Chapter Text
It’s 11:46 on a Thursday night and Seonghwa is up way past his usual bedtime. Yes, he does have one of those. He does his best to have a decent sleeping schedule, which is rather easy considering he values his rest. Not to mention, he usually helps Hongjoong manage his own sleeping schedule because he follows along with Seonghwa’s. It’s one of the many ways they balance each other out.
Seonghwa is curled up on the couch, with his favorite quilt. One that Hongjoong gifted him for their “two-year-anniversary”, as silly as he said the date was. It’s a patchwork quilt that Hongjoong made himself. It’s made out of old t-shirts of Hongjoong’s and all of their friends, and it also has some of Hongjoong’s own handmade designs.
It adorns Yunho’s tremendously old little league t-shirt, Wooyoung’s second favorite paramore shirt that he reluctantly gave up, and Jongho’s old favorite sweater he got when he was visiting a friend in California. It has one of Yeosang’s high school uniform shirts and the first shirt he ever crocheted. It was a gift for Seonghwa anyways, a particularly hideous gift, but Seonghwa loves it an extraordinary amount. It has San’s old ratty, bright red t-shirt, that sports a very unamused cat wearing a bright purple birthday hat. It has one of Mingi’s oversized sleep shirts, a cute pastel blue, that no matter what always smells like him, and Hongjoong’s first ever sweater he manufactured himself.
Seonghwa is mindlessly watching some old romcom movie that he doesn’t even know the name of. Not that it matters anyways, because it’s more background noise than anything. He’s so tired he could fall asleep right here on the couch, but he hates sleeping before Hongjoong makes it home safe. He grabs his phone off of the coffee table to check the time again. It’s 11:57, so barely ten minutes has passed since the last time he checked.
He hates to bother Hongjoong while he’s out having fun, but really he’s just worried about his boyfriend. Just as he goes to call him, he hears a familiar beep and the front door opening. Instantly he’s filled with relief.
Hongjoong stumbles in, kicks off his shoes and immediately grabs a bottle of water. Seonghwa is watching him over the back of the couch. A small chuckle escapes him, “Someone must have drank too much,” he says playfully.
Hongjoong jumps a little at Seonghwa’s voice. He looks up like he’s surprised the older boy waited up for him. He looks like a deer caught in headlights actually.
“Don’t look so surprised. You know how I hate sleeping before I know you’re home safe.”
Hongjoong stares at Seonghwa for a long moment. Seonghwa really doesn’t understand why he’s being so odd. Then Hongjoong is suddenly crossing the room, eradicating all distance between them and diving into Seonghwa’s arms, forcing a huff out of him. Though he quickly wraps his arms around him and softly kisses the top of his head.
“And here I was worried about seeming clingy,” he giggles. “I missed you too, Joongie.”
Hongjoong tightens his grip around Seonghwa’s midsection and it’s almost tight enough to hurt. He’s breathing deeply, like he’s trying to stop himself from crying. Why would Hongjoong be upset right now? He should’ve been having fun with Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yunho.
“Joong, what’s going on sweetheart? You’re acting odd,” he says, concern coating his voice.
Hongjoong looks up at him then, eyes glossed over from the alcohol. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a little messy. Seonghwa thinks he’s so cute, but something is clearly wrong. The expression on his face is all wrong. His lips are stuck in a pout and the smile he gives Seonghwa looks so devastated.
He doesn’t have much longer to think about it because Hongjoong connects their lips. It’s not quite as gentle as usual and lacks a bit of his usual coordination, but he feels the love inside the heat of his mouth. There’s a certain desperation in this kiss, one that Seonghwa can’t place, but he returns the kiss with just as much passion before pulling away.
“Hongjoong,” he giggles, “I miss you too. And I love you very much but your mouth tastes like soju and you reek of a cigarette.” He pats Hongjoong’s cheek. “Which I’m actually way too tired to lecture you about right now, so I’ll save that for tomorrow.” He moves Hongjoong over a bit so that he can stand, and turns the TV off. “Let’s go to bed, love.”
Seonghwa starts to walk down the hall when Hongjoong scrambles up from the floor, looking frightened. “Hwa, wait!”
Seonghwa jumps a little and turns around. “What’s wrong?” he asks, confused again.
Hongjoong walks a few steps closer but keeps a certain distance between them. He’s drawn some invisible line and Seonghwa doesn’t like it. He also doesn’t like that look on Hongjoong’s face or the tension in the air.
