Archive of Our Own

Yeosang doesn’t regret being friends with Wooyoung. At least, he doesn’t regret it on most days. Today, however, is not one of those days. He wonders if he’s happened to miss a national holiday called “Annoy the Living Fuck Out of Kang Yeosang Day” because Wooyoung’s endless efforts are almost admirable, if only he weren’t on the receiving end of it. 

“Yeosangie~”

“Stuff it.” And then he literally shoves a book in Wooyoung’s face, despite his whining. As expected, it does little to nothing to give Yeosang peace of mind. 

Luckily, the bookstore is calm and quiet, with only the faint rustling of pages and murmurs of conversation. Not that it’s ever very loud, but it’s especially silent today and Yeosang has never been this happy to have slow business. 

The store isn’t his; not technically. It’s his aunt’s, but because she’s always out travelling the world, she’s entrusted the keys to Yeosang. He considers it an honour and does absolutely everything in his power to keep it sleek and shining and perfect.  

“Yeosang!”

Except for that. 

Wooyoung is a (self proclaimed) lot of things, and being broke is the fundamental root of them all. He claims it’s because he’s paying for his master’s with his own money, but Yeosang has seen his bank statements before. He doesn’t think a new Rolex counts as university fees, but then again, he’s always been weak for Wooyoung’s pleading even if he denies it. He’s been weak since they met in eighth grade. At least he still has the power of violent denial on his side. 

So when Wooyoung had come to him with big eyes and a simple request, Yeosang had (regrettably) caved and hired him. 

A big- no, a massive mistake, as it turns out, because adding Wooyoung to a mix of quietness and serenity is nothing but a recipe for migraines. Specifically migraines tailored for Yeosang. 

He still loves him though. 

Crash.  

“Ow, Yeosang, help!”

Or not. 

At this point, Yeosang isn’t even surprised anymore to see Wooyoung lying beneath a toppled stack of boxes, boxes he had been supposed to throw out in the morning. Yeosang scowls, crossing his arms, and Wooyoung’s sheepish smile melts into a pout. 

“You’re not going to help me up?”

“Now why in the world would I do that?”

“Because I’m your best friend.”

Yeosang has half a mind to leave him there but he doesn’t want the customers tripping over the mess so he sighs and hauls the grinning child to his feet. 

“Aw, I knew you loved me.” There’s a smug smile on Woonyoung’s stupidly handsome face and Yeosang rolls his eyes. He opens his mouth for a retort… 

…and proceeds to sneeze in his face. 

“Yah!” Wooyoung flinches like he’s been slapped and if Yeosang weren’t so horrified, he would have laughed at the affronted frown on his friend’s face. Wooyoung starts yelling at him for his rude manners, but Yeosang isn’t listening; he’s too busy scanning the store for what he knows is already waiting for him. The store isn’t big; he sees him instantly. 

“Gotta go!” 

Before Wooyoung can even take a breath, Yeosang is scurrying away to hide in the back room. 

Now, there are exactly three things in the world that Yeosang is deathly allergic to: cats, dogs, and Park Seonghwa. Okay, so maybe he isn’t deathly allergic to them, seeing as he’s still alive and kicking (much to Wooyoung’s delight and Yeosang’s displeasure), but the sneeze attacks and itchy hives are enough to make him wish for death to descend upon him. 

Wooyung calls him dramatic, but he’s not the one who had to stay in bed for two days after a particularly rough encounter with a dog in third grade. Yeosang still thinks his lungs might have collapsed from the force of his sneezes. 

Where was he? 

Oh yeah. 

Park Seonghwa. 

While his allergy to cats and dogs has been established since his childhood, Park Seonghwa is the newest addition as of three weeks ago. Yeosang kind of wishes he never discovered it in the first place. 

It had been a peaceful day, a rare instance where Wooyoung hadn’t decided to test how much he could bother Yeosang without being thrown out the window. He’d been strangely attached to his phone, smiling in a way that simultaneously endeared and disgusted Yeosang. 

Everything was well and dandy, and Yeosang was up on a step stool, restocking the shelves, when Park Seonghwa rounded the corner. In his unbiased state of mind then, Yeosang was able to appreciate the sheer beauty of the man. He was stunning , and yeah, okay, maybe Yeosang had almost dropped the book he was holding to ogle at the man. 

Until the sneezes came and then he actually did drop the book.

Yeosang doesn’t even want to remember that day, because the force of his sneezes had actually knocked him clean off his stool. Next thing he knew, he was on the floor, in a daze, the beautiful man peering at him curiously. 

“Are you okay?” he had asked, and Yeosang had internally swooned because what in the fuck, why is his voice so smooth? That is, until he’d started sneezing again. It seemed to get worse with the man’s close proximity, and Yeosang had to suffer the rest of the day with a massive headache, itchy skin, and a stuffy nose. 

Since then, the man - Park Seonghwa, as Yeosang has found out from Wooyoung - has been a frequent customer of the store, and every time he’s within a ten meter radius of Yeosang, he starts sneezing. He’s convinced he’s allergic to the guy. Wooyoung finds it absolutely hilarious, and he doesn’t miss the chance to make fun of him every time he needs to escape to the break room. 

Seonghwa doesn’t seem to realize he’s the cause of Yeosang’s suffering because he continues to visit the bookstore way too often, strolling around leisurely while Yeosang has to hide pitifully in the back. 

Like now. 

He hears Wooyoung’s howling witch laughter before he sees him appear through the door. If Yeosang weren’t too busy sneezing his ass off, he would’ve thrown something at him. Probably the succulent wilting sadly by the window. 

“Dude, are you sure you’re not just gay panicking or something?” Wooyoung wiggles his brows suggestively. “The man is hot and we both know it.”

Yeosang answers him with a sneeze loud enough to echo in the small room. Of course, it sends his stupid friend spiralling into another fit of laughter. Truly, what did he do to deserve such an awful person as his best friend? 

“I’m telling you, I’m fucking allergic to him.” 

“That literally doesn’t make sense, but okay.”

“What doesn’t make sense about it?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, like Yeosang is an idiot. Even if he were one, which he definitely is not, Wooyoung would be an even bigger idiot. “You can’t be allergic to a human being, Yeosang. And one specific human being too. You’re probably allergic to his cologne or something.” 

That makes a lot of sense, surprisingly, but Yeosang is stubborn. Besides, he’s never smelt anything around Seonghwa so he’s fairly certain the other isn’t wearing cologne. 

“Whatever. I just wish he’d leave me alone,” he huffs, swiping at his eyes with a tissue when he sneezes again. 

“He’s actually really nice.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because I talk to him, you doofus.” Wooyoung drapes himself over Yeosang and bats his eyelashes and Yeosang is tempted to sneeze in his face again. He wonders if he could get away with calling it an accident. “He asks about you, by the way. Calls you pretty. Probably wants to bang you.” 

Yeosang sneezes in his face and then he cackles as Wooyoung sputters indignantly. Oh well, he deserves it. 

Yeosang really, really loves his lazy mornings. He doesn’t get them very often, considering he’s usually the one opening the store at eight in the morning. He’s not even a morning person, living by the belief that any human interaction before 9 am should be considered illegal, but he sacrifices a lot for the store. It’d taken the combined efforts of Yunho and Wooyoung and Yeosang’s own aunt to convince him to relinquish the extra set of keys to Yunho. 

Wooyoung had whined about not having his own keys but Yeosang would sooner set himself on fire than to give him a set, best friend or not. 

So when his Sunday morning is disturbed by a very loud, very persistent banging from beside his bedroom wall, Yeosang is less than pleased. Scratch that, he’s ten seconds away from unleashing his fury and wrath on whatever is on the other side of the wall begging for a death sentence by his own hands. 

The noises die down slowly, and Yeosang sighs happily, snuggling deeper into his warm nest of blankets and pillows. He’s constantly teased for how many pillows he has on his small bed yet his friends only fuel his (admittedly unhealthy) obsession. The two beside his head were from Wooyoung, Jongho had gifted him the strawberry one, Yunho… 

BANG BANG BANG!  

Yeosang’s eyes fly open and he throws the pillow he’d been cuddling at the wall, grateful that it’s not something that will do considerably more damage, like his lamp or something, even though it falls silently and sadly. He wraps one of his blankets around his shoulders, checks his phone and for fuck’s sake it’s only 7 am what the fuck , and then he’s stomping out of his front door without even bothering to check his appearance. He has a lot more to worry about other than making a good impression on his new neighbour, if the stack of boxes by the door is any indication. 

He’s beginning to feel a little bad because his new neighbour probably hadn’t been trying to wake him up but at the same time, it had sounded like they’d been repeatedly slamming an elephant against the wall. So he doesn’t really feel that bad anymore because who’s going to pity him for his loss of sleep? Besides, his hand is already knocking at the door. 

