Chapter Text
Waking up is hard.
It’s a general statement, but on that morning it rings especially true for Han Seungwoo. His alarm blares all the same - one of his favorite hip-hop songs. The grating sound of bumping bass drills into his ears like construction machinery. His entire face scrunches, and he paws in the general direction of his phone.
“Thud!”
Great . He thinks. Sluggishly, he slings his legs over the edge of the bed. The vague ghost of an ache whispers across his limbs. Did I sleep weird? He shrugs away the idle thought, swiping his foot across the floor to find his phone. Upon retrieving it, he finally silences the damn thing and stands up to get started with his day.
“Whoa,” Seungwoo mutters as his body wavers. Suddenly, a rush surges to his head. Everything is blurry, and his vision swims. He finds himself wobbly, but his knees are jelly and he can’t quite fortify them. Clumsily, he reaches out for the nearest thing he can support himself on: his bedside table.
“Clunk!” “Thud.” “Thud.” “Shiff-” The sound of things moving around and falling to the wayside sound muffled in his ears - a sharp contrast compared to his alarm just moments early. Taking a deep breath, Seungwoo stays there, letting the surreal sensation of unease wash over him. Gradually, his vision rights itself, and the buzz in his ears dims down. He takes a deep breath and stands up, completely fine.
“Got up too fast,” He mutters to himself. The only trace of his little woozy episode is a faint pulsing at his temples. That’ll be annoying. Not eager to dawdle any longer, Seungwoo continues with his morning routine.
Step one: work out. He varies his morning exercises - they’re always light to save energy for the afternoon’s more intense work outs. Today’s some quick yoga sequences and a bit of ab work. He finds himself winded doing so, and he concludes that he definitely didn’t sleep well.
Step two: shower. In and out, hair, body, rinse - then comes skincare. He’s pretty expedient, and his skincare routine is basically muscle memory at this point. Even though it takes more time, Seungwoo prefers to blow dry his hair; he feels like a savage when he doesn’t. The loud blowing of the hair dryer causes the pressure in his temples to swell, much to his annoyance.
Step three: breakfast. That’s usually a protein shake. Occasionally, he fixes himself boiled eggs, but he hasn’t been feeling that industrious. His workout had run sort of long, and he wants to get going.
Keys? Bookbag? Phone? Headphones? Seungwoo checks everything, patting down his pockets before yanking his bookbag up by a strap. He throws it over one shoulder before heading out the door.
Step four: walk to work. The quickest way to work is to cut across the square diagonally, then head up the hill. He’d gotten used to taking a slight detour, but given recent life events he can’t bear to relive, he just cuts through the square. He’s not sure what, but something had scratched his throat, and the tickling sensation adds another level of annoyance to his morning.
Even though he’s in the middle of the square, Seungwoo can see the opposite strip in the distance. He makes out the signs of the little shops one by one. “Umami” - a little fancy Japanese bistro, “Oat Market” - a local grocer, “Little Key” - the antiques shop, and, of course, there’s the bakery: Newvoice Bakery. Just seeing the sign makes Seungwoo’s heart drop. A queue stretches down the walk from the window, and thankfully the man whose face appears in it doesn’t seem to be Seungsik. Still, it causes a weird knot to form in Seungwoo’s gut, and he immediately reaches to his phone for some distraction.
Tapping idly across a few apps, he purses his lips until happening across his contacts. Eyebrow quirked, he decides to call someone he hadn’t spoken to in awhile. Maybe they could help alleviate some of the morning tedium and distract him from his headache.
“Brrzz… Brrzz… Brrzz… Brrz- Click.”
“Hello?” A woman’s voice, slightly groggy, answers on the other side of the line. “Seungwoo?!” She sounds shocked he’s alive.
“Hey, sis,” He greets his sister, Sunhwa. They haven’t talked for awhile. It’s nothing personal, it’s just an adulthood thing. The two of them are pretty busy, and they both have a bad habit of forgetting to text back. Consequently, they talk maybe once a month. Sometimes, he feels guilty about it, but it’s a two way street. She’s just as bad as he is, and after a while he started to suspect that it’s in their genetic code to be unintentionally distant. Whoops.
“You’re alive!?”
There it is, Seungwoo thinks, “No. I’m calling you from the afterlife, actually. I wanted you to know that I willed my entire estate to the neighborhood squirrels.”
Sunhwa’s laugh sounds muffled from the sketchy cell reception, “That’s assuming your will is found by your executor of estate. Would be a shame if someone found it first and altered it.”
“You wouldn’t dare tarnish the wishes of a dead man!” Seungwoo quips back.
“A dead man? Never. My brother? Always!”
Seungwoo chuckles; he realizes that it’d been awhile since he’d done that with genuity, “Wow! I am definitely writing you out of my will. And to think, I almost gave you my elementary school macaroni picture…”
“The one from pre-school? That looks impressively like a lemon having an aneurysm?”
“Well you can forget about wounded lemons, now. I’m leaving you nothing. Nothing!” Seungwoo laughs.
Has this hill always been this steep? He wonders as he ascends from the square into the side street leading to the Healing Center. It’s not like him to be winded, he does cardio at least three times a week. More lately. Yet, for some reason, on that particular morning he finds himself huffing and puffing. He hopes Sunhwa can’t hear. Thankfully, if she does, she doesn’t comment on it.
“That’s cold, brother. Ice cold,” Sunhwa pouts with a giggle. “Wait- why’d you call me anyways? Is something the matter?”
