Work Text:
Ever since he was little, field trips were something Hanbin looked forward to.
Whether it was the salty breeze of the seaside, the crisp air atop a mountain, or the sun-drenched countryside, each destination held the promise of unbridled joy.
After all, what were field trips if not an opportunity?
An opportunity to escape, to break free from the monotony of daily classes and teachers, and to explore the wonders of nature with friends.
In other words, they were supposed to be a pleasant experience.
Or, at least, that’s what he used to believe.
“Why are you sulking?” Kim Gyuvin asked, his mouth filled with peanut butter, jelly, and unswallowed sticky bread.
Hanbin gave him a pointed look. “Manners, Gyuvin.”
“Seriously?” Gyuvin continued to chew enthusiastically despite his friend’s complaints. A few crumbs landed on his lap, bouncing to the floor, and littering the encased space. “What’s gotten your panties in a twist?”
Hanbin stared out the window, watching the endless rows of trees and wildflowers—a blur of vibrant hues—as the bus glided along the ribbon of asphalt. Sure enough, there were still no signs of the ocean, or the beach, for that matter.
Hanbin’s chin sank deeper into his palm.
“They’re not in a—” he stopped himself. Naturally, arguing against Gyuvin was futile. He should’ve known that by now. “I’m fine.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
From the corner of his eye, Hanbin caught Gyuvin lifting a precarious brow.
“I’m just tired,” Hanbin sighed.
“Whatever you say.”
As if to prove a point, Hanbin reclined his neck against the rock-solid headrest. He immediately regretted his decision. The cushion was as stiff as a wood board, and the rhythmic shaking of the bus teetered his teeth in a way that could not be defined as pleasant.
“That can’t be comfortable,” Gyuvin remarked.
“Well, it isn’t,” Hanbin sat up again, opting to fold his arms and maintain an upright position instead. Gyuvin’s wary expression was still being bestowed upon him, though. “I said I’m fine.”
But the persistent stiltedness that had been coating his voice ever since they stepped inside the bus was proving difficult to keep locked away, and as much as he wished to hide his ulterior motivations, Gyuvin was not an idiot. He followed the line of Hanbin’s stare without question.
“Oh, right. I see now.” A poorly concealed smug smile spread through his features, a close resemblance to the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. Hanbin’s spirits wilted even further: he’d been busted.
“Don’t say anything, okay?”
“You know you could just ask him out, right?”
They both stared in shared contemplation at the way Hao’s temples rested against Jiwoong. Hanbin nibbled at his lip.
“I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Given that no amount of thinking could bless him with a decent enough excuse, Hanbin deflated. “I don’t know.”
Needless to say, Hanbin had been observing the duo for a while now: how Hao’s head had slowly drifted towards Jiwoong’s shoulder effortlessly earlier; how they’d been immersed in friendly banter with a splash of gleeful laughter from the second they’d sat down; or the way their knees had become smoothly tilted towards one another. The whole spectacle felt all too intimate for Hanbin’s liking.
It was too agonizing to watch, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pry his eyes away from them.
“Seriously, you need to be more confident, Hanbin,” Gyuvin tsked. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he likes you, too.” He then proceeded to thrust an elbow against Hanbin’s ribs while waggling his brows. It was supposed to be a playful gesture, but considering Gyuvin had a poor grasp of just how much strength he possessed, the jab was enough to knock all the air out of Hanbin’s lungs. “ Oops. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Hanbin managed to strain out, his voice barely a wheeze. “I think you might be wrong, though.” His stare naturally gravitated back to Jiwoong and Hao. They were both quiet now, although Hao’s head was still glued to his shoulder.
Hanbin’s heart sank further into his chest.
“I’m never wrong,” Gyuvin insisted.
As much as Hanbin wanted to believe him, the picture in front of him painted an entirely different reality. He opened his mouth to protest, but he was brought to a halt by a sudden jolt from the bus. The unexpected force was enough to propel him forward, at the same time a colorful stream of curses left Gyuvin’s lips.
“Goddammit, that hurt.”
Hanbin rubbed his forehead. “Are you okay?”
His skull felt slightly battered after the hit, the bump on the road to blame for the sting. Besides a few isolated shrieks here and there, no one else seemed to be hurt.
Still, Hanbin couldn’t help but scan the bus with overwhelming desperation. Was Hao alright?
However, as soon as he caught a glimpse of him, he realized he’d made a grave mistake.
The scene that unfolded in front of him was one worthy of his worst nightmares.