But the stupid fucking banging is still loud as ever and when Yeosang tries the door, it’s open.

Now, Yeosang in a stable and conscious mental state would absolutely never, under any circumstances, open the door and waltz into a stranger’s home. Hell, his extreme social anxiety prevents him from even speaking normally around people most of the time. 

But Yeosang isn’t stable or fully conscious at the moment. 

And so he enters the apartment. 

The first sign he gets that something is deeply wrong is when he sneezes. But it’s October and the weather has been chilling and Yeosang is only in his pajamas, so he doesn’t pay it any mind. The second and third signs occur in… yeah, no they’re still sneezes. Yeosang is growing suspicious, and by his fifth sneeze, he’s tipping over the edge of fury because he’s convinced his new neighbour must be harbouring a cat or dog in this mess of boxes even though the policy clearly prohibits pets. It’s the whole reason Yeosang rented it in the first place, after all. 

He ventures further in, driven by an annoyance at being woken up at the ass crack of dawn (it’s not really dawn anymore but Yeosang does not give a fuck) and the suspicion of the possible existence of a devil’s spawn. He finds someone in one of the empty rooms and- 

What the fuck, is he banging his head against the wall? 

Yeosang doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry or scream or kick the man. Maybe all. 

He’s about to knock and make his presence known (and maybe unload his rage onto the poor guy) but then he sneezes again, exceptionally loud in the vacant room. 

The guy positively screams , which causes Yeosang to jump and scream as well. He turns around to face Yeosang and- 

Oh for heaven’s sake, what has Yeosang done to deserve this in his poor life. He’s a good guy, he doesn’t litter, he’s respectful, he holds doors for people, he even helps lost children find their parents. So why has the gods decided to punish him like this? 

Because standing opposite of him is none other than Park Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa’s eyes go from panicked and terrified to confused and slightly guarded. Meanwhile, Yeosang shoves his blanket against his face and takes three big steps backward… 

…and proceeds to smack his head on the wall behind him. 

“Ow, fuck!” 

“Shit, are you okay?” Seonghwa moves suddenly, as if to come closer, and Yeosang positively flails . 

“Stay back!” 

Seonghwa stops, looking even more confused, but at least he’s not advancing menacingly towards Yeosang. He holds up his hands in surrender, and it would have been comical considering Yeosang is the one invading and trespassing in his home, but he has better things to worry about. Like how he can feel his skin itching already. 

“Um, are you okay?” Seonghwa asks again, and then he frowns. “And, uh, what are you doing in my house?”

Yeosang sneezes a good three times before he can answer him, and now his voice is stuffy and gross. “I live next door and your head banging woke me up. Please don’t do that. If you’re not going to die of a concussion first, then I will from sleep deprivation. And please don’t come near me. Bye.” 

Either Seonghwa doesn’t say anything or Yeosang doesn’t hear him because he’s already running out the open door and back into the safety of his own apartment. Where he promptly hacks out a lung. 

At least the banging has stopped. 

His hand is reaching for his phone and calling a familiar number before the smarter side of his brain can tell him why that’s a bad idea. 

“Kang Yeosang, you better be dying or I will end your life,” Wooyoung gumbles sleepily over the phone. “There is no good reason for you to be calling me at fucking,” a pause, “seven in the morning.” 

“I am fucking dying!” Yeosang hisses. “I got a new neighbour.” 

“Okay and?” There’s a rustle and then something that sounds suspiciously like Wooyoung shushing someone. But he lives alone, so Yeosang must have heard wrong. “What do you want me to do with this information? Is he hot?”

“No! I mean, well yeah, kinda, but no! It’s Park Seonghwa!”

There’s a silence, and when Wooyoung speaks again, he sounds considerably more awake. “Sorry, come again?”

Yeosang huffs. “My new goddamn neighbour is Park Seonghwa.” 

The line is silent for a second and there’s a brief moment where Yeosang thinks he might be able to receive some sympathy or even pity from his friend because it’s such a terrible situation- 

Oh yeah, no, there it is. The ugly, tell tale snort before Wooyoung is exploding into heaving laughter in his eardrum. 

Yeosang must have developed brain aneurysms if he thought Wooyoung would do anything other than laugh at his pain. 

“Seonghwa- you-” Wooyoung gasps out and god, he can’t even form coherent sentences with how hard he’s laughing. “He’s really your-” He dissolves into giggles again and Yeosang grits his teeth. The only reason he’s keeping his composure is all due to the graphic image of strangling Wooyoung he’s entertaining in his head. 

“Seonghwa-hyung is gonna love this,” an unfamiliar voice murmurs amusedly, and wait hold the fuck on. Wooyoung is definitely shushing someone now. Yeosang blinks. 

“Jung Wooyoung-”

“Ah, my pancakes are burning,” Wooyoung rushes out hastily. “I’ll see you at the shop later, bye!” 

And just like that, the call disconnects. 

And just like that, Yeosang’s brain disconnects as well. 

It’s been five days and Wooyoung absolutely refuses to acknowledge the voice Yeosang knows he'd heard over the phone call. Whenever he brings it up, Wooyoung only looks at him with big, innocent eyes and asks if he’s gone crazy. It would have worked too, if Yeosang hadn’t known better. He knows what he’d heard and most importantly, he knows Wooyoung. 

If it had just been a fling or something insignificant, Wooyoung would have already laughed it off. Hell, he might have even bragged about it to Yeosang. But the fact that he’s avoiding it means there’s definitely something going on. Yeosang can’t deny he feels a little hurt that Wooyoung isn’t telling him anything, but he figures he has a good reason. Besides, he’s fairly occupied with his own dilemma. 

Since his, ahem , encounter with Seonghwa five days ago, he’s seen the man every single day. Either they bump into each other leaving their respective apartments, or Seonghwa comes wandering into the store looking like a lost puppy. Whenever he catches Yeosang’s eyes, he waves in greeting but doesn’t approach him. Yeosang is just happy his admittedly brash warnings finally got the message across. 

It doesn’t stop him from chatting with Wooyoung, however. On a rare instance that Yeosang doesn’t run to the back room upon Seonghwa’s entrance, he sees his friend bounding up to the guy and hip checking him playfully. Yeosang admits he’d almost choked at that. He knows Wooyoung is friendly with him, but he hadn’t realized just how close they had become. 

Now, hold on a minute. 

A very real and very terrifying thought manifests itself into Yeosang’s brain and he physically blanches from where he’s spying on the two at the back of the store. He nearly smacks himself in his haste to whip out his phone and he watches as Wooyoung frowns at his screen. He glances around the store but he can’t see Yeosang in his hiding spot so he picks up. 

“Um?” He says as a greeting. 

“Get your ass to the back room!” Yeosang yells into the phone; or as much as he can yell without attracting the attention of the customers. 

“No? I’m busy right now.” 

“I swear to god, Wooyoung, come here or else I’m going to fire you.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“I would and I will.” 

Wooyoung’s enraged squeak tells Yeosang he doesn’t really believe him, but he still hangs up and excuses himself from Seonghwa dutifully. To Yeosang’s horror, Seonghwa actually reaches out and ruffles Wooyoung’s hair, the younger beaming at the casual action. Yeosang just about faints.  

Wooyoung’s steps slow when he sees Yeosang crouching behind a particularly big bookshelf. He scratches his head. 

“Were you spying on me?”

“Shh!” He pulls Wooyoung down and he falls on his ass with a grunt. “Answer me honestly.” Yeosang turns Wooyoung towards him and grabs his arms, looking into his eyes seriously. Wooyoung is starting to frown now, undoubtedly confused by Yeosang’s behaviour. 

“Sure? What’s going on?”

“Are you sleeping with Park Seonghwa?” 

Wooyoung chokes on his spit and Yeosang hurriedly slaps his palm against his mouth to muffle his coughing, which only serves to make him cough harder. Wooyoung shoves his hand away. 

“What the fuck, Yeosang? Have you gone insane? Why would you ever think that?” 

Yeosang glares at him, bristling under Wooyoung’s harsh tone. “Well what am I supposed to think when I see you getting all chummy with him? And I know what I heard on the phone the other day so don’t even try to lie to me.” His eyes narrow when Wooyoung opens his mouth to presumably argue. “You never go anywhere besides here and uni and I know you find all the guys in your program disgusting.” 

“They are,” Wooyoung grumbles, but he’s not meeting his eyes, which Yeosang has a big problem with. He grabs his face instead and turns him so he can look at Wooyoung properly. 

“Wooyoung. I don’t care if you’re dating him, even if I’m allergic to him. But I need to know so I can invest in a gas mask so I can meet him properly.” 

“Please, you can’t be serious right now.” 

