[myope]
ORIGIN early 18th cent.: from French, via late Latin from Greek muōps, from muein ‘to shut’ + ōps ‘eye.’

“Oh my god. Are you really older than me?” Youngjae squints from where he is seated on the floor. “I’m sorry, but hyung, seriously, how are you the leader?” the vocalist groans.

Jongup remains silent, staring at Yongguk, seated next to him, as if he’s some kind of ty invention the younger would very much like to pull apart to repair.

When Jongup speaks, he voices out something Yongguk would never dare to, although he’s been thinking it. Just a little.

“Don’t you think she overreacted?”

To be honest, he’s spent night after night trying to figure out what all this meant and what he might’ve overlooked.

Yongguk purses his lips, “Maybe.”

They sit there in companionable silence before Youngjae blurts out. “I’ve got it.”

Youngjae then hauls Jongup off the couch, with the latter falling onto the vocalist not so gracefully, but they are quick to recover. Yongguk watches the kids warily, as Youngjae side-eyes him and whispers into Jongup’s ear. The latter’s eyes expands to a normal-people size.

“No way.” Jongup slightly elbows Youngjae. “That’s really, that’s just–“

“Yeah, but it’s not impossible, you know. I mean, if ty things should happen to anyone, it’d be him.” The older reasons, as Yongguk grunts, disgruntled.

“But the possibilities–“

“Have you got a better theory, Mr. Moon?”

Yongguk cringes inwardly at the spontaneous name calling. Because, just, no.

Jongup sighs, eyeing his oldest hyung slash leader slash rapper slash producer slash pitiful man, as if Yongguk is the most unfortunate thing to ever grace planet earth.

“What?” He folds his arms defensively.

“Visit your family this weekend, hyung.”

Yongguk furrows his brows at the suddenness of this personal request. Youngjae proceeds to verbally spin his head to the point that Yongguk ends up agreeing without protest.

-

(v)

Yongguk is still staring at his blank phone a week later, because, yeah, okay, he may or may not have given you his number, insisting you either call or text him. Or something. Yongguk is hoping he hadn’t ruined it altogether. Despite your unexplainable backlash, he isn’t resigning any time soon.

The next time Yongguk runs into you is outside a convenience store, after practice. You are wearing your converse, and shorts that accentuated your legs—not that he was staring. And though, you’re wearing a cap to keep the sun out of your face, Yongguk can recognise you in an instant.

He is seriously ed.

Without knowing it, Yongguk makes a beeline towards you, dispatching himself from Daehyun’s complaints of their dinner ban. He is probably infatuated or desperate, or both, so when you pop out of the store with an ice block between you rosy lips and a little bag of candy dangling from your fingertips, Yongguk blocks the sliding door.

“Couldn’t you have texted me, at least?”

You started, and look around warily, as you’re conveniently standing on the steps that made it easy to look over his shoulders. “Uh, I…”

The package of ice cream falls from your loose grip, and Yongguk easily catches it, handing it back to you. You don’t seem to notice his extended hand. Instead, you blink at him from under your cap.

Your voice is careful when you ask, “You were serious?”

Yongguk purses his lips, staring you down flatly for a second or two. “Of course, I am serious. Why would I give you my number if I don’t want you to call?”

“Well, I thought–” Your cheeks pink and you wouldn’t meet his gaze. A beat later you whisper, almost desperately. “You really don’t know?”

Still holding your ice cream, he steps forward, “Know what?”

When you won’t answer, Yongguk carefully takes your cap off of you, so he can at least take a better guess at what you are trying to say. It’s midday, and he’d never stood this close to you at midday, and he really likes you at this distance, because for once he doesn’t feel alone in this, not when you’re within his reach.

You fidget with your candy bag, looking anywhere else but at him.

“How are you doing?” He drawls, quiet and concern.

Biting your lip almost nervously, you carefully raise your head, and instantly avert your eyes a second later.

“I’m sorry. I– I’ve got to go.”

And then you were gone.

With his heart sinking, Yongguk consoles himself that, at least, he still has both your cap and your ice cream.

-

“Yongguk, you’re not dating are you?”

That evening, manager Kang eyes the sensible leader, who happens to be drinking ice water by the sink. On instinct, Yongguk tips the content into the sink and turns around with a convincingly innocent expression.

“Come again, hyung?” Yongguk blinks as if there is absolutely nothing wrong in the world, although his heart is on fire and he kind of needs his peace right now.

Manager Kang scratches his head, starting to look guilty and concern, as if he shouldn’t even be thinking that Yongguk will ever do anything as rash as that. Currently, Yongguk does not feel the weight of this burden upon him, because the fires he has for you are so strong that everything else doesn’t really matter.

“Well, you were darting off to the convenience store, earlier?” Manager Kang eyes him, “Daehyun says you were talking to a girl and, well…”

Yongguk wants to bark out a desperate laugh, just as you did on that night at the park. Because he is twenty-three and he had done so much more than just exchange words with girls.

