Work Text:
i.
Electric.
The energy cultivated by the youth living like there’s no tomorrow within the very walls of this club couldn’t be aptly described by anything but that. People are throwing back shot after shot, exchanging kiss after kiss, and enjoying song after song on the dance floor, throwing all caution to the wind in exchange for a night of carelessness. Even as an observant from the second floor, it’s a scene Hyunsuk is all too familiar with, for he constantly chases after the same buzz; whether in Seoul or in Busan, a party is a party; its guestlist is always the same, consisting of people looking for an excuse to unwind or to disappear into the night.
In Seoul, he’s the eldest son, the dutiful son, and the responsible older brother. In Busan, he’s nothing more than his bank account and performance in bed. Fucked as it is, Hyunsuk prefers the second; it’s easier to be known shallowly when all that depth has done for him is making it easier for him to drown.
“Hyung!” A voice to his right yells, approaching the older boy and breaking him out of his trance, “Junkyu’s here!”
“Junkyu?” He repeats, incredulous, as he pours himself a glass of whisky, “Our Kim Junkyu? The same Junkyu notorious for not leaving his dorm unless absolutely necessary? Here, of all places?”
“I’d recognize that gray hoodie and height anywhere, hyung. I’m pretty sure it’s Junkyu.” Yoshi says as he takes a sip of a bottle of beer.
Its brand causes Hyunsuk to raise an eyebrow at the other boy, but when the younger boy notices that look and glares, the blond hurriedly hides his smirk behind his glass and throws it back, welcoming the distinct burn it brings with it. The whisky rapidly scorches his throat as it makes its way down, leaving behind a dissipating trail of fire in its wake before eventually settling in his abdomen, lighting a hearth that beckons him to imbibe more. And Hyunsuk? Hyunsuk has never been good at saying no.
Placing his glass down, he contests, laughing, “You sure it’s not the alcohol doing the seeing and talking right now? How many of those have you had? Remember, your limit’s just usually three.” The blond reaches for a glass of water and hands it to the other boy. “Drink this, will you?
Grumbling, the younger boy accepts the glass and drinks. Hyunsuk, on the other hand, takes advantage of the lull in the conversation to refill his glass. Once emptied, Yoshi puts the glass down and looks at the blond, mouth set in a stubborn line.
“I swear, hyung, it’s him.” After a beat, he adds hastily, “And my limit isn’t three!”
Pouring himself another glass, he assures the other boy in a conciliatory tone, “Sure it is.”
“I have been building my tolerance up.” Yoshi points out as he redirects his eyes back to the crowd below them, looking for the ghost of Kim Junkyu. “Plus, if you hadn’t noticed, I’ve managed to keep up with you so far, hyung. Don’t tell me all that bleach rotted your brain.”
Ignoring the jibe, Hyunsuk puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder and pats it. “Let’s train more then, hm? It’s only, what, half past ten?” Glancing at his wristwatch, he corrects himself, “A quarter to eleven.” He claps Yoshi’s shoulder once more, looking pointedly at the beer bottle in his friend’s hand. “A quarter to eleven, and you’re already missing your ex. How about I order another bottle of whisky and more soju to help you forget?”
Pausing his search, Yoshi looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “You just want more excuses to drink.”
“Guilty as charged,” The blond admits, smirking into his glass and sips.
Scoffing, the younger of the two returns his gaze towards the droves of bodies on bodies, all jumping to the bass beat of some new song, resuming his attempt at locating their friend. When the chorus ends, Yoshi speaks up. “Want to make a bet, hyung?”
Intrigued, Hyunsuk asks, “What kind of bet?”
“If I find Kim Junkyu, you’ll foot tonight’s bill.”
Not wanting to be hoodwinked, the blond hurriedly scans the crowd, looking for a familiar silhouette. When he spots no signs of their friend, he questions his companion, “And if you lose?”
Yoshi states without missing a beat. “Easy. I’ll foot the bill.”
Hyunsuk whistles, “Confident, are you?” Downing his whiskey, he flags the waiter and gestures to the near-empty bottle, wordlessly asking for one more. “Half an hour enough for you to hand your card over?”
“I just need ten minutes.” Yoshi states, smirking at the older boy.
“Oh, you’re on.”
Not wasting time, Yoshi heads towards the stairway and disappears. Glancing at his watch again, Hyunsuk mentally begins the countdown as he pours the rest of the whiskey into his glass and settles back into the leather couch. In the background, the song switches, prompting the crowd to scream louder, pulling his attention away from his poison of choice. Curious, he lets his eyes actually look at each person he could see, wondering if any of them could hold his attention for more than five seconds.
Truth be told, there’s a handful of people Hyunsuk finds attractive.
To the right of the DJ booth, a handsome girl dances with her friends, hair moving to the beat of the song as she sings each and every lyric. Right across from her, a cute guy seated at one of the booths looks bored, eyes looking back at his phone screen every now and then. In the center of the dancefloor, a girl with a long ponytail draws in the eyes of onlookers with each step she takes.
