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"Yeah, so," Hwanwoong says, swaying forward on the balls of his feet, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. He lets out a breath of a laugh that fogs in the cold air, the cloud of it wafting in front of his face. "I guess I'll see you around."
Jaehyun nods sheepishly, his own hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and half his face hidden behind the navy scarf wrapped around his neck.
Hwanwoong really doesn't know what the etiquette is here. As much as he's tried not to pin too much hope on maybe getting a kiss by the end of the evening, he can't deny the ache of disappointment when he realizes that's definitely off the table. Maybe a hug would be okay? Jaehyun's seemed pretty insistent on staying friends after all. Friends hug.
But after another moment of hesitation, Hwanwoong thrusts his mittened hand out instead, cheeks heating despite the cold. "Anyway, thanks for dinner."
Jaehyun lets out a quiet laugh, most of it muffled behind his scarf as he reaches out to take Hwanwoong's hand. "You're the one who paid, though."
"It's your birthday," he explains, not for the first time.
He doesn't bring up that it just also happens to be Valentine's Day, but he has a feeling Jaehyun's thinking about that too. How could he not?
"Still," Jaehyun says, his hand still wrapped around Hwanwoong's, firm and friendly. "Thank you. I mean it. I know this isn't..." Jaehyun trails off as he pulls his hand away. Hwanwoong can tell the smile on his face now is a little more forced. "Just. Thank you. I had a really nice time."
"Yeah," Hwanwoong replies, slipping his hand back into his pocket. His nose is starting to run thanks to the cold air, but he pastes on another smile of his own. "Me too."
//
The train ride back to his apartment is only twenty minutes and he manages to find a single seat at the very back of one of the cars, hiding himself away as best he can from the other passengers, many of whom are clearly couples also returning home from their (doubtlessly more successful) dinner dates. He tips his head against the cool glass window and tugs one hand free of his mitten before fishing his phone out of his pocket.
He only has a couple messages, both of which he'd seen just before meeting up with Jaehyun but hadn't had time to respond to: one from Keonhee wishing him good luck and two from Dongju with similar (if slightly ruder) emojis attached. He replies to his friends as succinctly as he can, ignoring the growing ball of disappointment in his belly as he fills them in on the failure of the evening.
And then there are the messages from his roommate.
[18:42] Youngjo: Hey!
[18:43] Youngjo: Got a surprise dinner for us tonight! 🌹
[18:45] Youngjo: Hurry I promise you won't be disappointed!
[19:13] Youngjo: Heading home soon?
[19:37] Youngjo: Woooooooong
[19:39] Youngjo: ????????
[19:51] Youngjo: Actually kinda worried now you ok?
Hwanwoong hadn't seen any of them until about halfway through his dinner with Jaehyun, the last one immediately sending him into a guilty panic before he'd hurriedly replied.
[20:11] Hwanwoong: Yes sorry ona date!!!
He stares at Youngjo's response now – a short and simple 'Oh! Have fun' followed by a small smile emoji – and somehow feels even worse. He really figured Youngjo would be working at the flower shop tonight given it's one of their busiest days of the year, hadn't thought there was any reason to let Youngjo know he may be out late. So not only has he had a pretty humiliating first date experience and is trudging home both kiss-less and still pathetically single, he's also managed to worry his roommate-slash-best friend, all in a matter of a few hours.
Fantastic.
//
All the lights are off when he lets himself into the apartment aside from the flickering glow of the television which Hwanwoong can just make out from the entryway. He slips his shoes off once the door has clicked closed behind him and makes his way through the kitchen, stomach cramping tightly when he notices the huge bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter.
For a moment, he almost stops to look for a card, curious to know who might be trying to romance his roommate. It's little odd for a girl to be sending flowers to a boy, but Youngjo doesn't tend to care too much about social normalities so any girl he might be interested in probably wouldn't be either.
And it's not his business anyway, Hwanwoong reminds himself, hurrying past. Just because he's had a crappy day doesn't mean he can wish the same upon someone else, especially Youngjo.
Despite what his stupid, jealous little heart wants to say about it.
