Chapter Text
"Lie on belly
Lie on back
Attempt suicide
Suggest sex."
— Fallout 1
His childhood friend Park Jungbae once told him, "You fall for people the way you fall for those cheap semi-permanent hair dyes. They make your hair fall off and never last past two weeks."
So, to defy his friend’s point, Gihun took it to the heart and started a streak of casual dating that, ironically, only made him fall in love with everyone he ever did as much as touching hands with.
Cho Sangwoo, another childhood friend, once said, "How you are, hyung, isn’t like the rest of us. You’re both too sensitive and too impulsive."
He wasn’t wrong. Gihun got into his first fight around eight years old, a poor attempt at protecting a classmate from some fifth-class bullies. In his defense, he tried diplomacy first, willing to trade all of his beautiful opalescent marbles in exchange for peace. The deal fell through. They made snarky remarks, so Gihun told them to fuck off. He walked home with a bleeding nose and bruised cheeks that took his parent three consecutive days to notice.
Frankly, they didn’t notice much about Gihun at all until his homeroom teacher warned them he was too soft and girly for a boy that he might grow up to be a homo, or whatever. Gihun felt like he was being cursed ever since by that fucker. Fuck him because he was right and Gihun did grow up liking men.
So anyway during his three years in Daehan Technical High School, he learned all things about cars and machines and wore boring t-shirt to prove his manhood. Worst fucking time of his life. To be unfashionable and looked like a below average Korean straight male with small penis. Until his father said, "You are too reactive. No boss like an misbehaving employee. How will you ever survive in the workplace?" Oh fun, Gihun thought, appa was talking like he's not an alcoholic for the first time in years. So Gihun stayed unemployed for two years after graduating, out of spite.
He started hanging around the wrong people. His first girlfriend told him, "You're too pretty and charming. I think you might cheat on me." Then she cheated on him with a richer, hotter jerk. Okay, queen of hypocrisy.
His first not-boyfriend told him, "You are such a chronic people pleaser." Then the dude left Gihun to marry a woman because his mother insisted so. Dude did not even like women! Another crown king for the hypocrite.
A doctor told him, "You have an universal blood type that you can give to anyone. But you can only receive from someone exactly like you." At twenty four, his mother chase him around the neighborhood with a broom because he stole her money to lend a friend in need, who then disappeared, predictably, forever.
It wasn’t the first time he was betrayed. But as he dodged his furious mother, he laughed and said, “But it's funny, eomma. Who else gets dumped and robbed on their birthday!?”
Somewhere around June 1999, Gihun moved to a gosiwon near Seoul National University on Sangwoo's suggestion. He’d just landed a job at Dragon Motor, and Sangwoo was busy studying to get in. Gihun considered his luck max out, finding a job in this post-IMF times. One of his distant relatives, who were the only middle-class success story in the family, went bankrupt overnight, courtesy of the financial crisis. The whole country stumbled with it, bruised in a way that Gihun could only describe as... well, emasculated.
Anyhow, the nation was on track for a few generations of depression and Gihun was on track for the 27 Club.
Among all that, Hwang Inho happened.
“Hyung, I have to get back to study. The manager should be back anytime now.” Sangwoo flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the trash like he was tossing away evidence.
"Oh, alright." Gihun was slightly startled at the sudden raise of decibel. Sangwoo was going on a rant about the evening manager of this gosiwon for half a hour. Gihun only caught some keywords: lonely, intense, only talk when rent is overdue. Overall, thrilling personality for a middle-aged man. Gihun zoned out after two minutes.
Across the street, a family grocery store glowed like a tiny domestic movie set. Behind the colorful stack of snacks, newspaper, manga, and soft drinks were the parents, two kids, the daughter in a school uniform, whole face smiling with shiny little white teeth. They looked like something out of a mental hospital ad, showing the emotional stability level people could reach after a full course treatment.
"Did you eat lunch today?" The mom asked, crouching to help her daughter put away her backpack. "Don't skip meal just because you might be late for class again, okay?" "Whoa, how can I skip it? Eomma's cooking is the best," said the daughter.
Gihun breathed out a full lung of smoke, "Did you eat yet, Sangwoo?" He asked absentmindedly.
"Just instant noodle these days for me." Sangwoo said, pushing his glasses up as it fell off the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, I gotta go. I'm on second floor, room 18, remember? Let me know when you are done with the sign up and get a room."
"Okay. Good luck with your study." Gihun nodded.
When Sangwoo left, the family across the street was also closing their curtains. Their little warm-lit world folded shut like Gihun had been denied entry.
