“I think they are going to sell soon, giving the numbers have been increasing exponentially with---”

“What’s this?”

He lifted his eyes from the documents and grinned.

“Are you still looking for a date?”

Chanyeol, early 20s, fresh out of university, playful and adored by the female staff. He was also Jongin’s partner-in-crime when it came to business, as they had been working on projects together ever since they hired Chanyeol at the firm. Jongin had been there for a while, so he automatically became his boss. Yet, the two had a rather close relationship, friendly, one would say, to the point that Chanyeol sometimes slipped at work and spoke informally around Jongin.

He never scolded him, though, or something similar. Jongin cared more about properly doing their job, so he usually didn’t even notice it until someone else pointed it out or gave them a weird look. Either way, that day too, Chanyeol had been feeling rather comfortable around Jongin, so while they were looking over reports and comparing statistics, Jongin was surprised to find a note when he turned the page. Chanyeol would usually bookmark him some pages, but the white post-it simply had a name and a phone number on it. Jongin stared and so their discussion began.

“No,” Jongin admitted right away. He hadn’t thought about meeting anyone new. “What are you doing?”

“C’mon, Jongin-ah,” Chanyeol winked. “I’m sure you’d love it this time.”

“Why?”

“He’s the brother of a guy I know, pretty cool dude.”

“So?”

“He’s also looking for someone, but he’s not really the type to go ahead and date anyone, so I told him I have a good friend that he’ll surely like.”

“And?”

“And I gave him your name and age.”

Jongin groaned. “Chanyeol, please,” he grabbed one of the thick folders and waved it, “we have too much to worry about right now, why would I go and date someone whose face I don’t even know?”

“Believe me,” Chanyeol winked again, “you’d like it this time.”

“What makes you so sure of it?

“Trust me on this.”

“No.”

“Too bad,” Chanyeol leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the other, “because I already told him you’re going to call him.”

“What?” Chanyeol pulled his laptop closer and sent a link in their instant messaging program. Jongin sighed and didn’t even bother fighting. He opened the link and a long list of restaurants and other romantic places in Seoul assaulted him with pictures and details. “Really?”

“Just pick a place already.” Jongin sighed a second time. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes before placing them back and skimming through everything. He didn’t want to go anywhere, nor had he any interest in whatever brother Chanyeol knew. One item on the list had a funny name. Instead of picking something familiar, Jongin went ahead and muttered he’d like it there. He saw Chanyeol preoccupied with his phone, so he didn’t even bother taking a second look over the site. “Okay, sent.”

“Sent what?” Chanyeol put his phone aside and both eyebrows disappeared under his bangs from the smug look he was giving to his superior. “What?”

“Sent the date location.”

“What?”

“Call him for confirmation. You’re all set up, buddy.”

That was how Jongin ended up in a fancy restaurant with a menu that cost him several hobbies a month. It wasn’t because he wanted to put on a good show in front of his date or to give him the best, no matter what the sum totaled to. It was because Chanyeol coaxed him into it and he hadn’t been courageous enough to cancel, or, at least postpone it for when he’d be ready (and for a better location). His mind blanked when he had to get their reservations too, so it still felt surreal that the other, Taemin, hadn’t punched him after the terrible comment he delivered in their game of guess. Something about Taemin being a beauty.

Taemin hadn’t mauled Jongin even after they continued guessing, despite both using the three chances they had agreed upon. He was actually laughing often and seemed rather amused with everything Jongin had been blurting out throughout the night. Or maybe it was the wine that swept him like summer heat, or the food they gobbled up unapologetically. Jongin hadn’t had a thing since lunch and he was delighted Taemin shared his appetite.

“Okay, okay,” he grabbed his glass and sipped the red wine, “what about,” a blush was creeping on his cheeks from the alcohol in his body, “what about a politician?”

“Not sure that would look good on my résumé.”

“Being a politician?”

“Dating a guy as a politician.”

“Ah,” Taemin sipped again. He placed the glass in front of his plate and stuffed his mouth. Jongin had done the same, grateful for the short pause. Truly, he was ecstatic with all the talking, but his stomach had no desire of anything other than food and words weren’t enough to satiate the monster. “The old dilemma.”

“Don’t you think,” Jongin chewed and swallowed his last bites, eager to continue in the direction they were going, “it’s funny that it works in the entertainment industry, but when it comes to real life, it’s suddenly taboo?”

“You mean,” Taemin sipped his wine again. “You mean, in movies?”

“And novels, dramas and such. It always draws some kind of positive critique, but give the same people a real life couple and they will crucify you.”

“Funnily enough, Romans preferred hanging.”

“Really?”

Taemin winked and emptied his glass. “Nah, I’m ting you. They reserved it for the worst and lowest of the low though.” Jongin wasn’t sure whether to hide from his naivety or from the way Taemin’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he drank those last drops and the way he winked, the phantom of a smirk hanging on the edge of his lips. He was also not sure whether he should close his mouth or not, so he shoved in more food and chewed slower, believing it would help diffuse his idiocy. “You’re getting warmer, by the way.”

“Warmer,” Jongin muttered, “with the hanging?”

Taemin giggled, “No, silly.” Aw. Jongin filled his mouth in response. He didn’t want to let out some squeal that would ruin his newly acquired cool persona. “With the entertainment industry.”

