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“Do you know what your problem is, Soonyoung?” Jihoon says, in a slightly amused slur. Soonyoung might take the sixth? seventh? bottle from him, but it’s New Year’s Eve. And it’s Jihoon.
“Do I get a choice in hearing this reply?” Soonyoung sighs, taking a swig from his own bottle, knowing he’s getting an answer anyway.
“You always build this big intricate picture and miss the scene playing out right under your nose. Every. Single. Time.”
“Sorry I try to leave my previous relationship baggage at the start of every new one. Promise it won’t happen again,” Soonyoung laughs, mirthless, “to no fresh starts this year! We’re carrying every ounce of our junk forevermore!” He raises his bottle and tips into the night, into the cold air of the city sprawled beneath them.
“Idiot,” Jihoon punches his shoulder, “you know that’s not what I mean,”
“Then what do you mean? You told me so? Yes you did. You knew he was no good? Yes you did. You knew I’d get hurt again? Yes you did. What else am I missing?” Soonyoung says, counting off his fingers, “You know what Jeonghan hyung and Shua hyung got up to in Paris that got them banned from the Moulin Rouge? Please share,”
“I’d never share that with you,” Jihoon replies automatically.
“Unbelievable,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath. Has he really known this person since elementary school?
“I just mean, open your eyes, there are people here who— god, fuck,” Jihoon says in despair when Soonyoung widens his eyes to the circumference of their beer bottles, more creepy than comical; in Jihoon’s previous words. “You just can’t be normal, can you?”
“This Kwon Soonyoung? Or another Kwon Soonyoung?” Soonyoung’s bottle is removed from his grasp. “You know it’s impossible.”
Warmth drapes over Soonyoung’s shoulder and despite his scowl, he leans into it.
“Right, my bad,” Jihoon steps away to make space for Wonwoo between them.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to be cheering me up? I did just get my heart broken.”
“Pish,” Jihoon scoffs, “heartbreak is for when you care. You went on, like, maybe four dates.”
“Yeah,” Soonyoung says quietly, pouting a little. He wasn’t in love with Youngsoo.
But finding out he was just a side fling and Youngsoo had a long term boyfriend didn’t exactly feel great. Especially when he’d just been on the other end of it, when the last serious relationship he’d been in ended with his partner cheating on him.
Soonyoung does try to leave past hurts where they belong but at some point you have to wonder if it’s you or just your luck. He is starting to think, with a churning at the pit of his stomach, it may be the former for him.
“Anyway,” Wonwoo says, returning Soonyoung’s drink to him, “we’re here to forget all that tonight, remember?”
“Speaking of that, can you take the next babysitting shift? I need a refill,” Jihoon stares forlornly into the depth of his now drained bottle.
“Babysitting?” Soonyoung says, injured, as Wonwoo says, “Sure,” and squeezes Soonyoung’s shoulders.
“Mingyu is looking for you, by the way,” Wonwoo adds as Jihoon turns to leave, “said something about the countdown being close,”
“Did he,” Jihoon says flatly, but Soonyoung doesn’t miss the turn of his lips, or the gleam in his eyes, “thanks.”
“Wonwoo-yah, be honest,” Soonyoung appeals as they’re left alone. The commotion of the party behind the balcony doors gets louder, almost drowning out his words. The undercurrent of excitement coming from inside grows with each second the turn of the new year draws nearer (proportionate to the amount of alcohol consumed) but there are more pressing matters on Soonyoung’s mind, more pathetic, desperate matters, fueled by an existential churning that festers instead of waning as time goes.
He angles himself closer to Wonwoo and looks his best friend in the eye to log his honest reaction.
“Is there something wrong with me? Like, seriously? Do I do too much? Do I not do enough to be promising? Am I unlikeable as a person? Do I have to change? But where do I start? What is it? I’m going to die alone, aren’t—“
A sudden burst of cheers erupts and the sky starts to explode in fleeting sparkling colours and a cacophony of honking cars and yelling people fill up the streets below them and Soonyoung registers none of it because there are warm, bitten lips on his own and cold hands cupping his cheeks.