He hadn’t been asked “Did you eat?” in years. Which was fine. Totally fine. People asked him “When will you get marry?” and “How much do you make per month?” all the time. Different kind of love language, just less edible. He flicked his finger and bits of cigarette butts fell to the ground. Sangwoo you little shit, how can you not ask it back!?
After another ten minutes of self-pity and nothingness, Gihun opened his bag and pulled out a camcorder. It was an old Sony Handycam he borrowed from the DVD shop of Jungbae's parent. He did not plan to return it anytime soon, but no need for them to know that.
The little red dot blinked slowly in the corner of the camera screen.
Gihun tested the zoom function, panning between the hallway lights and his own reflection in the convex mirror above the fire extinguisher. He was wearing his favorite leather necklace with a tight gray shirt, hugging his tiny waist beautifully. Gihun puffed his cheeks up and extruded his lips, making a face and then quietly laughing at himself.
And then, because life was full of surprise, Gihun heard angry shouting upstairs.
"Oh, drama!" He ran out to the entrance of the building, panning up.
“What the hell! Stop throwing things! I told you to clean up after—!” Someone was screaming from the fifth floor's window.
Before his camcorder could focus, something was thrown out the window, a book, a badminton racket, then a flower vase. Gihun's instinct picked up, cause him to immediately jump on one side. The vase shattered loudly on the sidewalk. But instead of empty space where he landed, Gihun's side hit a warm, solid body of someone who happened to unluckily stand next to him at that moment.
The sudden hit caused the person to stagger backward.
Like a movie scene in slow-motion, before Gihun's brain could register what was happening, a metal bucket tipped from the railing above, followed by a sheet of water cascaded down like a slap.
In perfect shaky VHS blur, the camera caught the man that Gihun accidentally pushed, who became the unfortunate victim of the falling water bucket, and soaked wet from head to toe. His hair dripped into the silver-rimmed glasses that almost fell off the bridge of his nose; the gray fabric of the suit's shoulders darkened, his black tie hung like a drowned ribbon. For a moment, the man was just standing there and blinking in stunned silence.
Gihun did not lower the camera. The lens trembled as it caught the man's face. Instead of looking miserable, the wet man looked grim, but in such a beautifully restrained and controlled way. Like an expensive cat falling into an expensive bathtub.
The man exhaled through his nose, muttering something under his breath in that low, fathomless tone that only people with bad days and no time for them have.
Very sexy.
From the fifth floor came a sudden stop in the throwing.
"Oh my god! Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Mr. Hwang! Are you alright?" The voice shrieked from above. Gihun could not see them clearly, and frankly, he did not care. For some reason, his eyes could not leave… Mr. Hwang. With sharp jawlines and striking eyes even under the thick rimmed glasses. Mr. Hwang looked around forty-something, which meant thirty-something if you squinted and had unresolved father issues.
The man waved dismissively and tiredly at the neighbor upstairs, as if he was used to this kind of incident, before turning his head and looked directly at the camcorder, or rather, boring into Gihun's eyes.
Uh oh. Holding his breath, Gihun braced himself for a storm of angry swearing. What would Mr. Hwang do? Call the police on him? Sue him? Shove him? Hit him? Spank him? Choke him? But instead, to Gihun's brief relief and absolute disappointment, the man just simply tilted his head, "What are you doing?"
The voice came out flat, deep and grave, like he would be someone who talked you through it.
Gihun lowered the camcorder. "Uh… I'm filming. For… archival purposes." Because there should be a record of someone meeting their new, hot, older landlord for the first time and seeing him get baptized by a random water bucket.
"Archival," the man repeated, unimpressed. "Did you at least get my good side?" A drop of water slid from his hair and splashed onto the pavement between them.
Gihun’s mouth hung open as he tried to think of a reply. The man gave him a slow once-over, and goosebumps ran up Gihun’s neck. His cheeks burned hot, shutting him right up.
Mr. Hwang brushed past him, walking into the gosiwon as he pulled out a keyring, and unlocked the door to the small manager’s office. Papers, dozen set of keys, and a flickering desk lamp came into view through the camcorder’s grainy screen.
"Are you the new tenant?" The older man threw his briefcase on top of his desk and reached for a towel hang by the door to wipe his face with.
"Yes. I'm here to sign up for a room." Gihun swallowed, following Mr. Hwang in the middle of the room. The camcorder was turned off and shoved into his bag like a dirty little secret.
"Name?"
"I'm Seong Gihun."
"Hwang Inho. One of the manager. Do you have your ID with you?"
Gihun could understand why Sangwoo said this man was intense. He indeed had that spirit of a micro-managing middle-manager who was permanently halfway through a mid-life crisis.
Yes, definitely Gihun's type.
