Work Text:
Jeonghan is sitting on the wooden fence at the edge of his property, waiting for Seokmin to ride in on his bike. His family’s farm goes out to the edge of the main road.
“I worry about you sometimes,” Jeonghan told him once, because he bikes in the middle of the road, in line with the cars, instead of on the side of it. “You’re always letting go of the handlebars for your turn signals.”
“You’d have me bike like a kid would,” Seokmin complained as they watched ducks play at the edge of the pond. “You can’t get anywhere on the dirt and it increases the chance of a flat.”
“I didn’t know you had so much against dirt paths,” Jeonghan said sadly. None of the roads on their land are paved except the one that connects the storehouse to the state route. Softhearted, Seokmin would apologize and Jeonghan would go on to laugh at him. Their relationship had been a little like this ever since high school.
Now Jeonghan pushes off the wood rail and jogs up to Seokmin, who’s started walking his bike towards the house. “You’re a little late,” Jeonghan says, tapping on his bare wrist.
“I didn’t know we had an appointment,” Seokmin retorts, and he shoves him back lightly in the shoulder. In truth Seokmin biking over to Jeonghan’s on Sundays is like an unspoken rule at this point. The trip over from his campus in the city is about 90 minutes long, and he’s sweating a lot through his turtleneck.
“Hey! My delicate constitution,” Jeonghan says after rubbing his shoulder, and hands Seokmin the towel he always keeps on hand for farm-related emergencies.
Seokmin pulls his phone out of his pocket to snap a picture of Jeonghan, who looks really nice in that cardigan, framed by the maturing autumn leaves. Maybe after months of Jeonghan having to ask him to do it he’d finally read his mind first. Jeonghan’d been posting a lot of pictures of the two of them together lately. Seokmin asked the other day if people weren’t asking him about that, cause they sure were asking Seokmin.
“It’s not lovestagram if you're not in love,” Jeonghan had said shortly.
Jeonghan met Sojung in Malta during his study abroad program, or so he says. Sometimes Seokmin isn’t sure whether to believe his stories or not. Seokmin hasn’t really gotten to see her much and once in a conversation where he was third-wheeling Joshua said, “If you’ve met Jeonghan you’ve basically met Sojung.” Jeonghan smiled and looked really happy about it. Anyway, he was off the table after that.
At least for the time being.
Seokmin takes his shoes off in the mudroom of Jeonghan’s house so he can take a slice of pie from the kitchen counter. Jeonghan leans against the doorway, hair falling into his eyes.
“I have a delivery to make to Mingyu, do you want to come?” Jeonghan personally brings him fresh milk a few times a week, it’s compensation for a favor Jeonghan’s owed him since his junior year of high school, Mingyu’s freshmen year. Neither of them will tell Seokmin what happened.
“All I can say is—” Mingyu started that day, plating their tart and eclair order at the counter, pausing to build anticipation. Seokmin leaned forward in his chair, hands gripping the wooden seat.
“You can’t.” Jeonghan smiled wanly, an expression of finality on his face that sort of scared Seokmin.
“...I can’t say anything,” Mingyu continued as he walked over with their dessert. He shrugged. “Nothing I can do about that!”
“Fail your apprenticeship,” Seokmin muttered under his breath, and they both laughed at him. Mingyu won’t fail no matter what he says anyway. He works too hard at everything he does and the cherry on top is that Minghao’s mother absolutely adores him. It must be nice to know you have a place wherever you go, a home away from home.
Jeonghan waves his hand in front of Seokmin’s face, snapping him out of his memories. His socks with the bunny print have slipped past his ankles, like they came off with his shoes and he never pulled them back on.
“Yeah, sure,” Seokmin says, blinking. “I don’t have anything better to do anyway?” It’s also not like Seokmin would let Jeonghan leave him here after he’d biked all this way.
“My mother would so challenge you on that,” Jeonghan says smugly. “Like you don’t think she’d swoop you up in a heartbeat and talk your head off? We need to get out of here.”
Still Seokmin needs to eat, so he wolfs yesterday’s pie down his throat before letting Jeonghan lead him back outside. As far as desserts go, it’s way better than Mingyu’s.
