Work Text:
He takes a long drag of his cigarette, the cigarette almost coming to an end of its lifespan, small traces of ash flying everywhere, some catching on the wool of the jumper he was sporting.
Wonwoo never liked smoking but he was damned if he was gonna start drinking again. He shudders suddenly, as if shaking off the horrific thought of that ever happening to him again. Oh, it was hell. If he was gonna die, let it be a sophisticated death of inhaling a shit ton of nicotine. Let go and let God or the universe do whatever it is they want with him.
He reaches into his pocket to retrieve a new cigarette to replace the one in his mouth only to find that his left hand comes back up, painstakingly empty. Goddamnit, could this day get any worse? He gives up on his mission of finding a substitute to put in his mouth and chooses to look outside the window instead.
The only reason, actually, he is suddenly reminded of this memory now, he bought the apartment was because of the huge windows placed in the centre of the house. Wonwoo liked the windows because they made him feel alive.
Across his building was another apartment, quite like this one, boring, dingy and just downright creepy (he always felt something off about this building, especially during those cold, first nights but all he thought of was the windows, the windows, think about the windows ).
He never bought curtains or covered them up because what did he need privacy for? His life was certainly not worthy of being stalked or gawked at, he never had to worry about this. And he’s glad for that.
But the windows, they bring him great joy and delight which is, when you think about it, actually quite concerning for a single man in his late 20’s. Wonwoo feels that small joys like this are equivalent to extravagant ones, that joy was not even able to be put at value. If one enjoys something then they should embrace it.
Another thing about the windows was that, as much as Wonwoo knew that his life could not be envied by someone, being a hypocrite himself, he did like to indulge in his guilty pleasure that is people watching.
No, he doesn’t watch people in a creepy way (believe him, he has tried and every time, he could not bring himself to like that feeling – it made him feel nauseous, as if he had broken into each person’s home, awaiting their arrival like an intruder by every passing second) but instead finds each individual he sees more interesting than the last. He conjures up stories for them too, stories of each person as creative as he can get, knowing they were all living such happy lives.
He, of course, knows that this isn’t true, he’s not that delusional. But he likes thinking of it that way, he wants people to be happy, to have lived happy lives, to come home at the end of the day and slip into their bed thinking “I could not ask for something that is better than this. This is my life and I am content”.
He hated the fact of knowing that people’s lives were maybe, well, as mundane as his.
Wonwoo notices a few grey clouds hovering by, barely there but somehow stands their presence in a conspicuous way. He smiles at this. It will rain. It is going to rain and when it does he will be running down all seven floors of his dingy apartment and into the rain, that familiar feeling of being in his element, slipping into his own world.
Wonwoo loves the rain. He wished it would rain all summer but to no avail, it didn’t. Summer ends in a few more days and he realises that this is the first rain ever since summer started.
He somehow ended up out on the street already, his thoughts substituting his physical self instead. Wonwoo stands there in the rain and thinks. He wasn’t always like this. But he doesn’t remember how it got as bad as this. Where it started and where it ended. Everything just kind of went haywire and blurred abruptly, right in the middle. He smiles bitterly to himself, shaking his head at nothing in particular.
He starts to laugh. A shrill sound comes out of his throat, alarming him. He looks around. The streets were empty. Of course they were, it was fucking pouring . It takes him a second to realise that he was the one who had made that sound. He didn’t realise his laugh could sound something so foreign to him.
“Uh… are you okay?”
Wonwoo whips his head to the side, startled by the burst of colour coming into his blurry view (he forgot to put on his glasses and the rain wasn’t helping his eyesight either). For a second, all he could see was the auburn red colour burning into the depths of his skull, permeating the area there. What an odd colour to dye your hair.
“Hello? I just asked if you were okay but clearly you aren’t. Listen dude, it’s raining cats and dogs out here and you’re obviously not feeling well, let me take you inside.” Before Wonwoo even had a chance to react, the stranger with the interesting taste in hair colour dragged him into the small convenience store adjacent to his apartment by the collar of his sodden jumper.
