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Seungkwan holds on to Seungcheol’s shoulder to keep steady, breath misting over his mouth to signify that it’s cold (it’s winter, really), but he’s sweating inside his clothes. Seungcheol wraps an arm around Seungkwan’s waist, keeps him close to him. They walk like this for a few meters until they reach the corner and Seungcheol nudges Seungkwan to let go so he can buy a pack of cigarettes from the vending machine.
At this point, Seungkwan just sits himself on the curb, silent and staring at the stoplight, waiting for Seungcheol to take his place next to him so he can lay his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “You’re my new best friend,” he says while Seungcheol lights up a cigarette.
Seungcheol laughs then sucks his breath in through his teeth. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re nice. You hold me. You listen to me,” Seungkwan answers. There is no one else on this street but them, no cars ambling along. It’s scarce and silent, diminishing them. Seungkwan waits for the inevitable one-armed hug Seungcheol pulls him into.
“No, you’re just saying that,” Seungcheol tells him before putting the cigarette back into his mouth with his free hand.
“I’m not, though,” Seungkwan argues. “I’m dead serious.”
“You’re also drunk.”
“What’s that saying about drunk people and honesty again? How’d that go?”
“Something like this, probably.”
Seungkwan leans in a little bit closer, buries his mouth into the fabric of Seungcheol’s sleeve. “I really do mean it,” he says again. “You make me feel seen.” The way his weight settles on Seungcheol signifies that he’s there somehow existing.
Seungcheol hums then finishes the rest of his cigarette, tamping it underfoot with his shoe. He fishes out another one from the pack without letting go of Seungkwan, the smell of his fingers stained with tobacco right under Seungkwan’s nose. “I used to live in this part of town,” Seungcheol says as he points up at a building with his left hand. “Right there.”
“How was it?”
“Horrible. We’d only get heating every other month.”
“And you keep coming back.”
Seungcheol frowns and his brows knit together. “Huh.”
“Did you really not notice? You’re kinda dumb.”
“Is this how you treat your best friends?”
Seungkwan grins up at him. “Just you.”
“Light this for me?” Seungcheol asks. He places the cigarette between his lips and waits for Seungkwan to get the lighter from his pocket, holding the flame close to him. “How about you?”
“Me?”
“Where do you live?”
“Far,” Seungkwan answers. In the biting cold, he just moves closer to Seungcheol, seeking his warmth. He smells like alcohol and smoke from the barbecue restaurant—it’s overwhelming but Seungkwan doesn’t mind if it means staying in Seungcheol’s arms.
Seungcheol hums.
“Do you wanna go?”
At that, Seungcheol stands up suddenly, dragging Seungkwan along with him. “Let’s go.” He finishes off what he was smoking then breaks out into a run towards the train station, leaving Seungkwan to chase after him.
“Hey, don’t leave me here!” Seungkwan shouts as he bounds after him.
Seungcheol laughs, wildly and freely, arms spread open. “Catch me!”
“I’m gonna vomit!” Seungkwan whines as he slows down to a brisk walk. Before he knows it, Seungcheol has materialised beside him again, keeping him steady.
“Are you okay?”
Seungkwan breaks out into a laugh and has to stop to double over. “Oh my god, you’re so gullible,” he wheezes.
Seungcheol looks upset for a brief moment, his face contorting into a frown, before he starts laughing too. They hold the banister leading down to the station and rest on the steps to catch their breaths. “I’m gonna leave you here next time,” Seungcheol warns.
“No,” Seungkwan tells him with another short burst of laughter as he rests his cheek on the cool metal, “I don’t think you will.” They are the boy who cried vomit and the boy who’ll catch him when he does.
“Let’s go before the train closes,” Seungcheol says with finality as he stands up. He holds his hand out to Seungkwan and leads him down the stairs at an absurd pace, their hands over the banister with Seungkwan afraid to let go until they’re sitting down inside the train. Even then, Seungkwan is reluctant.
“I will vomit,” Seungkwan threatens as he leans his head back against the window and closes his eyes. Over his face, he can feel Seungcheol peering at him with glee.
“Do it.”
With his free hand, Seungkwan pushes Seungcheol’s face away. “You’re gross,” he complains loudly though no one else is on the train to hear him. He cracks his eyes open and sees Seungcheol fishing earphones out of his pocket and trying to undo the tangle it’s in with one hand.
