Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Here’s how Seungkwan’s life is supposed to go: he meets a nice boy, they fall in love, he introduces the love of his life to his best friends who also love him, they go on countless double-dates, they move in together, they raise their hundreds of children and pets all in the same home, they live happily ever after.

“Seungkwan,” Hansol says. “I can’t pretend to date you again.”

Seungkwan frowns. “The first time was real.”

“The first time was real,” Hansol agrees. “But the first time was also in middle school, when we thought that all dating involved was eating together and holding hands and nothing else.”

“It was also real the second time,” Seungkwan insists, not sure why he’s arguing this point, but it matters.

Hansol sighs. “It was also real the second time, which was in high school, and we kissed under your favorite tree in the park and you turned so red I thought I got you sick.”

It was also real all those other times they tried dating, before Seungkwan walked in on his best friends—his best friends who were not Hansol—having sex on the couch of their apartment in university and his whole world had metaphorically collapsed under his feet. He liked Hansol enough; it could even be argued that he loved Hansol to some degree, but he had never felt so horribly turned on until that first time he saw Seokmin on his knees, eyes closed and hair an absolute mess, sucking off Soonyoung with the most blissful look on his face.

The thing is, for the majority of his life, Seungkwan had assumed Hansol would be the aforementioned love of his life. He was cute, he was sweet, he had a nice dick, he was sometimes even funny—and if only they hadn’t tried this dating thing like fifteen times already, falling back in as friends after every attempt, it might’ve worked out.

If only Seungkwan hadn’t fallen in love with his other, dumber, significantly more frustrating best friends instead—didn’t have a weakness for Seokmin’s sunny smile or Soonyoung’s cackling laugh.

“All the other times could’ve been real,” he says. “If—”

“If only you weren’t hopelessly in love with the evolving natural disaster that we call Seokmin and Soonyoung,” Hansol recites. “I know.” He smiles, patting Seungkwan on the cheek. “Also, we don’t work very well in a relationship.”

“You’re an excellent boyfriend,” Seungkwan says honestly.

Hansol laughs, eyes crinkling cutely, and times like this make Seungkwan wish. “I’ll be sure to tell Chan about your endorsement.”

He sighs. “Tell your boyfriend I say hi.”

“He’s your friend, too,” Hansol reminds him. He waves as he opens the door, throwing out a distracted, “Oh, and today’s our anniversary so—”

“I’ll clean my side of the couch and set out the roses and be very absent this evening,” Seungkwan says. “Try not to desecrate anything important.”

Hansol grins, toothy and gummy and perfect. “Make sure to keep the door to your room closed. No promises otherwise.”

“Hansol!” he shouts, but Hansol’s already run through the door by then, shutting it with a firm click. “You asshole!”

Well, he has no intention of cleaning his side of the couch now.

-

Seokmin and Soonyoung officially started dating during Seungkwan’s second year of high school, after Seokmin had come up with a stupidly elaborate plan to ask Soonyoung out and everything had gone very, very wrong. His flowers had wilted, the cake he’d ordered had fallen to the ground, the last-minute cookies he’d tried baking in their home ec room had burned—all Seokmin had left was the song he’d prepared, and even then, he barely squeaked through because of his anxiety. In the end, though, none of it mattered because Soonyoung said yes.

Of course, Seungkwan had been with Seokmin every step of the way, reassuring and terrified and overreacting like any good best friend should be—and he was happy for them. He had been happy as he watched Soonyoung wrap his arms around Seokmin and squeeze him tight—politely averting his eyes when they started making out—and he had been proud that they had decided to take this step together. Anyone could tell that Seokmin and Soonyoung were meant for each other, had been playacting an old married couple since elementary school, effortlessly completing each other’s sentences and supporting each other through the most idiotic of schemes and still coming out whole in the end.  

Maybe his stomach hurt and his head started ringing a little, but that was only because he’d never been a fan of cutesy displays—and watching Soonyoung pick Seokmin up and spin him around in a circle had definitely been unspeakably adorable. A couple of days later, he and Hansol tried dating for the third time, and he distinctly remembers how hopeful he’d been that it’d work out.

It didn’t.

-

He doesn’t bother texting Seokmin or Soonyoung before he arrives at their door, whistling as he lets himself into their apartment. He’s had a spare key since they moved in a year ago, and he’s made ample use of the gift since.

“Hey guys,” he says, watching with amusement as Soonyoung nearly falls off the couch in his attempt to roll off Seokmin. “I brought dinner.”

“Seungkwan!” Seokmin says, voice a little husky but mostly squawky with surprise. “We didn’t expect you so soon.”

Soonyoung’s head pops out from behind the couch. “Yeah,” he says wryly, rubbing his head. “Obviously.”

These are the times he misses having a boyfriend, because Seokmin and Soonyoung are much more relaxed about showing affection in front of him when they think he has someone comforting him at night. He’s used to having Hansol as his crutch, an easy accomplice who allows him to greedily take in the way Soonyoung sweetly kisses Seokmin on the cheek, or the way they playfully tug at each other’s ears and fingers—or the times Seungkwan catches them in the middle of foreplay and they’re lazier about putting themselves back together. But now Hansol has an actual long-term boyfriend, and Seungkwan’s back where he started: alone, and still desperately in love with Seokmin and Soonyoung with no resolution in sight.

Seokmin skips over to greet Seungkwan with a hug, making sure to slide the bag of take-out onto the counter and out of harm’s way. “Our favorite dongsaeng, always taking care of us.”

Seungkwan sinks into the hug and tells himself it’s normal. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“We bought the comfiest couch for that very purpose,” Soonyoung says, finally making his way over to hug Seungkwan himself. “Only the best for our cutest dongsaeng.”

Seungkwan frowns. “I get it,” he grumbles. “I’m younger, I know.”

Seokmin laughs, ruffling Seungkwan's hair and poking his cheek while Soonyoung transfers their food to the table. “Also shorter,” he says, dodging out of the way when Seungkwan moves to hit him.

Soonyoung catches Seokmin by the arm, pulling him down into one of the chairs. “We can keep teasing him later,” Soonyoung says, bowls and utensils already set up. “Let’s eat first.”

Seokmin’s expression immediately softens, and he obediently sits down, casually leaning into Soonyoung. “Of course,” he says, briefly pressing his mouth to Soonyoung’s shoulder while Seungkwan pretends not to look.

He catches how Soonyoung very deliberately places his hand on Seokmin’s knee—not his thigh, which is where Seungkwan is ninety percent sure Soonyoung would like to have his hand—and has to stop himself from groaning in frustration. He’d never ask his friends outright, because how would that sound? “Oh, I don’t mind if you guys basically fondle each other in front of me, and while we’re on that note, would totally be down to watch you two fuck.” If he can’t participate, it’d be nice to well. It’d be nice to at least watch.

He’s not saying his depressing infatuation is turning him into a voyeur, but it’s turning him into a voyeur. He can only hope Seokmin and Soonyoung have a hidden exhibitionist streak in them—and he knows that sounds desperate and pathetic, but at this point, he’ll take whatever scraps he can get.

-

They usually spend the nights Seungkwan comes over in one of three ways, depending on the circumstances: one, they’re severely behind in work and spend the whole evening studying together at the table or draped along the couch; two, they want to go out so they waste an hour eating and lowkey pre-gaming the pre-game at Seungcheol and Jihoon’s place; three, they have time to kill and no inclination to go out, so they put their brains to rest by watching a reality show or movie or something equally mind-numbing.

Today is number three, with the added benefit of the cheap wine Soonyoung and Seokmin keep stashed away on the top of their fridge, and they’re watching some dumb movie called Kingsman that Soonyoung’s already seen in theaters and insists they watch because “the suits, they’re so cool.”

