Chapter Text
Flying was, perhaps, one of the few things that could help Wonshik take his mind off things.
When he staggered onto the quidditch pitch for the first time with his fellow first-years in school, highly skeptical about the skinny school broom lying on the dewy grass, Wonshik also never would’ve guessed that aside from coming to love the feeling of flying so much, he’d actually be good at it. A sad, hopelessly out of place little muggleborn he’d been in school and on the ground, but not while in the air. In the air, he was unbeatable.
That makes him wonder why it’s taking him so damn long to actually succeed in his career choice, but that’s neither here nor there.
One of the dark, heavy bludgers is rocketing up towards the Chaser on Wonshik’s practice team, and he’s after it immediately, spurring his Nimbus onward, chasing the bludger down. He hefts his bag up with one hand, ducks under his teammate, and pops up right in front of the ball, giving it no time to change is course. He braces his heels against his broom and raises his bat, bringing it around his shoulder in a quick, powerful swing. There’s a resounding crack as Wonshik sends the bludger shooting off in the other direction, where it forces two Chasers from the other team to scatter. Satisfied with himself, Wonshik pulls above the fast-paced passing game going on between the other players. The sun catches on the corner of his eyes and the brightness momentarily blinds him, but then his focus is back onto the pitch, scanning the field for any signs of the other bludger.
There’s a loud ping! as his teammate puts the Quaffle past the Keeper, but Wonshik hardly has any time to celebrate before he hears the shrill whistle from one of the Manticores’ coaches. Looking down, he barely suppresses a groan of dismay when he spots the opposing team’s Seeker waving the golden Snitch from about twenty feet off the ground. Sighing, he nudged his broom down for the third time today, bringing himself low enough for his toes to skim through the grass before hopping off. The opposing team was cheering and clapping each other on the back while Wonshik’s teammates yanked their practice jerseys off, glowering in silence. He doesn’t say anything as they converge, listening to the coach tick off some of the things the second-string team has done well and some things that need improvement. There was significantly more things to talk about in the latter.
His gaze drifts over to the first-string practice pitch, watching the starting team run through their drills, zooming about on their brooms. Must be nice knowing they’d have a permanent position in the upcoming season, he thinks tiredly.
“Am I straining your attention, mister Kim?” his coach says dryly, jerking Wonshik back to the present.
“No sir,” Wonshik mumbles, brushing his hair out of his face. His bangs are getting ragged again. The colour charm Taekwoon put on his burnt hair had worn off as the weeks went on, changing the strands from black to a light brown. Maybe he’ll get a haircut and then tell Jaehwan to dye it a different colour for him if he doesn’t make the team (again). It was a thing they’d been doing for quite sometime already.
His coach gives him a wary look and continues to talk, leaving Wonshik to drop his head against the handle of his broom. His muscles ached pleasantly, and he wished he could go back to flying. Shooting through the air on his broom was fun. Getting chewed out in his grimy uniform by his coach, not so much.
They talk for another fifteen minutes before they’re finally dismissed, the winning team in considerably higher spirits as they all make for the change rooms. It’s crucial that they all fly well when other coaches, trainers, and sometimes even a scout is watching. The thought of it weighs heavily down on Wonshik as he does his best to scrub himself clean in the shower. He was heading out for dinner tonight with Hakyeon, Jaehwan, and Hongbin, and Hakyeon would throw a fit if he showed up dirt-stained and sweaty.
There was that to look forwards to, at least, and Wonshik valiantly tries not to think of meeting Hongbin again whilst in the shower. He succeeds, slightly.
He’s walking out into the lobby of the training centre, hair still slightly damp and trying to jam his grass-stained jumper back into his duffle bag when somebody tackled him from behind, nearly knocking him off his feet.
“Surprise!” a familiar voice cheers into his ear, and Wonshik almost groans out loud. Hakyeon, springing a surprise attack on him. Figures.
“Quit doing that,” Wonshik complains, trying to untangle himself from Hakyeon’s octopus-like hug now. “I almost jinxed you reflexively.”
