Work Text:
⊰ i ⊱
the hot chocolate is definitely cold by now. the textured surface of the white styrofoam cup in his hand no longer radiates a heat that nips at the pads of his fingers. he frowns at the cartoon cow on the cup as if he can guilt it into making the hot chocolate hot again. if this were another world, another universe, it might have worked. his eyes are a formidable opponent according to seungkwan—who insists on regaling almost drunk university students at house parties about the time seokmin “hypnotized the waiter into bringing five extra portions of pork belly with a glance.” they’re usually tipsy enough that they accept the obviously exaggerated anecdote with snorts of amusement and, to seokmin’s embarrassment, acknowledgment of his puppy-like prowess.
“mister cow......”
a sigh escapes his lips as he resigns himself to drinking his second cup of hot chocolate of the morning—and it’s only 8:47am. he tosses the empty cup into a trash bin and listlessly gathers his things on the bench. this has never happened before, and seokmin can feel a mixture of disappointment and worry rumble through his chest. he’s aware of how he feels but doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so he blames the ache of his stomach on the hot chocolate.
he takes his phone out of his pocket and fiddles around on it until he reaches a chat with the contact name listed as “😇😈”. seokmin, known for the perpetual hint of a smile on his face, uncharacteristically frowns at the phone’s screen. his frown deepens (if that's even possible) when he notices what time it is—8:55am. he frantically sends a message with more typos than actual coherent words and begins to make his way to the other side of the campus.
the frown remains even after he enters his first and favorite lecture of the day; even after minghao slides his half-eaten strawberry cream puff in front of him with a worried look; and even after mingyu knocks his head softly against seokmin’s, his finger prodding at the mole on his cheek. he’s doesn’t react to any of it. instead, his focus is on the mounted blackboard at the front of the room. the two stare at the spaced-out-and-frowning seokmin then give each other a glance, mingyu with his brow raised in question and minghao simply mouthing “jeonghan” in answer.
⊰ ii ⊱
yoon jeonghan is capable of doing a lot of unsavory things, but when he makes a promise, he keeps it (almost stubbornly, seokmin thinks.) three months ago, he showed up at the movie theater with a scraped and bloody elbow, sweat clinging to his brow, and stated between breaths that he would pay for today’s movie tickets as if nothing was wrong. with wide eyes and no hesitation, seokmin dragged him back to his apartment; and when jeonghan told him that he had tripped down several steps, rushing to get to to the theater first so he could pay for the tickets, all seokmin could do was call him an idiot. he had never seen jeonghan look as offended as he did that day.
so when he doesn’t show up to meet seokmin in the courtyard before class, seokmin finds himself conflicted. technically, there was never a promise verbalized for this habit of theirs. it was just an unspoken thing that happened when jeonghan’s morning schedule matched his, even before they started dating. seokmin convinces himself it’s not that big of a deal despite his gut telling him otherwise. he has poor instincts. everyone knows that.
but this time, he’s on to something.
seven hours and 30 messages later, the ever-diligent seokmin begs minghao to answer for him during their last class’s roll call. he actually doesn’t really need to beg because as soon as he tells minghao he needs a favor, he’s quietly shooed away and given a thumbs up. as he hurries to the main street to hail a cab, he reminds himself to buy minghao several bottles of wine.
⊰ iii ⊱
being called a grandma’s boy is not the insult a lot of people think it is. when seokmin became interested in cooking, with jeonghan as his unfortunate test subject, it was his grandma who taught him how to make the perfect congee. the first time he made it without her help, jeonghan was in tip-top shape... at least before that dinner... he hopes he didn't traumatize him too badly. the congee this time is meant to heal jeonghan, not kill him.
seokmin owed a lot to his grandmother, explaining his attachment to her and explaining why seokmin came out to her first. he remembers it being the middle of summer with jeonghan walking hand-in-hand with him, arms pressed together, despite the sticky heat of the afternoon. he had asked jeonghan earlier if he felt uncomfortable in the heat with seokmin so close to him. jeonghan didn’t reply, and seokmin didn’t push him to, accepting jeonghan’s tightening grip as an answer. when they were a block away from his grandma’s complex, jeonghan stopped walking and told seokmin he was scared. his voice was quiet, and he refused to look at anything, or anyone, except for the landscape in front of him. it was seokmin’s first time seeing jeonghan so nervous, his first time realizing just how deep into his heart jeonghan had ingrained himself, his first time telling jeonghan he loved him.
seokmin smiles at the memory and turns the dial on the stove to shut off the flame. he peeks at the sink to see what the collateral damage is, and the sight makes his face contort: cooking, he’s good at, but cleaning? a whole different territory. jeonghan must notice the look on seokmin’s face because the silence suddenly fills with his laughter. the sound is sweet and soft, melting against seokmin’s tongue as he laughs with him.
⊰ iv ⊱
in a large group of friends, there's always one person willing to spend more than three hours with you at a karaoke bar because your musical theory dissertation is giving you an existential crisis. not to say the others weren’t more than ready to be that person, but it was a role only jeonghan could fill. he couldn’t find the words to explain why jeonghan occupied a space separate from everyone else in his heart.
he was drowning in the depth of this nameless feeling, sinking lower each time his breath stuttered at jeonghan’s casual touch, each time jeonghan made an inside joke only the two of them could understand.
then jeonghan kissed him, and the sea of warmth that spread through seokmin’s chest whispered its name in his ears.
⊰ v ⊱
seokmin wants to sneeze. he feels a ticklish sensation run across the bottom of his nose. despite the imaginary protests of his heavy eyelids, he opens his eyes to the sight of light brown hair tucked just under his nose. the color reminds him of a field of cattails wishing the autumn day a good night. some of the strands skim against the lower part of his face at the smallest hint of movement, and seokmin figures that’s why he feels like sneezing. it pulls a sigh of relief out of him. if jeonghan’s complaints last night turned out to be well-founded, he’s sure it will be brought up when he least expects it:
“remember the time you insisted on sleeping with an obviously sick me, only for you to end up just as sick the next morning?”
he pulls back slightly to take in jeonghan’s features, a rococo painting brought to life by the rosiness of his cheeks and the soft curve of his parted lips. he can feel the rise and fall of jeonghan’s chest as he breathes, the warmth of his breath chastely kissing seokmin’s skin. most of jeonghan’s weight settles on him instead of the bed, but he doesn’t find it uncomfortable. they lay against each other like two halves of a whole, and it couldn’t feel more right.
“you’re staring…”
caught, seokmin startles as jeonghan lazily nuzzles his nose into the crook of his neck. he can’t tell if it’s the affectionate gesture or the surprise that causes his heart to beat just a little faster but, at the very least, he knows he can blame it on jeonghan. he feels the warmth leave him as jeonghan pushes himself up and stretches his arms above his head, a yawn leaving his lips. when jeonghan looks back, seokmin’s expression mirrors his, a gentle smile and loving eyes.
later in the kitchen, seokmin smugly (and cheesily) professes that his love is stronger than any germ on the planet. jeonghan replies with a roll of his eyes and mumbles an affectionate “idiot” under his breath, to which seokmin just smiles and says what he always does in a situation like this:
“yeah, but i’m your idiot.”