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Sometimes, Hansol thinks Seungkwan is like the sun.
One day Seungkwan sings a heart wrenching ballad and Hansol’s eyes are stinging by the end of the final note and when Seungkwan smiles at him from across the room, Hansol feels the need to avert his eyes.
So, for all intents and purposes, Hansol thinks Seungkwan is like the sun, and that he should come with a warning: do not stare for too long because you will burn.
Other times, Seungkwan is just Seungkwan.
He dribbles sauce down his chin and on his white t-shirt and smiles conspiratorially at Hansol when he ties Mingyu’s shoelaces together, causing Mingyu to fall flat on his face when he tries to walk.
______
Hansol’s voice cracks as he raps the last line of his verse and his heart seizes up in his chest because he can feel how their trainer’s eyes narrow down to shoot a sharp stare in his direction.
Puberty is just one of the many things in his life Hansol has no control over, but they’re trying to whip him into shape and into an idol who is above insignificant things like growing pains, and petty things such as emotions, so of course, being a teenager is no excuse for ruining his monthly evaluation performance.
Hansol’s got a near perfect poker face so when Jisoo and Seungcheol comes over to pat him on the back sympathetically, he just brushes it off as being just another day in the life of a trainee, shrugs it away like it’s not a big deal.
But Seungkwan, because he knows too much, and observes people with the intensity of peeling a stubborn orange, comes and sits with Hansol in the corner and silently slips his hand into Hansol’s. And Hansol holds on to his fingers a little too tightly for the next few minutes but Seungkwan doesn’t complain.
______
There’s a tide within Hansol that Seungkwan controls. It rises and falls with no warning, leaving him feeling wrung out and dizzy, and he doesn’t even know why.
So, sometimes, Hansol thinks Seungkwan is more like the moon.
All of this makes Seungkwan seem farther away from Hansol than he actually is. But they’re close, impossibly so. They are drawn to each other very quickly, the way all same aged trainees end up being drawn to each other like moths to a flame, as they learn to navigate around the hierarchy set amongst the trainees and nurse their bruised egos together when the older boys get a little too rough.
______
Hansol has run out of celestial bodies to compare Seungkwan to but that’s okay because right now Seungkwan is painfully human and young. And he’s crying when Hansol peers into the bathroom. The eggshell walls of their house are thin, and sound carries embarrassingly far.
It’s a little gross but Hansol walks inside with his glass of untouched orange juice and sets it on the rack above the sink before crouching down in front of Seungkwan.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Seungkwan returns pointedly and rubs at his face until it’s even redder.
“Fair enough.” Hansol makes himself comfortable on the floor. It’s a little cramped and their knees touch when he sits cross-legged, facing Seungkwan.
Seungkwan sighs tiredly. “Go back to sleep, Hansol. I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Nope,” Hansol says, and he can see that it annoys Seungkwan, but annoyance is an emotion more welcome than seeing Seungkwan’s big eyes cloudy and full of sadness.
Seungkwan scowls as he looks away, directing his sharp stare onto the floor between them. “You’re so annoying.”
Hansol only hums in reply.
Seungkwan breaks the point of contact between their bodies when he draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin atop them. When the bubble of silence between them stretches thin enough to burst he blurts out, “I miss my mom.”
Hansol nods because of course he does; a few hundred miles away and separated by Seungkwan’s desperate dream for debut, it’s not surprising at all that he’s homesick. Hansol’s own parents are much closer, but still, his own dreams are a large chasm that separates them from him.
**“I miss her cooking,” Seungkwan whines. “I miss food, period.”
Hansol is lucky enough to have been gifted with a fast metabolism, so he could devour pizza for dinner for a whole week and not gain a single kilo. So, he can’t pretend to know how Seungkwan feels, but he still nods kindly. He has never been too good with words but now Seungkwan sounds miserable and Hansol feels even worse because there’s nothing in the world he can do to make it any better.
“Is that why you can’t fall asleep?”
Seungkwan blushes and his mouth falls down into a tight flat line. “Of course not, I’m not a baby.”
If Hansol has learnt anything about what Seungkwan is like in these past two years, it's that being not able to withstand hunger is probably bothering him more than the hunger itself.
He doesn’t need the diet plan, at least in Hansol’s opinion. He looks the best with a healthy glow on the shiny apples of his cheeks, but the company insists.
Hansol gets up to his feet and brushes off the back of his pants before offering his hand to Seungkwan. “Let’s go for a walk.”