“You wouldn’t,” Hakyeon gasps, faking a hurt look, and Wonshik has to physically stop himself from flicking his friend in the forehead. Fortunately for Hakyeon, Hongbin chooses that moment to appear in the lobby, holding a bottle of bubble juice he’d probably had to wrestle out of the ancient vending machine in the corner of the building.
“Hey,” Hongbin smiles, eyes crinkling behind large, dark-framed glasses, and Wonshik feels his insides melt a little.
“Hi,” he replies, pushing his bangs back. “I didn’t expect to see you guys here.”
“We came to surprise you!” Hakyeon beams. “Well, just Hongbin and I. Jaehwan was still working when I called him with Floo Powder, so we’ll meet him at the restaurant. Anyway, we’re here to escort you home before we go out to dinner!”
“Escort me home?” Wonshik blinks. “Why do I have to go home?”
Hakyeon’s smile fades a little and is quickly replaced by his signature stink face. “Don’t tell me you were seriously planning to go meet us dressed like this,” he says, and Wonshik shrinks a little as Hakyeon gives his casual t-shirt and jeans ensemble a once-over, but he tilts his chin up defiantly. He won’t stand here and have his fashion insulted.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Hakyeon gives him a long-suffering look. “You’re wearing socks with sandals, Wonshik.”
“My toes get cold at night, okay!”
“Uh-huh. You’re going home to change.”
“What are you, my mom?”
“Worse, I’m a friend mom, which means I have no familial ties with you and am at liberty to say whatever I want about your stylistic choices without really offending you as my child.”
“I went to school with this man for four years,” Wonshik groans to Hongbin, who’s barely suppressing his laughter behind his palm as he watches the exchange. He vaguely hopes Hongbin would shift his hand ever so slightly and reveal his dimples; Wonshik was beginning to realize that it was one of his favourite things about the man.
“Must’ve been exciting,” Hongbin manages to say between snorts. Hakyeon scoffs loudly and Wonshik rolls his eyes.
“Wonshik fancied himself as a rebel but couldn’t bear to put a toe out of line.”
“That’s because you’re always finding reasons to dock house points!” Wonshik complained. “You were such a mean Head Boy!”
“That’s because you guys kept on breaking rules!”
“You were a tyrant,” Wonshik grumbles, fixing his bag over his shoulder as the three of them stumbled outside into the blazing evening sun, still bickering.
“Don’t be rude to your seniors!” Hakyeon shrieked, slapping Wonshik on the shoulder, making him yelp in pain as his sore muscles protested.
“Fascinating as this trip down memory lane is,” Hongbin interrupts, casually pushing Hakyeon and Wonshik out of each other’s reach before a real fistfight could begin. “How about we get dinner first and then continue to reminisce? Because I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
Hakyeon sniffs and immediately latches onto Hongbin’s arm. “The man’s got a point,” he say delicately, and Wonshik pinches the bridge of his nose as he tampers down the bit of jealousy he feels at Hakyeon’s casualness with Hongbin. Hakyeon always got along well with other people. Meanwhile, Wonshik had already made a habit of dropping things just from looking at Hongbin’s face.
“Right. You wanted me to change?”
Hakyeon wrinkles his nose as he takes in the rest of Wonshik’s attire, but concedes: “I’m willing to let the rest of your fashion sense slide if you put on proper shoes.”
“Where are we going out to eat again?” Wonshik asks, squinting. “I hope it’s not something really fancy, because I just spent the majority of my last paycheque buying really overpriced fish.”
“The place is Obertelli’s Eating House,” Hakyeon beams. “It’s a nice muggle restaurant Taekwoon mentioned some time ago but never got around to visiting, so I’m paying them a visit in his stead!”
“Are they a ‘no shoes no service’ kinda establishment?”
“I dunno about shoes, but International Statute of Secrecy still stands.”
“Right,” Wonshik grumbles, shaking his sleeves down. “I guess... we’re apparating?”
