Chapter Text
August in Seoul always began the same way. It held a large crowd, some new shops, and Jisung caught in the loop of it. He quickened his steps, beat-up platform converse hitting the ground as he weaved through the city’s densely packed streets. The sidewalks had been newly paved, thank god for that. They were smooth and inviting, a stark contrast to the disintegrating ones he’d had to navigate around just a couple months ago— that was before he’d left to spend summer break at home in Incheon.
The concrete had moved on without him, yet he had the same old pair of shoes, walking the same streets. He was just… here, inching his way back into his usual routine. Sorta like he’d never left for summer break at all. There was this feeling that he existed in a loop, circling back to where he’d started, year after year, always beginning with Seoul’s start-of-fall frenzy. Oddly enough, that was pretty comforting. Maybe it sounds strange, but no matter how the city changed, it was familiar all the same; predictable, y’know? He passed by a group of what were obviously freshmen, their laughter and excitement bubbling through the air like a melon soda. Cute. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for his first days on campus, all bright-eyed and nervous.
Jisung adjusted his backpack, the weight of his laptop and a neuroanatomy textbook poking into his back a little as he passed a small clearing of lillies that hadn’t been there last semester. Jisung found he liked them. They matched the season, how the warmth of late August hugged the city. It was certainly not as hot as the month before, though, beginning its fade into the crisp air of autumn. It was just that much closer to his favorite weather, the kind where the air is chilled enough to pull on a sweatshirt, but where you’d also get by fine in short sleeves. ‘Wardrobe-maximization-weather’, his best friend, Felix, liked to call it. And it totally was!
As the student walked, trying not to step on his overly long jeans, he took in how lively things were this time of year. Not that it was ever slow in Seoul, the tourists would be sure of that, but summers were always a little more calm considering so many students left for their hometowns. Now, Seoul looked something akin to a sardine tin, packed tightly; older couples strolling hand-in-hand, students chatting animatedly, street vendors with long lines waiting for tteokbokki and sweet pork. It was all so damn alive.
Though Jisung generally disliked super-crowded spaces, there was something about late August that felt like… a fresh start? Perhaps because he associated it with the beginning of fall semester, a ‘new semester, new me’ sort of thing. But was he really new? Or just the same Jisung, but with different textbooks and a slightly-sorta better wealth of knowledge? Mm, he wasn’t all that sure.
It would be just under a week until Jisung’s senior year began, and he needed to really get serious. University wasn’t necessarily easy in previous years anyway, but Jisung had heard some horror stories from his seniors. Brain, queue examples!
> ‘This analysis paper is fucking impossible. Jisung-ah, make sure to review DMT training.’
> ‘I forgot all about tandem schedules— I haven’t studied them for, like, a year.’
> ‘Oh my god, three exams this week… I think I’d rather die.’
Etc, etc, etc. That’s precisely why he decided it was a good idea to hit the books early, to refresh the information he’d already studied in the past.
The library (or, one of them) loomed ahead, an old, two-story building with stone pillars and tall windows, a sort of wise, fancy-shmancy vibe to it. It had been quite a while since Jisung had set foot in a library. He had quickly realized as a freshman that the campus library was almost always too loud, too full; and the main city library, Starfield, was far too decked out to do anything more than gawk at the miles-high stacks of books that lined the walls. Both places were moreso trendy hangout spots as opposed to quiet, work-dedicated spaces. All the noise drove Jisung up the damn wall. Really. When he wanted to work, he wanted to work. Jisung hoped that his first time ever entering this older, lesser-known location would suit his needs.
The library proved to meet these expectations when Jisung took a step inside, allowing him to take a deep, relieved breath. The air was cooler, scented with that aged book smell (you know the one) and distinct, polished oak. Maybe the air conditioning was a tad colder than he’d like, but oh well. One downside to what appeared to be an otherwise amazing place! Really, he should have tried this spot earlier. Its shelves were lined with books that had no doubt seen generations of students, their pages no doubt littered with paper tabs, that no doubt continued up into the second floor. Jisung would have to check that all out later, maybe flip through random works for any cool bookmarks. Vintage lamps cast a warm glow over the various tables and leather couches, areas which still held a whole lot of cozy, vacant spots to sit. There were even a few decorative blankets draped here and there if he squinted. Aesthetically pleasing. He could manage to focus here, for sure. Even better, Jisung thought, was the quiet. Despite there being at least 25 other people sprinkled throughout, he heard nothing more than quiet whispers and the occasional, hushed giggle from a group of friends.
Perfect.
As Jisung made his way past the front desk, he noticed a figure effortlessly flipping through a stack of returns. The man had his black hair tousled just right, a focused expression that made Jisung turn his head to watch as he walked. This front-desk-man clearly knew exactly what he was doing, movements assertive and quick, and— Jisung crashed his knee directly into a table, sharp pain shooting up his leg. Fucking ouch.
He flipped his head side to side cartoonishly, relieved when it seemed nobody paid any mind. Okay, that was his sign to get his shit together and study, not have a ‘shalala~’ moment over a vague stranger across the room. Ever the romantic Jisung was, now wasn’t the time. God, when did he become so tragic? He turned, shook off the embarrassment in his stomach, and headed for a plush armchair in the back left corner.
Settling down (and ignoring the fact that his knee was definitely hurt), he opened his neuro textbook from the semester before, pages absolutely littered with various diagrams and highlighted text. What an eyesore. Jisung fought to focus until he felt the familiar rhythm of studying settle over his mind, the terms blurring together until they formed a comfortable hum.
Anterior, rostral, paracrine, efferent, blah, blah… Ok, sweet— he had retained pretty much all of the basic information over the summer. Thank god. Maybe he could manage to achieve mostly A’s this semester. That would make his parents proud, and maybe his older brother would finally admit Jisung was just as smart as he was, instead of calling his major a ‘fake science’ like he did every damn year. Wait— that sounded bitter; his brother was a cool guy, really.
Jisung briefly reviewed a few harder, more complex terms before stashing his textbook away and retrieving his laptop, for the more interesting stuff. He needed to delve into behavioral psychology, too. After booting up the device, he flipped through his digital flashcard set from last autumn.
Correct, correct, ah I forgot all about that, correct, when did we even talk about that?, correct, correct, correct.