"Here." Gihun patted down his jeans pockets and fished out his flat, overused wallet. A few coins slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the floor.
He froze. Then panic. He could not lose any money, not even one won! He crouched quickly, scooping at the coins before they rolled too far, muttering under his breath as if apologizing to gravity itself. One coin bounced toward the other man’s shoe and Gihun lunged for it.
He clutched his palm onto Inho's shoe vamp.
Silence.
This is fine. This is how all great love stories start. In humiliation and loose change. Gihun thought and swallowed, hard. Eyes tracing the flat, neatly ironed and half-damp trouser legs, he glanced up from under fluttering lashes to see Hwang Inho's crotch was parallel to his face. Intimidatingly. All thoughts left Gihun's brain. He wondered if Mr. Hot Manager was as big as he imagined. Like if Gihun were to pull the zipper down and grab it, would his fingers be able to wrap around it fully? Would it fit into his mouth or would it stretch his lips and throat to the max? Gihun's eyes got teary at the thought and he looked upward more to see Hwang Inho was watching him with an unreadable, darken look. A slow blink, the corner of the older man's eyes crinkled, yet his gaze stayed locked on Gihun wide, glistening eyes. Gihun's breath caught in his throat as he heard the other man's tongue clicked softly against his teeth. Total disbelief. As if he was not sure what to do with Gihun.
Gihun mentally punched himself in the face.
"You don't have to clean my office floor, you know. But I appreciate it." Inho slung the towel over one of his shoulder before bending one of his knee down, picked up a stray coin, and held it out between two fingers. Hwang Inho wore no wedding ring. Awesome. But the towel over his shoulder looked dangerously domestic Gihun briefly imagined him saying “Welcome home jagiya” before throwing another mental punch to his own face. Besides, Inho's nose was just a few centimeters away from Gihun's, close enough that his warm and a faint scent of woody cologne and tobacco seep through. The cheap but decent kind, really suited the man. Gihun made no move. The metal coin gleamed under the buzzing light between them.
"Is this your deposit?" Inho raised an eyebrow as Gihun held out his palm. Inho's fingertip hovered briefly above it as he gave back the coin.
"Only if the deposit just costs 20 won." Gihun pouted. He snapped out of his haze and gathered himself, watching Inho walked around the desk and sat down in his chair. Gihun give Inho his ID, finally.
"Actually it costs nothing. It's a gosiwon, we don't take deposit here." Inho said as he scribbled something on a clipboard, a dark, thin corner of carbon paper sticking out on one side. Then Inho slid the form across the desk, his eyes flicking up to meet Gihun’s for just a second longer than necessary. "Sign."
Gihun did as told. Thrillingly.
"Room 45, 6th floor, here is your key and the instruction. Your room has a small window but the fan is a bit moody." Inho slid a simple set of two silver keys and a leaflet across the desk. "Shared kitchen on the 3rd floor. Washing machines on the basement. Walls are thin so whatever you do, assume that everyone knows. Don't eat other people's food in the shared fridge, or you might get killed. Don’t smoke inside. And don’t bring trouble in. Any question?"
Gihun grinned, his spark coming back. "What if I am trouble, ahjussi?"
Inho titled his head, contemplating. "People usually call me whenever there's trouble in this building. Might have to keep an eye on you, then."
Gihun shivered at the thought of Inho's intense gaze locking on all over him.
"Right. Are you here everyday?" Gihun asked, watching at the way Inho's damp hair falling on top of his forehead, making him look softer. His hair roots around the ears had silver streaks. A detail so subtle but it deepened the flush creeping up his cheeks.
"Usually from 6 to midnight."
"You're late today then." The clock on the wall behind Inho stroke half past seven.
"I had a job interview." Inho sighed and looked down to a stack of paper work on his desk, starting to cross things on a list.
"Oh. How was it?"
"Bad." Inho said, a slight frown on his face as his pen stopped at something on the paper. Maybe someone was late for paying rent.
"Oh, uh, sorry to hear that."
Gihun wanted to drag out the small talk. But the scene of the family dinner across the street flashed by his mind, and he stopped in his tracks. What the fuck was he thinking and doing? Maybe Inho found him annoying already. Probably. Definitely. He should go check out his new room, he should also go check into a mental hospital for developing crushes on men decades older than him at light speed. Besides, Mr. Hwang did not ask Gihun a single questions back. Even though Gihun was used to it, he still felt utterly embarrassed.
Gihun sighed, hand about to raise mid-air for a goodbye. "Uh—"
"Did you eat?" Inho asked without looking up.
"I'm sorry?"
Inho looked up. "Have you had dinner?"
Oh no oh no no no.
"I…have. Yes." Gihun stuttered, his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.
"What did you have?" So casual.
