“Oh hey Joshua, come on in,” he handed my phone back to me and I shoved it in my pocket.

These jeans are too tight. Or maybe I’m just bloated. Or maybe Mingyu’s soup is actually full of fattening ingredients that wrestlers use to put on weight. Wonwoo needs it.

Joshua delicately came and sat down crosslegged. How does someone make that look graceful. I always fall over.

He put his bowl on the table and smiled at each of us.

“We were just talking about you,” Wonwoo smiled slyly.

What the f- Wonwoo. I kicked him under this little table and it shook slightly, spilling some of Joshua’s soup.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” I wiped it up with my hands. Now I have hot soup on my hands. Why am I like this.

“Oh dear, I’ll go get us some napkins,” 

What no.

Wonwoo stood up with his bowl, evil smile.

I tried to side-eye him but he looked straight ahead. Trying to keep it in. That little b-.

“So…” Joshua began taking a sip of soup. It went into his mouth ever so slightly. Spilling in like a stream over rocks. How would it feel to spill into that mouth. Oh my god. “I’m sorry. I may have stretched your dress out a bit,” he swallowed.

“It’s fine,” I laughed. My hand is under the table, literally dripping soup. I hope he doesn’t notice. 

He blew on another spoonful. Those little lips making a perfect circle.

“I got it on sale anyway.” 

So far so good. Haven’t said anything embarrassing yet. This is unhealthy.

He tapped his spoon on the bowl.

Was Wonwoo serious about asking him out. You can’t just DO that. You can’t just be like…hey wanna go eat food. Wanna go walk by the river. Wanna hold my hand. Wanna put your mouth on

“mine.”

“What?” he laughed.

Oh my god.

“Mine. It’s mine,” I said.

What’s yours?” he looked confused.

“The pleasure. This pleasure is mine.”

What the actual f- Ellie. I need to leave. I need to go.

“No, actually it’s mine,” he said looking down at his soup. “Getting stuck in the men’s bathroom, changing into a sparkly dress, and running around screaming. That pleasure is definitely mine.” He smiled and reddened slightly.

My heart unclenches. He can make jokes. He can be embarrassed. He’s a human.

The door opened, “mind if I join you?” the little pink one said striding in.

Praise everything that is good in this world. I love you small pink child. I don’t know your name but I appreciate you and your existence more than you could ever know.

“No problem,” Joshua said quickly. 

He took Wonwoo’s old place.

When will Wonwoo come back with the napkins. The soup is almost dry now. It’s just going to be stained red.

“I don’t know if we’ve properly met,” he began, sitting down almost as gracefully as Joshua. “I’m Woozi, leader of the vocal unit,” he bowed slightly. 

“Hi I’m…Ellie,” I bowed in return.

“I know,” he blew on his soup. 

“Joshua, I heard you playing earlier. What was that?” he turned to Joshua.

“Oh you know, just working on my chords. I’m a little rusty.”

I returned to my soup. It’s so good. But I’ve lost my appetite.

“Which chords were they exactly?”

“Um…I don’t remember to be honest. I was just kind of strumming…”
“It sounded like you went from E flat minor 7 to an A flat minor?”

Joshua looked at me smiling, wanting me to agree that this pink Woozi was a musical genius and that he wasn’t.

“Then I think you went to an F,” he said pretending to strum a guitar himself. “But the fourth chord I didn’t catch.That Mario music is so damn loud,” he sighed.

“I’m really sorry Woozi I don’t know the names of the chords—I’m a simple kid,” he said. Wow. He’s actually pretty funny.

“Do you think you could play it again?” Woozi asked in complete seriousness.

“I mean, I can try.” Joshua stood up from the table and grabbed a guitar from the corner. Has that guitar always been there? I don’t remember seeing it when I was passed out in this room. For two days. Granted, I don’t remember a lot.

Oh no. No. No. No. No. No.

Boys and guitars. My ultimate weakness.

This isn’t fair.

Woozi pulled out his phone.

Joshua went into concentration mode. Nothing, and no one, was in this room. Just him and his guitar. Not a musical genius my a-.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” Woozi said holding his phone up to the guitar.

