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Hyungwon likes to think he’s enjoying college.
Enjoy is...certainly the right word for it.
The dorms are quiet - relatively, maybe a party or a community get-together every week or so. The people are nice - also generally speaking. Hyungwon hasn’t exactly made an effort to “put himself out there.” Between classes and dorms, the occasional “hi”s and “hello”s, there’s not much he gets out of his fellow residents. But it’s nice - they’re nice, he supposes. Hyungwon wouldn’t mind talking to them more, if and when he can fumble his way into a conversation.
His roommate is - agreeable. They don’t talk much either, and the younger boy is too often in and out of the room before Hyungwon can even try and ask him how his day went. And when he says they don’t talk much - maybe he means not at all. It also means Changkyun doesn’t share anything about himself or his mysterious, mysterious life.
Still, Hyungwon likes to take those opportunities to hone his very sharp reasoning skills. He’s read enough young adult novels to conjecture that Changkyun’s one of those students, the ones that spring onto campus as a fully formed college student, an all merits earned scholarship clutched in one hand, and the other clenched in a very determined fist. The blunt-but-loving roommate who turns out, always has a heart of gold under all those heavy scarves. Which means - he, Hyungwon, must be the main character, the passive bland archetype in need of some well-written development.
It’s an obvious plot-line, and Hyungwon credits most of it to his self-taught deductive skills. Case Closed was in fact an educational show.
Maybe he and Changkyun need to have some moments of bonding, progress the story through a constructed conflict or two. Show the readers how awkward and amazing and absolutely made for each other they are. A party where they get stone-cold drunk and confess their respective crushes to each other. Then, they take turns carrying each other back to the dorm, and Changkyun can pretend like it never happened the next morning. Still, when Hyungwon inevitably passes him a cup of perfectly brewed coffee, just the way he likes it, and aspirin, he’ll do that thing where he blushes a little and looks away all angry. And scene: part 1 of character development.
But then again - Changkyun doesn’t seem to be the guy who goes for that kind of typical plotline. His only enthusiasm is a dead-eyed passion for higher education, beaten in by months of organic chemistry. His fervor for self-torture is more than a little awe-inspiring, and admirable to say the least.
Besides, Hyungwon doesn’t even have a crush to confess of yet. Maybe he should work on that part of his background story first.
Otherwise, yeah, they get along pretty well. Sometimes Changkyun likes to give him these odd looks, a paragon of silent judgment if Hyungwon has seen anything so far. His rigid air of mystery and vague awkwardness doesn’t make him the easiest read.
But Hyungwon likes to think they’ll be good, no the best, of friends one day.
-
Today, marking down the calendar towards a fast-approaching Halloween, Hyungwon scribbles down a shaky blood-red heart for his one-true-crush.
And yes, it’s decided as of 20 minutes ago.
Yoo Kihyun. RA of his local building. Two years older than Hyungwon. Also, resident hard-ass of the entire campus - allegedly. But he did report a student for misconduct when he was wandering around with no shoes on, even though the poor kid was just getting his laundry - again, only allegedly.
But he has pink hair, a really nice pastel cotton candy shade of pink that somehow, he looks good in. The top half of it catches the light in improbably artistic ways, frozen over with an iridescent sheen, just like the edge of the sky before dawn.
Also, he smiles at Hyungwon everyday. Hyungwon has only noticed now, but it’s a handsome smile - the kind that crinkles at the corners, the broad kind that pulls, instinctive, at your own cheeks. He has very nice lips, Hyungwons thinks. It makes him want to ask what brand of toothpaste Kihyun uses - and if he maybe also uses a bit of lip-gloss on the side.
So Hyungwon, as young teenage protagonists do, has declared illogical infatuation at first sight. Well - maybe not infatuation, or even love at first sight really. More so nervous excitement every single time they pass each other in the halls and Hyungwon forgets to meet his eyes because he’s looking at his smile instead -
But at least, in the very rare case that Changkyun ever asks, he can pretend to be shy and coy until his roommate “forces” the information out of him, after which they must then engage in a matchmaking scheme. Game, set, and match - the story will write itself out from there.
Hyungwon allows himself a little grin, hums a bit of that new song on the radio, and he circles Wednesday the 31st in bright, bold, exciting red.
-
So the rumored Halloween party is apparently, a campus-wide event.
