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“So,” Jeonghan says, crossing his legs in a way that's meant to be demonstrating his non-existing authority, “you have come down to visit my humble abode.” He’s trying to sound like the monarch he aspired to be a couple years back. Chan’s eye merely twitches. He is used to this.
“Hello, hyung,” Chan says, half of it a sigh as he slides into one of the padded seats. Wait, padded? That’s new. The scratchy wooden chairs Jeonghan used to own are gone. Chan rejoices a little innerly, because he always felt like he was breaking his back on them. And it’s not like he could walk around much, while they go about their annual game of chess.
Chan has his mouth opened to inquire about the new seats, chairs, whatever, when some guy’s head peeks into the room. Chan recognised him, he opened the door. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Um, sure,” Chan says, not knowing any better. They guy nods and flashes a gentle smile. He looks like a butler, except he’s not wearing a suit. And that Jeonghan’s not rich enough to afford one (to Chan’s knowledge; he wouldn’t be that surprised if Jeonghan were to suddenly reveal that he’s inherited some gigantic fortune).
Years of being acquainted-slash-friends with Jeonghan have taught him that he is a man of many secrets. And he won’t let any of them slip, he’ll just smile as he does right now, the sort of face that tells you ask me, I know you want to, you might regret it, though. Usually he doesn’t even tell people if they ask, just to be annoying. But Chan proudly holds his Favourite Dongsaeng Privilege, and he will make good use of it.
So he leans close over the glass table, makes an effort to allude to The Strange Guy without directly pointing at his vague direction, and asks in a whisper, “Is that like– your butler, or something?”
Jeonghan makes a ridiculous face, and promptly bursts out into laughter.
He laughs for a while and Chan feels a bit ridiculed, but that is often the case with Jeonghan, so it’s not particularly uncomfortable anymore. Right now, though, he is actually very curious, so he gestures around with his hand for a while until Jeonghan stops, imagining all sorts of possible answers to the question that could cause this much amusement in Jeonghan.
“Ah, Shua?” Jeonghan says – are those laughing tears? – “He’s my husband, actually.”
Chan screams.
It is in Chan's first year of highschool when he first becomes acquainted with The Yoon Jeonghan. All unsuspecting and (according to Seungkwan) innocent, not knowing that he'd run into the (also according to Seungkwan) hands of the devil.
Chan does not trust anything Seungkwan says, so naturally, he goes against his advice and makes small talk to Jeonghan during music club. Jeonghan is very nice, Chan gets along with him well, and he finds himself with a new friend quicker than he could've said fuck you, Seungkwan.
Soon enough, though, people start looking at him a bit weirdly, and upon asking, Chan is told (very ominously) this:
There are three things to be known about Yoon Jeonhan.
Firstly – Seungkwan would support this sentiment – he is evil. Chan can't see what is meant by that when Jeonghan treats him to a sandwich from the Starbucks nearby that they frequent (because there's nothing much better close by), but Jungeun from the other class is convinced that Chan is being spared because Jeonghan has a soft spot for him.
(What Chan is being spared of, he's not sure if he wants to know.)
Secondly, he likes playing games – and this Chan can affirm with confidence. According to Jeonghan, every disagreement can be solved by the means of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Mostly because he has mastered the psychology of the game, it seems like, and is able to lose or win with certainty on purpose. It's very annoying sometimes.
(Especially when they fight over who pays for their favourite chocolate snack from the vending machine. Oh, how much pocket money Chan has lost to the mastermind manipulation of one Yoon Jeonghan.)
Lastly, third – which will become Chan's demise, according to himself later on – Jeonghan is particularly fond of playing chess.
Chan does not know what his classmates want to tell him with these three apparently essential Jeonghan facts. They merely make him a guy, Chan concludes. He's kind, he treats Chan well, so he sees no issue in being friends with Jeonghan.
And later, as he makes his first move against Jeonghan (he'd been convinced to play chess with him, although Chan has an innate dislike for strategy games), Jeonghan smirks and tells him that he's made a big mistake.
(In the future, he wouldn't call it a mistake – more of a lucky accident, perhaps.)
(Any way, two turns later Jeonghan sets him checkmate.)
“Oh, dear,” is all Jeonghan comments on Chan's surprise.