Crap , Seungwoo thinks. And so it begins, the interrogation. He loves his sister dearly, but like any older sibling, Sunhwa often expresses concern about his life. Too much concern. So much concern that it’s borderline meddling. Well, not borderline. It's just nosy meddling. He supposes he ought to have anticipated this turn of events, but his exceptionally sleep addled mind had foolishly hoped she’d not pry into the details of his life.
“No,” Seungwoo starts, “Nothing is the-“
“How are you adjusting to the new place? Oh, what’s it called… Sunnyside?”
“Sunrise. Sunrise Healing Center. And it’s-“
“That sounds kind of ominous, you know. Sunrise? Sounds too good to be true. The kind of name you’d give to a place if you wanted to convince people that it’s not shady - you know?”
“I promise it’s all it’s chalked up to be. Even more, maybe… I’ve never seen such a nice facility, actually-“
“What are your coworkers like?”
Oh boy. “Well, they’re all nice. I mostly work with a couple of seniors. Jung Eunji and-“
“Eunji? A woman? Are there any men there?”
“Wh- Why does that matter?!” This is getting out of hand already. Oh no.
“Because you’re going to die alone, I think!”
“Wh-“ Seungwoo pauses briefly, holding the phone away from his face so he can cough. He swears part of his soul departs with the violent cough that wracks his rib cage. Luckily, the PT student doesn’t need much of a soul. He reserves his humanity for patients, friends, and coworkers. Sometimes family - if they're not being obnoxious. Aside from that, he doesn’t find much use for it. As long as he’s polite, he doesn’t see a need to really embellish with over the top, fake friendliness or something.
“What happened to that cute boy- what was his name? Seungri?”
“Seungri? My professor?!” Seungwoo isn’t sure if the heat surging to his face comes from humiliation or feverish exhaustion. His head still persistently pulses despite the acetaminophen he’d taken earlier, which doesn’t help. “What are you talking about? He was a man - not a boy - first of all and- and-“
“You were totally crushing on him.”
“I was not-“ Seungwoo’s voice actually cracks there, plunging his heart even further toward the floor. He’s fairly certain it’ll start digging a hole at this rate. Then he’d be left heartless and soulless. Why are sisters such a pain in the ass?! “I- I told you had a little student-y crush on him in confidence. That- that wasn’t even a thing. It wasn’t even remotely a thing-“
“No, it wasn’t,” Sunhwa sounds disappointed, and if his head wasn’t already pounding, Seungwoo would want to bang it against the nearest hard surface. “Pity. He’d be good match. Scholarly, handsome…”
“How would you know what he looked like?”
“I looked him up, of course! All universities have profiles on their faculty. Did you know he-”
“Oh my god! Sunhwa!”
“Oh my god! Seungwoo! What?!”
“What- What what? Why do you think I’d tell you about anyone I met if the second I drop a name you go all- all stalkery?” Seungwoo halts for a second, catching his breath again. Maybe it’s hotter than usual , he thinks. The hill toward the center is really kicking his butt, and the sweat seeping out of his skin isn’t of the satisfying variety one feels from a sit in the sauna or the gym. It’s more like an icky, clammy sweat. Gross.
“You don’t have to drop a name,” Sunhwa sighs in defeat, “Fine, fine. At least tell me you’ve made a couple of friends.”
Seungwoo’s mind flashes back to his traumatic experience at the bar on the corner. He shudders just thinking of the blunt words that had spilled out of his mouth. So what if he thought they were true - he knew he was toeing a fine line, and he’d definitely crossed it. All he can remember is the way that guy looked at him. Seungsik. It’s a pretty name. Unique, too. Seungwoo doesn’t think he knows any other Seungsiks. Seungwoo’s mind redraws the image of the baker sitting there, chewing on his lower lip while he squints at a computer screen through round specs. The sleeves of his shirt had been pushed up to his forearms, revealing surprisingly well developed muscles.
“You have made friends, right?” Sunhwa pulls Seungwoo out of la la land, and another cough ejects from his throat before he can properly prepare. The palpitating at his temples pressed against his brain, making his face scrunch up at the painful sensation. Determinedly, he continues foraging his path toward work. “Seungwoo- was that a cough?!”
“There’s lots of pollen and stuff here,” Seungwoo lies. He doesn’t know anything about the pollen count.
“Oh, well- back to the subject: you have made friends, right Seungwoo?”
“The- um, the girls at work are nice.”
“And you’re not turning your nose up at every person who says hello, are you?”
Seungwoo presses his lips together, fighting the annoyed sigh that so badly wants to leave his throat. Or maybe it’s another cough - he’s not sure.
“Why do you think that?” He counters her question with another.
“Because I know you,” Sunhwa replies frankly. “I know you don’t always play well with others, and I don’t want you far away without anyone to look out for you.”
“I’m fine. Really, this town is- it has nothing aside from this little square and the Healing Center. Definitely no crime or anything. Anyways, I play great with others. My senior complimented my manner with patients just the other day!”
“Patients are different, Seungwoo. You know that, and I know how you can be.”
“Oh, and how is that?”
“Hm… Aloof? Tactless? Awkward?”
“Wow, thanks sis. You’re really giving me a pep talk here.”
“You’re welcome,” She giggles. “Seriously, though. Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine. Seriously.”
“Okay, okay… I just worry about you, alright.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not twelve,” Seungwoo chuckles, dragging his feet slightly. His throat feels sore, probably from the coughs. Maybe he is having an allergic reaction to something.
