03: Marry-Go-Round

Park Yeohwan is no stranger to proposals.

At the prime, tender age of twenty-three years young, he’s already amassed a suite of impromptu confessions and wedding offers that sits at the back of his mind like a row of trophies left to collect dust on a shelf. Ego fluffers, each one of them.

He’s aware of his charisma, knows how to work his gait and facial expressions to his advantage. Yeohwan is no stranger to the world of proposals, but in his twenty-three years of life, never has he been on the receiving end of one from a random stranger out of the blue.

Yet here he is now, red-cheeked and tear-streaked, staring into the deep brown eyes of a guy whose hair is the color of midnight on a rainy evening, and all Yeohwan can think is: Who the hell asks for a hand in marriage in place of a simple ‘hello’?

That, but also a panicked: Not here. Not now.

Because this is not how this particular scenario was supposed to go. He was supposed to make a clean exit, leave Johyeon in the bar and paint him as a huge thirsty asshat. Just like they’d agreed.

Stricken, Yeohwan’s mouth freezes momentarily as he grapples for a reaction. “Um.”

The guy in front of him blinks, and he seems to catch hold of his actions because then he releases Yeohwan’s elbows and steps back with a mortified bow. “M-my bad. I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” Yeohwan shushes, feeling like his brain is disassembling itself, hyper aware of the eyes on them. The ambient chatter inside the jazz bar has lowered to a stunned silence, and Yeohwan’s instincts scream for him to flee, bring this outside.

Someone has interrupted his little performance, waltzed onto his stage without his permission. Unacceptable.

Before the guy can stutter more, Yeohwan grasps him by the shoulders and pushes, pushes, pushes him up past the flight of stairs that lead up to ground level, wheeling the stranger out into the fresh, open air.

The guy stammers a slew of baffled protests, but Yeohwan is not having it. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”

“Sorry, I acted without thinking—“

“You nearly blew it.” Yeohwan fumes as he turns to pin the stranger down with a harsh glower. Granted, he’d managed to pull off the ruse well, had shed the most convincing crocodile tears he could, but still. “I almost broke character!”

Midnight-Haired Dude stares dumbly at him. “Uh. What are you– I’m lost.“

Yeohwan glances behind his shoulder, scanning for possible eavesdroppers, before stepping close to the guy—and wow, it’s not every day he meets a cutie whose height matches his for perfect kissing range—to whisper:

“Listen. Everything you saw there? Was staged, but between you and me, let’s say it was all completely and wholly true.” The words slip past Yeohwan’s mouth without filter, and at the back of his mind, he wonders why the hell he’s divulging Top Secret Matters to a random stranger.

Two weeks ago, his high school friend Johyeon pinged him on KakaoTalk to share his miserable story of woe—that he, a gym instructor, has gathered himself some rabid admirers who’ve turned into stalkers over time.

Which brings them to this night with Operation Make Johyeon Unavailable, and the whole time Yeohwan was already priding himself on being such a talented actor that Johyeon’s nasty fans from two tables over started sporting horrified expressions at their little spat.

Until this guy.

This guy was not a part of the plan at all.

“And to answer your question,” Yeohwan quips curtly, carding a hand through his hair out of habit. In the autumn air, his breath comes out in white puffs of mist. “No, I won’t marry you.”

Midnight-Haired Dude blanches at his words. “It’s fine. It’s not like I expected—“

“I mean, please,” Yeohwan continues with a laugh. “I know I’m pretty, but marriage? Right away? Isn’t that taking it a little too far? I don’t even know you, sir.”

“Like I said—“

“And honestly. I’m too good for you. So no thanks, I’m staying single.”

The apologetic shine in the guy’s eyes diminishes into something resembling affront. “Wait,” he says slowly. “So... you weren’t heartbroken?”

“Finally, he’s catching on!” Yeohwan claps his hands together and gives Midnight-Haired Dude a pity-pat on the shoulder, grinning for no reason. Maybe he’s tipsy.

“Anyway, it’s a flattering offer, mister, but no.” Yeohwan pastes on the sickly sweet smile he always uses in front of his friends’ mothers. “I’m not that cheap.”

He spins to leave, but hears at the last moment:

“But it all seemed so real.”

Yeohwan chuckles, congratulating himself for fooling every last person in that bar. “Honey, that’s just called acting.”

