His knuckles bang against the chipped painted surface of a plain wooden door and flecks of brittle white paint detach from the door and stick to his skin. He's been knocking for five minutes.  As soon as the door opens, the owner better be ready to deal with these 173 centimeters of pure impatience. 

Running aching fingers through slicked back hair, Jongdae kicks at the bottom of the door lightly. In dropping his arm to his side, he reaches out to jiggle the handle with no give. Locked.

Of course, the day he leaves his key in his apartment is the day the birdbrain who lives in this certain apartment decides to lock his door and then not hear when someone is knocking.

The weight of his phone in the front pocket of his pinstriped slacks becomes more noticeable all of a sudden, and Jongdae considers calling. He doesn't, though, because if his knocks are unheard, the ring of the phone will most likely fall on deaf ears as well.

Sighing, he shoves his left hand into his other pants pocket and digs his nails into the soft cushion of his wallet as he pulls it out. Flipping open the leather case, he maneuvers his least used credit card from its slot. After replacing the wallet in his pocket, he crouches on one knee. His eyes inspect both ends of the hallway – the last thing he needs is to be caught in this completely suspicious and arguably illegal act – before he wedges the edge of the card between the door and the frame, attempting to push it between the lock and the hole.

It takes an estimate of fifteen minutes, an irregular heartbeat, and a near-death experience where his card almost snaps in half, but Jongdae unlocks the door and pushes it open.

He is greeted with a light fragrance of pineapples and an almost perfectly clean entrance hallway. A few socks are strewn across the carpeted walkway and shoes are toppled everywhere but Jongdae’s own entrance hallway looks much worse.

Venturing further into the apartment and into the living room, Jongdae notices a body slumped over a desk. Striding over to the person with their face smashed attractively into the black keys of a computer keyboard, Jongdae exhales.

He’s asleep.

Jongdae considers picking the other man up and moving him into his room where he can sleep a little longer in a position that won’t make his neck ache, but decides to push the unsuspecting person onto the floor. Jongdae slips his hand into his pocket.

He watches with amusement as the other man’s eyes snap open upon impact with the floor and as the other somehow pushes himself up in his confusion, screaming, “Down, down, down, down, front kick!”

Ten seconds after his outburst the recently awakened man turns his sleep-narrowed eyes to an entertained Jongdae.

“What just happened?” he inquires, his whisper-like voice softer than cashmere now that’s he’s not yelling.

“Good morning, Minseok,” Jongdae says simply, a partially mocking smile playing at his lips.

Blinking, Minseok nods his head slowly. “Good morning,” he drawls and ruffles his already unkempt hair.

At the action, Jongdae notices Minseok’s appearance – disheveled hair, a ratty red shirt with some obscure video game character on it, the pair of hello kitty sweatpants Jongdae gave him as a prank present in their second year of high school, and one sock on his right foot.

He opens his mouth to make a very rude comment about his neighbor’s appearance, but then Minseok yawns and rubs his eyes.

As Minseok’s best friend for the past eight years, Jongdae can comfortably say that is what he hates most about Minseok — the sappy sweet cuteness that encompasses the older man’s entire being like a protective coating. It’s uninhibited and natural and it makes everyone think Minseok is a perfect, inoffensive angel. Especially because when he’s alert, Minseok is soft-spoken.  In simple terms, he’s cute and, in Jongdae’s opinion, it’s complete bull.

Jongdae may like hurting people’s feelings, but Minseok isn’t a person; he’s a four year old.

Loosening his solid black tie with one hand, Jongdae tugs at the bridge of his nose with the tired fingers of the other.

“Do you know what time it is?” The clean-cut, suited man asks, running his eyes over Minseok’s sleepy appearance once more.

Minseok brushes his hair out of his face. “You ask me that every time you come over and my answer is always the same. No.” Rubbing at his eyes again, he pushes past Jongdae and shuffles down a short hallway in the direction of the bedrooms and the bathroom.

Following so close behind he almost trips over Minseok’s heels, Jongdae leans against the white frame of the door leading into the bathroom as Minseok walks in.

Arms crossed over his chest, he watches as the slightly stockier man stands before the white porcelain toilet. Minseok reaches for the waist of his sweat-pants, fingers hooking around the stretchable hem, and pauses. He turns to Jongdae.

“Um,” he knits his brows, “I need to pee.”

Jongdae’s lips stretch into a smirk. “Then pee. This won’t be the first time I’ve watched you piss.”

