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The clock strikes midnight when Hongjoong finally looks up from his potions textbook. There’s only one other student still in the library, and they’re passed out on top of a stack of papers. Hongjoong tilts his head to the side, hearing the crackles of his spine in protest. He gathers his books and his wand, intent on getting back to his dorm and crashing for a few hours. He pulls his robe tighter around him as he approaches the nighttime security patrol, flashing his ID and a quick “I’m heading to my dorm room.” As he’s leaving the building, Hongjoong bumps into a solid object, one that goes “oof.” Wands fly and Hongjoong briefly makes eye contact with wide cat eyes and a platinum blonde fringe. Seonghwa.
“Hwa,” he says as he picks up both wands. “What are you doing here? It’s midnight.”
Seonghwa frowns as he accepts his wand back. “I came to bring you reinforcements,” he motions to the glass container he’s holding. “I thought you’d be studying late.”
Hongjoong’s heart stutters a little bit, as it always does when Seonghwa cooks for him. “You didn’t have to,” Hongjoong protests. “I ate earlier.”
“You mean lunch? That was 12 hours ago, dummy,” Seonghwa says and gently places the container on top of the potions textbook Hongjoong is carrying.
“I made too much for dinner. Wooyoung went out to eat with Yeosang and didn’t think to tell me,” Seonghwa says. “So, this is Wooyoung’s portion if that makes you feel any better.”
Hongjoong smiles. “It does, thank you.” They stand awkwardly for a moment, staring at each other. “I’ll eat this at home,” he says. “You should go and sleep. It’s really late.” Seonghwa smiles softly, the corners of his mouth turning upward.
“Okay, Hongjoongie. Sleep well.”
In his dorm room, Hongjoong scarfs down his slightly cold dinner, not caring about reheating it at all. It still tastes good, and his mind is elsewhere. San and Mingi, his roommates, are fast asleep so he washes up quickly and heads to bed. The last thought he has before he succumbs to dreamland is of Seonghwa. He’d decided a long time ago that it was normal to have thoughts of your best friend all the time.
Hongjoong wakes when he hears dishes clattering in the sink. Mingi is standing in the kitchen practicing a simple cleaning spell, but the clumsy giant looks discouraged. Hongjoong breathes a sigh of relief when he spots Seonghwa’s Tupperware safely tucked away on the drying rack where he’d left it several hours ago. “You’re doing well, Mingi-ya,” Hongjoong encourages. “You haven’t broken any dishes this week.” Mingi snorts.
“It’s hard to break dishes when they’re made of plastic, hyung. I keep dropping them,” Mingi grumbles. The roommates made the decision to buy more durable dinnerware last year when Mingi broke half of the set that Wooyoung brought when they all moved in four years ago.
“Where’s Wooyoung?”
“Getting breakfast with Sannie,” Mingi says, holding his wand at a strange angle. Hongjoong gently lays a hand on Mingi’s elbow, correcting the position and sending a soapy cereal bowl to the floor. Mingi puts his wand down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry hyung,” he apologizes. “I’ll clean it up after I get the rest of the dishes done.” Hongjoong glances at his pitiful roommate, and shakes his head. With a flick of his wrist the bowl is back in the sink and the soapy puddle evaporates. “Just finish the dishes, okay? I’m heading to the library before class.” Mingi nods and returns his focus to the sink.
“Do you have time to eat, hyung?” Mingi calls after him. “San and Wooyoung will be back soon, and they said they’d bring extra toast.”
“No, I’ll get breakfast on my way to the library,” Hongjoong shouts back, closing the door behind him. Hongjoong did not, in fact, get breakfast on the way to the library. His stomach rumbles through his morning classes until he finally meets with the whole friend group for lunch. Hongjoong settles with his lunch tray between Yeosang and Yunho. The other seven gossip about their charms professor while he eats quietly.
“Hongjoongie,” he hears Seonghwa from across the table. “Have you decided on your final exam project?” Hongjoong groans hearing the bane of his entire wizarding career’s existence. It’s his final project for school before he graduates and becomes a menial government official. Seonghwa is also in the same boat, but he’s been planning his project since his first astrology class back in second year. The others graduate the following year so they aren’t worried about final projects yet, and the baby of the group Jongho graduates the year after that.