“Oh,” Gyuvin winced. “You better not look now.”
But it was too late. Hanbin was already being rained on by the purest form of misery.
“Dude, you’re burning a hole in their backs,” Gyuvin whispered.
Hanbin paid him no heed. The truth was, he didn’t care. He was too busy hyper-fixating on Jiwoong’s right palm, which was carefully lodged on Hao’s collarbone, as his entire body was turned towards him—an effort to keep him from toppling over.
Now, it was important to note that Hanbin was not insane (at least, not clinically speaking). So, as the rational creature he was, he was able to properly register what was happening—at least, to a certain extent.
Surely enough, Jiwoong was helping Hao regain his balance, considering that the latter was leaning dangerously close to the floor.
That much was evident and honestly, understandable.
However, what set off Hanbin’s towering rage was not Jiwoong’s right hand or his rapid disposition. No. What pissed him off was his left hand.
You know, the one that was casually lazing on Hao’s waist.
As if that wasn’t enough, and almost as if someone up there was making the utmost effort to add the icing to Hanbin’s miserable cake, he was able to hear Hao’s giggles loud and clear—a melodious ringing sound that reminded Hanbin of just how unreachable his crush was.
Something snapped inside him.
Call it an insidious murmur or an unabated poison; but whatever it was, it unfurled deep within Hanbin’s flesh—a coil so green, so vast, it became almost untamable.
Before Gyuvin—or his own rationality—could stop him, Hanbin sprung to his feet, his determination burning like the sun that shined above the bus’ metal carcass.
“Where are you going?” Gyuvin asked, an even blend of recognition and horror clinging to his features as he watched Hanbin lurch forward.
Hanbin doesn’t respond. Even though every single one of his senses was screaming against it, he couldn’t help it. He knew that if he didn’t do something about the snake that was loitering in his stomach right now, it would eventually eat him alive.
“Hanbin, wait!” Gyuvin called out, but Hanbin was already treading the space that separated him from Hao with urgent strides.
“Oh, hi, Hanbin,” Hao was the first one to acknowledge his presence. Maybe he was imagining things, but Hanbin could’ve sworn Hao’s eyes lit up the moment they landed on him. “What are you doing here?”
Alerted by Hao’s greeting, Jiwoong offered him a polite nod of his chin. “Hello.”
Hanbin was quick to hide his tightly clenched fists behind his back.
“Oh—uh… Hello,” he managed to croak out. Equal parts of shame and guilt were swift to swarm him, as he realized he didn’t really have a proper reason to be standing there besides just uncontrollable jealousy. “I—uh…”
“Are you alright? You look a little pale,” Hao frowned. He reached forward, lightly grasping Hanbin’s fingers between his own. Hanbin’s steeled stance loosened visibly, the coil serpent that had been lurking on his insides unclenching as well. “Are you sure you don’t have a fever?”
Hanbin shook his head. He allowed Hao to hold him for another moment, not yet ready to claim his limb back. “I’m fine, really. I just—,” he paused. “I was just wondering if you were okay.”
Hao blinked a couple of times. “Oh! You’re talking about the bump from earlier,” he mused. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Jiwoong caught me.” The knot that had once lounged on Hanbin’s stomach had now grounded itself to his chest. Hanbin heaved painfully. “I would’ve fallen if it weren’t for him,” Hao continued, with a soft laugh. Jiwoong laughed alongside him, too.
For an instant, Hanbin wondered if it was possible to turn green solely out of jealousy.
Because, if it was, he’d definitely be the Wicked Witch of the West by now.
“That’s great,” he said instead, through gritted teeth. The fake smile he was wearing drilled at his jawbone in a way that wasn’t one bit pleasant. He wasn’t sure what was more excruciating: the ache hounding his face or the ache tormenting his heart. If he were to choose, he’d probably pick the last one, though. Nonetheless, he kept his facade. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
At least, that last part was honest. He was glad Hao was safe—even if it meant he’d been saved by another man’s aptitudes.
Still, that didn’t prevent him from shrinking further unto himself.
“I—uh… I guess I’ll go now, then.”
However, before he could swivel back to his original seat, Hao extended his arm once more, a pair of chilly fingers wrapping around Hanbin's balmy wrist.
The touch was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
“Wait, don’t go yet,” Hao said. He seemed a bit breathless, too. Perhaps the heat of the bus? “I heard they were going to let us do some quick shopping before we went to the beach. Want to come? Jiwoong doesn’t like shopping.”
He stared at Hanbin expectantly.
