Chapter Text
are u there?
yeah, but do i order now or wait?
save a seat n wait
read a book while u wait
u look cute when u read
no, what if i dont see him when he walks in?
tyong u shudve come w me
taeil i love u rly i do but
i dont wanna b on ur date for u
did i come too early should i leave
T A E I L
just stop txtin me n chill and tell me everything ltr
wait i think hes here
asdfjhkjfh
when i first met u you seemed so cool and older n
mysterious and rly this is the truth smh
After Taeil had told Taeyong what was said with Sicheng, Taeyong didn’t talk much for the rest of their evening. They had planned to study the next day, but Taeyong suddenly canceled without explanation. About an hour before Taeil left to meet Sicheng, however, he had to turn the sound off his phone to keep sane about the waves of messages coming in, full of questions and advice from his friend.
The aroma of coffee seemed to float visibly through the air. Taeil leaned back and closed his eyes to take it in. Posters from old Chinese movies decorated the walls, but their bright reds and yellows clashed with the pastel blue cushioned seating, which in turn clashed with the lo-fi music playing in the background. Taeil couldn’t blame Sicheng for not texting him much other than a confirmation and place, being a usually quiet person himself. But it left him wanting more.
A bell by the entrance rang, and Taeil heard the barista exclaim with joy. He focused on the rhythms of her speaking Mandarin to the customer that came in. Then he heard it, and lifted his head up from the back of the chair so fast he saw black in the edges of his vision. Taeil’s eyebrows tensed looking at Sicheng from afar. Sicheng finished his conversation with the barista and turned further into the room, prompting Taeil to stand up and wave. Sicheng told one last thing to the barista and walked over.
“Hello! I ordered for us, I hope you don’t mind. I know what this place does best. Please, let’s sit.” Sicheng gestured to the seats and sat himself with his hands folded like he was a video for an etiquette course. Taeil sat, but leaned forward, and told Sicheng he didn’t have to be so formal if he didn’t want to be. Sicheng laughed at himself and relaxed his shoulders, but before long he returned to a stiff back.
The first thing Sicheng had noticed when he walked in was Taeil’s hair sitting perfectly above a knit, black turtleneck. He even wore shiny, polished boots. Sicheng looked down at his own clothes. With a hoodie under a bold patterned trench coat, finished by converse with mud stains, he realized he had underdressed for the interview. Hurriedly, he had asked the barista to serve americano with their freshest coffee beans, and that he would pay when he left in case they ordered anything else. Sitting before such a posh man in his favorite café, Sicheng couldn’t help but to sit a little taller; he was equal parts trying to impress, and impressed with himself. With a little show of confidence, he thought, I have a company position in the bag.
“So, I mean,” Taeil chuckled so that his teeth shined, which Sicheng found charming, “I hate to start with such inane questions, but,” Taeil was unsure if it was the situation, the question, or just him that made it feel so laughable, “how do you do what you do? Like, where does all that passion come from?”
“That’s not inane, you’re starting with the hard ones! Mmm..” As Sicheng started to roll his head around to think of an answer, the coffees came. The click of the mugs onto the table between them kept time with the café music, and the steam curling away distracted the both of them. Sicheng saw Taeil’s brown eyes squint. He bit his lip as Taeil took a sip of the drink to burst out in giggles after.
“Americano? That’s their specialty?” Sicheng tried not to pout.
“They use really fresh beans here, and it’s never too watery. If you don’t like it, we can order something else—”
“No, no! Americano is my favorite way to drink coffee. It’s just, well, I guess my expectations of you are overtaken once again.” They smiled at each other for a moment.
Sicheng shook his head. “But, your question. I started dancing when I was young. I didn’t get to the acting part until college. The passion... comes from the story itself.” He was so succinct and precise. I need to clean up my speech habits, thought Taeil.
“So you’re a storyteller?” Sicheng nodded. “I understand that.”
Warmed up by conversations and coffee, the two started to go back and forth about art, theater, music, dance, and the like. At one point, Sicheng convinced the owner to play classical music instead, which made Taeil put his face in his hands, but happy. They finished their drinks, and the barista took the mugs without notice, the rest of the café not given another thought. Until, Taeil’s phone began to ring, a call from Taeyong. Apologizing, Taeil stepped outside to answer.