“You’ll always be my little brother, idiot,” Sunhwa laughs, “Alright. I’m getting to the office. Talk to you later!”
“Bye!”
“Bye- Oh, and make some friends. Go out on a date or something-”
“Mhm- Yeah, bye-”
“I’m serious! Don’t just work all summer, you have few summers left-”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now-”
“I love you, bye!”
“Bye!” Seungwoo furiously taps the red button to hang up. He heaves a sigh of relief when the call screen finally fades away to his home screen.
Ugh. Sisters. He groans internally as he reaches the home stretch of his walk. Whether it was the family conversation or his morning migraine, for some reason that morning’s walk felt like it took forever. Why does everyone act like I’m unfriendly or something. I can be super friendly! And awkward? I am not awkward!
The PT in training continues his mental reassurances until finally crossing the shining, electronic threshold of Sunrise’s sliding doors. They open with a soft “whish”, and a gust of air conditioning hits his searing skin. Though the sensation is usually refreshing, it gives Seungwoo goosebumps on that particular day. He frowns. Why does it feel colder than usual?
Wrapping his arms around himself, Seungwoo paces into the Healing Center lobby.
“Morning,” He croaks out to Eunji and Chorong who both stand behind the reception desk.
“Morning, Seungwoo!” Eunji greets him with one of her glowing smiles. Chorong echoes the greeting, giving him a friendly wave.
“Morning! I’ll see you guys in a few minutes,” He nods politely before disappearing behind the doors to the back hall. After an hour his pain medicine still hasn’t kicked in, and he realizes he’s in for a long day.
Seungsik purses his lips as he looks out the window. It was okay in the morning, but clouds are starting to roll in. Is this gonna be another one of those gloomy, rainy summers? He pouts internally. It always feels like a crime that the nice weather of summer be wasted away by rain clouds. Of course, Seungsik doesn’t exactly spend a lot of time outside, so it’s almost a moot point. Almost.
Gray skies make Seungsik zone out. It’s just a thing. Beneath the sunlight, everything is so sharp and crisp - it’s easy to focus; but, when that sunlight is stifled, the world is cast in a soft gloominess of sorts. It draws the baker’s eyes and leads his thoughts astray. The lighted signs across the square blur into little blobs of color in the distance. He glances at the sidewalks. There’s a decent amount of people out and about, more than usual for the afternoon - probably since it’s cooled off a few degrees. A few prudent people even don umbrellas, ready for the inevitable at any moment. The baker finds himself looking straight across the square, at one of the tall buildings. He said he lived there. The city boy. The rude, condescending one.
The one that Seungsik can’t get out of his head.
Seungsik frowns. The memory of their run-in at the bar still makes him want to curl up and die. It’s one of the memories he’s pretty sure will make him cringe decades into the future. He’d just complimented him. Probably. Maybe? Seungsik still isn’t sure. Sejun asserts that the guy had been flirting (he also won’t stop needling the baker about who the mystery guy is). Still. Disarming and approachable? That’s not flirtation. That sounds like the sort of stuff people say to an employee or a stranger that they don’t want to offend.
And I got offended , Seungsik pinches the bridge of his nose . Well why was he saying crap like that, anyway? As always, his thoughts go in circles. One second, he puts the blame on himself, the next it’s city boy’s fault for being so rude in the first place. He’s not sure where he should settle; all he knows is that he hates city boy’s guts. The passing infatuation will probably go away in a few days, maybe a week. Then, Seungsik can laugh at himself for even somewhat entertaining the notion of being attracted to the prick.
Why can’t anything be easy? He laments. It’s pathetic. It’s beyond pathetic, really. Even though he hates this guy, he’s still angsting over him like a teenager. He wishes he could just make him nice. Seungwoo is objectively droolworthy based on his pretty face and gorgeous figure alone. Is it too much to ask for him to have a nice personality, too?
“Ding. Ding.”
The bell to Newvoice rings, dragging Seungsik’s eyes away from the bleak scene outside. He quirks an eyebrow, surprised to see Heo Chan of all people. He’s early , Seungsik chuckles to himself. Typically, Chan waits for Hanse to show up. Then, he makes his entrance, spouting some excuse (or, occasionally, admitting he’s just being truant).
“What’s up?” Seungsik asks, moving from the window to lean over the cash wrap.
“Bored,” Chan shrugs nonchalantly.
And this is a place for entertainment? “Do you work today?”
“Nah, today’s a day off.”
“Trying to catch Hanse?” Seungsik pesters the other, his lips upturning into a smirk. Chan immediately flushes at the ears. He’s about a subtle as a rhinoceros painted bright pink and set loose in the square.
Chan simply shrugs, never properly answering the inquiry; instead, he approaches the counter, “You know what? I’m actually gonna eat.” He gives a dimpled smile.
Seungsik chuckles, “Oh? Whoa, I should like, take a picture of this moment. I’ll frame it and title it: ‘That One Time That Chan Actually Sat Down and Had a Pastry’ - has a nice ring, right?”
“Wow. You missed your calling as a- a namer. A person who names things. Is that a thing? A job title?”
“I dunno, but I heard that nail polish gets some pretty wild names.”
“Yeah, right. You could’ve done that.”
“Oh darn,” Seungsik dramatically frowns, “My parents must be so disappointed.”
“Terribly,” Chan nods with a laugh. “Okay, for real though. Coffee and a sweet brioche bun.”