"I ate at home with my mom before coming here. She made amazing galbijjim." Gihun chimed, mouth watering at the thought.
"Hmm. Good. Have to make sure you don't starve yourself just to pay rent." Inho blinked and then went back to his paperwork.
Gihun lingered for a moment, kind of in awe and kind of starstruck. His bar was so low and he hated himself. Turn out those self-help books his father was obsessed with were right. Sometimes a simple question could alter the trajectory of one's life. Indisputably.
Gihun practically skipped his way up six flights of stairs in the blink of an eye, grinning like an idiot.
Love at first sight was a bit of a overstatement. But it sounded cool, like in a Wong Kar-Wai kind of movie, so love at first sight it was.
"No. You said the same thing about the last guy," Saebyeok blew out three perfect circle of smoke before grounding the Lucky Strike under her heels. "It was not love at first sight, Gihun. You're just horny for older men."
Gihun crunched his nose, stirring his pink soda with a straw. "Isn't being horny for the man you're in love with part of the deal?"
Saebyeok glanced at Jiyeong as the word "in love" landed. Next to where they sat, her girlfriend was playing the claw machine aggressively. Jiyeong had lost three times in a row. Scam machine, she swore under her breath. Gihun found it endearing. Saebyeok sighed and looked back at Gihun's sulking face.
"Sure but, from what you just told me, you don't know anything about him. Is he even interested in men? Is he a good person? He could be a dirty old man you know, like in one of those pornography comic book."
"Only if that makes me the slutty housewife wearing lace pantie that he tries to pinch in the supermarket." Gihun slurped his soda, loudly.
"Ewww. Fuck off Gihun. Never talk to me ever again." Saebyeok covered her ears in horror. Gihun started laughing maniacally, folding in half while Saebyeok was folding in half also, but to fake throwing up in her mouth.
"Mr. Hwang is way too hot to be a dirty old man though." Gihun grinned cheerfully, trying to pull Saebyeok back up.
She dug in her cigarette pack for another one. It was her fifth today. "You're disgusting, you know. Whatever, sure. Are you planning to find out?"
Gihun slurped the rest of the pink liquid soda, louder and louder.
"Slrrrprprrrrrr."
He did want to know if Hwang Inho was into men and single. But it was impossible for Gihun to make any kind of strategic plan in life. He was simply not smart enough. As in, not Sangwoo's kind of book smart. Not Saebyeok's kind of street smart. Not Jiyeong's kind of self-understanding smart. And not even Jungbae's kind of people smart either.
What Gihun was good at, was to react and never obey any kind of restriction. He thought of how him being a silly, chaotic guy made him many good friends. He grew up stealing all kind of fruits from the neighbor's garden with Jungbae and Sangwoo. Never once got caught. Then a year back, Saebyeok and Jiyeong adopted him into their chaos in Itaewon, mostly because he kept showing up at Homo Hill and looked like someone who needed supervision. Starting when Jiyeong saw him at one of the underground queer bar and asked if he could pose as her boyfriend. Just for a photo, she said. So my parents stop suspecting. He said sure… for a small fee. (Boundaries, baby.) It somehow worked, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.
“If you ever want to take me home to your parents,” Jiyeong had said later, “I can be your fake girlfriend too.” He laughed. If only it were that simple. After a few years of emotional acrobatics and eating instant noodles with denial sauce, he finally told his mother the truth.
Her reaction? About what he expected.
"So you’re a homosexual?"
"I’m also into women."
"Oh, so you’re a normal man then. You’re just… experimenting?"
"No, I truly like men how I like women. Wait. Maybe a bit less, because most men are assholes."
And then his mother did what every loving parent does when reality starts to itch: she ignored it.
He didn’t blame her. But something shifted that day, like someone slowly pulling the rug from under his feet while smiling politely.
That’s when he moved out.
Sangwoo and Jungbae took it better.
“I see,” said Sangwoo, like he’d just been told the weather report.
Jungbae, being the annoying prick that he was, asked, "Does that mean you can fall in love with anyone? If so, why are you still painfully single?"
Gihun had stared at him. Turned out half of the universal queer experience was just existential loneliness and unsolicited dating advice.
Right now, staring into Saebyeok's eyes as she gave him her signature eyebrow raise of repulsion, something in Gihun' stomach squirm.
He sighed and put his hand on hers, "Saebyeok-ah, I'd be honest with you and say, I don't think I'll do anything about Mr. Hwang, okay? You know how it is for me. All the crush fade away eventually. Trust, in two weeks I won't even remember his name!"
In two weeks, Gihun had went through at least three hundreds and thirty five point five comprehensive plans to find out whether Hwang Inho was into men and single or not.