“We’ll meet you at the restaurant,” Hongbin says, a twinkle in his eye as he gives Wonshik a little wave before he and Hakyeon vanish into thin air with a sharp crack. That left him standing alone in front of the training centre, which would appear as nothing more but an empty parking lot to the unsuspecting muggles driving by on the road off in the distance.
“What’s wrong with socks and sandals?” Wonshik muttered to himself, wiggling his toes for good measure before turning on his heel and disappearing into the usual suffocating tightness.
He wondered if Hongbin had a problem with his fashion choices, and then decides not to dwell too much on it.
+
If dinner with Hakyeon is an interesting affair, then dinner with Hakyeon and Jaehwan was always guaranteed to be loud, boisterous, and just a tad bit wild. Those two could really be shameless at times, but they had a type of self-assuredness in public that Wonshik still hasn’t gotten the hang of yet. He left most of the jokes to the pair, pokes at the grilled meat on his plate and tries very hard not to stare at Hongbin too much, because Jaehwan and Hakyeon would really never let him live this crush down. They’d be eighty with arthritis and complaining about youngsters zooming around too quickly on broomsticks and they’d still tease him.
But it had been a nice dinner overall. The food was pretty good, the atmosphere comfortable and warm, and he and Hongbin ended up splitting and sharing two orders of an intensely sweet caramel cheesecake and a bowl of green tea ice cream. Hakyeon had refused to let Jaehwan try his banana cream sundae no matter how much the other man whined, which eventually led to Jaehwan wheedling Hakyeon to go bar hopping with him once they stumbled out of the restaurant after paying their bill.
“You guys wanna come with?” Hakyeon asks, tucking his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “The more the merrier, right?”
Wonshik glances at Hongbin, curious to what the other man would say, but Hongbin shakes his head. “I’ve got work tomorrow morning,” he says apologetically. “Maybe another time?”
“Aw, you’re no fun!” Jaehwan pouts, headbutting Hongbin in the shoulder. Hongbin grunts at the impact and nearly walks backwards into Wonshik, who catches him and pushes him upright with a laugh.
“Jeez, Jaehwan, what are you, five?”
“I’m only three!” Jaehwan squeaks in a horrific imitation of a small child’s voice, and starts to skip in circles around Hakyeon.
“Figures,” Hongbin snorts as Hakyeon grabs the back of Jaehwan’s hood, forcing him to a halt.
“What about you, Wonshik? Are you gonna hang out?”
“I actually would if I had money tonight,” Wonshik grumbles, and that’s half the truth. Payday was still at the end of the week whether or not he wanted to go drinking.
“Shame,” Hakyeon sighs, confusing Wonshik with his waggling eyebrows before adding, “You two get home safe together!”
“I could say the same about you two,” Hongbin snickers as Wonshik tries not to choke on his own spit. “See you guys.”
“Yeah, have a good night,” Wonshik says, giving Hakyeon the stink eye before they headed off their separate ways, Hakyeon and Jaehwan probably looking for a quiet place to apparate to a pub and leaving Wonshik and Hongbin hovering on the pavement next to the restaurant.
“Why don’t we walk?” Hongbin asks, looking up at the night sky. “It’s a nice night out.”
“Sure,” Wonshik says, smiling. It wasn’t too chilly, even without the sun and a jacket over his shoulders, but mostly Wonshik was just a little glad he could spend more time with Hongbin without worrying about Hakyeon and Jaehwan brining up embarrassing school stories. They fell into step with each other as they began to walk, languid after a good meal.
“So,” Hongbin hums, hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled down the street, illuminated by the glowing signs of muggle stores. “Got any plans for the night?”
“Not really,” Wonshik shrugs, raising his arms to stretch out the cramping muscles on his back. “I think I might fall into a food coma though, after all that food and practice today.”
“Dinner was great,” Hongbin agrees happily, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. “You were right about Hakyeon knowing some good restaurants, even if he does have a rather weird fascination about fast food places.”