“What the fuck,” Chan says with emphasis to a very much baffled Jeonghan. As if this– revelation was something to mention this incidentally and wasn't like, a life-changing fact even to your closest friend.
“I didn't tell you,” Jeonghan says, making an innocent face, with air quotes and all, “because we are not ‘actually’ married.”
Chan's jaw drops. “Huh?”
Jeonghan just makes a complicated expression. “It's a long story.”
Chan stares at him incredulously. He sees a slight smirk tucked into the corner of Jeonghan's lips and shakes his head. He should've known. “After all these years you still manage to fool me. I feel a bit offended,” Chan says, crossing his arms.
At that moment, Jeonghan's– not-husband comes in with two cups of fresh tea. There's one already filled with milk – Chan appreciates the sentiment, figures Jeonghan must've told the guy about Chan's undying love for milk tea.
“Thanks,” Chan says, flashing a smile before turning to regard Jeonghan again, who is grinning at him.
(Typical Yoon Jeonghan, the girls in his highschool would've said.)
“Will you tell me the whole story,” Chan says, “or do I have to beat you to it?”
"Preference for the second," Jeonghan says, taking out the chessboard from beneath the table. It's an old one – Chan had gifted it to Jeonghan, back then, at his own graduation. Unconventional, to gift people stuff on your own graduation, but Jeonghan had accepted nonetheless.
(It always makes his lips curl up just the slightest bit, to see Jeonghan still using it.)
This is how it always goes – Jeonghan (now) has the strange belief that everything can be solved with a game of chess. Chan doesn't mind, he enjoys the occasional game. He doesn't get to do it often, though, because he's busy with work and so is Jeonghan. But they've retained at least one game annually as a friendship tradition, and Chan holds onto it dearly.
They do a quick round of Rock Paper Scissors, Jeonghan’s old favourite (“Nostalgic,” he sighs as they do it) to decide sides, Chan ending up taking white with a sign. Usually Chan would like to be proactive, but Jeonghan, as a very reactive opponent, plays into this and uses it to his great advantage. Whenever Jeonghan has to start, the game immediately becomes a bit more likely for Chan to win.
(Not that he’s ever won against Jeonghan in recent years.)
There is one time Chan manages to win against Jeonghan in chess, and he holds that moment dear to his heart.
The price is set as one simple bar of Chan’s favourite chocolate, however, arguably, Chan’s honour is also at stake as soon as he spots Kwon fucking Soonyoung amongst the crowd forming around their table. God, what did he do to deserve his crush watching him fail pathetically at chess. Chan groans, and massages his temples as the chess clock ticks away besides him.
The best obvious choice here would be moving his queen, as she’s about to be taking by Jeonghan’s pawn – yes, a pawn. Thinking Jeonghan to be a conventional guy is the biggest mistake one can make. But– then that’d give Jeonghan a chance to move his rook to shield his king, and Chan would lose any chance of ever getting even close to a check. Ah– it’s so complicated, what’s he gonna do, there’s not much time–
Before he knows it he’s grabbed his queen, lifting the figure up to move her to safety, but then Chan stops. Contemplates.
Instead of anything that’d be reasonable, he places her down in diagonal line with Jeonghan’s last rook. He curses internally as soon as he lets go – it was a bold move, and avery stupid one, Chan’s king being in the open to Jeonghan’s rook now – Chan has just effectively set himself check. But Chan knows he won’t be able to take it back – this is a serious game, well, as serious as chess games in the school cafeteria go.
Jeonghan smiles at him, ever so carefully blank that way. He lifts his hand, letting it hover over the board, and Chan swallows, thinking, just make it quick, deliver the final blow–
Except he doesn’t.
His fingers settle on a bishop at the edge of the board, barely moved over the course of the game, and he moves it in front of his king. And that means–
Chan's heart takes a leap, and as soon as he hears the click of the chess clock, he practically rips his queen from the field to take Jeonghan's rook. And thus–
“Checkmate,” he says, breathless.
“So how–” Chan starts in between moving a pawn forward, “–how have things been?”
Jeonghan hums, taking a pause to contemplate his next move, a finger pressed to his lips in thought. “Be5.” He slides the wooden figurine over the board to its place, smiling when he draws a puzzled expression out of Chan. He writes down the notation, and pushes the button on the chess clock. “Fine, nothin' exciting going on. You?”