“Just when I thought you were finally doing something cool in your life, you come strutting back in here looking like a wet kitten,” Hajoon remarks the moment Yohan steps back inside the Blue Rose’s staff locker room.

Yohan drops into a chair and buries his face in his hands.

“Do me a favor, won’t you?” he says, feeling like... like gum stuck to the sole of a shoe. Small and dirty and all things unnecessary. “Just put me on like. Stocking duty next week.”

“Those fingers are for piano-ing, not appliance-checking,” comes Hajoon’s lightning-fast reply.

“Though I could definitely think of a lot more uses for long fingers.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Any other time, Yohan would have rolled his eyes, maybe even laughed if he’s in a particularly good mood. But now he just sighs, sniffles, and looks down at the floor.

Never has he ever felt such magnitude of humiliation before.

Yohan’s comfort zone lies in staying within the sidelines, watching life pass him by. He’s not quite sure what stings more: that he’s made a fool out of putting himself out there, or that he just got brutally rejected.

He hears footsteps drawing near, and when he looks up he finds Hajoon looming over him, arms crossed. “Min Yohan.”

“Mmph.” Yohan doesn’t look up.

“What the hell is going on?” Hajoon asks. “First you tell me you need to get married, and now you’re proposing to strangers.”

Yohan sighs again, the words ‘Ten billion dollars’ bouncing back and forth in his mind like a pinball.

“I mean, what am I supposed to expect now?” Hajoon carries on. “Next thing I know, you’ll be taking off to become a rap star, or that you’re training to be a monk. Bald and—“

The noise of the walk-in freezer’s door interrupts Hajoon’s monologue, and Taeyeon’s teal blue-dyed head pops out, eyes wide and curious. “Did anything happen while I was inside?”

Hajoon sends him a pointed look. “You missed out. Yohan proposed to a stranger just now.”

“No way.” The younger waiter’s mouth falls open. “Everything always happens when I’m on freezer duty.”

“I don’t know, it’s not a very Yohan thing to do,” Hajoon singsongs, talking about Yohan as if he’s not right there sitting in the same room.

Taeyeon nods. “There’s an ulterior motive. There’s always one with him.”

“Go ahead. Ask him why. My bet is: he’s high.”

“I’m not high, or drunk, or whatever the hell you’re thinking,” Yohan defends himself before launching into a brief recap of everything that happened since this morning. When he finishes, Taeyeon goes quiet while Hajoon bursts out laughing.

“So you need to find a wife—“

“Or a husband,” Yohan adds.

“Or a husband, just for the sake of claiming your money from a grandfather you’ve never met?” Hajoon asks, leaning against the side of the lockers. “Either you’re a lucky bastard, or this is a scam.”

“The attorney himself explained it to me.”

Yohan isn’t about to let his manager’s skepticism dampen his already rotten mood. “It’s the real thing, hyung. This is my ticket to paradise.”

Hajoon studies him for a moment, trying to gauge just how serious he is about this. “Well. Do you want me to set up a blind date?”

Yohan swallows. Him, meet new people? Make attempts at flirting and get them interested in marriage? He might as well scale the Pyramids of Giza. He scratches his head. “No need. Thing is, I’m not really interested in the whole falling in love shit. No time for that.”

Hajoon shrugs and weaves through the curtains to return to the Blue Rose’s main floor. “Suit yourself.”

In the wake of his manager’s departure, Yohan sags against his locker, thoughts in a jumble. What now?

“You don’t have to.”

He glances up to find Taeyeon pacing back and forth in front of him, eyes glinting with something either utterly brilliant or utterly ridiculous.

Yohan knows that look: the trademark Scheming Face. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just getting married, hyung,” Taeyeon says casually. “It’s not like you have to love them, right?”

Squinting his eyes, Yohan says, “I don’t know where you’re going with this, but that face is giving me bad idea vibes.”

“It’s the face of a genius at work,” Taeyeon chides in mock offense. “Learn the difference, hyung.”

“Did you forget when you suggested we should name our cocktails after sex terms?” Yohan fires.

“Hey! Flaming Orgasm is iconic! And the customers love them!” Taeyeon cries, before rearranging his face in a placating smile. “Anyway. Trust me on this. Because I think I might know just the perfect person for you.”

Yohan can spot a Bad Idea from a mile away, and it’s safe to say that this one is already giving him an ominous feeling. “Who?”

Taeyeon smiles, looking genuinely pleased with himself. “A friend.”

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