“I am very serious. I have never been more serious.” Okay, so maybe Yeosang won’t buy a gas mask but he’s already contemplating the ways he can meet Seonghwa properly that doesn’t involve him sneezing fifty times in two minutes. Maybe he can stand fifteen metres away. Or maybe he can just Facetime them, but that seems rude. Maybe he does need that gas mask after all-

“Yeosang.” It’s Wooyoung who slaps his hands to his face this time, and he looks like he’s halfway between crying and laughing. “Yeosang-ah, I’m not dating Seonghwa-hyung.” 

Yeosang raises a brow, unimpressed. “Hyung now, huh? Didn’t know you guys were on ‘hyung’ terms. You sure you’re not dating the guy?”

“Just because you’re antisocial doesn’t mean I am. Someone has to keep good relationships with the customers and clearly that someone is not you.” Yeosang scowls but Wooyung flicks his forehead gently, sighing. “I’m not dating Seonghwa-hyung. We’re just friends.”

When Yeosang’s scowl doesn’t budge, Wooyoung sighs even deeper and then he’s wringing his hands nervously. 

“I’m kinda… uh… seeing someone?”

“Yes, I know that, idiot. Is that person Seonghwa?”

“Fuck no.” Wooyung pushes his hand through his hair so forcefully, Yeosang can actually see a few strands hanging limply on his fingers when he pulls them away. Honestly, he’s starting to feel bad about asking because Wooyoung looks like he’s in physical pain. “It’s kind of complicated. But it’s not Seonghwa-hyung.”

Yeosang almost wants to ask complicated how? but Wooyoung is frowning in a way that tells Yeosang he’s genuinely distressed. And now maybe he’s thinking of ways to decapitate the mysterious guy for making Jung Wooyoung, notorious for being a happy virus, look this pathetic. So he reaches out… 

And flicks him on the head. Hard. 

Wooyoung yowls and Yeosang doesn’t even shush him despite the curious glances of a few customers. He picks himself off the ground gingerly and offers a hand to Wooyoung. 

“If you think your sob story will get you out of working, then think again.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes but at least his brows aren’t pinched together anymore. “Get your ass back to work.” 

If Yeosang happens to send Wooyoung home early that night with a flimsy excuse, smiling secretly when he’s given a kiss to his cheek, then that’s between Yeosang and the books in the store. 

Wooyoung comes down with a nasty vertigo attack and Yeosang doesn’t even try to hide his overwhelming concern. The other sounds like he’s near tears over the phone. Yeosang is more than tempted to close down the shop but Wooyoung, through his slight sniffles, threatens to roundhouse kick him if he does. 

So here Yeosang is, drumming his fingers against his phone as he worries over his dumbass friend. He’s wondering if he can get away with closing the store an hour (or three) early when a man walks in. 

Okay, so a lot of men walk into the store but this one demands attention instantly. Yeosang’s eyes follow him as he fucking catwalks through the aisles, faintly wondering if his jawline and cheekbones are natural. There’s no way a facial structure like that can exist without some form of plastic surgery. 

The man stops in front of him and Yeosang has to mentally slap himself back into customer service mode, plastering on his best smile. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” 

“I’m looking for… um, Wooyoung-ssi?” 

Yeosang’s phone dings with a notification from Wooyoung then, like he’s making his digital presence known. “Ah, sorry, unfortunately Wooyoung isn’t in today.” The man’s face falls briefly and Yeosang looks at him curiously. “Is there anything specific you need him for? Would I be able to help you instead?”

“Ah, it’s okay, Wooyoung-ssi was just trying to help me find a book I was looking for last time but couldn’t remember the name of.” He shakes his head like it’s a fond memory. “I’ll come back next time he’s in, then.” But he makes no move to leave; instead, looking at Yeosang with a kind of fixation. 

“Um… sir? Is there anything else I can help with?” There’s a certain curiousness to his eyes that makes Yeosang squirm and while it’s not creepy or unpleasant, per se, he’s not exactly jumping in joy either. 

“So you’re Yeosang-ssi, right?”

Yeosang blinks, confused. He hadn’t worn his name tag today, so there’s no way this weird stranger would know his name. He narrows his eyes, suddenly cautious of this seemingly harmless man. The guy instantly waves his hands chaotically, realizing his mistake. 

“Oh, please don’t be alarmed, it’s just that Wooyoung-ssi talks a lot about you. He mentioned a pretty best friend who hired him and, well,” he gestures to Yeosang vaguely, “you certainly fit the requirements.” 

“Ah…” Honestly, Yeosang doesn’t really know how to respond to that. The guy is talking like he’s life long friends with Wooyoung, but Wooyoung has never mentioned meeting a guy who looks like he should be on the next cover of Vogue. And Yeosang is fairly sure he would remember someone like that if he’d been in the store before. 

Then the man looks him up and down once more before he fucking smirks at Yeosang, eyes gleaming with a mischief he’s seen way too many times on Wooyoung when he’s scheming something (usually something that involves Yeosang’s pain). “I have to say, Yeosang-ssi, you definitely are as pretty as I’ve heard. I can see why he likes you so much.” Before Yeosang can even think to open his mouth, the guy is laughing in good nature and walking out the store without so much as a farewell. 

Yeosang is so confused. 

On one hand, he doesn’t feel like the guy is hitting on him, despite his blatantly flirtatious compliments. Actually, it feels like he’s sizing him up, if anything. On the other hand, he definitely acts like he knows something Yeosang doesn’t and if there’s anything Yeosang hates, it’s being left out in a secret. 

And there’s the question of who ‘he’ is. He’s obviously talking about Wooyoung, but… well, he’s his best friend. Yeosang would be slightly concerned if he doesn’t like him, despite their constant bickering. 

Yeah, Yeosang is so, so confused. 

“Hey, how many hot people do you know?” Yeosang asks casually on a Tuesday evening, when Wooyoung is still recovering from his vertigo. Luckily, it’s not that bad anymore, but Yeosang still refuses to let him get off the bed. Wooyoung finds it endearing. 

Wooyoung looks at him like he’s gone insane. “Why?”

“Just asking.”

“Are you asking because you want me to hook you up with someone or…?”

“Answer the question, Wooyoung.”

“Well, there’s me, obviously-” 

Yeosang throws a marshmallow pillow at him. 

“Ow, okay fine .” He seems to think for a second. “Well, you’re more pretty than hot so off the list. Although there was that time where you signed up for the dance competition and you looked pretty hot and I think I turned gay then-”

“Stop getting distracted. Also you signed me up. And you were already gay then? You’ve been violently gay since ninth grade.” 

“Good point. Anyway. Maybe like… a solid five? Six if it’s a good day.”

“Mm.” Yeosang chews on a baby carrot thoughtfully. “Do any of them happen to be someone who resembles, I don’t know, a predatory animal? Like a fox or something. You know, sharp eyes, high cheekbones, a jawline that definitely isn’t natural and- wait are you okay?” 

Wooyoung looks like he can’t breathe, with how red his face is. “Yeah, peachy. Why do you ask? And, um, why do you ask about… him?”

“Oh, he came in the other day asking for you. And he was like… kinda weird about me? He called me pretty and-”

“He did what now?!” Wooyoung springs from his spot on the bed and Yeosang glares at him, unimpressed, before he shoves him back down. 

“Chill, what’s wrong with calling me pretty?”

“No, not that. He talked to you?”

“Yes?”

“Oh, fuck my life.”

“What’s wrong with talking to me? Is there something that I should know?” 

“Nothing that concerns your cute ass.” But the way that Wooyoung is typing furiously into his phone doesn’t convince Yeosang. “He’s a TA in my program and he’s really fucking annoying. Absolutely insufferable.”

And if Wooyoung says he’s annoying, then who is Yeosang to disagree with him? After all, Wooyoung is the master of annoying; he has a PhD in the realm of annoying someone. Yeosang would know. From personal experience.

Grocery shopping is surprisingly one of the few things about adulting that Yeosang actually likes. And because he has absolute assholes as friends who love taking advantage of him and his odd hobbies, Wooyoung and Yunho take turns bullying him into doing their groceries as well. 

And to think his initial impression of Yunho when he first interviewed for the job was ‘kind and friendly’. Now, more often than not, Yeosang is the victim of their combined teasing. 

He’s been in the store for about forty minutes now, still trying to find that damn cashew milk that only Yunho would drink (seriously, who the fuck drinks cashew milk?) when a pair of small children come sprinting down the aisle, screeching like banshees. In his haste to step back to avoid the kids running into him, Yeosang trips over his own feet and slams into the wire rack behind him… 

…only to have the whole thing come undone and crash down on him, the packets of jello hitting his head pathetically. 

The mother spares him an apologetic bow before running off to contain her hell spawns, who are still screaming and wreaking havoc. 