“Oh…” Hanbin sneaked a furtive glance at Hao’s companion. Jiwoong didn’t seem particularly reluctant to Hao asking Hanbin to hang out, nor did his body posture express any apprehensions. Hanbin wondered if that meant he could rule out the possibility of them secretly being a couple.
That, or Jiwoong was just a relaxed boyfriend.
He tampered down the unpleasant thought with a mental shovel. “Sure. I’ll go with you.”
“Great,” Hao smiled—a grin bright enough to kindle his face.
Hanbin mirrored him, giving one final nod before strolling back to his seat with newly-found confidence.
*
The newly-found confidence was quick to evaporate, though.
Easy come, easy go, they say.
“So when you said you wanted to go shopping with me…” Hanbin began, tentative. “What you really meant was you, me… and Ricky?”
They were no longer on the bus, and the courage that had enveloped him earlier was practically non-existent now, as they wandered through the market stationed by the shore. The sea breeze was a faint caress on Hanbin’s cheeks, lessening the weight of the heavy sunlight and the trace of disappointment that he felt whenever he stared at Ricky’s back.
“Well, he does love shopping,” Hao explained, almost apologetically. Then, his face morphed into a slightly more panicked expression. “Do you not want him here with us?”
“No, of course, I do!”
“Oh, that’s a relief,” Hao puffed out. “For a second I thought—“ But he didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence, as Ricky sauntered back towards them, a scowl perched on his lower lip.
Hanbin failed to disguise his shoulder hunch.
“Can you believe that guy?” Ricky snapped, oblivious to Hanbin’s disappointment. He pressed a firm hand to his hip. “He wouldn’t give me a discount, no matter how many times I asked.”
“Well, it does say no discounts there,” Hao pointed out, poking a finger toward the worn-out sign that hung above the vendor's stall.
The comment only served to aggravate Ricky’s already sour mood.
“That’s obviously just a formality.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” Hao sighed. “Why would they hang it there if they weren’t going to adhere to what it says?”
“I don’t know,” Ricky rolled his eyes. “Maybe it was an old sign or something.”
Hao ignored him. “Besides, why would you even buy the sunglasses if you didn’t think the price was fair?”
“What else was I supposed to do? Not buy them?” Ricky blew out an exasperated huff. “They fit my vibe.”
“They are just sunglasses.”
As if to prove a point, Ricky slid the shades on. “Are you sure about that?”
Hao blinked a couple of times, unfazed. Was there supposed to be a discernable difference? Hanbin couldn’t tell, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Like I said, they’re just sunglasses.”
“You’re only saying that because you don’t know the first thing about fashion,” Ricky quipped. His hopeful eyes darted toward Hanbin instead. “What do you think?”
Hanbin hesitated. “Uh… They look nice?”
“See?” Ricky fired back. “Hanbin agrees with me.”
“No, he doesn’t. He just feels the need to agree because you’re putting him on the spot.”
“I’m not putting him on the spot.” A faint crease dented Ricky’s forehead. “Right, Hanbin?”
“Uh…”
Hao stepped forward—as if to shield Hanbin’s jittery frame from Ricky’s relentless glare. Relief immediately washed over him, and he poked his head from behind Hao’s back.
The discussion wasn’t over yet.
“Seriously, who spends sixty thousand won on a pair of sunglasses?”
“Why are you suddenly lashing out at me?” Ricky pursed his lips. “Has the heat gotten to you or something?”
“I’m not lashing out at you, I’m just saying that—“
As heaven would have it, Gyuvin chose that very second to show up. His wild mop of brown hair popped up from behind Ricky’s back, his fingers prompt to wrap around the boy’s bicep.
“You guys will not believe what I just found,” he announced, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
Ricky squinted, eyeing the place where Gyuvin’s hand met his arm with mistrust.
“What?”
“A vintage Louis Vuitton bag,” Gyuvin declared, not without a hint of pride. “It has barely any scratches on it, too. They’re selling it for one-fourth of the original price. I checked.”
“Seriously? Can I see?”
Hao and Hanbin observed in split amusement Ricky’s change in demeanor—Gyuvin had managed to successfully pique his interest.
“Of course.” Gyuvin placed a firm hand around Ricky’s waist, prodding him in the opposite direction to where Hao and Hanbin were headed. “Let me guide you.”
“See you guys later,” Ricky cast a chaste flick of the wrist at them before taking off.
