it’s a near thing. Intak thinks he’s being so subtle. He isn’t sure why this keeps working on him.
He slips into the changing room and the curtain isn’t even fully closed when Intak is already grinning down at him, too close for it to be misinterpreted.
“Hi,” he whispers and his breath smells of Strawberry Cutie. Jongseob giggles and lets himself be pushed up against the mirror-free wall of the stall, eyes flitting between Intak’s lips and the shirt, that, actually, is comically large on him.
“Hi,” he whispers back. Intak rubs their noses together.
“I totally dig you. In case that wasn’t clear.”
Jongseob steps on his tip-toes and catches his lips in a kiss. He’d say it’s pretty evident that he digs Intak, too. He isn’t sure what comes after this—good thing it doesn’t really matter right now.