He changes out of his coat and too-nice-to-not-have-been-kissed date clothes once he's in his room, ignoring a growing knot of questions the whole time. If someone gave Youngjo flowers today then why isn't he out on a date right now? Why had he gotten food for him and Hwanwoong instead? Hwanwoong knows Youngjo isn't currently seeing anyone; despite how private Youngjo is in general, Hwanwoong's absolutely sure he'd know at least that much. He'd know if Youngjo ever brought someone over for one thing, but Youngjo's too busy with the hours he puts in at the flower shop on top of his full-time gig at the art gallery that he doesn't have time for a relationship right now.
Maybe the flowers are just from a random admirer, someone Youngjo doesn't plan to indulge beyond his usual kind nature.
Yeah, that's.
Yeah.
Hwanwoong can handle that.
Feeling the tiniest bit better, he takes out his contacts and changes into his fuzziest pair of PJ pants along with his favorite oversized hoodie before grabbing his phone and padding back down the hall.
Youngjo's in his night clothes too, watching what looks like some kind of nature documentary as Hwanwoong, without a word, joins him on the couch. He stretches out, indulgently resting his head on Youngjo's thigh and tucking his knees up. The position smooshes the frame of his glasses against his face, but he can't bring himself to care right now.
"Hey," Youngjo says with a low, quiet laugh. "Welcome home."
"Mmm," is Hwanwoong's only response, a familiar pleasant hum rolling through him when Youngjo starts gently carding his fingers through Hwanwoong's hair.
"Didn't expect you back so soon. Have a nice date?"
Hwanwoong thinks about the bouquet in the kitchen and, for a moment, is extremely tempted to lie. Because maybe it's not that Youngjo isn't interested in anyone and more that he bought food to celebrate his no-longer-single status. Or maybe he'd been so excited about having a secret (or not-so-secret) admirer that he decided to splurge on dinner so he could tell Hwanwoong all about it.
But, aside from the fact that it's shitty to lie to a friend, he knows he'd eventually either have to come clean or invent some bigger, uglier lie to cover up his pathetic one and that just seems like way too much work.
Also, his heart is too sore and he's just. Tired.
So he lets out a sigh and shakes his head.
Youngjo's hand stills for just a moment before tucking a bit of hair behind Hwanwoong's ear. "Wanna talk about it?"
Weirdly, Hwanwoong kind of does. Both because he's long past the point of denying how much he craves Youngjo's comfort and affection, but also because maybe his tale of woe will put Youngjo off any desire to gloat.
"It wasn't, like, the worst date ever," he confesses, tucking one hand up close to his chin as he burrows further into Youngjo's thigh. "He's super hot so I had a good view the whole time. And he was really nice. Very apologetic."
"Apologetic?"
"Yeah. Turns out he's not quite ready to try the whole gay thing out in public. So."
"And it took him going out with you on Valentine's Day to figure that out?" Youngjo replies, and Hwanwoong might be imagining it, but he swears Youngjo almost sounds a little angry. Almost, of course. Because this is Youngjo, possibly the most unbothered person on the face of the planet.
"It's not really his fault," Hwanwoong says, feeling the urge to defend Jaehyun for some reason. "He said it was his friend's idea. Like, for this birthday."
"His present to himself was toying with a guy on Valentine's Day?"
Okay, definitely a little irritated. Hwanwoong turns his head to try to hide the smallest glimmer of a grin against Youngjo's thigh.
"More like a 'hey it's your birthday, you should do that thing you've always wanted to do but have been too scared to try' sort of thing," Hwanwoong explains once he's managed to temper his smile a little.
Youngjo doesn't respond, the pause long enough that Hwanwoong lifts his head and twists onto his back to check on him. There's a little furrow between his brows, his lips tugged down in a frown. His expression doesn't change any when he meets Hwanwoong's eyes.
"Okay," is all he says, dragging the word out a little bit. "I guess I can sort of get that, but... why you?"
"What do you mean why me?" Hwanwoong replies, his own tone clipped now as he reaches up to give Youngjo's kneecap a smack.
"No, I mean, like–" Youngjo's frown twists into a grimace, his cheeks pinking the tiniest amount as he shakes his head. "Stop it. That's not what I meant. I just don't understand why he had to pick you to mess with."
