“Uh-huh.”

     “And he was in all black, you know how I don't really like that style, but he,” Youngjae paused to emphasis some point known only to him, nodding his head. “he definitely pulled it off. His hair was black, too. That sleek kind of black you can only get from the salon. More of a raven, really.”

     “Yeah.”

     “Does he sound familiar to you? I mean, I'm sure I've seen him somewhere before, looking back on it.” then again, it could be wishful thinking on his part.

     Jongup sighed, pulling a few plates down from the cupboard to set the table as his wife cooked dinner. “Look, Youngjae.” he started. “Do you know how many stylish, black haired, pale skinned men are in this country?”

     There's a long silence in the kitchen as Youngjae seems to be thinking-- over thinking. “So he does sound familiar. And the hair was raven. Not black. God, were you even listening?”

     With another sigh, Jongup shook his head, dismissing the incessant chatter of Youngjae. He loved his friend, he really did. He wouldn't invite him over for dinner every Sunday if he didn't like him. But sometimes, he could be a real handful.

     See, Youngjae had this certain obsession with love. More specifically, love at first sight. He'd been that way since they were just little kids; saying that when he met his future wife he'd know right away he was supposed to marry her. He had a habit of kissing girls and saying they 'weren't her' when they squealed and ran off.

     A lot had changed since then. They were no longer kids and Youngjae no longer kisses girls.

     Even though Mrs. Right had turned into Mr., Youngjae continued to search and search for that person to take his breath away before they even spoke. Jongup thought this was a pretty strange thing, considering every time Youngjae had found 'the one'-- which was more than you'd probably guess-- he was bored of them in a matter of weeks. He had long since realized that his friend was in love with love, merely the idea of it, but he still thought it odd.

     “Did you get his name?” Jongup's wife asked as she brought the meal she'd prepared over to the table.

     Youngjae only smiled and shook his head. “No. I don't need one... It's fate. I can feel it.”

     The young couple had heard this exact phrase many, many times before. They simply absently agreed, and no one pressed the subject any further.

     It's raining the first time he meets him.  

     And Youngjae just had to pick this day, of all days, to do his laundry. It was cold and dreary and he hated it, but he had a job interview in the morning and the only nice clothes he had smelled too deeply of his cologne to wear. He didn't know if the person that would be interviewing him had an allergy-- or maybe it would be a woman and he coincidentally wears her ex's scent. He didn't want to offend anyone like that. He really needed this job.

     He was over-thinking again. Jongup had warned him about it, ever since he saw that stranger on the street. It may have been him refusing to let a possible soulmate go, but he really could not stop thinking about that day. It had been nearly two months. The seasons were changing. He should be changing, too.

     But he wasn't. He was the exact same as he always was. He wanted nothing more than to settle down, but perhaps his standards were too high. He didn't want to have to lower them.

     The laundromat is a huge improvement from the outside, where Youngjae had just gotten soaked to the bone from only a few moments of being in the downpour, but not much. It's grimy and dilapidated. The paint is peeling off the walls, and the machines are all a sickening combination of rustic orange and taupe.  There are a couple of benches and a few tables for folding laundry, but not much else resides in the room.

     At first, Youngjae doesn't see him. He's too distracted by his chilled skin and how he was going to get all the baskets of laundry from his car into the building. He really had too many clothes.

     He decides, first, to pick a washer and load his change into it. But as he's about to slide the first coin in, a voice stops him.

     “That one will eat all your money.”

     Suddenly, there's a presence behind him, and somehow Youngjae knows whom it is before he turns around. His heart stops just like before because it is him. But this time his breath hitches too because, damn did this man smell nice.

     “There's really only a few machines that work.” his voice is deep. “Well, consistently. They all have their moments.” his voice is deep.

     Youngjae only nods, muttering something about how he'll be back, even though it shouldn't really matter to the stranger whether he returns or not. He doesn't miss the chuckle as he walks briskly away. He doesn't miss how it's even deeper than that sinful voice.

     Instead of actually going back inside, he decides to out and go to his usual laundromat, despite how much he hated driving in the rain.

     “Jongup. Jongup, I saw him again.” Youngjae is sure he sounds like a teenage girl talking about a celebrity crush, but he couldn't really bring himself to care.