“That’s because he hangs out around Taekwoon too much,” Wonshik snorts. “He’s a real foodie.”
Hongbin chortles loudly, catching the attention of several people across the street, and Wonshik watches as they all slow in their walk as they stared in awe at Hongbin. Feeling his stomach flop, he picks up his pace and fumbles for something to say.
“H-hey, wanna head down to the harbour from here? It’s only a five minute walk.”
“Sure,” Hongbin grins. “Lead the way.”
Relief and nerves tug at his insides at the answer, and Wonshik gives Hongbin a wobbly smile before making a right at the end of the street, following the familiar path down to the docks.
Choosing the harbour had apparently been a good idea, because Hongbin apparently hadn’t visited the area before after dark, and thus had never seen the lights by the water.
“Wow,” Hongbin breathes, eyes wide as they wound up on a tourist pier lined with fancy park benches and several pay-to-view binoculars at the end of the dock. “What a view.”
“It’s one of my favourite places in the whole city,” Wonshik admits, staring out into the mesh of gold, reds, and oranges glowing from the city nightlife across the water. “I live about four blocks away, so sometimes if I can’t sleep, I’d just come out to stare at the lights and wind down a little.”
“I can see how that’d be calming,” Hongbin says softly, eyes roaming over the scenery, and Wonshik’s heart melts at the warm look on Hongbin’s face. If he wasn’t mistaken, he might think that Hongbin was a bit of an artistic romantic too.
There was only one way to find out.
“Sometimes, if I stay long enough,” Wonshik adds, “I’ll see the sunrise coming up from beyond the water over there.”
Hongbin’s eyes widens even more as he stares out at the direction Wonshik was pointing in. Even though the sky was dark, they could still make out the stretch of water that remained uninterrupted by any kind of building or island— perfect for sunrise watching. “I’d like to get a picture of that,” Hongbin muses, shooting Wonshik a mischievous look. “Is that too cheesy of a thing to say?”
“I’m the guy who stays up to watch the sunrise, you tell me,” Wonshik points out, and Hongbin laughs, crinkling his hands in amusement.
“Fair enough. You know what, I’m gonna check the weather for the upcoming week, see when’s a good time to drop by and get a few photos—”
“It’s overcast tomorrow,” Wonshik says automatically, “But the two days after that is clear skies until the evening.” When Hongbin looks over at him, surprised, he flusters a little, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m always up to date for the weather because of quidditch. It’s a real hassle to show up on a rainy day and then realize you didn’t bring your goggles with you.”
“I’ll bet,” Hongbin grins. “Hey, wanna come watch the sunrise with me the day after tomorrow then, if you’re not busy?”
Wonshik’s heart skips a beat and he does the fastest mental scan of his practice schedule in his life, cheering internally when he remembers he’s got then next three days off for conditioning.
“I’m free,” he smiles, his heart stuttering when he sees how pleased Hongbin looks. “It’s a date then.”
The words slip out before he could stop them and Wonshik freezes, momentary panic setting in as he feels his face heat up and his stomach clench in shock. Oh, him and his stupid big mouth.
“Well, it’s a date then,” Hongbin suddenly agrees, a light twinkle in his eye as he nudges Wonshik in the side with a surprisingly bony elbow. “You better not sleep in, mister-I-stay-up-for-sunrises.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve never missed a morning practice in my life,” Wonshik complains, trying not to physically collapse as relief washes over him. Thank god for Hongbin and his easy-going nature, glossing over that ridiculous mishap like it was a friendly expression, and completely missing the fact that Wonshik did, in fact, want to date him. The realization of that thought almost makes him double over again, his heart fluttering helplessly. Jaehwan and Sanghyuk was right, Wonshik grumbled internally. He really had left the dating scene behind for too long and now he’s a fumbling mess.
“Yet from what I heard you could never get up for any of your morning classes in time,” Hongbin snickers, and Wonshiks flushes.