Hongjoong, like the perfectionist he is, has been toying with the idea of doing a rare potion for several weeks. Specifically, a love potion, one of the rarest of them all. Even when brewed correctly the success rate is a mere twelve percent. It’s why he’s been spending hours poring over books in the library. He needs every bit of the twelve percent he can manage. And he’s half sure he’s doing it out of spite for their evil potions professor, who has diligently marked Hongjoong tardy (it’s not like he’s trying to be late) over the last five years more times than he cares to count. Hongjoong loathes the detention hall.
Hongjoong glances at his best friend. “Potion,” he mumbles through a mouthful of rice. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Hey,” Wooyoung protests, “why are you only telling mom? I’m curious too!”
Hongjoong shoots a glare at his problem child, who has no issues expressing his love for the two oldest members by referring to them as mom and dad.
“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa scolds, true to his parental title. “Let Hongjoong eat, he’ll tell everyone eventually.” Wooyoung pouts and settles himself in Yunho’s lap. “Can we go to town and get ice cream today?” The others agree to meet up after classes are over.
Hongjoong drifts through his afternoon classes and heads back to the dorm. He dumps all of his textbooks on the floor by the couch flops himself down onto it. Mingi and San have sports practice right after class so he has the entire dorm to himself for a while. He pulls a notebook and quill out of his bag and begins planning out his stupid complicated project. There are ingredients to gather, equipment to borrow, and he’ll probably need to rent out space from the potions department since brewing itself takes several days.
He's gently being shaken awake by a big catlike creature named San. “Hyung,” his other roommate says, “are you still down for dinner and ice cream?” Hongjoong groans again, realizing he’s making sounds instead of words, and nods his head. His eyes are gritty and he briefly thinks he should have gotten more than a couple hours of sleep that morning. He rubs his eyes and slowly San and Mingi, back from practice, come into focus. “We can carry you,” Mingi offers.
“No, no. I’m getting up I promise.” There’s ink staining his fingers and his cream turtleneck sweater. Damn, I just bought this ink too, he thinks. He magics the ink away from his clothes, rights the now empty ink pot, and brushes himself off. “I’m ready now,” and with that, he’s ushered out the door. They meet the others in the common room, but someone’s missing.
“Where’s Seonghwa hyung?” San asks.
“Right here,” Seonghwa’s low voice reaches them from around the corner. Hongjoong lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Sorry,” the blonde apologizes. He’s wearing gray-blue contacts with a soft gray sweater and it makes his hair glow even lighter. Wooyoung glues himself to Seonghwa’s side immediately and motions for the group to head out. “Everyone’s here! Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
Dinner is a relatively peaceful affair. Wooyoung detaches himself from Seonghwa and remains at San’s side for most of the evening. Jongho and Hongjoong bicker about everything and nothing. Mingi and Yunho have their heads glued together like usual. Seonghwa and Yeosang observe the commotion quietly as usual.
Ice cream is a separate meal, according to Wooyoung. Hongjoong opts for one scoop of a pretty berry sherbet, and when he meets the others on the bench outside finds that Seonghwa has gotten the same flavor. “Oh,” Seonghwa exclaims when Hongjoong seats himself next to him, “we have couples ice cream today!” Hongjoong rolls his eyes good naturedly and puts his cup down on the cobblestone like he can’t stand to hold it anymore. Secretly, he thinks, he enjoys Seonghwa’s attention. Yunho snickers quietly and Hongjoong threatens a fist at him.
***
The weather soon becomes too cold for ice cream group dates. The cold winds and snowdrifts pick their way through Hongjoong’s hair as he moves through the forest. He’s several hundred meters deep and the light is becoming scarce, too focused on finding the last ingredient for his love potion to keep up any sort of lighting or wind-protection spell. Hongjoong curses himself for not bringing an extra scarf. He guesses he must have been going for fashion today, although he suspects the woodland creatures out right now (none, to be exact) would not have cared about his outfit.
Finally, half frozen to death, he finds the Hellebores near a clearing and gathers as much as he can. The wind bites at his nose and he does his best to shift his scarf with numb gloved hands. By the time he returns to his dorm room, he can’t feel any of his limbs at all but his messenger bag has enough plants for a dozen potions.
He belatedly notices that Seonghwa, Yunho, and Wooyoung are visiting as he’s stripping his gloves off. “Hi,” he mumbles and plops himself face down on the couch. “Hongjoongie, where have you been?” Seonghwa looks over at him. “You’re freezing,” he scolds. Hongjoong lets Seonghwa mother him and is brought a cup of tea and an extra blanket from his own room as he defrosts.
“I needed plants for my project,” Hongjoong says finally, clutching at the duck shaped mug. “They’re too expensive at the supply store in town.”