They’re all attractive, yes, and while chasing flames is a pastime he enjoys, none of them seem capable of igniting more than a spark with him. Resigned, he sighs and brings his drink to his lips, letting the whisky burn him instead.
As the song’s outro starts playing, Yoshi returns with a winning smile, dragging a disgruntled Kim Junkyu along, dressed in his infamous gray hoodie and black sweatpants combo. “Told you I just needed ten minutes.”
“Well, what do you know,” Hyunsuk breathes out, disbelieving despite Junkyu being there in the flesh, “It is our Kim Junkyu.”
Groaning, Junkyu looks at him with annoyance on his face as plain as day. “Did I really have to get dragged all the way here? This could have been a text, hyung. Or a call.”
“Yeah, well, you know how skeptical Hyunsuk hyung is sometimes.” Deciding that this was proof enough, Yoshi lets their friend go and sits back down, picking the menu back up. “Besides, annoying you is a small price to pay for being able to order anything and everything I want since hyung’s paying.”
“Hyunsuk hyung’s paying?” The tallest of the three interrogates as he cautiously approaches. “For everything? Why?”
Sighing, the blond takes his wallet out and places a black card on the table. “Cause we made a bet on you being here. Yoshi said he saw you, and I didn’t believe him. Obviously, I lost.”
As he signals for the waiter to come over, the Japanese boy happily says, “Serves you right for doubting me.”
Junkyu, with a calculating look in his eyes, asks before Hyunsuk could get a word in, “Then do you mind if I bring a friend over? I sort of–”
“Abandoned me?” A new voice chimes in, effectively drawing the attention of the three boys. “Yes, you did abandon me, Kim Junkyu; how dare you!” With fire in his eyes, the newcomer continues his tirade, uncaring of who heard, “You left me to fend for myself in this shithole! I thought I was special to you! Ten years of friendship, and this is how you treat me?! I barely even see you now since you’re studying in Seoul!”
Junkyu winces but makes no move to stop his friend.
“I tried to convince the bouncer downstairs that I was a concerned friend following you, but he didn’t believe me. But since I’m such a good friend who got worried after seeing you get dragged by some rando to god knows where,” Yoshi raised the menu higher, hiding his face. “I resorted to bribery! A felony! And now?” The cute boy with a lisp sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, I have no money! I’m a criminal with an empty wallet!”
Hyunsuk takes in the sight of the newcomer—a tall boy dressed in a red, black, and white motif, notably wearing a long checkered skirt of all things over a pair of black pants. The entire outfit, including fingerless gloves, a leather jacket, and spiked leather boots, is loud, bold, and fierce, contrasting sharply with the prettiest face Hyunsuk has ever seen on any living being, with big puppy dog eyes framed by the lightest flick of black eyeliner and pink pouty lips that look like they’re begging to be kissed.
Kissed preferably by him.
Feeling his stare, the newcomer turns to Hyunsuk and raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow in question.
‘Electric.’ The blond thinks, incapable of holding the smirk on his face back from forming.
Yoshi, possibly wondering why it suddenly became quiet, peeks from the back of the menu and looks at Hyunsuk, the newcomer, and Hyunsuk again, in that order. Sighing, he turns towards Junkyu. “Right. I think our hyung here would very much prefer it if your friend stayed.” Then, he turns to the boy clad in red, white, and black and smiles apologetically. “Sorry about that, by the way. This hyung,” He says as he gestures to the blond, “And I had a bet on whether Junkyu was here since we barely see him outside our dorm in Seoul.”
Snorting, Junkyu goes to sit next to Yoshi. “Ya, Park Jihoon, introduce yourself, will you? These two are my friends from Seoul. The blond’s Hyunsuk hyung. The other one’s Yoshi.”
Not breaking eye contact with Hyunsuk, Jihoon snarks, “You just said my name, Kyu. That’s enough introduction.”
Junkyu sighs, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier and so is Yoshi, but look at this way, now, we won’t have to pay for anything. A win-win.”
Jihoon looks to the side and murmurs, “I guess that’s retribution enough.” Turning towards Hyunsuk, he asks, a bit shy, “Is that okay with you? I mean, Junkyu and I weren’t even part of your initial plans. Won’t it be too much?”
For a moment, Hyunsuk flounders, not expecting the question. After a beat, he regains his composure, saying with a smile as he offers a menu to Jihoon, “I don’t think you could ever be too much for me, actually.”
In the background, Yoshi groans.
Rolling his eyes, Jihoon sits down next to him, takes the menu, and comments, “You didn’t tell me that one of your friends from Seoul is a terrible flirt, Kyu.”
“You never asked.”
ii.
The week after, the four of them find themselves in each other’s company again, coming back to the same bar, drinking the same alcohol, and getting drunk in the same way. Early morning adventures? Not part of the plan. Usually, their agendas at this time consisted of miraculously getting home in one piece, and that had been what they were doing before Yoshi, who was, at that time, somehow oddly persuasive despite swaying towards a lamppost as he made a case for teenage romanticism, saying, ‘When else are we gonna get a chance to go to the beach at three in the morning?’