His eyes close instinctively, even as the internal question rises, Wonwoo? What is this? Wonwoo? and he doesn’t break away as Wonwoo kisses him in short, sweet, chaste bouts, just a press of lips on each other again and again, but Soonyoung is held tenderly and the kiss is infused with an overload of the comfort and rightness of fitting together that’s always been unspoken between them.
His eyes remain closed when Wonwoo pulls away, lips tingling, a personal spark-show playing behind his eyelids.
Soonyoung feels soaked in champagne, in light, in a million pinpricks of oh, oh, oh, like registering his heartbeat for the first time, the rhythm changed, louder, defiant, encompassing.
Eyes fluttering open, “Oh?” Soonyoung says, confused, appeased.
“Yeah,” Wonwoo says, smiling softly. “Happy New Year, Soonyoung-ah. To better luck this year, and a break for your poor heart.”
“What break,” Soonyoung says slowly, thoughts suddenly fogged with… with the residue of the kiss. With Wonwoo. Kiss? Wonwoo? Him?
Soonyoung’s brain may have broken. How do those words fit together in a sentence?
“Sorry,” Soonyoung blurts out, irritating the back of his neck as he rubs, red-faced. He really got so pitiful his best friend had to resort to drastic distraction measures. The humiliation has no endpoint.
“For what?”
“Uh, what I said? Everything? It was ugly.”
Wonwoo shrugs, grin obnoxious, “Nothing I haven’t seen before with you.” The humour is juxtaposed with the way he draws Soonyoung into him again, head nestled gently on his shoulder, a flush dusting his own cheeks.
Soonyoung’s not drunk and despite the unflinching mess he’s shown himself to be tonight, he doesn’t really want to be anymore. It’s nice like this. Watching the sky explode in showers of colour, listening to the steady screech of the fireworks as they go off and people clap, Wonwoo’s arms slung low on his waist, fingers resting warmly on his hip, a familiar resting place.
It’s always nice like this, sharing a bubble with Wonwoo, creating another tile in the collage of moments and memories that have shaped the unflagging thing that lives in the synapse of their beings. Thing; shoulder-shaped port, Wonwoo-scented refuge. Friendship.
Them, inimitable as a fingerprint.
“Honestly?” Wonwoo starts into the stillness between them, delicate, resolved, “I hate to see you hurt, I hate to see you doubt yourself.” Perhaps the gruffness comes from the short silence, perhaps it’s the words he’s trying to carefully dislodge, but he clears his throat, fingers drumming where they are on Soonyoung’s hip, a tendency driven by nerves. Soonyoung’s fingers settle over his—a feedback tendency.
“Sometimes, Soonyoung-ah, things don’t work because people are fundamentally incompatible. You’ve never done anything wrong by being yourself. You don’t need to change anything and it sucks that you were made to think that you do.” The flush on Wonwoo’s cheeks has only deepened but the fire in his eyes, the conviction in his words, they, too, harden as he speaks and Soonyoung’s heart starts to feel like it’s levitating in his chest, like he’s still drunk off the residue of the kiss.
“But if you need to say those things aloud to get them out of your head, you can say them to me. Because you know I still love you no matter what. You’ll never doubt that, right? You can cry and be hurt and do whatever you need to let it out. Just… I’m here? And… so are our friends… So… no. You are not going to die alone Kwon Soonyoung.”
Soonyoung is out of emotional masks tonight. A little fractured, a lot overcome, he rests forward on Wonwoo’s chest and mumbles, “Do I deserve you?”
“No,” Wonwoo laughs quietly, “but I’ll overlook it if you let us go inside, I can’t feel my fingers anymore.”
Huh, Soonyoung thinks. He may have the worst luck when it comes to dating and relationships. And true, his instincts suck and enthusiasm always trumps his caution, true Jihoon is always right, which might be worse than everything else combined. But at least he’ll always have this.
It’s not so bad.