There’s a reason Yeosang doesn’t like kids and that reason is making itself abundantly clear right now. 

He sighs as he reattaches the rack and crouches down to begin cleaning up the knocked over jello. It’s about fifteen minutes from closing and he already feels bad enough for the poor workers in the store for having to constantly deal with raging customers. The least he can do is clean up the mess he made, even if he didn’t technically make the mess. 

Someone crouches next to him and begins silently picking up the packets with him. Yeosang thinks there are still good human beings left in the world. 

Once all the packets have made their rightful place back onto the rack, Yeosang straightens and turns to thank the kind stranger, only to have the words die on his tongue as he takes in familiar (when had it become familiar?) black hair and soft eyes. 

Upon recognizing Yeosang, Seonghwa’s eyes widen before he jumps back a good five feet, apologizing vigorously. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you, I’m sorry. I just thought maybe you needed some help and I know you told me to stay away and oh my god I’m so so sorry- ”

“Come here.” 

Seonghwa’s mouth snaps shut, and along with the guilty expression he’s still wearing that shouldn’t look as cute as it does, he looks hesitant and confused. “What? But you said…”

Impatient as ever, Yeosang marches over to where the other is standing and yanks him by his shirt. Seonghwa follows obediently, not pulling away even when Yeosang leans in closer and sniffs suspiciously. 

“What the fuck?” Yeosang mutters. 

“Yeosang-ssi? What… may I ask what you are doing?” Seonghwa asks politely, sounding faintly lost and baffled. 

“Did you change your cologne?” Yeosang demands, and he doesn’t even have the mental capacity to feel embarrassed by his boldness. Because he’s been in close proximity with Seonghwa for about four minutes and fifty two seconds now, and he’s yet to sneeze even once. In Yeosang’s brain, that’s the equivalent to breaking the laws of physics. 

“What?”

“Did you change your cologne? Or body wash? Or whatever?”

“...Not exactly? Why, um, why do you ask?” 

“That literally doesn’t make sense.” Yeosang is muttering more to himself than to Seonghwa at this point, but Seonghwa still looks to him, waiting patiently for an answer Yeosang doesn't have for the life of him. “There’s not a chance my allergy to you would just suddenly disappear but obviously it has to have disappeared because I’m not getting a reaction from being around you so I can’t be allergic to you, but that doesn’t explain the last month—”

“Wait, did you just say ‘your allergy to me’? You’re allergic to me?”

“Yes! Or, well, I guess I was? Obviously that’s not the case now because I’ve been next to you for, like, ten minutes now and I’m still fine, but why the hell-”

“Yeosang-ssi,” Seonghwa’s hand is around Yeosang’s arm now, and he shuts up like a charm, “do you happen to have an allergy to cats and dogs?”

Yeosang blinks. “Yes, but you’re obviously neither, so that still doesn’t explain anything.” 

Seonghwa stares at him silently, like he doesn’t quite understand what Yeosang is saying. 

Or maybe like he doesn’t quite believe the words coming out of Yeosang’s mouth because then his face stretches into a wide grin and then he’s laughing his ass off. 

Loud and bright and probably not very socially acceptable in the middle of a grocery store at 10:53 in the evening. 

But Yeosang doesn’t really care because he thinks it’s arguably one of the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard in his life. 

“Oh my-” he wheezes out, wrapping an arm around his stomach to stabilize himself. “Yeosang-ssi, you are absolutely hilarious.” When Yeosang doesn’t give him a reply, a tad too red in the face to be considered normal, Seonghwa manages to compose himself and wipes at the lingering tears in his eyes. “Ah, Yeosang-ssi, fortunately, it doesn’t appear that you’re allergic to me. You see, I work at an animal shelter near the bookstore so I usually have fur on my clothes when I go home or when I'm at the bookstore. Perhaps…” 

Seonghwa doesn’t have to finish his sentence. 

Yeosang has never wanted to dig a hole and deposit himself promptly into said hole more than he does right now. 

He groans, hiding his face behind his hands when Seonghwa laughs again, this time more gently (and somehow even more prettily?). “Oh my god, I am such an idiot. I have no brain. I am brain dead. Oh my god.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Seonghwa reassures him, though there’s still an amused smile on his face that doesn’t feel very reassuring. “You’re not an idiot at all, it’s just…” 

Yeosang isn’t feeling very convinced with the way Seonghwa trails off, trying to find the right word. 

“Dumb?” he suggests. 

“Cute.” 

“Huh?”

Seonghwa smiles at him and goddamn, is there a time where he isn’t smiling? before the store announces it’s five minutes from closing. Yeosang jumps, rushing to pay for his groceries and he hears the other following close behind. He refuses to look at him. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to recover from this earth shatteringly dumb mistake. 

Because honestly, why the fuck had his brain decided that out of all things, he would be allergic to a fucking human being? In retrospect, it doesn’t even make an ounce of sense. Yeosang kind of wants to cry. 

“So is that why you told me to stay away from you?” Seonghwa asks casually, like he’s talking about something else, literally anything that isn’t the source of Yeosang’s crippling embarrassment. 

“Okay, you know what? It made perfect sense in my head at the time.” 

“I don’t doubt it at all.” Yeosang doesn’t have to turn around to hear the smile in his voice, but he does so anyway. 

“So is there a reason why I'm not reacting to you now? I’m literally always sneezing around you regardless of if you’re in the bookstore or at home so what makes today different?”

“Oh, I had to deep clean my entire apartment.” Yeosang tilts his head quizzically and Seonghwa laughs. “My friend is the same as you; he’s heavily allergic to fur and he’s staying at my place for a few days. So it was either I get skinned alive for making him suffer or I get skinned alive for making him rent a room.”

“Sounds like an absolute pleasure of a person to know.”

“I know, right? Over the years, I’ve come to find out that all my friends are assholes.”

Yeosang’s mind flashes to Wooyoung. “Now isn’t that the same for me.”

The cashier gives them dirty looks for still being in the store one minute from closing, but honestly, Yeosang doesn’t even care. Seonghwa is nice to talk to, and he’s suddenly reminded of how often Wooyoung had praised the older. 

Damn it, he hates it when Wooyoung is right. 

“Did you drive here?” Seonghwa asks once they’re both outside. “I can give you a ride back if you didn’t.” When he sees Yeosang hesitating, he nudges him towards the empty parking lot. “It’s not like I’m taking a detour anyway. Unless…”

Oh no, Yeosang knows that look; he knows what’s coming. 

“Unless you’re scared you’re going to become allergic to me again.” 

“Oh, shut up!” 

Six months later, Yeosang has found himself close friends in both Seonghwa and his group of friends. It’s kind of surprising but not really at the same time; especially Seonghwa. He’s gentle and sweet and funny and all around a living angel on the planet. 

“I told you so,” Wooyoung had said to Yeosang. Or at least, he had after he’d managed to get over his laughing fit when Yeosang told him about his cursed mistake. He still thinks Wooyoung is missing a lung from how hard he had cackled at Yeosang. 

Even though his friend - Hongjoong - has moved out and found a place for himself, Seonghwa still cleans his apartment every week for the sake of Yeosang. At least, he had until he stopped working at the shelter. He’d claimed he was only working there temporarily until he found a better job. 

Regardless, he insists on Yeosang joining him at least four times a week for a home cooked, healthy dinner after he’d found out about the younger’s terrible eating habits. Yeosang pretends he isn’t touched by the gesture, but he knows Seonghwa knows him too well at this point in time. 

While he’s been steadily getting closer with his new friends, Wooyoung has been steadily getting more distant. He’s tried to corner him with concern disguised as petty, snarky words, but Wooyoung only offers him a pinched smile and an ineffective reassurance before he’s slipping away. Yeosang’s honest enough to admit to being hurt. 

So far, what he’s gathered is that Wooyoung is in a relationship-but-not-really with someone he’s not supposed to be involved with. Wooyoung’s been quick to assure him that the guy is single, none of that infidelity nonsense, but there’s an uncomfortable tension to him that Yeosang kind of hates. But nothing Yeosang says can convince him to reveal what’s bothering him. 

“He’ll tell you when he’s ready,” Seonghwa tells him for the tenth time that evening. He’s at the older’s apartment again, lounging lazily on the couch as Seonghwa picks a movie. “Wooyoung doesn’t distrust you; he’s probably just trying to work things through.” 

“I know.” But Yeosang is sulking. He knows he’s being childish but Seonghwa only reaches over to pinch his cheeks gently. “I just wish I could help.”

“Hm, I wonder if he knows how soft you are for him.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Hell no,” Seonghwa laughs, ruffling Yeosang’s hair affectionately. He tips his head onto Seonghwa’s shoulder, sleepy and tired. “I value being alive, thank you very much.”

“You act like I’m scary.”