Jisung realized after this pattern repeated for a whopping 50 cards that he was going to have to put a little more effort into remembering some of these things. Ugh. On the bright side, many of these concepts were rather self-explanatory once he reviewed their definitions. Things such as the ‘mere exposure effect’ were easy. Exactly as it sounds: the more one is exposed to another person, the more their feelings of ‘liking’ increase. Simple shit.
Time passed, the sun’s shifting casting nice elongated shadows over the dark, hardwood floor. Jisung could only study for so long before he got unbearably bored, and that ‘so long’ happened to be about an hour and a half. As if Felix had some sort of sixth sense for his friend in need, Jisung’s outdated phone buzzed rapidly with text messages. He scrounged through his backpack for it, clumsy fingers swiping past his Your Name lockscreen. Fuck that anime for making him cry so hard, for real.
Lix :0
bro
my friend
my love
,,platonically
what r youdoing
can we ft right now?
yes or no
Jisung smiled, an amused puff of air escaping his lips. He could clearly envision Felix in-person, bleached hair bouncing around his freckled face as he poked at Jisung’s shoulders for attention. Jisung wouldn’t be able to FaceTime, seeing as he was studying and all, but… this was the perfect reason to wrap things up, right?
Ji
Ok yeah but wait
I’m at the library but
definitely in like uhhh
Maybe 20 minutes?
Lix :0
boooo
tomato tomato tomato
ok i can wait
but hurry
i miss you man
Jisung missed Felix, too. His best friend, his confidant, his ‘twin’ (as their September birthdays were only one day apart, so naturally they must have been born to be close). Jisung hadn’t seen him since the end of their junior year. And considering Felix had just flown to study abroad for the entire first month of the semester, their shared apartment was going to be pretty lonely. What did Canada have to offer, anyway? Apparently, all Canada was good for was taking away people’s friends. Well, alright, he was happy Felix got the opportunity. He deserved it; who wouldn’t take up a teaching internship abroad if given the chance? Hell, it even paid for the guy’s stay. Jisung just wasn’t sure what to do without his only roommate; being limited to texts and calls sucked. And ok, yeah, maybe he was a tad too dependent on him, but so what? Some people just make life that much more fun. Felix was one of those people.
Ji
Me too :/
I’ll pack up now, call soon!!!
Lix :0
bet
i have GOT to tell you abt my
first day in canada
With a newfound pep, Jisung packed up his things, glad to leave the library with some semblance of academic accomplishment. As he stood, he once again caught sight of the front-desk-man, this time in conversation with a visitor. A meteor fell from space and crashed on top of his head. Not really, of course. Just felt like it. Jisung stopped mid-step, frozen in the moment, at a standstill across the room. He watched instinctively, attempting to be inconspicuous, but every gesture —the way the man sighed, the slight lean of his body— drew him in like a moth to a flame. Or, if Jisung wanted to get all specific, more like a super-hopeless romantic to a seemingly attractive bookworm. Jisung felt the weight of his resolve slip, stuck, Felix temporarily forgotten.
From his current distance, Jisung guessed the front-desk-man was likely in his mid 30s… ish. The man’s eyes, sharply defined yet somewhat weary behind wire-rimmed glasses, made him seem like someone who had seen a fair bit of life. It gets pretty tricky to pinpoint someone’s exact age at that stage— so many experiences and so much time have a way of blending together, yet there’s still so much time to live. Jisung never really understood why people got antsy once they weren’t in their 20’s anymore. It's not as if they’d suddenly expire and turn to dust. Sure, he supposed he was merely 23 himself, so maybe his mindset would suddenly shift once he hit 30, but he didn’t foresee that happening.
Jisung hesitated for a moment, interest lingering, then mentally shrugged. Front-desk-man was busy, hadn’t detached from his conversation with the other person even once; that, and Felix was waiting, so he hiked his backpack up a little and headed for the exit.
Once he was back in his apartment, Jisung tossed his bag onto the couch, his laptop peeking out from the top. It wasn’t the most organized place, but it was home. The walls were adorned with various posters from the pair’s favorite films and a few sketches he’d made out of boredom during lectures, while at least ten pairs of shoes scattered the entryway. The faint smell of the spicy tteokbeokki Jisung had that morning still clung to the air, and would probably stay another few hours or so, no matter what he did to try to get rid of it. Oh, well. It was just him, anyway.
Flopping onto the couch, he quickly dialed Felix on FaceTime, waiting for the familiar cheery face to pop up on the screen.
“There he is!” Felix’s voice was excited, his Australian accent peeking out, even after so many years in South Korea. “You’re finally free, huh?”
“Yep! Just finished up at the library. What’s up with you?” Jisung leaned back, holding his phone at arm’s length, giving Felix a chance to launch into his chirpy recounting of his first day in Canada.
“Oh my god, it’s great! It kinda reminds me of growing up in Australia, you know? Well, I guess you wouldn’t. So like, the weather’s different, obviously, but the people I’ve met are super relaxed, and there’s just this familiar vibe, you know? I had poutine today— dude, why don’t we have this so accessible in Seoul? The gravy, the cheese curds? Fucking heaven.”
Jisung smiled, genuinely happy for Felix, though there was a flicker of something else. His best friend was off exploring a new country, and here he was, stuck in the same city, only 40-ish minutes from his hometown. “Sounds sick. I’m glad you’re enjoying it! It’s been... lonelier, without you.”
Felix grinned, his face filling the screen. “Aww, I knew you’d been missing me, too. What about Changbin-hyung and Seungmin, though? It’s not like I’m your only friend, so don’t hole up indoors, ok?” His face dropped a little, gaze sincere as he tilted his head.
Jisung knew he was right. He did have friends other than Felix. Seungmin, a fellow psychology major, and Changbin, who had graduated in muscle rehab the year before, were both good friends of his. They’d probably be moving back into the complex any day now. Jisung had managed to hang out with Changbin a fair amount over summer break, and Seungmin at least six times. A few times as a trio, too. And he’d enjoyed himself, naturally. It was just that they weren’t quite as close to him as Felix, a tiny gap that could only be filled with his best friend’s face.
Jisung blew a raspberry and nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. It’s not like we don’t hang out! I saw them some over the summer.”
