Chapter Text
Jisung is sitting at his desk, his old desk, his soon to be abandoned desk, and staring at the litany of previously organized papers wondering if he’s allowed to burn them now or if that would be disrespectful to his lovely god-send of a supervisor he’s had for the past two years? He’s finished every other duty expected, required, and desired from him, amazingly so if the recommendation his professor left for him at the end of his post-graduate apprenticeship was anything to go by. He’s almost there, almost ready to snatch up the tacky box of matches that’s sitting in his window but then there’s a whistle erupting out and he drops his head to the wooden surface with a groan because he knows exactly who it is.
There’s a second whistle as he’s breathing, chin tucked toward where his head lays, and Jisung rises from the desk, his old desk, his about to be abandoned desk, crawls forward and looks out the window to see Wookjin. The younger boy, miraculously and sometimes begrudgingly, also a registered student at the same goddman university. Not that Jisung had questioned why he himself was applying to the only school in the country with the exact program Wookjin had wanted to do since he was a child and not that he batted an eye when he accepted a post-graduate position at the same school and stepped foot on campus for the fifth ear to find Wookjin bounding up to him a fully fledged freshman.
When Jisung looks down, Wookjin is waiting right underneath with a case of cheap beer in his hand, not the lowest rung because they are after all, celebrating. And that’s how Jisung finds himself, six years of education and a thwarted inkling to commit arson later, sitting next to his childhood best friend after turning in his last report of academia on the roof of his dorm, drinking.
Jisung is thankful Wookjin had picked this university all those years ago because he’s always liked the stars and well… they’re so crisp here that it makes him small. In a great big world, full of an awful lot of things, sitting next to Wookjin under the stars makes him feel small.
Maybe, after it’s all settled down and there’s no longer the thick coloured dust of youth in his eyes, and Jisung has the time to actually breath in his own chest, he’ll realize. Realize something he already knew a long time ago. Realize what exactly he’s been looking at all his life and never bothered to be scared of missing because some things are just so simple they become facts. Maybe then he’ll be ready when Wookjin’s expectant eyes aren’t sparkling at him and Wookjin’s teetering figure, liquored up for the first time in a while with both the supervision and the company of the older boy, isn’t reaching out to steady himself on Jisung’s figure beside his. He could take it then, in a few weeks, because maybe then it’s what he’ll want to do, to realize.
Why now, why now when Jisung’s leaving Wookjin for the first time in the 21 years he’s known him, is it finally starting to make sense?
Wookjin laughs at him, laughs at everything, laughs at nothing. Jisung isn’t really sure because there’s something that strikes deep into his chest when he sees Wookjin’s smile. It stings… maybe? But again, he doesn’t have the time now to think about it so he laughs along with him, jolting to catch the boy’s middle when he reels forward toward the edged slope of the roof, threatening to tumble over save Jisung remain alert enough for the both of them.
What happens then? When Jisung isn’t there to catch him? What happens to Wookjin when Jisung doesn’t have a secured arm around his stomach?
Wookjin’s laugh is sweet in his ear.
“Thanks, Sung,” he smiles back, settling deeper into the other’s hold in a snuggle that wards off the gentle breeze coming up to greet them.
For a very long time, neither of them ever learned that the wind would, inevitably and without fail, come drifting in when they were settled atop roofs to watch the stars. Even now, no blanket, no jacket, no backup plan, Wookjin and Jisung old enough to know better sat under the sky with nothing but themselves just like they had their whole lives as shivering children, goosebumps rattling their skin and lips near blue.
Along the way, egos and pretend gave way to brushing shoulders and thighs and that gave way to fully tucked arms around torso, a back sidled up snug into chest, and chins latched over shoulders.
“What do you think would happen?” Wookjin asks him, voice soft and small.
Jisung hums. “What do you mean?”
“If you weren’t here to catch me?”
It should catch Jisung off guard that Wookjin always just happens to ask whatever Jisung had been thinking of himself. It should catch him off guard, not because it’s new or unusual because it isn’t and it’s not, but because of what he’s started to realize.
“I don’t know,” he chooses to say, tugging Wookjin closer.