A twitch makes its way onto his lips, and manager Kang takes it that he is amused by this. Like, this is Bang Yongguk we are talking about, he’s too responsible for that.

Not really, no.

The older man waves a dismissive hand and goes, “Pft, never mind. Daehyun’s just whiny ‘cause he can’t have his dinner,” then he turns around and disappears into the living room.

Yongguk stands there and let it sink in.

He really should start measuring up to his manufactured image, or something.

-

Yongguk doesn’t.

The weekend came and went, with both his two bandmates—younger by five years—keeping their little secret from him.

Naturally, while carrying out his promise, Yongguk had expected something weird to happen during lunch at his parents’ house, with both his sister and brother present. He didn’t expect it to be this dull and tedious.

Yongnam, with his new tattoo, had only said about five words to Yongguk, seven to Steph, eleven to their mum, and half-a-word to their dad.

“He’s been vexing over his ty love life.” Yongguk winces inwardly, as his sister explains. “Although she’s got an absolutely wonderful sense of art.” Steph drawls, poking at the fruits on the table. “She’s quite nice. Designed a few tattoos down at the shop. But your twin just had to ruin it for me. He’s always acting like a complete idiot and now she just… vanished.” She swishes her fork in the air, almost socking Yongguk’s face.

Not only are they twins, but both their love lives also at the same time. Yongguk chuckles grimly at that. His sister eyes him weirdly. He sighs, “So, I’m not the only one with relationship problems.”

“Like twin, like twin.”

“I really don’t think that line works with us, Steph.”

His sister brushes him off, peeking at their mum through the kitchen window. The lady of the house is watering the little garden in their backyard. Steph turns back to take a long look at Yongguk, then says, “So, you’re dating. Are you even allowed?”

Yongguk ducks his head, “Uh, not quite,” and although Steph doesn’t press, he feels the need to tell her anyway. “It’s just, I met her at the cinemas near our dorm one day. And I just, yeah, I keep seeing her everywhere,” He groans. “When I finally approached her, well, didn’t go so well.” He runs both palms over his tired face. “I’ve officially ruined any chance of ever asking her out, or something.”

He sighs, mind wandering off to the memories of the dust of pink that coated your cheeks, the way you’ve mastered the art of tearing up without as much as a twitch in your expression.

Before meeting you, Yongguk had always thought those type of pretty tears are only possible in dramas.

You have successfully made his entire childhood feel like one big lie. But anyway, he’d really like to be the one to make you smile, just once.

“Wow.” Steph says dryly, watching her brother as if he’s a disease. “You are so damn whipped.”

-

(vi)

In retrospect, he probably should thank Youngjae.

The next time he meets you again is at the giant bookstore chain that had just opened. He is overwhelmed by all the books that seem to reach three stories high, and somewhere along the way, he lost Youngjae.

Being the dutiful leader he’s always been, Yongguk spends half an hour weaving in and out of isles until finally locating BAP’s vocalist animatedly hitting on a girl at the end of the romance-fiction section. How ironic.

The kid had winsomely cornered the poor girl into one of the shelves. Yongguk makes to leave, when Youngjae catches his eyes, and for a second, an impish grin slaps onto where the kid’s mouth is supposed to be. A sappily sad feeling washes over Yongguk as the way the girl’s hair cascades down her back reminding him of you.

“Hyung, c’mere!” Youngjae calls, waving enthusiastically. “I’ve got good news.”

Yongguk suppresses the urge to turn and run away, because Youngjae’s voice hasn’t exactly gone by unheard, and, the way people in the bookstore are staring at them aren’t exactly friendly. The romance-fiction isles are littered with customers around Youngjae’s age, and younger, and Yongguk is damn sure, at least one is bound to recognise them. But for the moment, he stashes that thought away.

“I have found you a date!”

Oh my gods. Bring that thought back. Yoo ing Youngjae.

At this point, Yongguk is literally hiding his face in his palm, out of humiliation than anything, and trudges forward despite the need to bury himself into the ground.

“D’you have a death wish or something?” Yongguk approaches with a hiss, forgetting his ‘date’ for a second there. “And I thought you came here to buy ‘that book you forgot the title to’.” Yongguk quotes with his fingers for good measure.

“Uh, well, actually– hey, wait! Don’t go.” Youngjae yelps after the girl in a shameless manner that made a few girls on the far left giggle. And hold up, is that a camera in their hands, he sees? Yongguk’s thought is completely shoved aside, after he whips his head back to Youngjae to find, in horror, that the kid’s practically dragging her back, and oh god, can this get any worse?

You just don’t do that to a girl– especially if you are trying to hook her up with your friend!

Not that Yongguk will ever agree, of course.

But then, that horror too, is shoved aside when his eyes land on the girl in Youngjae’s deathly clutches for the first time, and gets a heart attack. It’s you.

