We'll learn more about Phichit in this chapter, like his history and stuff. If you squint, you'll learn more about Seung Gil, too hahha This update is mostly dialogue, and it was actually not supposed to be that way, but I couldn't help myself XD Unlike my last fic, this one moves along quickly and spans over a longer time period; I apologize if it seems like events are too hasty or rushed and hope you'll have fun reading!
Over the last few days, I've gotten used to waking up to at least one text from Seung Gil. I asked him if he was often alone or bored on the second day, slightly confused by his behavior; I mean, I was also a little happy to talk to him more, but we've never even met and surely he has other friends. He told me that he simply likes talking to someone honest and unbiased who doesn't make him feel like a ghost. When I asked what that last part meant, he changed the subject; I never pressed it again. I just finished making a run to the grocery store, settling for making it a solo mission now that Yuuri's getting ready for work. While I put things in cupboards and fridge shelves, I get the first text I've gotten in a couple hours. 'Still there? Work got busy.'
Rather than put everything down to text, I finish my task first, then pick up my phone. 'Gotta make lunch and dinner lol' I don't know what to eat now, let alone what to make for later. I'm not in the mood for cooking, but I did just buy new groceries. I tap my chin in thought.
'Lunch and dinner?'
Yes, I have to make both now. If I don't pack food for work now, I probably won't do it at all; I like to do things once and not go back later. 'Yeah lol I'm hungry and need to pack for work. Dinner is at 2' What I should do is make enough for both meals…yeah, that sounds good. I pull ingredients from the fridge, settling on spicy pork with rice. I'm not the best cook, but I've never burned anything or given anyone food poisoning; I think that speaks volumes about my abilities!
'Right, that makes sense. What are you making?'
This would be so much simpler if I didn't have to switch from cooking to typing. We've never called each other, but there's a first time for everything. I send a pig emoji with my message: 'Would you mind facetiming? Need to be hands free'
'Alright, give me a sec.' Perfect! The familiar ring chimes a moment later. On the screen is the darkened image of my new friend, a face I've never seen before. His hair is dark and messy, hidden under a hood; in the dim lighting, I can't tell what color his eyes are, only that they're dark, too, and intense. He has earbuds in, and it looks like he's walking downtown: I recognize the storefronts. "I'm walking from work." Seung Gil mutters. "Was it supposed to snow today?" The question doesn't sink in; not at all, but I think it only makes sense when I'm distracted. His skin is practically glowing, pale in the light and not at all what I expected to see. Who knew I was speaking to such a beautiful man? I wonder why he's frowning all of a sudden. "Hello? Phichit?"
Oh, crap! My jaw snaps shut, an embarrassing laugh falling from my lips. I settle my phone in a place that he can see me and I can still work on dinner. "Sorry, I'm here." He asked something, didn't he? "Um, what did you ask?"
"Is it supposed to snow?" His eyes are mostly directed at the path in front of him, rather than at the phone. It might be better that way: he won't notice me staring.
"No, I don't think so." I blink a few times, returning to my cooking prep. "So, you walk from work? What do you do?" If I don't focus, I'll end up cutting a finger instead of a vegetable. Seung Gil zips his hoodie up further, pulling a lanyard from underneath to wave it around.
"I work accounts payable and receivable at the bookstore."
"You just walk around downtown with a lanyard that says your workplace?" I scoff. Downtown isn't dangerous, but I wouldn't want to advertise where I spend my days there.
"What do you mean?"
Shaking my head, I decide to not judge Seung Gil too harshly; he seems to lack some street sense. "People will know where you work. What if they want to mug you, or something?" It sounds crazy, but I've heard of crazier in this city. I've lived here long enough to know that basically anything is possible!
He shrugs, not bothering to look at the phone. "I've got nothing worth taking."
"If you say so." I laugh. "Do you always walk from work?"
"Yeah." Seung Gil nods. "Parking around here sucks. Don't live too far away, either."
Parking downtown is nearly impossible. It makes me grateful to have reserved parking at the station lot. "That's good. Do you like your job?"
