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Seungkwan was a dramatist. He always had been, it was just one of those things people knew about him.
Oh, Seungkwan? He’s a bit dramatic.
He just was. He couldn’t argue when people said it, he stopped trying a long time ago. It was fine, truly, he didn’t mind. The people who love him, love him and all of his dramatics, and the people who didn’t love him, well, he wasn’t going to get into that.
“Marco,” he hears and Seungkwan turns to look at Hansol, who is standing next to him watching him with a raised brow.
Are you okay? Where did you go? Your mind looks so far away.
“Polo,” Seungkwan responds, smiling at Hansol.
I’m okay. I got in my head for a second. I’m with you now.
They’d been doing this little call and response for years, basically since they’d met. It was a thing Hansol knew from his childhood, some game he had learned in America before he moved to Korea. It started as a joke the first few times, just something Seungkwan started to say because parroting things in english was just sort of a thing he did, and then somehow it had evolved. It went from a game to their way of checking in. Seungkwan doesn’t know how many times they’d been across the room from each other and he would hear Hansol’s voice pipe up, just the one word, Seungkwan always responding in kind and vice versa. The members had learned to ignore it at this point, it was just one of those facts of life, like Seungkwan’s dramatics.
Oh, Seungkwan? He’s a bit dramatic and sometimes we think he and Hansol live in their own world with one another.
Marco, Polo. Call, response. It was honestly weirder when they didn’t do it.
“Don’t forget to drink water, Boo, it’s too hot in here,” Hansol says, reaching up to wipe away some of the hair that wants desperately to lay flat and limp on his forehead but really can’t due to all the product in it. Seungkwan fights the urge to lean into the touch.
Also, another fact of life. Seungkwan is in love with Hansol.
Oh, Seungkwan? He’s a bit dramatic and sometimes we think he and Hansol live in their own world with one another and Seungkwan is totally obsessed with Hansol’s existence and has been from the moment they met.
He doesn’t really want to get into that, either. Just because Seungkwan knows almost everyone knows doesn’t mean he really wants to acknowledge it, especially because while he is sure almost everyone knows, he is also pretty sure Hansol is not a part of everyone and that he doesn’t share the same feelings.
Which, it is a bit confusing if he is honest, both parts. Hansol not knowing because Seungkwan doesn’t think he is all that subtle, with all his Hansollie’s and his Nonnie’s and his being all up in Hansol’s space. He doesn’t really think Hansol has personal space from him, because Seungkwan has been invading it since pre-debut days and Hansol has never once complained. Now, the lack of requited love is not confusing because he believes that Hansol has to be in love with him but because sometimes he looks around the room and when he finds him, Hansol is looking at him already with the same look he always has when he stares.
Even without seeing it in action, Seungkwan knows that Hansol looks at him, has seen the videos, but he is about ninety-five percent sure it isn’t because Hansol is in love with him and five percent isn’t enough to get him past the fear of the answer to ask.
Mingyu does not have that issue, doesn’t share Seungkwan’s fears and also doesn’t have much of a filter sometimes, so a few days ago when they were scattered about the practice room, he asked him what Seungkwan has always wanted to. “Why are you always looking at Seungkwan like that?”
“He’s beautiful,” Hansol had replied as if it was just that simple. Seungkwan, from where he had been sitting only half paying attention to the other people in the room, immediately looked up.
“What?” Seungkwan had called out, assuming he had heard it wrong. Hansol had looked over at him. He didn’t seem embarrassed or bothered that Seungkwan had heard.
“Sometimes it’s hard to look away,” Hansol had continued. “Like a siren, only safe.”
And then he was called by Jihoon to go work on some lyrics so the conversation ended there. Seungkwan wants to know what it means; knows he should just ask but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to do it yet. He just let it go, hang in the air for a while, letting it fester with confusion in his chest.
But here they are now, a week later. Hansol is still looking at him, patient as he waits for Seungkwan’s acknowledgement about the whole water thing, and suddenly Seungkwan can’t take it anymore. It all builds to be too much, the fuse burned down and lighting the gun powder.
The cannon goes off.
“How am I a siren?” he blurts and Hansol has this brief look of surprise before he lets out a light laugh. Seungkwan’s brow furrows in response, unsure why this would be funny, and Hansol immediately reaches up, running his thumb across Seungkwan’s brow bone to release the tension and then down the bridge of his nose seemingly because he just can. The hand rests on Seungkwan’s cheek when he’s done.
“Not sure what would confuse you about that,” Hansol answers. Seungkwan doesn’t like that answer and Hansol can tell. “Sirens lured pirates to their deaths with their beauty and their melodic voices. You have both, beauty and melody among so many other things. You could lure me to my death, but I know you won’t because I know I’m safe with you.”
Seungkwan registers all of it, only he gets stuck on a specific piece. He is afraid to ask but he also can’t take the uncertainty anymore, “Other things?”
Hansol opens his mouth to answer but then he is called to go shoot and Seungkwan feels his heart constrict. The other boy sees it, like he always does, going apologetic.
“Don’t panic,” Hansol is soft with him, always has been, and now is no different. He leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Seungkwan’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. The second I’m done, I’m back with you.”