Seungkwan’s learned not to question Soonyoung’s taste in movies after years of experience, and the film is interesting enough to keep his attention. The wine helps as well.

They’re just about at the end of the movie when one of the disposable side characters makes some terrible joke about anal, and for some inexplicable reason, that’s what breaks Seungkwan.

“This fictional princess is getting more action than I am,” he moans. “I’m going to end up alone forever.”

Seokmin rubs his back soothingly. “No, you won’t,” he says earnestly. “You have so much time, you’ll definitely meet the right person.”

That’s not Seungkwan's problem though. He’s already met the right people, but that won’t stop him from ending up alone.

Soonyoung slides their refilled glasses of wine back to them, a drunk, dopey smile on his face already, the lightweight. “You won’t end up alone,” he says cheerfully, hooking an arm around Seokmin’s shoulders. “You’ll always have us.”

That’s the problem, Seungkwan wants to wail. You’re both so perfect and beautiful and unattainable, and I’m going to die alone imagining how hot it’d be to see you both naked.

“How are you both so patient?” he asks instead. “I complain about this every week.”

“Every other day,” Soonyoung corrects, while Seokmin adds, “We just want you to be happy.”

I want your dicks in me, Seungkwan thinks grouchily, but we can’t always get what we want. He raises the empty wine bottle and says, “I’m going to open another one, don’t do anything too scandalous while I’m gone.”

Seokmin laughs. “Only if it takes you as long to open this one as the last. With all your practice, I thought you’d be faster.”

“The cork broke!” he says with a pout. “I’m not used to your corkscrew yet.”

“We’ve had it for a year,” Soonyoung says plainly. ”Also, you bought it for us.”

Seungkwan leaves without a reply, hoping to find peace in the next bottle. It's not likely, but that’s never stopped him from trying before.

-

Growing up, they’d been inseparable; had always been there for each other and made sure to do everything together—their own version of the Three Musketeers.

There was the spring day in sixth grade when they decided to learn how to climb trees, which ended with a sprained wrist for Seokmin and a sprained ankle for Seungkwan, all of them bawling in the hospital emergency room together.

There was the autumn afternoon in fourth grade when Soonyoung had been bedridden with the nightmare of all colds, and Seokmin and Seungkwan, gifted elementary students that they were, cooked an edible pot of instant ramyun for him to snack on.

There was the dreary winter morning in tenth grade when they played hooky from school and ended up spending their full allowance at a PC bang, spamming games of League until dinnertime and shouting whenever one of them died. (Seokmin wouldn’t stop accusing Seungkwan of abandoning them to afk farm in bot lane while the rest of his team died around him, and Soonyoung refused to play anything other than Teemo the whole day. In other words, it’d been a disaster.)

Memorably, there was the last night of their summer holidays, the last before Seungkwan would join them in middle school, when they practiced kissing, Seungkwan carefully cupping Soonyoung’s cheeks in his hands and lightly pecking him on his lips before repeating the maneuver with Seokmin. He still remembers every detail of that night, has replayed it in his head far more times than he’s willing to admit.

He’d let out a choked giggle, a blush burning his face and darkening even further at the bright grin Seokmin had shot him. “That was easy,” Seokmin said, sounding a little disappointed. “Kind of underwhelming, considering, you know?”

Soonyoung frowned. “It was our first try,” he said, pulling Seokmin in for a second kiss, while Seungkwan sat there and watched and felt something indefinable curling in his stomach.

When they pulled apart again, Seokmin’s lips were noticeably red and just a little bit swollen, and Soonyoung’s cheeks were flushed bright red. “Still don’t get it,” Seokmin teased, and Soonyoung sighed and grumbled something about stupid dumb idiots before turning to Seungkwan and practically tackling him to the ground.

“See, this is how you’re supposed to react,” Soonyoung said proudly, stroking a hand along Seungkwan’s cheeks as Seungkwan let out a hysterical giggle and tried to hide his face, only to be stopped by Soonyoung’s grip on his wrist. “Relax, Seungkwan.” Then Soonyoung lowered his face and gave Seungkwan the messiest kiss of his life—too much tongue, too much saliva, too much everything, and it was perfect all the same.

“That’s unfair,” he heard Seokmin complain from where he was trapped under Soonyoung. “Seungkwan’s just easy.” There was some shuffling, and then he could see Seokmin’s face hovering just behind Soonyoung’s, grinning down at him. “But as long as you have him there like that—”

“No!” he immediately said, struggling to get his limbs in order, but Soonyoung had him locked down tight. The first touch of Seokmin’s fingers against his sides had him yelping, squirming left and right to find some way out of his prison. “Stop!”

“You’re so cute like this.” Soonyoung laughed and leaned down a little harder, putting the brunt of his two-years-older weight on Seungkwan and squashing all resistance. He brushed his lips against Seungkwan’s again, and that time Seungkwan felt a tingle along his spine, electric and weird. “Our cute little Kwannie.”

“I’m not little,” he protested, squirming again when Seokmin’s fingers dug deeper into his sides. “Stop that!”

“But you admit you’re cute?” Seokmin cooed, making loud kissy noises while pinching Seungkwan’s cheeks with both hands. Soonyoung continued to cackle, still trapping Seungkwan in place. He’d known they were just playing with him, another game where the three of them would keep pushing each other until they cracked, but this time, he’d felt something uncomfortable and itchy under his skin, an anxious energy building whenever they touched.

But that had always been the thing with their games; they never had a defined stopping point. And this situation had only been complicated further, because Seungkwan didn’t even know if he wanted them to stop. He felt helpless when Seokmin dove in to kiss him again, fingers ducking under his shirt, and he stared wide-eyed when Seokmin pulled Soonyoung’s face back in, kissing him on the lips as well.

Eventually, Seungkwan threw Soonyoung off of him, then wrestled around until he had Seokmin under him and at his mercy. He grabbed a pillow to try and suffocate his friend to death while Soonyoung collapsed from laughter next to them, and they ended that night breathless and giggling into the blankets.

-

The best part of his birthday is that it’s just late enough to miss the winter holidays, but early enough in the semester that people aren’t anxiously worrying about coursework yet. In other words, he’s never had trouble persuading his friends to celebrate with him, and this year’s no different, culminating in a house party held at his and Hansol’s apartment. Unlike previous years, however, Seungkwan is determined to be more responsible now that he’s officially crossing to the next decade and ending his teenage years.

He points to the sticky note slapped haphazardly to the cabinet. “Responsibility,” he says proudly, already a little tipsy from the three tally marks on his note. “To keep track of how many drinks I have.”

Hansol takes one look at it and sighs. “This is going to turn out terribly.”

“It was Jeonghan’s idea,” Seungkwan continues, taking another sip from his drink. “I’m making everyone do it.”

Hansol sighs again. “This is just going to turn into a competition—” he starts, but he’s interrupted by Chan smacking his palm against the cabinet, adding his note to the small collection already there.

“This is an amazing idea!” Chan shouts, quickly grabbing a pen and scrawling his name along the top along with four tally marks of his own.

Seungkwan cheers, welcoming his new convert with excitement, and is overjoyed when Chan reciprocates. “I like him more than you already,” he says, hugging Chan close to his chest and glaring over at Hansol. “He knows how to be responsible.”

“When did you get two drinks ahead of me?” Hansol asks, eyeing the cup in Chan’s hand suspiciously. “How much is in that?” And then he seems to realize something, staring at his own cup with horror. “You made mine—how much is in mine?”

“You won’t know until you make your own note,” Chan says, slipping away before Hansol can get his hands on him. Seungkwan watches the whole exchange with a smirk, laughing at the disgruntled look on Hansol’s face.