Minseok keeps Jongdae’s gaze, hand still on his waistband. It’s obvious he’s trying to initiate a staring contest with Jongdae and hoping if he wins, his fancily dressed up best friend will leave. Jongdae, though, is unaffected by his games.

Frowning, Minseok pushes his pants down to mid-thigh.

“Why aren’t you wearing underwear?” Jongdae comments.

Hand jerking in surprise, Minseok almost leaks outside of the toilet bowl.

“I don’t feel comfortable knowing that you’re looking at my lower area as I pee.” Minseok shifts his eyes to his friend for a second, quickly returning his attention to the toilet as he finishes relieving himself. “But to answer your question: I’m a single, twenty-four year old man who never leaves his house; I don’t need to wear underwear.”

And that’s another thing about Minseok that bothers Jongdae: he’s strange and says things that contradict his cute appearance. Jongdae blames it on overload of video games.

Jongdae makes a sound in the back of his throat. “That’s y.”

He catches sight of Minseok rolling his eyes as the older man pulls his sweat-pants back up over his hips and flushes the toilet. As the other turns on the tap to wash his hands, Jongdae backs into the hallway and pivots on his heel to walk toward the kitchen.

The kitchen is just as clean as every other part of the house. The mahogany counters are wiped clean and devoid of fingerprints, the cream and ebony checkered tiled floors are moped to present that shine only seen in brand new houses, and the dishes are washed and fill the cabinets according to use, size, and color.

Upon entering the kitchen, Jongdae heads straight to the black two-door refrigerator tucked in between cabinets on both sides. Fingers looped around the long handles, he pulls open the right door.

The shelves are nearly empty except for the small cartons of milk, the two 24-set packs of bottled water, and a bottle of orange juice. Looks like he needs to buy Minseok real groceries. Closing the door, Jongdae props himself up on the counter beside the bulky, yet empty appliance. He doesn’t bother with checking through the shelves of the freezer or the pantry, knowing they will only contain frozen microwaveable meals and countless ramyun packages, respectively.

By the time Minseok comes shuffling back down the hallway, Jongdae is busying himself with playing Tetris on his cell phone. After cursing the blocks for not fitting together the way he wants them to, he looks up to see Minseok standing before him in a new change of clothes and a towel hanging from his head.

“I would appreciate if you got off my counters. I just cleaned them last night and no one knows where your has been.”

“Except I’m not the one who justifies not wearing underwear with being a single, twenty-four year old man.”

Minseok lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug and motions for Jongdae to get off the counter. Like the good friend he is, Jongdae obeys and slips from the surface. They reconvene in the living room where Minseok collapses onto his computer chair and Jongdae silently offers to finish drying the older man’s hair.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure of this not-so-surprising visit?” Minseok asks as he jiggles his mouse, watching at his monitor lights up and his computer whizzes to life. He melts into the back of the chair and types in his password as Jongdae rubs the towel over his head.

Jongdae doesn’t answer him immediately, focusing on his current task at hand. After a few minutes he tosses the towel aside and sifts his fingers through the walnut colored locks. Satisfied with his work, Jongdae slaps Minseok on the back of the head, lips splitting into a wide grin at the whine that emits from his beloved friend.

“I’m here to make sure you’re still alive, since you seem to think it’s okay to hole yourself up in this tiny apartment and live off instant noodles.”

Opening up the internet browser, intent on checking his email, Minseok tilts his head back against Jongdae’s chest with his lips pushed out into a pout.

“I’ll have you know that instant noodles are a sufficient source of nourishment,” he defends with narrowed eyes and puffed out cheeks.

Jongdae is not amused. “A sufficient source of nourishment, my . You need to eat better. Especially when you’re someone who only sees natural light from his windows.”

“You’re labeling me as a recluse.” Minseok opens the internet browser. When he’s logging in to check his email, a chirpy tune plays and a blinking message for a video call request pops up onto the screen. He accepts the request and watches the video call window load, putting his email on hold.

“You are one.” And Jongdae slaps the back of his head again, causing Minseok to lurch forward and almost fall into his monitor.

“Whoa there. Should I put on my 3D goggles or are you just that happy to see me?”

Once he regains control of himself, Minseok digs his heels in to the carpet and forces his weight back, sending the back of his chair into Jongdae’s stomach. Satisfied with the pained grunt from behind, he grins at Chanyeol’s face taking up half of his computer screen. Minimizing the video chat window to a less obnoxious size, Minseok pulls up the previously abandoned window for his email and minimizes that as well so it doesn’t cover the video.