“I got a new job,” Chan says. Jeonghan makes a noise of pleasant surprise, trying to coax more out of Chan, which he won't give in to right now, he has to think about his next move first.
“Ra4,” Chan exhales, putting down the piece with a slight thunk. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. He's surprised, that's good. Chan's chances are starting to look better.
He goes through the motions of finishing his move as he speaks, “Soonyoung's finally gotten the licence to open a studio and well, I got employed there now, I suppose.”
Jeonghan leans forward, propping up his chin on his hand. “Do you get paid a lover-bonus?”
Chan hums before he's fully registered the word, and promptly flushes red. "What, no!" he exclaims over Jeonghan's snickering. “We’re not like that,” Chan mumbles in defeat, pressing the chess clock in an attempt to get Jeonghan away from teasing him any further.
(It doesn’t work.)
“Nb2,” Jeonghan says triumphantly, catching Chan completely off-guard with the move. And of course, Jeonghan uses this to his advantage, a smirk playing on his lips: “Yet that is. You won’t forget to invite me to your wedding, no?”
“... Jeonghan,” Chan signs, massaging his temple. He narrows his eyes, attempting to look angry but, judging from the look on Jeonghan’s face, failing very ungracefully. “It’s more likely that you actually married this strange guy in your house and didn’t want to admit to it than me and Soonyoung ever even just–”
He stops because Jeonghan’s eyes are widening to a concerning degree. Oh my God, he looks like he’s about to choke. Chan slaps him on the back for good measure.
“Ouch,” Jeonghan coughs out, patting his chest. His figure deflates like a poked balloon. Chan eyes him like he’s some natural phenomenon – well, you don’t see a defeated Jeonghan every day. Chan quirks an eyebrow when Jeonghan slowly rises from being curled up against his precious glass table.
Jeonghan coughs one more time, and grins.
The realisation dawns upon Chan, and, very scandalised, he slams a hand down on the table. A few chess pieces fall down with a clatter. “Yoon Jeonghan, you liar!”
On the day of Jeonghan’s graduation, Chan fakes being sick for school and steals away from his parent’s prying eyes to hide in the very back of the main hall. He watches the mass of now ex-students go up to the stage one by one to receive their certificates, tapping a finger against his arm while he waits. When it’s Jeonghan’s turn, he cheers loudly.
He’s the only one, but he does not back down.
Later, he catches Jeonghan outside the school, jumping at his back, and Jeonghan lets out a surprised huff. Still, his hands catch Chan and adjust position so that he’s piggy-backing him. Chan makes a pleased sound, and ruffles Jeonghan’s hair to tease him, because Jeonghan used to do it to him all the time.
(The student that’s been walking next to Jeonghan looks slightly scandalised. Chan does not care at all. Maybe Jeonghan has rubbed off on him.)
Jeonghan lets him down by the door of his car, and scrambles for the key buried somewhere in the depths of his pockets besides sweets he stole from Chan and pocket change from the vending machine. Chan takes the moment to snap a secret shot of Jeonghan – the sun’s just going down and the natural light falls really nicely upon his figure. However, Chan’s secret plan is ruined by the flash he forgot to turn off. Jeonghan turns around, his mouth forming words along the lines of what the fuck, and within less than seconds Chan is fighting for his life while Jeonghan makes grabby hands for his phone.
Someone might think Chan is getting robbed by a wild highschool senior here. He wiggles out of Jeonghan’s attempt to cage him against the side of the car and holds his phone up high in the air, demonstratively (whatever he’s demonstrating).
“I’m not handing it over,” he says, grinning. “You looked good, though. Too bad you don’t have an Instagram.”
Jeonghan sighs, running a hand through his hair. He shakes his head and opens the door to the driver’s seat, gesturing at Chan to join him on the other side.
The tips of his ears are flushed pink though, and Chan knows it was worth it. He doesn’t stop grinning all the way home.
"Okay, okay," Jeonghan says, huffing in defeat under Chan's threatening gaze. Seungkwan once said that nothing can make Jeonghan weak except an angry Chan. This knowledge has been misused by him to torment the two many times. However right now, Chan is mostly overplaying it to finally get the secret out of Jeonghan. He’s sort of really getting annoyed here.