“San and I would have come with you,” Mingi frowns. “It would have been safer, hyung.”
“It’s okay,” Hongjoong soothes. “I decided to go at the last minute before it got dark.”
“Well, you should have let one of us know where you were going. You do know how to use message bubbles, right?” He shoots Seonghwa the nastiest side eye he can muster, although the effect is probably ruined because his nose is redder than a poison apple.
“Yes, mother.”
“Ooooh mom and dad are fighting,” San says, failing miserably at hiding his smile. Seonghwa, completely unbothered, smiles at him and ruffles Hongjoong’s already mussed dark hair.
***
“When are you guys going to confess?” Yunho asks. Hongjoong is surprised, but not really. Yunho for all of his happy puppy energy is far more perceptive than Hongjoong tends to give him credit for.
“When you confess to Mingi,” Hongjoong counters. Yunho scoffs. They’ve had this conversation before, and Hongjoong knows Yunho and Mingi will dance around each other until the end. Yunho’s waiting for Mingi to confess first, but Mingi is too shy when it comes to Yunho.
“I’m not ruining our friendship,” Hongjoong continues. “I like the way things are. Besides, I’m not destined for anything great. I’ll be a government employee like my dad.”
“You have your fashion line,” Yunho says. It’s Hongjoong’s turn to scoff now.
“Non-magical fashion line,” Hongjoong retorts. “Wizard fashion is black robes and there’s not much you can do with those.”
Yunho stares down into his cup of hot chocolate, not pushing the subject further. For all of Hongjoong’s creativity and bravado, he’s risk-averse. Why ruin a perfectly good thing for the chance of something more?
***
Hongjoong’s first attempt at the love potion is completed just before Christmas. It took over a week to brew alone and is an awful orange color. Hongjoong dumps the cauldron out into the sink. He only has a few more months to perfect the pretty pink potion before he graduates. He starts to think he may have bitten off more than he can chew. It’s too late to change course now, so Hongjooong returns the cauldron to its stand and starts summoning more ingredients from the surrounding cabinets.
Two months and six attempts later, his potion is now on the pink side of orange and more iridescent than his first batch but smells like Mingi’s socks after practice. Hongjoong is considerably more discouraged at this point. Briefly, he thinks about dropping out of school and taking a sabbatical. Seonghwa would probably scold him and tell him to take a break from potion-making, so Hongjoong leaves the alchemy building in search of his white-haired best friend. When he discovers he’s not in any of the usual Seonghwa spots, he finally resorts to a message bubble. He crafts a message carefully, wraps it in a thin shiny layer of bubble, and watches it float toward its intended recipient.
Where r u? -Joong
My dorm! Come over. I made food. -Hwa
“I love you,” is the first thing Hongjoong says to Seonghwa when he arrives. Hongjoong can’t really remember the last time he ate and his stomach grumbles the moment he smells something delicious simmering on the stove. Seonghwa smiles and motions towards the living room.
“Go sit, Joongie. It’s almost ready, I’ll bring it out for us.”
“Where are Wooyoung and Yunho?” Hongjoong enquires about Seonghwa’s remaining roommates.
“They’re out,” he hears from the kitchen. “I’m not sure.”
A steaming bowl of stew is placed in front of him a few moments later, temporarily obstructing his view of the blonde savior in front of him.
“How’s the final project going?” Seonghwa asks when Hongjoong’s bowl has been mostly inhaled.
“Terribly.” Hongjoong rarely shows weakness like this to the others, but Seonghwa has always known exactly what to say to make him feel better. Hongjoong supposes it’s a perk (or a consequence, he’s not sure) of being the same age and his second-in-command. The corners of Seonghwa’s mouth turn downward.
“Hongjoongie,” Seonghwa says, encouragingly. “You’ve only done a few attempts. You’ll have it down by springtime.”
“I know, but these few attempts are so frustrating. I thought I was a decent wizard.”
“You’re a great wizard, Joongie. And no one would blame you if it takes a few attempts to make one of the most difficult potions known to our kind. I’d bet it would take Professor Jung a few tries too.”
Hongjoong, chews slowly, somewhat reassured by Seonghwa’s words and his home cooking.
“Let’s go out for a meal next time,” Hongjoong says, changing the subject. “My treat. You’re always cooking for me these days.”
Seonghwa brightens. “I like making food for you,” he says. “It makes me feel good. Like I’m useful.”