Hyungwon doesn’t mind. He simply wasn’t informed of this development beforehand.
Crowd or no, he’s determined to accelerate the course of his story onto a steady track - and that requires the quintessential college banger. It just means he’ll have to make a harder effort to find his wonderful, handsome, candy-haired crush among the entire drunken student body.
No, the problem now lies with something else entirely.
Hyungwon doesn’t know what to wear yet.
He turns to his closet again, tilting his head this way and that. He walks to the left side, then to the right, dragging his feet across the floor with each step. Changkyun glances up from his textbook for the fifth time, and ducks back down, the shadow of a glower straining his brow.
Hyungwon slumps, smashing his face into the edge of a hanger, and sighs - very audibly, extremely loudly.
Changkyun responds in turn by slamming his big expensive chemistry textbook shut with much aplomb.
“Do you need help.” The younger man raises a pointed brow. He’s really not asking at this point - Hyungwon flinches only slightly under his stare.
“Um, yes please.” He digs himself out of his tomb of wispy shirts and torn jeans and stumbles towards Changkyun with what he hopes is an appeasing expression.
Instead, his roommate barrels past him and slips straight into the closet. The sweaters rustle for a moment, rippling at the surface, before everything stills. Like the waters of a deep, black ocean, Hyungwon’s clothes seemingly envelop Changkyun whole, without a single sound, without hesitation.
Hyungwon doesn’t dare move, not even to enter his own closet.
There’s a tell-tale murmur every so often, but there is no sign of a Changkyun-sized shape emerging from the depths.
Hyungwon stares again. He’s been in there for an awfully long time - maybe he should consider calling the campus police at this point.
Or even better, he should ask his RA for help.
Just in time, Changkyun emerges from the shadowed cocoon, clothes draped over one arm, disgruntled and ruffled from his impromptu adventure. Hyungwon’s terrible, impulsive idea is fortunately set aside.
“No ‘coming out of the closet’ jokes,” he grouses, dropping into his chair with a low sigh. He slouches, a world-weary scholar turning his back to the whims of man - or at least, Hyungwon’s indecisiveness.
Hyungwon’s closet must be deeper than he thought.
“It’s okay, I’m very gay,” he replies, sure of himself. After all, roommates either bond over cartoons, being gay - or possibly, gay cartoons.
Changkyun’s pauses to send him a flat stare, as if to say good for you, and hands over the clothes without another word. Hyungwon’s confidence deflates a bit.
Their hands brush under the pile of ripped, bleached fabric, and Changkyun sends him what could be a tentative smile. His lips perk at the corners and a tiny dimple dips into his right cheek.
Hyungwon returns the smile with what he hopes is his widest, most enthusiastic grin. Changkyun’s little dimple fades, and the younger man adopts an expression akin to a confused grimace. Still, the hand-off of clothes is successfully completed, and Changkyun turns back to his studies with a quiet wave of acknowledgment.
In the end, Hyungwon counts that one as a success.
-
Hyungwon could very well be, no he is, most definitely in love with Im Changkyun. The outfit he picked out - a nice long shirt that shows off the open expanse of his collarbones, black jeans slashed across the knees - is something Hyungwon was perfectly capable of putting together himself and is therefore also, absolutely perfect.
He’s in love; in a platonic way of course - a very gay, platonic way.
He frowns at his reflection, and his reflection frowns back. Is that possible? they both seem to ask each other, confused in the same sleepy manner.
Hyungwon thinks about the shadow of Changkyun’s tiny dimple, how cute it would be to poke it. Then he considers Kihyun’s cherry-blossom hair, and his shiny, shiny lips, and his refreshingly handsome smile - and yeah, Hyungwon is really gay for him.
He nods at himself, and the man in the mirror bobs his head in return, resolute. Yeah, this outfit makes him look good. It’s the kind of thing he could see himself dancing in, no matter how awkward the moves.
A quick knock pulls him out of his potential dance routine, and he opens the door to a hoodie-clad Changkyun, six black lines streaked across his cheeks, and a pair of cat ears perched atop his head.
“We’re going as cats,” Changkyun announces - there is no room for argument. Hyungwon stares back, dumb, and Changkyun takes his silence as an easy yes.
Hyungwon gets two white ears slapped onto his head, rough eyeliner slashed across his cheeks, and allows himself to be dragged out the door.
