He knew he went overboard the moment he sat on the chair. Waiters circled his table several times a minute; it was making him restless. He thought the water jug wouldn’t last until his date arrived. The other wasn’t late, on the contrary. He came earlier, like always, just to make sure they hadn’t gotten his name wrong or that no one would take his reservation. It happened last time, at another place he hadn’t visited again. At least, his date had the courtesy not to show up that evening. It spared him of further embarrassment.

He loosened his tie and drank another glass of water. He didn’t care what his friend said, he had no desire to look perfect when he knew the outcome would be the same: they talk, date gets bored, then they leave in awkward silence. No second dates or calls. So when his colleague, Chanyeol, approached him with a number and told him to give it a shot, because he was ‘the brother of a guy he knows’, Jongin thought he had enough in his life. Yet, something made him dial the other and there he was, stuck in the fancy restaurant, waiting.

Jongin picked the most ridiculously sounding restaurant off a list on the internet. It turned out costly, but he didn’t care anymore. He wanted to see if expensive food really tasted different or if his business associate had an odd palate when he’d boast about his food saga within the city. Even if the date ended up abandoning him like they all had (Jongin bet on it, thus the sudden bold move), he could still enjoy his foie gras or whatever else had a name he couldn’t pronounce without a couple of tries.

Jongin subtly sniffed his armpit. His hair was a mess, his suit slightly wrinkled, but at least he smelled nice. He tugged on his tie more until it almost fell from his neck. Maybe his friend was right, he should have put more effort into his image. He had in the past, really, always top-notch and approved by several people before he’d head out, but the results hadn’t changed based on looks alone. Jongin lacked the charisma necessary to ‘hook up’, as the same colleague – much younger colleague – put it.

It always struck him as crazy. When in a meeting with some company president or other interested parties, Jongin always took the front stage. Anyone would think that he’d carry on that superstar allure to the next level when up close and personal. Instead, once outside Jongin’s comfortable world of numbers and deals, he stuttered, fixed his glasses for too long – he can’t see without them, he’d usually wear contacts at meetings – or fumbled with the things around him. One date, that never called back, had the honor of seeing Jongin doing acrobatics with his chopsticks and successfully dropping them several times on the floor. Jongin had never called the waiter as often as that evening. He was awake for the entire night after, rewinding everything and calling himself stupid whenever his mind stopped on a particularly humiliating situation among the many threading the dinner’s events.

That moment too he suddenly felt hot from remembering every single dumb thing he had done or said through these various blind dates. For a second there, he hoped it’d be different for once, but he knew he was asking for too much from God.

Jongin poured himself another glass of water and drank it. Heck, he might end up peeing his pants at the rate he was emptying the jug. At least it would make a great story. He shouldn’t have come thirty minutes earlier. He should have helped some more at work before hurrying to the car. Why had he been suddenly so excited when there was nothing to look forward to other than misery? His head fell back. Funnily enough, despite the velvety red table sheets, the golden filigree on the napkins and the hardcover menu, the restaurant’s ceiling was plain and had nothing fascinating. The chandeliers were simple and their only role was that of lighting up the place.

He shouldn’t have listened to Chanyeol. He should have gone straight home and play with his two pups than join the charade of dating. Jongin fixed his position on the chair and slapped his cheek lightly.

‘Alright,’ he thought. He could do it. He’d snap out of whatever took control over his mind. He’d stop whining and generally try to be a pleasant person to hang with, not because he had to impress someone. He had friends, truly… sort of. He wasn’t that bad of an individual. ‘Have some faith in yourself, Kim Jongin.’

By coincidence, his eyes landed on someone. He had seen that kind of scene in movies. The protagonist blocks his senses on a single spot. His look, scent and hearing are solely concentrated on what would become their other half. Usually, it’d be because they were too love-struck or at awe with the appearance of their soulmate. Jongin didn’t know if it had been because of his sudden emotional outburst a few seconds before that his cheeks erupted in heat, traversed the veins along his arms and down his back, until it reached the end of his fingertips and toes. All because that someone was walking to his table, grey coat on his arm, while untying a three-colors scarf from his neck. Numbed, Jongin hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone. A waiter politely pointed in his direction and in the following split of a second, Jongin realized it was his date.

“Hi!”

The other had greeted five steps from the table, his voice a kiss on his heart. Long hair fell on his shoulders, a couple of locks braided here and there with white beads holding them together.

Jongin had met many good-looking people. For some reason, the more attractive they were, they faster they flocked around him. Yet, whenever Jongin’s hope soared high, they made sure to root him back on the ground by opening their mouth. He learned his lesson. Jongin frowned, not enough for the other to see, but enough for Jongin to feel his thoughts slipping between the wrinkles above his eyebrows in annoyance. He prayed that Chanyeol knew what he was doing and that he hadn’t picked the man with the long hair randomly out of a list like Jongin had done with the restaurant.

“Hello,” Jongin replied. He stood up, ready to shake his hand or something. Instead, his fingers curled back fast in his palm. The man had already put his coat on the one of the two extra chairs at the table. The scarf followed. Fingers uncurled again, only to wipe his hand on his pants. Jongin was sweating too much for a simple date. He could fake it; pretend he’d be the coolest partner one could have, if only he could control the rest of his body. He was trembling, so when the man merely bowed and took his seat, Jongin followed suit before his nervousness became obvious.