Felix sighed with relief. “Oh, good. I was kinda worried you’d just, like, isolate. Anyway, we’ll survive this month— we lasted the summer apart, yeah?” He did a quick little fist pump and moved along, “So, what’s it like being back on campus?”
Jisung paused, the memory of front-desk-man surfacing. “It’s alright. The usual, you know. Classes starting in a few days, ‘m trying to get ahead... Oh, actually, there’s this guy I saw at the library. Not at Starfield— the older one, a few blocks down.”
“Ohoho, a guy? Tell me more,” Felix teased, his trimmed eyebrows wiggling on the screen.
“It’s nothing, really. He was just this... librarian, or something. Mid-thirties, I think?” He raised a hand when Felix’s eyes widened, “Wait, wait, hear me out. He had rectangular glasses, this charming little sweater, sharp jaw— all that, ‘n he looked professional as hell,” Jisung leaned in, whispering as if he weren’t in his own home, “real put together, a ‘dilf vibe,’ y’know? I didn’t talk to him, though.” Jisung chuckled, trying to play it off casually, but Felix latched on right away.
“No— you know what? I get it. God, I love it, actually. You have to find a reason to talk to him, right? Maybe ask him about a book, or, I dunno, get a library card or something.” Felix smirked, fully leaning into the idea.
Jisung rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide the grin pulling at his lips. “I don’t know this guy at all. I mean, it’s a library. It’s not like I’m going to pick him up or something.”
“No, but you could find a reason to chat him up. You’re not slick, Jisung. You’re clearly interested. No harm in getting to know him, for fun and all; Just don’t be too obvious about it,” Felix brushed his hand through his neck-length hair. “But seriously, though— go get a library card. I swear, it’s the perfect excuse.”
Jisung laughed it off but, after ending the call, found himself lying on his bed, pinching at the seams of his comforter and staring at the ceiling. Felix’s suggestion looped through his mind. Why not get a library card? It was practical, right? Plus, it wasn’t like he was trying to hit on the front-desk-man or anything. Just... curious. Yep, precisely.
✎ᯓ
It was only the next day that Jisung found himself back in front of the same old library, this time without a textbook or laptop weighing on his back. The air outside felt a little cooler than yesterday, more crisp, but not enough to cause any shivering. He hovered near the entrance for a moment before shaking off his nerves, quite literally flapping his arms back and forth. His hand swiped around to straighten his clothes before he fumbled around in his bag to pull out a small bottle of cologne, spritzing himself lightly. It was neutral, subtle. A birthday gift from Changbin. Nothing too bold. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it— a stupid impulse, really. With a deep breath, he walked inside.
It didn’t take long for Jisung to spot him, deftly sorting various books behind the counter. Efficient, Jisung thought, just as the day before. Yet the man didn’t behave particularly hurriedly, the pads of his fingers lingering just a moment on the spine of each volume, as though savoring the feeling. He appeared to be simultaneously reading one of his own, too, the worn cover fraying and cracked, like it might disintegrate at any moment on the desk in front of him. The nametag pinned to his lanyard glinted under the overhead lights and transformed front-desk-man into someone more definite: ‘Lee Minho, Librarian’.
Jisung stopped at the counter, heart thudding softly in his chest at the idea of meeting a new person, forcing himself to stay casual yet not too relaxed. “Hi, uh, I wanted to get a library card,” he said, managing to keep his voice steady.
Minho looked up from the pages, eyes meeting Jisung’s for the first time. His eyes were dark, steady, engaging. Jisung glanced over the librarian’s face. Up close, the man’s features were even more defined, a feline sharpness to them, everything about him like a razor blade. The subtle streaks of gray threading through his black hair indicated he may have been a bit older than Jisung had initially guessed. He wasn’t only attractive… this weird, quiet confidence just rolled right off of him in waves, the kind that made Jisung automatically straighten his posture. Damn.
“Of course,” Minho replied with a polite smile, voice much softer than expected, but clear. He reached into a drawer and swiftly handed Jisung a form, sliding it across the counter. “Just fill this out, and I’ll have your card ready in a few minutes. I’ll need your ID, too.”
Jisung nodded, averting his gaze and filling out the form (which needed a ridiculous amount of info) before quickly scrabbling through his bag. The moment he retrieved his wallet, though, his heart sank to his feet. Oh god. His ID photo.
It hadn’t immediately crossed his mind, but the second he looked at that absolutely cursed image, the memory of it came back at full force. It was from several years ago— not long after he’d finished his military service, when his hair was in that awkward, half-baked phase of growing back. It had been an insanely windy day that messed up the hair he did have so badly it looked as if he'd escaped a hurricane, strands springing in different directions. Oh, and don’t even mention his old glasses, these massive, dorky frames that he immediately ditched for contacts after the photo was taken (shouldn't the employee have made him take them off?)… When his friends had seen the photo, they’d burst out laughing. Seungmin had said he looked like a squirrel realizing it was about to be hit by a semi-truck. He didn’t still look like that, right?
Jisung swallowed as he shakily handed his ID over, trying to avoid all eye contact. Please don’t stare too hard. Please just move on.
But, if Jisung was anything, he certainly wasn’t lucky.
Minho had just barely looked at the ID before his jaw clenched, and Jisung thought he saw the tiniest hint of a shit-eating grin, Minho’s eyes narrowing in a way that looked suspiciously like he was doing everything in his power not to outright laugh. God damn it.
Jisung needed to die, to have a sinkhole open underneath him and take him away. His cheeks warmed, and he became acutely aware of how he was standing, how it was like his body wanted to run away without him. He tried to focus on the counter instead, gaze tracing along the texture of it as if it were so, so, sooo engaging.
Minho sniffed and Jisung looked back up, relieved to see his face had gone back to one of professionalism, as if he hadn’t just made Jisung want to bury himself alive. The librarian asked, “The address on your ID— is it still current?”
“Uh, yeah. Still live there.”
“Great,” Minho said, jotting down a quick note on the form. He seemed to nearly smile again, a twitch at the corner of his mouth that left as quickly as it came. Minho then added, “Alright, I’ll have this ready for you in just a moment.”