“You’re about as scary as an angry kitten.”

“Hey!”

“But on steroids because your destructive power is terrifying.” 

“I don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a very skewed compliment.”

“Who knows? Not me, certainly.”

Yeosang is trying his hardest to keep his eyes open and focused on the movie playing on screen - he thinks it might be the new Spiderman - but movies always make him sleepy. Action movies are not an exception. Just before he’s about to drift off, Seonghwa nudges him gently. 

“Yeosang-ah.”

“No,” he grumbles, shoving his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder in an attempt to sleep. But his mind is already on full alert so what difference does it really make? “What is it?”

“Mingi really wants to have brunch with you and Woo.”

“I’m down.”

“...and the rest of us.”

“San?”

“San.”

“No.” 

“Oh, come on.” For as put together as Seonghwa looks, Yeosang has come to find out he whines. A lot. It’s surprisingly cute, and Wooyoung calls it double standards because Yeosang ignores him when he whines excessively. “It’ll be fun.”

“Hyung, we both know Wooyoung and San in a single enclosed space is never going to be anything near fun. It’s going to end up in property damage.” His mind flickers to a past memory, one involving escape rooms, a fuck ton of arguing, and an almost law suit. He thinks there might be crying in there too, but that might be the trauma messing with his brain. He can't be sure though.

Seonghwa doesn’t look swayed. “Things will be different this time. They’re older and wiser.”

“It’s been less than two months.”

“They’re less than two months older and wiser.” 

Yeosang sighs deeply. It’s not that he doesn’t want Wooyoung and San to get along. It’s just that Wooyoung and San don’t want to get along. Wooyoung has managed to become great friends with the rest of Seonghwa’s friends almost as quickly as Yeosang, if not faster than him. 

Except San. 

Yeosang is convinced they killed each other’s families in their past lives. There’s no other explanation as to why they’re positively murderous whenever they’re within a ten mile radius of each other. Jongho has jokingly called Wooyoung a drug dog on more than one occasion with how accurate his San-detector is (Jongho’s words, not Yeosang’s) and Yeosang is inclined to agree. 

It’s an unspoken rule now: wherever there’s San, there is no Wooyoung. Wherever there is Wooyoung, there is no San. It’s worked perfectly… well, most of the time, anyway. 

But of course, sweet and innocent Mingi wants to have brunch. 

He shuts his eyes and sends a silent prayer up to whatever god is feeling particularly merciful that no one kills anyone during this little outing. He certainly doesn’t have enough money to bail anyone out. 

“It’ll work out,” Seonghwa promises, and Yeosang hopes he’s right, for all of their sanity’s sake. 

“It’ll work out,” Seonghwa promises, but this time, Yeosang doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince Yeosang or himself. 

Considering there’s an egg currently decorating the wall where there hadn’t been one approximately twenty three minutes ago. 

It had started well enough, or as well as it could go with two nuclear bombs ticking away with the seconds. Seonghwa had reassured Yeosang, claiming they had a plan and that Hongjoong has a way to make them behave.  

Yeosang is pretty sure that includes a healthy amount of threats to both of their physical safety. Not that he’s complaining, really.

But somehow, in the midst of laughing at some lame joke Yunho produced, Wooyoung had accidentally knocked over San’s glass of orange juice. Which would have been fine if they had been normal people at a normal brunch. 

But no. 

They’re Choi San and Jung Wooyoung. 

Which means rather than handling the situation like proper and mature adults, San throws his fucking egg at Wooyoung’s head. Which he dodges. Which plasters itself onto the wall behind Wooyoung’s head, sticking with an impressive strength that’s unfortunately lacking from all of them at the table. 

Which brings them here, Hongjoong closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Even San and Wooyoung have enough self-preservation instincts to quiet down and look guilty. 

“Hyung, you’re a fucking liar,” Yeosang whispers, but Hongjoong must have heard it because his eyes snap open, focusing on Yeosang with a terrifying glare. He shrinks into his seat apologetically and Seonghwa wraps an arm around him protectively, hiding his laugh into Yeosang’s hair. 

“San-ah, Wooyoung-ah,” Hongjoong says, deceptively polite, eyes flashing dangerously, “would you mind stepping outside with me for a quick second?” 

Neither of them really have a choice because Hongjoong is already gripping them by the collars and dragging them out. Only Seonghwa is crazy enough to laugh at them. 

Jongho clears his throat. “So, whose brilliant idea was this again?”

Mingi timidly raises his hand. “I just wanted them to get along.” 

“Yeah, you and me both,” Yeosang mumbles, stabbing at his omelet viciously. He doesn’t get it; Wooyoung is notorious for being a social butterfly. He gets along with everybody. And it’s not that San is an awful person either, quite the contrary. 

Hell, when Yeosang had first met San at the bookstore, he thought they were already friends. He’d certainly acted like they were friends. Yeosang really wants them to be friends because he genuinely thinks they have complimentary personalities. 

But no, fuck it, they just want to murder each other with the nearest pointy object at any point of time. Go figure. 

“Maybe it’s best we don’t try this again,” Seonghwa whispers and Yeosang raises his brow. 

“You think?” 

He answers him by shovelling a bite of eggs into his mouth. 

Yeosang has been waiting outside for about ten minutes now, and while it’s not really that cold outside, he’s still fidgeting and shifting uneasily. He checks his phone for the tenth time that minute, hoping for a message from his Uber, but the only thing it displays is a picture of Wooyoung kissing his cheek. Oh, and the red battery icon that tells him his phone is about to die. 

It’s nearing one in the morning and in his slightly tipsy (or drunk, but he’s not willing to admit that) state, Yeosang is tired and drowsy and ready to fall asleep standing. He sits down on the cobblestone, uncaring of the dirt and grime sticking to his jeans, leans his head back and lets his eyes fall shut. A minute or two won’t hurt… 

… 

“...-ah. Yeosang. Yeosang-ah, wake up.” 

Yeosang groans when he feels a hand shaking his shoulder gently, swatting at it lazily. The person huffs, strangely sounding both endeared and concerned, but they just shake him a little harder. 

“Yeosang-ah, let’s go home. You can’t sleep in the middle of the street.” 

The thought of moving does not sit well with Yeosang so he shakes his head and burrows closer to the warmth he’s leaning against, hoping the mysterious person would get the hint. It’s really comfortable, to be honest, even more so when the person starts petting his hair softly. 

“Yeosang, as cute as you are right now, it’s really late and I want to get you home as soon as possible.” 

The voice sounds so gentle and warm and soothing and familiar and so much like… Seonghwa? 

Yeosang wills himself to muster enough strength to peel his eyes open and then he has to rub them a few times to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. 

“Hyung-” he winces at the dryness of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.” Seonghwa smiles kindly and helps Yeosang to his feet, guiding him to his car. “Wooyoung called me and said you never told him you got home safely so he got worried and asked me to check.” He opens the door and covers the frame to stop Yeosang from hitting his head, and maybe he’s still drunk because his heart leaps at the small gesture. “Imagine my surprise when I go out at four in the morning to find you only to see you snoozing without a care in the middle of the street.”

“Wait, what? It’s four already?” Seonghwa hums. “You went out to find me at four in the morning just because Wooyoung called?” Yeosang can’t help the surprise in his voice and Seonghwa looks at him sharply, almost like he’s offended. 

“Of course I did. I was worried too when I didn’t hear you come home. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Oh. 

Yeosang tries to ignore the weird clenching of his chest and looks out the window. It’s an awfully touching and sweet action… but then again, it’s Seonghwa. He cares for everyone. Yeosang has no doubts that he would do the same for Mingi or San. But still… he can’t help how his eyes are starting to prick uncomfortably with tears and he wipes them away before they can fall. 

Seonghwa notices, of course. 

“Hey, hey.” He rests a hand on Yeosang’s gently, concern pulling his features together. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t cry.” 

Yeosang shakes his head, giving him a watery smile. “No, it’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize. It’s just…” he trails off faintly and Seonghwa, patient as ever, doesn’t pry. “I’m not really used to having people worry about me,” he admits. 

“What do you mean?”

“My parents… they didn’t really plan to have me. And they were always busy, so I was by myself growing up. It got a little better when I met Wooyoung, but… I guess I’m not used to it.” 

“Oh, Yeosang.” Seonghwa squeezes his hand and Yeosang blames the alcohol for how fast his heart is beating. “I’m sorry you went through that. But we all care about you. We all worry about you. You’re a precious person to all of us.” He smiles comfortingly. “Do you really think I would leave my bed at 4 am just for anyone?” 

“Yes.” Because Yeosang knows he would. 

“Okay, but would I leave willingly at 4 am just for anyone? No. You’re the only one, Yeosangie.” 

Yeosang has to pretend the words ‘you’re the only one’ don’t do anything to his traitorous mind and heart. 

