You know you're in bad shape when an elderly person on the bus gives up his seat for you. I gave him a grateful nod and sat down, only to be offered an apple by the old man. When I didn't take it, he shook it impatiently.

"I have no money, sir," I said.

Looking highly affronted, he motioned for me to stand again. As the bus began to move I stood, and promptly tumbled over onto an unsuspecting individual. Everyone on the bus stared, but made no move to help. One girl popped her bubblegum, rolled her eyes, and muttered something about "freaks who need a room."

As always, it was a wonderful end to my Friday.

***

Like every Friday evening, the library was essentially empty, save the few poor university (i.e., me) students stuck doing schoolwork. I took my regular seat at my regular table and took out my supplies for the night: my laptop, textbook, and a large stack of paper.

"You from America?"

The chair opposite mine squeaked as it was pulled back. Someone sighed as they sat; obviously, they were just as sore as I was.

"No, I'm not." I looked up from my laptop to see the person I'd fallen on in the bus. "Why do you ask?"

"That textbook is in English," said the person, reaching for my textbook. He flipped through it, eyes narrowed.

I slapped his hand away, making him laugh, and pulled the textbook away from him, setting it in my lap. "And your point is? I could just be taking an English class for all you know."

"It looks like one of my brother's textbooks. He's studying in America— the smartass of the family. Speaks English, wants to become a doctor..." the person trailed off, staring blankly at the back of my laptop. "And I'm just the dumb middle son pursuing an impossible dream of becoming a singer." He then grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "You're too hot to be a nerd, y'know."

"And you're too ugly to be a singer, yet here we are."

"Ouch. Nice one."

I lowered my head, not wanting him to see me smile. "I've had practice."

***

Byunghun frowned, his grip on his coffee growing so strong it seemed he'd break the cup.

"Jack be nimble, Jack be quick," I whispered to our friend Changhyun, "Jack best backpedal after insulting Byunghun's new hair color."

Changhyun sunk down in his seat, making himself seem smaller; obviously, this was subtle body language one could expect from him. The fragile-looking young man on the other side of the table continued to glare at Changhyun as he took a sip of his coffee. Changhyun sunk lower, and Byunghun then smiled as if nothing had happened. The two were quite a confusing pair, but perhaps that was why we had stuck together for so many years.

"I'll have you know I colored it myself," said Byunghun, a haughty tone to his voice. "You, on the other hand, really shouldn't have paid your hairdresser."

"Should've done your eyebrows too," Changhyun muttered.

Byunghun's eyes practically flashed, his smile gone as quick as it came. I immediately stood, digging into my pocket for my wallet. "Anyone want another coffee? No? Just me then? Alright, I'll possibly be back then!" I exclaimed as I hurried away from the two. The line was long, as it always ways on an early Saturday morning, and hopefully by the time (11.3 minutes, if the past 27 times provided enough for an estimate) I'd received my coffee, the fight brewing would've died down.

Old men and women stood around, chatting to their fellow elders, and I felt alone in a sea of temperamental gray-haired people. My order, which was placed after 2.5 minutes of waiting, was a simple one: decaf, lots of milk, lots of sugar. Being a regular, they knew just how much to give me. Now, all I had to do was wait.

More people filed in, more orders were placed, and the time quickly passed 11.3 minutes. Precisely at the 15 minute mark my name, along with another, was called. I went up to get my coffee, paying no attention to whoever was beside me.

The coffee I drank was black. Disgusting.

Beside me, the person promptly went blegh! and turned to me.

"First a bus, and now a coffee shop? I'm starting to think we're soul mates."

The voice was familiar. The face, more familiar.

"Connected by red strings. They may tangle and stretch, but they will never break."

He smiled at my words. "That's what my girlfriend used to say."

We exchanged coffees and went our separate ways. If soulmates existed, and if a red string truly did connect us, we'd meet again. That, it seemed, we agreed upon without speaking of it.