As Minho processed the form’s information, Jisung glanced up at Minho’s nametag again, as if the name might tell him something more about the man wearing it, coming up empty handed nonetheless. He moved to notice the man’s personal, little details, gaze flicking up and down in a way that was hopefully not obvious.
Delicate, tiny flowers embroidered into his cardigan’s neckline, the slight crinkles at the edges of his eyes (a softness that was a blaring contradiction to the rest of his sharpness, the student noted), and the distinct bow of his upper lip. When Jisung focused, he could catch the scent of a sort of sweet, yet musky cologne, too. It suited the Librarian, smelled like sitting on a shaded balcony on a summer evening.
There was something undeniably magnetic about Minho from the get-go; Jisung found himself fighting hand-to-hand combat with the urge to linger on these things longer than necessary, to soak in more. Stop staring. It wasn’t like he was some pathologist there to dissect the guy, but it felt like trying to look away from a fire without noticing the flames in your peripheral. If the fire were a majestic-ass man. You get what’s being put down? He figured he should say something, if just to see Minho’s expression change. Something simple, lest he try to act all smooth and end up sounding like an idiot instead.
“You’re the librarian… so, does that mean you own this place, then?”
Minho’s eyebrows raised, looking up briefly before resuming his task. “Ah, no, no. I don’t own the building, but I guess you could say I own operations. I normally wouldn’t be the one manning the desk, actually, but we recently had a volunteer graduate, so I’m picking up the slack for now.”
“Oh, gotcha…” Jisung trailed off. Great, going the simple route made him look more like a simpleton because of course librarians don't own the damn libraries they work at. Jisung went on, trying to redeem himself, “This place is nice! The other libraries are, y’know, loud? Distracting.”
Minho remained focused on his task as he replied nonchalantly, perhaps to himself, “Distractions have their place, don’t they?”
Jisung’s eyes wavered. Was the librarian making fun of him? If so, it was so over. Suddenly, he felt like maybe he didn’t belong here, unsure what to say next whilst the card printer whirred. Maybe it was only his imagination? But that didn’t matter; he didn’t get the opportunity to think on it too much before Minho was already handing him his new, shiny library card.
“There you go,” Minho said, holding the card between his pointer and middle fingers with a professional smile. “All set.”
Jisung accepted it, eyes scrunched. “Thanks, Minho-ssi,” he said, testing the name on his tongue, trying to sound natural.
Minho raised an eyebrow, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his lips, then leaving as quickly as it came. “You’re welcome,” he said, his tone remaining polite, though now vaguely amused.
Jisung tried to force the confident energy further with a tilt of the head and a smile, asking, “See you around, maybe?”
Minho nodded, his expression vaguely kind when he replied, “Yeah; have a nice day.”
As Jisung walked out, he couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. He hadn’t even really done much, just talked about the library. And yet here he was, feeling oddly successful despite the total embarrassment he experienced. Minho’s mild disinterest made him feel like he’d been teleported back to his freshman year, trying to impress some T.A. that couldn’t care less about him. He was probably incapable of winning the interest of a guy like the librarian, but whatever. It was a little exciting, right? Jisung shook his head, exhaling. He was gonna have to go back, for sure. Even if only for kicks, for fun, he was interested to talk to Minho more.
Rushed fingertips dialed Felix as Jisung practically skipped down the street.
Ring, ring, and then Felix answered, “Hel—”
“Just now, I met the guy I told you about. I was right— he’s the librarian, so I got a library card.” Jisung spoke with the confidence of someone who hadn’t gotten laughed at (pshh, that never happened, right?), smiling into the receiver. He winced and yanked his phone away from his ear when Felix yelled ‘LET’S GOOOOO!’ from the other end.
Felix added, expectantly, “Ok, and?”
And what? Jisung was confused. “Aaaand… I’m outside, now, going home. We didn’t talk much yet, but I got the card, and confirmed he’s good-looking.”
“You just got the card and left? Dude!”
“What? What was I supposed to do?” Jisung waved his hand in the air defensively as if his friend could see.
Felix sighed lightheartedly, “Bro, you’re supposed to do more than that, like, assert yourself as someone he’d wanna know. Be all charming.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of that,” Jisung admitted, ears burning up.
And, well, as Felix started rambling about how to make oneself seem worth an older guy’s time, Jisung kind of panicked. That really was silly, walking right in and out like that, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he have stuck around a bit longer, tried a little harder to make a good impression, to make more conversation, something?
Jisung rushed out, “Okay, wait, wait; I have an idea. Call you back later,” barely catching the ‘Go get ‘em!’ from the other end as he hung up.
Impulsively, with no actual plan in place, he turned himself right back around towards the library. Again.
Two blocks and an almost-fall later, Jisung was speed-walking right through the same front doors. He paused after entering, viewing Minho completely absorbed into the same book as before. His eyebrows were cinched together and focused, so much so that Jisung almost thought he should simply leave him alone and turn back around. But Jisung had returned for a reason, right? It would be even more stupid to just leave again; he already felt like a pinball bouncing between the same two ends of the street as it was. And it’s not like he was going to give Minho a hard time. He didn’t intend to, anyway. Nonetheless, Jisung waited behind for a moment, until Minho’s expression smoothed out, a calmer disposition resting over it.
Now!
Jisung cleared his throat as he approached, and Minho looked up, gaze shifting from recognition to something more steady. “Back again so soon?” the librarian asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
Jisung scratched his cheek, now feeling a little silly that he’d come back this quickly. Perhaps he’d feel that way no matter how he went about these things. Jisung could display confidence all he wanted, but he’d still check for food in his teeth after every meal no matter what. What if Minho could see right through him? Jisung replied, “Yep, I, um, well— I thought I’d check out a book. I meant to earlier, but I guess I… forgot?”
Minho’s face contorted into one of bewilderment, rapidly blinking up from his seat. A puff of air left his nose before he clarified, “You forgot to check out a book when you were at a library?”
Jisung flushed. That did sound ridiculous. Okay, be sooo cool. Goal: acquire a look from Minho that is literally anything other than the look of someone regretting their decision to make eye contact with him. “Um. Yeah! It’s so stupid, but it totally slipped my mind. I wasn’t even sure what kind of book to look for, honestly. I haven’t sat to read a story in a while; I’m more of a movie guy and— ah, I’m rambling.” He paused, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go, gaze dropping to the book in Minho’s grasp. “How about that one? As the librarian, you’ve got to have the best recommendations, right?”