“Thank you, hyung. For everything.”

“Anything for you. Now get some sleep; we have a long drive home. I’m sure it’ll be more comfortable than sleeping on the ground.”

Yeosang is fast asleep before Seonghwa even finishes his sentence. 

“You have a thing for Seonghwa-hyung.” 

Yeosang spits out his guava juice. “Excuse me, what now?”

“You have a thing for Seonghwa-hyung,” Wooyoung repeats proudly, like Yeosang hadn’t heard him loud and clear the first time. 

“I fucking don’t have a thing for Seonghwa-hyung?” but it comes out like a question and Wooyoung immediately zeroes in on it. “Why are we talking about this?” 

“Because you’re sad and miserable and pathetic and I can only stand hearing you sigh so many times before I fucking roundhouse kick your ass.” Wooyoung points at him accusingly when Yeosang opens his mouth to protest. “And don’t you lie to me because I know you’re thinking about him. You’re in love with the guy.” 

“I don’t sigh that many times,” Yeosang retorts weakly, pouting, because it’s the only comeback he has. 

“You do. You’ve been in my house for less than an hour and you’ve already sighed fifty-eight times. That’s almost once every minute.”

“Okay, that has got to be an exaggeration. I did not sigh that many times.”

“Does it matter?” Wooyoung glares at him and Yeosang hides behind a pillow, only to have it snatched out of his grasp. “Point is, you’re head over heels for him.”

Yeosang wants to scream but he doesn’t want the neighbours to call the cops on him so he does the next best thing: he throws a dirty sock at Wooyoung’s face. 

“Abusing me isn’t going to change the fact that you like him.”

“Oh my fucking god, can you stop saying it? I don’t want to hear it.”

“For fuck’s sake-” Wooyoung pounces on him before he can escape and grabs his face, scowling. “Say it with me: I like Park Seonghwa.”

“No.”

“Kang Yeosang, say it with me or so god help me.” 

“Why the hell?”

“Because before you can do anything about it, you have to admit to yourself first. Now say it with me. I like Park Seonghwa.”

“I…” 

“Yeosang.”

“I like… fuck, this is so stupid.”

“Yeosang, I swear to god.”

“Fuck you, fine! I like Park Seonghwa!” He glares at Wooyoung. “Are you happy now?” 

“Very.” Wooyoung lets go of his face and sits back. “Now was that so hard?”

“Yes, you goddamn bastard.” 

“But don’t you feel better already? Don’t you feel like you let go of something heavy on your chest?” 

Yeosang pauses. He does feel like he can breathe a little easier. Actually, it’s the easiest he’s breathed in the last two weeks. His mind feels a little clearer and he doesn’t feel like testing the laws of physics by jumping off the roof anymore. “...fuck, I hate it when you’re right.” 

“I’m always right, darling. But the point is, you like Seonghwa-hyung. Are you going to tell him?” 

Yeosang looks at him like he’s grown another head. He might as well have. “No? Do you think I’m crazy?”

“And why the hell not? And don’t pull that bullshit with me about him not liking you because anyone with eyes can see he absolutely adores you.” 

Yeosang stares pointedly ahead, as if that will save his pride. “No, I know he likes me, but he likes everyone. He’s Seonghwa-hyung; he’s nice to everyone.” Even he can hear the wistfulness in his own words. 

“Yeosang. You’re hot and attractive and-”

“Don’t.” 

“I’m not joking.” For once in his life, Wooyoung looks dead serious and grabs Yeosang’s hands. “You’re smart and kind and sweet and genuine. You have a good heart. You’re a lovely person to know. I’m almost completely certain that hyung likes you. He’s not blind, you know.” 

Yeosang looks away. As embarrassing as the whole situation is, he’s still grateful that Wooyoung is there to pull him out of his self-deprecating mindset. Even if he only barely believes his words. 

“I don’t know…” Because he really doesn’t. He’s too scared to ruin their friendship, even if he knows Seonghwa would never judge him for it. He knows even if the other doesn’t feel the same way, Seonghwa is too nice to hate him for it or make things awkward. But Yeosang doesn’t trust himself enough to do the same. 

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

Apparently, the silence is answer enough because Wooyoung suddenly grins. Yeosang is instantly suspicious. 

“Don’t you try anything,” he warns. “I’m serious.” 

Wooyoung holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I promise I won’t do anything. Now are you feeling better? Because I refuse to stroke your ego some more. God knows how much of a god complex you have already.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one with a god complex. And I never asked you to stroke my ego, you just decided to.”

“Well, you looked like someone killed your puppy so…”

“Jung Wooyoung, get out.” 

It’s only two weeks after that before Yeosang realizes, oh fuck, I might be in love with this guy.  

They’re celebrating Seonghwa's successful job interview at a nice, fancy company, and even though Yeosang should be the one treating him to dinner, the older had insisted on cooking for the two of them. 

“I feel like I’m leeching off you,” Yeosang says from his perch at the kitchen counter, and Seonghwa laughs. He had never really gotten over Seonghwa’s laugh, and he’s just as enamoured now. 

“I’m not doing free labour, you know. Dishes are on you.” 

It’s a comfortable dynamic and it’s moments like these that are particularly dangerous; Yeosang’s mind has a tendency to wander into risky territories, and watching Seonghwa cook, still in a crisp white button up shirt under his apron, while bantering with him is quite possibly the worst combination in the universe. 

“Congratulations, hyung,” Yeosang says quietly, but Seonghwa hears him anyway. He gives him a soft, private smile, and Yeosang just about melts. 

“Would you ever consider going back to uni?” Seonghwa asks once they’re done with dinner and Yeosang is washing the dishes. Even though he had joked about Yeosang doing the dishes by himself, he still stands dutifully beside him, drying each dish Yeosang hands him. 

Yeosang pauses, thinking. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’ve just never really thought about it, to be honest.”

“You did your undergrad in business, right? Would you get your master’s in business as well?”

Yeosang passes him another dish. “Actually, I wanted to go into law.”

“Wait, what? Really? That’s so cool!”

“That was before.”

“What’s stopping you?”

The tap turns off and Yeosang leans against the counter, fidgeting with his sleeves. He can feel Seonghwa staring at him curiously. “I’d want to go to the States for law,” he starts slowly. “I got really high grades back then, did you know that? Took an LSAT and aced it.” He laughs when Seonghwa’s jaw falls open. “Didn’t expect that, did you?”

“No, no, I believe it. I’ve always known you were smart. So why didn’t you go?” 

“I’m not sure.” The hands of the clock tick rhythmically, counting the beats to the song Seonghwa has playing faintly in the background. Yeosang can't recall what song it is, but it sounds familiar. “I didn’t really want to leave here, I guess. I still don’t.” 

Seonghwa looks at him for a long time. When Yeosang finally gathers enough courage to meet his eyes, there’s an intensity to his stare that leaves him a little breathless.

“Hyung?” 

“I wouldn't want you to leave either,” he says softly, and Yeosang blinks. 

“Hyung?” Yeosang feels like he’s missing a certain meaning behind the words; they feel weighted and intimate and he doesn’t understand a single emotion that’s flooding Seonghwa’s eyes right now. 

“Yeosang-ah, imagine if you had left. I would have never met you! What a tragedy.”

The tension breaks, and Yeosang laughs easily along with Seonghwa. “I’m sure. Who else would make your boring old-man life interesting?”

“Hey!” 

“You know it’s true. Now get the cake out of the fridge. It’s tiramisu, your favourite.”

It’s a quiet May evening and Yeosang is finally getting around to reading the book his aunt had sent him over three months ago. He’s comfortable and sleepy and he’s content with letting his mind drift as the words lull him gently to sleep… 

The water pipes in Yeosang’s apartment burst with a loud bang that has him jumping out of his skin. 

Swearing up a storm, he runs to the bathroom and sure enough, water is already starting to trickle out. He calls his landlord in a panic, who tells him to shut off the valve to stop the water but adds that maintenance most likely won’t be able to fix it for another week. He doesn’t elaborate why when Yeosang asks, increasingly frustrated and panicked. 

His first instinct is to crash at Seonghwa’s, but the older is out of the city for an extended family member’s wedding. So Yeosang calls Wooyoung instead, and for some reason, he’s strangely excited to share his home with Yeosang. 

He even comes over to help Yeosang pack, throwing all of his clothes into an oversized suitcase and even some miscellaneous items, like picture frames and the abundance of pillows Yeosang has on his bed. 

“I want to make sure you feel right at home in my place,” Wooyoung says cheerfully when Yeosang questions him.

Not suspicious whatsoever. 

By the time Wooyoung is done, because really, he’d been the only one packing for Yeosang (another red flag; Wooyoung never does anything for Yeosang), the apartment looks next to empty. It looks like Yeosang is moving out, to be honest, and it unsettles him. 