The wink Gyuvin launched in his direction before he dragged Ricky away didn’t fly past Hanbin, as he felt a wave of gratitude flood over him at his friend’s intervention. He realized that it was basically now or never. Gyuvin had created the perfect opportunity—he’d bought him at least a few minutes alone with Hao—, and now it was up to Hanbin whether to take it or not.
“So…”
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Hao asked. A content smile graced his rosy lips—it reminded Hanbin of the glossy cowries that lay on the side of the beach.
“It is,” Hanbin sucked in a shallow breath. It was hard to remain focused when Hao was standing so close to him, but he made the effort anyway. “Which reminds me… There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
At some point, it had dawned on him that Gyuvin was right. The only possible alternative to eradicate his own irrational jealousy was to ask Hao out before someone else beat him to it.
Of course, the action was easier said than done, as he still had his self-doubts to work against. Still, he figured that no mountain had ever been climbed without a few stumbles and falls first.
Hao leaned closer, his eyelids fluttering with expectation. “What is it?”
Hanbin cleared his throat. “I know this might seem a bit out of the blue, but I was thinking that maybe you’d like to go out—“
“Gather back into one single group, please!” The teacher’s scream echoed dangerously close to Hanbin’s ear. He flinched, and at the same time, Hao jerked backward, recoiling as though scorched. “If you think someone’s missing, please make sure to inform me, as we’ll be moving to our next location in a couple of minutes!”
Hanbin cursed under his breath. What was up with his shitty luck today?
“Oh,” Hao winced. “I think we need to go back.” His words carried an air of apology.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Despite his attempts, his shoulders slumped involuntarily again. He trudged behind Hao with heavy steps.
Surely, there would be another opportunity later… Right?
*
Except it didn’t.
As it turned out, a lot of things could happen in the span of a few hours, as every glimpse of an opportunity to speak privately with Hao had been irretrievably ruined by the cruelties of fate.
First, it had been the bird poop impinging on his shoe while they were retrieving seashells by the shore. Then, it had been Gunwook tackling him to the ground while they were playing beach volleyball. And, after that, it had been that ill-fated wave knocking him down while they bathed together in the ocean.
The worst part of all was, that that wasn’t even the end of it.
The cherry on the top had come less than twenty minutes ago, when an unruly kid had gone berserk and somehow managed to kick sand right across Hanbin’s vision, pushing him to spill his milkshake on his clothes and embarrass himself in front of Hao—and Jiwoong, and Gyuvin, and Gunwook, and Ricky… and basically, the entire class, for that matter.
What a lovely day it had been, no doubt.
Demeaned and defeated, Hanbin plodded back to the bus site, his shirt still dripping with strawberry-scented milk and ice cream. He was beyond worn out, the taste of surrender fresh in his mouth, his feet sinking in a pit of gloom.
He found some solace in slanting his exhausted body against the sturdy trunk of a tree.
Perhaps, fate wasn’t as kind as he had predicted. Naturally, it was impossible to tell what destiny had in store for him for the near future, but if one thing was clear, it was that confessing to Hao simply wasn’t on its foreseeable plans.
As he waited for the rest of his classmates to arrive, he dwelled on his misery, his palms prickling with dejection and sweat.
Needless to say, he was fully ready to escape that dreadful place, as the once exciting prospect of a field trip had now managed to completely lose all of its luster—Hanbin could quite literally not wait to never go on another outing again.
While he stood along the sandy shore, the warm embrace of the sun on his skin, he suddenly found himself captivated by an enchanting scene that had eluded his focus until now.
The rhythmic ebb and flow of the tide, like a serene lullaby, held a mesmerizing dance that entwined with the gentle whisper of the sea breeze through the swaying trees.
A sudden revelation of nature's beauty washed over him: the dance of the ocean, the symphony of pastel colors, and the wind, which carried a subtle hint of a briny smell.
He followed the flight of a solitary seagull along the bright sky; a fleeting stroke of white paint against the canvas of the horizon. He welcomed the sensation of the sea breeze stroking his face: cool, invigorating, and, frankly, soothing.
And then, it dawned on him: much like the breeze, he realized that, sometimes, it was better to just let things go. He’d been clinging so hard to his expectations, that he’d completely failed to appreciate the moment and prioritize his own fun. Instead, he’d spend the whole day being miserable, too immersed in achieving an unfeasible quest to notice.
As much as the thought pained him, he concluded that maybe he and Hao simply weren’t meant to be. After all, they were friends… Shouldn’t that be enough?
Hanbin supposed it should. The idea didn’t bring him any joy, but, at the very least, it granted him freedom. His anxieties evened out: at last, he’d gained peace.