His conclusion: Hwang Inho was either the most unreadable man on the planet or a sadist who got off on Gihun's confusion.
Gihun spent the first three days solely watching the older man from afar. What he had learned was an amount of as little information as a fly's brain.
One: Hwang Inho was allergic to small talk. He truly never opened his mouth unless it was about rent, tenants who smoked in their room and occasionally, a low, gutter "hmm" of acknowledgement at people who politely said hi to him.
Two: His day consisted of four major tasks: fixing leaks, unclogging toilet, receiving supplies for the building, and doing paperwork with a grimace on his face in the manager’s office like everything in existence had personally offended him.
Every attempt to get the right kind of attention from Mr. Hwang had ricocheted like a boomerang firework - so bright, loud, and landing nowhere good except exploding right back at Gihun's face.
The man smiled only when something truly deserved it, which apparently didn’t include Gihun’s jokes, quirky remarks or funny shirt with rock band reference.
But Gihun wasn’t one to surrender. Not to heartbreak, poverty, or generational trauma. Certainly not to a pair of square glasses and a stubborn jawline.
So he declared war, in private, with himself, in his head. Every war and every battle —lose, or win, had a name and so would his. Gihun grinned evilly every time he thought it.
This was operation "Decoding Hot Landlord."
The first mission was subtle reconnaissance.
One evening, Gihun loitered by the shared kitchen more than usual, waiting. He had dinner with Sangwoo but he left for his hard studying session early. Gihun was watching the news with a few guys from the third floor when he yawned and accidentally pulled the wrong jaw muscles, just as the target finally appeared. In a heartbeat, he put both his legs down from the table in an attempt to look more humble and held up the camera that was hanging around his neck for camouflage, acting as if he had been filming the whole time.
"Good evening, ahjussi." He said, fluttering his lashes at Mr. Hwang as the man just went straight up to the stove to make dinner. His crush was wearing a black tank top and a casual slack pant today, back facing him. Under the fluorescent light, Gihun could see the little sweat gleaming on Inho's honey skin. Thank you summer heat and black tank top. Inho had exquisite arms, back and shoulders. Like, Gihun's legs would fit perfectly on top of Inho' shoulders, he was sure of it. Mr. Hwang's muscles were not as defined as someone who worked out regularly but he looked strong and sturdy, with a little bit of belly pouch, which made it even hotter.
Mr. Hwang briefly glanced at him over his shoulder. "Good evening Gihun. Filming for archival purpose again today?"
"Kind of. I’m filming a documentary!" Gihun secretly wiped away the drool that was forming around his mouth with his sleeves. He's gross, he knew. "The subject is gosiwon cuisine."
Genre: psychological horror.
Gihun stood up, coming closer to Inho and leaned his back on the kitchen counter, sucking his stomach in. He watched a sweat drop onto the bright floor tiles from Inho's cutting movement and chose that moment to overcome his crippling self-awareness.
Gihun dropped his voice into something honeyed and dangerous. "Ahjussi, do you think my bangs look better slicked back or covering my forehead?"
Inho barely looked up from his cutting board. "Up. Feel free to cover your whole head while standing here so no hair falls into my food as well."
Words like a door just slammed really hard into Gihun's face. He pouted until his lips strained and twitchy, struggling to keep his so-called seductive voice. "That’s… that's not what my question is about!"
"What's with the voice? You have sore throat or something?" Inho did not even spare him a glance.
Gihun's jaw dropped on the floor. "No I'm not! You! Don't understand anything!" He spatted out and forcefully closed the camera's screen.
"Then clarify," Inho said, reaching over to grab a spoon and stir his rich, golden broth. Over the stream rising, Gihun imagined himself drown to death in the pot.
Operation failed.
Strike one.
But what was Seong Gihun even about if not die-hard stubbornness and stupidity?
The day after, another opportunity came to Gihun while he struggled with the coin slot of the the vending machine. His chip bag was stuck inside even after he had put coin in. Usually he would groan at all the inconvenience and use trick to get free snack for revenge but guess what? Gihun would use the bad luck to his advantage today.
Before Gihun even needed to run downstairs to get Inho, the familiar footsteps had already approaching him. Inho was having his last security check or whatever. Gihun held back the bursting excitement and started acting all frustrated.
"Oh no! I'm so hungry! Stupid machine! Why doesn't it come down?" He was hoping it was convincing, in a cute way.
"Is it jammed again?" came Inho’s voice from behind.
"Yes. Can you help me? I'm starving." Gihun looked back at the man. The hallway light was turned off, making the cold, blue luminescence from the vending machine the only source of light. Gihun could see Inho's calm, quiet composure underneath the soft glimmer. He held his breath.