Minho seemed somewhat entertained despite the initial confusion, a small smile gracing his face as he placed a marker in his book and snapped it shut. “It’s fine. Not much to do with being a librarian, but… you’re right. I do have the best recommendations. This author…” he tapped the book’s cover, “Well. I’m not sure what kinds of stories you’re interested in, but this is a very good author. She writes a lot of historical fiction.”
Now, historical fiction didn’t particularly interest Jisung. But he was here to ‘chat up’ Minho, not to be choosy about a book. So he was going to say yes, and read at least some of the book in order to have something to talk about the next time he stopped in. Yup. He pointed to the book and tried to sound sure of himself, ‘charming’, as Felix suggested, “Yeah, sounds right up my alley. Do you have a copy of the same one?”
Minho blinked and smiled softly— hesitantly? “Oh. We do, but I don’t know if this exact book would be of interest to you. It has… romance.”
“Actually, I think that makes it sound even more interesting to me, now.” That much was true; Jisung did enjoy a good, romantic storyline. Maybe this historical fiction could be bearable.
Minho’s look faltered, almost seemed to become a grimace. “Yes, it’s just that it’s…” he trailed off, looked to the side, and pursed his lips. For just a moment, he looked nearly vulnerable. Then, relenting, he simply said, “Well, nevermind. Let me go find our other copy. I’ll be right back.” He smiled again, more polite than real, and stood to leave. As he stepped away, he released another puff of air out the nose (was that a little mole on his nostril?), its purpose harder to read this time. It was difficult not to stare at Minho’s build from behind, but nonetheless Jisung averted his eyes from the brown, pressed slacks. A gentleman.
Hm. Did Jisung somehow upset Minho? He thought that showing interest in the same book that the librarian was reading would open the door for good conversation, but if anything, the older man seemed put-off. Was he maybe embarrassed to recommend a romance? Wait— did he want to gatekeep it, to be this book’s number-one fan? If that were the case, that would be a yellow flag worth mentioning to Felix later. How silly, to try and gatekeep a book. Then again… it’s not like Jisung never felt some level of possessiveness over the film Closer… and that was a total lost cause, because one-in-ten people know that movie. No need to remind him.
When Minho returned, he seemed just as tense as when he’d left, quietly requesting that Jisung pull out his library card. Well, whatever the reason for the seriousness, Jisung had already insisted on reading the book, and he was going to do his best to come up with some thoughts on it for them to discuss later on. As the librarian scanned the card and then the book, Jisung finally caught sight of its title. The Charioteer, by Mary Renault. Sounded real fancy, and hopefully not real boring. Minho handed the book to Jisung gingerly, carefully, in a way that further convinced him that it was quite the important novel.
Jisung offered a smile before saying, “Great! I'll start soon.”
The librarian’s responding smile was a little twitchy, facial expression somewhat distant when he said, “I hope—”
A woman’s voice interjected from out of sight, “Minho-ssi, our printer is acting up again, can you help me?”
Minho turned his head towards the voice, which ended up being an employee who’d peeked her head out from the nearby, enclosed printing space. Her hair was dyed a dark purple, framing her face cutely.
Minho sighed, “Ah, again? Okay, coming.” He looked back to Jisung, bowing his head gently and saying, “Looks like Yeojin needs help. Please, excuse me.” With that, Minho went on his way, the door to the printing room clicking shut behind him.
For a few moments, Jisung simply stood there, novel-in-hand. He’d meant to express his thanks, but who knew how long Minho would be gone? Anything more than a minute or so, and then it would be strange for him to return and find Jisung still standing there. No better way for Jisung to make himself look like some obsessed weirdo, standing around like that for someone he didn’t even know well. He glanced around before noticing a little pad of sticky notes to his right alongside a cup of colored pens. Accepting the compromise, he reached forward to swipe up one of each, carefully writing a quick, ‘Thank you, Minho-ssi. I’ll be back to tell you what I think!’, sticking it beside Minho’s own book, and slipping out the front doors.
✎ᯓ
“Ha! No wonder he was all stiff! Problem solved, guys: The librarian’s gay.” Jisung’s outburst echoed around the apartment, arm proudly gesturing towards his laptop, where he’d been researching The Charioteer.
Changbin glanced over from where he lounged on the couch, a little startled. “And how do you know that?” he asked. Seungmin also paused whatever he was doing on his phone, tuning in.
Jisung swiveled around on his bar stool at the breakfast bar to face them, the memories of Minho’s nervous behavior the day prior flashing through his mind. He could practically feel the awkwardness of how Minho seemed so hesitant to hand over the novel. Jisung latched onto the possibility that Minho’s taste in books was more than just literary. “Because the book is gay!” he stated, voice triumphant. “It’s a queer love story. Basically a manifesto.”
Jisung had come over to Changbin and Seungmin’s apartment that morning to help them unpack their things. The two had arrived back in Seoul the night before, back from living at their separate homes over the summer. Luckily for everyone involved, the pair’s apartment was only one floor below Jisung and Felix’s, so the friend group were always in and out of each other’s places. He’d already filled the two in about Minho as they unpacked a few suitcases— how he was a little reserved, older, attractive— and that Jisung was just starting to read the book Minho recommended. Upon getting into the plot of the story, Jisung was taken aback; The Charioteer didn’t seem to be just any old romance. That had led him to do some internet searching, and boom, Naver’s treasure chest of answers was opened wide.
Seungmin, always the skeptic, snorted from the opposite side of the couch. “You do know that straight people can read about gay relationships, too, right?” He tilted his head to the side and removed his glasses, setting them on his lap and beginning to rub at the frames with his t-shirt. Changbin nodded in thoughtful agreement.
Blegh. Jisung rolled his eyes. “What is this, a woke-off? Okay, sure, not every guy that reads a gay book is automatically gay. But! How many straight, older men in Seoul do you know who would publicly read a queer novel? Like, none.” He paused, watched as Changbin and Seungmin exchanged a look, yet didn’t argue. Jisung continued, “If they’re gay and out, then fine. But if not? Bro, they’d be scared shitless of people questioning it in the first place. He was hella weird over it. So he’s either out but thinks I might be an ass about it, or he’s closeted. I think.”