"It's a long story," Jeonghan says slowly, "and I didn't tell you because I, uh, was still figuring things out–" He gulps. "But here it goes."
Chan listens as he picks up the chess pieces that have fallen to the ground, and progressively gets slower as he Jeonghan tells his incredulous tale. So apparently – according to Jeonghan – I basically found Shua – Joshua – on the street, picked him up and, the inbetween is unnecessary, then we married for, uh, tax reasons. And now we’re here.
Chan forces himself to manually close his jaw and not lose his mind. “You married… for tax?”
Jeonghan, in all seriousness, nods. He sighs under Chan’s disbelieving gaze, “Look.” He makes some weird gesture with his hands. “Isn’t that how you get a man? You pick one up from the street, play chess against him and then you marry?”
“Jeonghan, I’m not sure if that’s– wait, chess?”
“I won,” Jeonghan adds. “Wouldn’t have agreed to marriage otherwise.”
“Sometimes the fact that you are a real person absolutely baffles me,” Chan says, and chooses to comment no further. He’s about to resume their chess game by critically eyeing the board to assess how high his possibility of losing is currently, but he doesn’t get to do so – the chess clock ticks off first.
“Well,” Jeonghan says, “I suppose we got a little side-tracked.” He leans over the board, “I think that means I won.”
Chan is still recovering from all the information that has been dumped on him mere moments ago, “What, no, you– you distracted me!”
Jeonghan, forever the menace, smiles. “What if that was the plan all along?”
Now it is Chan’s turn to deflate in his seat. “I cannot believe this,” he says, shaking his head as he sinks his face into his palms. “I got tricked thrice today…”
Somewhere he vaguely perceives footsteps, and Jeonghan mumbles something, his voice audibly different. A lot… sweeter. Oh my God, is he actually–
Chan peeks through his fingers to Jeonghan and Joshua doing some weird honey-eye exchange. Jeonghan has a hand on Joshua’s jaw, and they’re drawing closer – no, Chan closes his eyes again.
Unfortunately some evil soul decides to speak to him. “Chan-ssi–” that’s Joshua speaking “–pardon me, I did not introduce myself yet. I am Joshua, and, well, I suppose Jeonghanie has told you about our history by now, judging from the look on your face.” He smiles at Chan, and huh, it is actually a very gentle smile. Suddenly Chan feels a bit bad. Joshua seems nice.
He takes Joshua’s hand. “Chan it is, and I have to apologise as well–” he glances at Jeonghan “–these chess games with Jeonghan tend to get… heated.”
“Ah,” Joshua laughs,” yes, I’ve had first-hand experience, I get what you mean.”
Chan sits up, wrinkling his nose. “Does he also evoke in you the desire to throw the chessboard at him?”
Joshua’s smile dissolves very quickly. “God, no!” In the background Jeonghan makes some aggravated noise, presumably at the suggested fact that Chan would throw his precious chessboard into his face. But technically, if one does not take the laws of possession so seriously, Chan bought this, so it is his board – he’d be free to use it how he wants. Even if that is to hurl it at Jeonghan (he would never actually do that, though, it’s just fun to meaninglessly threaten each other).
“You are a very bad loser,” Jeonghan says with faux bite. He places his hand down on the table as some sort of demonstrative gesture. Chan pointedly ignores him. “Joshua– could you make us some more tea, please?”
“Coming right up,” Joshua says, exiting the room in one swift motion.
Once the door is closed, Chan leans over the table. “He’s a good guy,” he says, honestly. Jeonghan blinks at him a few times, and then his face softens – into a smile, a genuine one at that. He looks down, a bit embarrassed, and Chan feels fond.
“He really is,” Jeonghan says, quietly.
Chan huffs, a small laugh, and gives into the urge to wrap his arms around Jeonghan and draw him close. A few chess pieces clatter and fall down, but Chan does not care now. Jeonghan – as much as he likes to act like a sitcom villain, he’s just another guy at the end of the day – and he is Chan’s best friend, has been ever since Chan had dared to sit down next to the infamous Yoon Jeonghan in music club. Jeonghan’s had Chan’s back for all these years and Chan has had his. Even in adulthood, separated across hundreds of kilometres, they still find back together to laugh together like all those years ago.