"I can't imagine going somewhere every day to do something I hate."
Hm; I guess that answers that. "Can I ask you something?"
"Isn't that what you've been doing?" His eyes dart to the phone, a tiny trace of a smirk on his lips. The expression is absurdly adorable, causing my heartbeat to accelerate.
I roll my eyes when his words sink in: such a smartass. "Whatever! Did you always want to be an accountant? Did you move here for work, or did you have family here? Oh, and why aren't you dressed warmer? Haven't you gotten used to winter here?" I don't want to sound like a mom-friend, or anything, but I can see puffs of his breath and he's not even wearing a coat or scarf. He sort of laughs, mostly just exhaling forcefully.
"It's not winter yet, and not that cold. I have a jacket, but it's at home. I like the weather here." His eyes lock on mine, only briefly. "I don't really know anyone here, but I'm fine with that. I always had a way with numbers, so yeah: I've been a mathematician for years."
Nodding, I continue cooking before responding. "Gotcha. Wanna ask me anything?"
Seung Gil takes a moment to think this over. I find a plate and a reusable container, setting them to the side for later use. "How did you get into the counseling thing, and how long have you been doing it?"
"Oh, there's a story for you." I smile, starting the rice. I lean on the counter, chin in hand. "Growing up, I was the one people turned to. My friends had an issue with another friend, they cried on my shoulder, vented to me, asked me for help. Something about me just screams at people: 'talk to me.'" I laugh, noticing the ease in Seung Gil's face; he likes being told stories, I've noticed. "So people have always felt comfortable talking to me, and it made me feel good to be able to help them. I gained a lot of friends that way throughout school, and decided to try and make a career out of it." His eyes are on mine again, shining with interest. "I learned a lot about psychology in university, and finished getting my degrees by the time I was twenty two. Then I had my supervised sessions." My smile falters slightly at the memories. If I had to pick one word to describe those years, I'd say 'raw.' Seung Gil blinks at me, a curious pout forming. "You can take all the psych classes and read up about all the traumas a human can go through, but nothing can prepare you for the actual cases you'll have."
"You were just thrown right in?"
"It's the best way to learn." I shrug. "I just…I care so much about people, and I didn't know how to draw the line between work and my own life. I got too attached and took their problems home with me. It's hard not to think about child neglect and spousal abuse at night when the whole day is spent talking about just that." I'd overlooked the degree of pain I'd have to confront while in the process of helping people.
"Yeah, that makes sense. Hang on a second." Seung Gil juggles his phone and keys, stepping in his apartment building. "Let me just get inside." He walks up a staircase, stepping into a darkened room and switches a light on. While he takes his headphones out and walks forward, my breath gets caught in my throat again. This man is seriously gorgeous! In the lighting, I can see his eyes are a mix of dark brown and grey and seem to be endlessly deep. He makes himself comfortable on a green tinted sofa and blinks down at his phone. "Okay, go ahead."
Go ahead and what? Ah: I shake my head, remembering my story. "Right. So, it was really hard for me to learn how to not get so invested in their lives. At first, I felt like such a dick because I'd listen to their pain, then force myself to forget about it at home, like it didn't matter."
"But you had to, right? How else would you survive?"
Precisely. "Yup. It wasn't easy, but I finally found a balance by the second year of supervised counseling. After two years of being on my own, though, I decided to take a little break which has turned into two years off." I chuckle, relaxing again. "Anyway, I'll go back, but not yet. It takes a toll on me, and while I love it, I can't do it every day for too long. Sucks, but that's what I have to do." With a shrug, I tend to my food again. I wasn't expecting such a heavy conversation; I'd be lying if I said I'm not the slightest bit uncomfortable and uncertain about how he'll respond. Seung Gil fiddles with something beyond the phone, settling back against the sofa with his sweatshirt unzipped.
"You have to do what's best." Such simple words; they fill cracks, though, more than they should.
I smile, happy to have shared something so personal and received such kindness in return. "Yeah, that's true. Thank you." The silence that follows isn't awkward, but it is loud. "Is your apartment always this quiet? I feel like I have to whisper."