Hyunsuk, who still had some of his wits about him, slung an arm around Yoshi’s shoulders to pull him away from his untimely demise and said it made for a compelling case; Junkyu, who clutched a bottle of water to his chest like it held the answers to the mystery of the universe, had groaned, sleepily complaining about sand getting everywhere; Jihoon, who had his phone out and documented the entire thing, pointed out that he did live in Busan and, unlike the rest of them, had Haeundae for his backyard.
So, long story short, they went.
After wandering the stretch of Haeundae for about fifteen minutes, they found a convenience store by the beach and combed through its shelves, dumping bags of food into a basket that Jihoon had half a mind to get. Hyunsuk, who sobered up after a bottle of water, had covered the cost of their impromptu shopping trip, sending an apologetic smile towards the clerk ringing them up since Yoshi, in his drunken state, had started crying about the panda-shaped steamed buns in the steamer to Junkyu who stood still, staring at nothing.
Since he and Jihoon opted to get noodles, the younger boy volunteered to guide their two friends to look for a spot on the shore where they could sit and not disturb other people. Figuring that that was the more taxing task, the older boy readily agreed to prepare the ramen instead. So, as Jihoon wrangled their two drunk friends closer to the shore, Hyunsuk headed towards where the hot water was stationed and started preparing the ramyeon.
Once done, Hyunsuk brings the two bowls of piping hot noodles outside the store and heads towards Jihoon, waving him over a few feet away. Upon reaching his friends, a laugh escapes his lips before he can help it.
“For the record, I didn’t do anything,” Jihoon explains as he reaches for one of the cup noodles, murmuring his thanks as he does so. “They fell asleep on their own.”
Looking at Jihoon, the older of the two thinks it’s quite unfair how the other looks thoughtfully messy at three in the morning. To make himself feel better, he moves his gaze to his two other friends, currently sound asleep. The blond queries, “Did the sound of waves lull them to sleep or something?”
Placing the bowl on the sand, the younger boy hums in consideration. “Maybe? I tried waking them up when I noticed but to no avail. Persuading the dead to rise would be easier, I think.”
Hyunsuk laughs, sitting beside the other boy as he does the same, “Yoshi’s already impossible to wake on a normal day. Adding alcohol to the equation just worsens it. Getting the earth to spin in the opposite direction would probably be easier.”
Snorting, Jihoon comments, “What I’m hearing is that we have fewer mouths to feed.”
“We?” The blond repeats as he smirks, teasingly leaning into the younger boy’s space without breaking eye contact.
Unperturbed, Jihoon rolls his eyes and opens a bag of chips. “Just so you know, your attempts at flirting are piss-poor. You’re lucky I don’t take it seriously.”
“Why do you think it’s not seri-”
The other boy cuts him off by shoving a chip into his mouth. “Yoshi and Kyu have mouths; those mouths have stories. You make it a pastime. I’m not looking to be a pastime. And besides,” Jihoon looks straight into Hyunsuk’s eyes as the latter chews. “You’re as straight as they come, hyung.”
Hyunsuk nearly chokes.
“Ya!” Jihoon screams, patting his back, “Don’t go dying on me!”
Waving his hands off, Hyunsuk swallows, “I’m not, relax!” Laughing, he continues, opening a water bottle, “But I’m also not straight.”
“Huh?” The younger boy questions, tilting his head.
After drinking, he elaborates, “I used to think I was, but then I met someone and found out that my sexuality had the integrity of a stick of spaghetti—straight until I came in contact with someone hot enough to make me, well, not straight.” He hums in consideration before adding, “I like both, though. So I guess you can say I’m bi.”
Hurriedly looking away at the admission, Jihoon opts to focus his attention on his cup of noodles, lifting the lid and inhaling deeply. “Oh, wow, these seem good to go already.”
“I open up to you and you respond by focusing your attention on food,” Hyunsuk jokingly rants, gently nudging the younger boy’s shoulder with his own. “Didn’t peg you for the cold-hearted type.”
Jihoon meets his eyes again and pouts. “I’m just hungry.”
It’s an excuse. Hyunsuk knows it is, but he doesn’t have the heart to call the younger boy out on it, content on just appreciating how adorable the other looks. Outwardly, he maintains a smile on his face and queries, “Is that so?”
“Yes!” The other boy exclaims, emphasizing his point by breaking his chopsticks apart before shoving it into his noodles. “Besides,” he starts, looking back at the older boy and proceeds to cup his cheeks with both hands, batting his eyelashes. “Would you let this face go hungry? No, right?”
Snorting, he reaches for his own pair of chopsticks and mirrors Jihoon’s actions. “No, maybe not.”
“Maybe?!” Outraged, the younger boy, with his hands still cupping his cheeks, repeats, “Maybe?!”