Changbin shifted his position on the couch, draping one of his muscular legs over Seungmin’s thinner ones, to which the latter scooched a bit closer. Changbin tapped his finger on his chin before replying, “Hmm… ok, wise words from the psychoanalyze-r. You said he’s, what, almost a decade older? I guess guys his age might be more squeamish about those things.”
Jisung corrected, “Probably older, but yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. I clocked his ass.”
Seungmin piped up once more, lowering his phone again and looking between the two of them. “Okay, I get it, but it still doesn’t mean he’s gay.”
“He also wears patterned cardigans.”
“I stand corrected.” Seungmin raised both hands in surrender.
Jisung grinned and continued, a little more thoughtful now. “I think I made a pretty good impression overall. Or, I hope. I already call him by name, you know.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, suddenly realizing that might’ve been the opposite of a good impression. Was that strange of him to do? Too intense? Oh no. Probably.
The student had worked part-time at a supermarket the year prior, when he was saving for concert tickets. Seungmin had practically begged him (in his own way, as he never liked to seem too desperate) to go see his favorite band, Day6, with him. And what kind of friend would Jisung be to say no? He recalled how thrown off he’d been whenever a random customer would call him by name at the register, as if they knew him just from the nametag, shattering the illusion that Jisung was simply playing grocery-simulator for the night. He’d been kind of annoyed, honestly. He added, tentatively, “Actually, do you think that was weird? Like… maybe I was rude?”
Seungmin made a ‘yikes’ face as he placed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. Not helpful at all. “I mean, maybe that was a little forward, yeah.”
Changbin waved his hand dismissively. “But also, it’s literally his name. If you’re that worried about it, just stick to calling him by his title or whatever. He probably won’t even notice. No big deal.” Okay, that was more helpful. Big thanks to Changbin for being the optimistic type.
Jisung sighed and leaned back in his seat, dropping his arms to his side dramatically, playing dead. “Ugh, okay, yeah, I’ll just tone it down in that department.” He swiveled himself back around to face the breakfast bar, shutting his laptop and opening his book to where he’d left off, set to read until he inevitably grew hungry enough to go to his own place and heat up a cheap meal.
✎ᯓ
For the next couple of days, Jisung lost himself in The Charioteer. It was the first time he’d been so engrossed in any sort of book for a long, long time, so long he’d forgotten the feeling. Well, maybe that wasn’t a huge feat, because it had been a couple years since he’d read anything that wasn’t a requirement for one of his classes. What could he say? Reading assignments drained him.
But this— this novel had him in its grip.
The smooth surface of each page felt soft and worn against his fingertips, wonderfully paired with the scent of the library, almost as if he weren’t even at home. The way it explored identity, repression, longing, regret… it was absolutely emotional, the pages reaching out, pulling him by the neck to read more. Jisung had never read a book that made his heart ache like this, the feeling almost physically painful. Never felt so warm, devastated, bare, and conflicted, as if he were the one trapped in the pages, himself. All his worries about coming up with parts of the story to discuss with Minho went out the window. It was easy to have thoughts about it when they came so naturally, tumbling over each other with excitement.
And then there was Minho.
Each time Jisung closed the novel, he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to the man. The fact that this was the type of novel Minho enjoyed said a lot about him as a person, didn’t it? Jisung recalled watching him read this same work, totally taken with it. Now he knew why! Strange, how a novel could feel like learning about more than just the story itself. There had to be so much more depth beneath that reserved, polite surface. Well, of course there was. Minho was another human being, after all— but Jisung wanted to know more, and he’d be sure to make that happen.
✎ᯓ
Jisung chewed at his lower lip, tugging at the hem of his shirt as he hovered near the city library’s entrance. He’d gone for a more deliberate look that day— his favorite pair of jeans, a black tee that hugged his body the way he liked it, and a few accessories for flair. It wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone, but it felt good, a tad more confidence flowing in his bloodstream when he was put together.
The library was quiet except for the hushed ruffling of pages and clicking of keys from one of the nameless guest’s laptops. As he’d hoped for, the librarian, Minho, was there, seated behind the counter with a book in his hands. It was different from the last, the cover appearing much newer, the body of it slimmer, Minho’s nose nearly swallowed by the pages with how close it was held to his face. Jisung approached the counter, The Charioteer in hand, determined to strike up a conversation about his newfound appreciation for it. He held up the book and waved it a little to get the librarian’s attention, whisper-announcing, “I’m back!”
Minho glanced up, eyes widening a little behind his wired glasses. He visibly stiffened, arms curling into his body a bit, hiding into his cardigan (a swirly-patterned one, this time, Jisung noted). Minho nodded with a tight expression before he smiled, just slightly. A customer-service-smile, more than anything. He replied, “Ah… you’re here to return the book, right?”
The man seemed… guarded? A little colder than the last time Jisung saw him, that was for sure. Nervy. Jisung’s eyebrows lifted. Oh, right. The book. The book in which dudes fall in love and kiss; the book that Minho was probably stressing the hell out about because he thought Jisung might be a dick. Be normal! “Huh? No, I’m here to talk about it, actually. I started reading, and it’s fantastic; I’m only halfway through it, but…” he faded out, locking eyes with the librarian.
Minho blinked one, two, three times and visibly relaxed somewhat. His shoulders loosened, though his face looked quizzical, cautious when he asked, “Really? And what did you think of the first part?” He leaned into his desk, the scent of his cologne intensifying with the proximity.
Jisung smiled, looking down at the book. “It’s so well done, seriously. The way the tension builds between the characters is really subtle, but it hits hard. Laurie’s conflict between the past and present, and his secret meetings in the garden— the emotions just feel so… raw?” Jisung’s gaze drew back up to the librarian’s face, hoping his sincerity came through as intended.
Minho stared back, and it would have been empty if it weren’t for the accompanying understanding that perhaps only they could read. Minho didn’t say it aloud, but Jisung could feel that he had probably just gotten himself clocked. That was fine; it’s not like he was closeted anyway. Just about everyone close to Jisung knew of his preferences. That included his family, who loved him, even if they avoided talking about his relationships. Maybe that stung a little bit; Jisung didn’t think about it.