Seonghwa abruptly stops speaking, like he’s said too much. His ears turn a little pink, and Hongjoong is only endeared. “Thank you, Seonghwa-ya. You’re so much more to me than just my personal chef, you know.”
Seonghwa nods, and gets up to bring their bowls to the sink. Hongjoong decides to take the rest of the evening off, and allows Seonghwa to choose a movie for them to watch. When Wooyoung comes home, Hongjoong spends the remainder of the movie pushing the younger male away from cuddling. Wooyoung knows Hongjoong doesn’t care for skinship and never misses an opportunity to take advantage of it.
***
Hongjoong goes shopping with grabby-hands Wooyoung, and he’s miserable. He can’t seem to find anything appropriate for Seonghwa’s birthday this year. What his best friend truly deserves is some pretty silver jewelry, but all of that is so far out of Hongjoong’s budget right now. Wooyoung gestures to some cute potholders and tugs at his sleeve.
“If you don’t get these for him, then I will,” Wooyoung says excitedly.
“Take them, Young-ah. You saw them first,” Hongjoong grins. Wooyoung squeals and picks a design with bunnies and another design with squirrels. Happy with his gift, Wooyoung trots off to pay.
A glint of light catches his eye as he walks past a display of non-magical novelties. A chrome silver pen. Not that useful since the invention of the magical quills, but for a man that tends to do things manually instead of magically, it’s perfect.
Two days later, the gang is gathered at Hongjoong, Mingi, and San’s dorm. A strawberry cake has been brought out, Seonghwa’s favorite. He blows out his birthday candles without fanfare and fends off the others asking what he wished for. “It’s bad luck!” he says, grimacing as San places a birthday tiara haphazardly on his head.
Gifts are distributed. Wooyoung’s potholders are met with a happy noise and kiss on the forehead. Seonghwa rushes to put them in the kitchen. There’s a cute coupon book from Mingi and fancy dipped strawberries from Yeosang added to the pile of gifts on the table.
Finally, Hongjoong presents his poorly wrapped in old Wizarding Times paper gift to the blonde. Seonghwa gasps when he sees what’s inside. “Hongjoongie, this is beautiful. You shouldn’t have.” He picks up the pen with delicate fingers. When he looks up, eyes wide, Hongjoong swears each dark orb contains half the galaxy. “Teach me how to use it?” Hongjoong stops breathing for a moment.
Hongjoong swallows the lump in his throat. He lets the corners of his lips turn upwards and nods, not trusting his ability to formulate words at this point. He also gives Seonghwa an awkward pat on the knee, since it’s his birthday after all. “Later,” he manages to croak out. Even if it were a matter of life or death, Hongjoong doesn’t think he’d remember a single thing from his travels in the non-wizarding world with his family. Alcohol is shoved into everyone’s hands for a celebratory birthday shot. “Speech! Speech! Speech!” Jongho leads the younger boys in shouts. Seonghwa smiles brilliant white, always keen to indulge them.
“This is the best birthday ever. Thank you. I love you all. Cheers!” The alcohol burns its way down Hongjoong’s throat and settles in a warm bubble at the pit of his stomach. He glances around the table at his whole team, his family, only seeing seven other faces of unrestrained happiness and pure unadulterated joy. He wishes he could bottle up this moment forever, love potion be damned. Friendship potion, he thinks, would be much stronger.
***
Hongjoong has lost count of how many potions he’d made so far this year. By the time the weather warms his concoction is finally pink, bubbly, and smells like strawberries and cream. He thinks he’s finally gotten the timing right, and plans to add the final ingredient during the exam period with his professors watching. Satisfied, he heads back to his dorm intending to spoil himself a little for all the hard work.
Unsurprisingly, he finds seven boys crowding the living room when he arrives. “What’s for dinner?” Hongjoong pokes.
“Barbecue,” Wooyoung answers absentmindedly from his perch on San’s lap. “Reservation’s at seven thirty.”
He grins to himself when he spots Seonghwa on the floor by the couch leaning against Yunho’s legs, scribbling away in a notebook with the chrome silver pen.
Hongjoong settles on the floor next to Seonghwa, knees barely brushing. The late afternoon sun streaming through the window warms his back. He puts his face as close as he can to the platinum blonde, who has been too absorbed to notice. “What are you working on?”
Seonghwa literally jumps. “Gods, you scared me Joong.” He holds a hand over his heart and tilts his head to the ceiling. “I’m going to die young and beautiful, aren’t I?”
“You’re being dramatic, Seonghwa-ya,” Hongjoong scolds. “It’s just me.” Seonghwa eyes him without moving his head.