"Did you not eat properly today?" Inho asked, stepping closer. A faint frown on his face.
"Are you worried about me, ahjussi?" Gihun purred. Perhaps a win today?
"No. Just thinking about the amount of paperwork I'd have to go through if someone died of malnutrition in this building."
Gihun pouted. False alarm. Not a win.
Inho was next to him now, he fished out his stack of 30-something keys.
“Move,” Inho said.
Gihun had his back on the vending machine door. He moved a tiny bit to the left so Inho could unlock it but he stayed as close and still as if trying to prove a point. (Translation: He did not know what he was doing but the proximity with his landlord slash crush made his brain malfunction and his heart skip three beats.)
Inho seemed puzzled, unlocking the vending machine. "I can't open it if you're standing like that."
A shrug.
"I'm not going to steal your chip, Gihun." Inho titled his head.
Gihun stood perfectly still, taking in the faint scent the clean, old-fashioned aftershave that hit him like a sucker punch. "It's okay. I can open it myself." He muttered.
"Fine," Inho leaned his shoulder against the machine, gesturing a do-as-you-pleased.
Gihun opened the vending machine door and reached for his snack. However, his hand stopped half way, considering. "Wait. Did I pick this one or that one?"
This was not a drill. Gihun actually forgot if he picked the shrimp cracker or the potato stick. Did it even matter, though? The kind of snack he wanted to eat was not those in front of him, but one standing right behind him right now.
"You’re hopeless." Inho's voice was low, somehow right next to his ear.
Gihun didn’t expect it, but the quiet press of presence behind him immediately hushed his brain silent. Inho just stepped in, just enough for the space between them to disappear. Every movement felt like time just slow down just for Gihun. The sturdy arm sliding past his shoulder, steady and deliberate, a brush of warmth against his back, the faint shift of breath, rustling sound of fabric, and suddenly the vending machine's hum was the only sound anchoring him. His pulse matched its rhythm, yet his breath was held and at the same time Inho's breath felt like a phantom against his ear.
"Hopelessly charming?" Gihun tried to calm his increased heart rate by quipping, hand gripping hard against the side of the door, and smiling full wattage.
"Hopelessly annoying." Inho said, taking both packs of chip and another can of juice. He shoved all of them into Gihun's hands then quickly closed the vending machine and locked it.
"You keep saying that," Gihun said, eyes full of stars, staring back and forth between Inho's ever unreadable face and the snacks, beaming beautifully. “But why would you give an annoying person this much food?”
Inho looked at him then, eyes softened, or maybe it was just the lighting. "So you can eat and shut up. Sleep early, Gihun."
"Thank y—" And before Gihun could say anything back, Inho walked away, leaving him blinking at the empty hallway like waking up from a feverish dream.
Gihun felt torn. Was it a win or a loss?
He still did not know if Hwang Inho was single and into men or not. What he did know was his knees were incredibly weak for this man Gihun could have just drop onto the floor right there and—
Gihun shook his head.
Operation still failed.
Strike two.
Two days later, a brilliant idea came while Gihun was elbow deep into the hood of a light pink Hyundai Stellar. The car was hand painted and customized so prettily it inspired Gihun's next mission. He jerked up so fast from the excitement his head hit the inner car hood.
Everyone was looking at him.
Smiling and apologizing, he dragged Jungbae to one side and begged his best friend to cover for him so he could get off work early.
"You've been acting weird lately." Jungbae squinted his eyes. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
"No." Gihun lied.
"Sorry I'm busy today, can't help you!" Jungbae raised an eyebrow and announced, turning away.
"Jungbae wait!" Gihun grabbed his friend's hand and sighed loudly.
After half an hour of de-briefing over oil and screwdrivers, Jungbae gave him the most sympathetic eyes. "Gihun-ah, just because the guy gave you some free snack, doesn't mean he's into men."
"Then explain this." Gihun mimicked Inho’s low, calm voice. "'Did you eat?' Like that. Soft and sexy. Like he cares about my well-being."
"That’s called being polite," Jungbae said.
"You don’t get it. It’s the tone. The "I'm-deeply-worried-about-you-but-I'm-emotionally-constipated-so-I-have-to-act-all-nonchalant-and-cool" tone. Makes my stomach do gymnastics."
His best friend patted him lightly in the back, shaking his head.
In the end, Jungbae covered for him out of pity and Gihun managed to sneak out half an hour early from work to get to the mall.
He brought a pastel pink crop top in the women section that revealed the killer line of his waist.
The plan was excellent in his head.
In reality, it was just another bad decision Tuesday.
