Chapter Text
Hongjoong
“Hwa,” Hongjoong whines, with a huff at the end, squeezing the iPhone slightly tighter than needed, but this boy really is testing his patience. “I’m going to be late for class.” He then looks at the paper cup filled with a two-shot Americano on the bench, the steam floating into the wind.
His shoulders sag. “Plus, my coffee’s getting cold.”
His elder chuckles while changing his pose, leaning against the lamppost and looking into the distance with tangible mystery. “You know that if you didn’t need this photo for your portfolio, you would have left already. Besides,” he changes his pose, brushing his hair aside, and then winks at Hongjoong. “You can’t resist taking photos of me.”
He crosses his arms and huffs again, unable to refute what Seonghwa just said. Ever since they were kids, Hongjoong would seem as if he were almost obsessed with his best friend, always taking photos of the two of them with his disposable cameras, and then dragging his mum to the nearest pharmacy to have them developed.
“First of all, it’s a video that you’re going to go through yourself to find the photos. Secondly, you know that you like having them taken.”
Seonghwa shrugs, flashing a smile. “Is that such a crime?”
The younger smiles back, remembering the days where Seonghwa would secretly take some of his developed photos and plaster them on his wall, even though his family held annual photoshoots. “Not since I found that photo of you picking your nose.”
Pausing, Seonghwa’s ears redden and he puts his hands on his hips. “That was in second grade!”
“And in a scrapbook at my house right now. Good memories.”
“You still have that?” The blood visibly drains from his face, thinking of the possibilities. “But it’s probably just tucked away in a book or something, right?”
Hongjoong laughs. “For now. It might make a good ‘Throwback Thursday’ post, though.”
Before he knows it, Seonghwa grabs him around his waist and traps his arms against him. Hongjoong does all he can not to let the phone drop out of his hand. “You wouldn’t dare.” His tone is joking, albeit with some fear.
“Buy me dinner, and we have a deal.”
“I was going to do that, anyway,” Seonghwa whines, letting go of him, straightening his coat. Walking over to the bench, he takes a sip of Hongjoong’s coffee, and his face drops slightly. “Your coffee’s kinda cold. You want me to buy you a new one?”
He shakes his head in response. “It’s okay – you already bought me this one.”
“Only because you helped me with my business management homework,” Seonghwa huffs. “God, how are you so good at everything?”
Hongjoong replies with a smile, “And that was because you got my microphone repaired last month – my finals project for film class would have been toast without it,” and puts on his gloves, ignoring the last bit of the question. It’s nice that people compliment him all the time, but it gets a little embarrassing after a while. It’s all just long hours and hard work.
Seonghwa and him walk out of the entrance of the park and continue towards the Arts department of the main NYU campus. “Yeah, but you didn’t need it. You still won first place at the First Run Film Festival. I mean, that’s huge, Hongjoong.”
“Yeah, and?” Hongjoong says nonchalantly, but he doesn’t like how the conversation is going. He throws his coffee cup away, thinking of how to deflect the conversation. “You know how -”
“Sometimes,” Seonghwa cuts in, and Hongjoong stops, surprised. “Sometimes, I don’t really know what I’m doing at NYU.”
“What do you mean? You’re in one of the top business schools in the country. You got accepted into Harvard. You’re extremely gifted.”
Seonghwa forces his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, but what does that mean? I don’t have any passion for it – not like you do, with art, and film, and music. You love everything you do. I’m just running through the bases.”
Hongjoong’s expression saddens from hearing this, but he can’t show that to his best friend. He jumps in front of him, and puts his hands on Seonghwa’s cheeks, slapping them lightly. “Don’t think of it like that. You’ll find it, and when you do, it’ll be the most amazing thing New York has ever seen.”
“Hongjoong, I -”
“Just don’t go into sports, okay?” He jokes, stepping back in line with Seonghwa.
Seonghwa blushes again, probably also thinking back to seventh grade. “That was one time.”
“You fell on your face.” The chuckles were already spilling out of his mouth.
“The soccer field was muddy, okay?” Seonghwa buries his hands in his face.
“It was the middle of summer, Hwa,” Hongjoong answers, clutching his stomach from laughter. “And then the mud was on your shirt for picture day - ”
“Joong, stop.”
“The only thing that made middle school worth it.”
Sighing, Seonghwa jogs away from Hongjoong, bouncing with his hands in his pockets, and eventually finding his way up the stairs to the main entrance of the building where Hongjoong has his theory classes. Hongjoong runs after him, probably looking pathetic because of his stupidly short legs. “You didn’t have to run a marathon to get here, you know,” he puffs out, slightly breathless.
“Oh, I know,” he says, flashing Hongjoong a sly smile. “Also, it’s cute that I leave you speechless.”
Hongjoong mimics him saying that, an annoyed expression on his face while he takes out his phone and checks his feeds. “Ooh, where’d you get that pick-up line? Love Island?”
“You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about that.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Hongjoong whispers to his Instagram feed and nearly drops his phone down the flight of stairs. “This cannot be real.”
Seonghwa leans over Hongjoong, looking over his shoulder at the phone. “What’s up? Did something happen?”
“Only the best moment of my life,” he replies, too ecstatic to do anything else than open an Instagram page and beam at his best friend. “Check who followed me.”
“@yun.arthoe?” Seonghwa reads out his display name, visibly confused. “Is this guy important or…?”
Hongjoong sighs to himself. “I’m surprised by how ignorant you can be at times. Jeong Yunho is only one of the most acclaimed art critics at the moment. And he’s our age – he even studies at Berkeley, a drama student. I’ve been following him for a year now; I love his film reviews.”
“Then did you see that he reviewed your short film for the First Run?”
Hongjoong pauses and turns to Seonghwa. He stutters, “What – what did you say?”
“Yeah,” Seonghwa taps onto a link in Yunho’s bio, and his most recent review pulls up on the screen. The title card of Hongjoong’s accredited work shows up, along with a short caption of Yunho’s opinion. “It says, ‘Precious’ was a raw piece of artistry that truly captured Kim Hongjoong’s skill and soul. I’m excited to see what he does next.’ See, it’s good, don’t be worr- Hongjoong?”
Hongjoong’s face is blank. “Hwa, get ready to catch me.”
“Why?” He instantly gets worried.
“I’m ready to float off into space and onto Cloud 9! This is the best day of my life!”
Hongjoong’s beaming smile made Seonghwa’s smile instantly grow in return. “Okay, sure, but you have to go to class first.”
“Who can focus on class at a time like this?”
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