“It’s just me,” he mocks. “You’ll be the number one culprit if I die. I’ll write it into my will.”
“I don’t think it works like that.” Seonghwa is fully glaring at him now, waving the pen way too close to his eyeball. Hongjoong grasps his hand lightly, setting it in his own lap.
“You’ve been working on that notebook for weeks now. I was just curious,” Hongjoong says, softer this time.
“I know, I just like teasing. You’re not allowed to know until it’s finished though,” Seonghwa replies, closing the notebook and tucking the pen inside.
“It would be faster with a quill,” Hongjoong adds, just to get the last word in, which earns him a half-hearted slap on the back of the neck. Yunho looks down at the two oldest from his spot on the couch, deciding his peacemaker services won’t be needed.
***
Final exam day approaches all too quickly. Hongjoong has his final ingredient lined up, cauldron boiling. He stands in an empty lecture hall in front of a panel of several professors, all of whom he’d been taught by at some point in his illustrious (not) educational career.
Hongjoong tosses the Hawthorn leaves into the bubbles, stirs his wand four times counterclockwise, then five times clockwise, and waits. He prays to whichever gods are listening while his heart tries to pound its way out of his chest. Slowly, the mixture turns its characteristic iridescent pink, and strawberries and cream wafts from the podium where he stands.
Hongjoong almost sighs in relief, but doesn’t out of fear the potion will somehow know and turn orange. He carefully siphons the liquid in to a glass vial and presents it to the panel. They all examine the vial carefully, writing his final marks on pieces of parchment.
“Candidate Kim Hongjoong,” booms Professor Jung, evil potions master. “As your final test, you will drink this potion.”
Drink his own potion? Seriously? He thought he’d pass simply by brewing it correctly. It hadn’t crossed his mind that they’d force him to actually drink it. Hongjoong is fairly sure he’s turned an unhealthy shade of green as he fights off a wave of nausea.
“What?” he says, rather stupidly in hindsight.
“We cannot be sure of its efficacy,” Professor Jung says. “You’d like to graduate, correct?”
Hongjoong only nods. The glass vial is floated back to him and he grasps it in his left hand, eyeing it distrustfully. He knows he made it correctly. He’s mainly just terrified of what, or rather who, will appear when he drinks the potion. It’s not like he’s had much time for dating. Between his studies and his fashion hobby, his seven friends are all he’s needed over the last six years.
Sucking in air through his teeth, he uncorks the vial and knocks back its entire contents down his throat. It tastes horrible. Nothing happens. He had a seventy-two percent chance of nothing happening. Hongjoong swears he sees Professor Jung smirk. He knows he did his best. He hopes it’s enough to pass so that he can graduate and move on with his life. The main academic building’s north wing bathroom ghosts are really starting to get to him.
“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong bows deeply toward the panel. “I hope it’s enough to pass.”
He makes his way toward the door, now-empty cauldron in tow. A loud thump sounds from the back of the lecture hall. “Ow,” a raspy voice grumbles. Hongjoong looks up to see disheveled white-blonde hair sticking up from behind a row of seats. The cauldron drops, slamming against the wood floors.
“Seonghwa hyung?”
Oh shit.
******
He must have done something wrong with this batch. There’s no way the love potion, which summons true loves, had accidentally pulled his best friend from class. Hongjoong rushes down the aisle towards his friend, who is still on the ground rubbing his tailbone.
“Are you alright? Is anything broken?” Hongjoong’s questions come rapid fire as he kneels down beside him.
“I’m fine,” Seonghwa says. Professor Jung appears like a vision above both of them, eyes slightly wide, like he can’t believe Hongjoong actually pulled it off. “….baby,” he adds softly, as an afterthought.
Right. If Hongjoong wants to pass his final, he’s going to have to pretend the potion worked. And Seonghwa. Sweet, lovely Seonghwa has come to the conclusion faster than he has. Unsurprisingly.
Hongjoong has no time to think. “It’s really you?” he asks, cupping Seonghwa’s jaw as gently as he can without showing the trembling in his hands.
“Yes,” Seonghwa replies. “Help me up.” Hongjoong stands abruptly and reaches towards Seonghwa, who manages to rise a little more gracefully. Their hands stay clasped together. Hongjoong holds on to Seonghwa like a lifeline.