"I don't think he was trying to mess with me," Hwanwoong says, dropping his hands to his chest, his irritation cooling a bit. "I was the one who asked him out."
Youngjo blinks down at him.
"Oh."
Sometimes Hwanwoong thinks he knows everything about Youngjo. They met during enlistment, becoming fast friends who spent nearly every minute together, sharing duties and meals and – more than once – a single sleeping bag. They spent long, extremely boring days and nights talking about their pasts and their hopeful futures. So Hwanwoong knows stuff like how Youngjo decided to become an artist only after taking his first art history class in college, how Youngjo refuses to pick a favorite between cats and dogs, that he likes his coffee black, and sometimes talks in his sleep. That he would rather live in a tiny, crappy apartment in the middle of Seoul than in a house in the countryside and that sometimes he regrets not trying harder to become an idol.
He knows all that, but sometimes he doesn't have any idea what's going on in Youngjo's head at all.
"Oh," he echoes mockingly because the silence is getting to be too much. "Yes, believe it or not I am capable of asking out a cute boy all on my own."
Youngjo rolls his eyes and pokes Hwanwoong's cheek. "I'm fully aware of that."
Hwanwoong reaches up to grab Youngjo's hand, fingers curling around the close of his fist as he asks, "So who are the flowers from?"
He doesn't really know why he asks except that maybe he's a masochist or maybe, for once, he's tired of the attention being all on him. And maybe because he's just annoyingly curious.
Youngjo doesn't pull out of Hwanwoong's grasp, but rests their joined hands over Hwanwoong's chest.
"No one."
"Liar," Hwanwoong says, frowning.
"Someone ordered them at the shop, but never picked them up so I decided to bring them home."
Hwanwoong narrows his eyes. "Why wouldn't you just resell them?"
"No one's gonna want a Valentine's bouquet the day after Valentine's."
"Hmm. Still sounds like a lie."
"Why are you so skeptical?"
"You texted me at six! There's no way you worked at the shop today if you were already home by six."
"Who said I was here when I texted?"
"You said you ordered food."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did!" Hwanwoong insists, letting go of Youngjo's hand to grab his phone, tapping at the screen to pull up Youngjo's earlier text message.
Youngjo ignores him. "Even if did, I could have done that from the shop."
"Argh, fine! Don't tell me then!" Hwanwoong snaps, shoving Youngjo's arm away and sitting up abruptly. He accidentally drops his phone in the process and, annoyed, snatches it up off the floor in a huff before shoving his glasses back up his nose and cramming himself against the opposite end of the couch, as far away from Youngjo as possible.
He immediately buries himself in checking Twitter. Not that he cares what's on his timeline at all, he just needs to focus on something, anything, that isn't Youngjo lying to him, clearly keeping something from him.
There's another stretch of silence before Youngjo says, "Why are you so upset?"
"I'm not upset."
"You are very clearly upset," Youngjo responds. There's something almost fond but also condescending in his tone and Hwanwoong's temper flares.
"I don't understand why you're lying to me," he says, dropping his hands into lap, steadfastly ignoring the slight crack in his voice. "Do you think you'd be rubbing it in my face or something? The fact that you have dozens of girls throwing themselves at you all the time while I can barely even get a date? Or is it because you don't think it's my business which– fine, I guess I can respect that, but I just told you all about my disappointing date and you know how much I've always wanted to spend Valentine's Day with a cute boy who actually likes me. The least you can do is share something in return even if it's just a story about flowers from a girl you're not even interested in."
"They're for you."
"Why do you have to be so secretive and weird and–" Youngjo's response finally makes its way into his brain and Hwanwoong cuts himself off with a snap of his jaw.
Youngjo's frowning now. "What do you mean weird?"
Hwanwoong opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
"I didn't know you'd be on a date tonight," Youngjo continues like that's supposed to explain anything.
"I– what? Wait." Hwanwoong twists around on the couch again, facing Youngjo now with his legs crisscross apple sauce. He shakes a hand in front of his face, squinting at Youngjo. "Wait, back up. What do you mean they're for me?"
Youngjo's cheeks are red and the smile on his face looks pinched and awkward as he rubs at his temple.
Hwanwoong waves his hand again, growing more and more anxious. "Who are they from?"
