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Seonghwa is running through the halls, panting because he’s late, and he’s never late and he cannot be late, but he’s late anyways and so he’s running to try and make up for it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice tells him he shouldn’t be running through the halls, since he’s a prefect and he should be setting a good example, but he tells the little voice that being late isn’t setting a good example either, and yet, here they are.
He comes running around the corner and almost barrels straight into another person, stood waiting by the window like he always is.
“You’re late,” Hongjoong says, his eyes sparkling as he teases him.
Seonghwa, a little out of breath from the running and just Hongjoong, generally, takes a moment to respond. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise.”
He’s ready to go, expecting Hongjoong to follow him as he heads down their usual route, but the boy pokes his arm softly, and when he looks down at him, the teasing look has been replaced by one of concern.
“You’re never late, is everything okay?” he asks, and Seonghwa can’t help the sigh he releases. Because if it were anyone else, anyone, he’d force a smile and they’d be on their way. But this is Hongjoong, and he’d recognize it immediately, and also for once, with Hongjoong, Seonghwa doesn’t want to pretend.
“It’s just the History of Magic final,” he admits, lowering his head. “I’m just having more trouble with it than I’m used to.”
“Can I help?” Hongjoong asks first, and Seonghwa smiles at his friend. “We can study in the library, tomorrow after class? Maybe you can help me with potions in return, you know that’s my weakness.”
Seonghwa agrees immediately, because yes, he does need the help, but he’d also kill for any extra time he can spend with the younger boy.
As they head down the stairs, Hongjoong smiles up at him. “You can ask me for help, you know, whenever you need it? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”
Seonghwa smiles back. They’ve been doing patrols together nearly two years now, they know the route by heart. “I’d say we’re acquaintances, at the very least,” he jokes, and it’s all worth the cute pout he gets in return.
“I heard a rumor,” Hongjoong says, when they’re done arguing over the terms of their friendship, bouncing on his toes a bit with excitement, “that there’s something going down in the old potions closet tonight. Heard someone snuck some fireworks in.”
“Mingi?” Seonghwa asks, because that sounds just like their goofy Hufflepuff friend, but Hongjoong shakes his head.
“You know Jisung? Han? The fifth-year Gryffindor?” Seonghwa vaguely remembers the boy, who often hangs around with some of his own Hufflepuff housemates. He nods at Hongjoong. “I think he lost a bet or something. Either way, it’s against the rules, and it’ll be interesting.”
Seonghwa chuckles, following Hongjoong down another flight of stairs heading towards the dungeons. “Fireworks? Like legit ones? Where’d he get those? I thought they checked bags now on our way in.”
“They do, but you know that joke shop in Diagon Alley? Apparently they have their own delivery service, and they guarantee it’ll get through any security checks. It sounds really interesting, I wish I knew how it worked.”
“That sounds illegal.”
Hongjoong shrugs. “Maybe. They’re just fireworks though, they won’t hurt anybody, and it’s more fun for us, right?”
Seonghwa can’t argue there, it does always spice up their evening patrols when there’s actually someone to bust, and they’re not just aimlessly wandering the halls, waiting for something to happen.
“Can you believe we’ll be seventh years?” Hongjoong asks when they’ve cleared the first flight of stairs, and Seonghwa groans at the thought.
“I’m not ready,” he admits, and Hongjoong nods his agreement.
“There’s so much we still haven’t done, don’t you feel that?” he asks, and Seonghwa looks at him curiously. “Like going to a party, one in the Room of Requirements.”
“We’ve broken up parties in the Room of Requirements before.”
“But we’ve never gone to one, like stayed and had a drink, maybe danced a little.” He pinches Seonghwa’s hip teasingly. “We’ve never snuck out to the Forbidden Forest, or spent a night in the Shrieking Shack.” Seonghwa looks at him like he’s lost his mind, cause he’s starting to act like it.
“You want to spend a night in the Shrieking Shack?”
Hongjoong sighs. “I don’t know. I’m just going to miss this place, that’s all. I don’t feel ready to leave.”
Seonghwa thinks of the place he’s learned to call his home, and his friends that have made it that way. He looks at Hongjoong, who’s staring thoughtfully at one of the moving portraits, and feels his heart warm in understanding.