Seokmin puts his bike in the truck. Jeonghan slides crates of milk jugs in beside it, covering them with a cloth. It’s not a long drive and the roads are quiet, fall foliage decorating the fields they pass. When they get into the town Jeonghan pulls up behind the bakery’s building next to where Mingyu’s car is parked. “I’ll give Mingyu a call,” Jeonghan starts, but Minghao is already sitting on the back step and goes inside the bakery to get him.
Mingyu hefts the crates off the truck bed and nods to Jeonghan, a toothy grin on his face. “I have another few hours on my shift, I’ll put them in the fridge so they stay cold for the trip home,” he calls as he pushes the door away with his elbow. Minghao reluctantly holds the door open with his right foot for when he comes back.
“He says that, but at this point he’s been staying over after hours to practice baking with our machines,” Minghao explains. “I bet he’s planning to use them here.”
“You look happy about that,” Jeonghan says brightly. Seokmin almost laughs because Minghao keeps such a straight face usually but Jeonghan’s baseless provocations are almost psychic in their accuracy.
“He should pay for the service,” Minghao responds, blanching.
“Maybe if you ask he’ll share,” Jeonghan teases, and Minghao just rolls his eyes and goes back inside, letting the door fall shut behind him. Through the door they can hear Mingyu whining and Minghao responding with some acerbic reprimand about ‘company policy’.
“He’s not wrong,” Seokmin points out. “Technically.”
“Minghao is the only one on the staff that would even dream of telling Mingyu what to do. Ah, young love,” Jeonghan says, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.
The door opens again and Mingyu sticks his head out, narrowing his eyes. “That comment better not have been about what I thought it was.”
Seokmin hands him the last crate of milk. “It probably was.” He smiles sweetly regardless of feeling, as he does.
“You’re both crazy,” Mingyu says sourly. “Thanks, Jeonghan!”
Jeonghan waves back and then dangles the keys in front of Seokmin. “So, where to next?”
Seokmin checks his phone for the first time since he’d arrived. “Oh. I do actually have something to do, I guess?” He squints at the notification.
text from soonyoung
hey can you help with the fin homework? i really dont get it >_<
“Fin homework?” Seokmin wonders out loud. “Is he taking a class about sharks?”
“You’re both in that personal finance class,” Jeonghan points out without even seeing his screen.
“Oh,” Seokmin says.
Soonyoung showed up out of the blue in the elective class Seokmin’s taking just to fill his load senior year. Neither of them know a thing about managing money. Come to think of it Jeonghan was the one that told him to do it, said Personal Finance would actually be useful for him. “You don’t need technical knowledge for something that isn’t in your major,” he’d said, “and it will help you avoid getting swindled.” As much of a compliment as his kind reputation was, Jeonghan was probably right about what he needed. The thing that Jeonghan said to Seokmin when they first met still haunts him even now:
“You look like the type of person who gets everything they want.”
And Jeonghan would of course go on to find out that he doesn’t because kindness comes with timidity, but perception and self-image go hand in hand.
Seokmin hadn’t really talked to Soonyoung recently, but once upon a time they were close, a classic ‘childhood friends who meet again in college’ story. Seokmin is the type who finds it easier to study with someone else and Soonyoung was the only one in the course he’d recognized. At least they had gotten along at one point in their lives. But it was awkward, Seokmin complained to Jeonghan, “And he keeps looking at me like...”
“Like?”
“Like...”
Jeonghan motioned with his hand, prompting him to get on with it.
“I don’t know. It’s just very weird.”
Jeonghan sighed. “You’re insufferable.”
“Hyung,” Seokmin whined like he always would when he needed to elicit a particular brand of sympathy. Jeonghan did not look amused.
Seokmin would end up telling him countless stories about Soonyoung complimenting him a lot during studying and Seokmin thinking it was because Soonyoung thinks he’s insecure. “I feel like he’s pitying me,” Seokmin said. In lieu of giving actual useful advice in this situation Jeonghan suggested he accept the compliments wholeheartedly.
“You go around in circles in your own head, did you know that?” he asked.
Seokmin rather likes going around in those circles, thank you very much. In the latest incident: Soonyoung pulling the hood over Seokmin’s head as he leaves the lecture hall. What is that even supposed to mean!
