Kyungjong knows when he first meets Hajin—introduced to him by Jihyuk, who knows him through Byunghee, or maybe it's the other way around—Kyungjong knows that he's not Hajin's type. Hajin is tall and gangly and handsome in a puppyish way, all long limbs and curly hair and the kind of easy, unassuming grin that girls fall for hard and fast. And, most importantly, Hajin likes girls.
Hajin likes girls a lot, actually. Kyungjong learns that quickly. Hajin likes tiny girls with delicate hands and long hair, pouty lips and dark eyelashes and legs that look longer than they are. He likes the curves of girls' waists and the shadows of their cleavage, when their shirts slip down and they don't notice. Hajin is a connoisseur of girls, an appreciator of the female form, and Kyungjong knows he will never be Hajin's type.
"Want to know something?" Hajin asks one night, when he's drunk and covered in lipstick marks, sitting in the bathroom while Kyungjong wets a cloth to put on Hajin's forehead.
"What?"
"If you were a girl," Hajin begins, and Kyungjong knows, with a sick sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, exactly where this is going, "I would totally date you. You'd be my ideal type!"
"The hell are you talking about, man?" Kyungjong demands, his voice too loud to cover up the sudden thickness in the back of his throat. Hajin is too drunk to notice, anyway. Not that he needs alcohol to be oblivious—he's pretty good at that on his own. "Put this on your face."
Kyungjong is tiny, sure and he has delicate hands, and sometimes he pouts more than he means to. But he's a boy, definitely. Delicate hands attached to strong wrists and forearms and biceps, and his waist will never curve like a girl's does, and Kyungjong will never catch Hajin's attention in a cloud of perfume and sultry murmurs and long hair.
He doesn't want to be all that, honestly. Kyungjong just wishes that who he is could be enough.
From the moment that they meet, Kyungjong knows that he'll never be Hajin's type, but he doesn't really know it until the birthday that Hajin forgets. Forgets because of a girl, honestly, like there wasn't enough salt that Hajin pours in the wound on a normal day—and Kyungjong wants it to be okay. He really wishes he could be okay with it, just laugh because Hajin is so predictable and move on. But he can't, and it's not okay, because even if Kyungjong knows he will never be Hajin's type, he at least thought (hoped) that he would be more important than the nameless, faceless girls that Hajin runs through ten a week.
But even in that, it seems like Kyungjong was wrong.
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Kyungjong knows when he first meets Hajin—introduced to him by Jihyuk, who knows him through Byunghee, or maybe it's the other way around—Kyungjong knows that he's not Hajin's type. Hajin is tall and gangly and handsome in a puppyish way, all long limbs and curly hair and the kind of easy, unassuming grin that girls fall for hard and fast. And, most importantly, Hajin likes girls.
Hajin likes girls a lot, actually. Kyungjong learns that quickly. Hajin likes tiny girls with delicate hands and long hair, pouty lips and dark eyelashes and legs that look longer than they are. He likes the curves of girls' waists and the shadows of their cleavage, when their shirts slip down and they don't notice. Hajin is a connoisseur of girls, an appreciator of the female form, and Kyungjong knows he will never be Hajin's type.
"Want to know something?" Hajin asks one night, when he's drunk and covered in lipstick marks, sitting in the bathroom while Kyungjong wets a cloth to put on Hajin's forehead.
"What?"
"If you were a girl," Hajin begins, and Kyungjong knows, with a sick sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, exactly where this is going, "I would totally date you. You'd be my ideal type!"
"The hell are you talking about, man?" Kyungjong demands, his voice too loud to cover up the sudden thickness in the back of his throat. Hajin is too drunk to notice, anyway. Not that he needs alcohol to be oblivious—he's pretty good at that on his own. "Put this on your face."
Kyungjong is tiny, sure and he has delicate hands, and sometimes he pouts more than he means to. But he's a boy, definitely. Delicate hands attached to strong wrists and forearms and biceps, and his waist will never curve like a girl's does, and Kyungjong will never catch Hajin's attention in a cloud of perfume and sultry murmurs and long hair.
He doesn't want to be all that, honestly. Kyungjong just wishes that who he is could be enough.
From the moment that they meet, Kyungjong knows that he'll never be Hajin's type, but he doesn't really know it until the birthday that Hajin forgets. Forgets because of a girl, honestly, like there wasn't enough salt that Hajin pours in the wound on a normal day—and Kyungjong wants it to be okay. He really wishes he could be okay with it, just laugh because Hajin is so predictable and move on. But he can't, and it's not okay, because even if Kyungjong knows he will never be Hajin's type, he at least thought (hoped) that he would be more important than the nameless, faceless girls that Hajin runs through ten a week.
But even in that, it seems like Kyungjong was wrong.