Chapter 6 | The Second Man

Saturdays are usually the days Taeyong looks forward to aside from Sunday. He gets off work around lunch on those days and goes to the local market with a smile on his face to pick out fresh meat, fish, vegetables and/or fruits as he thinks of particular main and side dishes to cook for dinner. Being a single parent, Taeyong has to dedicate his time to his job in able to provide for Jaemin, so every single free time he has on his hands are spent with his son. Taeyong loves it, loves it beyond words can ever describe. Sometimes, he wishes he could spend more time with Jaemin but their unfortunate circumstance doesn’t let him.

Just like today, Taeyong had to come home late because of his prior commitment with Nakamoto Yuta. He had agreed to buy art materials that Saturday, considering it was the only time he could go since Sundays are strictly family day. And when he can’t make it, he asks Jaemin to order home cooked dinner from Donghyuck’s parents.

At times, Donghyuck comes by their house to eat with them, especially when Jaemin is by himself just so the latter wouldn’t feel alone. Taeyong doesn’t mind, not one bit. He has known the boy ever since he came back to Seoul. Donghyuck is the one who delivers the orders around the neighborhood through his bicycle from his parents’ private kitchen business. When Jaemin is alone in the apartment, he makes sure to bring extra food for himself, so they could have a meal together.

Taeyong could only sighed, smiling wistfully as he stared out the window glass of the bakery, noticing Yuta making his way through the door. Biting down on his bottom lip, he swiftly grabbed his white tote bag on the counter, walking up with a half-hearted smile to Yuta who, in return, let out a grin so wide Taeyong found it a little uncomfortable. He clutched the strap of his bag that was hanging on his shoulder with both hands, looking down at his pair of shoes like they were the most interesting things in the world.

“Hey, are you ready?” Yuta asked, bending his body a bit to level his line of sight with Taeyong’s. The latter looked up, nodding with a tightlipped smile. Yuta then looked behind him. “Doyoung! We’re gonna go ahead now!”

Dressed in a pastel blue apron, Doyoung’s head peeked out of the kitchen’s entrance, putting his thumbs up in approval. Yuta waved his hand in the air as a sign of departure. At the far end corner of the room, Sicheng waved back enthusiastically when he saw Yuta looked at him before leaving the shop. As the two crossed the street, Sicheng eyes lingered on Taeyong and Yuta longer than necessary, his waving hand in the air retreating slowly to his side.

Taeyong kept a good short distance, trailing behind Yuta who pocketed his keys and opening the passenger’s seat of an orange Hyundai veloster for Taeyong to hop on. Timidly, he settled inside the car, buckling his seatbelt and making himself comfortable. He gets awfully scared around people he just met, but Taeyong reminded himself that Yuta is a friend of Doyoung. If anything, he should be thankful, because the man trusts him enough to order commissioned artwork from him. He should really stop from being paranoid.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Yuta commented as soon as he got on the driver’s seat and put on his seatbelt. “Are you all right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he responded, faking a laugh as he wiped a droplet of sweat that had formed on his forehead. “I-I’m just a little nervous.”

Laughing, Yuta shook his head momentarily, starting the engine. “What’s there to be nervous about?”

“U-Um, nothing,” Taeyong said shyly, fanning himself with his hand. “I just get really nervous around new people. Please, don’t mind me, Mr. Nakamoto.”

“Drop the honorifics. Yuta is fine.”

“Then, you can call me Yongie, too.”

“So, how long have you been doing art?” They took a turn on left, driving ahead the pretty busy highway of the district.

“Um, I started back when I was in middle school.”

“Woah, that's a long time ago. No wonder Doyoung referred me to you. You must have a godlike skills, then.”

“That’s not it,” Taeyong denied, his blood rushing through his cheeks in embarrassment. “I stopped drawing and painting after high school.”

“I see.” Yuta nodded in understanding.

“This friend of yours,” Taeyong started, “he must be very important for you to do this for him.”

Yuta glanced meaningfully at Taeyong then focused his eyes on the road as they made another turn before stopping at a red light. “Yeah, we go all the way back in high school. He was the first friend I made here in Korea. We both went to an international high school.”

Taeyong nodded. “Doyoung and I went to the same high school, too. We were like best of friends, even now.”