“I could so— that was one time in my second year— okay, maybe ten times, but who told you that, oh my god, it was Hakyeon, wasn’t it?” Wonshik splutters, and Hongbin’s clutching his sides as he wheezes at Wonshik’s defensiveness. “I knew getting the two of you to hang out was a terrible idea,” he moans. “Hakyeon’s such a mom; he’s gonna spill everything embarrassing about me from when I was a scrawny brat.”
“Ah, we all have our bogarts in the closet,” Hongbin says wisely, patting Wonshik on the shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, Hakyeon did mention something about an incident on the third floor bathroom, but he told me for the sake of my sanity and your personal image he could not divulge any further information.”
His feelings of absolute horror must’ve shown on his face, because a second later Hongbin is collapsing in another fit of laughter as Wonshik thunders into the tranquil night, “CHA HAKYEON!”
Somewhere in the city, a certain Auror lets out an almighty sneeze.
+
He jolts awake at half past seven the next morning, too used to waking early for a run or morning practice to sleep in past eight nowadays. Groaning slightly, Wonshik hauls himself into a sitting position, feeling a moment of light-headedness wash over him. His apartment was silent save for the hum of appliances and the distant sound of morning traffic outside, which was nothing unusual. Even the owl post sitting on his balcony seemed normal (monthly subscription to Which Broomstick, a few pop-up ads that might spray all-stick glitter onto him, another beautiful postcard from Sanghyuk) and then he sees an envelope with the Mydol Manticore’s logo stamped on the side. Throat suddenly very tight, Wonshik dropped the rest of his post onto the breakfast table and nearly tripped over a pair of shoes in his haste to grab his wand.
He magicks the envelope open, not wanting to accidentally tear anything in his haste, and flicks the letter out. It hovers at eye-level as he scans the slanted writing on the parchment (written with rather distasteful green ink) and two phrases jump out to him: upcoming season and invitation to first-string tryouts.
Wonshik’s heart leaps into his throat. Invitation to first-string tryouts.
Catching the floating letter with trembling hands, Wonshik takes a breath and wills himself to stay calm. Tryouts again. Another chance. He could practically feel the pressure bearing down on him already, and he’s still got a week to go until the tryout date scrawled onto the parchment. This was it. This was what he’d been going for, after years of dragging himself through exhausting practices and flying through horrendous weather and worse.
Suddenly too restless to make breakfast for himself, Wonshik folds the letter up, darts into the bathroom to wash his face, and scrambles out of his apartment, taking the steps two at a time as he heads downstairs. Between the letter and his upcoming ‘date’ with Hongbin, it’s a wonder he hasn’t collapsed in shock, Wonshik thinks wryly as he steps out of his building. There’s a diner down the street he frequents on lazy mornings, and at this hour on a regular working day, he doubts it’ll be packed— perfect for sorting out his thoughts.
True to his prediction, the diner is mostly empty save for an older couple enjoying pancakes, a few others reading the paper at the counter and a hunched man sitting in the corner furthest away from the windows. Wonshik distractedly greets the waitress as he looks around for comfortable seat, but when the man in the corner looks up and makes eye contact with him, Wonshik does a double take.
“Jaehwan?” he asks, and Jaehwan winces as Wonshik instantly strolls over and drops noisily into the seat across from him. “What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying the morning brew, what about you,” Jaehwan mutters, his voice scratchy and face uncharacteristically drained. His hair is wildly messy, his bloodshot eyes are surrounded with dark circles, and his clothes look awfully rumpled. Wonshik stares at him.
“Did you get into a fight with a herd of cornish pixies this morning or something? What happened to you?”
“Could you maybe not talk so loudly,” Jaehwan flinches, rubbing at his temples, and Wonshik stares.
“Are you hungover?”
“You know, I’m really starting to see why the Sorting Hat didn’t put you in Ravenclaw,” Jaehwan squints, and Wonshik glowers.
“How much did you drink yesterday night? You really don’t look good.”
