vampifies
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- SEVENTEEN (Band) (4)
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“It hurts, Cheollie,” Jeonghan repeated the same line Seungcheol had heard a hundred times before, yet, somehow, it always worked. If Seungcheol kept ignoring him, he’d start whining, complaining about how hard it was to live like this. So pathetic — but not as much as him. “Please.”
Jeonghan’s voice sounded desperate, and even though Seungcheol knew it was all an act, he still felt bad for him. He could never deny Jeonghan anything. All he wanted was to see him okay — because Jeonghan was his responsibility, a problem he had chosen to take care of.
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It was a Thursday afternoon, and with sleep taking over his body before even hitting seven o’clock, Seungcheol decided to stop by a café near his place — just to make sure he wouldn’t pass out while driving. He wasn’t really a coffee person, only drank it in desperate moments like this. He just didn’t like it, no matter the type, how it was made, whether it had too much sugar or none at all, with cream or without. Seungcheol just wasn’t a fan.
But now, he found himself drinking coffee almost every day. And the reason for that was so ridiculous, even he couldn’t believe it.
Falling for the cute waitress wasn’t part of the plan. All he wanted was to grab a coffee, pay, and leave. That was it. Until his eyes landed on the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life. Not even an exaggeration. Not even a little.
Or — where Seungcheol falls for the cute girl at the coffee shop.
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Jeonghan took a deep breath, shook his hands lightly, and knocked on the door in front of him. He knew this wasn’t a good idea — the regret hit him instantly. He shouldn’t be here, but it was too late now.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and lowered his head, letting his scarf cover part of his face. His nose was red from the winter cold — the season he loved so much. But standing outside in a snowstorm wasn’t exactly pleasant, even with warm coats and thick pants made for this kind of weather.
He was about to grumble when the door suddenly opened. The man in front of him — his ex-boyfriend, by the way — looked shocked, like he was seeing a ghost. Jeonghan had planned everything, spending minutes in front of the mirror figuring out exactly what to say, preparing himself for every possible reaction Seungcheol might have. But not this one.
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Jeonghan loved him. He never said it out loud — they didn’t really talk about feelings much — but they knew. Words weren’t necessary. The way Seungcheol held him whenever he cried over something that happened at home was enough for him to know. And Seungcheol knew too, Jeonghan was sure of it, even if they never actually said it.
So to him, Seungcheol was love.
Where this love was slowing destroying Jeonghan.