Sicheng wasn’t sure what to do to pass the time. He had to do a double take when he flipped his wrist to read his watch. An hour had passed from a more comfortable chat than he had the pleasure of participating in for a long time. He patted his hands on his thighs, read the posters around the walls, and realized, blinking rapidly, that he didn’t even know Taeil’s company, whether it was dance or acting or some other, and what he was scouting for. The entrance’s bell rang.
“Is everything alright?” Sicheng asked to be polite.
“Oh, yeah, just a call from a friend who doesn’t usually. Better to check anyway.”
“Of course. So, I had a question...”
“Yeah?”
“Well, we’ve been talking but I still don’t know... what it is that you’re scouting for.” Taeil tilted his head as if to listen better. He shifted in his seat, and his heart sped up a few beats.
“Scouting?”
“Maybe you call it something different. You did come to the show looking to recruit people for your company, right?” Sicheng spoke each word slowly and carefully. Taeil felt something from the pit of his stomach tugging his heart down so that it couldn’t beat properly. He shut his eyes tight and otherwise wrinkled his small face for a moment. He took a deep breath. It was hard for Taeil to respond, looking at the face of the man who had somehow enchanted him after a single evening and single coffee. Sicheng’s face faded more every moment Taeil didn’t speak.
“Ah, Dong Sicheng.” Taeil ran his hand through his hair until it tugged down on his neck. “I’m not even someone who usually does stuff like this, ah... Ah, Sicheng, I’m.. Well, I’m sorry for the confusion, but I’m not a company scouter. I just, agh, well, I wanted to....” He couldn’t finish. Sicheng’s face had become entirely cold, his body entirely motionless.
“I’m sorry for misunderstanding.” He said robotically. He swiftly swept up his coat, and on his way out, slapped down a twenty on the counter for the drinks without so much as a look to the barista. He stepped out the door and left without any other words or glances, leaving Taeil jaw open on the pale blue cushioned seat, his insides turning to stone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yuta didn’t know what to do with the crumpled mess of blankets and used tissues taking up residence on his couch. It didn’t want food, or want to use the restroom, or even speak. Every once and awhile a new tissue would be thrown out from the mountain of textile, and Yuta was sure this was a precursor to volcanic eruptions. He just wasn’t sure what to do.
Sicheng had slammed open the door around noon, storming directly to every cupboard and closet he knew Yuta kept blankets in until his construction was complete, and then he collapsed.
“How did you even get in here?” Yuta spilled milk on his bare chest and kitchen floor when it happened, in the midst of preparing cereal. “The door was locked.” A brass key came flying out the blanket-mountain and hit the apartment wall. “Oh, the spare. I was wondering where that went.” Just barely discernable, Yuta heard Sicheng whine under the fabric. He sat down by where he guessed Sicheng’s feet were and tried to pat the human-shaped blob. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened, Si.” Another whine, but soon a pair of hands and eyes emerged from the comforting mass.
“thmm scnnt wmmmt rellmmm.” Yuta flicked Sicheng’s forehead. “YA!”
“Just checking.” Another humph.
“The scout wasn’t real.”
“You got scammed!” Yuta stood up as he shouted.
“No. It was my fault. I just assumed... But he just...” Sicheng hid his face again as his voice began to crack. Yuta sat back down and resumed patting.
“So, you thought you met a scout after the show but it was just a student?”
“I thought it was my time.” Sicheng’s voice was muffled by the blankets again, but audible this time. A snotty sniff was also audible. Yuta grimaced and hoped Sicheng would take the blankets home to wash himself. “I thought I was doing great. He seemed so professional. It just made sense. We spoke for more than an hour.”
“Damn. You? Speak? For an hour?”
“I know!” Sicheng began to wail, and Yuta grew frantic. As a last resort, Yuta jumped onto Sicheng’s whole body for a hug; Sicheng promptly shoved him off to the floor with a thud. Sicheng rolled off the uppermost blankets so he could properly roll his eyes at Yuta. “What are you doing? I’m in pain!”
