It Meets You Where You Wait • Yeonbin

THIRTEEN

Going to work the next morning is weird. Not in a bad way, but he just looks at the lobby differently now. He can't help the little extra bounce in his step as he swings the door open.

"Hey!" Beomgyu greets when he walks in. He puts his phone down and leans forward. "How'd your... talk go?"

Soobin sits up against the desk, in the same little spot he usually does. How did it go? Well...

"Good. It was good," Soobin starts, and then stops. It's not that he's opposed to telling Beomgyu about whatever budding thing that he and Yeonjun have— He's just not totally sure if Yeonjun wants everyone to know about that, yet. "He answered some of my questions."

"All of them?" Beomgyu teases, lifting an eyebrow and poking Soobin's leg.

Soobin scoffs. "Actually, yeah, a good amount. He's... he's an interesting person."

Beomgyu smiles softly. "He is. Sounds like you guys are finally getting along."

Soobin's brain paints the gentle gaze of Yeonjun's eyes, and the feeling of his skin, and the way he'd whispered his name.

Soobin nods. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

—

When he's out on the poolside, he doesn't immediately look for Yeonjun. He doesn't.

Well, he does, but the boy isn't there. He finds Taehyun instead, but he's currently dealing with kids' swimming tests on the far side of the pool.

Soobin makes his way over to his lifeguard tower, climbs up the ladder rings, and settles  into his seat. He's got seven hours to go.

He sighs and blows his whistle at a trio of kids running past. Yeji waves at him, and he waves back, then settles into his spot under the sun.

—

He fiddles with the radio in his car, skipping through stations to see if anything good is playing. He smells like chlorine and sunscreen, and he fears that his car will now perpetually smell the same. It'll air out eventually, but it still bothers him.

His post-work schedule sees him showering the harsh chemical stench from his hair, changing from rough swim trunks into softer sweatpants.

Since he's now on his last pair, he decides it's time to visit the laundromat that's just down the street.

Lugging his laundry bag— which he really loves because it has straps that allow him to carry it like a backpack— on his shoulder, he steps outside of his apartment and starts to walk. He could've driven to the mat, sure, but it would be a waste of gas and effort when he's a perfectly able guy and the place is only two minutes away.

The walk is quiet, and it's nearing 7PM; the sun is setting, and the quiet buzz of crickets prevent total silence, and the streetlights he walks under glow with warm yellow light. The humid air sticks to his skin and his still damp hair. The only noises are the scratch of his shoes against concrete, and the subtle hums of life around him.

The laundromat is lit with a neon orange and yellow sign that reads ' Sudz Coin Laundry', and it's mostly empty as well. Only two people meander inside, putting clothes into machines.

He joins them, shoving the bag of clothing into a washer, and pouring detergent into the indicated container. After he presses start, the timer tells him there's 30 minutes until they're done.

He could wait at the small collection of tables in the far corner, but the ambient buzzing of the sign is uncomfortable. Since the washers lock automatically, he decides it's safe to return back to his apartment and work on dinner.