His name was Daniel, I told myself. Daniel, a drinker of coffee bitter and black, the middle sibling, and a singer in training.

***

"Training is the worst."

"I'm one-hundred percent positive college is much worse."

"No, no, no. You're wrong. Completely wrong."

"By your own definition, yes, but by mine?"

"Don't try twisting everything around in your fancy smartass language. Won't work on me."

"It already has."

Daniel stared at me. His expression was blank, unreadable. And then he broke, a grin forming.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Until tomorrow night."

He stood. He waved. He left.

And he still hadn't learned my name.

***

Changhyun made no move to hide his quite obvious staring, and it seemed Chanhee, a friend of Daniel's, didn't mind one bit.

"Nice color," Changhyun said, pointing at the deep red locks atop Chanhee's head. "Do it yourself?"

"Mhmm." Chanhee smiled. "Yours is nice too. Brown suits you."

"Really? You think so? Geez, tell that to Byunghun—"

But Byunghun wasn't paying the slightest bit attention to the two.

"You should really treat those older than you with respect," he practically growled.

Jonghyun, another friend of Daniel's, leaned in close to Byunghun, smirking. "Not if they're shorter than me."

Even in the darkness of the club it was easy to see how Byunghun's entire face reddened, even his ears.

"Excuse us."

They both stood at the same time. Byunghun took the younger by the arm and dragged him away.

"Bet you ten thousand won they're gonna go make out in an alleyway."

I turned in my seat. There stood Niel, face still flushed and chest still heaving, seemingly exhilarated from his performance minutes ago. The cocky grin he always seemed to have was still there.

"That sounds honestly disgusting."

"You ever tried it?"

"No, and I'd prefer to never try it."

"How about a car? Or a bathroom?"

Suddenly he was much closer, and the scent of the expensive drinks the owner of the club had bought for him were warm on my face.

"You need to go home."

"Minsoo."

"I will not be taking advantage of you while you not only are drunk, but have adrenaline quite possibly running through your body, the effects of which could also be fueling you to act in such an abrasive, confident matter."

"God, you and your smartass talk. Justake me home."

***

"Home...home...home... How did I get home?"

He sounded miserable.

Miserable not in the sense of sadness, but in the sense of why-did-I-drink-so-much-last-night-my-head-hurts.

"I brought you home, as you requested."

"Holy ! Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

"As a healthy, active twenty year-old male, I highly doubt you'd have a heart attack."

"Whatever. Were you here all night?"

"Someone had to clean the vomit off of you and wash your sheets."

He grimaced.

"Thanks."

"It's no problem at all."

I sat at the foot of the bed, watching him, gauging his reactions.

"So, uh, we didn't...y'know, do..."

"I'm a bit offended you'd assume I'd take advantage of you in a drunken state."

"No!" He sat right up, not even complaining about the pain he surely must have felt in his head. "I didn't— I mean, I would never assume that!"

"And yet we've known each other for only a few days."

His eyebrows knitted together. Conflict.

"I know! It just...doesn't feel like that. And it's the stupidest thing ever, but..."

He paused.

"But?" I prompted.

The way my heart was beating, at such a fast pace, was distracting.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I do. Many people experience it, but few rarely act on it."

"What happened to the people that did?"

"Well, one woman proposed to a man after knowing him for five hours. He accepted, and they remain married to this day."

"Oh."

He nodded, one hand on the sheets, fingers twirling and tugging on the white fabric.

"Well. I don't want to marry you or anything, considering marriage between two men is illegal and all, but..."

"But what? Please don't leave me in suspense in a moment like this."

Finally, he grinned.

"I would like to propose we date."

"This is the moment where I'd tear up, jump into your arms and exclaim 'yes, yes, of course!' Or...is that not right?"

"It is. But my head hurts too much to do something like that."

"Fair enough, Daniel."

"Fair enough indeed, Minsoo."

We clinked our mugs of coffee together.

This time we both had the right coffee.