He walks away, and Seungkwan hates it, can’t leave it like this even for just a bit, so he calls out, “Marco.”
Hansol turns, walking backwards with a smile, “Polo.”
Then he turns back and walks towards the photographer to get direction before he starts. Seungkwan is stuck there, watching him with his heart in his own hands, so ready to just hand it over and let what will be, be. It’s exhausting, truly. He’s been standing at the crossroads for so damn long, multiple paths in front of him, unable to step one way or the other due to fears of the monsters that could be hiding in the trees.
He doesn’t want to lose Hansol, doesn’t want to lose what they have, but he also doesn’t want to live without at least knowing.
Two paths, knowledge and ignorance. Both are scary in their own rights.
Hansol walks back up to him after a while has passed, mouth opened to speak, but Seungkwan is who he is and he is in panic, so he cuts him off before any words can come from his stupidly handsome face.
“I’m scared,” he starts and Hansol’s mouth closes, brow furrowing, “I’m scared, Nonnie.”
Always, soft, “Of what, Boo?”
Seungkwan wants to cry, “I’m tired of living in the dark but I’m scared of the light.”
He sounds like he’s begging but he isn’t even sure what he is begging for.
Hansol knows, though. He doesn’t look confused like most people would. He gets it, he always does. It’s just who they are, two people living in one world on their own.
Marco. Polo.
Call. Response.
Facts of life.
“Come here,” Hansol says, holding his hand out. Seungkwan looks down at it, then back up at Hansol’s face that is as gentle and patient as always, and then he takes the hand. Hansol leads them out of the main room, both of them are done with their individual shoots for now so they have time to walk away, and into one of the dressing rooms with no one resting there. He locks the door behind them.
Seungkwan feels a bit trapped, but it’s more by his own feelings than the door.
“Talk to me,” Hansol says, soft, soft, soft.
Seungkwan looks at him, feels the word vomit coming, and does nothing to stop it.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen. I want to be honest but I can’t be honest without possibly setting my life on fire. I can’t tell the truth because if I do, I could lose everything that matters to me and I hate it. I hate the uncertainty; I hate staring at both paths and wondering which is the right one to take. I hate feeling like I have no control, like I’m standing at the dartboard with the dart in my hand but I can’t let it go,” Seungkwan wants to be honest, that’s really the whole point of this discussion, but he can’t let it all go, not yet. “I hate being in love, and I hate that I don’t hate being in love because he makes it so easy to love him. I hate that he doesn’t know that I love him because he should know, he should know the truth but I can’t say it. I just, I can’t, and I want to tell him so badly it feels as if it’s burying me alive.”
Hansol is just looking, listening, absorbing. It should be annoying, the silence and the staring, but it isn’t. It’s just who he is and Seungkwan loves him.
Lord, he loves him.
“Tell him,” Is his response and Seungkwan was afraid of that answer, but he also knew that was what was coming. “Seungkwan, you are braver than you think you are. You are beautiful and melodic. You are funny and kind and strong and you are so brave even when you think you aren’t. I believe in you, always. You can let go of the fear, take the path, throw the dart. Just take a deep breath, and then let it go.”
Seungkwan wants to believe that’s true.
“What if I tell him and the world ends?” Seungkwan asks and it’s a ridiculous notion, far too dramatic and illogical.
But Hansol knows him. He knows his anxieties and fears better than anyone else. He knows his inclination to self-sabotage, to find the worst parts of life and make them his own, knows his tendency towards dramatics. Hansol knows him, and Seungkwan knows he does, so he isn’t surprised by his far too gentle answer.
“What if it doesn’t?” Hansol says, soft and loving. “What if you tell him and it starts?”
And that’s just the way it is. He can’t avoid it anymore. Unknowns plaguing every step, possibilities teetering in either direction, swaying left and right.
Two paths, the end of the world and the beginning.
Seungkwan really is so tired of watching it go back and forth, watching the pendulum swing. He just wants the dart to land, to sit on the board in one place instead of moving around in his hand as he holds it with uncertainty.
So, he chooses a path, and takes a step forward.
Deep breath.
Let go.
“I love you,” he says, because the truth is crushing when it’s all on your own shoulders and he is so drained from carrying the weight alone. Hansol smiles softly at him, and it’s light and wonderful.
The world stops.
“I know.”
Just for a second, it’s all still. But, as always, call and response.
“I love you, too.”
And the world starts again, brighter than before. There’s so many possibilities. Life is full of them. For once, Seungkwan isn’t discouraged by that. In this moment, it brings him to life. Every pathway in front of him, Hansol there next to him, and they don’t seem so scary then.
Hansol is smiling. Seungkwan smiles back. His cheeks hurt with the exertion of it. He never wants to stop.
Hansol kisses him. Seungkwan kisses him back.
The world turns.
Hansol pulls away, leaving his forehead resting on Seungkwan’s, “Marco.”
Call.
Seungkwan laughs, uninhibited and so in love it could hurt, but it doesn’t. Nothing about this could ever hurt. Not anymore.
“Polo.”
And, response.