“Hence, this,” Jaehwan says, waving to the lonely mug of hot black coffee on the table. It must’ve been bad, then. Jaehwan never takes his coffee black unless he’s sick or in a near-death state after drinking.
“Why didn’t Hakyeon cut you off?” Wonshik asks in confusion, because why didn’t Hakyeon? Their oldest friend was terrible at holding his alcohol and thus was usually rather cautious about how much he drank in public (drinking at home was a different matter).
Jaehwan grimaces and shook his head. “Hakyeon— he, he left early.”
“And left you behind?” Wonshik says skeptically.
“He wasn’t feeling well, okay,” Jaehwan mumbles. “Plus I was the one who wanted to go out, so I convinced him to let me stay.”
“Hakyeon’s got way more sense than that. We’ve all seen you smashed over fairy wine before and collectively agreed that you’re not allowed to drink alone, ever.”
“Yet here we are,” Jaehwan says irately, and whatever Wonshik wants to say is interrupted by the waitress coming over to ask for his order. He doesn’t miss the eyes she’s making at Jaehwan despite his friend’s less-than-functioning appearance, and hastily orders coffee with milk and sugar and a plate of eggs before rounding on Jaehwan again.
“You didn’t brew up a hangover potion this morning?” There was no way Jaehwan couldn’t handle a simple headache or nausea-clearing concoction, not when he was one of the leading potion researchers in the Ministry and dealing with new formulas so secret that needed official clearance to access.
“I wasn’t home,” Jaehwan says under his breath. “And I thought it best not to try anything remotely strenuous when I’m ready for death right now anyway, so muggle coffee it is.”
“You weren’t home?” Wonshik asks, wrinkling his nose in confusion, and Jaehwan gives him a look that’s one part exasperation and two parts incredulity before shaking his head.
“Never mind,” he grouses. “So what did you do yesterday night after we left you with Hongbin?” That was accompanied by a suggestive wink, and any previous sympathy Wonshik felt for his friend vanishes in an instant. If Jaehwan could wink, he was basically fucking fine.
“We went for a walk by the harbour and had a chat,” he says, crossing his arms, and Jaehwan snorts.
“Romantic,” he teases. “Are we going to see a wedding by the port? With fairy lights and flutterbies dancing around you two?”
“Hilarious,” Wonshik deadpans. “Your wit never fails to amaze me.”
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure,” Jaehwan recites wisely, swirling his drink around.
“I don’t see your old house motto preventing you from drinking yourself stupid last night,” Wonshik retorts, and Jaehwan sighs.
“Listen, Wonshikkie, I may have puked twice this morning, and only one instance involved actually making it to the toilet, but you’re so lovestruck over Hongbin it actually hurts to see you skirting around him like that. At this point I’m pretty sure it’s not even the initial sway Veelas have over the general population, you’re just in love. Ah, to be young again,” Jaehwan coos, and Wonshik is half a step away from giving his friend the worst noogie ever when sudden thought occurs to him.
“Wait,” Wonshik frowns.
“What?”
“How come neither you or Hakyeon became... infatuated with Hongbin?” Wonshik says, tilting his head.
Jaehwan arches an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asks.
“It’s just that, people are always involuntarily attracted to him, you know? It’s the Veela charm, like you said, but people, in passing, just can’t take their eyes off him. I mean, things get better once you get to know Hongbin more, but you and Hakyeon? Neither of your really... did that. Neither of you were starstruck by him when you first met.”
Jaehwan blinks slowly, as though trying to process the words, and then he shrugs. “I dunno. I mean, yeah, Hongbin’s hot as hell, but I’ve never given it an excessive amount of thought after our first meeting, you know? Not the way you do,” he adds, smirking over the rim of his cup, and Wonshik makes a face.
“You know, I’ve heard that only people who have experience real, true love can resist a Veela’s charms,” he jabs, half-joking. “That’d explain Sanghyuk’s disinterest because he’s got Taekwoon, but you— are you hooking up with a true love right now, Jaewhan?”