Hongjoong stares at him, he definitely has sobered up. There’s a certain agony to his expression, like he’s trying to rip a confession out of himself. Like it’s a painful conversation for him to start.
Seonghwa feels an odd dread building in his gut. “Joongie, can you tell me what’s going on please? What’s with that look on your face?”
Hongjoong’s hands are shaking. Seonghwa can see them clearly. He can also see the tension in his shoulders. Hongjoong’s posture is never very good to begin with, even worse after drinking, yet here he is standing ramrod straight.
He takes a deep breath, “Seonghwa, I made a mistake tonight.”
A mistake after a night out with the boys? Seonghwa pinches between his eyebrows, already knowing where this is going. He lets out a sigh, “Did you offer to pay for the entire bar’s tabs again?” he asks, already exhausted at the notion, but a small smile playing at his lips. He won’t actually be all that mad. Hongjoong can spend his money however he wants but Seonghwa is unfortunately going to be the one listening to him bitch about being broke.
Hongjoong doesn’t laugh. There’s no trace of a smile on his face, just that same desperation. There’s this sheepishness too. The expression looks so foreign on Hongjoong’s face.
“Seonghwa, no. I— I fucked up really bad. Like really bad and I just need you— I just need to know you won’t hate me,” he stumbles out.
Okay. Seonghwa wasn’t panicking before but he definitely is now. What is so awful that it has Hongjoong so bent out of shape? There’s absolutely nothing he’s ever done to make Seonghwa feel anything close to hate towards him. How could he think he’s even capable of doing so?
“Joong, you’re seriously freaking me the hell out now. I need you to just tell me what happened,” he says.
Hongjoong runs a harsh hand through his hair, tugging at the ends a bit too rough for Seonghwa’s liking.
“I kissed someone tonight.”
Everything freezes. Seonghwa is so sure that time has stopped moving, the earth has stopped spinning, and he’s not even breathing anymore. He knows he’s still alive though, he can hear his own heart thumping in his eardrums. He can hear a crack somewhere. It sounds like glass. He realizes soon that the sound came from his chest.
Hongjoong kissed someone. His Hongjoong kissed someone else?
The same Hongjoong he’s been dating for four years? The same Hongjoong who gave him a promise ring six months after meeting him? The same Hongjoong who spent seven months stitching together his favorite quilt? The same one who nearly burns the kitchen down to try and cook Seonghwa soup whenever he’s sick? The same one who memorized Seonghwa’s coffee order in three days, not matter how complicated, just because he wanted Seonghwa to know that he pays attention? The same Hongjoong who he sleeps next to every night? The same Hongjoong he makes love to? The love of his life…kissed someone else?
Seonghwa feels utter shock. He just can’t wrap his head around this. This isn’t making any sense.
“What do you mean you kissed someone tonight?”
Hongjoong takes a deep breath and lets it out. “We all drank so much tonight. I drank way too fucking much. I should have known better.”
Seonghwa is latching onto every word. He got drunk as fuck? So what? He’s been shit faced plenty of times and he’s never fucking kissed someone else.
“So what?” he grits out.
Hongjoong flinches at his tone. “Mingi and Woo went home early, so Yunho and I stayed for another hour and had a few more rounds. We got so drunk.” Hongjoong closes his eyes then. He can’t bare to look at Seonghwa right now. He can’t watch the love disappear. “Yunho was rambling about—he was just going on and on about Mingi. You know how head over heels he is for him, Hwa. He just looked so upset—“
“Get to the point. What does this have to do with anything! You said you fucking kissed someone! Who did you kiss?!” he snaps.
Hongjoong’s eyes remain closed. His hands are balled into fists now, but they’re shaking just the same. “He was so hurt about Mingi. I just— I just wanted to make him smile.”
There it is. The lightbulb above Seonghwa’s head lights up bright. So bright, too bright. The lightbulb shatters.
“Yunho,” he bites out. How could his name taste so bitter. “As in Jeong Yunho? As in the living breathing incarnate of a puppy? Jeong Yunho, as in one of our best fucking friends? Is that the one?” Seonghwa asks, seething, and so fucking hurt. His heart must have fallen right out the place in his chest and dropped right onto the floor, then burned a fucking hole in it and fell all thirteen stories to the ground.