“I know,” Yuta said, “he’s told me a lot about you.”

Taeyong tensed up in his seat. Doyoung couldn’t have told everything about himself to Yuta, could he? Taeyong noticed Yuta was smiling without a care in the world, but he couldn’t brush off the feeling of anxiety creeping in.

“Uh, what exactly has he told you about me?” he trailed off as he stared ahead down the road, his curiosity set ablaze. Ever-so-lightly, he shifted his eyes before him to the man seated next to him.

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise me you won’t rat me out to him, alright?” Taeyong muttered a small ‘yeah,’ agreeing to the deal. “He used to have the biggest crush on you. I know you know that already, but it actually lasted for a while. You’re always the topic of our conversation, it’s crazy. Halfway freshman year though, we’d still go out drinking, and sometimes he’d still tell me about you but no longer about his unreciprocated feelings.”

Hearing from Yuta that Doyoung had a crush on him didn’t surprise Taeyong at all. He knew his best friend had always had a more than just platonic feelings for him. Initially, he thought that the late night talks on weekends, sharing of food during lunch time, and study dates after cram school were all because of the best friend privilege he had. It was normal for someone to receive special treatment from a best friend. He overlooked the longing stares, subtle touches, and wistful smiles, thinking that Doyoung probably just cherished him, like how a kid looks up to his older brother.

When he had his first boyfriend, his first love, the distance Doyoung kept between the both of them was so noticeable, so obvious that even their mutual friends in high school noticed it as well. It saddened Taeyong, but he knew he couldn’t be selfish. He knew that his best friend needed time to take everything in. So although it was hard for him, Taeyong let Doyoung be for some time. Eventually, the latter moved on, and they patched up the friendship they thought will no longer be the same. However, the time only seemed to strengthen the bond they once had.

“I know that already,” he murmured under his breath, “he came clean to me when we started hanging out again after we stopped talking.”

“Really?” Yuta glanced at him, taking his gaze off of the road for a second before turning it back, smiling. He couldn’t believe it. Doyoung actually had the guts to confess his unrequited love? On top of it, why didn’t Doyoung tell him? “He never mentioned anything to me.”

“He probably was just over it?”

“Probably.”

After that, silence took over them. Sensing that Taeyong was feeling a bit awkward due to the atmosphere, Yuta the radio to halfway through the first verse of the song called I Believe, a smooth, slow-paced, romantic ballad that used to be the song a certain someone would sing him to sleep. It was a soundtrack of a film series he loved back when he was eighteen. And that certain someone used to hate it. Now though, Taeyong hates it, or at least that’s what he wants to feel; to hate the song⁠—because it seemed like the song is speaking about what he’s going through. And as much as it does, he doesn’t want to feel that. He wants to forget everything and move on, something he’s yet to do with Jaemin.

Overwhelmed by the emotion as the first note sounded within the car, Taeyong impulsively reached for the radio and switched the station, not wanting nostalgia to completely wash over him. With ragged breath, something Yuta took notice of, Taeyong shifted in his seat and watched the scenery outside the window.

Yuta cleared his throat. “”Have you eaten?”

Taeyong shook his head in response.

“All right, let’s head to this Japanese restaurant my friend owns. They have the best authentic Japanese food I know in Seoul.”

“No, it’s fi—”

“Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

“It’s not that,” Taeyong muttered in distress, fidgeting his fingers in nervousness, glancing hesitantly at the Japanese guy. “I-I just can’t. You’re being too kind to me.”

Yuta slowed down the car and then parked it for a moment. Filled with empathy, he sighed and turned his body where Taeyong had been sitting. A smile—it was all Yuta could offer to the man covered in black face mask. His gaze lingered at Taeyong, and he thought, if the word beautiful could be personified, then Taeyong would be the best person to embody it, together with his fading black hair, charming small gestures, and expressive dark brown eyes.

“Hey,” Yuta called but Taeyong didn’t budge. The latter just stared at his now intertwined hands. “Can I ask for a favor?”

This time, Taeyong looked at Yuta in confusion with furrowed eyebrows.

“I want you to be comfortable with me,” Yuta asked, careful not to scare Taeyong away. “Could you do that for me?”