It was probably just a friendly joke move. Seokmin ended up thinking about it for the rest of the week.
Seokmin pulls the bike off the truck so he can chain it to a post and waves goodbye to Jeonghan. Normally the two of them study at the school library, but when Seokmin texted him to say he was too far away Soonyoung answered that he was off campus too. (my sister lives right by that bakery, Soonyoung texts, and Seokmin curses himself for creating yet another reason to see Mingyu again.
never mind, Seokmin answers, let’s go to the cafe next door!! )
“You really biked all the way over here just to ditch me,” Jeonghan says, but he’s not upset. “I’m upset.”
“I’ll see you next week,” Seokmin replies, and gives him a big hug.
Soonyoung does know A Thing about personal finance apparently, it’s just that he has no idea how to apply it to schoolwork. Seokmin almost looks at him pityingly. If Jeonghan were here he’d say something like how it was fine that he can’t do math if he’s really good physically, the connotations of which would be highly dependent on the context of the conversation. Now the Jeonghan in Seokmin’s head is asking him why he’s thinking about— But you know what. It’s fine.
Anyway, Seokmin only finds this out because he gets frustrated quickly and easily distracted, even more so because there’s no other students around them to pressure them into studying.
“Yeah, it was just cheaper to move out here,” Soonyoung tells him after not thirty minutes of actual work getting done. “Houses are so expensive close to the city, and well. The family business wasn’t doing so hot.”
“My mom never told me that,” Seokmin says. “I honestly thought you’d moved to another state or something. Distance always seems bigger when you’re a kid.”
“It’s basically another world once you go past the suburbs.” Soonyoung gulps down his glass of lemonade, leaving a ring of water on his worksheet. Seokmin decides not to comment on it. “And people grow apart even if they’re friends, it’s natural.”
“It’s nice to hear about it though,” Seokmin says, contemplating. “To know what people are up to.”
“I’m glad I didn’t bore you, ‘cause I always think it’s easier to study when you know who you’re studying with better,” Soonyoung says. Bizarrely, he adds, “It’s kind of like dating.”
Seokmin thinks about it skeptically. Is that how it works? “Actually,” he says, “I feel like you can’t— I mean, shouldn’t love someone you’re too close to.”
“Why?”
“I guess they know you too well, and,” Seokmin says, fiddling with his ear, “there’s nowhere to hide anything about yourself.”
“But then on the flip side you don’t have to wonder if you’re doing things right or reading the other person wrong.”
“I think there’s always room for uncertainty,” Seokmin says.
“Sure,” Soonyoung responds, looking out the window at the passing strangers. “You can never really know what other people are thinking without a doubt.”
Seokmin sips his water, eyes glazing over the blue diagrams in Soonyoung’s textbook, upside-down and illegible to him.
“Do you believe distance makes the heart grow fonder?” he asks, thinking of the beaches of Malta.
“Yes,” Soonyoung says simply, without hesitation.
“You answered that so fast.”
“I can only speak from experience,” Soonyoung says, shrugging. “You move away from all your friends and you end up thinking about all the things you’re missing. Especially when you’re a kid and can’t see the bigger picture, but even as an adult too, I think.”
“You seem like the kind of person to move on to bigger and better things.”
“Well yeah,” Soonyoung says. “I picked up performing arts. It wasn’t all bad or anything, it’s just that when you find people you love, you can’t exactly replace them.”
Seokmin mulls on that for a bit.
“I guess my problem is a little similar,” he says. “I think I end up loving a lot of people and not being able to let any of them go.”
“It’s not like you have to though,” Soonyoung points out. “It’s not like there’s limited room in your heart.”
Maybe so. But it still feels like Seokmin’s always trying to clear away some space for The One, and there are some people who’ve stuck around so long they refuse to budge.
Soonyoung feels distant and familiar all at the same time.
Seokmin, surprising himself, shuts Soonyoung’s textbook for him and asks if Soonyoung wants to go eat because “honestly,” he says, “I’m starving.”
“Well I was thinking— You know my weekend job?”
Soonyoung’s offering an employee discount. How could he say no?
“It’s a little far. We have to drive past my middle school to get there, and y’know. Some cornfields along the way.”
Seokmin smiles. “Won’t you take me to the place where you grew up?”
