By Zephyria The two sat facing each other at the round kitchen table, not the island counter. They placed the pot in the center of the table and served generous portions of fried rice into two large bowls.
There’s a saying that men become closer after going to the bathhouse together or spending a night together. Song Hyun-soo wanted to add one more thing. He believed that men and women alike become closer after eating kimchi fried rice, each with two fried eggs on top, holding a spoon, and chatting.
“Those annoying sasaengs! I know them all too well from living with the idol group ‘Layered’.”
Song Hyun-soo shuddered, recalling the sasaeng fans who were always camped out in front of the dorm when he lived with Choi Hong-seo’s group, ‘Layered’.
“They’d chatter all day in the alley, making the neighbors glare at us, and they’d draw graffiti all over the walls, so the landlord demanded more rent. They’d even take pictures when I went out in my slippers to throw away trash. They’d take pictures of me, even though they were ‘Layered’ fans, and then giggle amongst themselves. Ji-in hyung and I went through so much trouble.”
After his passionate speech, Song Hyun-soo took another spoonful of fried rice and glanced at Yoon Joo-ho.
“Ji-in hyung doesn’t complain about things like that, does he?”
“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him.”
“Right? Hyung is like that. I always grumbled…”
Every time he had a confrontation with the sasaeng fans, Song Hyun-soo would lash out at the ‘Layered’ members. He’d tell them to take all those sasaengs and leave the dorm quickly. He’d even taken his frustrations out on Choi Hong-seo a few times. Now, those memories only brought regret.
“If hyung hadn’t been there, we probably would have fought and broken up within a year of living together. Hyung was always like a mediator.”
Yoon Joo-ho’s spoon, which had been moving quite diligently, slowed down. He leaned back against the chair, resting his upper body, and gazed at Song Hyun-soo. The spoon he held, twitching slightly, and his tightly closed lips indicated some dissatisfaction.
Song Hyun-soo, who was also piling fried rice onto his spoon, sensed the gaze.
“What is it?”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“Do you like Jung Ji-in or something?”
What else could it be?
“I don’t think anyone could dislike hyung after actually knowing him.”
Song Hyun-soo, speaking with the certainty of a fundamental truth, like the sun being the only star in the sky and dawn breaking after enduring the night, shoved the spoon piled high with fried rice into his mouth.
Yoon Joo-ho, on the other hand, snorted and put his spoon down.
“That’s some serious confidence.”
After swallowing the fried rice that had filled his mouth with just a few chews, Song Hyun-soo picked up the bottle of water next to him.
“It’s not a boast, but there aren’t many people I like. Hyung is one of those few.”
“What do you like so much about him?”
“You’re close with hyung, so you must know. What kind of person hyung is.”
“…”
Yoon Joo-ho neither confirmed nor denied. He watched Song Hyun-soo, who was gulping down water, and then, with a slightly annoying expression, shrugged his shoulders and picked up his spoon again.
“Well. I don’t recall him ever treating me with such effusive praise as you do.”
“Hyung? As if.”
Yoon Joo-ho paused with his spoon raised and put it back down in the bowl. He tilted his head and licked his lips with his tongue. His long legs nudged Song Hyun-soo’s calf under the table.
“You said you were Yoon Gyeol-ho. Bullshit. You’re ‘Hold Still’, aren’t you?”
‘Hold Still’ was the name of Jung Ji-in’s fan cafe. Song Hyun-soo, putting down the water he was drinking, began a fierce battle with Yoon Joo-ho’s legs.
“I never said I was Yoon Gyeol-ho! You just assumed that yourself.”
Their four legs bumped and tangled like children sword-fighting. Then, for a moment, Yoon Joo-ho stretched his legs further and firmly trapped Song Hyun-soo’s calves between his own two calves.
“You’re ‘Hold Still’. Definitely.”
Then he retracted his legs and picked up his spoon again. Watching Yoon Joo-ho’s neat face, focused on finishing the remaining fried rice, Song Hyun-soo was suddenly struck by a playful impulse.
“Are you perhaps jealous, hyung? That I might like Ji-in hyung more than you?”
Yoon Joo-ho glared fiercely and growled.
“Who? What are you doing?”
“No, sir. My words slipped. Let’s eat, hyung.”
Quickly dropping the smile, Song Hyun-soo sat up straight and leaned back.
His eyes are long and deep, so when he looks up like that, he’s really a bit scary. But the way he chews and swallows the food I made is beautiful.
Maybe it’s because his lips are pretty. He eats so prettily with those pretty lips. Unlike me, who shovels large amounts onto my spoon, he takes just enough to fit into his mouth and chews slowly with his lips pursed. From someone like me, it looks elegant. Of course, once those lips start talking, elegance goes out the window.
He eats so well, he’s so beautiful. A miracle happens where his already beautiful face becomes even more beautiful. Should I buy ingredients next time and try making Mille-feuille Nabe? I wish I knew more than a few dishes.
As he picked up his spoon to finish the last few bites, Song Hyun-soo nodded with a satisfied expression.
“See?”
“See what?”
“Eating warm, home-cooked rice made you less anxious and improved your mood, right?”