(And it’s all big, good laughter at the end – every tease, every curse at each other – it is the nature of their friendship, simply.)
“I’m very happy that you found someone,” Chan says, keeping his voice low because he’s right next to Jeonghan’s ear. Jeonghan nods into his shoulder, giving an affirmative hum. He leans closer, and Chan can only smile. He can’t say he didn’t miss this.
Nothing, no, really nothing in the world can replace the warmth of an old friend, one that has seen you through so many highs and lows.
After a little longer, Jeonghan draws back out, and– did he cry? His eyes are rimmed by a little red, his nose a little pink, his cheeks shiny – but he is smiling, even if saddened, maybe, even if embarrassed – that is enough for Chan. He cracks a smile in turn, a little teasing lilt to his voice, “Getting emotional there, hyung?”
Jeonghan does not deny it. He just huffs, “Speak for yourself,” and Chan laughs.
In that moment Joshua comes in, bringing more hot tea and his delighting presence. Chan mumbles a thank you as he takes the cup – one with a clumsy flower drawn on it. Still has some artistic feel to it, though. Like some weird designer thing. But there’s none of the usual brand signatures anywhere, only a small V at the edge of the cup, just below the handle.
“Have I ever told you,” Chan says as he blows off the little steam from his tea, “that your tea is truly excellent, hyung?”
“Ah,” Jeonghan chuckles, his own cup set aside on the table (because it’s still too hot – another reason why Chan drinks tea with milk, since he’s so very impatient according to some of his friends), “I didn’t buy it, ‘twas a gift from Shua.”
Joshua nods in accordance. “From my hometown.” He makes a gesture, “It’s far away, so it’s nice to have something to remember what it’s like.”
“Now that you mention it!” Chan realises, “I kept thinking that – please don’t take this badly – your accent sounded sort of, well, American…”
“That’s right!” Joshua beams. He then says something in English, which Chan can only raise an eyebrow up. “I wish I’d be proficient enough in English to understand.”
Joshua laughs, and Chan catches Jeonghan looking at him– wow, those are real-life heart eyes. “I just said that I’m from LA, that’s all.”
“You did not,” Jeonghan comments, but chooses not to elaborate, much to Chan’s demise. Something flickers in Joshua’s eyes and he winks at Jeonghan, his voice tinted playful – “Well, I simply thought the rest is not something Chan here should necessarily hear.”
Jeonghan pulls something that can only be aptly described as a comedic frown, and in all (un-)seriousness says, “You are a menace. Get out.”
And Joshua actually leaves, after another witty comment, while Chan is doubling over from laughter. “Am I that funny, huh?” Jeonghan says, now hovering somewhere over where Chan is laying very undignified on the floor. “My poor carpet.”
“No,” Chan replies after getting himself back together and up, “just– your face just now–”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but his face gives way to a smile, and this is how Chan knows that he has won in the end.
Jeonghan tells Chan (very dramatically) that he really can’t make it to Chan’s graduation ceremony because he really has to work and he really needs the money. Chan tells him it’s fine, after all graduation isn’t that much of an important life event, and pats Jeonghan on the arm for good measure.
After the whole ceremony Chan finds Jeonghan crying at the back of the hall. “Aw, hyung,” he says, actually surprised although he should’ve expected it. Yoon Jeonghan is a liar, the voice of his classmates echoes in his head. Well, Lee Chan does not mind this at all.
“You’ve made it,” Jeonghan sniffles into Chan’s shoulder, “you’re all grown-up now.”
“Don’t be so cheesy,” Chan laughs, but he takes to rubbing Jeonghan’s back. “Did you sneak away from work to come here, huh?”
“Yes,” Jeonghan says, “but you can’t fault me. You basically did the same for me.”
“I won’t,” Chan assures him. And adds, “Isn’t that wonderful, though? To have a friend that’ll defy society for you?”
“That’s a fancy way of saying that you’d commit crimes for me.”
“It is, hyung,” Chan says, giggling into Jeonghan’s shoulder. “I’d save the world for you, too.”