“Is that how we ask for things?” The baker teases.
“Coffee and a sweet brioche bun please.”
“Better,” Seungsik chuckles. Chan fishes his wallet out of the pockets of his black striped sweats to pay as Seungsik gets his coffee. The selection of bossa-nova inspired pop feels all too bright to Seungsik, and he makes a mental note to switch up the playlist when he gets a chance. There’s still a few sweet brioche buns left which makes plating and serving quick enough. Chan mutters a thanks and scrolls his phone after paying.
When Seungsik manages to change the playlist to something softer, things finally seem to right themselves. He sighs again, letting the newfound feeling of peace wash over him. Sejun is in the back prepping a bit. Chan is sitting quietly (a very, very rare occurrence), and everything is tidy for the afternoon. For a minute, all is in order.
Just a minute, though.
“Ding!”
“Yo!” Hanse’s loud voice gets through the door before his body does.
Well, that was a nice two minutes of peace and quiet, “Hey. You’re early!” He’s early; Chan’s early. Seungsik starts to get suspicious. He wonders if time is off or if he’s the one off.
“Just a bit,” Hanse shrugs. He doesn’t hesitate to slide into the seat next to Chan’s. Things get louder. Way louder.
Sejun pops out of the kitchen door to greet the two, “Hey!” They greet him with an echoed “hey” before going back to talking. It’s like they’re in their own little world. Sejun, wearing a lopsided smirk, takes a spot next to Seungsik, shaking his head.
“Those two are more reliable than the trains in the city,” Sejun jokes.
Seungsik can’t help but laugh at the lame joke. It’s true. They’re just like that. Seungsik is close to Sejun, but they’ve always been different than, well, that. Chanse. Whatever actual word can be used to describe them. Maybe “friendship” is fitting, but Seungsik feels like it’s disingenuous. Sometimes, it’s like the two are on a different plane of existence from the rest of them. Seungsik has overheard their conversations before. They talk about absolutely nothing - but everything, too. It sounds like utter nonsense to him, but the way the speak emphatically, gesturing and laughing and yelling, it has to mean something. It’s impressive, really. Like a made up language or a barrier that only they can penetrate.
“When the heat death of the universe happens, those two will probably be live streaming it,” Seungsik laughs. He watches Chan feed Hanse a chunk of sweet brioche without even looking. Without even a word. He just does it, and Hanse just knows to take it. Lucky.
“You’ve been kinda spacey today. You alright?” Sejun asks.
Alarmed, Seungsik’s eyes widen and he stutters, “Wh- A-alright?” He scoffs, “I’m- I’m fine. What?”
“You can act better than that. I’ve seen you play innocent many a time.”
“It’s not my fault that authority figures feel inclined to give me stern warnings in favor of punishments,” Seungsik crosses his arm in a farce of a pout.
“Uh-huh. Come on, spill. What’s bothering you?” Sejun is persistent. Damn him for being a good friend!
“The weather is turning to crap,” Seungsik says.
“Can you try a little harder than that if you’re gonna feed me a lie?”
“What? We get like. Half a year of acceptable weather before this place freezes over and turns into a winter blunderland. We can’t even enjoy it when the weather is like this.”
“Seungsik how much time do you spend outdoors?”
“Some people don’t like rain regardless! It makes life more difficult. Shopping, going to work…”
“You live upstairs.”
“And those stairs get very slippery!”
Sejun snorts at that bit. Seungsik knows very well that he’s not fooling nobody, but he’s not about to tell Sejun that his weird bar encounter is still bothering him. Sejun probably knows that’s exactly what’s bothering his friend. It doesn’t mean Seungsik needs to fluff the other’s ego by saying it in words.
“Okay, seriously?” Sejun lifts his notched eyebrow.
Seungsik rolls his eyes. Luckily, Chan and Hanse manage to distract Sejun by doing, well, something. Neither are sure what, but yelling is involved. Their laughter echoes loudly up and down the narrow bakery, and Hanse shoves Chan playfully. When the commotion settles down, the to resume their relatively calm conversation as if nothing had happened.
Once again, the baker spaces out slightly. His eyes drift, and they find Chan’s.
Chan’s eyes squint slightly with his large, dimpled smile. His shoulders shake, and a happy flush has settled on his cheeks and ears. Hanse is talking about something animatedly. Seungsik catches little syllables - he thinks games are involved. Or some anime. He’s not positive. Whatever it is, Chan is enraptured. He sits there patiently, nodding and engaging as Hanse spins some story or tells him some weird, gory fact that nobody actually needs to know. It’s like Chan’s smile is glued there, just permanently fixed. His gaze occasionally wanders, it meanders down Hanse’s face slightly or even down to his shoulders, but it always finds a way back up to Hanse’s eyes.
Seungsik can feel the weight of it, the sheer, unadulterated feeling behind those eyes. When Chan looks at Hanse, they’re different. They’ve got a twinkle in them - a twinkle that nobody else receives. Only Hanse gets that twinkle. He looks at Hanse like he’s the most fascinating, breathtaking, captivating person in the whole entire world. Maybe to Chan, he is.
No, not maybe. Very definitely yes.