He makes a goo-goo face at his friend for good measure, teasing, but Wonshik doesn’t really expect Jaehwan’s eyes to go comedically wide, nor the sudden spew of coffee his friend spits into his face in shock. Yelling, Wonshik jerks back as Jaehwan coughs violently, clutching at his chest. Other diners turn and stare at them, a few wrinkling their nose in disgust. Wonshik ignores them.
“What was that for!” he hisses, grabbing a napkin to wipe his face.
“Morgana’s patterned bloomers, Wonshik, you don’t just say stuff like that,” Jaehwan huffs, holding his head in his hands with a groan. “It’s too early for this.”
“I’m not the one that’s hung over and still in yesterday’s night’s clothes sitting in some diner alone at eight in the morning,” Wonshik retorts, and then he freezes as realization crashes on him. “Wait a second.”
Jaehwan looks up, bloodshot eyes wide, and groans. “Don’t say it.”
“Just now,” Wonshik says, pointing accusingly at his friend. “I joked about you hooking up, and then you gave me that reaction.”
“Shut up, Wonshik,” Jaehwan says through gritted teeth, scowling at his friend, but oh, he finally gets it. The sorty had was definitely right about him being anti-Ravenclaw material.
“You son of a bitch, you did get laid yesterday night!” Wonshik cries triumphantly, grabbing Jaehwan’s arms in excitement, and gets a strong kick to his shins for his troubles. The old couple is giving them incredibly scandalized looks and the waitress hovering by the counter now has an extremely disappointed look on her face.
“I’m gonna jinx your boxers to give you the worst wedgies of your life,” Jaehwan snaps, pushing Wonshik off him. “And before you ask, no, I’m not telling you who it was.”
“Aw,” Wonshik pouts, trying to hide his grin. “That probably means I know them then, right?”
Jaehwan glares. “No, you don’t.”
“Shit, I for sure know them then.”
“No, Wonshik, you—”
“Oh my god! Remember back when I took Divination classes in school and read your fortunes for practice? And I predicted you’d find love in an old friend? Is this it? Is that coming true?”
“I sorely regret the day I ever let you use me as a fortune-telling guinea pig,” Jaehwan scowls, downing the rest of his coffee in one gulp. It’s truly a measure of how annoyed he is if he’s actually finishing his drink, and Wonshik relents a little because Jaehwan’s eyebags are starting to look pretty spectacular.
“Seriously though, this is great news,” he grins, clapping Jaehwan on the shoulder. “I’m glad for you.”
“You’re just happy I’m not harping on you about Hongbin right now,” Jaehwan mutters, running a hand through his curly hair. “Once the hangover passes I’ll be sure to get back at you.”
“Looking forwards to it,” Wonshik rolls his eyes. “Am I ever gonna meet this secret person?”
Jaehwan blinks, and then he shrugs, expression closing off in a very un-Jaehwan like manner. “Dunno,” he mumbles. “We’ll see, I guess.”
Wonshik furrows his eyebrows, a frown tugging at his mouth. Something was off. “Hey, you okay?” he says, reaching out to touch Jaehwan’s face, checking for his temperature. There isn’t a fever, but Jaehwan just deflates and leans limply against Wonshik’s hand, eyes drooping closed.
“Ask me that question again when I’m not wearing a vomit-stained shirt at eight in the morning, alright?” Jaehwan sighs, looking a lot older than he is, and Wonshik nods slowly, moving his hand to card his friend’s hair back. They sit in silence for a moment, letting the sounds of the quiet diner wash over them.
“Hey, so I finally got the invite to first-string tryouts,” Wonshik hums, gently steering their conversation to another subject, and Jaehwan actually perks up at that. “Maybe I’ll finally make it and my hair won’t be subjected to another one of your atrocious hair-dye potions anymore.”
Jaehwan manages to crack a grin at that. “Let’s hope so,” he agrees, and the particular topic from before is effectively dropped after that.