It’s a little past 2 a.m. and it’s several hours past their curfew and if there was ever a stickler for rules, it’s Seungkwan, so he eyes Hansol’s extended hand with disapproval in his gaze.
“Why? Where are we going? It’s against the rules, you know that.” Seungkwan’s tone is distrusting and for some reason he ends up whispering.
“Only if they catch us,” Hansol whispers right back.
Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “That’s literally not the point of having rules in the first place.”
When Hansol’s shoulder starts to ache he reaches down to grab Seungkwan’s hand and pulls him up to his feet and guides Seungkwan out of the bathroom. There’s a hint of resistance but Seungkwan doesn’t tug his hand away.
“If we get caught I’m going to shave your head while you’re sleeping,” Seungkwan hisses.
“That sounds fair.”
The punishment for breaking curfew is a hundred push-ups and an extra hour spent practicing after a good old fashioned scolding so it’s a proportionate enough threat.
Hansol drops Seungkwan’s hand to dig around his bunk bed until he fishes out his wallet and Seungkwan thankfully stands beside him quietly for the entirety of it. From across the room Junhui rolls over and mumbles something into his pillow, and they hold a shared breath but Junhui goes right back to sleep. Aside from the little scare in the bedroom earlier, they make it outside safely, without tripping over dirty laundry and flip-flops discarded in the hallway.
Once they’re out in the cold, biting air, Seungkwan pulls his hand out of Hansol’s grasp. “Now will you please just tell me where we’re going?”
“Not far. C’mon,” Hansol replies, trudging past Seungkwan. He shoves his hands into the front pocket of his hoodies, to shield them from the cold, but also because strangely, he misses the warmth of Seungkwan’s hand a little.
Seungkwan mutters something like not even being able to cry in peace, but follows Hansol in the end.
Seungkwan looks a little red in the face when he figures out where they’re headed. It doesn’t take too long, only a short five-minute walk down the street and around the corner. The glowing neon sign of the convenience store falls on Seungkwan’s face and amplifies his annoyance.
“Didn’t think you’d drag me out just to torture me, but here we are.”
“Woah, we’re only here for ice cream so calm down.”
Seungkwan’s chin trembles a little, and his eyes look wistfully towards the store windows, but still, he takes a step back in the direction they came from.
“Just this once it’s okay,” Hansol tells him gently.
He reaches out and pulls on the hem of Seungkwan’s hoodie sleeves to drive the point home. Little white lies, especially when they’re told in the dead of the night, don't hurt anyone.
“Will you at least wait for me, please?”
After a pause Seungkwan nods stiffly and Hansol beams at him, relief washing through him. He hurries inside to pick out what he wants, fearing Seungkwan will be gone if he takes too long.
Seungkwan is no longer standing where Hansol had left him when Hansol returns. His heart sinks a little but then someone calls out his name from the other side of the street, his heart stumbles right back up to his throat and he spots Seungkwan sitting on the swing set in the playground from across the street.
It's the smallest playground in the neighbourhood so it’s the bare minimum, a typical one: a sandbox, a swing set, a few seesaws and a lonely slide stuck in the coarse sand. The sand gets into Hansol’s shoes when he makes his way over to Seungkwan and takes a seat on the swing next to him.
Seungkwan doesn’t look at him, only scuffs at the ground with his toes. Hansol grabs the twin ice cream bar and rips open the wrapper. It’s the kind all the members are used to buying the most, simply because it’s cheaper to buy one and share it.
When Hansol had just moved into the dorms, he had been terribly homesick. The little voice messages his sister used to leave on his phone only made it worse, and Seungkwan had been the one to find Hansol curled up on his small bunk bed, eyes red and face flushed from crying. Like soothing a small child, Seungkwan had pulled him closer, and when Hansol had finally calmed down, Seungkwan marched him down to this very store and bought them both ice cream. They had sat on the short wall of the sandbox until the wind cooled down Hansol’s reddened cheeks, and he was laughing at some impression Seungkwan was doing. So this feels familiar, except he’s glad to be the one offering Seungkwan comfort this time around.
Hansol holds on to one stick and extends it towards Seungkwan, holding it out like an olive branch. Right when Hansol starts to think Seungkwan just might leave him hanging after all, Seungkwan holds the ice cream by the stick closest to him and twists off one popsicle.
Hansol smiles to himself, watching Seungkwan take a small nibble off the top. That’s another one of Seungkwan’s traits he could never understand: biting cold food and the willingness to commit such a sin against both ice cream and his teeth. But now, relief swells and blooms in his heart as he watches Seungkwan take another small bite.