Stirring his noodles, the blond turns towards his companion, eyes alight. “Maybe.”
Jihoon huffs, redirecting his attention to his food, shoving a few chips into his mouth. “Mean.”
For a moment, nothing is heard but the crumpling of the bag of potato chips against the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. If he were with any other person, then the blond would let the other person be the one to backtrack and recalibrate, but somehow, he just can’t bring himself to do that to Jihoon. The boy wore his heart on his sleeve, and despite only knowing him for a week, Hyunsuk came to the realization that Jihoon possessed an endearing blunt sincerity that many often live without. Now that he’s gotten a taste of it, even he can’t live without it.
So, not wanting the younger boy to be truly upset, Hyunsuk tacks on, “If I’m so mean, then I wouldn’t be offering to buy you dessert after, right?”
Peeking through his bangs, Jihoon asks in a tiny voice, “Any kind of dessert?”
Scooping a hefty bite of noodles up, he affirms before eating, “Anything at all. Name it, and we’ll get it.”
“Mint chocolate ice cream then.” The younger boy all but demands, scooping a hefty bite of noodles into his mouth, looking at the blond as he chews, eyes gauging the other’s reaction.
After swallowing, he repeats, slowly, “Mint choco, huh?” He inhales, “Well. It’s… okay, I guess? I mean… It’s a choice. Definitely a choice. Maybe I just haven’t had the one you like? I’m not against it, I’m just… wary of it.”
“Now, don’t injure yourself trying to explain. I get it.” The younger boy jokes, rolling his eyes as he reaches for another handful of chips. “Not everyone can have exquisite taste.”
Hyunsuk raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying my taste is questionable?”
“You said it, not me,” Jihoon replies with a teasing yet charming lilt to his voice.
“Weird.” The blond states, lifting a bundle of noodles up with his chopsticks, “I find you really attractive, though, so how can my taste be anything but exquisite?”
Without waiting for a reply, Hyunsuk shoves the food into his mouth and chews as he looks at the younger boy, watching as a gaggle of emotions flit across his face as he processes the statement. Then, eventually, a blush, one only made evident by the gentle glow of the moon and the distant light of a convenience store, blooms across Jihoon’s face and dyes his ears.
“Ya!” The younger boy yells, looking at the blond with disbelief, and there’s that electric feeling again, making him feel more awake than the noodles have at this ungodly hour. “You!”
“Me,” He replies, smirking, not breaking eye contact.
And when Jihoon blushes harder and hits his shoulder, the only thought echoing in Hyunsuk’s head as he laughs in response is that he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his days like this.
iii.
When the younger one awoke, he had initially been bashful, eyes looking everywhere but Hyunsuk and their state of undress as he burrowed under the sheets, hiding himself and the evidence of last night with him. Not wanting to make it any more awkward for the younger boy, Hyunsuk had let it be, saying he would order breakfast as he turned the television on. During the next half thirty minutes, they both sat in silence, one watching the movie and the other presumably listening to it. The sound of the doorbell breaks the blond out of his focus, and Jihoon kicks him out of bed, ordering him to answer the door.
So, he goes, picking up his underwear and a bathrobe on the way.
It had started last night, like all their other encounters, and at the same club to boot.
Jihoon, upon seeing him, had greeted him with a jibe; Hyunsuk had responded with a smirk and a quip of his own. And, just like that, the two had settled into a rhythm, bantering. Alcohol was passed around, one glass after the other, one bottle after the first. Two hours in, tongues had become looser, smiles became flirtier, and before they realized, the two sat next to each other as Yoshi and Junkyu were nowhere to be found.
Sometime into the night, with alcohol getting the better of him, Hyunsuk found the music to be dulling down in favor of the sound of his own heartbeat, rapidly beating and echoing in his ears with a steady thrum as he stared relentlessly at Jihoon. The younger boy had been in the midst of animatedly recounting what happened while he was surfing, and Hyunsuk could not bring himself to look away from the boy whose entire existence was somehow more vivid than the glow of neon lights dyeing his skin.
Realizing that he wasn’t getting any reaction, Jihoon had turned to look at the blond, mouth poised to complain, but something on Hyunsuk’s face stopped him in his tracks. What the younger boy had seen, the blond didn’t know. At that moment, all the older boy knew was that he somehow rendered the other boy speechless. All he knew at that moment was that maybe it was better off not knowing.
Jihoon, captivated by something, had taken a shot in the dark, glancing at the blond’s lips, and had, ever so slightly, leaned in before pausing, eyes reflecting an uncertainty floating through an unmistakable sea of want. Hyunsuk, taking the lead, closed the expanse between them until he was the breadth of a whisper away from the younger boy’s lips. Heeding the hesitation on the latter’s face, he whispered, scraping the surface of the other’s lips with his own, “Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to kiss you, and I will.”