"No one," Youngjo says. Hwanwoong narrowly resists the very strong urge to throw his phone at Youngjo's face.
"Stop it! They can't be from no one. Why didn't you just tell me they were for me??"
"Because I just–" Youngjo starts before cutting himself off another groan.
"Oh, fuck this," Hwanwoong growls, tossing his phone onto the couch and heading to the kitchen. If Youngjo won't tell him then he'll just find out for himself.
Except, as he soon comes to discover, there isn't any note tucked into the leaves of the bouquet. There's nothing under the vase either, nothing lying on the countertop beside it. It's just the flowers, at least a dozen beautiful red roses nestled in sprigs of green and white (baby's breath, he thinks, from what Youngjo's told him before), all carefully arranged in a large, clear vase. The whole thing is at least a foot and a half tall and smells amazing and why is there no note?
"Did someone drop this off?" he asks, pitching his voice loud enough for Youngjo to hear him from the other room. "What did they look like?"
"No one dropped it off," Youngjo says from directly behind him and Hwanwoong startles, whirling around to face him.
"Really? Someone just left it outside the door?"
"Woong," Youngjo says, his voice softer as his shoulders sag. "They're from me."
Hwanwoong blinks, the irritation and anxiety under his skin swiftly melting into something else, something quieter and heavier. Something a whole lot more like disappointment.
And embarrassment.
"Oh."
"I really didn't know you'd be on a date tonight."
"Right," Hwanwoong says, numbness starting to take over as he nods in understanding. "And you felt sorry for me. Of course."
"No, that's... that isn't it."
"I've never gotten pity flowers before," Hwanwoong continues with a sharp laugh, heat creeping up his neck. "Wow. I mean, I've never gotten flowers at all before. Like, outside of my birthday and high school graduation and for performances and stuff. Obviously. Roses seem like a bit much, but I guess it makes sense with the holiday and all."
"These aren't pity flowers."
"So what then? So you weren't lying about someone not picking up their order, but you thought, 'hey, I know, I'll give these to my sad sack of a roommate so his pathetic ass will have the foolish and empty idea that maybe eventually someone out there might, maybe actually like him.'"
"Woong, stop." Youngjo's voice is sharp, loud in a way Hwanwoong's sure he hasn't heard since they were discharged. Youngjo even seems surprised himself because he sucks in a breath and closes his eyes before adding in a quieter tone, "Please just listen to me."
Hwanwoong's fairly certain he doesn't want to hear whatever excuse Youngjo has for this, but the fact that Youngjo actually seems legitimately upset is enough to quiet him.
"Fine," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting his chin forward. "I'm listening."
Youngjo nods in response, then lets out a breath. His adam's apple bobs in his throat and he opens his mouth. Closes it again.
Hwanwoong rolls his eyes. "Why are you acting so nervous?"
"It was supposed to be a surprise," Youngjo says at the exact same time, their words overlapping. Youngjo frowns as he adds, "I'm not acting."
"Well, it worked, I'm surprised!"
"No, I mean–" Youngjo huffs, dropping one hand to his hip as he runs his other hand through his hair. "The whole night was supposed to be a surprise. I got dinner and made the bouquet because I wanted–"
"Wait, you made it? I thought you said someone ordered it."
"Well. Technically someone did," Youngjo says with a grimace. "I'm a someone."
"You made that," Hwanwoong says, pointing at the bouquet.
Youngjo frowns. "Yes."
"And you ordered dinner."
"I didn't. I told you that. I got some samgyeopsal at the store to grill for dinner. Together."
"Together," Hwanwoong echoes. There's an idea very slowly forming at the front of his mind now, one that seems completely unbelievable but is still far too alluring to completely ignore. Because Hwanwoong's had a lowkey but capital-lettered Thing for Youngjo since the day they met. And Youngjo's known Hwanwoong's into guys ever since about three months into their enlistment when he, homesick and overwhelmed and terrified, had unloaded on Youngjo during an overnight surveillance drill. Youngjo had listened and hugged him close and promised to stick with him no matter what. And he's kept that promise for all these years, never once making Hwanwoong feel wrong or gross or even a little bit weird.
And, in all that time, Youngjo's only ever dated girls.