“Wow, would you look at that, the world didn’t even end or anything.”
Seungkwan glances sideways at him, shooting him a glare, but it’s got no real heat behind it so Hansol sticks his tongue out at him. It’s too dark to see it clearly but Hansol likes to think that there’s a bit more colour in Seungkwan’s cheeks now.
“You should talk to Seungcheol hyung. You know he won’t hesitate to talk to the management.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Hansol raises one eyebrow and fixes Seungkwan with a pointed stare. “You’ve been skipping dinner for how long now? It’s been almost a month. That’s not… cool.”
Seungkwan snorts. “That’s one way to put it.” After a moment’s pause he sighs loudly and continues. “You don’t know what it’s like to be me. Sometimes, I wish you knew what that was like.”
Of course, Hansol would never know what it’s like to be Seungkwan: to be able to commandeer the attention of a room the way Seungkwan could or to be able to string together the stars with his voice every time he sang. He would never know what it was like to still hold such untainted innocence like a treasured gift in his heart. But then again, Hansol knows that’s not really what this is about.
Hansol’s used to people fawning over how he looks. When he was younger everyone pinched his cheeks and called him pretty and when he grew older, catching up to the big wide features and sharper lines of his face, people gushed and called him handsome. He sees all of it in his reflection, but it’s hard to see the finer details. He doesn’t think they should matter all that much. Not when all that should really matter is that he sweats, trains, and works hard just as much as any other trainee in the company.
“You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to be you, none of us do, but we all care about you. Doesn’t that count for something? You don’t need to keep doing this.”
“But I want to, Hansol, that’s what you don’t understand.”
The metal rungs of the chains grind together when Hansol shifts to angle himself towards Seungkwan. “Then tell me why.”
“Because no matter how well I sing, or how much better I get at dancing, they will never see me unless I do this. I want to be seen, I need them to see me.” Seungkwan’s voice catches in his throat, tripping over the words at the end. “I want all of this crap we’re putting up with to be worth it and if this is what it takes, so be it.”
Seungkwan finishes with a long shuddering breath and tips his head up to the stars and blinks several times. The shadows marr his face, but the moisture in the corner of his eye still glistens like a crystal.
“For what it’s worth, I see you. All of you,” Hansol says softly, a mere whisper drifting in the air.
Seungkwan smiles at him finally, a faint, mellow thing, all too easy to miss in the blink of an eye. The only sound in the air are the mismatched squeaks of the swings as they both sway back and forth slowly. Then, Seungkwan pushes off the ground harder and begins to swing higher.**
Hansol hasn’t ridden a swing in a long time. When he was younger he would kick his feet on the ground hard and then tilt back and forth, rocking until he felt as though he was flying. Of course, he never took flight, but it’s how his heart felt like it would explode that mattered.
But now there are times when that feeling will return, even with his feet planted firmly on the ground. His chest will swell so large that he'll be scared it'll burst inside of him. It happens with no warning, but all Hansol knows is that Seungkwan is the culprit that sets off the hair trigger.
And right now the smile Seungkwan offers him is entirely too soft around the edges and it’s making Hansol’s heart hurt and his lungs feel cold, as if he had inhaled clouds. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised because after all, choosing to fly this close to the sun can only result in a plummeting fall, and maybe Hansol had been foolish to think that he could be an exception.
______
Hansol used to think that the light at the end of their long training period would be glorious, but now that it’s finally their debut day he’s so nervous that his mind has gone numb.
There’s nothing glorious about it at all, only fear masked with heavy eyeliner and his pores suffocating under the thick coat of foundation they lather on his face.
Seungkwan buzzes around like a bee trapped in a glass jar. He keeps singing loud vocal exercises in the small waiting room and Hansol can see that it sets everyone on edge but no one wants to call Seungkwan out on it and sour the mood and mess with their chemistry before what is quite possibly the most important performance of their lives.
While they’re waiting backstage in the darkness Seungkwan fumbles between the members to find Hansol and hold his hand like a vice. His hand is trembling and it's clammy and cold, but Hansol still interlaces their fingers until the very last second before they have to run out on stage.
______
A little less than a year after their debut, the world changes with a loud bang of confetti as the MC announces that Seventeen has placed first on Showchampion.
Hansol feels as though someone had dunked him in a vat of thick, viscous goo and every motion he makes only moves through the air delayed and in slow motion.
