CHAPTER 2

A/N: “Pojangmacha” is a tent bar. A street stall usually covered by a plastic tarp that sells inexpensive street foods, alcoholic beverages (like beer and soju) and anju, which are dishes made to accompany drinks

                       A thick shot glass slipped from the edge of a small wooden table and hit the ground with a loud crash. The elderly owner of the warmly lit pojangmacha who was cooking at the time fussed at his wife to go get it. The short haggard woman rushed out from behind the counter of foods with a broom and dustpan to collect the shattered glass. The customer who knocked it to the ground looked fresh out of high school, wearing urban styled clothes that were comically oversized and a snapback turned backwards. He was loud, drunk and belligerent, shouting at any customers who even remotely looked his way while slamming his fists hard onto the table. The woman’s hands shook as she cleaned hurriedly as the man cackled and took another shot of his soju.

                       Minho slipped in through the plastic slit opening of the tent and walked up to the table. He calmly placed both hands onto the table opposite him and glared down at the man, who shrank back at the tall young man fixed on him.

“What the hell do you want?” he fussed pretending not to be intimidated.

“The people here do their best to make sure s like you can enjoy a hearty cheap meal and a drink at all hours of the night. Is this really how you’re going to repay their generosity?”

“I’ll do whatever I want. off.”

                       Minho stood up and smoothly circled the table, positioning himself behind him. He placed his hands on his shoulders, gripping firmly at the frail muscles that felt just about to break under pressure. He stiffened, one hand frozen on what was supposed to be his next shot of soju. Minho leaned forward, increasing pressure and brought his lips to his ear.

“You will get up after you finish that glass, then you will pay and apologize to the owner. If you don’t, I might be inclined to join you, Friend.”

                       He looked just about to piss his pants even after Minho left him be. Quickly downing his drink, he scrambled to the counter. After bowing ninety degrees to the old man, he paid a handsome sum of money to cover his food and the broken property, then darted out of the tent.

“Minho-yah, thank you so much. I’m so happy to have you here.” Praised the lady, who abandoned her cleaning to happily clasp his hands. He smiled warmly as she rubbed them beaming up at him and tipped his head down a little.

“No need to thank me. Really.”

“Just pick a table, any table. I’ll bring you something good.”

“Ne Umma.” 

                       Minho started walking towards the back corner, thinking all tables were empty as they usually were when he stopped by, but was surprised to come eye to eye with Kibum. He was seated comfortably, already having feasted on a number of fried skewers and had a half-empty cup of beer next to the plate. Now feasting his eyes on Minho, he slowly pulled the long stick from his mouth, chewing at the bits of beef still sticking to it until it was gone.

                       Raising his free hand, he gave a little wave and motioned him to come over. Minho approached cautiously and stopped short.

“You…” Minho started to say, slowly pointing.

“So, Minho is your name.” Kibum observed dabbing at his mouth with some tissue. “Well, Minho, would you care to join me? A hero deserves a good meal.”

                       Gravity. Magnetism. Convenience. Boredom. Minho couldn’t really figure out what made him take Key up on his offer. Well, it was his usual spot, which briefly made him feel betrayed that his mother had willingly given it up. Knowing her fascination for flamboyant types, she probably found him interesting and surrendered to whatever charms he employed when he requested the cushiest spot. There was definitely already enough to eat, though from the looks of Kibum’s dainty eating mannerisms seemed like he could never get through it all without taking home leftovers.

“Enlighten me, Kibum-ssi.” Minho started as he sat down on the weak wooden chair across the table from him.

“My friends call me Key.” He smiled, and brought his elbows up onto the table and interlaced fingers under his chin. “I certainly would like to think of us as friends already, what with the drinks and food we’re about to share and all.”

“Okay…Key,” Minho said oddly, getting used to the name falling from his mouth. “I don’t mean to be rude but, why this pojangmacha of all the ones available in Hongdae? We’re not exactly….popular.”

Minho glanced over at his parents. His mother has cleaned the mess from earlier and was waving goodbye to a nice group of girls leaving while his father busied himself with preparing orders for the remaining three tables.

“Well,” sighed Key as Minho looked back at him. “It’s more comfortable that way, for several reasons. It’s simple, quiet and the folks here are very welcoming to me despite the…intimate company I keep.”

                       Minho guessed by the careful placement of his words that he was referring to men. Being gay in South Korea outside of Itaewon wasn’t exactly acceptable. Kibum, who seemed far less reserved than himself would be more likely to find himself in a wary situation for suspicion alone. His mother was nothing like that. She was accepting, especially so to Minho as he grew into his interest in men. He knew what it felt like to have an ally in a world of enemies. Even in a raggedy old struggling pojangmacha, it was worth a few bucks to just sit and be yourself.

“There’s something about this place.” Key continued. “It just…feels like home.”

“Home?” questioned Minho. “You’re not from Seoul?”

“Nah.” Kibum waved off. “I’m from Daegu. I came to Seoul to study.”

“You’re a college student too?”

“Yea. I’m studying fashion and design.”

Why am I not surprised?  Minho thought, snickering without saying a word. Kibum blushed a little at the low deep laugh, loving the sound of the base even more than the exhausted tone he’d heard before.

“And you?”

