Mamihlapinatapai
Noun. A look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin. It is that look across the table when two people are sharing an unspoken but private moment. When each knows the other understands and is in agreement with what is being expressed. An expressive and meaningful silence.

***

Mamihlapinatapi. He has never had a word to describe the look that passes between them whenever this happens, but now Kyung does. He’s seated across the table from Jiho and his current girlfriend, just politely eating instead of spending any real effort into making conversation. It’s not like he’ll get anything out of a conversation with Jiho here and Kyung’s not particularly interested in Jiho’s new girlfriend. He has nothing against her; she’s probably a nice person, probably caring and understanding, because who else would be able to stand Jiho’s obsessive workaholic behaviour? It’s either that or Jiho’s actually crazy enough about this girl to cut time off work for her, which is a possibility that Kyung doesn’t really want to entertain. So he sticks to stuffing his face full of rice and meat, ignoring the look Jiho gives him every once in a while, remembering to at least reply the girl when she takes the initiative to ask him questions.

“That was rude,” Jiho says. It’s the first thing he says to Kyung after the dinner’s ended. It’s over the phone, but Kyung doesn’t need to see Jiho to know that he’s probably frowning, eyes stern and mouth hard. He balances his phone between his ear and shoulder, sighing as he sits down on his bed. Folding laundry would have to wait.

Unlike the looks that frequently pass between them, whether they’re in studio practising, recording, outside for performances or on stage for concerts, Kyung doesn’t quite have a name for this thing they have. This thing they are. Best friends is something they were in maybe late primary school, early middle school, acquaintance is too far removed for how close they have to be when working in Block B, group mate is too business-like for how they hang out outside of group activities, and buddies implies that they actually have more than that one time they gave each other sloppy s when they were both too drunk. Ssome is probably the closest word Kyung can think of to describe this, but it’s usually used for people who are almost dating but not quite – not exactly what he is with Jiho – and besides, it doesn’t quite capture the level of stalemate they’re at. So Kyung still doesn’t know what they are exactly; doesn’t have a word to describe whatever is between them.

He does, however, know enough about the contours of this thing to know how Jiho’s going to react when he says what he’s going to say next, but it doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

“Rude is asking me to have dinner with you and your new girlfriend.”

Jiho makes that little sound of exasperation like Kyung expected he would, before he replies tiredly, “Is it so wrong of me to want two of the important people in my life to meet each other, maybe get to be friends?”

It’s not wrong, Kyung thinks, but he’s sick of this, this thing where they exchange mamihlapinatapai across the table, looks imbued with meaning and things unspoken, but never actually talking about anything because they’re both too chicken to. So he chooses the easiest way out.

“I didn’t know I was important to you.”

Kyung hears the long sigh Jiho gives on the other side of the phone. There’s a long pause during which Kyung has to check if Jiho accidentally hung up, but eventually Jiho mumbles, “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” If he was holding his breath waiting for Jiho to say something else, Kyung’s the only one to know. After all, he’s only being an idiot if he’s still hoping for anything at this point when it has long been established that they’re both cowards, or this thing wouldn’t have gone on as what it is for so long.

It wasn’t always like this. There didn’t used to be so much tension in the air whenever they are alone, Kyung thinks. It’s just the two of them right now, in front of the cameras, waiting for the director’s instructions for a CF filming. It’s part of a teaser, showing Kyung and Jiho in what might be the beginnings of a fight. Waiting for the cue to start shooting, Kyung exchanges basic conversation with Jiho, things like Your makeup needs to be touched up or How do you want to do those poses they want?, but underneath all these work talk, he’s aware of Jiho looking at him when he’s not looking, the stare from Jiho’s piercing eyes an itch on his back whenever he turns. Kyung ignores it, pushes it down like he’s always done, and avoids Jiho’s eyes. It’s only when the shooting starts and the director calls for Kyung and Jiho to look at each other does Kyung finally bring his face up to meet Jiho’s eyes.

“Stare at each other like you want to fight, and you can even push each other a little,” the director instructs, motioning for the cameras to roll.

Kyung nods, moving to position in front of Jiho. They briefly glare at each other, before Jiho lunges forward, grabbing fistfuls of Kyung’s shirt. He was expecting the movement, but then Jiho’s suddenly coming too close to his face, still moving from the momentum of his earlier steps, and Kyung’s arms come up to hold Jiho’s chest away from him. He doesn’t expect that to stop Jiho so suddenly that he accidentally pulls Kyung towards him instead, and their faces almost come into contact before Jiho quickly loosens his grip on Kyung’s shirt.

“Cut! Again!”

The second try doesn’t go any better than the first, Jiho taking two steps towards Kyung with his body leaning forward, neck sticking out in a bid to be intimidating but really just bringing his face uncomfortably close to Kyung’s. He can feel the warm air from Jiho’s exhales, and Kyung quickly braces himself to push Jiho, hoping to get a good take so he won’t have to keep repeating this.

“Again! Stare at each other, fight with your eyes first before you push this time.”

Rotating his neck for something to do more than to get any cricks out, Kyung mentally prepares himself for the staring contest he’ll have to do with Jiho, trying to keep his mind blank of anything but wanting to stare Jiho down. When the director calls them to start, Kyung meets Jiho’s eyes with an equally strong glare of his own, his feet moving forward unconsciously in a bid to match up to Jiho’s taunting steps towards him. Kyung has a moment to think, I’m not going to back out of this staring contest first, before Jiho’s face is suddenly in his, and their foreheads touch for a moment.

Jiho’s eyes narrow, and Kyung feels the urge to look away rise in him, but he pushes that thought down. He’ll not back down this time. He’s meeting Jiho gaze for gaze, and Kyung thinks maybe Jiho’s going to be one to back down this time. He’s not even sure why he’s so intently focused on this staring match until Jiho suddenly pushes him, enough force used that Kyung stumbles a little backwards.

“Push Jiho back,” the director yells off-camera, and Kyung quickly leans in, picks up speed as he throws his body weight against Jiho.

“Cut! That was good!”

Kyung thinks that’s the end of that, that he can get out of this place and the close proximity to Jiho, but the director shouts again.

“Now a close up! Grab each other’s collars hard and stare like you want to fight.”

Kyung holds back his protest, gritting his teeth so he won’t seem like he’s being difficult. He can do this. It’s just another take, he can survive this. So Kyung gets ready to pull at Jiho’s collar. When the cameras start rolling again, he brings his hands up with the single-minded goal of grabbing Jiho. He looks up, ready to glare, but Jiho’s hands come up to his face instead of his chest. And instead of the collar grab they’re supposed to do, Jiho places his hands gent