In response, the younger boy inhaled sharply against his lips, eyes frazzled but unmoving. Knowing better than to take this as a definite answer, he assures the other boy, “Whatever you want, Jihoon.” He says, voice gentle in a way he hadn’t even known he was capable of being, “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
In lieu of an answer, Jihoon sealed the distance between them instead, bringing Hyunsuk’s entire being to life with a single touch.
That was last night.
Now, here they are, in the room of some hotel, with Hyunsuk dressed in boxer shorts and a loosely tied bathrobe, pushing the cart with their food in.
Looking at the white lump of blankets and pillows, he announces, “Breakfast is served.” Arranging the plates around, he comments, “Best to have at it while it’s still somewhat warm. Otherwise, we’ll have to wait again if we request it to be reheated.”
Shuffling occurs. After a beat or two, a head peeks out from the white duvet mountain. Jihoon, whose hair is sticking up in all directions and still evidently bleary-eyed, manages to ask, lips pursed in a pout, “Did you get me waffles?”
Hyunsuk shouldn’t be so taken with the sight, but he is, feeling a smile tug at his lips. He tries to tamp it down, but maybe he isn’t as successful as he’d wish to be because whatever expression he has on his face causes Jihoon to blush, prompting the younger boy to hide underneath the blanket once more.
Clearing his throat, he confirms, “I remembered you mentioned liking them, so I ordered some. Do you want me to go ahead and slice it up for you?”
A grumble emanates from the blob of sheets. The older boy waits for a few more seconds, just in case an actual, human statement would come, but none does. In fact, Jihoon had seemed content with his grumble because the white lump stopped moving. Unfortunately, the blond isn’t quite fluent in grumblehoonie-speak just yet. So, determined to get the younger boy to eat, especially after last night, the blond makes his way to the side of the bed and abruptly pulls the sheets away. The action, in turn, causes Jihoon to jump up and hiss like a cat.
Amused, he teases, “Are you sure you’re a dog person?”
Quickly covering his upper body with a pillow, Jihoon glares. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, it’s just,” Hyunsuk begins as he gestures to the younger boy, causing the latter’s glare to intensify even more. Figuring that it was wiser to abort his previous line of thought, he drops it, saying, “You know what? Nevermind.” The blond smiles his winning smile, hoping that it would be enough to get the glare to ease up. “I asked if you wanted me to slice your waffles up for you.”
The younger boy raises an eyebrow. “And I answered you, didn’t I?”
Unable to help himself, he pokes Jihoon’s side much to the latter’s annoyance. “I couldn’t exactly hear you underneath all the blankets.”
Rubbing his side, Jihoon grumbles, again, “Well, is it my fault that you have the hearing of an old man? I mean you already drink like one and your hair’s nearly white anyway.”
Not wanting to give that statement any gravitas by acknowledging it, Hyunsuk points out, “You still haven’t answered me properly. Do you want your waffles sliced or not?”
Rolling his eyes, Jihoon looks to the side and says, in a volume that the blond almost didn’t hear, “Sliced.”
Satisfied, he turns around and walks back to the breakfast card. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
The blond gets more grumbles in return. One day, he’d probably be fluent enough to translate grumblehoonie-speak, but for now, he doesn’t let that bother him too much. Anything can be learned, after all.
“Oh, and by the way,” Hyunsuk starts, smiling, “You had no reservations about wanting this ‘old man’ last ni–”
The older boy never gets to complete his sentence, with a pillow to the back of his head a second later, effectively halting his line of thought.
“Focus on our breakfast, old man!”
iv.
A night became two. Two turned to three. Three quickly jumped to four, then, without much pretense, hopped to five. Five bled into six nights and, without subtlety, transformed into seven. Seven—the number of luck. Seven is Hyunsuk’s favorite number. He had claimed it as such since he was a kid, inscribing on most surfaces and leaving his mark. The obsession persists today, with the blond claiming the number as his lucky number and his rule.
In any other instance, he would have called it off by the seventh night, believing it’s an easy way to cap off the rare flings that manage to go beyond the usual one-night mark without getting all too attached. That rule had saved him numerous headaches, tears, and past dalliances banging on his door. That’s his personal rule; it is his guiding doctrine regarding the temptations of the flesh.
Hyunsuk has never disregarded it in the past; yet, here he is, on his eighth night, in his own room, picking out a Marvel movie to watch with a certain Park Jihoon, both fully dressed in character pajamas and lounging on his bed, munching on popcorn and drinking themselves drunk on only soda and juice. He is terribly and laughably out of his depth, but he’d be damned if he revealed such to the other boy. Besides, the more selfish part of him indulges in this, dangerously deciding that if this results in Jihoon’s uncontested attention, perhaps drowning isn’t all that bad.
See, he finds himself not minding a lot of things when it comes to the younger boy. Truthfully, he knows that there’s a word for this—for how he let it go beyond his seven-day rule, for how Hyunsuk allows himself to be strung along by an unknowing boy, for how the blond wishes to monopolize all the attention Jihoon deigns to give—but it’s the word he cannot bring himself to say. Not aloud, not even to himself. Not yet.