Or, well. In all honesty, Youngjo hasn't dated much of anyone in the past two years, but when he has they've always been girls. Really pretty girls.
So any intrusive, annoying feelings Hwanwoong might have for Youngjo have been thoroughly pushed to the very back of his mind and his heart, locked away in a box very clearly marked 'DO NOT OPEN.' Because what matters more than anything is that Youngjo is his best friend. He refuses to do anything to jeopardize that.
"Together," Youngjo says again, his eyes locked on Hwanwoong's. He looks like he's searching Hwanwoong's face for something and Hwanwoong has absolutely no idea if he's finding it or not before he pulls in a breath and pushes on. "Like a date."
Hwanwoong's stomach flips.
"A date. Like... like a pity date."
"No," Youngjo says, his voice quiet but clear. "Not a pity date. A real one."
"But you... you're not..."
"I know," Youngjo says, something almost apologetic in his tone. "I should have said something before, but you're... you've always been so much braver than me with this kind of stuff. And for awhile I really thought I was just. I don't know. That I just liked you so much that all the other feelings made sense in, like, a platonic way."
Hwanwoong arches an eyebrow.
"I know it sounds stupid, okay? I know."
"It doesn't sound stupid," Hwanwoong says even though he can't say he completely understands. But Hwanwoong's sexuality crisis hit in middle school; he's had nearly a decade to figure things out whereas Youngjo's had... well, honestly, he has no idea how long. He's almost afraid to ask right now.
Youngjo only frowns, clearly wanting to argue the point as he shakes his head.
A small smile tugs at the corner of Hwanwoong's lips as he plays Youngjo's words over in his mind again. "You like me?"
This time, Youngjo laughs, though it's more a huff of breath than anything else.
"Like... like-like me, right? In a non-platonic way."
"An extremely non-platonic way," Youngjo answers, his voice low and surprisingly heated.
"Whoa. Okay," Hwanwoong says, nearly swaying from the sudden rush of warmth that washes over him. He lets out a sharp laugh and runs a hand through his hair.
"But I understand if you don't feel the same," Youngjo continues, lowering his gaze. "I, uh. I don't know really why, but I was sort of assuming you did. Or I guess I was just really really hoping. Either way, that's not like. It's not your problem. I didn't realize you were into someone else. We can pretend none of this ever happened if that's easier. I wasn't trying to make anything weird."
'I'm not into someone else,' Hwanwoong wants to say, but instead, "I like weird," is what comes out. "Weird sounds great."
Youngjo lets out another breath of a laugh. "I don't know if like– It's still all kind of a mess in my head, but I'm pretty sure I still like girls. Or maybe I only do in theory? I don't know. I've tried to think about other guys, too. Like... doing things with them that I think about doing with you and it's not. It's never really the same. So I don't know if that means I'm not really gay or even bi or if I'm just lying to myself about all of this or what."
Youngjo's face is red as the roses in his bouquet now and Hwanwoong's pretty sure he's forgotten how to breathe entirely.
"You've thought about doing things with me?" he says, his voice shaking on a whisper.
"So many things," Youngjo says, lips tugging into an embarrassed smile. "That's probably weird, sorry. I've just been trying to figure it all out and I don't know that I really have yet, but I do know I like you. I like you so much. More than I've ever liked anyone."
"I've been trying not to be in love with you for literal years," Hwanwoong says with a helpless laugh.
Youngjo's face falls. "Oh."
"I don't know that it's been working," Hwanwoong adds quickly, dropping his arms from where he's had them wrapped so tightly around himself and finally takes a step toward Youngjo. "Just to be clear."
"So you want to like me?"
"I already like you, you enormous idiot," Hwanwoong says, full on smiling now as he closes more of the space between them. "I've been trying not to love you because I didn't want to spend my entire life pining after a straight guy."
Youngjo's still looking at him like he's trying to figure something out. Like he's trying to figure Hwanwoong out, maybe. Hwanwoong's not quite sure what to do with that.
So he reaches out to hook Youngjo's pointer finger with his own, carefully twining their fingers.
"I might still be straight," Youngjo confesses, lips still tugged in a frown. "Or mostly straight. I don't really know, that's what I'm trying to tell you."