“We just saw each other yesterday, Yeol,” he says, opening one particular email that catches his eye.

“You went outside yesterday?” Jongdae leans over the back of Minseok’s chair.

Minseok scoffs, still skimming through the email. “Of course not. Plus, Chanyeol lives in Daegu.” Finally tearing his eyes away from the email, he looks at the video chat. Chanyeol’s since turned his own attention away from his computer, bent over and searching for something out of the view of his webcam. “Are you going to G*Star?” Minseok asks.

Chanyeol holds up an arm and waves it around, his signal for Minseok to wait a moment.

“What’s a G*Star?” Jongdae questions, resting his bony chin on Minseok’s shoulder. The latter jerks and almost sends his chair back into Jongdae again. He whips his head around with a sparkle in his eyes that Jongdae recognizes as the look that means he’s going to be lectured about something he otherwise doesn’t care about.

“It’s like a gaming convention.”

Minseok nods and Jongdae heaves a sigh of relief, sending a thankful glance to Chanyeol who doesn’t see it because he’s still scrambling for something. The two friends hear a ‘oh, forget about it, I’ll find it later’ from someone else off-screen and it’s enough to have Chanyeol popping back up into sight.

“Hi Baekhyun!” Minseok calls out, hoping he’s heard.

Before any of them have a chance to take their next breath, something whisks past Chanyeol’s camera and the video lags on Minseok’s screen, showing a horribly pixelated Chanyeol falling out of the shot and another pixelated man taking his place. When the connection stabilizes, Minseok smiles at the bright, cheery face grinning back at him. Baekhyun’s a tad out of breath from rushing over, pink lips parted, chest heaving, and his hair the color of the darkest midnight falling into his face.

“Minnie!” The grin on the pretty boy’s face drops into a scowl. Minseok watches as he grabs a nearby phone book and smacks Chanyeol with it. “Why didn’t you tell me you were talking to Minnie, you .”

"I didn't even know you were home until you asked me to find the menu to that Vietnamese place," Chanyeol tries to defend himself, only to be hit with the phone book again.

Baekhyun huffs and hugs the thick book to his chest. He looks directly into the camera with his signature pout. "Explain to me again why you introduced me to this oaf? Out of all of your nerd friends you chose this one."

Baekhyun was Minseok's roommate in his freshman year of college. Minseok just met Chanyeol for the first time a few weeks before classes ended for the year at another gaming convention. Baekhyun was seriously getting on his nerves, doing nothing but contemplating revenge on his ex for cheating on him so Minseok decided to play matchmaker to get Baekhyun to shut up. Baekhyun and Chanyeol got along well enough and Minseok was able to study for his finals in peace.

"He was the most normal out of all of them." Minseok leans back in his chair but jumps forward when he feels Jongdae's fingers against his shoulder blades. Jongdae pulls him back, relocating his arms to around Minseok's neck.

"Since you're busy, I'm going home," Jongdae says with his lips against the shell of Minseok's ear, an action normal and completely innocent to them. "But because I can't leave you in here by yourself all day, we're going out later. Put on something decent and not lame or I'm throwing out all of your ramen packages."

Minseok gasps and jerks his head to look at Jongdae, only for his forehead to slam into the other's. As he cradles his head, rubbing at his sore temple, Jongdae collapses to the floor to hold his own throbbing cranium. They both yell curses at each other, not noticing the couple still watching them.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol glance at each other before turning back to the screen. "We didn't know you were dating, Min," they say simultaneously.

If not for the oncoming headache, Minseok would have glared. "I'd rather die before I date this doofus," he grinds out between clenched teeth, all of his attention focused on running Jongdae over with his chair, the younger man still on the floor.

"You guys are cute, though."

Sighing, Minseok stops trying to leave dirty wheel tracks on Jongdae's nice suit. He faces his computer. He then begins to explain to the couple that Jongdae is his best friend since the dinosaur age and at no point in either of their lives will they be romantically affiliated. He forces Jongdae to agree when the lousy jerk pulls himself up from the floor.

Jongdae smiles at the couple, finally greeting them politely. He leans into Minseok again, not caring how the older man threatens to hit him with the chair. "I'll pick you up at ten. Don't try to hide in your closet again."

Minseok sticks his tongue out at him but nonetheless smiles before Jongdae slips out the front door.

"Totally cute," Baekhyun says. Chanyeol nods in agreement.