Professor Jung stands silently, observing the scene with wide eyes. “Very well, candidate. This portion of the exam is complete. I’d like to see both of you in my office next week.” Hongjoong feels the potions master’s beady eyes boring holes into their backs as they leave the lecture hall. Once they’re around the corner, Hongjoong lets go of Seonghwa’s hand.
“Hwa, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened,” he blurts, hanging his head.
“We’re still within earshot, you big dummy,” Seonghwa hisses. He grasps Hongjoong’s hand again and quickly leads him out of the building. Neither of them breathes until they’re safely within the walls of Hongjoong’s dorm room.
“I had no idea, Seonghwa, I’m so sorry. I swear I made the potion correctly, we got the 78% error rate I’m sure of it. Didn’t you get pulled out of charms? Are you hurt? It sounded like it hurt. Really, I’m so sorry,” Hongjoong begins spluttering right away, dropping Seonghwa’s hand and pacing the living room. He’s sure he’s about to tear his hair out in frustration. How could this have possibly happened? The textbooks said all or nothing, either your true love would appear or they didn’t. When he glances over at Seonghwa, however, his best friend is wearing a serene mask.
“It’s okay, Joongie,” he says slowly. “But we’re going to have to keep appearances up for the rest of the year if you want Professor Jung to pass you.”
“It’s okay,” Hongjoong repeats slowly, processing. “It’s only three weeks.”
Seonghwa frowns. “Yes, three weeks.”
***
Wooyoung literally squeals when Seonghwa and Hongjoong break the news to the rest of the group. They’d be fake dating through to graduation. It isn’t lost on Hongjoong when they’re congratulated like a real couple.
“Mom and dad are finally together for real,” San says gleefully. Hongjoong meets Seonghwa’s eyes over Jongho’s head and they share a look, but neither of the pair corrects him.
They’re not really together, they’re just together in public. Hongjoong’s mantra has worn itself out in his brain. He can’t spare any extra room for dangerous thoughts, the ideas that threaten his self-control whenever Seonghwa looks at him with his sparkly eyes.
Hongjoong has a minor breakdown right before their meeting with Professor Jung. Seonghwa soothes him through it, and they make it hand in hand to the potions master’s office. The meeting goes well, just some criticisms for Hongjoong’s form but nothing to disqualify his exam attempt. Seonghwa plays the part of doting boyfriend perfectly, and Hongjoong hopes it’s enough to convince Professor Jung they’re madly in love.
***
Ice cream group dates resume as soon as the weather is warm enough. Hongjoong sits on the bench in his usual spot, this time with Seonghwa leaning against him feeding him bites of strawberry cheesecake cone. It feels so natural, like they’ve been together forever.
The arm he has wrapped around Seonghwa traces patterns on his thin sweater. He feels plush lips press into his jaw, and he barely suppresses the groan. Yeosang at least has the decency to look appalled. Hongjoong winks at him and tightens his hold around Seonghwa. It feels surreal that he gets to do some of the things the deepest part of him has wanted since he met bright eyed, dark haired first year Seonghwa.
And since it’s Friday, Wooyoung wins the argument to stay out late and grab drinks at the local bar. Hongjoong is pleasantly buzzed, snuggled up in a corner booth and watching the others enjoy themselves. Yunho and Mingi are breaking it down on the dance floor. San and Yeosang are battling Wooyoung and Jongho at a game of pool. He and Seonghwa have already placed their bets on the winner.
He rubs his thumb over the back of Seonghwa’s hand, catching his attention. “Do you want to go home, Joong?” Hongjoong shakes his head no. He’s itching to do something, to fully enjoy a rare night out with his closest friends. “Do you want to dance?” Again, Hongjoong shakes his head no. He’s definitely not drunk enough for that. “Okay,” Seonghwa concedes.
For the first time, Hongjoong lays his head on Seonghwa and allows himself to snuggle in. He feels the blonde stiffen for just a moment. An arm comes up around his waist, lighting in its wake a path of electricity and warming his entire body. He lets himself enjoy the moment and bathe in their chemistry. Hongjoong doesn’t even move when San and Yeosang lose him 5000 won, or when Wooyoung comes over to squish him and Seonghwa into a celebratory hug. When they part ways at the end of the night, the last brush of their fingers leaves Hongjoong feeling tingly. And even later, when he’s in bed he still feels the remnants Seonghwa’s touch just before he drifts off to sleep.
***
They spend more time alone, particularly in Seonghwa’s room because it’s cleaner than Hongjoong’s. For a while they just work separately, Seonghwa on the bed reading and Hongjoong at the desk writing an essay for herbology class.