Hongjoong looks guilty, his eyes now opened. There’s no other way to describe the tight expression on his face, all scrunched eyebrows, downturned lips at the corner, and those eyes. The eyes that always looked upon Seonghwa with so much adoration, want, and love. Now, they seem so sad.
Somehow that makes Seonghwa angry. He’s sad? Hongjoong wants to be the sad one right now? He could fucking laugh.
“Yes,” Hongjoong starts, “but it was a mistake! We were both really drunk and he was crying to me about Mingi and I just—“ he waves his hands around, gesturing at nothing in particular, trying to gather the right words, as if there are any to make this better, “I just wanted to make him feel better. He was so sad. I don’t know!” He runs a harsh hand through his hair. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, Hwa. But I promise, no I swear, there is absolutely nothing romantic between us. It was a stupid mistake and I am so so sorry.”
His eyes are pleading with Seonghwa. Seonghwa wants to believe him, in fact he thinks he already does, but fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This shit hurts. He can picture what Hongjoong is saying perfectly, he can imagine it all. Yunho’s cute little pout, his big sad puppy eyes that he gets when he talks about Mingi, the pink tint to his cheeks from the alcohol, the way he lays his head over on his folded arms and sighs when he’s lost in thought. Seonghwa can capture the scene in his mind. He can see Hongjoong staring at Yunho, he can see the wheels turning in his inebriated little mind, can hear the thought “I have to be a good hyung and fix this.” He can see Hongjoong reach across the table, lift Yunho’s head gently and plant a soft kiss against his lips. A whisper, a promise, “Someone will love you.”
Gods. Seonghwa is going to be fucking sick.
Jeong Yunho, out of all the people in the fucking world .
Seonghwa thinks he can physically feel the temperature within himself rising. His veins feel hot, his skins feels sweaty, his eyes are burning. His eyes are burning? Oh. There’s a dam. The wooden structure in his tear-duct is quivering, on the brink of collapsing. Seonghwa doesn’t think he can fix it this time, doesn’t think he can patch it up and keep the water at bay. He can’t. The floodgates are open and he’s going to fucking drown.
He drops to the ground, in an ungraceful show of emotion. He couldn’t bare the weight of the words he’s just heard. The pressure is straining against his chest, so he claws at it. If he could just rip it open and let it out. If he could just get rid of the pressure, this overwhelming force of wrongness. He cries harder, he claws harder. He needs to empty himself out. Once he’s empty, there will be nothing left to feel— nothing left to hurt.
He faintly registers Hongjoong’s voice in the midst of the chaos. “Hwa, baby please, you’re hurting yourself.” He’s sounds like he’s pleading again. Seonghwa wants to feel comfort from his voice but he thinks “Is this the voice he used with Yunho?” How could he do that to him?
He’s drowning, there’s water in his lungs and he can’t breathe.
“Hwa, I know you’re upset with me right now. I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I can’t leave you like this.” So soft, mellow, loving. That voice.
Seonghwa feels hands engulf his wrists, gently, so very gentle but firm. He wants to fight against them but he knows these hands. He knows these hands like the backs of his very own. Seonghwa has held Hongjoong’s hands so many times it’s like they are his second pair, no— like they’re actually his hands and Hongjoong just borrows them from time to time. An extension of himself on another body.
“Seonghwa, I need you to breathe with me, okay? Like we always do. Breathe with me.”
He hears the words, he wants to listen he does, but how the hell is he supposed to breathe? Doesn’t Hongjoong see the water? Can’t he feel any of the pressure? Seonghwa is going to drown! Or explode!
“The pressure—“ he grits out, voice raspy and strained with emotion— had he been crying? Is he crying? “The pressure Joongie. And the water. I’m drowning. I can’t—“
Hongjoong grabs his face then, with both hands, forcing Seonghwa to look at him. He’s blurry through the flood but Seonghwa knows that face, every freckle, every little acne scar, every feature, every follicle of hair. Seonghwa knows .
“Seonghwa, you’re having a panic attack right now. I need you to do as I do, okay?” Hongjoong asks, his voice stable and steady. Not at all portraying the turmoil he feels on the inside. This isn’t about him. This is because of him.
Hongjoong has helped Seonghwa out of many panic attacks before and Seonghwa has done the same for him. He’s seen this many times, but it hurts all the same. It hurts even worse that it’s his fault. He’s the one drowning Seonghwa. He’s the one who put that pressure inside of his chest.
Seonghwa’s breaths are still sporadic. Hongjoong can tell that he is looking at him but not truly seeing.