The fans scream so loud in the audience that everything else melts into the background of his mind and somewhere in the midst of it, Seungkwan is ending their final thank you speech.
Seungcheol’s big eyes glisten with tears and Jihoon has gotten himself mostly under control by the time they get offstage. Soonyoung however, Soonyoung cries like a baby and maybe when Hansol’s brain finally catches up to the rest of himself, maybe then he will too.
They’ve only had a few company dinners before. The first had been when their debut was finalised, and they received their rings, the other was the night of their debut, and once after they wrapped up their Adore U promotions successfully.
Halfway to the restaurant, reality crashes down on Hansol like a bucket of ice-cold water being dunked on his head. Next to him Seungkwan still bleeds excitement, his pent-up energy leaking out and making it feel as though the hair on Hansol’s arms were standing up.
Thankfully the interior of the vehicle is dark enough so Hansol leans over and puts his head between his knees and digs his knuckles into his eyes to stop tears from spilling over his lashes and onto his cheeks. Seungkwan reaches over, rubbing soothing circles on his back until Hansol can drag in a substantial breath of air into his lungs before rising back up. Seungkwan pulls his hand away before it gets crushed behind Hansol and instead it finds purchase on Hansol’s knee like it’s second nature.
No one holds back when ordering food because tonight their manager is equipped with the company’s shiny black card and there's a small thrill in trying to create even a small dent on their account.
Hansol’s technically not allowed to drink yet but it’s a private room and their table is long and wide enough that anyone who would actually care is separated from them by those who’re more focused on their free food or their alcohol. Junhui slides two glasses full of suspiciously light coloured coke towards Seungkwan and Hansol; not the best mix, but they grab the glasses without a complaint. Chan watches it all go down from across the table with narrowed eyes, shooting them a dirty glare but thankfully does not snitch on them to the rest of the table.
It’s not his first sip of alcohol and neither is it Seungkwan’s, but he still sports a traitorous blush over his cheeks and the gentle slope of his nose, while Hansol feels mostly fine, aside from the fact that he just gets fixated on that soft peach colour filling out Seungkwan’s soft features.
The ride home is easier, adrenaline crashing heavily and mixing with the not yet fully depleted alcohol in his system and making the world mellow out.
Once they’re dropped off at the dorm it’s clear that no one has any idea of going to sleep any time soon, despite having had a severe clear lack of it. It’s noisy and chaotic as all the members call home or call their friends. Hansol manages to wedge himself into the laundry room and call his father. Through the static of the phone his father's voice, roughened already by sleep, breaks and Hansol manages to speak out a few more words with his throat tightening around every syllable. Promises are exchanged back and forth, the moment not leaving any room for his parents nor Hansol to worry about whether they may be able to keep their promises once the round of promotions are over and there’s enough time for everyone to go back home and catch their breath.
By the time the house settles and Hansol drags himself up into his bunk bed the sky is fading from its dark blue hue to a lighter tone. A few hours later the managers will show up at the dorm, and they will rinse and repeat today’s schedule, and hopefully replicate today’s win, although that’s only a faint dream wedging itself in the back of his tired brain.
Hansol is startled out of the daze when the bed frame shakes and the wooden steps of the ladder creak before Seungkwan’s head pops into view. It’s a common enough occurrence so Hansol automatically scoots aside, pressing himself up against the cold wall with no questions asked. Seungkwan tumbles down next to him gracelessly, sharp points of his limbs digging into the sensitive skin below Hansol’s ribs and the back of his knee.
“I’m too worked up to sleep. My heart feels like it’s going to burst,” Seungkwan says once he settles into a more comfortable position. His entire side is pressed tight against Hansol’s. “Tomorrow-– today’s prerecording is going to be a bitch. I think my voice is gone.”
The bunk creaks once more when Seungkwan rolls over onto his side. Hansol can feel his shining gaze on the side of his face, so he rolls over too, facing Seungkwan.
“Seriously, this is either heartburn or Jun hyung laced that drink with something stronger than soju. Here, feel it,” Seungkwan says, grabbing Hansol’s hand and pressing it against his chest. Seungkwan’s heart beats steadily under Hansol’s palm and his own heartbeat doubles in time like the traitor it is.
“Feels like a good heart,” Hansol mutters. “Very healthy, like a horse.”
Seungkwan gives him an odd look. “Don’t tell me I have a horse heart, that’s so rude.”