Changkyun’s hand stays clasped around his own, and Hyungwon thinks of it as a small mercy.
-
Halloween parties on a college campus are what Hyungwon imagines to be the devil’s heaven on earth.
They’re loud, uncomfortable, hot, and filled with people bursting with the need to drink their body weight in the form of tiny red shot cups. It’s also an opportunity for “slutty” versions of all manners of creatures - minions, pokemon, princesses - it’s an anything goes kind of night. Changkyun points out a dancing penis on their way there, and Hyungwon reaches down to cover his eyes. The younger man’s laugh mingles, pleasant and warm, into the pounding heat of the crowd.
Hyungwon, like the devil - but only in this aspect - can take some kind of small enjoyment in it.
The grass gives way, plush, underfoot. The earth is soft with some kind of midnight dew, and sweeping past the curtain of pubescent sweat and stale beer, there’s a surprising freshness lingering in the air.
To Hyungwon, it smells like the promise of magic.
And boy, is he ready to make some magic happen tonight.
Well not that kind, he scolds himself, embarrassed at his own boldness - just the potential for some old-fashioned romance maybe.
And that’s a hard maybe.
At least, he decides, gaze drawn to Changkyun’s fingers still locked around his own, they can now become the best of friends.
Changkyun glances up at him and nods in silent solidarity. Hyungwon doubts the younger man is agreeing with his inner monologue, but the sentiment is appreciated. That’s a third point for him.
A loud howl sounds from the approaching distance, and the crowd surges in response. Eager bodies streak past, and Changkyun tightens his grip, dragging Hyungwon without pause into the wild cesspool. Another baying call soars above the rest of the noise, zero percent wolf and one-hundred percent drunken college kid - the night is well under-way.
“Come on,” Changkyun turns, and the light of twin moons glimmers within his eyes. “I’ll introduce you to my boyfriend.”
-
“Hyung, this is Jooheon.” Changkyun worms an arm into the crowd and somehow pinpoints the sleeve of a single person raving with the rest of the writhing mass of bodies. He drags him out with surprising ruthlessness and loops their arms together, tight. “My boyfriend.”
“Oh-” the boy stops, catching his breath with a short exclamation. Hyungwon is still processing the shock of Changkyun having a secret boyfriend (without telling him, no less) that when Jooheon turns to him, a smile spreading across his face, it renders him speechless.
“Hi, nice to meet you!” A pair of sparkling, styrofoam yellow balls bounce around his head with every word. Changkyun nods, solemn, his own cat ears bobbing over his bangs.
Hyungwon feels an extreme need to cover his eyes. God, he’s got two dimples - and they’re so deep if he poked them, his finger would never come out intact. And his smile - wow. It makes his cheeks bunch up towards his eyes, and then his eyes turn into these little slits -
Yeah, Hyungwon has a thing for really nice smiles.
And speaking of, Kihyun has a nice smile - arguably the nicest. No dimples to speak of, but his eyes turn into tiny black dashes too, and he opens his mouth so wide deep laugh lines form all the way from the side of his nose down towards his chin - it’s really the only one out there for him.
Changkyun coughs, and Hyungwon is brought to attention of the awkward situation he’s created. He looks to Changkyun’s pointed stare, then at Jooheon’s wobbling hand, paused, unsure, between them.
“Sorry-” he pastes on his best Kihyun-emulated grin, “it’s nice to meet you too!”
It’s too bad - there go his dreams of whispering, wide-eyed, about crushes as they breeze past in the lunch line, about staying up late and making grand wishes and promises on passing stars, of confiding in each other the most valuable and silly of secrets. Then, Jooheon beams back, and all of Hyungwon’s imaginary scenarios are forgotten, sucked straight into the mysterious black hole of his dimples.
“- And I’m feelin’ myself-”
“feelin’ myself - BACK OFF -”
The crowd screams, and the three of them turn towards the sudden introduction of Nicki Minaj. Somehow, a makeshift karaoke pit has gathered, and they drift into the inner circle, possessed by a sense of morbid curiosity, and for Hyungwon - a strange feeling of precognition.
“Oh wow,” Jooheon comments, awfully cheery at this time of night, in this kind of setting. “Hyung is really going for it.”
And he is. Kihyun is currently mastering the art of rap as they speak. Hyungwon is so stuck to the scene playing out before him - he can’t allow himself a single blink.