“This is going to be amazing,” he says as he walks away, and proceeds to run straight into the kitchen table.

-

The only problem with being the birthday boy is that everyone wants to have a drink with him. This would be fine if his friends arrived at approximately the same time, but they trickle in in thirty-minute to one-hour increments, in small groups that egg him to take a shot with them and issue corny cheers ("There are good ships and there are wood ships, the ships that sail the sea, but the best ships are friendships, and may they always be!") until there are eight tally marks on his note and he’s pretty sure he can no longer feel his face.

He finds Soonyoung at the living room table, where his friend is trying to best Wonwoo at what looks to be an extremely competitive game of Speed. Soonyoung doesn’t even flinch when Seungkwan flops down next to him, draping himself along Soonyoung’s back.

“Soonyoungie,” he whines, rubbing his head against Soonyoung’s shoulder when he only hums in reply. “I’m old.”

“Then I must be ancient,” Soonyoung replies absently, frowning as he stares down at his cards. It’s a poor spread; Soonyoung’s always been notoriously terrible at games, especially against Wonwoo, and it doesn’t help that Wonwoo’s smirking at him, fanning and un-fanning his cards in some sort of strange intimidation tactic. “At least our spirits are young.”

“I’m old and alone,” he continues sadly. “Even on my birthday I won’t have someone to kiss.”

Soonyoung frowns, looking conflicted as he glances from his cards to Seungkwan’s slumped form on his shoulder. “Go kiss Wonwoo,” he finally says. “He’s pretty ugly, but he’s serviceable.”

“Wow, thanks,” Wonwoo says dryly. “Be careful or you might inflate my ego.”

“I try,” Soonyoung says. He ruffles Seungkwan’s hair, still distracted by his cards. “If you’re really that worried, I’ll kiss you myself later.”

Oh. Seungkwan blinks. “I’m holding you to that,” he says, trying to calm his speeding heart. “I’m going to—drink, yeah. Drink some more.” He pushes himself up, and Soonyoung sends him off with a smile.

“Happy birthday, Seungkwan,” he says cheerfully. “Love you.”

Seungkwan’s not sure what his face looks like, but he’s sure it’s messy and disgusting and he blames it on the alcohol. “Thanks,” he says clumsily, barely forcing out a choked, “love you, too.”

-

His sticky note has ten tally marks when he finds Soonyoung again, slouched back on one of the couches with a drink in his hand. He skips over, collapsing into the empty spot next to Soonyoung and flinging an arm around him.

“Soonyoung!” he exclaims. “Here you are.”

“Here I am,” Soonyoung says, patting Seungkwan on the knee. “What can I do for the birthday boy?”

“You owe me,” he says, bold and blunt and trying to seem confident even though his spine feels like it’s made of jelly. “You said you’d kiss me.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Oh, right. C’mere.” He pulls Seungkwan in, pressing a soft kiss to Seungkwan’s forehead. The world freezes for the three seconds the kiss lasts, Soonyoung’s lips warm and dry against his face.

“There you go,” Soonyoung says, smile fond as he pats Seungkwan’s face, right over where he’d just been kissed.

And maybe it’s the kiss or that smile, so doting and affectionate, that fires the courage underneath the alcohol flooding Seungkwan's blood. “Can I tell you a secret?” he whispers, giggling as he falls against Soonyoung’s shoulder.

Soonyoung laughs as well, pinching one of Seungkwan’s cheeks. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping a secret from me,” he complains. “I’m one of your best friends—we don’t keep secrets from each other, remember?”

“Well, that’s a part of the reason,” he says, leaning in closer. “I’m in love with my best friends.”

Soonyoung blinks. “Hansol?”

Seungkwan lets his head loll back, blearily looking up at the ceiling. “Oh, him, too,” he says. “You’re right, how silly of me.”

“You two have been dancing around this for years,” Soonyoung continues exasperatedly, like he hadn't heard Seungkwan—he does get stuck in his drunk mini-tirades sometimes. “You just have to tell him.”

“I can’t do that,” Seungkwan says, affronted by the very idea. Tell Seokmin and Soonyoung? Insane. “That would ruin everything.”

Soonyoung frowns. “What, because he’s dating someone else?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan says. “Exactly that.” Seokmin and Soonyoung are dating, and Seungkwan would never allow himself to jeopardize their relationship. That, and his friendship with the two of them, of course.

Soonyoung sighs. “Seungkwan—”

He quickly raises a hand to cover Soonyoung’s mouth, accidentally catching Soonyoung’s cheek in the process. “Shhhh,” he says. “It’s a secret, remember?”

Soonyoung’s eyes narrow, but he nods. And then he bites Seungkwan’s palm, and Seungkwan shrieks, ripping his hand back and nearly tumbling off the narrow couch. Soonyoung laughs as he helps Seungkwan up, dragging him back to the kitchen to get another drink, and the party continues. After two more shots, egged on by an equally drunk Minghao, he jumps onto the couch and pulls a laughing Seokmin up with him, an empty beer bottle clutched to his chest as a substitute microphone.

-

“Seungkwan,” Soonyoung says, “Do you remember anything from last night?”

The sticky note Seungkwan had found pressed to his forehead when he woke up this morning had a whopping fifteen tally marks. “No,” he says wearily. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Soonyoung says. “But there’s plenty of pictures and video, so—”

“I will never open our group chat again,” Seungkwan says, because he’s very good at reading between the lines. “Tell me I didn’t dance on one of the tables again.”

Soonyoung awkwardly averts his gaze. “Uh, well, it was the couch this time, and you also sang—but it was really good, considering.”

Seungkwan covers his face and slumps over with a groan. “Strike me down now,” he says, feeling pitiful. “It’s not worth it.”

“You tried to sing both parts of the duet at first, but Seokmin joined once you realized you couldn’t harmonize with yourself.”

“At least tell me it wasn’t—”

“It was 'My Ear’s Candy,'” Soonyoung continues, and at least he sounds apologetic about it, but if it was that song, that also means—“You tied a sweater around your waist and pretended it was a skirt.”

Seungkwan would honestly be incredibly happy to duck back into his bed and waste into nonexistence. “Why did no one stop me?” He peeks out from beneath his arms to glare at Soonyoung. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Seokmin looked so hot in sunglasses,” Soonyoung sighs, gazing into the distance. “And you were so cute.”

Seungkwan's face burns, and he’s glad he’s already covering it with his arms because the last thing he wants is Soonyoung teasing him about his red ears. “That’s not the point.”

“It is, though.” Soonyoung’s tone has changed into something more earnest, a slight smirk on his face. “You’re a softie, that’s the problem.”

Seungkwan blinks. “The problem?”

“You should tell Hansol,” Soonyoung says, stroking his chin like he does when he thinks he’s being wise. Seungkwan continues staring, uncomprehending. “Don’t you remember?”

“Remember?” he repeats blankly.

“You told me you were in love with your best friend.”

And Seungkwan thought he wanted to die before, but that was nothing compared to now. “What?” he croaks out. “I—what?”

His past drunk self had betrayed him even more than he thought possible, and he’s not sure his present self knows how to salvage the situation. His only saving grace is that Soonyoung thinks it’s Hansol he’s in love with, and while embarrassing and frustrating, his inevitable rejection might buy him a couple weeks of fawning attention from his best friends.

“You should tell him,” Soonyoung repeats again. “I think it’ll be good for you both.”

Seungkwan frowns. “What, so I can get rejected? No thanks.”

Soonyoung sighs. “It’ll make it easier to move on if you get a direct answer.” He pokes Seungkwan in the cheek. “You keep telling us how your boyfriends complain about commitment issues, and this is why. You’re stuck on Hansol.”