“Hyung,” The younger boy whines as he reaches for the remote and selects a different movie, causing a different teaser to play, “We should watch Into the Spider-Verse!”
“Don’t you want to start with the movie that arguably started it all? Besides,” He reasons out, tossing popcorn into his mouth, not interested in regaining control of the remote, “You do know who Iron Man is, so it’s not like you’ll be lost.”
“I know who he is, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in him!” Jihoon argues, also going for the popcorn. At this rate, Hyunsuk might have to pop another bag or two. “Take Yoshi, for example. I know Yoshi, but I’m not interested in Yoshi. I’m sure he’ll make some other girl or guy happy, but it won’t be me.”
“What about Junkyu, then?” He interrogates before he can stop his mouth. His brief lapse in control allows an ugly thought to rear its head as another hideous feeling grips his stomach.
That, too, is something new to him. Admittedly, it took a while for him to name this emotion, having last felt it during his pre-teen years when his parents hadn’t mastered the balancing act required of parents of two children. In his eyes, it’s an immature emotion, and he detests feeling it, but he cannot stop it from taking root, especially when he realizes just how the other boy had mattered to Jihoon over the span of seven days.
Confused, Jihoon repeats, “What about Junkyu?”
“You’re not interested in him?”
The younger boy snorts, looking towards the screen. “You’re beginning to sound like my mom.” Then, he speaks, in a monotonous tone, as though he’s reciting a line he’s said many times before, “No, I don’t like Kim Junkyu that way. He’s my best friend. I can’t even imagine liking him that way.”
The delivery should comfort him, but it causes the feeling to embed itself deeper within his psyche, digging its roots into his own insecurities.
“You have to admit, though,” Hyunsuk contends, digging a deeper grave in the name of curiosity, “It would have made for a lovely story. Hell, it always makes for a lovely story—childhood sweethearts. Best friends to lovers. It’s the bread and butter of the romcom industry and it’s always hard to beat.”
‘It’s something I won’t be able to beat,’ Goes unsaid between them but blares throughout his headspace. Hyunsuk’s mind, ever the traitor, brings up the milliseconds where he notices Junkyu staring for a heartbeat too long and the soft, honey-like emotion the latter’s eyes betray whenever he thinks no one’s looking. And oh, how green his envy is, rich like emeralds and slippery like moss.
Unaware of his inner turmoil, Jihoon turns to look at him again, curious. Hyunsuk prepares himself to be teased, as the younger boy isn’t one to hold back from swinging and neither did he lack the wit to bite back with verbal barbs. The blond readies himself for the pain, for this monster of an emotion to lash out, but it never comes.
“Yeah, but we’re not in a romantic comedy, and I’m not with him. I’m with you, aren’t I? Watching Marvel of all things.” The younger boy frowns, but his eyes remain clear, free of any and all deceit. “I don’t even like Marvel.”
And just like that, the ugly feeling is uprooted, leaving behind a warmth Hyunsuk can’t even begin to put into words. Not wanting to brave that just yet, Hyunsuk, taking a page out of Jihoon’s book, opts to shift the conversation towards a territory they’re both familiar with.
“Ah, but,” The blond teases, leaning in, “You’re interested in me, right?”
Jihoon blushes and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t pull away, pointing out, “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” Then, he glares, ignoring how red his cheeks and ears are, and throws a few pieces of popcorn in the blond’s face, not bothering to wait for a reply. “Now, humor me, will you? We’re watching Into the Spider-Verse as a compromise between Marvel and animation!”
“Alright, alright,” He concedes, giving the younger boy a quick peck, feeling an odd sense of contentment stretch and stretch, enveloping this moment and immortalizing it in his mind, “Put it on already.”
“Finally!” Jihoon cheers as he clicks on the aforementioned movie before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, eyes focusing on the TV screen. In a mumble, he admits, “Honestly, I’ve been curious about this movie.”
While arranging the blanket so that it covers them both, the blond questions, “Why wait this long to watch it then?”
“I never had enough reason to watch it before.” The younger boy states plainly as he watches, unaware of the effect those words have on Hyunsuk. “Do you think I’ll like it, hyung?”
His heart stutters as he silently reminds himself to breathe. As he gazes at the younger boy, there’s that telltale, steady thrum of electricity coursing throughout his entire being, forcing him to confront what he knows is prompting all of these emotions.
“I think you’ll love it.” Hyunsuk answers as Jihoon leans his head on the older boy’s shoulder.
‘I think I love you,’ he admits as he supports the other’s weight, whispering it into existence in his mind, incapable of denying it to himself any longer. ‘I think I’m in love with you.’
v.
Three days later and here he is, standing outside Jihoon’s house at ten in the morning with a tub of blue hair dye in one hand and a pint of mint chocolate ice cream in the other, hoping that the younger boy would say yes to coming with him and helping him dye his hair. He had sent off a text earlier, asking for the younger boy’s address and saying he’d come to pick him up. The latter had readily given it, so the blond had no qualms about coming over.