And for once Jeonghan doesn’t tease him for being so cheesy, because they’re both relishing this moment – they know they’ll separate paths soon, Chan going to Seoul to study dance at a renowned university (“I’m so proud,” Jeonghan had said, with emphasis), so they do what humans do best – holding onto what’s about to slip away.
When they’re walking over to Jeonghan’s car, Chan gets a clumsily wrapped box out of his backpack, stored amidst crumbled papers, fresh flowers and a shiny certificate. “For me?” Jeonghan asks, face painted by surprise, even more so when Chan nods.
“Oh, Channie, that’s–” Jeonghan says when he opens it, marvelled at the sight of the chessboard, complete with a full piece set, “–wow.” And he turns to look up at Chan, eyes all wide, “You didn’t have to–”
But Chan just shakes his head. “We don’t always need a reason for things, do we? We can just be kind, because we love someone and wish to give them the entire world if we just could.”
Reaches out with one hand, wrapping it around Jeonghan’s palm, resting it atop the wood of the chessboard– “With this, you’ll always have a piece to remember these years by, to remember me by, and I hope–” Chan swallows, willing himself to hold back tears, “–I hope that we’ll still be able to see each other even just once in a while, and laugh together all the same.”
“Channie,” Jeonghan says after a long moment, “you’re really something else.” And his smile is brighter than the sun behind them, and Chan feels warm, happy, even if this is somewhat akin to a parting.
(But after all, when you’re about to lose something dear to you the best moment is to realise that it’ll come back to you again.)
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Chan says as he stands by the door, pulling his shoes on. He can see Jeonghan shaking his head even in his peripheral vision. He waits for a counter tease or anything, but nothing comes. Maybe Jeonghan’s out of ideas, or just–
When Chan looks up, Jeonghan is smiling at him. “Always, kid.”
Chan feels compelled to rub the back of his head. “I’m not a kid anymore,” he mumbles.
“You aren’t,” he hears Jeonghan say while Chan fumbles for his coat amongst jeonghan’s many ones, “but I’ll never stop calling you one still.”
“You are such a fake,” Chan says, muffled through impossible layers of clothing, “at my graduation you said I was all grown-up now.”
Jeonghan is grinning from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. “A grown-up child. A manchild.”
“That is not very nice,” Joshua pipes up, appearing behind Jeonghan with a box of his American tea for Chan. At least one ally he has in this house, good to know. “Thanks for the tea, Joshua,” Chan tells him, stuffing the box into one of his big coat pockets. At Joshua’s doubting stare he comments, “Bags are overrated! These pockets can fit anything, trust me!” He throws his hands up for emphasis, like Jeonghan does it often.
“I’ll stop calling you a child,” Jeonghan begins, lifting a finger up, “when you finally get yourself together and go to Soonyoung and–” he is stopped by Chan moving at an inhumane speed to cover up his mouth before he says something that could destroy Chan’s dignity in front of Joshua. If he still has any.
“Mhmpf,” Jeonghan attempts, trying to swatt Chan’s hand away, but Chan has always been physically stronger than this stick of a guy. Joshua laughs at them, and Chan wills himself to let go before he accidentally crushes Jeonghan against the doorframe or something.
“That aside,” Chan says, huffing, “I hope you stay well. Happy honeymoon? Whatever you say. Have a good time.”
Joshua says thank you like a normal person, cooing just a little, while Jeonghan jumps and throws himself around Chan’s shoulders.
“Great, I have a hyung permanently attached to me now,” he deadpans, but squeezes Jeonghan’s hand. Is he sniffling into Chan’s shoulder? Whatever. Jeonghan’s warm, and Chan feels compelled to laugh, the way you do when you feel just incredibly fond– “I gotta go though.”
Jeonghan detaches himself grumbling something about how time flies and all that. Chan chuckles at him, patting the guy on the shoulder once more. “Bye bye now.”
And longer, much longer, the warmth from Jeonghan’s house stays with Chan, lingering like a protective layer against the cold wind of the world. He tucks himself more into his coat, and smiles – because he knows that even after such a long time, all has stayed the very same.
The same warmth, the same teasing, the same laughter. The same Jeonghan that Chan has decided to befriend in highschool, even when he was getting a few weird looks for it – the one he has no longer in his vicinity, but still never lost at all.