Gihun timed it perfectly as usual. Following Mr. Hwang's trail by asking some random tenants, and the clues led him to the east wing. There were mostly storage rooms on this side so usually the space was empty and quiet.
Which made it the perfect location for Gihun's third mission.
Catching the sight of Inho on a ladder repairing a ceiling light near the stairwell, Gihun hid behind a wall and prepared by taking off his flannel shirt and wrapping it around his hip, revealing the pink crop top underneath. The crop top hugged both of his pecks perfectly, making his chest full and his waistline even narrower, flattering his form stunningly. Or so he thought. Sometimes when he was feeling himself, Gihun would bar hop around Itaewon with Jiyeong and Saebyeok in those slutty Y2K outfits, knowing full well that he'd be the centerpiece of attention, and that men would look at him, and that they always had the same kind of look in their gaze — with different intensity, of course, but all was filled with lust and wanting and primitive desire and sometimes even disgust or envy. And no matter what he found in those gaze, they were all very telling, and they were the truth.
He wondered what kind of look Mr. Hwang would give him. All-heart, lustful, disgust, pity eyes like the rest of them? Or perhaps something more in line with Inho's character: Mild confusion followed by a lifetime ban from the building?
He wasn’t ready for any of them. But readiness was never really his thing.
So, ever the optimist, or maybe just terminally stupid, Gihun shoved the thought aside, straightened his back, and decided to pretend his life was a music video. He took a deep breath, hummed something overly cheerful from the radio, and strutted out toward Inho.
"Evening, Mr. Hwang," Gihun chirped, getting closer.
The landlord glanced at him. Quick acknowledgement. And back to his work. Something clicked in his brain. And back at Gihun. Again. A look much longer than usual. Oh my god he's really looking. Gihun's heart jumped out of his chest, squirming somewhere on an imaginary floor as part of its death throes. He bored his eyes into Inho's face, trying to catch every single emotions (if any) flashing by.
And there was…
None?
Or, to be precise, his face was as unreadable as a doctor's handwriting. Same old, same old. Just a look slightly longer than usual.
Inho turned back to the ceiling light. "Aren’t you worried you’ll get diarrhea from exposing your stomach to the cold?"
Of all the things Gihun expected to happen, to hear and see, this was not any of them. Gihun wanted to bare his teeth and hissed at the old man like an angry cat. Once again that flat and as-a-matter-of-fact tone that Gihun hated (loved) so much, rambling something so unexpressive and unbelievably unimaginable.
What the fuck is wrong with Hwang Inho?
"W-what do you even mean?" Gihun spat out, shakily.
"Prolonged exposure of the abdomen to low temperatures increases the risk of gastrointestinal distress." Inho said, putting a new light bulb in place. "Sometimes I think the youth fashion is very impractical. You should wear more clothes if you go outside."
Gihun was totally rendered speechless.
Ocean waves of emotions passed through him. Surprise, embarrassment, humor, frustration, embarrassment (again), anger, arousal, so much arousal. This fucking old man was getting on his nerves like no other! Gihun needed to be on all four and be fucked by him for hours or else he'd burst into flames. He also wanted to sit down on the floor and cry vacuously. Or laugh like a maniac. Or both. Whatever confused Inho more.
Gihun's eyes were tearing up. Shibal his life. He should have left now to save face. He should—
"It looks very nice on you though." Inho murmured, softly and barely audible but Gihun caught it immediately over the absolute quietness.
Gihun looked down at his shoes, then back at Hwang Inho on the ladder. He blinked away the tears as the words echoed in his mind, over and over again like an eternal record of his favorite song, it looks very nice on you, it looks very nice on you, it looks very nice on you.
How can I ever stop this godforsaken curse of a crush if ahjussi keep acting like that? His cheeks felt warm, an unanticipated flush that had become too familiar whenever Gihun was around Inho. His head was dizzy and his brain short-circuited for a moment before Gihun answered all of it with a random comment, "Thanks. Your new haircut looks good."
Paused. Then Inho looked at him with a slight raise of eyebrow. "Didn't have any haircut since the last time you saw me."
The sudden surge of awkwardness pulled Gihun back to reality. "Oh. Well, you look different."
"Different how?"
"I mean, uh," Gihun was going to say 'never mind' but backing down now might have made the snowball of awkwardness grow even bigger and bigger. "Maybe it’s just the lighting, or the angle. Makes you look younger."
Inho’s pause was so brief most people wouldn’t notice it. But Gihun did.
"Trying to get a discount on your rent?" Inho asked, unimpressed.
"Would that work?" Gihun peered up, a sly smile tugged on his lips.
"No."
The smile was replaced by a pout. He knew Inho was going to say that.
"Fine."