On the way over, he had jokingly thought that all he needed was a boom box, and they could have recreated one of the monumental scenes that shaped the rom-com industry. Now, as he stands in front of the woman who is presumably Jihoon’s mother, he thinks that, in hindsight, maybe he should have brought along a boom box. Why? Because then, the nostalgic notes of In Your Eyes might help Jihoon’s mother realize that Hyunsuk isn’t the trouble that her harsh glare thinks him to be.
“Eomma!” Jihoon yells as he rushes out their door, confirming the blond’s assumption that the glaring lady is his mom, clutching his bag and kissing his mom on the cheek as he does so. “Stop glaring like that!” The younger boy pouts. “Hyunsuk hyung is a friend! Plus, he’s a nice person.”
“Is that so?” She hums, unconvinced and unimpressed, eyes trailing after the piercings decorating his ears and lips before glancing at the car parked behind him. The blond maintains a pleasant smile, but it seems to have no effect at all. In fact, it seems to do the opposite of endearing him to Jihoon’s mom. “But really, sometimes, you’re too friendly, Jihoonie. Way too friendly. Where did you meet him again?”
Hyunsuk has met many intimidating corporate sharks whenever he accompanied his father to work and at black tie events; nonetheless, he can say, with confidence, that none of them were even half as intimidating as Park Jihoon’s mom. The older woman, while petite, looks like she could clobber Hyunsuk to the ground if he so much as put one toe out of line and made no point of hiding it, displaying her animosity for anyone and everyone to see.
Jihoon complains, “I know how to sniff out bad people, eomma. Besides, he’s a close friend of Junkyu’s,” The younger boy emphasized with wide eyes. “They study in Seoul together.”
Hearing the name-drop, the mom’s demeanor immediately brightens, and her posture loosens. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she pats his head, smiling, “Aigoo. Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Any friend of Junkyu’s is bound to be a good kid.”
The apparent show of preference shouldn’t sting. Really, there is no reason for Hyunsuk to let the green-eyed monster in his head take the reins on his mood, but it does for a brief second, reminding him with unabashed glee that even here, he doesn’t even scratch the surface of being good enough. Call it pessimistic of him, but with the clear-cut preference of Jihoon’s mom being skewed towards the hoodie-loving boy, he can’t help but think it to be a universal thought of those who know them both.
“Eomma, don’t be rude!” Jihoon scolds playfully, rolling his eyes. “Besides,” He comments, crossing his arms over his chest, “Why are you using Junkyu as a meter stick of approval? I’m your kid, right? And I do know how to pick good people to be my friends.”
“Yes, yes,” She placates, smiling fondly at her kid, “It’s just that I’ve seen Junkyu protect you growing up, and he’s so picky with the company he keeps. I just trust that he wouldn’t introduce anyone troublesome to you.” Eyes widening, she snaps her fingers, “Ah, that’s right! Be home early today, okay? Junkyu’s eomma’s inviting us over for dinner, so you better not be late.”
“Yes, yes,” Jihoon imitates, echoing his mom without a single trace of malice, “I’ll be back home before dinner with an empty stomach.”
Laughing, she pats his head gently, shooting an apologetic smile in Hyunsuk’s direction. “Sorry about earlier, Hyunsuk-ssi. Surely, you can forgive this old woman for having a few misgivings.”
“It’s no problem,” The blond manages to say behind a smile he doesn’t even mean, inwardly thanking all the times he’s had to pretend to be interested in the blabberings of his father’s business partners. Neither knows him well enough to call him out on it anyway, so it passes. “Besides, I understand completely, so no harm done.”
Humming, she turns towards her son, “He is a good kid.”
The younger boy smiles, eyes disappearing. “I told you so!”
“Alright, I get it,” The mom laughs, patting her son’s head, “Now, go on. Don’t let me keep you two, hm? Take care, alright?”
“Then you should go inside, eomma,” He says as he gently guides his mom back inside the house. “I already switched the channel to the one with your favorite drama. It’s about to start, I think?”
“Ah! That’s right!” The woman exclaims as she rushes back inside. “I’ll get to that, then. I can’t miss today’s episode at all!”
With his mom heading back in, Jihoon finally turns to look at him with bright eyes, unaware of the monster lurking behind Hyunsuk’s own pair. When a smile breaks the surface of the younger boy’s face, the green-eyed monster retreats, letting the blond breathe.
“This is new, isn’t it, hyung? Meeting this early?” Jihoon teases as he comes over, his bag haphazardly slung on his shoulders, “Did you miss me that bad?”
Shrugging, he opens the passenger seat’s door for Jihoon, remarking, “New things aren’t always so bad.”
Sliding onto the seat, Jihoon jokes, “Is that what they teach you in Seoul?”
“Seoul teaches many things, but the love for new trends and things is ingrained in its DNA.” He answers, helping the younger boy put his seatbelt on without being prompted. “But, yes,” He says after hearing the seatbelt click into place, quickly planting a kiss on the younger boy’s lips. “I did miss you. I can only hope that you missed me the most.”