     “Who?” God, was this kid really that dense! Youngjae was only talking about the man he was going to spend the rest of his life with. The man he saw all those weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds ago and made all that time stand still.

     “Him.” he hissed through the phone.

     “Oh.” Jongup seemed a little distracted, but Youngjae didn't really give a rat's if he was busy or not because he was caught between having a mental breakdown and squealing in delight.

     “Oh? That's it?”

     “Youngjae, you don't even know if this guy is gay or not.”

     The elder of the two drew his mouth into a straight line, trying to keep annoyance out of his tone. Jongup always seemed to play that card whenever Youngjae developed a crush.

     “Really wish you wouldn't say like that.” he sighed, mood immediately deflating. “I mean, when you met Sunhwa, did I remind you that she might be a lesbian? you, really.”

     Jongup knew Youngjae wasn't really all that angry with him, so he just sighed and apologized immediately because, really, it was a dumb thing to say. “Did you get at least his name this time?”

     The silence that boomed through the line told Jongup everything that Youngjae hadn't done.

     “Are you ing kidding me, Yoo Youngjae?”

     “Third time's the charm?” he tried, laughing nervously. In his defense, he really was caught off guard. He'd be ready the next time. And there would be a next time, he was sure of it.

     It was fate.

     The first time Youngjae finds him, it has very little to do with fate.

     Considering the fact that most people set aside a certain day to wash their clothes, especially if they had to leave their own home to do so, Youngjae figures if he hangs out at the laundromat every Saturday, he's sure to run into that handsome stranger again.

     Those three Saturdays that were left uneventful were near hell for Youngjae. The hours were spent messing around on his phone and avoiding all calls and messages. He'll answer them when he's sure that he won't be occupied with finally getting to know someone 'new'.

     Each time the door opened to expose a rush of cool air, Youngjae's head lifts to observe. Although he tried to keep it casual, he's sure he's glaring at all of the unfamiliar faces passing by because they are not him.

     But on the fourth Saturday, Youngjae is about to give up and go home for the day. Really, the only good thing that has come out of these trips is that his clothes are perpetually clean.

     “Back so soon?” a voice chided. A shiver of familiarity ran down his spine and, once again, he knew who was speaking before he lifted his eyes. When had the door opened? Was he really that engrossed in his game of solitaire that he didn't notice his true love walk through the door?

     Youngjae's reply sounded a hell of a lot calmer and casual than he felt. “So you remember me?”

     The stranger simply smirked. “And you remember me.”

     . Youngjae hadn't been expecting him to be so witty. He didn't know how to reply because, yes he did remember him all too well, so he didn't reply at all. Still, the prospect of being remembered had Youngjae's mind in a whirl.

     They were all alone. Youngjae couldn't panic and leave this time because his clothes were on their fourth cycle and still not dried. He figured he'd have about an hour, two if he rewashed the clothes from earlier.

     “Himchan.” the other man said suddenly, not bothering too turn his attention away from shoving all of his clothes in a washer he deemed fit.

     “Huh?” Youngjae's thoughts were broken, but he didn't really mind. It took a short moment for him to gather them back and realize what the other said. “Oh. That's your name?”

     The stranger-- Himchan-- simply chuckled and nodded. “Yes. Kim Himchan.”

     Youngjae wanted to slap himself silly for how lame he was acting. He didn't even think to return the favor of a name until Himchan laughed and teased about it.

     “Yoo Youngjae.”

     There's a long moment in which Himchan seems to be trying to remember something, and Youngjae's thinking of ways to calm himself down. They're both lost in thought until Himchan seemingly shakes it off and attempts small talk.

     Youngjae really can't believe it. This man walked straight from his dreams and into his life, and now he was actually speaking to him. It's been months since that first day on the street. It's almost surreal to him.

     Pretty soon, Youngjae has Himchan laughing at some random story from yesterday. It surprises him how well they're able to get along right off the bat. He finds that it's not hard to make Himchan laugh, and that he likes it. It's a lot higher than his voice, and some may even find it annoying, but Youngjae thinks it's pretty and whimsical and downright endearing because no one laughs at his stories like this. Except maybe Jongup, but he didn't really count.

     “Hey.” Himchan says through his dying laughter. “You seem familiar, by the way. Do you know Moon Jongup?”