So Soonyoung shows him to his old family car with the worn brake pad. “It's not exactly safe in here,” he jokes. “Are you okay with that? I can't pay for your medical bills.”
“I think I can trust you,” Seokmin says sincerely.
Soonyoung gets them a table on the patio and promises to take him around the grounds after they eat.
The waiter comes by and says, “It’s weird not seeing you in your uniform, Soonyoung.” The uniform is a very classy all-black ensemble and Soonyoung’s coworker looks extremely good in it.
“I brought a friend, Wonwoo. Emphasis on friend.”
“You’re not going to drink, are you Soonyoung?”
“Maybe a little,” he says sheepishly.
“You shouldn’t let him,” Wonwoo advises, dropping menus on the table with one hand. The other grips the edge of a ceramic plate, balancing dishes precariously on his arm. “He does poorly with alcohol. Watch out or he’ll really pull you in—”
“Maybe you shouldn’t sell it to me,” Soonyoung grumbles.
“I want the tips.”
Wonwoo ruffles his head before leaving and the ghost of his touch keeps Soonyoung rattled for the next few minutes. Soonyoung notices Seokmin looking at him when he’s supposed to be choosing something to eat.
“It’s complicated,” Soonyoung says.
“It looks like history,” Seokmin offers. “Uh, I hope I’m not projecting.”
Soonyoung grimaces. “Well like, I promised Wonwoo I’d never get drunk enough to start kissing people in public again.” Seokmin looks at him in horror. “I’m so sorry.”
“NO, it’s fine, it’s just like.” Seokmin laughs nervously. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Please don’t expect it,” Soonyoung begs.
“I wasn’t going to,” Seokmin says, but well. Now he is kind of thinking about it.
Soonyoung is disappointingly responsible for the rest of the night.
“Oh, it’s late,” Seokmin says, checking his phone at the front door of the restaurant. “And my phone’s about to die.”
“You didn’t notice the sun go down?”
“I did,” he says, “but I was too focused on how beautiful it was. Can you call me a ride?” Seokmin hesitates. “I can do it, let me get my card out.”
Soonyoung looks at his phone for a moment and says “No, I’ll do it”.
"No, I can pay for it,” Seokmin insists.
“No, it’s just— I feel uneasy leaving you alone in the car,” Soonyoung says. “It’s so late,” he repeats. “Hey, I’ll drive you home.”
“You can just drive me to Jeonghan’s,” Seokmin answers weakly. “I don’t want to trouble you. I can bike home tomorrow.”
“You look exhausted,” Soonyoung says.
“Well I would have had to do today if I hadn’t gotten carried away,” Seokmin says, scratching the nape of his neck.
“Then it’s my fault. I mean I won’t stop you from doing it, but I just want you to know that I don’t mind driving you.”
Soonyoung is painfully earnest. Seokmin feels bad taking advantage of his kindness, but Jeonghan always told him that he was the kind one. Seokmin doesn’t really know if he believes that either, but maybe he should start having more faith in both Jeonghan and himself.
Seokmin looks down at the paved road at his feet. “You know, I always used to think taking the hard way would always be worth it.”
Soonyoung tilts his head, confused.
“But maybe I was just holding onto a silly dream instead of looking at what’s in front of me,” he continues.
“Are you rejecting me?” Soonyoung asks, eyebrows furrowed.
“I’m not at all,” Seokmin says, laughing. “Let’s go.”
It really is late. Seokmin is exhausted.
“Close your eyes,” Soonyoung says, gently, after they’ve exhausted a load of conversation topics and Seokmin is too sleepy to think of any more.
But he doesn't want to. Seokmin can see him out of his peripheral vision, eyes concentrated on the road, focused. The yellow highway lights blur past them, left behind in the distance, just the trail of a speeding car.
“I want to keep you company,” Seokmin says.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, but I want to.”
“Alright,” Soonyoung answers, smiling.
Seokmin falls asleep against his own wishes minutes later. Soonyoung laughs at him but doesn’t wake him up until they reach his apartment.
("Hey, Soonyoung?" Seokmin knocks on the car window. "I just realized I forgot my bike at the cafe."
"Let's drive back tomorrow and get it," Soonyoung suggests. Seokmin doesn't say no.)