Chan almost looks like he’s in awe or wonder in Hanse’s presence. It’s not like it’s blatant, but Seungsik sees it. He’s had to third wheel with the two of them and known both of them for years. Sejun sees it, too. They all do, actually. All of them except, of course, Do Hanse. Chan’s admiration borders on reverence for the other and, in a way, it’s almost heart-wrenching. Usually, Seungsik isn’t phased by it, but today things are different for some reason. Maybe it’s the dismal weather or the healing scar from his awkward bar encounter with a cute guy. For the first time in a long time - maybe ever - he looks at Chan, really looks at him. He sits on the other side of that pane of invisible glass separating Chanse from the world, and he watches, stupefied. For the first time, he thinks to himself:
God, I wish someone would look at me like that.
Just once.
Chan laughs. He brushes his forearm against Hanse’s in a sneaky, seemingly innocent gesture. His eyes constantly flit down Hanse’s face - to his lips, Seungsik realizes. He’d watched the other check Hanse out for years and just now notices that. Occasionally, his fingers twitch a bit, or he swallows extra hard. It’s astounding.
What’s it like to have someone look at you like that?
How does he not even notice?!
“Hello?” Sejun’s voice suddenly breaches Seungsik’s daze. The head baker hops from surprise, and a sheepish flush drops down his face.
“Wh-”
“Dude, seriously? You just zoned out. Again .”
“Sorry, I um-”
“What’s your deal, dude? You’re gonna burn your hand or- or cut a finger off at this rate,” Sejun’s tone drops from done with the world to genuinely concerned.
Seungsik sighs, his shoulders sinking, “I… I am spacy today. I apologize. I am your boss, and it’s my duty to lead you-”
“Sik, you don’t have to do the whole HR ‘boss’ thing right now,” Sejun lowers his voice, his tone softening even more, “I’m serious. What… What is it?”
The baker’s lips part to say something, but he clamps them shut. Seungwoo pops up in his head again. Seungsik almost can’t help himself, but he lassos in his rogue thoughts, rushing to give some sort of response.
“Look, I, uh…” Seungsik glances over at the happy not-couple tittering at the table in the distance. Gears in his heads start turning, and he hushes himself to barely a whisper, “I’m worried about Chan.”
Sejun’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and he looks over at the duo. He nods, apparently accepting the explanation. Head tilted, he asks:
“What about him?”
“W-well, he, um, he kinda likes Hanse, you know?” Seungsik whispers.
“Yeah,” Sejun nods, his his brows furrowed in bafflement. “Yeah- like, half the town knows.”
“Shut up! I- I mean I know, but…” Seungsik glances over at the two again. “Like, do you think he’s ever gonna do anything about it?”
The notch-browed patissier looks up in thought for a few moments, actually chewing on the question. Relief floods Seungsik; it seems like he’d given a good enough distraction.
“Nah,” Sejun says finally, “He’s too much of a chicken. Plus, he loves what they have now. He’d never risk losing that.”
“I guess, yeah. I just- Man, don’t you think it drives him crazy sometimes?” Seungsik presses further, driving the topic of conversation further and further away from himself.
“Oh, definitely. Remember when Hanse and Bomi dated in high school?”
“Oh, yeah. He, um, he took that pretty well. He started working then, didn’t he?”
“Yeah so he could fund his sudden onset of sneaker obsession.”
“Oh, yeah, his collection… I mean, that did stick-”
“He used to spend hours polishing them one by one, Sik. Hours.”
“I… I do remember that,” Even though it’s kind of pitiful, Seungsik can’t help laughing a little at it. The mental image of foolish Chan painstakingly polishing anything is kind of funny. “Someone smudged one of his, like limited edition pairs.”
“Oh yeah, poor Sungjae.”
“Only time I ever saw Chan actually mad. Like actually mad.”
“It was terrifying.”
“Sungjae wasn’t the same ever since. Always avoided us after that…”
“Yeah- does breaking a kid’s nose seem like healthy coping behavior to you?” Sejun asks rhetorically.
“What’s he gonna do when Hanse…” When Hanse what? Seungsik wonders himself. He doesn’t really think to the far future often. Thinking of Hanse’s is even weirder. He’s going to school for music production. Then what? Will he move to the city, too? And what about Sejun? What about Chan? Will Chan follow Hanse? His train of thought starts venturing into deeper territory than he wants it to. Thankfully, Sejun finishes his sentence before he can go off the rails in existential crisis.
“When Hanse finds someone that isn’t him?” Sejun frowns. “I… I don’t know.”
“Y-yeah. Like I said. Worried.”
“Eh. Don’t worry too much. Chan is strong as heck. Anyways it’s not like anything drastic is gonna happen tomorrow or anything…” Sejun purses his lips. After a small pause, he follows his statement up, “Great, now you’ve got me worried.”
“Sorry!” Seungsik chuckles impishly. “I just- It’s a thing.”
“What’s a thing?” Hanse hollers from across the room.
“Nothing!” “Nothing!” The two bakers shout back in unison.
“You two look so shady right now!” Chan comments with a laugh.
“Thanks, that’s what we were going for!” Seungsik replies.
“Ah, those two,” Sejun comments in a lower voice when the riotous duo’s attention is back on Hanse’s phone. The patissier leans in closer, whispering, “Don’t worry. Chan’ll be fine. Probably. They’re in a happy bubble. Maybe it’ll burst this summer, but it probably won’t.” He shrugs. “Don’t let it eat at you too much. Chan’s thirsting never hurt anybody, and Hanse definitely doesn’t notice it.”
Seungsik forces out a laugh, nodding in agreement, “Right. Thanks, man.”
“I’m gonna go check on the loaves in the oven. Should be done in a minute or two.”