“I’ve never ridden a broomstick,” he admits suddenly. Hongjoong whips around to face him, in the middle of their descent down a particular flight of stairs, his eyes wide in surprise.
“You what?” Seonghwa flushes in embarrassment, not expecting such an extreme reaction, and fiddles with his sleeve nervously.
“I skipped out on our class first year. My parents aren’t wizards, we never had them growing up. I just never ended up trying it,” he explains, and Hongjoong gapes at him, open-mouthed.
They’ve been standing in the middle of the flight of stairs for too long, and the staircase has shifted, pointing in a direction opposite the dungeons.
“We’re sneaking out,” Hongjoong says suddenly, and Seonghwa barely has a chance to react, his eyes going wide, before he’s grasping onto his wrist and tugging him down the stairs.
“Hongjoong, wait, what about Jisung?”
“Forget Jisung, this is more important.”
“But Hongjoong, it’s nighttime, we can’t go out now.”
Hongjoong turns around suddenly, and the look in his eyes makes Seonghwa’s breath hitch in his chest. “We’ve never done anything interesting in our six years here as students. We’re going to sneak out tonight, steal some brooms, and teach you to fly.”
Seonghwa has no words, and so he follows Hongjoong without question, down the stairs and through the halls and into the night.
~
“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa says, voice as shaky as his hands on the handle of the broom. He looks at the grass, a good few meters below his dangling legs, and tightens his grip. He’s beginning to regret trusting Hongjoong, and becoming his friend in the first place.
“You’re doing great, getting up this high is a feat on its own,” Hongjoong assures him, but Seonghwa’s gaze is locked on the ground below.
“Hongjoong, I’m deathly afraid of heights.”
“You’re what?!”
“Don’t yell at me,” he whines, the shaking intensifying.
“Seonghwa, look at me.”
“I can’t move,” he says, his limbs tense and frozen.
“Seonghwa, please look at me.” His voice is soft, and Seonghwa pulls his gaze away from the deadly drop beneath them to stare helplessly at him. Hongjoong’s eyes are full of concern, and he leans forward slightly, coming closer in the air.
“Do you want to go back down?” Hongjoong asks when he is hovering right beside him. He reaches over, settling his hand over Seonghwa’s, tightened in a fist over the handle. Seonghwa flinches at the initial contact, but then relaxes ever so slightly, his hand warm where Hongjoong touches him.
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I’m okay,” he says, nodding when Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, still uncertain. He’s more stable now, with the younger by his side. “I think I can do it.”
“Don’t worry,” Hongjoong says, patting his hand comfortingly and flashing him a toothy smile, “I’ll catch you if you fall.”
Seonghwa would shove him away, if they weren’t precariously balanced on magical broomsticks in the sky, but he settles for cringing dramatically.
“Let’s go a bit lower,” Hongjoong says first, hanging onto Seonghwa as he guides them forward, dipping down at an angle to get closer to the ground. Seonghwa doesn’t realize his eyes are squeezed shut until Hongjoong is patting his shoulder, and he opens them again to the younger prefect before him, smiling comfortingly. “Better?”
Seonghwa looks down, and breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes his feet are just above the ground, and that if he stretched his toes, they’d brush the grass.
Hongjoong flies a bit away, and Seonghwa’s chest tightens with panic before he stops, facing him, and gives him an encouraging smile. “All you have to do is lean forward,” he explains, demonstrating on his own broom. He leans forward, he moves forward. Easy enough, Seonghwa notes. “Now try it out, see if you can make it to me.”
Seonghwa searches for comfort in those soft brown eyes, and when he gets it, peering back at him across the pitch, he leans forward, flinching backwards immediately when he lurches forward on the broom. He’s made it maybe an eighth of the distance he needs to go to reach Hongjoong, and he stares at the other boy helplessly as he’s once again frozen on the broom.
But Hongjoong claps, praising the short distance he flew. “See? Not so hard, you’re doing it already.”
It’s enough encouragement for Seonghwa, and he curses Hongjoong for being this way and his heart for being weak when he moves forward in the air.
“This is unnatural,” he tells him, when he’s almost halfway there, and Hongjoong laughs. “People aren’t supposed to fly,” he adds, mostly to himself, but Hongjoong hears him, shaking his head.
“People aren’t supposed to do magic either, and yet here we are.”