Seonghwa moves first.
We’re not together. We’re not together.
Hongjoong’s chair rests flush against the bed.
We’re not together. We’re not together.
Hongjoong is in the bed. Chest to chest with Seonghwa.
We’re not together. We’re not together.
He thinks he moves first this time. He’s so close he can see the fairy lights floating in Seonghwa’s eyes. When their lips meet, Hongjoong thinks he’s been set on fire. Seonghwa’s mouth is so soft against his. Warm, delicate hands come up to cup his face. All he can do is grasp at the front of Seonghwa’s robes and hold on for dear life.
The slide of Seonghwa’s mouth against his is absolutely sinful. He’d expected kissing Seonghwa would be gentle and soft, but Seonghwa kisses like a starving man, hungry and demanding. Warmth pools in his belly, and he barely holds back a groan when Seonghwa’s long tongue makes its presence known.
When they break apart for air, Seonghwa presses their foreheads together. Hongjoong’s mind is a mess, trying to consolidate the fact that he kissed his best friend, who definitely kissed him back, with the fact that they’re in a completely fake romantic relationship. And now he’s fucked it all up.
Suddenly, Hongjoong jerks. He quickly gathers his papers and textbooks and stands at the doorway.
“I…Seonghwa…I’m…” he stutters. He barely registers the hurt on Seonghwa’s face. “I shouldn’t have done that.” And he sprints.
***
They don’t see each other for a week. In fact, Hongjoong rarely leaves his room other than to go to class. He dodges his friends as best he can, and he thinks he’s doing a great job of it until San barges in one day.
“Hyung, we’ve had enough. Seonghwa hyung is fucking miserable. You’re ignoring all of us. Aren’t you guys going to talk?”
“No,” Hongjoong says. He’s absentmindedly playing with a quill floating in a bubble above his head.
“Did you guys fight?”
“No.” Silence. San sits on the bed beside Hongjoong.
“I fucked up,” Hongjoong says quietly. “He hates me.” He hears more than sees San exhale through his nose.
“You two were so happy last week, weren’t you?” Hongjoong nods slowly, still focused on his quill bubble.
“If there’s a chance Seonghwa loved you back, wouldn’t you take that chance?”
“That’s…terrifying,” Hongjoong concludes. “And there’s no chance. I’ve already messed things up.” San glares at him and pops the bubble. The quill falls, smacking Hongjoong in the face.
“Ow!” Hongjoong rubs at his forehead, smudging ink everywhere.
“For a leader, you’re so stubborn sometimes,” San says. “I think your chances are really good. More than twelve percent.” Hongjoong looks over at him finally.
“I know you don’t believe me,” San continues. “But will you at least talk to him? Apologize for whatever it is you did? You guys can’t be worse off than you are now so just confess.”
“Confess what?”
“Don’t play stupid. That’s insulting to both of us.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Both of you are so in love with each other and both of you are so oblivious. Everyone knows, even Mingi.” Hongjoong frowns.
“I’m not in love…” he trails off, confused. Memories of Seonghwa flash before him, like some death montage. Seonghwa at the apple orchard Yunho had begged them to visit, proudly showing a freshly picked fruit. Seonghwa rubbing San’s back as he vomits into the toilet after a night out. Seonghwa in the kitchen wearing one of his ridiculous frilly aprons cooking for him. Seonghwa, a first year with midnight black hair covering his eyes, choosing a strong cedar wand. In a way, Hongjoong realizes, it is a death montage. The death of a long, cherished friendship.
“You’re right. I can’t lose him.”
Hongjoong leaps off the bed, headed to campus in search of his platinum-haired soulmate. San shakes his head. “That’s not exactly what I meant,” he shouts after him, but Hongjoong is long gone.
***
He finds Seonghwa reading on a bench in the commons, taking advantage of the warm sunshine. His platinum hair is sticking up in all directions from running his hands through it too many times. There are gray circles under his eyes.
“Hi.”
Seonghwa looks up. “Oh. Hello.”
Hongjoong wrings his hands together nervously.
“Can we talk?”
Seonghwa considers for a long moment. “Sure,” he replies with a sigh. “I have some things I’d like to tell you too.”
They find an empty classroom, and Hongjoong soundproofs the door with a wave of his wand.
“I…”
“Joong…”
They both speak at the same time. “You first,” Hongjoong says, giving Seonghwa a watery smile he hopes is somewhat encouraging. He leans back against a wooden desk near the podium.