“Cool, awesome,” Seungsik watches Sejun disappear into the back before turning back to watch the two again.
Deep down he’s got a lingering fear about being alone. Well, saying it’s one lingering fear is wrong. It’s more like dozens of fears, perpetually flying around in his head. Sometimes they come, sometimes they go, some stick for longer and some have never left. Others only rear their ugly head when he’s drunk, or confronted with sad situations. Looking at Chan, he thinks about his fears. Their distillation results in one single fear: that he’ll never find love. Ever.
It’s a pretty common fear, he knows, but looking at Chan, another one creeps into the back of his mind. What if he does find love, but his feelings aren’t returned. What if he’s like Chan, pining and pining and pining. Like some sort of eternal sentence - a love purgatory. Stasis.
What’s worse: being alone, or perpetual pining?
Seungsik knows what it’s like to be alone. That, he can do. It’s a bit mopey at times, but he’s survived it for the majority of his life. He’s never been in love. Not really. Not in that eye-twinkling, adoration bordering on worship, through thick and thin kind of love.
Sejun was right , Seungsik muses. Chan is strong.
Chan has endured all of those feelings for so long, and he’s never asked for anything in return. He’s never broken down or spilled his feelings - at least, not as far as the guys know. He’s always been there, through the highest highs and lowest lows. In spite of all of that, he loves. Not just half-assedly, either. He always loves with all of his heart, unabashedly and unapologetically, never letting go.
Seungsik isn’t sure he’s capable of that, and that scares him.
Dim gray filters in through Seungwoo’s half-lidded eyes first thing in the morning. He tries to blink them open, but it’s almost like their glued shut with cement. After entirely too much effort, he pries them open and is met with the dreary sight of gray skies beyond his window. A frown tugs his lips downwards.
Pressure.
There’s so much pressure.
It squeezes his head like gravity itself is trying to crush his skull from every side. Seungwoo winces, and his face scrunches in pain. To make matters worse, he can’t breathe. Nothing’s quite as exhilarating as trying to take a deep breath and learning that the nose has decided to take a day off.
It’s gonna be a long day.
After cursing internally for a few seconds, he glances around hazily to find his phone. It looks so dark outside, but it’s not night time.
Did I wake up early? He wonders to himself. I swear if my alarm’s gonna go off in a few minutes-
“Boom-!!”
The thunderous bass of Seungwoo’s alarm song blares out from his phone speaker as if cued.
“Wh- Crap! Stop-” Seungwoo shoots up - something he regrets almost immediately. Hurt shoots from the back of his head down his spine. His brain lags significantly, and he whips his head around in search of where he’d last set his phone.
After entirely too much effort, Seungwoo finds it. He paws at his side table blindly until coming in contact with the cool glass of his phone screen. The song is on full blast, and with every beat of the backing bass the pain in his head pulses more intensely. He taps at the infernal device violently, willing the awful noise to stop.
Seungwoo squints at the screen, and the brightness actually hurting his eyes. The sound had stopped, but he had, apparently, opened an app in his blind poking.
“What the…” He murmurs to himself, trying to comprehend what he’d tapped on his phone. His head throbs as he blinks rapidly to clear the bleariness from his eyes. Icons and fonts start coming into view, and he realizes he’d somehow tapped “recent sites” in his browser or something. The familiar symbol of his zodiac sign decorates the top of the page, and beneath it, a horoscope:
“Good morning Capricorn. I hope you slept well, because you’re in for a bumpy ride today. We know Caps are stubborn as they come. You’re fierce and self-reliant - which is exactly why today’s going to be especially challenging for you. Remember that depending on others isn’t a sign of weakness. Shed that conservative cocoon and open up, Cap! Something exciting is coming your way - but only if you let it.”
“Ugh,” Seungwoo scoffs, rolling his eyes. Tossing his phone on the bed, he glances out the window of his flat noticing droplets on the glass. It’s drizzling. Great. “Ugh- What in the-” Seungwoo hisses, bringing his hand to his forehead. It hurts. Bad. The pain radiates from his temples across his forehead and down his nose. It trickles into his teeth and the back of his neck. Had he really been sleeping that bad? He wonders.
“Crap,” The student groans. Lethargically, he gets up. He doesn’t nearly pass out, which is a plus, but the consolation is small considering how his entire body hurts. It just. Hurts. Pain. Everywhere . Aches knock at his joints and muscles like they’d been waiting to be let in for a long, long time. The slight tickle in his throat had evolved into a nagging scratch, and it hurt slightly when he swallowed. He quickly deduces that it’s probably due to the sinus drainage. Everything is clogged up and everything hurts.
Fantastic. Just fantastic. Seungwoo thinks. He’d done all the right things the previous day. Okay, so he’d done his full workout and extra cardio - but aside from that he’d eaten a meal and taken some more medicine.
“Just get through it,” Seungwoo mumbles to himself. “Just get through it, you’re fine.” As if in protest, his brain sends out another wave of pain across his temples. He winces, but pretends to ignore it - like he’s at actual odds with his own brain. Han Seungwoo doesn’t take to sickness. At all. He figures it’s probably a little cold anyways. Some meds and fluids will clear him up in a matter of hours, and his awful morning will be a nasty memory.
Everything moves more slowly that morning, but he does it. Showering is by far the most blissful part of the morning thus far, the hot water soothing his body and the vapors soothing his sinuses. Unfortunately, that little spell of joy ends way too quickly. When he steps out, a shiver comes over him that never quite leaves, and his sinuses close back up without the gentle coaxing of steam. After a very, very slothful run through his routine, he manages to find a mask in his first aid kit and slings it over his ears.