"But you like me," Hwanwoong says, clinging to that like a lifeline now that he has it.
"Yes."
"You planned a dinner date and made me a bouquet."
"Yes."
With a twist of his wrist, Hwanwoong slides his fingers between Youngjo's so they're palm to palm and steps in closer. "You've thought about doing non-platonic things with me."
"Yes."
He drops his voice slightly, lets his gaze drop to Youngjo's mouth. "Dirty, filthy, super sexual things with me."
Youngjo's lips quirk into a smile and he lets out a laugh, glancing down at their hands before giving Hwanwoong's a light squeeze. "Definitely yes."
Hwanwoong's smile softens and he lifts his other hand to Youngjo's side. Touching Youngjo is nothing new. Not even this is unusual, holding hands and crowding right up into Youngjo's space. He's been doing this for years.
But it's never felt quite as charged as this. Now that Hwanwoong's gotten the tiniest glimpse of hope he's ravenous for more.
"Did you have a note?" he asks.
Youngjo lifts his gaze up from Hwanwoong's mouth and tips his head in confusion.
"With the flowers. Did you write a note?"
"Oh," says Youngjo. "No. I was planning to give them to you in person so I didn't think I needed one."
"So what was your plan?" Hwanwoong asks with a tilt of his head, fully teasing now. "Were you just gonna be like, 'here's a bunch of flowers you should date me.'"
"Well, I was planning on asking," Youngjo says, laughing as he curls his arm around Hwanwoong's waist, drawing him closer. And yes, this is definitely different from all the ways they've touched before. This feels intimate. Hwanwoong's almost dizzy from it. "'Here's a bunch of flowers, what do you think about dating me?'"
"Yes."
"Yes?" Youngjo responds, grinning.
"Yes. I'd love to date you," Hwanwoong says, realizing belatedly that they've started swaying together, like they're dancing to some imaginary song. "What else?"
Youngjo laughs again. God, he's beautiful. "What do you mean what else?"
"Flowers. Dinner. A romantic proposal," Hwanwoong pushes up onto his tip toes and drops his voice to barely more than a whisper. "There's just one last thing."
"Chocolates? I forgot chocolates."
Hwanwoong lets out a sharp laugh, his head falling back. Youngjo's eyes are practically shining when Hwanwoong meets them again. "We can put a pin in that."
"I'll get some tomorrow."
"Okay," Hwanwoong says on a quiet giggle.
And Youngjo's always been a little slow about some things, but he's never been stupid. His gaze drops to Hwanwoong's mouth and Hwanwoong licks his lips and tips his head and then they're kissing, their noses bumping, Hwanwoong's glasses smashing into his cheeks, Youngjo's arm tightening around his middle as though he's afraid Hwanwoong might disappear. He feels the barest brush of Youngjo's tongue along his bottom lip and groans as he parts his lips to let him in, tasting ramen and a hint of cider on his tongue before they both pull away, breathing hard.
"Did that seal the deal?" Youngjo asks, laughing into the curve of Hwanwoong's smile. "Are we official?"
Dazed, Hwanwoong swallows. "Do you want to be?"
Youngjo nods, his one still tight around Hwanwoong's middle, hands clasped between them.
"It won't freak you out to be dating a guy?"
"You're not just a guy."
"Mmm," Hwanwoong says, bumping his nose gently against Youngjo's. "I was just on a date with someone who thought he could do the whole 'being out' thing, but couldn't. Don't judge me for being a little nervous."
"You're not just a guy," Youngjo repeats, his tone softer. "I want you."
"God, I will absolutely never get tired of hearing you say that," Hwanwoong laughs, barely resisting the urge to smash his lips against Youngjo's once more. He pulls in a breath instead and squares his shoulders. "Okay, ask me again."
Youngjo squints at him. "Which part?"
"Ask if you want to date me."
"Woongi, do you wa–" Hwanwoong doesn't wait for him to finish before surging forward, capturing the rest of Youngjo's words with his lips. And it occurs to him, as he's clinging to Youngjo's wrinkly sleep shirt, the rims of his glasses digging into his cheekbones, and the taste of cheese ramen on his tongue that he's never really wanted just any Valentine's Day kiss.
He's wanted this one.
end.