“W-Why?” Taeyong countered. “We’ve only known each other for about a week and met only twice.”

“That’s true. However,” Yuta fired back, “I feel like I’ve known you for years through Doyoung’s stories about you. I’ve always looked forward to meeting you, but our schedules always clash, so Doyoung didn’t really got to introduce us to each other. Because of those, I feel really comfortable around you so I want you to feel the same.”

Reluctantly, Taeyong gazed at Yuta, nodding his head with a small smile playing on his lips. “O-Okay.”

“Doyoung has also told me about your...scar,” Yuta spoke carefully, feeling the other man tense in his seat. “And I know you’re really conscious about it, but there’s no way I’m letting that get in the way. You need to it..”

Silence.

“So, I’ll just rent a private room for the two of us,” Yuta continued.

Taeyong’s head perked up. “W-What? That’s too much!”

Chuckling Yuta replied, “Don’t worry. I’m friends with the owner, remember?”

“O-Okay...”

After driving around for about twenty minutes, they arrived at a fairly luxurious restaurant. Taeyong almost backed out. There was no way he could afford dining there, since it would probably cost him his entire month of salary. However, because of Yuta’s insistency, he agreed to eat there with him. Plus, Yuta’s friend, the owner of the restaurant, Matsumoto Jun, was friendly enough and gave them a secluded room where Taeyong could enjoy his food without being stared at. One thing the latter has always hated is the judging eyes from other people because of the nasty scar he got from a couple of years back. It’s one of the reasons why he never forgets to wear masks, even at work. Fortunately, the majority of the customers at Young Bakeshop were more understanding and sympathetic than spiteful.

Getting taunted and insulted are two of the things Taeyong have tried to become accustomed to, yet no matter how much effort he puts into being tough, the moment he hears either a group of people snickering behind his back with their eyes fixated on him, innocent kids curiously asking him questions about the mask, or anything of the sort aforementioned, he dies a little inside. And it happens a little too much.

“Hey,” Yuta called out, snapping Taeyong out of his reverie, “you okay there?”

With a faint smile, Taeyong nodded as the waiters served them a wide variety of Japanese cuisine such as tempura, okonomiyaki, takoyaki, different kinds of katsu and ramen, udon, sushi, and sashimi, paired with hot, authentic and fresh red tea. He gawked at the large amount of food sitting in front of him as Yuta thanked the server and snapped a finger in front of his face.

“This is too much,” Taeyong said worriedly, gripping the pair of wooden chopsticks on the table.

“Just eat. If we can’t finish it, let’s just take out all the remaining food.”

Taeyong nodded dumbly. “My son—he likes Japanese food, so I think that wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“Oh,” Yuta said with a sudden realization as he took dipped a piece of tempura into tentsuyu sauce before taking a large bite, “Doyoung has mentioned him to me. From what I’ve heard from him, your son seems like a very responsible and reliable kid.”

“He is,” Taeyong agreed proudly.

“I’m sure he must’ve gotten those traits from his father.”

Taeyong smiled. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he wants to disagree with the remark. That’s impossible, he thought, but he didn’t say anything. He doesn’t know the man too well. And sometimes, it’s better when only a few people know what you have in store to avoid mayhem.

“Probably.”

Without a single idea what was going on through Taeyong’s mind, Yuta chuckled at the response.

“Say, Yuta,” Taeyong started, “how much has Doyoung told you about me?”

“Okay, I know I said he’s told a lot about you, but that’s an exaggeration. I just want you to be comfortable with me.” Yuta wiped his lips with a napkin. “Frankly, the only time he’s talked about you to me was when he still had feelings for you. If I were to sum up all of the conversation we’ve had about you, the only thing I really know about you is you’re a single parent, you had an accident hence the scar, you can paint and draw. The rest, Doyoung’s undying love for you.”

At that, Taeyong was able to sign in relief.

“You know, Doyoung isn’t really that much of a talker unless he’s drunk, and those information I got from him about you were during his drunk episodes.”

Relieved, Taeyong shoved a piece of okonomiyaki in his mouth, chewing slowly as he watched the man across from him. He was glad that none of his secrets are actually out and could finally stop worrying and overthinking over nothing. He still might give Doyoung a good smacking on Monday, though.