After what felt like one million seconds, but couldn’t have been more than two, Minho’s eyes lit up— sparkling, clearly pleased as he pointed a pen at The Charioteer with a jabbing motion. The librarian’s voice raised a little, more lively than Jisung had ever seen as he responded, “Yes! That’s exactly what makes the author’s writing so special!” He seemed to notice his own excitement, reeling himself in a bit before finishing, quieter, “It’s all about the unsaid moments between the characters. The use of introspection is lovely, too. So wonderfully written.”
Score! Jisung found himself drawn into Minho’s enthusiasm, endeared with how much the older man cared about the story, how he spoke so rapidly about it. Like a door had been cracked open, and behind it was someone much more, well, more real than the reserved librarian he’d gotten in previous interactions.
“Exactly,” Jisung said, “And the way every little gesture means something, ugh. Even simple interactions feel emotionally heavy— no, more like charged?”
Minho remained saturated with intrigue, gaze sharp as a cat’s, curious as he nodded along. He drummed his fingers lightly against the edge of his desk, almost playfully, nearly mischievous when his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, like he was sizing Jisung up or something. “It is,” Minho agreed, voice contemplative, “But then, I wonder what you think of the supporting characters. Some of them… well, I think there are some unintended stereotypical ones; they don’t all get that same depth.”
Jisung made a little ‘aohh’ sound. Wow, Minho was right. The younger man felt a pang of recognition for the author— and, to be honest, for Minho himself. He was critical yet understanding; it was nice. Really, this was the longest conversation the student had ever had about a book, if you discount the ones that relied on class discussions. Jisung felt excited, like he could say anything. “Now that you say it, I think you're totally right. Looking back on the first half I’ve read… I did kinda think some of them seem campy, like the book is trying to include every ‘type’ of gay dude or whatever, maybe. The view of women is also… well, I guess normal for the time, but not now.”
The librarian’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, giving him one of those calm, unreadable looks. His head tilted gently in thought, streaks of gelled black hair unmoving. Maybe Jisung suddenly developed a thing for men that style their hair with that windswept look. Minho said, “Exactly. She’s brilliant with the main characters, but… you can see where the limits of her understanding are, and where the time period holds her narrative. Some aspects feel stereotypical and occasionally misogynistic. Interesting, considering Renault was a lesbian,” he shifted his weight slightly and murmured, “There’s honesty in that, though. The writer has limits, but tries to push them nonetheless.”
Jisung sighed, embarrassingly enamored with Minho’s knowledge about the book. He pressed his fingers against the cover as he said, “Yeah, I think that’s a cool way to think about it, even when there’s shortcomings ‘n all. Anyway— I’m seriously into this story so far; I’m glad I went with this one, even if it was on a whim. Thanks, Librarian-nim.”
Minho immediately quirked his head, eyes sharpening. “‘Librarian-nim’? What happened to ‘Minho-ssi’?” he asked, a mysterious lilt replacing his excitatory tone, cooled down.
Damn, he noticed. Jisung felt a bit awkward. “Oh. I, uh, I figured it might’ve been rude before, since you don’t know me like that.”
Minho’s gaze swept over him, assessing but still kind. He shook his head gently, black hair shifting. “No, it’s fine. You can keep calling me by name. But… if you’re going to call me by name, I should at least know yours. I see a lot of names come through here, and I don’t study people’s IDs… as memorable as yours was.”
Jisung laughed nervously and tried to brush past that last part (if he ignored it, it didn't happen, of course). He had never properly introduced himself. Whoops. “Oh, right! Sorry. I’m Jisung— Han Jisung.”
Minho nodded in recognition, a gentle smile gracing his features as he stated firmly, “Then, it’s nice to meet you properly, Jisung-ah.”
The student beamed. “You, too!” He could sense the conversation coming to a stop; there was nothing left to say about the novel for now, and Minho knew his name. But Jisung didn’t want their conversation to be over, not yet.
Say something!
Say something!
Say something!
Jisung tapped his nails against the counter and cleared his throat. “So… does the work follow you home? Or do you get to leave it all here?”
The other man paused momentarily, appearing pleasantly surprised at the new topic. “Thankfully not,” he replied, efficiently checking for any damage to books in their drop-off-box, scanning each afterward. “Once I’m out of here, I get to decide what to do with my time. Though sometimes I’ll look into a book or two that we’re considering adding to the ever-growing collection. I like to give a read to as many as I can.”
Jisung sighed wistfully, “Oooh, lucky. You’re one of the few. Soooo many people have to act like they’re on the clock, like, the whole day now. No boundaries in modern work life,” he commented, folding his arms over the counter. It was an ever growing problem in their society, and Jisung hoped he wouldn’t become one of its victims, himself. “Well, what do you do with that precious free time?”
Minho looked up to the ceiling and hummed in thought. “Mmm… nothing too exciting. I like to read, obviously. A bit of writing. Ah— I go to The Cornerstone occasionally. I’ve got a friend who’s a bartender there, so we catch up whenever I visit.” The man waved a hand, “That’s not all the time, though; I’m not one to drink very often.”
Ooh. Jisung was fairly sure he’d heard of that bar before. Something about the staff banning a transfer student (named Shota, maybe?) last semester, because he’d gotten so drunk that he wandered into it and pissed directly onto their floor… probably best to not bring that up. Instead, he said, “Nice, sounds chill. I’ve been meaning to check that spot out sometime!” He nodded, brown hair slipping into his face a bit, then shot Minho a curious glance and asked, “Does your friend give you discounted drinks?”
Minho’s lips grew into a grin. “Maybe he does, but if you’re asking because you think name-dropping me at his bar will get you the same deal, don’t bother.”
Jisung gave an exaggerated, you-got-me type of sigh. “Worth a shot. Can’t blame me— shit gets expensive, I haven’t been to a bar in months.” A pause. Be bold, Jisung. You’ve gotta figure out if this guy is even an option! He added, as casually as he could muster, “Does he budge on that when you bring, um, dates?”
Minho straightened his posture, paused, and made a little ahem sound before replying, “Perhaps he’d allow it, then. I’ve never brought one— dates haven’t been my priority. But…” He looked Jisung up and down, a sort of coy grin on his mouth when he said, “I don’t just bring acquaintances for cheap drinks, either.”