"I told you it was too much." Seung Gil sighs. "I like quiet, but I hate too much silence."
"I know what you mean." I finish up in the kitchen, taking my plate to the dining table. "You mind if I eat? I don't want to be rude."
He rolls his eyes, tossing his sweatshirt aside. "That's not rude, it's necessary."
I laugh, almost feeling offended by his tone and small scowl. "Okay, geez! I'll make sure to talk with my mouth full, just for you." Now that I think about it, why haven't I switched back to texting? I'm not that busy any more, so it could be done. Then again, he hasn't suggested it, either, not even after I've finished eating and he's made himself food, too. Our conversation seems to flow without much effort. "I mean, I can see the appeal of audio books for someone who's on the road a lot, or something, but I think it's weird to hear someone read something for you." He asked me about books and reading, and is now laughing at my response. "Seung Gil, you asked! Why're you laughing at me?" I scold him while trying not to laugh, too. Wow, is his smile ever bright; both it and his laughter are contagious.
"I'm not laughing at you, I swear!" Could've fooled me. "I get it entirely, and I agree." He wipes at his eye, settling down at last. "I don't hear many people with the same opinion, and your phrasing was funny, that's all." Seung Gil is now smiling at me, and I can't help but feel like it's a rare sight I'm privileged to see. A voice whispers in the background on his end, mentioning a commercial break. I know that voice! I know it like I know my own. I gasp. "What?"
"What are you listening to?" His silent smirk is enough of an answer. "You're listening to Eros, aren't you? You're totally cheating on me!"
This gets him laughing again and I can't help but join in. "He has a great show. It's not my fault."
"He's good, isn't he?" I watch Seung Gil nod in agreement. "He's the one who got me into radio. Bet you didn't know that."
"I did not. Care to elaborate?"
Some of this story involves Yuuri's personal life; I'll have to gloss over some parts to respect his privacy, but I think I can manage. "The man you know as Eros was my roommate in college. We were in an off-campus apartment, and randomly got matched. I was in my first two years, and he was in his last two. He didn't get out much, so I offered to take him to parties and clubs and stuff." It was hilarious how out of his element Yuuri was at first, but he wanted to hang out and be a normal college student. "He was kinda uncomfortable, but for whatever reason, he wanted to get used to being around people, so we kept going out. One of his favorite places to go was a jazz club, even though it wasn't like the other places." I laugh, remembering how Yuuri would stare at his favorite musician when he played every Thursday night during winter and the start of spring. "He had a favorite musician there, and I couldn't say no. He met our boss there, who had been doing his own jazz show at the station but wanted a replacement. Before my last year of undergrad, he asked him if he'd like to be on the radio, and Eros was born." I leave out the parts where Yuuri played so much of his favorite artist on the show that said musician came by the station and formally introduced himself only to find that he'd seen Yuuri at the club about a million times.
"So how did you get the job?"
"Well, he'd been at the station for years, and when our boss was looking to replace the old talk show host, he put in a good word for me." I was thrilled at the prospect of being on the radio. It made me feel like a celebrity, even though nobody would recognize me as the voice they heard. "I started cohosting after classes when I was getting my Master's. By the time I graduated, I took over as the host and changed the show to be more therapeutic and interactive than it'd been before, and now it's been my only job for a couple years." With a shrug, I check the time: almost seven. "I'm lucky people like to hear me talk."
I expect Seung Gil to laugh with me, but he shakes his head. "You're lucky you know how to talk to people."
What does he mean? "I wasn't born knowing how to communicate." I scoff. "It takes practice."
"If you say so."
With a nod, I smirk. "I do." The spark in Seung Gil's eyes is missing, and I don't know why or how I can get it back. The fact that I want it back doesn't go unnoticed by me, but I push the thought to the side for now. "Do you read nonfiction?"
"If I'm interested enough, I'll read pretty much anything."
"You wanna help my sales?" I giggle out of hesitance, unsure if I should be telling him this or not.