Yoon Joo-ho, with only one spoonful left, stared at Song Hyun-soo silently for a moment.
Maybe it’s because he’s an actor. Sometimes his gaze felt like more than just a look; it felt like a line of dialogue. A silent dialogue that required deep deciphering of hidden meanings. Like now. However, for Song Hyun-soo, deciphering the complex and seemingly cryptic message wasn’t easy.
Yoon Joo-ho picked up his spoon again, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “It doesn’t feel like it’s just because of the rice.”
“I admit it’s delicious. I ate all the portion you gave me.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t delicious. It’s fine if you didn’t understand.”
He could have just said it was delicious. What’s with ‘It’s fine if you didn’t understand’? I need to get a DNA test to see if he’s not the son of ‘Honey’s Place’ auntie.
Debating whether to eat the little bit of rice left in the pot, Yoon Joo-ho, who had emptied his bowl, stood up.
“Can I eat the rest?”
“Go ahead.”
He wiped his lips with a tissue and disappeared somewhere. Then he reappeared with a shopping bag.
The logo, printed small in the center of the white shopping bag. It was an Italian luxury outdoor brand that Song Hyun-soo was very familiar with. He must have gone shopping for ‘a moment’ again. Thinking nothing of it, he was about to finish the remaining fried rice when, suddenly, Yoon Joo-ho held out the shopping bag to Song Hyun-soo.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Take it.”
He held the shopping bag out in front of him one more time, and Song Hyun-soo accepted it absentmindedly. As he walked towards the refrigerator, Yoon Joo-ho said, “Consider it a Christmas present. You only got one last time. I’m not the type to be indebted.”
“This… this is for me?”
Judging by the size of the shopping bag and its weight on his lap, it was definitely not a t-shirt or a hat.
Taking a can of beer from the refrigerator, Yoon Joo-ho gestured with his eyes to ask if Song Hyun-soo wanted one too. Song Hyun-soo shook his head.
“I bought it to wear myself. I didn’t even open it because I didn’t like the color.”
What emerged from the white cover bag inside the shopping bag was a fresh, orange-colored padding jumper. The down padding, filled with a moderate amount of air, looked as fluffy and cozy as cumulus clouds.
After being momentarily captivated by the jumper’s dazzling appearance, Song Hyun-soo quickly checked the size. As expected…
This isn’t your size, if you bought it to wear yourself, sunbae.
Song Hyun-soo wasn’t short or petite, but he wasn’t the kind of person who could wear the same size clothes as Yoon Joo-ho. Ha, this grade-A tsundere. Yes, I understand. Let’s just say you picked it up off the street.
“But for a 20,000 won gift, to receive something worth 2 million won… even I feel a bit…”
Yoon Joo-ho said, returning to the dining table and sitting in the chair to Song Hyun-soo’s left.
“It’s not 2 million won.”
“It’s more expensive??”
If that were the case, he felt even less able to accept it.
He had once received a luxury brand suit as a gift from Jung Ji-in. But the situation was very different from now. Back then, it was clothes gifted to Jung Ji-in by the brand, not something Jung Ji-in had bought with his own money, and as Jung Ji-in had told Song Hyun-soo, it was far from his taste, even to Song Hyun-soo’s eyes.
At the very least, if it were someone as close as Ji-in hyung. He didn’t think he was yet close enough to Yoon Joo-ho to receive a jumper worth millions of won as a gift. They weren’t even lovers.
But Yoon Joo-ho was firm.
“Take it. I’m giving it to you as a bribe, too.”
“A bribe for what? You have no reason to curry favor with me.”
I don’t have more experience, more popularity, or more money, so I can’t get Yoon Joo-ho cast in a project. I can’t introduce him to famous PDs or directors. The most I can do is kimchi fried rice, and the only person I can introduce is Jung-ho. Should I introduce Jung-ho?
“A reason has arisen.”
“What is it?”
What does he want me to do, giving me a padding worth over 2 million won? Could it be…
Song Hyun-soo, without realizing it, thrust the jumper into Yoon Joo-ho’s chest.
“I, I don’t do crimes.”
Yoon Joo-ho, who had been drinking beer, looked at him with an incredulous expression and clicked his tongue. Then, he tossed the jumper, held against his chest, back to Song Hyun-soo.
“I’m planning to run a cocktail bar as an event at your birthday party next week, and I need someone to manage it.”
At the mention of a cocktail bar, Song Hyun-soo straightened his posture.
“Not just ordinary cocktails. Someone who can create custom cocktails based on the guest’s image or requests.”
“……”
“Are you interested?”
“I’d love to do it.”
“Good.”
“But if it were you, sunbae, you could hire expensive, famous bartenders. Why me?”
Yoon Joo-ho tilted his head sideways, tracing the surface of the beer can he’d placed on the table with his fingertip.
“Well. Why do you think it’s you?”
And then, from under the table, he touched Song Hyun-soo’s calf again. In a slightly different way than before. Rubbing the inside of his calf against the inside of his own.
“You guess. I don’t know.”
Even though he was using language as material to produce sound, it still felt like a meaningless cipher.
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