“Wooyoung, don’t you think you went overboard?”

“Nonsense!” He begins lugging Yeosang’s belongings out of the apartment. “We’re going to have a blast.” 

“Um. Sure?”

Wooyoung grins at him genuinely and Yeosang decides to trust his best friend just this once. 

The creepy, uneasy feeling comes back when, after five days of living at Wooyoung’s place, he asks Yeosang to help drive his friend to the airport. His friend is moving away, Wooyoung explains, and she doesn’t want to pay for a rental on her last day. When Yeosang asks why Wooyoung can’t drive her, he simply claims that her luggage wouldn’t fit in his car. 

It makes sense, as Yeosang drives a bigger car, and it’s an innocent enough request, but something about the way Wooyoung chuckles to himself keeps Yeosang on edge. And maybe the way he checks his phone every two minute with a smirk to his mouth and a dangerous gleam to his eyes. 

“Wooyoung.” 

“Come on, we’re going to be late!” 

Wooyoung’s friend, Minsu, is a polite and sweet girl who looks just as confused as Yeosang feels about Wooyoung’s attitude. She thanks Yeosang profusely before she’s yanked into the backseat with Wooyoung. 

Yeosang tilts his head. “You don’t want front seat?” 

“I’m good here! Gotta spend some time with my dear friend before she leaves. Right, Minsu-ah?” 

“Right…” 

The car ride is relatively quiet except for Wooyoung’s incessant chattering, but Yeosang figures they’re both used to that already. Yeosang looks at Minsu through the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again. 

“Minsu-ssi, where are you moving again?”

She looks confused for a moment. “Huh? Ah, no, I’m not m- Ow!”

“Are you okay? What happened?” 

“Ah… sorry, I just knocked my hand against something.” But she’s glaring at Wooyoung. “I’m going to Hawaii.” 

“Do you have any family or friends there?”

“No, but I’m sure I’ll get by.”

“You’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t you?” Wooyoung asks sweetly, but there’s a certain insinuation to his words that confuses Yeosang even more. 

The rest of the ride is uneventful and they make it to the airport without another incident. 

Except Wooyoung drags Yeosang into the airport even after he’s fulfilled his duties as a driver. 

“Wooyoung, what are you doing?

“I want to say goodbye to Minsu and I don’t want you waiting too long outside.”

“I’m literally fine with waiting-”

“Nonsense.” And then he’s dragging the both of them into the airport, Minsu and Yeosang looking at each other like lost puppies while Wooyoung parades them around. When they finally arrive at the correct gate, Wooyoung plucks the boarding pass and passport out of Minsu’s hands and deposits them into Yeosang’s hands. He stares at them confusedly. 

“What are you doing?” he repeats; he feels like he’s asked this particular question at least fifteen times today. 

“Minsu needs to buy gifts for people in Hawaii and she doesn’t want to risk losing her documents.” Wooyoung smiles innocently. “So please wait here with the luggage and hold onto them until we get back~” 

He’s dragging Minsu off before Yeosang can even think to blink and wait, hold on a moment, didn’t she say she doesn’t have friends or family in Hawaii? but they’ve already disappeared into the crowd. 

So he shrugs and rolls the suitcases to the waiting area, plopping down with a tired sigh. These days, he feels like he’s running a race against himself. Since his, ahem, revelation with Wooyoung months ago, he hasn’t had the time to sit down and figure out what the hell he wants to do with anything in his life. He’s honestly content with how things are, but at the same time, he wonders if there could be something more… 

But then, like always, he closes those thoughts behind an enforced stone wall and refuses to think about them until he’s under the safety of his own covers at two in the morning. 

Wooyoung and Minsu still aren’t back yet and Yeosang is bored so he closes his eyes and lets the soft ambience of the airport filter out his loud thoughts. It kind of works, until- 

“Yeosang!” 

Ah. Now he’s even hallucinating Seonghwa’s voice. He chuckles to himself, partly amused and partly ashamed of how whipped he is. Oh well. He’s known that since three months ago. Longer, if he’s willing to admit it to himself. Which he isn’t. 

“Yeosang!” 

Wow, his hallucinations sure are realistic. It even sounds like it’s getting closer. 

“Kang Yeosang, don’t you dare go on that plane!”

What? 

Okay, yeah, that’s definitely not in his daydreams. 

Yeosang opens his eyes and stands, and sure enough, Seonghwa is sprinting towards him, weaving through the crowd clumsily, leaving a trail of annoyed, muttering people in his wake. He skids to a stop in front of Yeosang, panting and visibly distressed. 

Yeosang has to admit, this is a first. He’s never seen the other look this disheveled before: Seonghwa’s sleek black hair is mussed from his running, his clothes are wrinkled, and most importantly, he looks absolutely desperate. Yeosang hesitantly pats down a stray strand of hair on Seonghwa’s head, frowning. 

“Hyung, what are you-” 

Seonghwa grabs his arms before he can finish. “Yeosang, please don’t leave,” he begs. “San told me already, I know what’s happening.” 

Maybe Seonghwa knows what’s happening but Yeosang sure as fuck doesn’t. “I’m not- I don’t know-”

“I’m in love with you,” Seonghwa blurts out. His face flushes crimson at his confession but his grip on Yeosang doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens. And Yeosang… 

…well, Yeosang is busy trying to remember how to breathe. 

“I know this is such a good opportunity for you and I tried. God, I tried so fucking hard to be selfless and let you go but I can’t. I’m going to hate myself in the future but I’ll hate myself even more if I don’t tell you.” Seonghwa closes his hands over Yeosang’s and brings them up to his chest, face open and sincere and so terribly vulnerable as he looks into Yeosang’s eyes. “Yeosang, I’m in love with you. If you still want to go to the States, then I wish you all the best. But please, let me be selfish for once. Please stay here with me.”

Yeosang closes his eyes and slowly sinks to a low crouch, pulling Seonghwa down with him. Undoubtedly, people are looking at them curiously but he thinks that’s better than straight up passing out on the floor. 

Because his heart is working triple over time and he absolutely cannot fucking breathe. 

Honestly, what the fuck is this? A goddamn K-drama? 

Yeosang straightens again, dragging poor Seonghwa up as well, before he starts to pull away. Visceral panic and desperation flashes across Seonghwa’s face, stabbing straight into Yeosang’s heart, but that barely stings compared to the sad resignation that follows and the swell of tears in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

“Hyung, no, no, don’t get the wrong idea.” He slaps his hands on either side of Seonghwa’s cheeks, probably a little too hard, but he has other things to worry about. Mainly figuring out what the fuck is happening and making Seonghwa happy again. 

He wants to kick himself for making Seonghwa sad and he doesn’t even fucking know what the fuck he did.  

“I’m not- Hyung. I’m touched. Really. I… I didn’t… I mean…” Seonghwa is looking more and more sad with each word Yeosang struggles to come up with and when he begins pulling away, Yeosang fucking panics. “I’m also in love with you!”

And then he mentally slaps himself because what the fuck, couldn’t you have done it more eloquently?  

But at least Seonghwa isn’t pulling away anymore so Yeosang counts it as a win and powers on. 

“I don’t- this isn’t how I thought I would tell you but, well, okay, no, that doesn’t matter right now. Point is, I’m not leaving, Seonghwa-hyung. I was never leaving. This,” he gestures to the luggage, “isn’t even my shit, I’m just looking after it for Wooyoung’s friend.”

Seonghwa doesn’t look very convinced so Yeosang shoves the documents in his face. “Suitcases? Not mine. Ticket? Not mine. Passport? Fucking not mine. It says Lee Minsu, hyung. I’m not Lee Minsu. I’m just here to drive Wooyoung’s friend.” 

Seonghwa lowers the passport very, very slowly. “Then why…? I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, you and me both, hyung.”

“Sannie told me…”

Yeosang narrows his eyes. “What the fuck did San tell you?” 

“He said you got a university offer in the States. For law. I knew that was your dream back then… he said you accepted it but didn’t want to upset me so you didn’t tell me ahead of time. And then he said you were going to leave today… even your apartment was empty…” Yeosang sees the moment realization settles in because his gaze sharpens considerably. “God forbid.”

“They planned this.” 

“And I’ll bet they’re still here.” 

Sure enough, a quick scan finds a certain pair of brunets hovering by a souvenir shop, barely hiding behind a tiny magazine cover. They’re not even subtle about the way they’re spying on Yeosang and Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa’s eyes turn murderous and then he digs out his phone while keeping his gaze on the unsuspecting two. It’s almost comical the way San jumps when his phone vibrates and upon seeing who’s calling, the two of them turn their heads slowly in Seonghwa’s direction. 