“What music do you like?” Seungcheol asks.
“Ballads.”
Seungcheol snorts. “Of course you like ballads.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Seungkwan asks. Magnanimously, he decides to help Seungcheol with the earphones then places the other bud in his ear.
“You just seem like a sentimental guy,” Seungcheol tells him simply as he scrolls through his phone for a song to listen to. He settles for an old song, something Seungkwan’s parents would listen to back in the day, the music blaring from a bus speaker or radio, then stretches his legs out over the floor.
“You’re sentimental, too,” Seungkwan points out as they listen to the song over the hum of the train on the tracks.
Seungcheol laughs and says, “I guess you’re right. I fantasised about having a great love where I confess on top of a mountain under a million stars. Our first kiss in the dark, feeling like it’s only the two of us in the universe.”
“I want something that sneaks up on you,” Seungkwan tells him, but his mind wanders to an image of him kissing Seungcheol under a starlit sky, grass underfoot and a light breeze. “Like, you don’t know it yet, but you’re in love. That kind of thing.”
“That must be great,” Seungcheol sighs.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Once. Or twice.”
“No great love?” Seungkwan teases.
Seungcheol shakes his head. “I confessed at a bus stop out of nerves. Just blurted it out like a damn idiot.”
“How did it go?”
“Went well. He smiled and kissed me before I got off.”
“Wow,” Seungkwan breathes out. “I’ve never had that.” The song switches into another old one, but he’s not paying attention anymore. The unfamiliarity of it washes over him. “Must be nice.”
“Yeah,” Seungcheol says wistfully, keeping his eyes on the seats across from them. His thumb rubs absentminded circles on the back of Seungkwan’s hand. “I wanted to go traveling alone, too. Meet people and see things.”
“Where did you want to go?”
“Europe. Italy, Spain,” Seungcheol answers. “I like that old world charm, the old buildings.”
“Romantic. I wanted to rent a car and drive around America.”
“When’s that gonna be, right?”
“Don’t make me sad,” Seungkwan admonishes him. “You’re attracting fear into my life and I hate it, thank you very much.”
“What, the fear of not being able to do anything?”
“Well, yes. Exactly that. I wanted to be a variety show host, not a marketing gay,” Seungkwan tells him with a derisive snort.
“Is that a thing?” Seungcheol asks, his brows knit together.
“Marketing gays? Yeah. Half my department is gay.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “But, yeah. I wanted something big or to do something really fun and exciting. You can call me an attention whore if you want. I just think everyone dreams of that, has that fantasy of, like, greatness, you know? Whatever greatness means to them.”
Seungcheol stares at Seungkwan as if he’s seeing him for the first time. Seungkwan feels self-conscious and withers under the gaze but he holds himself steady. “Haven’t thought about that,” Seungcheol admits, his voice low, “but I guess that’s all the things I wanted. Just things that seem like they’re from a movie or sound grand. I’m not winning the Nobel Prize for HR or anything like that.”
“Okay, Employee of the Month ,” Seungkwan mocks, making Seungcheol laugh.
“You are so annoying.”
Seungkwan shrugs. “It’s a gift.”
“You must not have a lot then,” Seungcheol quips. He laughs again when Seungkwan petulantly sticks his tongue out at him.
“Oh, we have to transfer here,” Seungkwan tells him. He takes the earbud and returns it to Seungcheol. Their hands naturally fall apart as they make their way to another platform.
Seungcheol picks up Seungkwan’s hand again as soon as they’re seated inside the next train, this time turning it around and feeling the surface of Seungkwan’s palm.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to learn how to palm read,” Seungcheol explains.
Seungkwan feels his breath catch in his throat as Seungcheol traces the lines on his palm. “Try it,” he says with a slight cough. “We can look up a guide online or something.”
Smiling, Seungcheol takes out his phone and types out something. He leaves it open on a website and rests the phone on his thigh, referring to it as he reaches for Seungkwan’s right hand. “This is the hand that has everything you ever accumulated in your life,” he starts, reading aloud from the screen, “then the top one is your heart line. It starts below your middle finger, which means you’re selfish when it comes to love.”