“I’m ready.”

Woozi clicked record and Joshua began strumming. Slowly at first, and then more confidently. His hands are surprisingly big, his delicate fingers able to wrap their way completely around the guitar’s neck. The guitar’s neck Ellie. Not yours. Damn it.

“F major, G major” Woozi whispered with his eyes closed. Joshua stopped. 

“Wait one more time,” Woozi said. 

Joshua started over. Eyes. He’s giving me that look again. Like looking at a puzzle piece that has all the right colors but doesn’t fit in the slot. Like reading a book in another language but you can only catch some of the words. A lot of confusion, but enough sense to be intriguing. To keep going. 

“B flat,” Woozi sat back satisfied, breaking the spell. 

“I’ve got to go back to the company. I’ll see you guys later,” he smiled so big, his eyes were little slits.

“Nice to meet you Ellie,” and he ran out of the room, leaving his full bowl of soup behind.

Joshua put the guitar behind him. 

“We won’t see him for a couple of days now,” he smiled going back to his bowl.

“So it’s true then…you guys really make your own music?”

“It’s true. What you just saw was our next title track,” he winked.

“Really?”

“Not likely,” he laughed. “My little guitar dribbles are more B tracks.” He scrunched his face. “My soup is cold. Yours?”

“Mine is almost gone actually,” I said. My hand is completely dry now. Red stains all the way through my fingers.

“Cool.” He put his bowl inside my empty one, grabbed Woozis, and motioned that we go outside.

Wonwoo met us at the door.

“Oh hey guys how did it go?”

Joshua looked puzzled, decided it wasn’t worth the questioning, and headed to the sink.

“Did you ask him out?” Wonwoo whispered.

Man screams from the living room.

“No I didn’t ask him out are you f- crazy??”

“Come on Ellie. If no one else, do it for me.” I followed him around the corner.

“Do it for you? What does this have to do with you?”

“I’m just curious. What Joshua’s type is. I need to know. It’s for a friend.”

“You want to know if he’ll accept or reject a date with me for your own knowledge?” I sat down on the couch arm.

“Yep. You don’t even have to go out with him if you don’t want to. I just want to know.”

Oh my god.

“Ellie!” Sam shouted from the television. “Should I be Princess Peach or Princess Daisy?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s just…someone I’m close to. Swings that way. He wants to know if Joshua does too.”

“Then why doesn’t he just ask him??” 

“Come on Ellie, which one??” Sam pled, looking over his shoulder, controller in hand.

“It’s not that simple,” Wonwoo sighed. “Plus, if he swings your way, then you’ll get to go on a date.” 

“I can’t ask an idol on a date Wonwoo. It IS that simple.”

“You’re a pretty girl he’s a pretty boy. THAT’S what’s simple.”

“You’re so unhelpful,” Sam muttered, picking Princess Peach.

This is too much.

Suddenly I feel like puking. 

Because what if we did go out. What if we did actually eat food and walk along the river and hold hands and put—

“Hey Converse, you made it.”

A hand around my waist. It tingles.

“Oh hey,” I stepped back.

“Glad you made it. Sorry we couldn’t talk. Seungkwan’s been having trouble.”

Wonwoo disappeared into the background.

“Oh, no problem.”

He handed me my dress and heels. “I believe these are yours.”

.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t find your beanie. It’s in my room somewhere, I just can’t find it—“

“How do you lose something in your…closet?”

“Sorry. I do have your shoes though.”

We headed to the door. I started pulling his real Converse out from underneath Sam’s murse. 

Joshua was at the door. 

“Well, I’m going to go back to the company. I’ve got an idea,” he smiled at me. 

“Wait—pause the game—I’m super hungry,” Sam said from the living room.

This is it. Is it really that simple? Aren’t guys supposed to ask girls out? Isn’t it like, a macho thing? What’s the worse that could happen. He says no. Our relationships is forever awkward. I go home to America. I never see him

“—again.”

“What?” Joshua laughed sliding his shoes on.

The television went silent.

“Again. I want to see you again. I mean.”

It feels like everyone is looking. But are they really?

“Do you wanna like…go…and see something again? with me?”

Oh my god.