Yongguk’s mouth falls open, as Youngjae pushes you encouragingly towards him. Oh, crap, he isn’t prepared for this. His eyes flicker to the vocalist helplessly, only to receive nothing but a knowing wink and two extremely exaggerated thumbs up.

Oh god.

Remind him to murder the kid by midnight.

Yongguk swallows, looking down at you, his mouth suddenly goes dry. You’ve changed your attire today. Instead of your dark toned shirts, you’ve swapped them for a white long sleeve, and your jeans aren’t quite as tattered as Yongguk once remembered. Your arms are folded over your chest as you watch him watch you warily. He tries to stop himself from trailing his gaze from your bare neck to the crevices of your collarbones, and–

His voice escapes somberly, “You never called.” A few kids teeter around them, and the scarce few that are their ages aren’t around anymore, which Yongguk is grateful for.

Yongguk had never seen your eyes properly, but now, unlike other times, you are staring straight into his eyes and–

“I was busy,” You mutter that infamous line, your voice soft and airy. He loves your voice.

“For an entire month?” He sounds like a clingy boyfriend already, god.

You purse your lips, before saying carefully. “I’m sorry, but I still need more time.”

For a long moment, both of you just stare at each other, and Yongguk notices how the circles under your eyes don’t resemble bruises so much anymore, and your complexion is no longer a shade of a piece of paper. So for the first time that month, the weight on his shoulders disappear and a genuine smile tugs at his lips.

You seem surprised by this like, you’d been expecting a different reaction.

But Yongguk doesn’t think there is any other choice as pretty as this.

So he shoves his hands in his pockets and says quietly, “I’m not in a hurry,” his eyes are soft when he adds, almost shyly, “You look good.”

You blink at him as if he’s speaking another language, and then a pretty shade of pink coats your cheeks in that cute way that tugs at a memory that hasn’t happened yet. It’s all semantics and he feels all sappy and , but he can’t help it. Saying it’s a nice change is an understatement, when his insides are conducting a frigging carnival.

“Um, thanks.” You mumble, looking about yourself cautiously. When his smile doesn’t ease, you shift uncomfortably, “Will you stop smiling?”

His breath hitches, and then he chuckles, eyes crinkling in amusement, because all the wrongs in the world have been just been righted. Or something.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, earnestly.

Yongguk opens his mouth and, of course, this moment is interrupted by a sudden phone call shrieking so suddenly that both of you jump. You pat your pockets for the phone as Yongguk does the same.

It’s yours.

As you fumble just the same way you did a month ago, your expression falters at the caller ID. Must be that jerk again, Yongguk thinks. Your expression is a struggle and he suppresses the urge to peek at the name, because he could’ve done so easily with the advantage of his height (and insoles).

You ultimately silence it and shove the phone back into your back pocket, muttering a glum apology.

…

Your mood, however, is brightened immensely once Yongguk escorts you into an ice cream parlour instead. He realises he still doesn’t know how old you are exactly, and god, he really should ask.

“So, do you study or– what do you do, exactly?” he starts from there, “Except, uh… you know.”

“Except for always getting stood up?” you finish, a hint of dark humour tugging at your lips.

He winces. “Sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s what I do best, anyway, isn’t it?” A wistful smile decorates your delicate features, although, you won’t meet his eyes.

Something in Yongguk surges, and he blurts out before he can stop himself, “That guy , you know. If he can reduce you into thinking of yourself that way.”

You glance at him confusedly.

“You really don’t know, do you?” You ask, both amused and dry at the same time.

Yongguk blinks. “Know what?”

Shaking your head, you say, “Nothing,” and stop walking, with Yongguk almost bumping into you. Both of you are standing by the banks of the proverbial river that’s about to gobble up the sun.

You, with your hair in a ponytail and the summer wind weaving through the stray strands and ruffling your clothes, spin around to face him. His breath catches.

Maybe it’s the changing of time, or the dimming lights, but your gaze on him are unnaturally intense as you watch him. Yongguk feels as if you’re trying to carve all of him into the back of your eyelids, and so, it takes him everything to restrain himself from doing anything stupid. Especially, when that carnal warmth settles at the base of his spine.

“Thank you,” you say earnestly. “For… concerning yourself with me.”

Without even blinking an eye, he notes. “For really liking you, you mean?”

You flinch, averting your gaze abashedly, “Uh, yeah. That.”

A moment came and went before he speaks up again.

“Don’t thank me,” he smiles, stepping up to you. “It’s not like I did it on purpose…” He, on instinct, reaches out to tug a distracting strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips deliberately brushing against your earlobe. He’s hoping he will be allowed this much, at least. In a daze, Yongguk mutters, more to himself than anyone. “But I guess, that’s how love goes doesn’t it.”

‘It keeps making me want to leave everything behind and start something new.’

[myope]
ORIGIN early 18th cent.: from French, via late Latin from Greek muōps, from muein ‘to shut’ + ōps ‘eye.’