“Fuck me, I guess,” Seungkwan exhales with a shaky laugh.
“Your head line is sloped and curved, showing creativity,” Seungcheol then says. He shows the line again to Seungkwan, starting from the edge of his hand under the index finger and moving outwards and downwards to the the wrist.
“This is your life line. It’s curved too, but not too close to the thumb. You have a lot of vitality.”
“What else?”
“That’s all I can do,” Seungcheol says then drops Seungkwan’s hand unceremoniously.
“You just told me I’m selfish in love then stopped?” Seungkwan demands.
“Boo Seungkwan, the site is so long,” Seungcheol complains. “There’s a reason people charge you for this.”
“Hyung,” Seungkwan whines, “can’t you at least explain what ‘selfish in love’ means?”
Seungcheol pretends to fall asleep, his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest. Without opening his eyes, he says, “It probably means you just take from your partner without doing anything in return.” At Seungkwan’s silence, Seungcheol tells him, “You know, I have no idea what I’m doing. I could be wrong.”
“You could be right.”
“Stop sulking,” Seungcheol sighs, exasperated. “I’m sure you’re fine.”
Seungkwan looks at his heart line again and traces it lightly with his palm then looks back up at Seungcheol, who is glancing at him from the corner of his eye.
To put it kindly, Seungkwan’s apartment is sparse. To put it bluntly, the bed is a mattress on the floor and the furnishings are haphazardly arranged around it. Seungcheol doesn’t know where to put the plastic bag of canned beer they bought from a convenience store on the way until Seungkwan tells him to put it on the fridge before settling on the mattress to dig his sock-covered toes into the surface.
“Sorry about this,” Seungkwan tells him. He accepts an open can from Seungcheol then makes space for him on the bed. “I’m saving up for good furniture.”
“I don’t mind.” Seungcheol sits on the foot of the bed and sips on his beer. “It’s cute.”
“You’re just saying that,” Seungkwan deflects.
“Yeah, I am,” Seungcheol admits with a laugh. “Sorry.”
Seungkwan rolls his eyes but he laughs, too, his thumbnail playing with the rim of the can. “Whatever. In six months, it’ll look nice, and you’ll eat your words.”
“Can’t wait to see it.”
“I’ll invite you.”
“How sweet.”
“Yeah. I’m thinking of getting a candle warmer. I’ll put it on the desk.” Seungkwan points his finger at the small desk where his laptop rests.
“I’ll buy it for you,” Seungcheol offers, “as a gift from your new best friend.”
Seungkwan scoffs but doesn’t try to hide how pleased he is. “Get me a nice candle, too, hyung. Something expensive.” To his surprise, Seungcheol only nods his assent, and Seungkwan hits him on the shoulder. “Hey, you’re being too nice. People are gonna take advantage of you,” he tells him off.
“It’s okay. I really do think kindness goes a long way,” Seungcheol says to defend himself.
Seungkwan feels the urge to embrace him and so he does, feeling the soft fabric of Seungcheol’s knitted sweater on his forehead and cheeks. “Look at you being so kind,” he coos. His voice comes out muffled. “I really made the right choice sitting next to you at the company dinner.” Seungcheol poured water into his cup without needing to be asked, which made Seungkwan fall in love.
He feels a hand on his hair, a solid presence stroking him, soothing him, letting him know things are alright.
“You’re embarrassing me,” Seungcheol tells him softly, but he makes no move to get Seungkwan off of him. Instead, he drinks his beer with one hand while the other arm circles around Seungkwan.
Seungkwan lets go on his own after a few minutes then opens his beer, chugging it to about halfway before setting it down on the floor next to the mattress. He lies down and looks up at the ceiling then at Seungcheol’s back as he checks his phone. The lamp puts streaks of warmth in his hair, dispersing as Seungcheol runs his fingers through it.
“Can I stay the night?” Seungcheol asks, his phone clicking shut. He lies down next to Seungkwan. Their feet touch and Seungcheol flushes at the contact like a schoolgirl.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“If I’ll see you again.”
Seungcheol laughs. “Yeah, of course you will.”
“Do you mean that?” Without meaning to, Seungkwan’s voice had become small and dissipating.
“Yes,” Seungcheol drawls, elongating the vowel into a long exhale. “I want to.”