Whenever Hansol gets embarrassed, and he finds himself struggling to find his footing in a situation, he has a bad habit of letting himself ramble and surprisingly, even to him, his horse related trivia knowledge turns out to be far more extensive than he had initially realised, so he ends up talking nonsense for several minutes until Seungkwan claps his hand over Hansol’s mouth.
Hansol stares at Seungkwan with wide eyes. Seungkwan’s eyes curve into pretty crescents when he lets out a soft laugh. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”
If Seungkwan’s hand burns with the heat spreading across Hansol’s face, he doesn’t show any indication of it in his face. Seungkwan leaves his hand resting gently on the soft swell of Hansol’s cheek, thumb brushing across the apple of his cheek with the gentlest of touches. It’s an absent-minded gesture, one that’s familiar to them, but the world feels off kilter since last night so Hansol freezes under the touch before melting into it.
Getting a taste of victory, that one small glimpse into what the world could be for them, makes Hansol feel like it’d be worth taking a chance on a pipe dream, so he leans forward to catch Seungkwan in a kiss.
It’s turning out to be a night full of firsts, but this isn’t how first kisses were supposed to happen. For one, there are no fireworks bursting under his eyelids, and it doesn’t taste sweet the way those protagonists in movies claimed, so all in all Hansol feels a little lied to. And even though Seungkwan’s lips are soft against his, he has gone terrifyingly still against Hansol. Everything tells him to run when he pulls away, but with the wall against his back and Seungkwan blocking his exit, he’s trapped.
Hansol’s voice cracks when he blurts out an apology. “Oh god, I’m sorry. That was– this is weird, sorry.”
And maybe, if it were light outside, and their house wasn’t deathly silent, maybe then Hansol could brush it off as a joke, and they would move on. But for once Seungkwan is completely speechless, and he only stares at Hansol with even wider eyes, round like coins and incredibly transparent.
Hansol’s not ready for it when Seungkwan crosses over into his orbit. He holds his breath and feels his pulse race beneath the sensitive skin behind his ear. Seungkwan’s lips are just as soft as before, except they fit against Hansol’s own a bit better this time, hesitant and shy but the pressure is firm enough.
Seungkwan pulls away and smacks Hansol on the arm very hard and pouts. “Give me some warning next time, asshole.”
Hansol’s heart feels like it’s doing some unhealthy acrobatics inside his rib cage when it catches on to those words, the promise of there being a next time. The place on his arm where Seungkwan’s punch had landed throbs less than pleasantly so Hansol rubs at it and says pointedly, “Kind of giving me mixed signals here, Kwan.”
Seungkwan colours up prettily even in the dim lighting. “Shut up. First you call me a horse, and then you kiss me. God, you’re impossible.”
Hansol grins at Seungkwan. “It’s only your heart, I swear. And you kissed me too, so now we’re even.”
“I hate you,” Seungkwan mutters under his breath. If Seungkwan is really mad, then he would have already stormed off, but he only grabs Hansol’s blanket roughly and turns his back on him.
Hansol rolls over onto his back with a breathless laugh. He listens to the soft falls of Seungkwan’s breathing, a little rushed at first but slowly evening out to deeper ones.
Maybe this will be one of their many unspoken agreements, both of them pretending as if nothing ever happened. Like how Hansol knows Seungkwan had scrubbed the bathroom floor with Mingyu’s toothbrush after a nasty argument but will never let the secret slip, or the fact that Seungkwan always keeps quiet when Hansol ‘borrows’ from their sacred swear jar when he runs out of change.
Or maybe their friendship will never be the same again. It’s too terrifying of a thought to even entertain for a few seconds.
In the darkness, Hansol can only barely make out the patterns made by the mold on the ceiling. Sometimes when he can’t fall asleep, he’ll imagine all the different things they could be: animals, vehicles, a few pop stars from the early 2000s. It’s his own version of watching clouds and although it doesn’t even come close to the real thing, it's still entertaining enough.
Tonight he tries connecting the dots once more, lining them up to give them coherence one last time before he falls asleep, but they’re only patches of mold, and that’s all they’ll ever be. The same way Hansol can only ever be himself, with his messy, messy emotions, and no matter how much he squints or twists his neck to find a better angle, his reality isn’t going to change. As final as that thought is, Seungkwan radiates very real warmth through every point of contact between their bodies, so maybe it’s time to accept that he is also undeniably a part of Hansol’s reality, like the roots of a tree that splits fissures down the middle of a rock until they meet the earth and make it their home.