#chrkitae

the next song that comes on the playlist sparks a burst of energy in haseok’s chest; it elicits a flutter nestled in between two quickened heartbeats. the partygoers around him were dressed to their tens, just as they’d all been back in their earlier high school days. when he was drinking, haseok found himself hyper observant of those around him, what they wore and their drink of choice. how seven years for him made such a difference seeing the faces of those he’d hadn’t seen in almost a decade. it’s no surprise, though. at the end of the day, they’re all the same as they’d been years ago.

a red solo cup to match his crinkled ralph lauren polo makes a perfect sight for someone looking to find the asshole of the party. haseok is left with his hair overtly tousled and flattened from the slight july humidity. his complexion had become sun kissed from spending too much time in the sun that afternoon, day drinking from the early afternoon hours until his drink in hand. though the nam family by default had invited all of the jin children, haseok was grateful his parents had chosen not to partake in the festivities — the last thing the eldest jin child needed was forcing a front in front of his parents for the umpteenth time in his adult life.

though, the next worst thing that could possibly happen at this party is running into ryu kitae in a moment of insobriety that haseok certainly did not call for. haseok nearly collides with the other male as he rounds the corner, the red contents of his solo cup sloshing upward in a trajectory aimed directly for haseok’s white slacks. 

haseok’s brain doesn’t register it, not until he’s lifting his head to glare at the other male, clothes completely untouched. nobody else is around to notice or care about the situation — another thought that comes to haseok as he is widening his eyes and furrowing his brows, visibly clenching his teeth in his exponentially growing fit of anger.

“you fucking idiot,” the solo cup is tossed aside to give haseok room to dramatically gesture to the small stain on the bottom hem of his pants, “you made me spill my goddamn wine all over myself. what the fuck are you doing standing around a corner? and why the fuck are you even here?” he already knows the answer to the latter question, it’s for hayoung, so god, why the fuck does he always manage to find where he is? 

nabi tries her absolute damndest to not make a home out of someone. home is stability, peace, vulnerability. people are fickle, impractical, discretionary.

but there’s always those few that tend to slip through the crevices without realizing, years of familiarity and camaraderie blurring lines of acquaintance to friendship to confidant; there’s no big bang of a moment where their relationship shifted, couldn’t pinpoint an exact date and time. she just remembers ryu kitae always being a constant in her life, regardless if he was in the forefront or the background. from childhood up until the hazard occupation that is adult life, he’s always just been there, somewhere. maybe it was that assurance that caused them to drift towards each other, and the unveiling of their hidden situations only solidified their friendship; a comfort in the lack of judgement and the parallels between their secrets. he isn’t a home, but something damn near close to it within nabi’s eyes.

and even though it seems that mocking kitae is pastime of hers at this point, she looks forward to the times they are able to meet ⏤ where they’re both able to shed the facade of confidence and competence, and allow vulnerability to come and go as it pleases, to take up space. there’s a sudden need for him that’s hard to explain, something that she doesn’t bother to analyze further ⏤ instead, texts him at four in the afternoon with a quick meet up tonight? pc bang after your shift because it’s not like she has anything to do better anyways, cruising around in a ride sharing vehicle going god knows where in finely pressed designer clothing, an attempt to appear busy. kitae knows she’s not just as well as she does.

"I would erase my first year in Hannam. I struggled a lot because, you know- I was a nerdy guy, I actually enjoyed studying, I was way too tall for his age... Yeah, it wasn’t a good time.”

ever since moving to korea, mimi had become hooked on delivery food apps given how frequently she depended on them. this habit inevitably carried over into her work life. as an intern, mimi was the lowest in regards to hierarchy. because of this, she was sent on frequent errand runs for her seniors, completing tasks both big and small. thankfully, delivery services made her job much simpler when it came to coffee and lunch runs. 

at first, she hadn’t realized her frequent use of one app in particular. their daily specials were always the best bang for the buck and that had been enough for her. however, mimi began to notice her orders growing plentiful overtime. had it been one or two extra side dishes every now and then, she probably would have paid no mind. but the frequent occurrence raised questions throughout the office, forcing mimi to reach out for answers. after placing the lunch orders for the day, she scrolled down immediately to the additional comments section to type out her concerns. 

[ yoon taehee-ssi, i’d like to start by saying thank you for all your continuous hard work. we appreciate the consistently speedy delivery. however, in the recent deliveries, i do feel concerned that the orders placed may have been mixed up somehow. regardless, i would like to personally thank you and personally reimburse you for your efforts. ]

— closed starter for @chrkitae​​; present days, at the nam’s private island.

Like a fish out of water, Haneul doesn’t really know why he agreed on going on that trip with his wife, to a divorce party of all things! But deep inside he knows the two of them needed some time to rest, to clear their minds and maybe have some time to think about themselves. Haneul knows he’ll be doing a lot of thinking in that place, watching the recently divorced couple and wondering if one day that’ll be him and his wife. Part of him wishes it’d never come to happen, but another part of him almost feels guilty for keeping the both of them stuck together.

Still, he tries to find ways to make things better for the two of them, tries to find a solution for their problem — one that doesn’t involve an innocent child being brought into a marriage that has been supported by a tenuous and fragile string of hope held by the couple. Would he even be able to fall in love again, he wonders; would he ever be able to love someone the same way he loved his wife in the early years of their marriage?

While he can’t find the answer to those questions yet, Haneul decides to give himself a little bit of a break: he goes to the bar, where he sees couples and groups of friends enjoying their drinks and laughing together. He feels so alone. But he sits by the bar and orders himself a drink, wishing that the alcohol could maybe encourage the answers to come out of their hiding place.