"I hate you guys," Minseok whines before looking at the clock at the bottom of the screen. It's a little bit after a quarter to four. Uncaring about how late into the day he slept, Minseok worries about the amount of work he needs to do (not that there is a whole to do when you play video games for a living). He has stuff to record, videos to render out and upload. He needs a good three hours to mentally prepare himself for whatever outing Jongdae has planned tonight and possibly buy new clothes. "Actually, I'm going to go as well. Since Jongdae is forcing me out of my house tonight, I guess we'll have to wait until tomorrow to do the GTA (Grand Theft Auto) recording?"

"Fine with me." Chanyeol grins.

After Minseok properly says his goodbyes and promises Baekhyun to call more often for normal conversation and not 'nerd talk' with Chanyeol, he ends the video call. He starts to relocate to his television but changes course to the kitchen. There, he shuffles to the refrigerator and pulls out one of the small cartons of milk, collecting a bowl and the box of fruity cereal on top of the refrigerator.

This is going to be a wonderful day. Pouring his cereal into the bowl, Minseok tries to ignore the dread pooling in his stomach.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

When Jongdae bursts into Minseok's apartment at thirty minutes to ten, Minseok is slumped over the arm of his couch, attempting to get all of the blood to rush to his head. He makes a face at the older man as he walks up the couch, tossing the clothes in his arms onto the cushion of the black reclining chair. Swallowing down the burning desire to insult Minseok’s intelligence — which won’t go very well considering Minseok has a beautifully framed computer engineering degree — Jongdae bores down at the other man. The corner of his lips twitch into a faint smile. Minseok cleans up nice when he tries, something Jongdae wishes happened more often.  In the few hours he was gone, Minseok managed to straighten his forever unruly hair and put on something decent. Too bad Jongdae’s going to make him change. He appreciates the wine colored button down but the unflattering mom jeans need to go.

“I’m sorry but I can’t try to render myself unconscious with you hovering over me like that. Especially with your crotch in my face,” Minseok says.

As if on cue, Jongdae rolls his eyes. “My bad. I’ll make a mental note. When Minseok wants to be stupid, don’t stand so your crotch is in his face because it distracts him too much.”

“It doesn’t distract me.”

“I think it does.”

“I am not having a conversation with you about what your crotch does to me.” Minseok sits up but ends up hunching over and holding his head at the feeling of being upright after so long. “What are you doing here so early anyway? I was hoping to be knocked out by the time you got here.”

Digging a pair of pants from the pile of clothes he abandoned, Jongdae throws them at the other, chuckling when they land on Minseok’s head. “Change,” he orders. “I knew something about you was going to be wrong so I’m here early to fix it. Plus, there is nothing wrong with being a little ahead of schedule.”

Jongdae ignores the other’s grumblings over having to change his clothes when he’s already being a good sport and letting Jongdae take him out in the first place. Minseok retreats into his bedroom down the hall to change and Jongdae falls ungracefully onto the couch where he was just sitting.

He’s always loved Minseok’s apartment much more than his own — but that’s mostly because Minseok actually cleans once a week and Jongdae cleans when he can’t find the television remote. He’s fond of Minseok's choice of interior design; from the stark white walls to the black furniture to the blue accents of the curtains, the decorative plates on the small dining table, the flowers sitting in the window sill. Jongdae often considers hunkering down and changing the look of his own apartment four doors down. Then he remembers he has a key to Minseok’s apartment and the idea flies out of his head like a migrating bird.

“We’re going clubbing,” Minseok deadpans when he walks back into the living room dressed in acid-washed jeans so tight he’s afraid they’ll rip if he tries to sit down. This is not his definition of comfortable.

Sniffing, Jongdae leans back into the couch, raking his eyes over his best friend and failing to notice how his eyes linger on the other’s thighs. He doesn’t bother to deny the truth about them going clubbing. “Are you wearing underwear?”

Minseok, in the middle of trying to peel the pants away from his thighs and failing, looks up at Jongdae, face blank. He blinks once. Jongdae takes that as a no.

“Good thing I stuffed a in one of the back pockets before I came over here to give them to you.”

Alarmed, Minseok breaks the expressionless mask he crafted and his eyes widen. In other circumstances he would have dug through the pockets to see if Jongdae is serious but he figures that if the pants don’t detach from his thighs, there is no way his hands are squeezing into the pockets.

With a shrug, Jongdae stands and starts toward the door, swiping a Luigi decorated wallet off the seat beside him as he moves. “Well, there’s no point in sitting around. Might as well get going.”