Full of determination, he marches out of his door, locking it behind him. The steps feel extra wobbly beneath his feet, but he gets to the ground okay and is off. Once again, he bounds through the courtyard. Well, not so much bounds as drags his feet. His eyes drift over to the bakery, Newvoice, and he frowns.
A cup of tea would be amazing right now. He laments. He really should have made one himself - this he knows - but he’s never tried their loose-leaf blends, and it’s always nice when someone else fixes a proper cup of tea. Suddenly, Seungwoo seizes. A vicious cough takes over his whole body, scraping and scratching his lungs and throat until it finally claws its way out of his mouth. He shakes with the force of the awful thing and if he wasn’t sure before, he’s definitely sure now that part of his soul is gone. His entire body responds to the cough: his muscles ache and the pain in his head squeezes, a crushing sensation.
It’s miserable, but Seungwoo grits his teeth. He doesn’t care. It’s just pain , he tells himself. It’ll go away .
Slowly, he continues his trip to work. Unfortunately, the fantasy of the handsome (albeit sensitive) baker brewing him a cup of tea and speaking soft words of reassurance into his ear is just that: a fantasy. He trudges toward the hill, counting down the minutes until his medicine actually kicks in.
“Do Hanse, go to bed,” Chan half-says, half-yawns into his phone. He stretches out on his bed, the excess of plush and pillows billowing around him.
“Wh- It’s- it’s only… Oh,” Hanse’s voice is slightly fuzzy on the other side of the receiver - not that Chan cares. He smirks.
“Yeah, oh,” Chan tells the other, another big yawn taking over his body.
“Wait- Did you… Did you set an alarm to tell me to go to sleep?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you serious?” Hanse snickers.
“What? You literally told me to.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would! I thought you’d forget or just stay asleep. You don’t work ‘til noon.”
“And you work at three which is in, like, six hours.”
“Uh, it’s in eight hours-”
“ Listen !” Chan animatedly huffs into the phone, “I- I am slow okay. It’s seven in the morning. Ish.”
“Okay, mom, I’ll go to bed. Fine.”
Chan chuckles, fighting to keep down yet another yawn (he’s definitely sleeping more after this), “I’m, like, surprised and also not surprised that you’re up.”
“Blame Subinnie. He’s a bad influence. Great at shooters, though!” Hanse jokes.
It pricks Chan ever so slightly. The sensation is like a thorn - tiny, but ever present. Even a thorn can cause a mighty lion to wail in pain. Chan swallows, laughing it off. Subinnie , he thinks. He didn’t know Subin is the night owl type until just then. You learn something new every day.
“Whatever he says, say no. If he takes out weed or alcohol, just call me sweetie, okay. I’ll pick you up,” Chan says facetiously.
Hanse laughs loudly, and Chan has to actually take the phone away from his ear. Even though he can’t see the other smile, the thought of Hanse’s face all wrinkled with joy makes him smile. Chan gives up and puts Hanse on speaker.
“What?” Chan asks. “Dude, it wasn’t that funny. The fact that you’re laughing like that that is just proof you need sleep.”
“It’s just funny the- the contrast in your voice,” Hanse mutters as he comes down from his sleep-deprived mania, “Your words say mom but your voice is so- so husky.”
Husky? Chan ponders the word. He tosses it around a bit in his head. He likes that sound of that. Husky. Strong and a bit gruff. That’s nice. He keens at it just a tiny bit.
“I just woke up. I’m like, sixty percent asleep,” Chan responds in his husky , sleepy voice. “And you should be a hundred percent asleep.”
“Okay, okay. I’m getting off of my PC now, I promise,” Hanse says in defeat. Even though he didn’t mention it, Chan has a feeling that Hanse worked on some music, too. Hanse stays up late, but his bed time is around three or four in the morning. Not seven. Not unless he’s got a project. Chan’s already excited to hear it, whatever it is. Hanse’s brilliant. Actually brilliant - and Chan genuinely believes that. He knows it.
“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna pass out again,” Chan replies.
“What? No bedtime story?”
“A bedtime story? Really?”
The muffled sound of things shifting around echoes out from the speaker on Chan’s phone. Hanse’s moving - probably to bed if he can guess. He hears more little noises - clicks and surges of static - before Hanse returns.
“I like the one with the princess and the tower,” Hanse says in his high-pitched baby voice.
Now it’s Chan’s turn to laugh, and he does. The world smudges and smears for a couple of minutes because all he can see is the obscured version of it through his squinted eyes. That’s one of Hanse’s special talents, he supposes.
“What? Why won’t you tell me a story?” Hanse asks, still using his baby voice.
“Stop,” Chan asks -it’s more of a plea, really. His stomach is starting to hurt.
“Stop what?” Baby Hanse asks.
“Oh my- I’m- I’m serious you-”
“I just want a story, Chan. Can you pwease tell me a story?”
“Can you please- please stop.”
“But you didn’t tell me a story yet!” Hanse remains steadfast.
“Ow, my stomach. Ow!”
“Channie, pretty, pretty pretty please tell me a-” Suddenly, Hanse’s voice cracks. He coughs slightly before breaking out into his own fit of giggles. “Ouch, that hurts after a bit.”