They fell back to the half-awkward half comfortable silence. Gihun stood there as the moment stretched out, longer and longer, tapping his shoe impatiently.
"Do you need help, ahjussi? You've been changing that light bulb forever." Gihun hovered over Inho's ladder.
"No."
From down here, Gihun had such a splendid view of Inho' sharp jawline. It was a bit tight for some reason. Gihun did not realize changing light bulb was that hard for old people. He took one unnecessary step closer, watching Inho’s shoulders move under his shirt. Dangerous territory. Made him consider religion again.
"You sure? I’m really skilled with my hands."
That earned him a quick, sharp and assessing glance, before Inho turned back to the light.
"No." Short and brutal. Another bullet to the ego.
Gihun stayed anyway, because clearly he had no survival instinct.
"Just asking," he said. "You know, in case you electrocute yourself or something."
"I’ve done this thousands of times before."
And I’ve humiliated myself before, Gihun thought. So we have something to bond over.
"You are slow for someone who has done this thousands of times before."
He heard a small tongue click of defeat from Inho, which was much better than the blank face of nothingness. Maybe Gihun should just start being clinical annoying toward his landlord from now on, for revenge.
Darting his eyes around, Gihun's eyes landed on a stack of chairs lurking behind the half open storage room behind them. He grabbed one of the highest chair and put it next to Inho's ladder.
The chair wobbled before Gihun even stepped on it, which should’ve been his first red flag. The second was Inho’s tone, that low, pinched way when he said, "Get down Gihun, you're going to fall." Like a satirical warning.
Guess what ahjussi, I've already fallen, and face flat on the floor kind of falling as that, a thought sneaked pass Gihun's mind. "Let me help, ahjussi."
"I used to be a policeman, I think I can handle a ceiling light." Inho said, the frown deepened as he watched the chair Gihun was stepping on like a hawk. Their faces were almost level now, Inho's shoulder just a breath away.
An ex-policeman huh? That explained it. The posture, the silence, the way he probably judged people by how they did laundry. Gihun was never getting along with cop. He liked to think of himself as a morally gray character. Even if it just meant that he used to record songs off the radio onto blank cassettes and label them "originals." Piracy, basically. A criminal mind.
But opposite attracted, as people always said.
"Yeah, and look where that got you," Gihun muttered under his breath, standing straight and peering toward the broken light.
Inho froze, head turning slowly downward. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Gihun said too fast, pretending to study the bulb. "Just saying teamwork makes the dream work."
"Teamwork?" Inho scoffed. "It's not teamwork when you're just here to distract me. That’s called liability."
"Distracting how?" His brain latched onto one word among that sentence, for obvious reason. Please tell me it's because I'm too sexy in this crop top. Gihun looked up at Mr.Hwang, all stern jawline, sleeves rolled up, showing beautiful blue veins tracing his forearm like a constellation and Gihun tried not to visibly melt.
Inho swallowed, opening his mouth.
And that’s when the chair leg snapped.
The world tilted, and for a brief, godless second, Gihun saw his life flash before his eyes: every bad hair dyes, that one time he got caught watching gay porn in an internet cafe, the itchy sweat rash on his thighs the first time he tried wearing high stocking, and the faint shape of Inho’s unimpressed expression.
But before gravity could do its worst, Inho jumped.
A thud, a sharp inhale, and then Gihun was staring up at the ceiling light again. Strong arms wrapped around him, one protectively hugging his waist and the other caressing his neck. Inho's face was just centimeter away from him, breath held and the passive face broke into something akin to panic for the first time.
Both the ladder and the chair clattered harmlessly to the floor beside them.
For a long, stunned second, neither spoke. Gihun could feel the man’s heartbeat thudding against his ribs, too steady for how fast his own was going.
Inho grunted, a hint of annoyance clouded his eyes. "I told you you were going to fall off."
"Ahjussi," Gihun started, breathless and totally in awe. "You saved me."
Inho's lips twitched. "What the hell did you expect me to do? Let you crack your head open in my hallway?"
"I dunno," Gihun grinned, dazed and cocky and definitely aroused. He tried to lowered his hip onto the floor to avoid Inho discover his half-boner, which risked throwing all of his future plans out the window. "Wasn’t expecting my landlord to perform a full action movie stunt. You must care so much about me."
"I care about potential lawsuits." Inho set him down, gently, and then his expression turned unreadable once more.
Gihun huffed, wanting to hold onto his crush and keeping him on top of him on the floor out of spite and confusion and the unexpected spike of dopamine and adrenaline, but then he caught them.
Inho must have felt like his ears were such traitorous things, because they were bright red.
Gihun sat up.
Operation kinda failed but progress had been made.
Strike three, maybe?