Relishing in his recent discovery, he basked under the sun’s rays for a few more beats, unaware that someone was creeping up behind him until they gently tugged at his sleeve, prompting him to turn around. Hanbin complied, fully expecting it to be his best friend.
“Gyuvin, what are doing—”
Instead, he found himself face-to-face with Hao.
“Oh,” Hanbin rasped discreetly. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Hanbin noticed concern lingered in Hao’s gaze, as he scanned through his features for something. “Are you alright, Hanbin?”
“Uh—yeah. I am. Don’t worry,” Hanbin scratched his ear. “It’s just a stain.”
“I know… I was talking about earlier.”
“You mean when Gunwook tackled me? Or the wave thing?”
“All of it, actually.”
“I’m fine,” Hanbin reassured him. “Just out of luck, I guess.”
Hao’s brows knitted in a frown. “Bad day?”
“I guess you could say that.”
A brief moment of silence stretched itself between them—the only sound coming from the cries of a nearby seagull. Then, Hao sliced right through it.
“What were you trying to say earlier?” He asked, his tone slightly dithered.
“Oh. It was nothing important… Don’t worry about it.”
Hao nodded. “Alright.” It seemed like he had more to say, but was hesitant to do so. Hanbin waited patiently. “You know I’m not dating anyone, right?”
Hanbin almost choked on his spit.
“What?”
Hao held his stare. “I’m just telling you… in case you want to do something about it.”
“I—uh…” Hanbin’s cheeks were burning, but it had nothing to do with the temperature or the sun shining directly above his head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Hao chuckled—a soft chime, like a bird that sang a merry song during rainless days.
“It means that if you were to ask me on a date, I would say yes,” he said, the hint of a smile dangling from his mouth. A moment later, he bit his lower lip, as if to suppress it. “Just making sure you know that.”
Hanbin took a deep breath. His heart was pounding fiercely against his ribs, his brain at a complete loss for words. His lips parted and shut on repeated occasions, almost like a fish left out of the water.
Hao took a step back, hesitant. “Only if you want to, of course.” His gaze was fixed on Hanbin, nervous anticipation rippling in his eyes.
“I…I understand.” Hanbin couldn’t bring himself to continue.
Hao deflated. That wasn’t the response he’d been expecting.
“Okay. If that’s all you have to say, I’ll leave now—”
“Wait.” Hanbin seized his wrist before he could run away. “I want to.”
Hao was taken aback. “You want what?”
“To ask you on a date,” Hanbin said, breathlessly. “That’s what I was trying to do earlier, actually…”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Hanbin swallowed back what was left of his indecision. “So, would you—”
“Hanbin!”
Once again, his speech was cut short, as the rest of the students swarmed back into the site and Gyuvin leaped excitedly towards him, his arms moving around in circles. Hanbin swallowed down a frustrated cry.
“Look at what I found,” Gyuvin declared, exhibiting his priced possession with a proud grin. “A sand dollar.” He didn’t even wait for Hanbin to respond, or to get a full look at it, as he climbed back into the bus. “Oh, and by the way, I’m sitting with Ricky now.”
Hanbin blinked languidly. “Sure.”
While he watched Ricky ascend behind Gyuvin, he wondered how long his streak of bad luck would last. Surely, it would end today, right?
Hanbin felt another tug at the hem of his shirt. Hao was staring at him with big, hopeful eyes.
“Should we sit together, then?” He asked.
The proposition made Hanbin’s jaw drop to the floor.
“But what about Jiwoong?”
Hao shrugged. “He’s sitting with Matthew, so don’t worry about him.”
The shit-eating grin that stretched across his face was difficult to hide.
“Uh—yeah. Sure. Alright.”
Hao lingered for a moment outside the bus.
“And regarding what you were about to ask… the answer is yes.”
Hanbin’s heart skipped a beat, leaving him momentarily breathless. “Okay.”
After they had settled into their seats, the bus set into motion, and a serene calmness washed over Hanbin. Time seemed to slow down, as the gentle rhythm of the journey lulled both him and Hao into a tranquil state. Silence sufficed, and soon enough, they had both succumbed to the peaceful atmosphere.
Eventually, Hao’s head landed on Hanbin's shoulder, his breathing steadying into a soft rhythm. Hanbin didn’t question it—his temple came to rest against Hao's hair, too, and Hao responded by nestling closer.
With closed eyes, a faint smile graced Hanbin’s lips.
It seemed like field trips weren’t so bad, after all.