By the time they were done, all of the plates were wiped out of food. Yuta insisted on ordering takeaway to bring home to Jaemin, which Taeyong wholeheartedly tried to decline. It would’ve been completely fine to bring home extra food had they had leftovers but for Yuta to order more because they were able to finish their meal? That was beyond too much, and he couldn’t really just take advantage of him. But to the Japanese man’s insistency yet again, Taeyong gave in.

The two of them rest for a bit before driving for another ten minutes to the mall. They bought different painting materials such as wide variety of paint brushes and acrylic paints, artist palette, varnish, and a twenty-four by thirty-two blank canvass.

“Okay,” Yuta said as they got out of the shopping mall, fishing his wallet out, taking a picture out and showing Taeyong a candid photo of a man striking a pose, “so this is what I want you to paint.”

Taeyong just wishes his painting skills hasn’t deteriorated yet, since it’s been so long since the last time he painted. This is his first painting commission, and he only started drawing again two weeks ago. Lack of money was the main reason he stopped doing art. Instead of buying art materials for his supposed dream, he decided to drop everything all together to provide for Jaemin and himself. It wasn’t like he was getting anywhere, anyway. He realized that being in the field of arts means uncertainty when it comes to generating income. However, Doyoung, being the best friend that he is, didn’t want him to stop doing what he loves, so the latter decided to give Taeyong a computer where he could create digital artworks, of which Taeyong was very thankful for.

“All right.” Taeyong nodded solemnly. He took the picture and stared, examining the elements before keeping it deep in his pockets. It looked like it was taken in a dance showcase with all the lights and stage decoration from what Taeyong could see. The guy, Ten, was pulling a signature fourth position from the fundamental dance position with one of his hands slightly curved like an opening, welcoming his head while his other hand pushed forward with the same formation as the other.

Taeyong knew Jaemin was also against his decision to stop doing art. His son didn’t want him to think that he had to give up on his dream just to be able to move onto greener pastures. Art was one of the things that makes him happy, and seeing him do it again makes Jaemin genuinely happy as well. At the same time, Jaemin is a little worried, because Taeyong is getting back at something he swore he was going to leave behind. And Jaemin knew that his father is one who never backs out on his words unless necessary.

“Shall we go, Yongie?” Yutas asked as Taeyong nodded, pulling a genuine smile. Yuta then guided him down the steps, offering his hand which Taeyong hesitantly took.

Stretched, far, and wide, the sun gracefully hid behind the clouds, setting in the magnificent horizon as it emitted an intense fiery hue that gave life to the chilly March of Seoul, contrasting the cold, unfriendly weather that’s been there for months. Slowly but surely, Seoul welcomed the darkness as the last stream of light from the sun disintegrated into nothingness, giving the bustling city the time to shine on its own with its city lights.

Situated on the merged rooftop of two apartment buildings separated by a long staircase, a long picnic table sat beside a makeshift tent made out of long, pastel blue blanket hanging on a thread whose each end was tied to two opposing light posts, creating a triangular prism. Each side of the blanket had different random objects supporting the tent, while another blanket lay on the floor with blue pillows.

The rooftop overlooks the nightlife of Seoul under the few clouds in the sky that block the shimmer of the stars in heaven, whereas the moon shone brightly in its place respective place, unbothered. Although the temperature that early night was a little unfriendly, it didn’t stop Jaemin from hanging out with his best friend, Donghyuck, and his new friend who he’s known for about a year now, Zhong Chenle.

He and Chenle set up the table with the dishes Donghyuck delivered to his house which the three of them ordered, while the latter sat on one of the benches, texting.

Chenle, despite having second thoughts, joined the two when he received a text from Donghyuck, inviting him to a small picnic on the rooftop of Jaemin’s apartment building. He was just chilling at home earlier when he finished his Saturday classes and had nothing better to do except play the secondhand piano his father got him. He thought, Jaemin and Donghyuck aren’t such bad company, and they’re becoming friends now since the first day incident. So, he told his parents that he was just going to go out with some friends and will be coming back a little later. His parents even wanted to drop him off.