Yeosang can just see the pure terror on their faces even ten metres away. 

Seonghwa smiles very, very sweetly, and holy fuck he’s terrifying . He’s even scarier than Hongjoong and Yeosang has never been more glad that he isn’t on the receiving end of Seonghwa’s rage. 

“San-ah,” he coos into the phone, voice dripping with sickly sweet venom. His other hand comes up to his throat. “Tell Wooyoung-ah that you both have three seconds to start running before I fucking catch you and make you wish you’d never been born.” 

Yeosang watches, half feeling sorry for them and half feeling smugly satisfied, as San just drops his phone in the middle of the store without a second's delay and bolts out the entrance, Wooyoung following close behind. Neither of them bother to check on the neglected phone, much less pick it up from it's new home on the ground.

Ever the gentleman, Seonghwa counts patiently to three before he goes on the attack and shit he’s fast.  

Minsu walks up to Yeosang and just shakes her head, apologizing for the trouble. 

“I already told Wooyoung it was a bad idea.” She shrugs. “But he didn’t listen.” 

“It’s not your fault at all,” Yeosang reassures her. “I hope you have a good trip, Minsu-ssi. And sorry for dragging you into… this… thing.”

Her lips quirk up into a half smile. “No problem. At least it was amusing. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you going to do now?” 

Yeosang sighs. “I suppose I’ll have to go save those two morons.” He can already hear Wooyoung’s screams echoing through the airport, garnering more than a few concerned looks. “After all, I have to make sure my new boyfriend doesn’t get arrested for first degree murder.”

(They manage to get out of there without any arrests, but only because Yeosang promises bloody vengeance as soon as they get home. He even tells Seonghwa he can do whatever he wants with Wooyoung. Wooyoung looks at him in betrayal but Yeosang only smiles an angel smile and tells him to fuck himself.) 

“Is everyone here?” Seonghwa does a quick count and frowns when he comes up with only six. “Who’s missing?”

Yeosang rolls his eyes, nudging his boyfriend. “Take a guess.”

“San?”

“San.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’s really not coming?”

It’s Wooyoung’s birthday and the six of them are gathered outside Wooyoung’s apartment building, ready to surprise him with food and gifts. Yeosang had texted San a week before, but as soon as he had heard the words ‘Wooyoung’ and ‘birthday’, he ghosted him. Yeosang was too tired to argue with him, having been swamped with assignments and exams. 

In the end, he had decided to go back to school, only he stayed in Korea with Seonghwa. The happiness on his boyfriend’s face when he’d told him was worth it. 

Nothing’s really changed much in the last few months, aside from Yeosang and Seonghwa. One thing he wishes has changed is the relationship between San and Wooyoung. After their satanic plot of the century (as Mingi has so graciously dubbed it), Yeosang thought they would finally become friends. But apparently, they’d agreed on a truce just for the sake of tormenting both Yeosang and Seonghwa. 

That had earned them another smack on the head from the both of them (and Jongho because he’d wanted to join in on the fun). 

Even now, San is the only one missing from their little plan to surprise Wooyoung. Yeosang is really thinking about giving up. 

“Whatever.” Hongjoong shrugs. “They’d probably just fight if he were here. Let’s just go up.” 

Yeosang is strangely giddy and excited and the surprise isn’t even for him. The elevator takes forever to climb and he taps his foot impatiently. Seonghwa smiles fondly at him. When they gather in front of the door, Yeosang gestures for them to move closer. The pin pad makes a lot of noise so he’s going to have to input the code quickly and open the door immediately to keep the element of surprise. 

He motions one, two, three… 

Yeosang punches in the code as quickly as he can and throws the front door open. “Surpri- OH MY GOD!” 

He screams. Wooyoung screams. San screams. Seonghwa screams. Yunho sc- 

Wait. 

San? 

Yeosang gapes at them while the rest tumble into the apartment, only to stop in their tracks and gape at them as well. Wooyoung and San stare back owlishly. 

“San, I thought you weren’t coming- wait, oh my god, are you two cuDDLING?” 

Yeosang wants to laugh at Mingi’s delayed realization but he can’t because he’s too busy hard rebooting his brain to try to comprehend the image that’s seared into his retinas. 

Because San and Wooyoung are on the couch together. 

Because they’re tangled together with a blanket thrown haphazardly over them. 

Because they’re fucking cuddling with each other. 

“Seonghwa-hyung,” Yeosang calls faintly. 

“Y-yeah?” 

“Am I dreaming?” 

“If you are, then I am too and that’s one fuck of a weird dream.” 

“Jongho.” 

“Hi, Yeosang-hyung.” 

“Am I dreaming?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Hongjoong-hyung.”

“Oh, fuck this.” Wooyoung throws the blanket to the ground and grabs San’s hand, marching up to them defiantly. “I’m dating Choi San. You happy?” 

A tense silence falls. Then- 

“Yunho.” 

“What’s up?” 

“Am I dreaming?” 

Wooyoung groans. “Kang Yeosang, fuck you. Truly.” 

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to think?” Yeosang thinks he can hear the slightest hint of hysteria in his own voice. But he thinks it’s rightly justified. “You two are always at each other’s throats! You can’t just tell me you’re together and expect me to be sane!” 

“...tending…” San mumbles under his breath. 

“What was that?”

“We were pretending… to fight… because Woo asked me to…” When no one graces him with a response, San sighs. “Look, I’m his TA. Or, well, technically, the TA of his prof’s afternoon class. But Wooyoung didn’t want to risk anything so we kept it private.”

Seonghwa frowns. “So why pretend to fight?” 

Wooyoung drapes himself dramatically over the kitchen table and San runs a hand down his back soothingly. Yeosang physically blanches at the foreign sight. “I didn’t want anyone to suspect anything,” Wooyoung mutters miserably. “And since Sangie met you guys, it became so much harder to hide it. I thought this would be the best idea and we just… well… we kinda ran with it.” 

“You didn’t trust us? You didn’t trust me?” 

Wooyoung’s head snaps up at the sharp hurt in Yeosang’s words. “No! It’s not that. I just couldn’t compromise Sannie’s job or my academics. We were going to tell you, I swear. Just… after I graduated.” Wooyoung groans again. “God, it was so fucking stupid, but by the time I realized, it was already too late. We’d gone too far with the fighting.” 

“That’s an understatement,” Hongjoong snarks. But Wooyoung doesn’t pay him any attention. He grabs Yeosang and pulls him into a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry, Sangie. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I was an idiot. I’m sorry.” 

Yeosang breathes once, twice, three times, and then he wraps his arms around Wooyoung and squeezes him back just as tightly. “Yeah, you’re a fucking idiot,” he agrees, “but you’re lucky I love you. As long as you’re happy, Woo.” 

Wooyoung breathes a sigh of relief and Yunho claps his hand, ever the energetic one. Before Yeosang can fully disengage from Wooyoung’s vice grip, Yunho is already bounding up to him and shoving the cake in Wooyoung’s hands. 

“Happy birthday! Let’s have cake!”

“It’s noon.”

“Let’s have cake!” 

They scatter around the apartment after they cut the cake, and no matter how hard Yeosang tries, he can’t keep his eyes away from Wooyoung and San. They’re still bickering, but there’s a tenderness and affection to their words that hadn’t been there before. 

But if Yeosang sifts through his memories carefully enough, he realizes that that affection had always been there, hidden under layers of malice and vicious bite. They had just all been too blind to notice it. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know?” 

Yeosang smiles at Seonghwa. “It’s going to take some getting used to, seeing them like this.”

“You’re telling me,” he laughs. “I keep thinking they’re going to start fighting again.” 

San says something that makes Wooyoung smack his arm indignantly, but they’re both laughing brightly, and Yeosang finds himself grinning as well. “I wonder how hard it was, keeping it a secret. Not even keeping it a secret, but having to act like they hated each other.” 

“I don’t know, but I’m glad we never had to go through that.”

“Yeah. We were just both idiots.” 

“That we were.” 

A shriek catches their attention and they both turn their heads to find San laughing uncontrollably while Wooyoung chases him around his kitchen. There’s blue frosting smeared on the tip of his nose. 

“Choi San, I’m breaking up with you!” 

“Jokes on you, you’re stuck with me forever!” 

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Old habits die hard, I guess.” 

“I always knew they would look good together.” 

“That’s my line.”

They don’t get to argue over who’s right because just then, a dollop of frosting lands in Hongjoong’s hair and both San and Wooyoung freeze in their tracks, looking at each other in cold fear as the blood drains from their faces. Hongjoong reaches up and swipes at the frosting, deadly calm, before licking it and turning his eyes to the couple. 

“Choi San. Jung Wooyoung.” 

The last thing the group hears is screaming from the two and violent threats from Hongjoong before they’re dissolving into laughter themselves.