Even if he doesn’t know it, Soonyoung is incredibly close to the truth—just with the wrong people in mind. “I’ll think about it,” he says, crossing his arms defensively when Soonyoung raises an eyebrow at him. “I will.”

-

To Seungkwan’s credit, he’s tried dating people other than Hansol, but Seungkwan’s not great at multitasking, and when pressed to prioritize, he’d choose his best friends over his boyfriend every time. If all of his previous boyfriends were to gather in one room and discuss their experiences dating him, they’d all have one complaint in common: Seungkwan’s emotionally unavailable.

“Don’t you see why your boyfriends might not appreciate that?” Hansol had asked one time when Seungkwan was bemoaning the failure of his latest relationship by downing a bottle of wine.

“Oh, I’m not actually all that sad about this one, I just wanted an excuse to drink,” he'd said, taking another swig for good measure. Glasses were for those with shame.

Hansol gasped and dragged the bottle away from his grasp. “I can’t believe I let you drink half of this.”

“I deserve it,” Seungkwan hissed. “I don’t even think he believed in foreplay, he just wanted to stick his dick in—not that he knew what to do with it.” He made grabbing motions at the bottle. “And god forbid the idea that I top him, I don’t think his precious masculinity would’ve survived.”

Hansol sighed, but gave the bottle over, and Seungkwan gratefully took another gulp. “Remind me why you dated him again?”

“He was tall,” Seungkwan grumbled. He’d also been quiet and reserved and nothing like Seokmin or Soonyoung at all.

“Wow, what an incredible personality trait,” Hansol said, and it wasn’t like Seungkwan could disagree.

“You know I’m trying to find something serious,” he said. “I’d like to fall in love, but—”

“But you’re already in love, I know,” Hansol said, rolling his eyes. “You sound like a terrible romance novel.”

“I wish I were,” Seungkwan said grouchily. “At least I’d be guaranteed a happy ending.”

-

The best non-Hansol relationship he had lasted a month and was with a serious, easily irritated upperclassman, a friend of Soonyoung’s named Lee Jihoon, who had a sharp tongue and an even sharper wit. Seungkwan has a few hypotheses about why it worked, but his best one—the one Jihoon agrees with as well, so it’s pretty much a guaranteed fact—is that they didn’t try to hide anything. They had a lot in common: Seungkwan was in love with his best friends, Jihoon was also in love with his best friend, they both enjoyed a good ballad about heartbreak and hope, and they shared a favorite hobby in shit-talking everyone around them. It worked.

It worked until Seungcheol, Jihoon’s oblivious idiot of a best friend, realized his own feelings and they had some gratuitous, tear-filled confessional that Jihoon wouldn’t stop raving about for weeks after, not that he would ever admit it. Seungkwan cheered his friend-no-longer-with-benefits on and mentally said a sad goodbye to Jihoon’s pretty and talented mouth. Also his dick—it was truly an excellent dick.

In the end, this means Jihoon’s a little soft on Seungkwan and knows significantly more about his situation than anyone not named Hansol. His softness doesn’t mean he won’t laugh at all of Seungkwan’s misfortune, anyway.

Like now, nearly a week after Seungkwan’s disaster of a birthday party, but apparently Jihoon has the memory of an elephant because he spends the first minute of their coffee date laughing, doubled over in his chair and furiously clapping his hands.

Seungkwan scowls from his seat across the table. “You’re the worst,” he says. “I haven’t even told you anything.”

“You don’t need to,” Jihoon says, smirking into his coffee. “I have video.”

Seungkwan lets his head drop flat to the table, not even caring how much his forehead hurts from the impact. “Please, mercy.”

Jihoon laughs. “Don’t worry, I still have need for you.”

“You are a gracious and just ruler,” Seungkwan recites dutifully. “I will buy you your second coffee.”

Jihoon reaches over to pat him on the head. “This is why you’re my favorite dongsaeng.” He snakes his hand back. “Also, Minghao convinced Mingyu to take an aerial yoga class with him.”

Seungkwan blinks. “Does Mingyu even know what aerial yoga is?”

“That’s the best part,” Jihoon says, breaking out into cackling laughter again. “He doesn’t, he’s just whipped.”

“He’s going to die.” Seungkwan should probably feel more horror, but he laughs instead. “He can’t even touch his toes.”

“I know, it’s going to be great.” Jihoon grins, teeth bright and sharp, and then he looks down at the table and pauses. “You’re wearing it again,” he says, and it takes Seungkwan a few seconds to realize what Jihoon’s talking about. He reflexively hides his hands from view, but it’s too late. Very few people ever notice the ring, and even fewer have asked about it, but Jihoon’s observant and nosy, and someone Seungkwan’s never bothered lying to.

“I am,” he says, trying his best to not wince under Jihoon’s pointed gaze. “I know I said I’d stop, but I’m feeling weak—”

“What happened,” Jihoon says flatly.

Seungkwan sighs, fiddling with the ring, its weight unfamiliar after months of absence. “I fucked up,” he says, sinking lower in his chair when Jihoon tilts his head to the side. “When I was drunk, I confessed to Soonyoung.”

Jihoon still doesn’t say anything, and Seungkwan knows he’s waiting for the rest of the story. “But I said best friends, so he thought I meant Hansol.”

“So,” Jihoon says slowly. “Did you tell Hansol?”

Seungkwan’s eyes widen. “No, but—” He shakes his head. “It’s fine, they won’t ask him. And he wouldn’t tell them, anyway.”

Jihoon still looks doubtful, but seems to relent when Seungkwan flashes a winning smile. “If you’re sure.”

Seungkwan gives the ring another twist, fingering the smooth edges one last time before he clamps his hands together. “It’ll be fine.”

-

During his second year of high school, Seungkwan had helped Soonyoung shop for couple rings. More specifically, Soonyoung was looking for an anniversary present and Seungkwan was dragging him by the ear to buy couple rings.

“I can’t believe you haven’t gotten matching stuff already,” he complained. “You both love that sort of thing.”

“That requires so much effort,” Soonyoung said with an exaggerated sigh. “And anyway, we have those shirts, right?”

“That’s called our school uniform,” Seungkwan replied. “Everyone in our school wears one.”

Soonyoung frowned, eyebrows furrowed. “No, I mean the striped one.” He waved a hand in the air. “The white shirt? Black stripes?”

“Everyone has a striped shirt like that, even I have one,” Seungkwan said, flicking Soonyoung on the forehead. “This is different—you didn’t buy those shirts with each other in mind, it was all by chance.” He finally succeeded in dragging Soonyoung the last few feet into one of the cheap trinket stores that had rows of rings on display. “This is specifically for you and him. Something you bought with each other in mind.”

Soonyoung still didn’t look all that convinced, but he’d always been a sucker for sentimentality, and eventually agreed with a shrug. “Fine.”

Getting Soonyoung to the store turned out to be the easy part, because Soonyoung immediately rushed to the ugliest ring on display: an oversized golden ring that glinted of cheap plastic. “Wow,” he said with wonder, reaching out to touch it, and Seungkwan carefully gripped Soonyoung by the collar and pulled him away.

“No,” he said, and Soonyoung pouted at him and whined a little, but he still followed Seungkwan over to the other end of the display.

“I thought this was supposed to be my choice,” Soonyoung said, this time choosing a ring that had a giant glittery star as the centerpiece. Seungkwan gently covered Soonyoung’s hand with his own and pushed the ring back into the plush.

“You asked for my help,” Seungkwan said, matter-of-fact. “This has to be something you’re both okay wearing in public.”

Soonyoung hummed, still looking at the star ring, and okay, that would probably be a ring both Soonyoung and Seokmin would proudly wear. But as their best friend, it was Seungkwan’s duty to reign them in when their senses of style were trashy or just plain ugly.