Jaemin placed the tray containing three cups of hot tea on the table, settling himself across Donghyuck and Chenle, gawking at his best friend’s dumb giggling. The former was preoccupied with his phone, staring longingly at his phone before letting out a long, wishful sigh, forming a small cloud under his lips.

He and Chenle exchanged puzzled looks before the latter crept behind Donghyuck, taking a peak on the phone.

Don’t skip your dinner! the first text that Donghyuck sent read.

“‘Don’t skip your dinner’?” Chenle read innocently, looking at Jaemin. “Who’s he texting, Jaemin-hyung?”

“Hey!” Donghyuck exclaimed, retreating his phone from the others’ predatory eyes. He had sent more than five messages now, and Mark hadn’t replied or at least bothered to reply even a single message. As he placed both of his elbows on the table, putting his face in between his hands, covering his mouth, he asked himself, is he busy? But what could possibly be keeping Mark Lee preoccupied at this very hour?

He’s probably asleep by now, Donghyuck thought. No, it’s way too early for him to be sleeping right now.

Jaemin chucked at that, sipping his hot cup of tea delicately with two of his hands withdrawn inside his orange sweater, supporting the mug. “It’s probably Mark Lee.”

“You have a crush on Mark-hyung?” Chenle asked wide-eyed. “He seems like a closed-off person.”

“Since tenth grade, actually,” Jaemin stated as a matter of fact. “And don’t dare say anything bad about Mark Lee, he’ll go crazy.”

“Hey!” Donghyuck yelled at Jaemin, “Just because you have someone like Lee Jeno chasing after you, doesn’t mean you can make fun of me for chasing after Mark, okay?!”

“What the fu—” Jaemin stared at his best friend incredulously. “You’re so disgusting. Jeno looks like Stonehenge, and he has a horrible temper. I would never have a crush on someone even remotely close to him.”

That was a complete lie. As much as Jaemin wants to convince himself that Lee Jeno is ugly inside and out, he can’t. Ugly on the inside, yeah. On the outside, though? Far from that. With those sharp and defined jawlines, tall, pointed nose, pair of glistening lips, antagonistic eyebrows, beady pair of dark, brown eyes, milky skin, and muscular frame, that guy is like a God that walked on earth among mortals. His eyes are always ablaze that they could be from Hwadeok Jingun himself.

Only if Lee Jeno didn’t have the level of narcissistic tendencies, he would’ve probably admit that yeah, Lee Jeno is indeed drop dead gorgeous and has that James Dean vibe with those eyes. Unfortunately, the only James-Dean-like trait he got was the teenage rebel and angst.

“And don’t even get me started with you, Zhong Chenle,” Donghyuck continued, “I saw you last week at the cram school with Park Jisung! You were all acting cute and shy around him! Don’t think I didn’t see it!”

“What?” Chenle asked in embarrassment. “How did you even know that?”

“I happened to be passing by your cram school because I was delivering some order. I didn’t get to say hi because I was really in a rush. Plus, it looked like the both of you needed some time by yourselves.”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Chenle reasoned out, trying to hide his face by looking down. He then started fidgeting. “I was in the library one time, and he came up to me. He apologized for what Lee Jeno did and said he wanted to treat me to make up for it. Obviously, I declined, and he was like, ‘okay, cool.’ We kind of went back to what we were after that, like acquaintances. Then last week, when I was dismissed from cram school, he was at the gate, waiting for me. I was like, ‘what are you doing here?’And he was like, ‘I’m from around here.’ And I thought to myself, ‘there’s no way he’s from here because I always see him coming from the other way on his way home.’”

“And then?” Donghyuck asked curiously, all ears.

“He was like, ‘hey, since we coincidentally see each other, it would be such a waste if you don’t let me treat you as an apology for my Jeno-hyung’s behavior.’ Of course I was still like, ‘no, it’s all right.’ But he was like, ‘come on.’ The next thing I knew, he was already standing close to me. He basically grabbed my wrist and dragged me to this really expensive restaurant. I don’t even know how he could manage to spend so much. It’s ridiculous.”

“He’s totally into you,” Donghyuck concluded, his face dumbstruck in realization, pointing his finger at Chenle repeatedly.