Blinking in the fluorescent LED lights, Wonwoo’s vision starts to slowly adjust. He shivers involuntarily due to the air conditioners on full blast but being inside the store was definitely warmer than being out there. He realises the temperature change only after being knocked into his senses – he could have fainted out there or, even worse, get pneumonia.
Auburn Red Guy clears his throat, directing Wonwoo’s attention solely towards him. He was standing at the counter, just right behind the cash register. He was wearing a vest that had the convenience store’s name on it over a black polo shirt. Right. He should probably thank the poor guy for getting himself involved in Wonwoo’s shit. He starts to slowly walk towards him, the distance between them getting shorter by each step and his vision clearing up gradually.
Holy shit. The dude is pretty. He realises, upon closer inspection, the auburn red hair is actually a pretty faded red, the dark roots in the centre of his scalp already prominent. However, the tips of his fringe are tinged a lighter red, attractive albeit a little uneven. Seems like the dude has had some pretty fun DIY nights with box dye.
“Hello. Sorry for… everything. I don’t really know what came over me. Things have been pretty rough lately, I didn’t seem to mind being outside but I realise now that it wasn’t the wisest choice I’ve made,” Wonwoo abruptly shuts up, screwing his lips tight shut into a straight line. He was rambling and Auburn Red Guy was just staring at him, eyes wide with confusion mixed with.. curiosity? His round eyes seemed to be sparkling, somehow. It sent shivers down Wonwoo’s spine – in a good way.
“Sorry. I seem to be spiralling. Anyway, thank you. Really.”
Auburn Red Guy jerks his head suddenly, as though he was just snapped out of a trance he was in. Shaking both hands in the air, he tells Wonwoo not to worry. It was really fucking cute actually, Wonwoo was having an even harder time trying to keep his composure.
“You saved me actually. It was a really slow day today,” he points his head towards the window outside. “‘Cause of the rain. Hell, it isn’t even packed on a good day. Everyone seems to have succumbed to the world of technology and doesn't even bother to go out anymore.” He rolls his eyes at the last statement he made and Wonwoo giggled.
That’s strange. The sound that came out wasn’t the piercing sound he heard earlier. It sounded warm. It sort of felt like eating a bowl of warm soup on a cool day.
Auburn Red Guy’s face lights up at Wonwoo’s giggle. “Oh! Where are my manners? Hello my good Sir, Kwon Soonyoung at your service!” He uses his right hand to salute and ends his little customer service performance with a wink. So fucking cute.
“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo tests his name out and thinks that the name rolls off of his tongue nicely. He decides that he likes it.
“I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo.” Soonyoung (Wonwoo’s glad he doesn’t have to keep calling him Auburn Red Guy in his head) outstretches his hand, gesturing for a handshake. Wonwoo gladly accepts it. Soonyoung’s hands are soft – so soft, he’s really struggling to choose whether to blurt out this piece of information or store it away inside his mind and keep it there – and warm in such a small space.
There seems to be something else lingering around the area of their clasped hands because the both of them seem to notice it too.
Wonwoo lets go first, clearing his throat. “Right, so… you work here? I might as well buy a pack of cigs as a sign of gratitude. You work on commission right?”
Soonyoung blinks once, twice and then smiles. “Yes. What brand do you prefer?”
They exchange money for a Malboro packet and Wonwoo walks out with Soonyoung’s number scrawled on the back of his receipt. Wonwoo suddenly stops and stands outside, shaking his head in utter disbelief. He smiles. He could be happy if he wanted to, he really could.
It’s been a few months since the incident with that cute weirdo. The one with the choppy haircut and his rain-soaked jumper. Soonyoung felt like they were fated to have found each other. He has always believed in the mystical world of the unknown, what with being a hopeless romantic on top of it all. Soulmates, tied by a red string of fate and whatnot, you name it.
He is proud to say that he can finally call the said cute weirdo his boyfriend. After their first meeting, Wonwoo has visited Soonyoung every single day to buy cigarettes (Soonyoung found out sometime later that the cigarettes were just to help him get his incentives up and not make it obvious that he only came just to see Soonyoung).