Minseok follows, stopping to slip on a slightly worn pair of red high-tops. They’re really the only pair of shoes that he wears and he hopes it’s not a problem with the club’s dress code. Actually, that’s wrong. He hopes it’s a problem and they refuse to let him in so he can come back home and play Assassin's Creed 4. “Can I change my pants, please,” he begs, refusing to move further after putting on his shoes.

Jongdae looks at him, unamused. Wordlessly, he grabs Minseok by the wrist and yanks him out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

“I don’t have my key or my wallet!”

Jongdae only continues to drag him to the elevator. “I have the key. And your kiddie wallet. You’re not getting out of this.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Minseok pouts. “I hate you.”

Jongdae almost melts because it’s impossible to keep teasing Minseok when he pulls out the killer pout but he holds strong. He’s lived through eight years of that pout, he should be used to it by now. He wraps an arm around Minseok and draws him in close, planting a wet kiss on the older man’s cheek. “I love you too, Minnie.”

The elevator doors chose to open just before his little joke and Jongdae’s laughter dies on his lips when he notices the middle aged man grimacing at him as he steps off the elevator.  Thankfully no words are exchanged and the man continues down the hall without another glance. He’s never seen the man before so Jongdae hopes he’s just visiting and doesn’t live here or anything.

"You're an embarrassment," Minseok ridicules as he steps into the elevator.

“He was totally jealous. Overflowing with envy because he knew he’d never be able to kiss you like I can.” Jongdae presses the button to the ground floor.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that and repeat: you’re an embarrassment.”

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

By the time they’re at the entrance of the club, Minseok has fit his hands into his front pockets. He swears he can feel skin-on-skin contact between his hands and his thighs even though there is supposed to be the fabric of the pockets there.

Flinching when Jongdae’s hand falls onto the small of his back, pushing him into the nightclub, Minseok feels all of the color strip from his face at the sheer amount of people crowding throughout the club. The ratio of people outside the club to the people inside the club is severely skewed and Minseok thinks he’s going to throw up. The confident, playful mask he put up for Jongdae crumbles like an old building during an earthquake. This isn’t him. He doesn’t do things like this. He sits in his house and plays video games all day, sometimes talking to Chanyeol when he gets lonely and sometimes ordering food when he gets too lazy to cook for himself. He doesn’t socialize with anyone other than his gaming friends (and Jongdae); he definitely doesn’t go out to clubs and dance with people he’s never met before.

“D-Dae, I don’t think I —” Turning over his shoulder, Minseok cuts short when he realizes that Jongdae is no longer behind him. He tosses his head back and forth, looking for his best friend but not seeing the familiar face through the wavering throngs of people. Just barely preventing himself from having a meltdown in the middle of a club, Minseok slithers and waves around gyrating bodies until he finds the safe haven of the bar. Perching on a barstool close to a wall, Minseok looks out into the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend. But nothing. Of course that would ditch him as soon as they got in. Plus he still has Minseok’s precious Luigi wallet so Minseok can’t even go home.

“I’m going to kill him,” Minseok seethes, leaning back on the counter. Jongdae better be thankful he took his pills before they left.

“You gonna order something or are you just taking up space because we have tables upstairs for that.”

Barely repressing a small shriek of surprise, Minseok takes his eyes off the crowd to look at the dapper looking man behind the counter. The barkeep wears his sleek, black dress pants and shirt like a second skin with his dusk blue pinstriped tie so perfect Minseok thinks it’s a clip-on. Milk chocolate hair accentuates and matures a (seemingly) naturally young face and attractive hands toss a white rag back and forth.

Minseok freezes because someone is talking to him and this someone is not Jongdae and he doesn’t know what to do. His mouth gapes open just slightly and he stares at the bartender until the other man is called away by a girl sitting on the complete other end of the bar asking for another Bloody Mary. He takes the time to collect himself. This is why he shouldn’t have let Jongdae take him out. Now the bartender with the pretty pert nose and the slight bags under his eyes will probably think he’s stupid or something. Minseok decides that as soon as he finds Jongdae, he’s dragging the journalist out and they’re going home. And once he’s in the safety of his own apartment, he’s going to crawl beneath his bed and rot. He’s going to rot and insects and rats are going to feast on his body.

“So, about that drink…”

This time Minseok does yelp, sounding like a newborn puppy and knocking his elbow into the counter.