“You’re part of it?”

“Maybe.”

“Mr. Lee, yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Jongin fixed his glasses. He was about to crack the case that was Lee Taemin’s job and change his name into Holmes Jongin. Unless he was going to be wrong again.

“Mr. Lee,” Taemin wouldn’t take his eyes off him. He wanted initially to say how red Jongin’s face had suddenly become (thus, the warmer remark), but he let it slide right away when he came to the conclusion that the evening had been stretching enough for one day and it was time they moved on. “You’re not an actor.”

“Correct.”

“You’re not a musician.”

“Correct.”

Jongin tried his best not to take his glasses off and give him a seductive look as he was readying to deliver the final line. He really couldn’t see a thing without them and he had been foolish enough to leave for once his contacts home in almost ten years. “Mr Lee,” he had, however, lowered his voice for effect and he could see it built tension from the sparkle in Taemin’s eyes. “You’re a dancer.”

“False.” There, in that single answer, was why he couldn’t boast as the number one detective of the country. He had never been good with puzzles. “I’m a novelist.”

“Oh.” Taemin called the waiter to fill his glass.

“Does that disappoint you, Mr. Kim?” He watched the way the liquid stained the edges maroon. The waiter excused himself right after. He grabbed the glass and returned his full attention to the other.

“On the contrary,” it hadn’t. The fact that they were still in verbal motion had made Jongin the happiest man alive. He couldn’t tell him that without sounding desperate. He also had a harder time picking the right words in front of someone whose language skills possibly far surpassed his. Nevertheless, he had no intention of ending it. “I used to read a lot. Then I got busier and busier… I got busy, yes.”

“You do not need to excuse yourself, Mr. Kim. I do not have ill thoughts for those that do not pick books in their spare time.” Taemin had the same wink / semi-smirk duo that accelerated Jongin’s heartbeat.

“Why wouldn’t you? It’s like a movie director looking down upon those hating their visual masterpieces.”

“I cannot condemn anyone for not reading.” He giggled. Jongin was sure Taemin had a drink too many. “Especially since most of my work is infused with a.”

“Oh.” Taemin’s giggles turned into bold laughter. Everyone was staring at their table. Jongin thanked that no one shushed them yet. “No, I mean. Full-a or… Murakami?”

“Murakami,” Taemin nodded. “You do know your authors.” Taemin abandoned the glass and stood up from his seat. “Since I have lost, I await your punishment after I return from the restroom, Mr. Kim. Think of something appropriate,” he walked alongside the table, his index drawing a ghostly line above it. Taemin retracted his hand right before he’d hit Jongin’s fingers. “Excuse me.”

Jongin stared at his figure decreasing. He wasn’t stumbling on his feet or showed any signs of inebriation. Taemin either had a real need for the restroom (which means he had been shamelessly flirting with him - too much of a fairytale for Jongin to believe) or he was about to flee like a girl had done once. It flashed him momentarily when Taemin took the corner and vanished behind the dark brown walls to where the restrooms were. She was sweet, Jongin couldn’t say otherwise, with her hair having a slight auburn shine. Somehow, that was the only detail he could remember. Everything else was a blur, but all of his memories made her the possessor of that scene.

It was similar to the evening with Taemin, with the slight difference that the girl had been doing most of the talking. She told Jongin about her future prospects, how much she enjoyed her job and what she would expect if they officially had become a couple. The confidence she oozed fascinated him. Jongin might have emulated the way she carried the discussion not long after their date, only because it was better than the way Jongin usually presented himself in meetings.

He thought they were having a great time, just like with Taemin, and he even shared some intimate details he wouldn’t usually mention in front of strangers. Then, out of the blue, she confessed she had an urgent need for the bathroom. Jongin didn’t ask why she had taken her coat and bag when she headed to the restrooms. He didn’t want to be nosy in the already fragile connection he was webbing. After almost thirty minutes passed, Jongin asked a female waiter if she could check on her. To his surprised, Jongin found out the woman had long gone and she had instructed the staff to put the entire bill on him. Jongin hadn’t seen her since then.

There was a sense of betrayal after investing time, money and emotion into someone who dashed out of his life the moment they got everything they needed without profit. He blamed her at times. He blamed her for his inability to concentrate anymore on his dating partners. He blamed for the way she used him, like some kind of leech that caught you by surprise while swimming in a muddy lake. There was a clear warning, but he still chose to dive in.

Jongin tapped the table to the tune soothingly playing in the background. He barely perceived that too, the rhythm too dreamlike for his supersonic mind to react.

He stopped blaming her once he realized he was the actual bastard. All the women and men he had taken for dinner most liked sensed aggression radiating from him, so they also cut the date short. Gradually, he learned to forget and forgive. He only had her hair to remember and nothing else, enough to patch his wounds and to finally return to the mumbling, stuttering, glass-fixing idiot he was.

Jongin felt something hit his shoulder lightly. He turned to the side and saw Taemin smiling as he hurried back to his seat.

“So, Mr. Kim?”

“Yes, Mr. Lee?”

“What’s my punishment?”

In that moment he knew, that if Taemin was another version of that woman, Jongin wouldn’t regret it. He needed whatever he was doing to him.