“This,” he said, picking out a plain metal band. “This would be good.”

He could see Soonyoung visibly deflate, and Seungkwan was already starting to feel bad, but there was absolutely no way he’d allow Soonyoung to buy something as horrible as the star ring.

“Really?” Soonyoung asked. “But that’s so boring.”

Seungkwan sighed, surveying the rows of rings in front of them before finally picking out another metal band, the top flat and rectangular, with lines drawn diagonally from corner to corner. It was still simple, but with a tasteful amount of flair. “How about this—”

“Oh!” Soonyoung snatched the ring out of Seungkwan’s hands. “I like this.” He looked over at Seungkwan, smile infectious and bright again. “Thanks.”

Seungkwan had always found it impossible not to smile back at Soonyoung, lips curling up instinctively while his heart warmed from pride. “Of course,” he said. “That’s what best friends are for.”

-

The next time they gathered as three, couple rings adorning both Seokmin and Soonyoung’s pinkies, Soonyoung had grabbed Seungkwan by the wrist, spreading out his hand and dropping a matching ring into Seungkwan’s palm. Soonyoung had grinned at him while Seungkwan stared, dumbstruck, and tried to stop his mouth from dropping open.

“We wouldn’t want you to feel left out,” Seokmin said with a matching smile, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been there with us through it all.”

“This was your idea in the first place,” Soonyoung said. He carefully slid the ring onto Seungkwan’s pinky, curling his own fingers around Seungkwan’s thumb. “C’mon, for old times’ sake?”

Seokmin joined in, wrapping Seungkwan’s fingers around his own thumb, mirroring the action with Soonyoung’s hand. “Boo!” Seokmin yelled, with a quipped “Seok!” from Soonyoung and—

“Soon,” he said with a startled laugh, raising his arm along with his two idiot best friends, smoothly flowing straight into their joint catchphrase, “Unite!”

He should’ve known then, with his pulse thrumming in his head and his face and neck turning red from something other than embarrassment—he was absolutely fucked.

He still wears the ring, but only when he’s not trying to distract himself by dating someone else (usually Hansol). Seokmin and Soonyoung are just as delighted to see him whether the ring is on his hand or not, and sometimes after a really bad breakup (usually not Hansol; their breakups were mild and more akin to afterthoughts than anything else) they’ll coo over Seungkwan and ruffle his hair and feed him their inedible creations until he kicks them away and makes them all some instant ramyun. Sometimes they’ll clink their rings together, and even though he feels like a child every time they do it, they’ll bully him into doing their cheer and it never fails to make him laugh.

They’re the best friends Seungkwan will ever have, and sometimes, when he’s wearing their ring, he can pretend they’re something more.

-

Seungkwan’s favorite place in the library is on the third floor, a corner tucked behind some empty offices and a maze of bookshelves that has a few tables next to the windows. There’s enough natural light to reassure him that he’s alive, and it’s isolated enough that whispering doesn’t bother any of the other library patrons. It’s a spot Seokmin and Soonyoung had showed him in the first week of his first year, grinning from ear to ear as they excitedly whispered about how they had found it. When studying in their apartments fails them, it’s their go-to spot to attempt productivity.

He and Soonyoung are there now, with Seungkwan slowly falling into his textbook as the words blur in front of him.

“Have you talked to Hansol recently?” Soonyoung asks suddenly, and Seungkwan raises his head and looks at him groggily.

“Um,” Seungkwan says. “No, not really.”

Due to a combination of work and coincidence, Seungkwan hasn’t actually seen Hansol other than in passing in the past two weeks. Classes have started ramping up, and Seungkwan’s spending more time in the library than in his apartment, while Hansol’s been with Chan during his free time more often than not, so it’s been a while since they’ve had a conversation more meaningful than asking whether the coffee’s been brewed that morning yet.

But then he thinks back to his birthday, and immediately says, “I took your advice, I told him.” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow, and Seungkwan adds lamely, “I—I just, wanted some space.”

“Right,” Soonyoung says. Seungkwan waits for more questioning, only to be surprised when Soonyoung turns back to his laptop. “Good to know.”

-

Ever since meeting in elementary school, Seungkwan and Hansol have never spent more than a couple of weeks without talking, and college hasn’t changed anything. So on a random Thursday night, when Seungkwan has thirty pages of reading and a problem set left to finish, he knocks on the door to Hansol’s room instead, strolling inside before he hears a response.

Hansol swivels around in his chair to face him, raising one of the ears of his headphones. “When have you ever knocked?”

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” Seungkwan whines, flopping down on Hansol’s bed and rolling around for good measure. “I didn’t know if we were still friends.”

“It’s been like, two weeks,” Hansol says, but he pulls his headphones down so they rest around his neck. “All we’ve been doing is studying.”

Seungkwan pouts. “But I miss you. How could you leave me to suffer alone?”

“I’ve seen your snaps and your insta,” Hansol says dryly. “Have you eaten even one meal by yourself this week?”

“Seokmin and Soonyoung don’t count,” Seungkwan says. “Soonyoung’s in his last year and Seokmin’s a slacker, they always have time.”

Hansol snorts, but doesn’t say anything to disagree. “Have they, um.” He waves his hand in the air in an awful attempt to make things clear. “Been acting strange? Or said anything weird lately?”

Seungkwan frowns, thinking back to his pleasant and incredibly normal interactions with Seokmin and Soonyoung. They’ve been a little clingier than usual, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary after he went through a breakup. “No. Why?”

Hansol glances to the side, like he always does when he’s trying to hide something. “They mentioned something about a belated birthday present,” he says. “I was wondering if they’d given it to you yet.”

“My birthday was weeks ago,” Seungkwan says, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not telling me something.”

Hansol raises his arms, ducking his head down in the universal sign of surrender. “They didn’t mention what it was,” he says. “They just wanted some input.”

Seungkwan still doesn’t quite believe Hansol, but badgering his friend would only lead to excessive tears and whining on Seungkwan’s part—not what he wanted to deal with when he still had homework to finish. Also, he has a soft spot for surprises, so he lets it go.

“You’re the one that’s acting strange,” he says, poking Hansol on the thigh with his foot. “Now tell me where you’ve been these past few weeks, you’ve actually been a ghost.”

-

There are times Seungkwan regrets not focusing more on his singing, because he knows he’s good, but he’d never had the confidence to see if he could take that talent somewhere. He’d confessed that hopeless childhood dream to Seokmin sometime during the nervous nightmare that had been his first set of finals in his first year, because Seokmin’s enthusiasm for singing had always rivaled his own, and yet they had both ended up in university majoring in extremely practical subjects (marketing for Seungkwan and public health for Seokmin). They were always the first ones to suggest a noraebang outing, or force Soonyoung to sing along with the radio with them in the car. They’d been active participants of their high school’s musical extracurricular activities, and it had felt oddly wasteful when that never led anywhere.

“It’s not too late,” Seokmin told him seriously. “We can debut as a duo, with Soonyoung as our manager. Our first song would be called 'Say Yes,' a mesmerizing ballad about how we hypnotized a poor production company into okay-ing our debut.”

Seungkwan scowled and weakly kicked Seokmin’s knee. “Soonyoung would be a terrible manager,” he said. “It’d be better to debut as a trio. Hansol could be our manager.”

Seokmin laughed. “Hansol would be eaten alive,” he said. “He can be our rapper, to give us some musical diversity.”

“Oh god.” Seungkwan raised a hand to rub at his eyes. “Have you been listening to his high school mixtape again? Don’t give him any ideas.”

Seokmin pitched his voice nasally high in a decent imitation. “Yeah, I know I’m only seventeen and I only got a few dollars—”

Seungkwan slapped his hand over Seokmin’s mouth, quickly shutting the terrible rapping down. “You don’t ever think we made the wrong decision?”