Because there he is, the dorm’s stricter than strict residential hard-ass, Mass on Sundays, study circle on Saturdays, expelling the most sex-fueled, unapologetically explicit lyrics Hyungwon’s shy, rap-virgin ears have been exposed to in a long time. He’s also wearing a ripped leather jacket that looks decidedly against uniform regulations - and it’s all too perfect on him.
He’s doing so well too - even the cords of his neck are strained with genuine effort. Hyungwon always knew he could sing high, but never like this. There’s real, hard spit hitting that shitty mic, and the way he’s ramming his hips through the air - it could put a stripper to shame. He’s lacking a few of Nicki’s distinct curves, but the imitation is immediately effective. It does things to Hyungwon’s heart.
“Heard he thinks about me when he whacks off - Whacks on? Wax off.”
The freshmen lose their minds with a collective screech. The upperclassmen cheer him on with rabid, beer-induced rage. Hyungwon clutches at his invisible pearls and also grabs at Changkyun’s very steady, very solid shoulder. The younger man shifts in place, but he doesn’t push him away.
Then, the inevitable happens. They make eye contact. At the worst possible moment.
Hyungwon is so distracted by how bright Kihyun’s eyes shine, how his cheeks glisten, exhilarating, pink and alive, that he forgets the contents of the next line.
“National anthem hats off, then I curve that n-”
Uproar. Havoc. Hell on earth. The ground seems to tremble underfoot, discarded red cups turning circles on their own - the devil laughing at them from the seat of his fiery throne. Hyungwon digs his nails into Changkyun’s hoodie, and Jooheon releases a strangled squeak from the depths of his own rapper’s pride
It’s an amateur’s move, a terrible, deadly faux pas.
Despite it all, Hyungwon’s heart jumps to a painful crescendo, so full it’s pounding, brushing against the spaces of his ribcage - it’s not just a simple crush; he’s suddenly, inexplicably, and wonderfully in love.
Amidst the sudden chaos, they nab Kihyun’s indignant, swaying figure from the stage and run.
-
Hyungwon’s post-Halloween party morning begins with a headache.
No, he didn’t drink - but there is a dry lump of beer-taste lingering in his throat. Weird, he decides, coughing away the last of it as he stumbles into the kitchen.
Changkyun ducks up, greeting him from the lone table. A trail of black mascara remains smeared beneath the right side of his chin, and the rising steam from his coffee only melts it down further. He looks all tuckered out with his hair sticking up in bits above his forehead, and adorably so.
Hyungwon pulls out the chair in front him and collapses onto the table. A strange ache stings along his back, pulsing like an urgent reminder before fading away into a dull itch. He meets Changkyun’s eyes, the both of them bloodshot to hell, and that uncanny sense of precognition begins winding its way around his spine again. “So,” he ventures, hesitant to ask, “did anything happen?”
Changkyun tilts his head back, throat working around a scalding sip of coffee. “Sure,” he comments, still looking towards the light of the open window. It’s not much of a reply - but Hyungwon has a terrible, terrible feeling there’s about to be more.
“I mean you did piggyback Kihyun hyung around the crowd all night.” Changkyun swallows down another bitter mouthful. He gives Hyungwon a prolonged stare, a look full of unspoken judgment. “You seemed to be enjoying it though.”
Hyungwon chokes.
“Also, you took like, one shot.”
Hyungwon bangs his head against the table. He must never look his roommate in the eye ever again - or Kihyun for that matter.
A hard knock sounds from the entrance, determined to interrupt his internal despair.
And speaking of last night’s devil - there he is, materialized against the doorway with a sharp hip cocked out to the side. In the light of the new day, the shadows under his eyes glisten like fresh, ripe bruises. Sparks of dust dance, a magician’s spell cast at the ends of his hair, and the corner of his mouth is already creased in a half-grin.
To Hyungwon, with his body shimmering around the edges, every inch of him bathed in a pink halo - Kihyun looks like a tired angel come home to roost.
“You-” he strides forward, stopping right in front of Hyungwon. For once, the taller man is forced to look up. Kihyun looms above him, unblinking, unreadable. His mouth is pressed into a fine line, his cheeks tight, almost bulging outwards with a silent weight.
Then, two short hands haul him up by the collar, and they’re eye to eye, nose to nose - almost lip to lip.