Seonghwa frowns as he leans forward again, easing himself further across the pitch. “Brooms are supposed to be for cleaning,” he says, “Why couldn’t we just leave them for cleaning? Wizards are weird.”
“You’re a wizard,” Hongjoong reminds him. He scowls. “C’mon, you’re doing great. You’re almost here.”
He’s right, Hongjoong’s just out of his reach. He’s smiling at him still, a fond look on his face that has Seonghwa’s heart racing even more than the adrenaline. It’s like he’s proud of him, for coming so far, and it’s all Seonghwa needs to motivate him to close the remaining distance.
The problem is that Seonghwa’s very inexperienced on a broomstick and also Hongjoong’s smiles are basically a safety hazard, because with his next leaning forward, he’s a little too excited, and this means he jolts forward on the broom a lot faster than he intended, without any means of stopping, barrelling straight towards Hongjoong.
To Hongjoong’s credit, he does catch Seonghwa, but it’s less helpful when Seonghwa’s already falling, and he just latches himself onto him, following as he crashes to the ground.
Seonghwa lands on his back, the breath getting knocked from him, and then Hongjoong lands directly on his chest, knocking his breath away a second time, and he sits there for a few moments just struggling to breathe, as Hongjoong frets over him and tries to make sure he’s alright.
“Oh my god, Seonghwa, are you okay?” he asks, frantically checking for any injuries. But they weren’t far enough off the ground for any of that, so he relaxes quickly, staring down at Seonghwa as he pouts up at him, upset.
“I hate flying,” he whines, and Hongjoong chuckles, sounding a bit out of breath himself.
“You’re not hurt?” he asks, just to check, and Seonghwa pouts again.
“It hurts a bit,” he admits, and then, because Hongjoong’s above him and he has no self control, he adds, “Kiss it better?”
It’s been a hell of a night, and Seonghwa’s tired of holding back, and Hongjoong isn’t freaking out, he’s still looking at him with a smile on his face. “Hmm? Where does it hurt?”
Seonghwa licks his lips. “Right here,” he breathes, and then puckers them and kisses the air between them. Hongjoong barks out a laugh.
“You sure you didn’t hit your head? Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”
“I’m never riding on a broomstick ever again,” Seonghwa complains again, resting his head back on the grass behind him.
Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. “Really? Never?” Seonghwa’s face goes red at his implication, and he shoves at Hongjoong. They both burst out laughing at the same time, and Seonghwa feels a tightness in his chest dissipate.
And then Hongjoong’s looking at him, and it’s different than before, something in his gaze has shifted, something in the way his features have gone soft, his smile wide and eyes fond. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?” he says, and Seonghwa blushes again, squirming under his heavy gaze.
“Just kiss me already,” he whines, “Or I swear, I’m gonna--”
Hongjoong surges forward and cuts him off, pressing their lips together. It’s quick, barely a soft peck, but when he pulls away Seonghwa’s already breathless, his eyes fluttering shut. Hongjoong’s just above him, he can still feel his breath ghosting his cheek, their noses brushing slightly and foreheads pressed together.
Seonghwa opens his eyes to Hongjoong already peering down at him, his eyes full of something that makes Seonghwa’s throat feel tight. He reaches up to hold him, cradling his face carefully in his hands, and Hongjoong sighs shakily.
There’s something so hopeful in the way Seonghwa’s heart races at the sound, at the look in his eyes, at the ghost of his kiss on his lips. Like this is the start of something amazing and new, like learning to fly, and it’s not scary this time because Hongjoong’s right here and they’re starting together.
“I really like you, Hongjoong,” he tells him, because he tells him everything and it’s honestly a miracle he hasn’t blurted it out already. Hongjoong giggles, and the sound is heavenly.
“I’ve gathered that,” he whispers, and then presses their lips together again, and this time, the kiss lingers, their mouths suddenly sliding against each other in perfect rhythm. Hongjoong pulls away to press a short kiss to Seonghwa’s nose, and Seonghwa responds by kissing his forehead and holding him close.
They’re just looking at each other now, and Seonghwa thinks he could look at Hongjoong all day, but they’re interrupted by a slight cough just behind them.
They jump up instantly, but Hongjoong is still perched in a rather compromising position on Seonghwa’s lap as they face the Quidditch professor’s angry face.
“Mr. Park, Mr. Kim, what on earth are you two doing out here?”