Soonyoung successfully did manage to make him stop smoking and indulged him one smoke when things got really bad. This usually only happened when Soonyoung wasn’t around so he made sure his schedule was always aligned with Wonwoo’s and swore that he would never leave his side unless it was an emergency.
(Wonwoo also never touched another drop of alcohol after having Soonyoung in his life. Wonwoo calls Soonyoung his lifeline to which Soonyoung always blushes and responds with a shaky “That’s a tad bit concerning.” Soonyoung would never let Wonwoo know how much he likes being called that, like his whole purpose of life is to bear responsibility for Wonwoo).
Soonyoung didn’t know what major event happened in his life to make Wonwoo feel the things that he does but he would never ask if Wonwoo didn’t tell. He gets worried sometimes but these days Wonwoo’s really opening up to Soonyoung and his heart bleeds for those fleeting moments of vulnerability. If anyone has ever told Soonyoung what he was good at, it was always about how patient and understanding he was and Soonyoung swelled up with pride at their statements.
Soonyoung opens the door to Wonwoo’s apartment, finally putting the spare key Wonwoo gave him weeks ago to use. He almost trips over something small and furry. His face lights up to see that it was Wonwoo’s cat, Mittens.
He scoops up the little Bombay furball and buries his face against her stomach. “I missed you so much Mitts, how’ve you been doing?” Mittens preens against Soonyoung’s chest, purring in contentment. Soonyoung smiles fondly at her and asks a follow up question. “Where’s your dad?”
As if understanding Soonyoung (she probably does because everyone knows that cats have been a human in their past lives) Mittens cocks her head to her right only to return back to her place on Soonyoung’s chest and purrs herself to sleep. Soonyoung chuckles and coos sweetly at her before putting her gently onto her bed (a bunch of Wonwoo’s old shirts and pants stacked up in a neat heap in front of the sofa).
The cat was right. On Soonyoung’s right sat Wonwoo, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his windows. Soonyoung believes that he hasn’t noticed Soonyoung’s presence (he really didn’t) and treads slowly towards him. As he gets closer, Soonyoung realises he has his thin-rimmed glasses on and in his mouth was an unlit cigarette.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Soonyoung almost falls back as the familiar deep voice addresses him, surprisingly. Instead of replying, Soonyoung looks out the window. Winter was almost over but it was still quite chilly, very much sweater weather indeed. There were a few grey clouds and he could see raindrops slowly start to form on the window panes.
Wonwoo turned around and gave Soonyoung a small smile. “You probably think I’m crazy right?” Soonyoung shakes his head and walks over to slot himself in Wonwoo’s lap, his rightful place, his home. “Lots of people prefer rainy days, anyway.”
Wonwoo laughs then, a big, hearty laugh, the kind where Soonyoung thinks that there is such a thing as a perfect person and that person is Wonwoo. The way his eyes turn into half-moon slits, his nose all scrunched up and his teeth unbearably bright, glinting at him as if it could blind. Soonyoung’s heart skips a beat and he reminds himself to stay cool.
“You’re right, I do love myself a cold, rainy day. But that’s not the only reason,” Wonwoo takes Soonyoung’s face in his hands, he takes, takes, takes and holds him close. Soonyoung forgets how to breathe.
“A rainy day is how I got to meet you.” They stare into each other’s eyes, unblinking, unmoving for a few seconds. A single tear rolls down Soonyoung’s cheek but he doesn’t seem to notice it because he is too busy wiping away Wonwoo’s tears.
“Oh, Wonwoo. My love, my sweet. You're everything to me. My whole world.” Both of them were full on crying at this point, blubbering hushed words of affection into each other’s ears, incoherent mumbles whispered against skin.
Soonyoung finds himself asleep on Wonwoo’s chest and Wonwoo just basks in the warmth of Soonyoung’s body against him. Soonyoung feels small, furry paws gently prodding his knee. He picks her up and rests the little furbaby on his lap. They sit there for hours, feeling like home. It truly was the warmest of winters Soonyoung has ever experienced. He anticipates the many more summers and winters they have with each other.