“Oh… Oh…” Chan sinks back into his mattress after having convulsions from gut tearing laughter. “Thank you.”
“I could have done it longer if I wasn’t so sleep deprived,” Hanse taunts the other.
“No, no, that’s fine. I think we had enough.”
“Well sorry, not all of us can have sultry, deep, sexy voices like-” Hanse dramatically lowers his voice, “Heo Chan.”
Chan snorts again (making another wave of pain run down his abdomen). Fire sears his skin, and it flushes his face and ears a bright pink. An ear to ear smile stretches across his face and, even though Hanse can’t see it, Chan clamps a hand over his mouth to hide it. All Hanse had done was say a joke, but even that little mocking compliment makes the other giddy.
“Yeah, guess not. Sucks to be you,” Chan responds quickly, hoping the pause wasn’t weird or longer than he thought.
“Wow, thanks, Chan. Really glad we have this wonderful relationship built on mutual kindness and shared values.”
“Go to bed, Hanse.”
“I am in bed.”
“Go to sleep.”
“I will soon. Probably.”
“Hanse,” Chan purses his lips, “I’m serious. Don’t ride that bike sleep deprived. It’s dangerous.”
“It’s a bike- ”
“If you get put in the hospital it’ll only be hilarious for, like, a week. Then it’s just sad. Do you want to be sad, Hanse? Do you want people to ask you to sign your cast, eyes filled with- with pity?”
There’s a pause.
Check mate, Chan thinks to himself, a grin of smug satisfaction gracing his features.
“You suck,” Hanse says in defeat.
“I do if you can afford it.”
“You can’t be that expensive.”
“I’m out of your price range.”
“Like I’d want to buy you.”
“Like I’d let you.”
“Like I’d-”
“Good night, Hanse,” Chan cuts him off. They could probably go on for hours - something neither of them need.
Hanse laughs softly on the other side of the line. Chan can tell the other is fading. He heard more and more yawns as the call progressed, and Hanse’s own voice is a bit hoarse with sleepiness.
“No fair,” Hanse says, “You get the last word.”
“We can continue our riveting debate tomorrow- er, well, today.”
“Yeah. Yikes. Well, good night, Chan.”
“Good night,” Chan lilts, ready to hang up.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Hanse suddenly exclaims. Chan’s hand draws back swiftly, and he narrows his eyes at his phone screen like it’ll give him an answer. He swallows down a lump of nerves that had managed to stick itself in his throat.
“What- what is it?” Chan asks.
Hanse, significantly more calm, responds: “Thank you.”
“Huh?”
“Thank you for actually telling me to go the heck to sleep.”
“I told you I would.”
“I- I know, I just- I didn’t expect it.”
“I keep my promises,” Chan shrugs even though the other can’t see it.
“Yeah, you do. Okay, for real this time: good night.”
“Yeah. Go to sleep. I’m depriving you of precious sleep time. Don’t let me do that. Don’t stand for that!”
Hanse chuckles on the other side of the phone, and it enters Chan’s ears as sweet music. Okay, so it’s not exactly the most dainty sound on the planet, but it means Hanse is happy - and that, to Chan, is the makings of a masterpiece.
“Okay, okay. G’night.”
“Night,” Chan says. There’s a brief pause, and neither hang up. Without even thinking the words, they leave his lips. It’s like they’d been waiting for a chance to escape. They make a break for it, leaving Chan’s mouth without his permission.
“Wait,” Chan says.
“Hm?” Hanse takes his turn in being confused. “What is it? What’s up?”
Say it, Chan tells himself. Just. Just say it. Say it.
“Hanse, I…” Conflicting voices in his head start going at it:
Do it.
Or… Don’t?
What if it goes catastrophically? This could ruin everything?
What if it goes well - it could change your life!
Don’t do it, you’ll make everything complicated.
You can’t hold onto it forever.
This won’t just affect you, this’ll affect everyone. You could ruin it for everyone.
Be selfish for once. Do this for you. You deserve to get it off of your chest!
“What is it?” Hanse asks more attentively.
Tell him.
Don’t tell him.
Tell him.
Don’t tell him.
Tell him.
Don’t
“Nothing,” Chan says with a forced laugh. “I- I forgot, I’m sorry. My brain is like. Still in dreamland. G’night, man.”
“Are… Are you sure?” Hanse sounds hesitant to hang up the phone.
“Wh- Yeah. Man I woke up at seven in the mourning just to tell you to sleep. My brain’s a little fried.”
“Yeah, right, but um… You know if you ever need-”
“To talk about anything. I know, I know.”
“I know it’s literally the corniest possible thing, but… Like, honestly I doubt you could shock me. You don’t need to keep secrets from me. I literally don’t care, I’ll go with whatever.”
“Thank god because I really need help hiding a body-”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“You said you’d go with whatever! I’m disappointed,” Chan feigns.
“Okay, fine. We’re both too sleep deprived and sober for realtalk anyway. Good night Chan. For real.”
“For real,” Chan replied. “Good night.” Before anything else stupid can come out of his mouth, he taps the hang up button furiously. When the screen finally switches off, he heaves a sigh of relief. A dizzying buzz had settled into his veins, and there it stayed: a combination of nerves and ecstasy, all elicited by one Do Hanse.
Sexy , Chan thinks. He was totally joking, but still… He said my morning voice was sexy. Unable to help it, Chan tosses and thrashes happily in his bed. That giddy buzz wraps him in warmth, coaxing him back into a pleasant, restful sleep.