But he does. They both know. Or at least they will admit soon, in a few weeks’ time, when they’re both ready to realize.
“Well, I would rather fall then let anyone else catch me,” Wookjin says but it’s heavier than he meant it to be, doused with a genuine conviction that has Jisung’s hand around the younger’s waist flexing against the fabric of his shirt.
“That’s-”
“It’s a joke,” Wookjin snorts.
But Jisung isn’t sure it is. He can’t really say what Wookjin knows, or how he feels, or what he thinks, but Jisung thinks Wookjin’s known it the whole time. Whatever the hell it is, Jisung is convinced he’s only now starting to realize something Wookjin has always known, stumbling to catch up to the younger like they were kids playing soccer in an empty field.
Maybe next year, when Jisung is gone and Wookjin is starting his second year of university, there won’t be any time to ask himself what it is, whatever it is, what’s always been and what it could be, that’s going on between them.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Jisung reaches over to take the splashing bottle from the younger, snaking his hand around to confiscate the glass from the other’s grip. “Enough for you, baby.”
“Hey! I wasn’t-” Wookjin leans into him heavily, scooting into the space between the other’s half-bent legs to re-appropriate the beer Jisung has placed on his far side and instead ending up firmly swaddled in Jisung’s hold without argument.
“You’re done,” Jisung breathes out as Wookjin settles into him, quiet and penitent. “You’re done,” he repeats dropping his cheek atop the other’s head.
“You didn’t have to come here, you know?”
“What?”
Jisung jerks his head up as the empty bottle at his side falls over from a gust, clinks onto the roof and then slides down in a vicious tumble as it rolls, catching on the gutter a second before falling over the edge. They don’t hear it hit the ground, probably blanketed into a hedge or something. They both stare off after it’s fallen, waiting for…
“Just because it’s where I was coming,” Wookjin continued. “Just because- you didn’t have to come here for me.”
Jisung smiles, laying his cheek back down on Wookjin’s head. “Who says I did?”
Wookjin laughs silently but Jisung feels the rumble of the younger’s chest under his arms against his own body.
“At least we got a year together,” Jisung muses.
“I feel bad,” Wookjin admits. “I feel like I held you back.”
Jisung hugs him tighter, fingers moving to pet along the younger’s sides in a gentle coax. He knows Wookjin well enough to know he’s finished speaking yet and that all he needs, all he wants in that moment, is to have Jisung hold him with the promise of not letting go.
“I’m not…” Wookjin mumbled, throat thick with emotion. “You’re really smart and…” he stops, trying to turn his head to meet the elder. “Jisung?” he asks into the space between their faces.
“Yeah?” the older boy calls back, loosening his hold so they can look each other in the eyes.
There’s a glint in Wookjin’s eyes that tells Jisung he’s nervous, more then the words, more than his heartbeat because those things can always betray a person. But Wookjin’s eyes have never lied, never. It’s funny to Jisung though because he can tell Wookjin is nervous despite the fact Jisung would follow him anywhere. Without a promise of ever having Wookjin acknowledge it, Jisung would whole-heartedly and fool-heartedly follow the younger across the world. Wookjin is bright and happy and driven and inspired and Jisung’s never realized that he’s in love. Jisung never realized he was in love because Wookjin is so breathtakingly beautiful and he’s got to worthy of all Jisung can give and then some.
“Thank you,” is all Wookjin tells him.
Jisung knows what it means. He knows that Wookjin thanks him because Jisung has always been by his side and he doesn’t want to be alone. He really doesn’t want to be alone. But Jisung is leaving and Jisung has to leave, no matter how much Wookjin hates being alone.
“It’s going to be different,” Wookjin says, barely getting the words out.
Jisung wants to answer but all of a sudden Wookjin’s eyes are wet and the smile on his face falters ever so slightly at the corners. He takes his arms and pulls Wookjin back into his chest, hand coming up to cradle the younger’s head to his shoulder. The fabric there grows damp, soaked with the younger’s tears that are spilling out without barely a sound and Jisung’s arms tighten around him.
Jisung is only now starting to realize something Wookjin has known his life. But maybe, maybe next year, he can take the time to admit...