Kihyun’s brown eyes are dotted with amber stars up close. His lashes brush flecks of gold over his cheeks, and Hyungwon swears he can feel the whisper of them against his own.
“Date me.”
It’s the barest of confessions - but over the roaring pulse of blood through his ears, Hyungwon hears it clearer than the tolling of any church bell. He’s read so many romance novels, re-read so many of the same dramatic climaxes, he knows exactly what to say. It’s just too bad he can’t get his damned mouth open in time. The words are there, his tongue is fully operational - but the conception of what should be his voice remains stuck in Hyungwon’s head.
So he stares and stares - until he goes cross-eyed, until Kihyun is a kaleidoscope of many refracted pink, beautiful blurs.
Kihyun’s tiny bow mouth crumples, and he scrunches his eyes together in a pained frown. Hyungwon is dumped onto the floor without further explanation, tailbone smarting a second time. A small blur streaks out of the room at breakneck pace, leaving only a trail of angry echoing stomps.
“What did I do?” Hyungwon asks, more to the silent room than anyone else.
“You told him he had a great voice,” Changkyun pipes up from the back. “Also, that you were in love with his handsome, very nice smile - and that you were, kind of, in love with him as a general...thing.” He makes an all-encompassing gesture with his hands in the air. A splash of coffee lands on his sleeve, and the younger man resumes his automatic scowl.
“Oh wow.” Hyungwon winces.
“Yeah, wow,” Changkyun imitates, monotone, scrubbing at the new stain.
“Should I, uh, go after him?” Hyungwon regrets asking the moment the words leave his mouth.
Changkyun stares down at him, sprawled across the stained kitchen floor, and takes a slow sip of coffee. Then he takes another sip and gargles it around in his mouth - without breaking a moment of eye contact. His blank stare screams of eons of pained confusion and inescapable suffering.
Hyungwon is suitably perplexed and simultaneously scared out of his mind.
“Right, I’ll go.” He picks himself up and sprints to the door without another backward glance.
-
Surprise, he finds Kihyun ducked behind the pews of the campus church. He’s doing a pretty good job of folding himself into a formless ball, but it’s the pink hair that gives him away.
Hyungwon slips onto the floor beside him, and Kihyun continues to stare at the wall. It’s not too bad; Hyungwon can admire the back of his pink head as he makes his own confession.
“You know, I think Changkyun might be my best friend.” His voice echoes out into the chapel, big and scary, loud then soft. The sounds warble along the arched beams and fade away as waves of distorted gibberish.
“He told me to come after you. Also, that I said some -” he struggles to find the best, least embarrassing word, “things.” It’s the only noun his struggling mind can conjure up out of the fog of romantic words.
Kihyun shifts into a tighter ball. Hyungwon, inconspicuously, inches closer.
He lets his eyes follow the broken, shimmering lines of glass mosaics, trails them over the straight-backed blocks of pews. In the end, he just ends up on the back of Kihyun’s soft pink head again. This time, he lets his thoughts roll freely off his tongue.
“They’re all true though - with your voice, you could be a choir boy, or - or an angel.” The halls of the church echo, in prayer, in praise, and the light fractures in an improbably perfect way through the wide open windows. Once he starts, it seems impossible for him to ever stop again.
“Maybe you could be a rap-star too, you’re really good at that, and with your pink hair - it’d be so cute. You’re really cute, like your hair, your smile - sorry, I just, your smile is too handsome and it does terrible things to me and I’m sure I already said that I was in love with you yesterday-”
Kihyun whips around with a half-rabid look in his eyes. Hyungwon almost falls over from the solid laser-point intensity of his glare.
The other boy inches over in his still curled up ball. Hyungwon debates crawling away like a crab. Still, excitement spikes, jumping like hot popcorn, each kernel pop-pop-popping open at the bottom of his stomach.
Kihyun stops, the tips of his shoes poking against Hyungwon’s bare ankles. His lips close in a light pout, sullen and already demanding more. Then, he leans in close, closer, even closer, and growls: “Just kiss me already - dumbass.”
So Hyungwon does. And like all the first kisses he’s read about in his wonderful teen novels - it’s a fumbling mess of teeth and tongue and spit, but Kihyun’s mouth tastes like cherry lip-gloss and warmth - and everything is absolutely perfect.