Seung Gil does not look amused. "Your what, now?"
His serious face makes me laugh. "My book sales. I wrote a book only college students read." I roll my eyes, still irritated at my professor for suggesting I publish my thoughts on how unfair the stigma surrounding seeking therapy is. "Becoming an author wasn't a dream, or anything, but I put a lot of work and effort into that book." Why is he still not saying anything? "Um, Seung Gil? Can you hear me?" If he doesn't respond, I'll be forced to start singing just to check the audio.
"Yeah, sorry." He shakes his head, blinking a few times. "Sorry, I'm just surprised."
"I've only written the one book. Don't go thinking I have talent, or anything." I laugh at myself while he only blinks with that look still on his face. "What?"
"I'm surprised! I never would've thought that you're an author."
I roll my eyes; he clearly didn't hear what I said. "I'm not an author, I just wrote a book."
"That I'm going to be reading soon."
This man just gets sweeter and sweeter; words don't escape me all that often, but for the life of me, I'm unsure what to say to that. I mutter something about appreciation and we move on, but something isn't allowing me to let it go. Seung Gil hardly knows me; we only know the basics about each other and anything else we've gathered from conversing. We're nowhere near owing each other anything, yet he's taking it upon himself to go to lengths for me; not great lengths, but still: he's making more of an effort than some would and I'm not sure why. He called my show just to apologize; he gave me his number so he could improve his general attitude; he texts me when he has free time, often during his work hours and sometimes during mine; he agreed to facetime when he was in the middle of his commute; he listened to my sad and boring stories of before I was P. Chu on the radio; he gave me support for something I struggled to come to terms with for a long time; he said he'd read my book, knowing that the contents aren't great and I'm not really a writer. Why? I have no answers, but I can't help but wonder about his intentions. If he simply wants a friend, someone to turn to, I don't have a problem with that; I can work with being friends. We manage to talk through the remaining hours before I need to get ready for work. I lean my phone against my vanity mirror, sitting at the table with a leftover laugh on my tongue. "You should not be allowed to throw anything in the office ever again!" I find my favorite eyeliner pencil, opting to go with a more natural look today.
"I thought he'd catch it. What man can't catch a burrito?"
Of course, this comment makes me laugh and screw up the line I'm trying to draw. "Damn it, don't make me laugh! You messed me up." I start over, getting right at the lash line.
"What're you doing?"
Isn't it obvious? "Lining my eyes; duh." I smirk, looking over at my phone. Seung Gil is staring at me, eyes focused at my makeup. "I take it you don't wear makeup. I just like to line my eyes, maybe add some mascara, cover up any weird blemishes." The only person who's seen me put on makeup, outside of a romantic relationship, is Yuuri; this makes me laugh. "Most people have to wait for me to post selfies to see the final result."
"Is that so?"
"Yes." I smile, admiring my handiwork in the mirror, adding that he should follow me on social media. "You know, if you want to see my past work and my pets. And friends. I post a lot, okay?" With a laugh, I try to make my hair look less flat, but today is not a good hair day. "My hair has a mind of its own today. You ever have that problem?"
He snorts, pointing at his hair. "Story of my life. I hardly even bother."
I shrug. "I don't wear it as well as you." One of my baseball caps is slung over a corner of the mirror. It isn't all that functional in the cold, but I think I can work it anyway; on my head it goes, flipped backwards. I've been asked why my appearance matters when only a guaranteed three people will see me when I leave my apartment. My response to that is: the only person you should ever try to look decent for is the one in the mirror. Being able to appreciate your own unique beauty is essential for having a good day. "Alright, I'm all set." I take one last look at my reflection and pick up my phone. When I look at the screen, I find a dark pair of eyes staring back at me. Did I fuck up my eyeliner, or something? Why is he looking at me like that? "What? Do I look weird?" My reflection tells me no, but Seung Gil's expression says otherwise.
He blinks, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact all of a sudden. "I'm sorry, I…I spaced out for a second." Seung Gil meets my gaze again, eyes wide. "Are you going to the station now?"