Jihoon blushes and in a blink of an eye, pushes Hyunsuk out of the car and shuts the door in his face. When the blond realizes what happened after stumbling a few steps back, he bursts into laughter.
Rolling the windows down, the younger boy complains, “We’re wasting daylight, hyung. If you don’t sit down and drive this vehicle, I will!”
“You don’t even have a license,” he manages to say between laughs.
“ Exactly, ” Jihoon threatens in a single breath, rolling the windows back up.
“Jeez,” He says as he rounds the car, “I’m coming.”
During the trek to the driver’s side of the car, Hyunsuk wonders—is Jihoon hurrying because he’s eager to spend time with him, or is it because dinner plans with Junkyu have been penciled in? He can’t, after all, claim to know the younger boy’s heart. He can only hope that it’s the former.
Hyunsuk wonders and wonders and wonders despite the journey to the other side of the car taking less than a minute. However, when he opens the car door and sees Jihoon’s expectant face, he decides that maybe he’s better off left wondering, lest he wishes to break whatever this is, as precarious as it already is.
After all, he has Jihoon now, and in his eyes, that’s better than not having him at all.
.
.
.
.
+1
Summer, like any season, came to a close. Usually, he would have no qualms about returning to Seoul, but now he finds himself riddled with it, looking at the younger boy sitting inside his empty luggage with nothing but fondness in his heart and a sprinkle of regret. Never in his life had he expected that he’d find something that made leaving harder than coming home, but he could not find it in him to be mad at the discovery either.
“Do you really have to go back this early?” The younger boy whines, making no move to stand up and let Hyunsuk load his clothes into his luggage. At this rate, he’d finish packing just right before he had to leave, but he couldn’t find it in himself to complain. “You said your uni’s classes won’t start just yet.”
“Believe it or not, I do have responsibilities that I have to get back to,” He states in a neutral tone as he returns his gaze to his stack of folded clothes before continuing to fold the rest. “I am a reliable son and older brother, as hard as that may be for you to believe.”
“Hey!” A voice yells in offense, “I never said that! It’s just,” The younger boy stalls, seemingly unable to find the appropriate words. “We just started dating, and now we suddenly have to do long distance. I can’t say I didn’t expect it, but now that it’s in my face, it’s sad.”
Raising an eyebrow, Hyunsuk turns around and teases the younger boy, “Do you not trust me or something?”
Hastily shaking his head, Jihoon loudly exclaims, “It’s not that either! Besides, Yoshi did tell me that you don’t do relationships, so the fact that we’re official means something.” Then, he looks away before adding in a soft voice, “It’s just that I wish we had more time.”
Suffice it to say, Hyunsuk’s heart melts.
In the next second, he sets his clothes down and kneels before his boyfriend, gently maneuvering the younger boy’s chin until they’re eye-to-eye, reading the sadness in Jihoon’s eyes without difficulty. The latter’s eyes have always been honest. Some may regard that as a weakness, as being easy to read is something that is everything but helpful in business negotiations, but to Hyunsuk, being trusted and regarded with such honesty is the highest of all praises.
“But we do have more time,” Hyunsuk gently disputes as he strokes Jihoon’s right cheek with his thumb, anticipating its rosiness as he remarks, “We have all the time in the world, Jihoon, for the rest of our lives.”
Just as he predicted, Jihoon blushes. In Hyunsuk’s eyes, no sight is lovelier than.
Placated, Jihoon leans into the older boy’s hand. “And I suppose phone calls would make it easier, huh? Just don’t expect that each and every call I’d be making would be a confessional. That’s a one-off thing, not to be repeated!”
Idly, Hyunsuk mulls over the younger boy’s words because he didn’t receive a phone call that night—he simply heard drunken wailing outside his window and figured that no harm would come from checking where all the blubbering came from. Thinking it to be a drunken misconception, he glibly asks, “What about on special occasions, then?”
“On special occasions, I’d have to say it in person!” Jihoon says, with all the sincerity and heart he could seemingly muster, causing warmth to cover Hyunsuk’s entire being, “There’s nothing better than that, right?”
Unable to help himself, Hyunsuk confesses in a tone just a decibel louder than a whisper, “I love you.”
He utters three little words into the space between them, hoping it would be enough to bridge the distance between their hearts. In response, Jihoon smiles, affirming that those three words are enough and that Hyunsuk himself is enough. The younger boy smiles, and the blue-haired boy notes how the feeling of contentment makes itself a home in his heart as he marvels at how he holds the sun in one hand.
“Thanks. I love me, too.” Jihoon states, pulling the older boy down for a kiss, giggling at how the latter rolls his eyes.
However, when their lips touch, all he can think of is how this kiss feels more like a hello than a goodbye. When Jihoon smiles into the kiss, Hyunsuk confirms the kiss for what it is—a silent, steady confession of love.
And that is nothing short of being electric.