     Youngjae's smiling bright and wide because they may have a connection and an excuse to meet up after today was over. “Yeah, he's been my best friend for ages.” he's trying to keep the giddy excitement far from his vocal chords, he really is, but the feat is much too difficult. “Why?”

     Suddenly, Himchan has another fit of laughter. Don't get him wrong, Youngjae is happy to hear him laugh again, but he's also very confused about what brought it on. “What?”

     “I remember you. From Jongup's bachelor party a couple years back.”

     Oh.

     Jongup's bachelor party was a blur to him. He was drunk off his from start to finish. He vaguely remembers hitting on everyone he saw (he has heteroual tendencies while under the influence) and screeching loudly to songs playing from a radio shoved in the back of the small club. But other than that, he couldn't remember. He could have dropped to his knees in the middle of the dance floor and tried to give Jongup a congratulatory blow, who knew? Jongup certainly wouldn't have mentioned something like that ever again; he'd be too embarrassed, even if Youngjae had been drunk.

     “I was sitting in the back because I don't drink or dance and you came right up and sat in my lap. When I told you my name you said 'Kim Himchan, I am in love with you'.”

     Oh.

     “Then 'Free Fallin'' came on and you went on and on about how much you loved Tom Petty until the chorus. You sang the chorus really loud. Said it was dedicated to me. It was cute.”

     Oh.

     “But, yeah. You were pretty drunk.” Himchan seems to notice how Youngjae's face falls more and more then longer he recounts the gruesome details. “You probably don't recognize me because I was blond then.”

     Himchan can stop talking now because Youngjae's quite sure that he's about to explode from embarrassment. The more he hears about his drunken actions the more he wants to bury himself alive.

     “I...” he sighs, avoiding any eye contact like the plague. “Really?”

     Of course, it wasn't crossing Youngjae's mind how Himchan still remembered that drunken idiot from some lame party two and a half years ago. All he could think about was how much of an he made of himself and that he really really wishes he could remember.

     Himchan just nods, deciding to spare Youngjae a few of the more intimate details of that night. Truth be told, there were much more embarrassing things he did that night, but he figured Youngjae didn't want to hear them. He figured he didn't want to hear how they made out and how Himchan thought his hips fit so snugly between the other's legs. So he kept his mouth shut and jumped his leg up and down, wracking his brain for something to say to change the subject.

     But instead, his big mouth blurts out something he wanted to keep hidden. “You sing nice though. I'd love to hear your voice sober.” granted, it's tame compared to what he could have said, but he was still mentally kicking himself for not changing the subject properly.

     There's a long silence with both of them avoiding gazes in the awkward atmosphere before Youngjae smiles softly. “Thank you.” was all he could manage before the time on his washer beeped, drawing all his attention.

     He debated for a split second, stay and wash the already clean basket of clothes, or go after the current load was dry. There's not much to debate, though. Everything had gone and made itself awkward and there was no reason to stay any longer than he needed to. It was going to be weird as hell from now on, anyway. Better to get out of there as fast as he could.

     Himchan clears his throat, ready to exchange small talk before Youngjae interrupts him.

     “Do you normally have to run the dryer twice?” he was fiddling with the buttons, debating what setting to push before he started the cycle. It was an honest question, the past few times he'd been here, he had to run the dryer twice and he was wondering if there was a combination that was better than the others. He wasn't really looking to stay around for very long, now.

     The older man furrows his brow and makes his way over to Youngjae, looking down at the buttons that were pushed in. “If you press these,” he pauses, slowly pressing some buttons so Youngjae can memorize which ones for future reference and turns the knob for the longest time-- sixty minutes. Himchan was close and Youngjae decided he liked it, even if he was still feeling mortified from before. “It should work better. But you should put a few pieces of dry clothes, towels or something, in there. It'll dry better if you do.”

     He'd never heard of that little trick before, but he supposed it made sense, so he followed the advice and threw a couple dry towels from before into the mix. The more he thought about it, the more he liked Himchan. It was too bad Himchan would never like a fool like him.

     In the end, Youngjae leaves with an even more awkward atmosphere than the bachelor party caused in his wake, with a name but without a phone number.

A/N: ohgod why i'm so frazzled right now i hope this is good tbh i'm just ;;;; it's so early in the morning shoot me i know i wrote this forever ago but i still feel like my current tiredness affected it somehow idk orzz i'm just wow okay by e