Seungkwan could feel Seokmin’s mouth widen into a grin even before he pulled his hand back. “As long as we’re together, I don’t think we can go wrong,” Seokmin said, and Seungkwan felt his stomach twist. “Tell me the moment you decide to drop out, and I’ll be right at your side. We can try our luck together.”

-

Seokmin isn’t actually a slacker, although he has more free time than Seungkwan would expect from a third-year vaguely thinking about applying to graduate school. Way too much free time, because he lets Seungkwan drag him out of the library for dinner, and then he’s the one to suggest an impromptu study break.

“We’ve been studying since morning,” Seokmin wheedles, and that’s how they find themselves at their favorite noraebang chain in a snug private room, a six-pack of beer they’d smuggled in sitting on the table.

Seungkwan busies himself with the remote, standing as he fiddles with the controls while Seokmin slouches on the couch. He says absently, “I can’t even remember the last time we did this.”

“Back when Super Junior had thirteen members,” Seokmin replies seriously.

Seungkwan snorts. “I think that was before we were born.”

He feels Seokmin’s hands on his waist, and lets himself be pulled back, only to fall unceremoniously into Seokmin’s lap. He’s too slow to react when Seokmin’s arms wrap securely around his hips, locking him down tight.

“Um,” Seungkwan says, paralyzed by Seokmin's chin resting on his shoulder. “Is this comfortable for you?”

Seokmin laughs, breath warm against Seungkwan’s neck, and Seungkwan can feel the most uncomfortable tingling sensation run up his spine. “Of course,” he says, head nuzzling closer, and Seungkwan’s glad Seokmin can’t see his face right now because he probably looks like a tomato. “I can’t think of a place I’d rather be.”

“Right,” Seungkwan says, sounding slightly strangled. “I—let’s choose a song?”

There’s absolutely no way Seokmin’s lips are barely brushing his neck, and those can’t be Seokmin’s hands clasped together against his stomach, dangerously close to Seungkwan’s crotch.

“You go first,” Seokmin says cheerfully.

“Oh—um,” Seungkwan splutters, leaning forward to flip through the song book and trying extremely hard to not think about the position they’re in. And if it were anyone else—if Seungkwan didn’t know better—he would think Seokmin’s hitting on him, or being exceptionally direct in his flirting, but Seokmin’s dating Soonyoung, and he’s always been touchy. Seungkwan’s a good friend who is absolutely not in love with his best friends, and he will react like a normal person and pretend everything’s fine.

He ends up picking an old favorite, a song that he’s rehearsed so much that he could sing it in his sleep. The first few meters of Big Mama’s “Forsake” play from the speakers, and Seungkwan instinctually brings the microphone to his mouth, forcing himself not to flinch when he feels Seokmin’s fingers run down his thigh.

“Good choice,” Seokmin says, and Seungkwan wonders if this is how he’s going to die. He chokes through most of the main verses, barely saving himself during the chorus, and he unsurprisingly fails miserably. “Too bad,” Seokmin murmurs, and Seungkwan finally manages to break free from Seokmin’s hug and slides into the seat next to him. “Well, a good warmup?”

Seungkwan shrugs, not trusting his voice, as Seokmin searches through the song book this time. Seokmin belts his way through a ballad, making significant eye contact with Seungkwan but no unusual moves otherwise. Then he drags Seungkwan up to the standing mic to bluster their way through a girl group song that’s octaves out of their register, and Seungkwan eventually relaxes, laughing as they both try to hit a hypersonic high note.

They sing a relatively serious version of Huh Gak and Yoo Seungwoo’s “Mono Drama,” and then Seokmin laughs his way through Seungkwan’s rendition of SNSD’s “Gee,” complete with the accompanying dance, and it’s just like every other stress-relieving episode of noraebang that he and Seokmin have indulged in. Seungkwan’s busy keying in a rock song he was humming along to on the subway when Seokmin taps him on the shoulder.

“Why don’t we make this more interesting?” he asks, continuing when Seungkwan eyes him curiously. “Competition to see who can get the highest score? Winner gets to request one thing from the loser, no restrictions.”

Seungkwan, armed with a competitive streak a mile wide, has never been one to step down from a challenge, uncaring of consequences. He has no idea what he’d ask of Seokmin if he won anyway, but he’s sure a suitable punishment will come to mind. “You think you can beat me?”

Seokmin laughs. “So cocky.” He taps the controller that’s still in Seungkwan’s hands. “Random song?”

“Five,” Seungkwan says, just to be contrary. He inputs 0005, and the familiar track of Yang Da-il’s “She Didn’t Love Me” filters through the speakers, and this must be rigged—there’s no way he just happened to choose one of Seokmin’s favorite songs.

Seokmin grins, although it’s edging on the border of a smirk. “Guess I’m lucky,” he says impishly, posing himself right in front of the screen.

Hearing Seokmin sing seriously is always a delight, and even though this basically spells his loss in terms of their competition, Seungkwan sits back and takes in the show. Seokmin’s put his full soul into the song, voice gentle and lilting. 

“I keep thinking about how you looked at me and spoke of love.” His eyes catch Seungkwan’s, and it’s like Seungkwan’s trapped, unable to look away. “My heart misses it, but knows we can no longer be—”

Of course Seungkwan gets to watch Seokmin sing a depressing ballad about losing love while drowning in his own emotions. When the song ends, a bold "96" popping up on the screen after the credits, he’s anything but surprised.

“3733,” Seokmin says after gulping down a quick swig of water.

Seungkwan obediently inputs the numbers and is even more unsurprised when he hears something delightfully 70s start blaring. Of course this is his luck, he wouldn’t have expected anything else.

“Good luck.” Seokmin laughs, clapping his hands at Seungkwan’s misfortune. Seokmin knows he has this contest essentially won, and he does nothing to hide that fact, already sprawled out on the couch like a victorious king.

Seungkwan doesn’t know the words or the tune and ends up with a solid passing score of 68, which, while better than he predicted, is still a loss. He turns to Seokmin expectantly. “And your request?”

Seokmin grins, sunny and bright as usual. “Kiss me.”

Seungkwan freezes, lungs as heavy as lead in his chest. “I—excuse me?”

Seokmin’s smile turns lazy, almost a little sleazy in the dim lighting. “You heard me, I want a kiss from my cute, precious dongsaeng.” He puckers his lips enough to resemble a fish more than a human.

“You’re so—” Of course Seokmin’s just teasing. For a second, Seungkwan had almost thought—but there’s no way, so he scoffs and rolls his eyes and runs through all the reluctant facial expressions he can as he leans in and kisses Seokmin on the cheek, ignoring the way his blush burns his face.

When he pulls away, Seokmin still has that stupid grin on his face as he murmurs, “You’re cute,” reaching out a hand to ruffle Seungkwan’s hair before sliding it down to touch Seungkwan’s cheek. His eyes drop to Seungkwan’s lips, and his face is moving closer, and if Seungkwan didn’t know better—

Seokmin’s dating Soonyoung, and there’s absolutely no way he’s about to kiss Seungkwan right now.

Seungkwan scrambles back, falling out of range of Seokmin’s hands and wielding the controller like a makeshift shield. “I think we only have a few more songs left.”

Seokmin hums, settling back into his seat. “Right,” he agrees. “Your turn to pick.”

The next ten minutes pass in strained tension, with Seungkwan exaggerating all of his reactions and Seokmin eyeing him speculatively the whole time. Seungkwan’s managed to forget schoolwork, but he finds himself worrying over something even more nerve-wracking.