“Hwa, my baby. Can you feel my hands, hm? Can you feel my hands on your face?”
Seonghwa does. Of course he can. He wants to tell the other boy this but the words won’t come out. He nods, the best he can in the grasp of Hongjoong’s hands.
He’s a little less blurry now. His face is coming into view. He’s beautiful. Hongjoong is so beautiful.
“Good. That’s so good, my love. Now let’s breathe? I’ll count. I’ll count 1,2,3,4,5 and we’ll inhale, then 3,4,5 and we’ll exhale. Let’s try okay?” Hongjoong nudges him.
Seonghwa hears him, he’s listening, and he’s trying. Hongjoong believes he can breathe so maybe he can. Maybe he can do this. He hears Hongjoong breathe in, so he tries too. It burns, it hurts, but he’s trying.
Hongjoong listens as Seonghwa rasps in a shaky breath. He starts the count. “Okay, now breathe out.” He counts 3,4,5.
They do this over and over until Seonghwa can breathe all on his own. They do this until the water drains down into a puddle, until the pressure grows smaller. Until Seonghwa feels a little more human and a little less broken.
“You did amazing, Hwa.” Hongjoong smiles at him.
Seonghwa feels the radiance of it on his skin, but he sees the sadness in his eyes. He hasn’t forgotten why he’s here and neither has Seonghwa. He had a moment of weakness and now he’s upset at himself for letting Hongjoong see that, for letting Hongjoong help him through that. Everything about this situation is so painful, so embarrassing, and so fucking frustrating.
He pulls out of Hongjoong’s grasp and creates some distance between them. He doesn’t miss the flash of hurt across the other’s face because his gaze hasn’t left Hongjoong’s this entire time. Hongjoong could never hide anything from him anyway. It used to cause fights at the beginning of their relationship, until Hongjoong just came to terms with the fact that he didn’t get to have those kinds of secrets with Seonghwa. He is Seonghwa’s favorite book and Seonghwa was learning every line by heart, he saved every important chapter, but never once did Seonghwa crease a page. That’s the gentleness of his care. That’s the love Hongjoong betrayed. The trust.
Seonghwa gets to his feet and dusts himself off, he’s pretending like he’s got his shit together. He knows Hongjoong can read him just as well, but he feigns ignorance. He can pretend the hurt isn’t etched into his face. He can pretend that his cheeks aren’t flushed from sobbing. He can pretend that his eyes aren’t puffy, violent red, and swollen. He can pretend that his hands aren’t shaking, that his knees aren’t still wobbly just from holding himself upright. He can pretend he didn’t just fight his way out of a panic attack. He can pretend that he’s strong enough to say the next words that leave his mouth.
“I’m going to leave.”
Hongjoong can’t stop his mouth from falling open. His eyes widen in panic. “Seonghwa, wait. I’m sorry. I know I messed up. Please— I — wait, just—“
Seonghwa holds up a hand, silencing the other boy. “Joong—,” he flinches and clears his throat, “Hongjoong. I’m not saying that I’m breaking up with you. I just need to think, okay? I just— I can’t be in this house, our home with you right now.”
Hongjoong fights his own urge to flinch at the name switch. Seonghwa always uses nicknames and pet names with him. His full name sounds so wrong in the other’s mouth.
Hongjoong wrings his hands together. He’s anxious. Seonghwa fights the want to give him comfort. He’s already told him it’s not the end of everything, he just needs time to think. Time away from this familiar, cozy space, that just feels a bit like foreign territory to him right now.
Hongjoong takes a deep breath, “Okay, yeah.” A nod of his head. “Right. I understand,” he says.
For a moment the air is tight, they just stand there staring at one another until Seonghwa decides he can’t take it for a single second longer.
“I’ll go pack a few things.”
Hongjoong nods slowly, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what’s happening. He walks over to the couch, their couch, and all but falls into it. Their couch that they fought tooth and nail over regarding the color. Seonghwa won, as he often does when it comes to things with Hongjoong. Hongjoong wanted black because it goes with everything, and Seonghwa wanted pastel pink. It’s here, on this pastel pink couch, that he brings his arms up to wrap themselves around his frame, like he’s giving himself a hug. He just needs the grounding. He just needs to hold himself together so the broken pieces of himself don’t shatter apart like glass. He doesn’t want Seonghwa getting any more hurt by stepping on them.