If I had to put money on it, I'd bet that that wasn't what he wanted to say. He seemed really distracted…by my appearance. He saw me all evening, so I don't know why he'd be distracted. A part of me says he really was just being flighty, but the rest of me hopes maybe he saw something he likes. Instead of asking, I nod. "Yeah, I've gotta get going. Will you be listening?"
"Of course."
"My number one fan." I laugh as I gather my things for work. I hope Yuuri left the charger under the desk, in case there's a lot of phone traffic tonight.
Seung Gil sighs with a small shrug. "I should really be trying to sleep, but…" He makes a noncommittal noise accompanied by an eye roll. "Whatever. Drive safe, okay? Good luck with your callers. Hopefully you won't get another me."
His smirk makes me smile. "One you is enough." Aww, his smile is even better! I really do have to leave, though. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Probably after work."
"Okay, later, Phichit." Seung Gil waves, so I wave back.
Before leaving, I bundle up and check on my hamsters, telling them to be good. The cold air of the night bites at my skin and only relents when I blast my car's heater. The warmth only lasts the short drive, cold coming back with a vengeance once I step into the station parking lot. A short car horn makes me jump; it came from the nearby car, left running. The window rolls down, exposing the familiar face of the driver who tosses a grin my way. "You're late, Phichit!" The silver haired man sings, taunting me from his cozy front seat.
I roll my eyes, waving him off over my shoulder. "You're making me even later, Victor!" Yeah, this is the living legend jazz musician extraordinaire: Victor Nikiforov. I know him as the man who stole my best friend's heart via saxophone. "Yuuri's gonna kill me."
"Tell him he had a great set at eight, and he'll forget all about it." Victor shouts. The way he says it makes me wonder if his advice will work or end up having the opposite effect; maybe it's not his tone, but rather who Victor is as a person.
"If it makes him angrier, I'm coming for you." I point at the laughing man and rush through the building. Yuuri's glare through the window doesn't look good for my fortune. I bite my lip and wait for him outside the booth, shifting my weight from foot to foot. Yuuri never stays upset for long, but he doesn't forget easily; I could be hearing about this for days. Well, unless I buy him lunch this weekend, or something. When he finally exits the room, I don't force a smile: I hold up my hands in surrender. "I'm sorry I'm late! I swear, I lost track of time and it wasn't on purpose. Don't hate me." I want to blame Seung Gil, but I haven't really told Yuuri we've been talking as much as we have; he'll overthink it and I'm not prepared for that yet. My apology doesn't do much to soften the sharp look he gives. Time for Victor's advice, I guess. "Well, you had a great show! Especially at eight."
Yuuri shoots me a deadpan look, arching an eyebrow with an unamused pout. "Did you run into Victor in the parking lot?"
Damn it, Victor! I sigh, shoulders sagging. "Why?"
"That was my Victor hour." Yuuri smirks. "Get in there, and stop being late or I'll start making you show up early."
"Please don't."
Yuuri laughs, lightly smacking me in the arm in passing. "Then don't make me." Oh, right: point made. "See you tomorrow, P."
As soon as I get settled in the hot seat, I curse under my breath and pull out my phone. It's Seung Gil's fault I'm late, and I tell him as much: 'You made me late! ! ! I was scolded by Eros lol'
It doesn't take long for a response to come: 'If memory serves, you were conversing, too.'
And just like that, I'm faced with another night of texting Seung Gil right up until he falls asleep. We talk about everything and nothing, and every bit sends my heart into a fluttery rhythm I recognize as the early stages of infatuation. Once again, I blame Seung Gil for this, but he doesn't need to know. Not yet, anyway.
Did you expect Victor to make a cameo? I didn't XD He just found his way into this chapter hahha I thought it'd be fun to set up the getting-to-know-you part of Phichit and Seung Gil's relationship through phone conversation; it's not too heavy, has a fun tone and allows me to be a little self-indulgent :3 The next chapter will take place a couple weeks or so after these events. I'll explain more next week and I thank you for reading!