“Me?” Minho echoed the question before answering. “I’m going to school on a soccer scholarship. Ultimate goal is the World Cup.”

“Well, that explains the muscles.”                                                                                         

                       Kibum laughed, not in such a subtle way as he had done. It was high-pitched, a wicked and infectious sound erupting from within him so powerfully that it made him shake. Minho felt embarrassed, so sure that Key was thinking the same as he did when he informed Minho of his own focus of study. He joined in the laughter, almost not noticing when his mother approached their table with a large tray of dishes and a bottle of soju. When he noticed her he cleared his throat and hurriedly piled any empty plates together and pushed them aside to make room. Key took the soju and thanked her, then proceeded to pour it into the two shot glasses she had rushed back to retrieve.

“Eat well.” She smiled pleasantly humbled by the sight of the two engrossed in laughter.

“Ne. I will eat well.” Kibum smiled back with a little bow.

Minho watched affectionately as she left them alone, joining her husband behind the counter. Kibum sat his chin in the palm of one hand while picking up his shot glass with the other.

 “I’m glad it wasn’t just a dream.”

“Huh?” Minho replied refocusing on him and grabbing the other glass. “What?”

“That I actually met you.” Key answered sweetly throwing back his shot. “I was so wasted. I just vaguely remember a very quiet and handsome stranger taking me home.”

“Oh?” Minho said dismissively, tossing back the alcohol in his glass and refilling it again. “Well, for a drunk, you’ve got a damn good memory and seemingly no self-control.”

“Hmmm?” Key cooed playfully. “Or do I?”

                       An awkward and shy laugh came out of Minho, followed by a devilish one from Key. Yes, he definitely was charming. As the conversation went on and the soju kicked in he became all the more of a curious entity. Young and full of life, though their student debts put them both in the deep end. Through very generous friends and his own aptitude for attracting fun; Kibum was pretty much living an okay young adult life. Minho envied that spark. Not because he didn’t have it, but because he forgot what it felt like. Well, until he met Kibum.

                       After some light conversation with his parents and teasing from his mother, Minho followed Key out to wait for his cab. The two had more than their fair share of alcohol and the blur of the city lights made that keenly obvious. Key plopped down heavily on a short ledge separating the sidewalk from the street, a lone streetlamp shining down above him. Minho leaned against it and stared down into the shimmering blonde strands of his hair until the other looked up to match his gave.

“Ne, Driver-ssiiiiiiiii.” Drunken Key sang.

“Yah, it’s Minho.” He protested, putting emphasis in the announcement that followed. “My name is Minho!”

“Take me home.” He demanded opening his arms up towards him.

“Aigoo.” Minho deflated, slumping down to lift him into his arms. “You’ll be fine. The cab is coming right now. Let’s go.”

“I’m lonely. Help me.” Kibum fussed as Minho dragged him around to the car, struggling to open the backseat car door as he clung to him.

                       Finally, he stumbled in backwards, but Minho felt himself lose his footing as he was dragged in on top of him. Before he could protest, Key clasped his face in his hands and curled his back up so he could meet his lips. Suddenly and hungrily he feasted on his lips, ignoring the dissatisfied grumble of the taxi driver. Sinking into the feeling Minho’s lips moved on their own, the heated kiss burning through any rational thoughts that weren’t already destroyed by soju. It wasn’t until his hand s up Key’s shirt and he moaned in response that his reason returned.

                       Minho pulled back, separating them as he stumbled out of the car. Key made a little noise and sat up, then helped himself turn upright in his seat. He smiled up at Minho who was still stunned, registering in his brain how that even came about. All the while Key’s eyes stayed fixed on him thinking how cute he truly was for the second time. The driver honked his horn twice and glared at him from the front through the rearview mirror.       

“All right all right.” Kibum fussed at the older man muttering spiteful things about gays. He pulled the door but Minho was caught in it because he had yet to move. “Minho.” He sang. “If you really don’t want me to go. I won’t.”

“Ah.” Minho fumbled out of the way and Key slammed the door. As the car pulled off he stuck his head out and waved.

“Night! Call me sometime!”

                       Minho slowly raised his hand and it froze in the air. Cars honked at him for being in the street until he was startled enough to get back onto the sidewalk. A chilling gust of wind reminded him that he wasn’t wearing a jacket standing alone in the late hour. Was it cold that whole time? He honestly couldn’t tell.

                       Minho sighed. His hand fell dead at his side and the images from tonight and the first night they met started to swirl together. Kibum had kissed Jonghyun the same, even wanted and begged for him the same. Was the Key that kissed him sober or drunk? It felt as though drunk Key buried his teeth into him, while sober Key mended the venom with a smile. Yet they were both one and the same. The intrigue he piqued and the confusion that came along with it just made Minho yearn to find out more.  

Idiot. He yelled at himself. It dawned on him that in all that time eating and drinking he and Kibum never properly exchanged phone numbers.

                       He smacked himself on the forehead as a physical reminder of his stupidity. Like a fool he let him slip into the night without a word. Perhaps this night of heated confusion was actually his last time seeing Key. Minho made his way back to his parents’ tent to have another bottle of soju in hopes of burning away the remaining sensation of being kissed and entranced by a beautiful stranger.