The Plan: Part 1

Sumin sat at her small dining table in a daze. The darkness of her apartment seemed to close in around her, insulating her in a way and making her feel safe despite the unstable emotions within her. Her decision to get rid of Taeyeon lingered deep in her thoughts, but a more practical and pressing matter was overwhelming her: the fact that she had lost her job and now had no means of paying rent. She had no family or friends to help her. If she couldn’t find another job soon, she would be forced to live on the streets or perhaps in a makeshift shelter in one of those forgotten ghettos on the outskirts of Seoul. Neither option sat right with her. She didn’t deserve that life. Hadn’t she suffered enough?

Maybe, she thought, she could talk to Seunghyun and explain the situation to him. He obviously had some interest in her, enough to compromise on her rent when she initially moved in. Maybe he would be willing to compromise again.

Sumin crept down the flight of stairs to the second floor landing and knocked lightly on Seunghyun’s door, her knuckles tapping against the grain of the wood three times. Before she could even process her thoughts, she saw the door suddenly open, but only an inch or two wide, just enough for Seunghyun to peek through the gap. Only half of his face was showing, with the other half hidden by the door.

“It’s you,” he said, as the corner of his mouth curled up in a sort of sneaky smile. But then his smile disappeared, as if realizing something. “Gimme a sec,” he said, suddenly closing the door.

Sumin paced the small landing and began pulling at her hair, which she always did when anxious like this. Sometimes, when she was really anxious, she would pull so hard that she’d tear some hair out, leaving sore bald spots on her scalp.

The door quickly opened again, this time all the way. Seunghyun stood in the entrance with that same curled-lip smile. “Come in,” he said, ushering her inside.

Sumin walked past him, quickly glanced around his apartment to see that it was nearly as dark as hers was, and then turned to see him close the door behind them.

“Sit down,” Seunghyun said, pointing to a small dining table not unlike her own. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water is fine,” Sumin said.

“Whiskey it is then,” Seunghyun said, with a smirk.

“No, I said…” Sumin sighed. “Nevermind,” she mumbled. After all, she thought, maybe it would be easier to talk if they both had some alcohol in them.

Seunghyun set two glasses down on the table and filled them both to the brim with that dark amber alcohol. Sumin had never tasted whiskey before and imagined that it would be harsh, but the moment the alcohol touched her lips, she realized that her imagination paled in comparison to just how harsh it was. She had only taken a small sip but it burned everything it touched—her lips, her tongue, —and then it sat like fire in her stomach.

“Good, right?” Seunghyun asked. He sat down across from her and took a swig from his glass, seemingly unfazed by the strength of the alcohol.

Sumin couldn’t speak, only mustering a weak nod.

Seunghyun scooted his chair in closer, his knees brushing up against hers beneath the table, and then flashed her a look full of arrogance as he the whiskey from his lips. “So, all this time, you’ve never come to see me,” he said. “I was beginning to think you didn’t like me.”

“No, I… I like you,” she quietly said.

Seunghyun smiled. “Liar.”

Sumin wanted to leave. This man wasn’t a fool, and she began to think that perhaps he also wasn’t the type of man to give without wanting something in return. But if that was the case, then why had he initially rented the apartment to her at only half the going rate? What had he gotten out of that deal? And… what would he expect now? Not knowing what else to do, Sumin decided to just be honest. “I lost my job today,” she said.

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh?”

“I was hoping… I don’t know, that maybe you can just… I can find another job, but maybe not soon, and…”

“And you want me to… forgive the rent for a while?” Seunghyun asked.

She hated having to beg him like this, as if he owned her.

“Why’d you get fired?” he asked. “Were you out stalking that idol again?”

Sumin was visibly taken aback, her face mired in confusion. She had never before considered what she was doing as stalking. She had always thought of it more as watching. But semantics aside, how did Seunghyun know that she would cut work sometimes to do that?

“Are you like… in love with her or something?” he asked.

“What!?” Sumin’s surprise changed instantly to anger. “In love with her? Are you kidding? I hate her!” She slammed her palm down on the table and her compulsion kicked in then, forcing her to slam it two more times, the slaps against the wood so loud in that otherwise quiet apartment.

Seunghyun held up his hands in defense. “Whoa, okay, okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Guess I hit a sore spot, huh?”

Sumin tried to breathe in deeply to calm herself, but her heart was racing too fast. She reached for the whiskey again, believing on some level that the burning of the alcohol might strip away all of the ugliness inside her, leaving her with a clean slate, something pure.

Seunghyun saw her drink more and smiled. He then gulped what was left of his glass and reached for the bottle between them. “Want more?” he asked.

Sumin nodded and pushed her glass forward.

“I get it, you know,” he said, as he filled up her glass. “I hate idols, too.”

“I don’t hate idols,” Sumin calmly said. “I only hate her.”

“Well, I hate all of them,” Seunghyun said, as he shook his glass a bit, letting the whiskey swirl around the brim. “They’re nothing but lies.”

Sumin felt so warm from the whiskey that she was nearly sweating. She wiped her brow and then looked up at Seunghyun, his words just now registering with her. “Lies?” she asked.

Seunghyun nodded. “You know that, right? It’s all lies. They’re not living real lives. They’re living roles, all trying to push some bull g-rated ideal that doesn’t exist in real life. They’re not honest about their true selves, their true desires. They can’t be, because that would be real and they’re not real. They’re fake.”

She nodded as if in agreement, but didn’t quite believe what he was saying. Taeyeon had the perfect life. The ideal wasn’t a lie. It was real.

He took another gulp of whiskey and then leaned forward. “They’re not like us,” he said, his voice now a deep whisper. “We don’t have to hide. We can be honest about our desires.” Focusing intently on Sumin, he asked, “So, what’s your desire? What is it that you want?”

“What do you want?” Sumin blurted out.

Seunghyun smiled and reached for her underneath the table, his hand gliding up her left knee and then squeezing the meat of her inner thigh. “I think you know what I want,” he whispered. He stared at her with his dark eyes, his one eyebrow slightly raised in suggestion as he massaged his way further up her leg. “Now it’s your turn,” he said, his deep voice practically a rattle. “What do you want?”

Her flesh immediately reacted to his touch, instinctively quivering. “I want…” Sumin tried to speak but was distracted by what he was doing to her. She wiped her brow again, gulped back another mouthful of whiskey, and then slammed her glass down on the table once, and then twice more, startling Seunghyun, whose hand now paused between her legs. “I want to kill her,” she said.