-

Seungkwan tells himself he’s not avoiding spending time alone with Seokmin after that, but he does carefully ensure that Soonyoung’s with them on most occasions. Seokmin’s still overly touchy—Soonyoung is, too, if Seungkwan really thinks about it—but he hasn’t looked like he’s wanted to kiss Seungkwan again or do anything else indecent, at least.

At the moment, he’s over at Seokmin and Soonyoung’s apartment, sprawled out on their couch while trying to read the densest economic textbook to exist. He scans the same paragraph for the fourth time before giving up, letting out a loud groan as he lets the book fall on his face.

His legs are in Seokmin’s lap, and Seokmin has his laptop balanced on top of Seungkwan’s knees. “There, there,” Seokmin says absently, patting Seungkwan lightly on the ankle. “I told you textbooks were useless.”

“Well, so are my professors,” Seungkwan grouses. He shifts slightly, and Seokmin makes a displeased noise when his laptop stand moves. “I can’t believe we have a quiz on Valentine’s day.”

“Oh no, the woes of a poor business major,” Soonyoung says. “The administration ensures you have no classes on Friday, but have the audacity to schedule a quiz on Valentine’s, a weekday.”

Seungkwan peeks out from under his textbook to scowl at Soonyoung, but Seokmin intercepts the argument easily, asking, “Does Hansol have plans for Valentine’s?”

Seungkwan sighs, letting the textbook drop to the floor as he throws an arm over his face. “He wants the apartment to himself, he has a special surprise planned for Chan or something.”

He sees Seokmin and Soonyoung exchange glances and quickly waves a hand. “I’m not jealous or bitter. Just, not sure where I’ll stay, or super enthused to be kicked out of my own apartment.”

Soonyoung leans over the back of the couch to smile down at Seungkwan. “Stay over at ours, then.”

Seungkwan frowns. “Don’t you guys have plans?”

“We're saving those for the weekend,” Soonyoung says. “You can make us dinner, it’ll be fun.”

“Right, fun,” Seungkwan repeats dryly. “I see I’ll have to pay for my stay.”

“Of course, and you better make it extra romantic,” Seokmin adds. “I expect candles and flowers, wine and chocolate.”

Seungkwan snorts. “You’ll be lucky to get instant ramyun if you don’t stop making requests.”

Soonyoung bats his eyelashes. “I would be perfectly happy eating instant ramyun made with your love.”

Seungkwan’s not blushing when he shoves Soonyoung’s head out of his space, uncaring when Seokmin makes another whiny noise about his laptop moving.

-

Contrary to whatever his friends like to say, Seungkwan can cook. He’s not perfect housewife material like Mingyu, but he can feed himself without burning down his apartment or spending his life savings on takeout. And he’s happy enough to use those skills if it means avoiding the disgustingly lovey-dovey mess Hansol and Chan are most likely making in his apartment right now. At least Seokmin and Soonyoung are kind enough to cover the costs of the ingredients, which is why they’re currently at the grocery store, pretending they know how to inspect produce.

“You have to knock them,” Seokmin insists. “That’s how you tell if they’re ripe.”

Seungkwan sighs. “That’s definitely for watermelons,” he says. “We’re buying tomatoes.”

“They’re both fruits,” Seokmin says, picking up one of the tomatoes and tapping it softly. He frowns. “Okay, maybe you have to squeeze them?”

Seungkwan immediately snatches away the tomato, placing it back among the twenty other identical ones in the display. “No, we’re just going to pick the reddest one.”

“Like that’s more scientific,” Seokmin says. They both stop and look when Soonyoung zooms by to drop an armful of meat into their cart before running off again.

Seungkwan blinks. “Did he just—”

Seokmin frowns down at their cart. “You know I don’t like lamb!” he calls after Soonyoung. “Get more beef!”

“He just dropped twenty cans of Spam into our cart,” Seungkwan says, not sure if he’s living through some terrible delusion.

“Soonyoung does like his Spam,” Seokmin says wisely, helping Seungkwan stack the cans into orderly columns. “But yeah, we should probably put most of these back.”

Seungkwan suddenly feels someone jump onto his back, and he nearly collapses under the weight. “Fuck, what—”

“Let’s just have hot pot,” Soonyoung yells right into Seungkwan’s ear, clinging onto him like a barnacle. “Meat’s on sale right now.”

Seokmin immediately tosses the tomatoes in their cart back into the display. “Meat,” he says like a zombie. “We must gather more.” Soonyoung hops off Seungkwan’s back, and both he and Seokmin rush off towards the frozen foods section.

“Half the stuff you threw into the cart is Spam!” Seungkwan yells after them, but he sighs and gives up on the idea of a regular dinner. Hot pot does sound nice, and he’s not the one fronting the cost, so he picks up some napa cabbage and a giant bunch of chrysanthemum greens to add to the green onions in the cart—because he’s not a monster and requires at least some vegetables to feel slightly healthy—before following after his friends.

By the time he catches up, Seokmin’s already balancing a precarious stack of styrofoam slabs while Soonyoung proceeds to add more with every passing second.

“Guys,” he says warily. “We definitely can’t eat that much.”

Soonyoung swivels around to look at Seungkwan, a dangerous smile on his face. “Is that a dare?”

“No,” Seungkwan immediately says. “Absolutely not—”

He’s too late, though, as Soonyoung exclaims, “Whoever eats the most wins a prize!” Seokmin cheers as he dumps their haul into their cart, while Soonyoung hooks an arm around Seungkwan’s, resting his head against Seungkwan’s shoulder. “Wow, Seungkwan, you always have the best ideas.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Seungkwan protests, but he’s already resigned to his fate when Seokmin slides over to his other side to lean on him as well. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge, after all. “But just know you’re both going to lose.”

Soonyoung scoffs. “I’ll have you know I skipped lunch,” he says with fake seriousness. “Neither of you stand a chance.”

Seokmin laughs, as comfortable as a warm blanket around Seungkwan’s shoulders. “Amateur move, I skipped breakfast and lunch.”

“Well, I haven’t eaten since last night!” Soonyoung argues back.

Seungkwan sighs and lets himself be pulled through the supermarket while Soonyoung and Seokmin continue to try and one-up each other with increasingly outrageous claims. It’s almost—dare he say it—domestic, grocery shopping and planning out meals and all the other frivolities that come with living together.

-

Soonyoung hadn’t been joking when he said that he’d skipped lunch, practically inhaling a mountain’s worth of meat on his own. Seokmin spends most of his time poking Soonyoung’s cheeks, teasing him about looking like a hamster while slowly eating through his own share of their meal.

They still end up with a significant amount of meat left over, which gets packed into the little freezer space Seokmin and Soonyoung have. Soonyoung demands a ceremony celebrating his victory, which Seokmin and Seungkwan both roll their eyes at even as they acquiesce. They rummage up an old birthday crown from years past and settle it on Soonyoung’s head, as he haughtily raises his chin.

“For my prize,” Soonyoung says, doing his best imitation of an announcer, “I request Seungkwan to perform a sexy dance with no music.”

Seungkwan pales while Seokmin keels over with laughter, loud enough to drown out the horror clouding his brain. “I hate you,” he says, feeling his ears already start to burn up. “Why not Seokmin?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m used to seeing Seokmin try and be sexy.” He slouches back in his chair, gesturing at the space in front of him like he expects Seungkwan to give him a lap dance. “Now please, my request.”

“Fine,” Seungkwan grits out, stepping into place. His aim is to give Soonyoung the most dead-eyed, bare-minimum dance, but he hasn’t even taken a step when Soonyoung hooks a leg around Seungkwan’s and sends him stumbling into Soonyoung’s lap.

“Clumsy,” Soonyoung says, not looking troubled at all while Seungkwan frantically squirms to push himself upright. By the time he’s standing again, Soonyoung looks even more smug. “I’m still waiting.”