“That’s the point. Dong Sicheng can’t cry. It hurts me.” Yuta smiled with his lips and blinked twice at the blanket monster. He lost count of how many times Sicheng had sighed, but his bear attack seemed to have worked for the moment. “That’s better, right?” Sicheng nodded. “Now that you’re sitting up, tell me who I need to go beat up.” Yuta’s face had evened out to show his sincerity. Sicheng played with the fibres of the blanket on top.
“Don’t beat anyone up.” He replied in a small voice. This time the party guilty of heavy sighing was Yuta. The only thing he hated more than seeing Sicheng upset was seeing Sicheng upset because of someone else.
“I hate to say it, but this seems to be about more than just a scout.” Sicheng brought his eyes up to meet his friend’s. It was a silent question. “You spoke with this guy, what’s his name—”
“Moon Taeil.” Sicheng abruptly corrected. Yuta turned his hands out to say you’re proving my point, here!
“You spoke with this Moon Taeil, whom you’ve called chic, charming, you took him to your favorite café, I mean...” Yuta flourished his hands to say et. cetera and hence. Sicheng raised his eyebrows, telling Yuta soo, what? Yuta scoffed and stood up to walk around the living room table. “Soo, I mean, Sicheng!”
“What!”
“You must like him!”
“What? No.” The dancer crossed his arms and began to slowly slide back down the couch.
“It’s okay to be gay, Si.”
“What? That’s not it, Nakamoto. I’m just upset.”
“Oookayyy.” Yuta said sarcastically. “Well, I’m gonna go eat my cereal, which is soggy, now, by the way, and I’ll leave you here to wallow in your loveless misery. Oh, and wash those blankets when you’re done lamenting, please.” Yuta turned to walk back toward the kitchen, but was stopped by protest.
“No, it’s just—” Sicheng stopped when he saw Yuta turn around with a fat smile. Sicheng groaned and retreated to the blankets, realizing the answer to his own question.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taeil hadn’t returned Taeyong’s calls from Monday, nor Tuesday, nor Wednesday. He hadn’t answered anyone’s calls. He went to class late, left early, and locked himself in his favorite piano practice room for the remainder of the time. Melancholic chords played at top volume oozed through the walls, until even some of the nearby students started to bang on the adjacent walls asking Taeil to turn it down a little, please, we need to work too. More than anything, he told himself, he was simply embarrassed and determined to limit any further human interaction as much as possible. For the rest of the week, at least. For the rest of his life, if need be.
On Thursday, there were enough inches of snow on the ground to delay Taeil’s schedule. He practically ran to the piano room after music theory. After seeing what lie beyond, he tried to quickly shut the door and walk to a different room, but Taeyong was quicker and nimbler. He pulled his friend into the room and sat him down at the piano intervention style. Taeil hid his head in his arms, folded on the piano top.
“What, Tyong?”
“What, Tyong?” Taeyong’s voice raised an octave. “What, Tyong? You don’t make any contact with the outside world, me included, for four days, and you say, What, Tyong? Indeed!” Taeil patted on the piano bench without lifting his head Once Taeyong obediently sat down, Taeil explained what happened four days prior. Taeyong patiently listened to every word without interruptions, distraught at his friend’s distress. He didn’t have much to contribute to the situation other than the gee, sorrys and the gosh, that’s a really unfortunate misunderstanding.
“I want to hide until I feel like myself again. I wish... I just haven’t connected with someone like that since—”
“Bu bu bum! Don’t say his name,” Taeyong warned. “We promised.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to go to any more plays.”
“Good! You’re joking. You’ll be back at full power in no time.” A cell phone started buzzing in a bag somewhere.
“If that’s mine, can you check it for me? I don’t feel like reading right now.” Taeil stretched his fingers and started to warm up quietly on the piano while Taeyong started to fill Taeil in on his missed time. He stopped talking when he checked Taeil’s phone. By the time Taeil had finished one full song, Taeyong still hadn’t resumed verbiage. “What is it?” Taeil asked, but Taeyong just looked up from the phone to his friend. He looked concerned. Taeil pushed off from the bench and snatched the phone out of Taeyong’s hands; then, he gasped.
“It’s Sicheng.”