“Fair.” Jisung smiled back cheekily, a fluttering feeling in his chest. Okay, so Minho was available, and maybe Jisung was becoming interested in the idea of knowing Minho for more than kicks and drinks. He settled his elbow on the counter’s edge, resting his chin on his palm. Quirking his head to a slight bow, he questioned, “May I ask how old you are, Minho-ssi?”
Minho snickered and he crossed his arms before gesturing forward to Jisung with a hand, “How old do you think? Guess.”
Ah. Not this game. Jisung always had felt a little anxious any time he had to guess someone's age, worried of sounding rude if he was wrong, or maybe seeming even more rude if he was right. Always the type to overthink these things. Minho’s face was rather age-ambiguous, like he could be anything in a 10-year range. Jisung narrowed his eyes, glancing at the slight, lighter streaks in Minho’s otherwise black hair. At the back of his mind, a past Life Span class reminded him that men tended to gray around ages 37-42… so it would be safe to say a little younger than that, right? Sure. He made his guess, voice heightening in pitch near the end, “Um, thirty… five?”
Minho shook his head, smirking. “Oh, please. You’re trying to be all nice to me. I’m thirty-nine. Unfortunately.”
Oh? “Come on,” Jisung replied, widening his eyes, “You could easily be younger! I mean, okay, maybe the grays give it away a little, but still. If you ignore them, you look—” he raised a hand to cover Minho’s hair from view, closing one eye, “like, five years younger.” It was true! Seriously.
Minho clicked his tongue before dismissively stating, “Flattery.”
“Not. I mean it,” Jisung insisted.
“Mmm, sure,” Minho said, sounding unimpressed, but nonetheless he smiled, a sort of twinkle in his gaze. “And you?”
Jisung answered, “I’m twenty-three. But I’ll be twenty-four really soon— on the 14th of next month.”
Minho hummed, twisting one of the buttons on his cardigan as he commented, “Yeah, you act like it.”
Jisung gasped in offense, lifting his head to whine, “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
The older man’s smile turned playful, and he leaned in slightly. “It’s not an inherently bad thing, Jisung-ah.” He leaned back once more, neglecting to properly answer the question, instead asking, “You’re a grad student, then?”
Jisung shook his head. “Actually, no; undergrad— a senior. Wanted to get my military service out of the way early, so I did it after freshman year, ‘n now I’m focusing on uni and all that.”
The librarian offered a nod of approval. “Ahh, smart choice. I did the same thing when I was in school, it helps you be more focused when you come back, knowing that commitment isn’t hanging over your head.” A glimmer of pride shot through Jisung at the approval, but then Minho glanced at his watch, and a flicker of displeasure crossed his face. He sighed, “Ah, it’s past the time that I meant to get someone for the counter while I catch up on some work in my office. I do, in fact, have responsibilities other than chatting.”
Jisung chuckled despite his slight disappointment, eyes drifting to the wooden flooring. Yikes; he hadn’t meant to take so much time away. “Oh, I get it! Don’t wanna be responsible for disrupting necessary functions around here.”
Minho’s lips curved subtly. “Hm, good to know you have a conscience. Well, have a good day, then. I’ll be seeing you around.” He turned to go, and Jisung felt a little shocked by the lack of opportunity for response. Minho had given a proper goodbye, technically, but he didn’t even let Jisung return the exchange! It wasn’t a concern, though— Minho did say he expected him back. Nonetheless, Jisung felt the urge to close their conversation properly, fishing a pen from his backpack pocket and snatching another sticky note from the counter. Hopefully Minho wouldn’t get irritated if stealing these things became a habit.
Quickly, he wrote, ‘I’ll be back once I’m finished!’, adding a little doodled smiley to the side of it this time. He looked at his handiwork for a second, satisfied. With one last glance towards the corner Minho had disappeared behind, Jisung headed out of the library, immediately whipping out his phone to text Felix, though he knew he was surely asleep. It was, what, midnight in Canada? Man, time differences were so ass.
Ji
Bro bro bro
I think I’m kinda rly
into that guy, like fr
You will be proud of me!
Bc I think I impressed him a lil
I also confirmed he’s single :>
Butttt
He also said dating isn’t a ‘priority’ idk
What say you?🎤
Text me when you’re up!!
An odd flutter skittered through Jisung’s body as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Typically, he really wouldn’t even think about going for someone who was clearly older than him. Like, much older. The kind of older who actually has real furniture in their home instead of the ‘it works’ setup. But the librarian and their discussions piqued his curiosity way further than mere ogling. And for what? A man in glasses and a sweater? Everyone and their grandmother owned at least five. What was special about the librarian? Hm. Maybe it was Minho’s novelty, his elegance, or something about the gentle yet assured tone of his voice. Jisung could still hear it in his ears, that little lilt when he got excited. Whatever it was, it stuck with him, and he decided he wanted to know more about Minho. And maybe, maybeee, the other man felt interested in him, too?
You’re making shit up.
Jisung frowned a little as he continued down the sidewalk home, kicking a stray pebble into the street. Intrigue isn’t always a positive thing. What if the perceived intrigue was a negative form of it? Shit. What if instead of clocking Jisung as a cool guy, Minho clocked Jisung as an awkward weirdo and thought, ‘Well, that one is good for entertainment purposes, I guess.’ Even worse, what if he thought of him like some sort of project, like, ‘Ah, a baby gay with a newfound literary complex’? No, no, no, that would be so fucking humiliating.
But a more hopeful voice in his head chimed in: He did seem interested, you’re not crazy. Minho had really been looking at him properly, and not just in the polite-librarian-checking-out-a-book way. It was with seemingly real intrigue, at the very least.
Or maybe that's what Jisung simply wanted to believe.
But is there any harm in being an optimist? Not really, right? Because when Minho had leaned in close, discussing the subtleties of the writing, he’d looked so alive. Like Jisung pulled something out of him that maybe he didn’t usually let out, even if just for a second. And that— that alone was enough to assure Jisung he had to go back. What if Minho had seen a spark of something there, too? To be honest, ultimately Jisung had to decide that ‘what if’ was too tempting to ignore, and much more preferred than the worrying alternatives.