Seungkwan’s closer now, almost touching Soonyoung, but he refuses to show how much that bothers him, pushing through the moves of several girl group songs while Seokmin rolls around on the floor in tears. He’s a third of the way through the point dance of Son Dambi’s “Crazy” when Soonyoung finally breaks down into laughter as well.

“How was that supposed to be sexy?” Seokmin pants out between giggles, clutching his stomach. “I think I broke a rib.”

“You’re both the worst,” Seungkwan says, trying to be angry, but he ends up laughing as well. He falls back into his own chair, covering his eyes. “We’re never talking about this again.”

-

Seokmin and Soonyoung have been holding hands for the past two hours, have been staring adoringly at each other, so over-the-top in love that Seungkwan regrets agreeing to stay over. They’re almost done watching the first episode of some anime Soonyoung insists is a masterpiece, but none of them have really been paying attention, with Seokmin and Soonyoung spending most of their time making out on the couch while Seungkwan alternates between watching them make out and drinking away his feelings.

Usually, he’d be perfectly fine with this situation—lord knows he has plenty of experience playing the perpetual third wheel. Tonight, though, he’s tired. Tired and three-quarters of a bottle of wine in and still not drunk enough. These past few days in particular have been especially difficult, forcing himself to accept that he’ll never have a chance with either of his best friends when all his brain wants to do is hope. Fucking Valentine's day.

“Are you guys done sucking face?” he asks grumpily, frowning at the credits rolling across the screen. He can already tell everyone in this anime is getting a happy ending. Assholes.

Seungkwan sees Seokmin and Soonyoung glance at each other before turning to him as one unit. He knows what will happen next—one of them will say something about how he’ll find love, and the other will tell him Hansol isn’t the end of the world, and they’ll coddle and comfort him like he’s a child having a temper tantrum—and his regrets are just piling up higher and higher by the second.

“Seungkwan,” Seokmin says gently. “What’s wrong?”

He curls in on himself, bringing his legs up and hugging them close to his chest. “Nothing,” he says, burrowing his face in his knees and willing himself not to cry. “Just tired.”

“Is this about Hansol?” Soonyoung asks. “I know you said you didn’t care, but—”

“It’s not Hansol.” He's sick of playing that same card over and over again. “It hasn’t been about Hansol for a long time.”

There’s a beat of silence, which Seungkwan uses to reflect on all of the terrible decisions he’s made that have culminated into this last tremendous disaster, until he hears shuffling in the background. Both of his friends have stood up from the couch and walked the few feet over to his armchair.

“Who is it, then?” Seokmin asks. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us.”

He sniffles, raising his hands to press his palms against his eyes. “I can’t,” he says weakly. “Forget it.”

“Seungkwan,” Soonyoung says softly, wrapping his arms around Seungkwan’s shoulders. “No secrets, remember?”

“I know,” Seungkwan says. It’s been one of their rules since elementary school, when Soonyoung had caught the flu and went radio silent for days, bedridden and feverish while Seokmin and Seungkwan had worried over his absence in school. His eyes are feeling sore from how hard he’s pressing against them with his hands, but he can’t cry right now, it would mean the end for everything. “It’s nothing, I’m just being overemotional.”

Seokmin kneels in front of Seungkwan, hands resting on Seungkwan’s shins. “You know we’ll love you, right? No matter what.”

Fucking Seokmin. He lets outs a pained sob, knows he’s lost when he feels the first few tears wet his fingers. “That’s the problem,” he says, voice shaky. “I love you both. Too much.”

“You love us too much?” Seokmin asks, still soft and gentle, like he’s afraid he’ll scare Seungkwan away. Too late for that, Seungkwan thinks, he’s already as good as caught. Seokmin’s hands rise up to his knees, fingers drawing slow circles in the skin there. “Seungkwan—”

“I’m in love with you both,” Seungkwan blurts out, figuring he’s already gone too far to walk anything back. They'll eventually badger the truth out of him somehow. There’s no stopping the tears now, too tired to try and stave them off while he stands on the precipice of losing his two best friends forever. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh Kwannie,” Soonyoung says. “Don’t be.” Soonyoung nudges Seungkwan to face him, and his eyes are kind, wide and serious when he leans in and kisses Seungkwan.

Wait, he’s—he’s being kissed?

Seungkwan whips his head away, nearly whacking Soonyoung in the process, frantically asking, “What are you doing?”

“I was kissing you,” Soonyoung grouses. “Until you stopped.”

“But—” Seungkwan swings around to point at Seokmin. “You and Seokmin—”

Seokmin is much closer than Seungkwan remembers. “Yes?” he asks with a smile, eyes focused on Seungkwan’s lips, and Seungkwan must be drunker than he thought because the only explanation for this is if he’s passed out and dreaming.

“But you two are dating,” Seungkwan finishes dumbly, but at least he’s no longer crying, his tear ducts as stunned as the rest of him. “And—and I’m not a homewrecker.”

“We are dating,” Seokmin says, slowly closing the distance between them with every word. “You’re not a homewrecker.”

“But,” Seungkwan says, not sure how he wants to finish this sentence, mostly trying to stall. “But—”

“Stop talking,” Seokmin says gently, forehead touching Seungkwan’s. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Seungkwan gulps, mouth dry and air bobbing down his throat. “Okay.”

He doesn’t pull away from the kiss this time, lets Seokmin press their lips together, soft and warm and perfect. Soonyoung’s fingers are running through Seungkwan’s hair, soothing and comforting, while Seokmin shifts forward, hands pushing Seungkwan’s legs down so he can kneel on the seat, knees bracketing Seungkwan’s thighs.

“When have we ever left you out of anything?” Seokmin murmurs, voice barely loud enough for Seungkwan to hear, pitched low enough to make Seungkwan’s stomach curl. He sits back, running a thumb along Seungkwan’s cheek, his touch burning into Seungkwan’s skin.

“Kwannie,” Soonyoung says, tender and sincere in a way Seungkwan sees so rarely—only when Soonyoung truly cares. He turns to face Soonyoung, who kisses him again, briefly, before drawing back again. “We love you, too.”

The tears he thought had stopped start right up again, prickling at the corners of his eyes. “You both suck,” he says, not meaning his words at all, half of him still believing that this is all a dream. “Why would you—”

“We thought you were hung up on Hansol,” Seokmin says, hand warm against Seungkwan’s neck. “We never thought it could be us.”

“It was always—” Seungkwan says, hiccupping as he tries to swallow down a sob. “Always you guys.”

“Oh Kwannie, please don’t cry,” Soonyoung says. “Or Seokmin’s also going to cry, and I’d really rather spend our first Valentine’s Day doing something different.”

“Shut up,” Seokmin says, but his voice definitely sounds wobbly, and his eyes are starting to mist up. “Don’t ruin this moment.”

Seungkwan laughs a little at that, a weird choking giggle that sounds a lot like death. “It was already ruined once I started crying.” He raises his arms, cupping Seokmin's cheek with one hand and Soonyoung’s with the other. “You don’t get to take this back.”

Soonyoung says, easy and bright, “It’s a promise.” Then he smirks, daring and reckless as he suddenly punches the air next to them. “Boo,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Seok,” Seokmin says, shooting Seungkwan an encouraging smile as his own fist joins Soonyoung’s in the air.

“Soon,” he finishes, muddled and unclear, tears still blurring his vision even when he raises his fist as well.

“Unite!” they say together, perfectly on beat.

-

Here’s how Seungkwan’s life actually goes: he falls in love with his best friends, he agonizes over this love for years and tries to move on, they sit him down and force him to tell them the truth, he realizes his love isn’t a pipe dream, they live happily ever after.