They glanced at each other. Jongin’s eyes swept the other’s face of details because he hadn’t taken longer to admire his features.

“Uhm, Kim Jongin, right?” Jongin was also grateful he took the initiative and went ahead with the whole dating ritual – names, birthdays, status, maybe Western zodiac and anything else that sketched their personality within a couple of words.

“Yes,” he answered carefully, only to sound monotone. Excellent job in showing you might be indifferent, Kim Jongin. “Lee Taemin?”

“Yes.” Taemin gave him a small smile, enough to make Jongin finally gaze at him.

“Want anything to drink?”

Taemin picked the menu and opened it, flipping page after page. He pursed his lips and nodded after checking the drinks. “Hmmm,” he leaned his head against his hand. Taemin’s index tapped the menu, still humming. Jongin had no idea why was he staring at everything he was doing, but it brought a chuckle out of him. Taemin shared his amusement with the same small smile from before. “Wine,” he closed the menu and pushed it aside.

The waiter took their orders and they were back at glancing anywhere but at each other.

“I reckon we are the same age?”

“Yes, at least, that's what I have been told.”

“Me too. May I call you Jongin?”

“Sure.”

“What do you do, Jongin? Chanyeol hadn’t mentioned anything more, other than the location, your name and age.”

“He likes surprises.”

“I do too.”

They made eye contact. Jongin noticed Taemin’s dark orbs contoured with black and the slight discoloration on the skin beneath his eye bags – someone who spent a lot of time awake at night, in front of the screen. It didn’t disturb his tan complexion, which provided a healthy glow. From the way Taemin tilted his head slightly, angled his chin just enough to perk Jongin’s interest, it was, for once, already a date Jongin hadn’t experienced. Someone was actually in a dialogue with him, not a monologue, with words easily rolling out of his tongue.

“Want to keep it a surprise then?”

“Yes and no,” they were transfixed with each other, senses heightening. Jongin enjoyed the game Taemin began, it made him at ease. He wasn’t comfortable yet and there were still many fragments of past encounters that placed him in difficulty. He could still wish that a date succeeded, though. He’d go with Taemin’s playful approach if he had to, just to prove to himself he wasn’t the problem.

“I’m curious.”

Taemin leaned forward, sitting on the edge of his seat as his face closed in.

“I am too,” he uttered for Jongin only. “Guess what I do. You have three chances.”

“Accountant?” Taemin pulled away and covered his mouth in an attempt to muffle his chuckles.

“God, no! I cannot handle numbers.”

Jongin made his date laugh. There was definitely a grin creeping on Taemin’s face, he hadn’t dreamt it. “One chance lost,” so he cocked his head and puffed his chest. It was too late for regrets. He might as well enjoy it before he’d accidentally knock over Taemin’s wine and stain his impeccable shirt. “Your turn.”

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Taemin walked his fingers over the table. He touched Jongin’s wristwatch. “You’re obviously carrying heavier pockets than me. So, I guess, some high position?”

“Is that your final answer?”

Taemin leaned back in his chair, both hands resting on his lap.

“No.”

“Time’s ticking,” Jongin mimicked Taemin’s gesture and touched his watch.

“You’re busy, I see.” Jongin almost choked at his words. He knew he’d screw it somehow when not in social gatherings of the corporate world. Before he could argue in his favor, Taemin exclaimed, “I know! You’re a pimp.”

“Excuse me?” Jongin couldn’t believe his ears. He had no idea what kind of wild imagination connected the frail Jongin to that of a procurer of ual favors. He stared blankly and saw Taemin fidget on his seat. “Wow,” he exclaimed when Taemin lowered his gaze to the ground. “You nailed it.”

He liked the way Taemin’s inquisitive eyes landed back over his.

“Kim Jongin,” he spoke softly, head almost as high as before, “are you running an underground organization?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you recruiting unsuspecting victims into your diabolical plans?”

“Maybe.”

“You truly are a mystery.”

“My turn.”

Taemin smiled. “So I hadn’t guessed.”

“No,” Jongin gained confidence with the way the conversation was going. However, inside his ribcage, a fire was burning slowly and all the smoke was fogging his reason. “I might have guessed yours.”

“Is that so, Mr. Kim.”

“Yes.”

“Please,” Taemin interrupted himself when the waiter came with his wine. Once the glass was secure in his grasp, he saluted Jongin. “Share.”

“You like adventure, Mr. Lee,” Taemin drank his wine, listening, “you’re a thrill seeker, a lover of fine arts – maybe – you’re not in an ordinary field.”

“Close, Mr. Kim. You are a true reader of people, are you not?”

“On the contrary, but my job does involve manipulating potential customers into investing in ideas.”

“So, you’re an office worker.”

“Wasn’t it my turn, Mr. Lee?”

Taemin put the glass on the table and crossed is arms over his chest. “Very well then, Mr. Kim. What am I?”

“You’re a beauty.” Jongin almost kicked himself in the mouth for the cheese he was spewing. “Nothing else matters.”