Chuckling lightly, Jaemin shook his head. It was the first time he heard Chenle talk that long. Suddenly, the cheap, old phone in Jaemin’s possession rang through his pocket. Hushing his friends by settling his right index finger on his lips, while his other hand placed the phone on his left ear, he answered the call.

Nana, the man on the other line greeted calmly.

“Pa!” Jaemin answered back, “Are you on your way back now?”

I’m actually inside the apartment now. I mentioned you to my client, and he insisted on buying takeaway for our dinner. Where are you, by the way? Taeyong replied, struggling to undress and change into more comfortable clothes because of the phone in his hand.

“I’m with Haechan and another friend at the rooftop. We ordered food from Mr. and Mrs. Lee, and we’re actually having dinner right now. Please, join us, Papa,” Jaemin responded, rubbing his left arm through the cotton fabric of his sweater as a gust of wind swept right pass the table.

All right, hold on just a second. Lemme just change, and I’ll be there. I’ll also bring these takeaways, Taeyong said on the line. He then ended the call, throwing his phone on the futon as he changed into a pair of pajamas.

“Was that Uncle Yongie?” Donghyuck asked, chewing on kimbap.

“Yeah, he’ll be joining us in a minute. He said his client ordered takeaways for the both of us, so he figured we could share it with you guys.”

“Client?”

“I’ve told you Papa went back on painting and drawing, right?” Jaemin asked. “Well, there’s this Japanese man who requested for a painting of his friend. This Japanese man is actually a college friend of Uncle Doyoung, and I think he’s really...kind.”

“What’s your basis?”

“Papa doesn’t have any art material, because he stopped painting a long time ago. And this man, who knew Papa for literally more or less than a week, went out of his way just to buy Papa art materials. Not only that, he was the one who took Papa out and drove him to the mall for those materials, he treated him food and even ordered takeaways for us,” Jaemin narrated.

“Oh my God,” Donghyuck suddenly squealed on his seat, moving his head closer to where Jaemin sat, “that man is totally into Uncle Yongie!”

“Uh, no.” Jaemin waved his hand off. “Haechan, kindness does not equate romantic feelings.”

“Why are you so against the idea?” Donghyuck countered, playfully slamming his fist on the table with a childish pout. “Don’t you want Uncle Yongie to be happy?”

“Wow, okay. I’m totally up for Papa getting into a relationship if it’d make him happy, and I’m not against that idea either. It’s just I’m trying to be as realistic as possible. They barely know each other. I’m not against the idea of having another father as well, if in any case Papa gets into a relationship,” Jaemin said. “You’re reading into this way too deep. They’ve only gone out once. It’s too early to come up with that conclusion. That man is literally just Papa’s client.”

“I agree,” Chenle spoke after hearing both of his friends’ sentiments, nodding his head at Jaemin’s statement as he took a sip of his tea.

“Fine, jeez, no need to be defensive,” Donghyuck muttered. “Stop ganging up on me.”

“On a completely different note,” Chenle started, looking at Jaemin, “that’s so cool, Hyung, that your father is an artist. I want to be in the field of arts, as well, but my parents are pushing me to take business courses in college. What was his degree in college?”

“Uh, Papa never went to college.” Jaemin smiled.

“Oh,” Chenle said in surprise, “sorry for asking.”

“It’s fine.”

“Hey kids!” a voice sounded from a distance. “I brought some food. Do you mind if I join?”

“Uncle Yongie!” Donghyuck stood up, motioning for Taeyong to sit beside Jaemin with a boyish grin. “Of course we don’t”

“Papa, this is Zhong Chenle,” Jaemin spoke, introducing the boy across from his seat. “He’s our classmate and our new friend.”

“Hello, Chenle,” Taeyong greeted with a friendly smile, placing on the table all the food from the eco bag he was holding.

Getting up from his seat and bowing at Taeyong as a sign of respectful acknowledgment, Chenle said, “Good evening, Mr. Na.”

“I’m not Mr. Na.” Taeyong smiled genuinely. “I’m Mr. Lee, but you can just call me Uncle Yongie.”

Mystified, Chenle leisurely took his seat with his brows completely furrowed, in utter confusion for the rest of the night as it dragged itself away under the starry Seoul sky, welcoming the daylight.