Seonghwa grabs a bag from their shared closet. A bag he hasn’t touched since they took a trip to the mountains earlier this year. He feels an odd numbness as he stuffs his bag with clothes, not even bothering to fold them, he’ll do that out of pure stress later. He grabs his toothbrush, his skincare products, his charger, and his wallet. He’s got everything gathered and he feels like something is missing. He paces the room, wondering what it could be.
The realization crashes against him like waves against a rock, but Seonghwa is not so formidable an opponent. It dawns on him that what he’s missing is Hongjoong’s bag. He always packs both of theirs because Hongjoong couldn’t pack well even if his life depended on it, and Seonghwa always packs like his does.
But Hongjoong isn’t coming. He shakes the thoughts away and slips his phone from his pocket. Seonghwa has exactly eight numbers memorized by heart, one being his own. He calls one of them now.
One ring. Two rings.
“Hyung? What’s wrong? It’s 12:31. It’s way past your bedtime,” the familiar deep voice says.
Even now, it makes the older boy laugh. Any other hyung would be offended having their younger friend remind them of their bedtime, but Seonghwa just can’t help but laugh. It’s so fitting.
“Yes, it’s past my bedtime, Sangie.” He pauses, “I’m sorry to bother you—“
“You never bother me,” Yeosang interrupts him.
Seonghwa smiles, small and fragile. He hopes Yeosang can feel it all the same.
“Can I please come stay with you for a bit?”
Yeosang doesn’t ask any questions. Not here, not now.
“Of course. You’re always welcome here, hyung. That’s why I gave you my spare key.”
Seonghwa laughs lightly again, “Ah, yes. Wooyoung was very happy his roommate gave away the only spare key to me.”
He swears he hears Yeosang rolls his eyes through the phone. “Yeah, well he practically lives at Sannie and Yunho’s anyway.”
Seonghwa takes a sharp inhale. Yeosang doesn’t miss this, but he doesn’t question it either.
“Do I need to pick you up?” He asks.
“No, that’s alright. I’m going to drive.”
“Are you—,” Yeosang starts to ask.
“Yes, Sangie. I’m perfectly okay to drive, otherwise I’d have you pick me up or I’d take a taxi.”
Yeosang hums to that. He knows that Seonghwa would never endanger himself, or more importantly (as Seonghwa would say) anyone else.
“Okay, I’ll be up waiting for you. Drive safe. I love you.”
Seonghwa wants to wrap his arms around the boy already. “I love you always.”
He doesn’t want to pass through the living room again, but there’s no other way to the front door and he promptly decides against taking the window. He’s not exactly what you’d call a fan of heights. Thirteen stories is about twelve stories too high for him on a good day, let alone the worst day of his life.
He tightens the strap of the bag around his shoulder, counts to three, and exits the room. Their room.
The hallway feels never ending, though it’s only a couple feet long. He wants to keep walking straight to the door, he doesn’t even want to glance at Hongjoong. It’s never been hard for Seonghwa to look at Hongjoong. He has never not wanted to before. Things are different right now. It’s not Seonghwa’s fault that things are different. Or wait. Is it?
Oh no.
Did Seonghwa cause this? Was Hongjoong growing tired of him all along? Gods has he done something wrong? He just got his breathing under control. No, Hongjoong did. He feels like someone has punctured holes in his lungs, so he can’t get enough air. Some sick sabotage from the universe. He stops himself. He doesn’t need to think about this right now. He needs to leave.
He speed walks to the door, grabs his key ring from the hook, and pauses.
He can’t leave without saying goodbye. He can’t do that to Hongjoong. He deserves that much, doesn’t he? Or maybe Seonghwa wants to stay in his bitterness. Maybe Seonghwa wants to hold true power and leave without a sound, without a clue to his whereabouts. Maybe Seonghwa deserves to think he doesn’t owe Hongjoong this kindness, not right now.
Seonghwa is not so strong. He is not so unkind.
“I’m leaving now, Hongjoong,” he calls to the living room. Their living room. “Dinner is in the fridge.” What he means is
I can’t be here right now but I couldn’t hate you if I tried.
“Thank you, Hwa. Please be careful. I know I don’t deserve it but tell Yeosang to let me know when you get there safely. I just want to know you’re safe,” Hongjoong says.
Of course Hongjoong knows where he’s going without even asking. There’s nothing he doesn’t know.
Seonghwa hears his words for what they are, for what they have always been.
I love you.