“They came up for work, but I don’t listen to much music in general.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t listen to music or watch shows?”
“I do, but not a lot. I do better when it’s quiet.” One of the assistants at the office always has a murder podcast playing, and I have no idea how she concentrates.
He shakes his head. “What about graphic novels? Webtoons?”
“No.”
“Video games?”
“Please.”
“Podcasts?”
“BBC World Service.”
“Movies?”
“Only if it’s action for the special effects. I don’t pay twenty bucks for dialogue.”
“Books?” He sounds frantic.
I glare at him. “Yes, I read.”
Jihoon closes his eyes with relief. “I thought we would have to stop being friends.”
It’s churlish to point out that we’ve known each other about ten days and are hardly deep into friend territory, so I don’t.
“I work a lot,” I excuse myself. “All that media takes time. An hour of TV a night and games on your phone and a movie on the weekend? Let’s say that comes to sixteen hours a week.” I work the numbers. “Thirty-four solid days a year of casual content consumption. That’s time an entertainment company controls instead of me.”
We’re done eating, so we gather up our trash. “You don’t get joy from stories?” Jihoon says as we start walking again.
“All I’m saying is there’s a lot of mindless stuff designed to get you hooked so they can sell more.”
“Music and art also bring meaning and help people define their humanity.”
A thin line now divides Jihoon’s dark eyes. I belatedly remember he makes his living in entertainment. “I don’t mean the work you do is useless,” I hasten to assure him.
“Thank you!” He gives me a slight bow. “Very generous.”
I sigh. “I deserved that.”
To my relief, he laughs. “You haven’t found the right thing to touch your heart yet, Ari.”
Again with my name. I didn’t think I needed validation this much, but every time he’s said it tonight, I had a warm sense of being seen. It’s after midnight now, but neither of us suggests going home. It’s like he’s finally decided I’m safe enough to at least have a civil conversation with. More than civil, even. Friendly.
Being with Jihoon is easy, and we start chatting about nothing and everything as the topics come up. We pass a boba store and talk about our favorite bubble tea flavors (rose milk for me, lychee green tea for him). A vet clinic brings up the question of the best animals for pets (cats, unanimous). A convenience store starts us on the best snacks, which quickly turns into a debate over which country has the best selection, Korea or Canada. I have a sure advantage with Coffee Crisp chocolate bars, but Jihoon makes a strong argument for Kkokkalcorn corn snacks.
Jihoon is really listening, even though there’s nothing special about what we’re saying. Hana is amazing, but she has a habit of lapsing into her own head sometimes and not paying attention. I also wouldn’t rank open and easy communication among my own family’s virtues. Jihoon looks at me as I speak and then asks follow-up questions instead of using whatever I say to launch into his own story.
When we hit the subject of roommates (one for both of us), I say, “I met Hana in university. How’d you meet yours?”
“Through work,” Jihoon says. “It’s strange to be without him. We’re at the same company.”
“You don’t find it nice to be alone?” I love Hana but relish having the place to myself. Or did, until she sprung a guest on me.
He kicks at a small rock. “It’s boring. We’ve been together for years, so I feel better when he’s around. My other friends as well.”