The bartender raises his hands in defense as if proving he isn’t the reason for Minseok’s pained whinnying to the few other lingering around the bar.  The music drowns him out anyway so there isn’t a point.

When Minseok’s calm (or as calm as he can possibly be) again, the bartender lowers his hands, asking if Minseok is going to buy something for the third time.

“Can I just get something off the tap?” Minseok asks, forgetting for a second that he is in a club and the bass is thumping and talking at his normal, soft tone isn’t going to work.

“I’m sorry?”

The gamer shakes his head again before he repeats himself, remembering to yell over the noise. The bartender nods and tells Minseok he’ll be back in a second with his drink. It's then that Minseok mentally face palms because he doesn't have his wallet. How is he supposed to pay for that? He pats his pockets, knowing that there's nothing in them -- wait. Feeling something in one of his back pockets, he takes whatever it is out. The sound of something falling to the ground barely reaches his ears but he doesn't care about whatever it was because thank God, Jongdae hid enough money in his pocket for at least this one drink.

But what fell? Looking at the ground, Minseok immediately scowls when he sees what else was in his pocket. Snatching it off the floor, he shoves it back into his pocket, making a mental note to suffocate Jongdae with it later. A .

Mentally exhausted, Minseok leans against the counter again. He takes his phone out and starts up one of the many games he has. At the same time, a glass is plunked down in front of him, filled to the brim with frothing beer. The bartender tells him the price of the drink, asking if he wants to start up a tab. Pretending as he knew he could afford the drink the whole time, Minseok shakes his head and hands over all of the cash he found for both the drink and a semi-decent tip. The bartender takes and walks off, counting it as he goes.

Pursing his lips around the rim of the cup, Minseok slowly nurses the alcohol as he gets back to his game.

“What’re you playing?”

Minseok’s eyes widen and he leans away as the bartender tries to see the screen of his phone. He stares, breath starting to quicken with fear as the uniformed man asks what the name of the game is.

“. Are you okay? You look really pale. Let me get you some water.”

And then the bartender rushes to fill a glass of water, sliding it across the counter when another customer calls for a shot of rum.

At the very least, Minseok’s grateful for the sentiment. He reins in his anxiety long enough to down the glass. Slamming the glass down, he comes to a marvelous conclusion: no one will ever find Jongdae’s body when Minseok’s done with him. They’ll search high and low for the man but he’ll never be seen again and when the police close the missing persons case and declare Kim Jongdae dead, Minseok won’t even pretend to mourn.

When the bartender comes over to check on him, Minseok is boiling with so much anger he doesn’t feel terrified at having to socialize with the stranger. Minseok assures that he’s alright and that he’s just not all that good with people. Being so close sort of freaked him out a bit. The mildly attractive man bows and apologizes for the second time that night.

“Why are you here if you don’t like people? They’re sort of here by the thousands, if you didn’t notice.” The bartender’s words hold enough teasing sarcasm to make Minseok narrow his eyes.

The professional gamer grabs for his earlier abandoned drink and continues to down it. “I’m quite aware of that fact.” He sighs, shoulders slumping. “My friend dragged me out and then proceeded to leave me. He’s somewhere in all of that.” Minseok motions to the dance floor.

The bartender nods. “Your friend’s a .”

Minseok starts to laugh in the middle of swallowing and he chokes.

“, man. At this rate, you’re gonna die before you leave this place.”

“Please…don’t jinx me,” Minseok grunts out between coughs. Another glass of water is placed in front of him and he drinks it with the same gusto as before.

Chuckling, the bartender leans against the counter and taps his fingers to the beat of the music. “I’m not. Say, what’s your name? Just in case you have a sudden heart attack and I need to explain to the paramedics and my boss that I didn’t poison you in a fit of rage."

“Is that really the reason why you want to know my name?” He asks because he has no other way to respond to that.

“Yeah,” the bartender replies easily.

Minseok pushes air into his cheeks and pouts. The bartender jolts in shock and Minseok deflates his cheeks. No one goes unaffected by the killer pout.

“Holy . What the was that?” The brunet looks at Minseok like he’s a monster. “Don’t you pull that cute ever again. I thought I was going to go to hell for a second.”

“You curse a lot.”

The bartender shrugs. “I’m filled with oceans of suppressed anger. It’s how I cope.” He shakes his head. “But you still haven’t told me your name.”

“Minseok.”

“Well, welcome to Soul, Minseok. My name is Lu Han. Try not to die while I’m on my shift."