“After graduation, I think we should go our separate ways,” Seonghwa says softly, eyes brimming with tears.
“What?” Hongjoong asks dumbly.
“I don’t think we can be friends anymore, Joongie. I’m sorry I crossed the line.”
Hongjoong stares in shock. Their six years of friendship, over just like that?
“I can tell the others, if you’d like. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I…I…well…” Hongjoong stutters. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m really truly sorry.”
“Me too,” Seonghwa says. He reaches out and squeezes Hongjoong’s hand briefly. Then he’s gone.
Hongjoong, for the first time in his life, sobs.
***
Two days later, the graduation ceremony finishes flawlessly. Hongjoong spent the last few days packing his things to move into a new apartment closer to the city. His eyes are puffy, but no longer red after all the crying he’d been doing. His roommates had been doing their best to comfort him, but the pitying looks weren’t lost on him.
Hongjoong looks over to see Seonghwa a few rows away, throwing his graduation cap into the air. His gray circles are a little worse, but he still looks stunning as usual. The Seonghwa-shaped hole in his heart throbs again, but if Seonghwa couldn’t bear to be friends with him anymore, then he’d deal with the pain.
It takes a few more months before Wooyoung finally convinces Hongjoong to return to weekly group dinners. He’d managed to stay in contact with everyone except Seonghwa after he started his new job. He also stopped asking about Seonghwa about a week after graduation. He didn’t want updates on whether Seonghwa was dating someone or if he was happy. It hurt too much to know, so he’d claim ignorance.
He regrets. He regrets not telling Seonghwa he loves him. Loves him as more than a friend. Loves him enough to fight for their relationship. He regrets taking so long to realize his feelings. But he’s gone now, and he doesn’t have any chances left. Zero percent.
Hongjoong knocks on the new dorm door tentatively with a fruit tart in tow. The rest of the group had moved in to a bigger dorm after he and Seonghwa graduated. Yunho opens the door.
“Hi, hyung!” he greets cheerfully, taking the tart box out of his hands. “You look horrible, you’ve been working too much. Come in!”
Hongjoong steps inside and hands the liquor off to Jongho to distribute. Truthfully, he hasn’t felt much like himself since that fateful day Seonghwa fake-broke up with him. He’s been slogging through his new job, just meeting the bare minimum productivity and spending lonely evenings at home alone with his thoughts. Raging insomnia keeps him up most nights. Obviously, he hasn’t told anyone. He probably would have told Seonghwa if they were still friends, but Hongjooong digresses. Wooyoung had reassured him that Seonghwa wouldn’t be joining in tonight, so Hongjoong finally agreed to come to dinner.
The new dorm is noisy with six people living in it. “How do you get anything done here?” Hongjoong muses. “We don’t,” Mingi smiles, throwing an arm around his shoulders and guiding him to their new table. Wooyoung cooked dinner this week, something about wanting to be “wife material,” whatever that means. Yeosang is cutting into the fruit tart Hongjoong brought when the doorbell rings.
“Did you invite anyone else?” San asks. Wooyoung shakes his head. Yunho gets up to open the door.
“Oh,” he hears from the entryway. “Hi, Seonghwa hyung. Didn’t think you were going to make it today.”
Hongjoong’s heart stops. He sees San and Wooyoung look over at him with wide eyes. Hongjoong smiles at them reassuringly. He can be civil and mature and not burst into tears. Easy.
“Sorry I’m late,” Seonghwa says, emerging with a few bottles of peach soju in hand. The first thing Hongjoong notices is his hair is dark again. The second thing Hongjoong notices is the hollowed cheekbones and dark circles of exhaustion. The last thing Hongjoong notices is how sad Seonghwa looks. He looks like a fallen angel. It’s evident in his demeanor, in the bright smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Seonghwa’s eyes widen a little when he lands on Hongjoong. Hongjoong freezes. The silence is quickly broken by Wooyoung running to give the oldest a hug.
“Hi everyone. Hi Woo,” he says, gently prying the human octopus off. “What’s for dessert?”
The evening is awkward for Hongjoong. Everyone is chattering like normal as they all settle in the living room to watch a movie. He tries not to look at Seonghwa too much, and hovers around the quieter members Jongho and Yeosang. Hongjoong thinks about making a quick exit several times, but he did promise he’d be here tonight after several months of whining, especially from Wooyoung.
Hongjoong wakes as the credits are rolling because his pillow, Yeosang, shifts to turn the movie off. “You can stay here if you’d like, there’s space in my room,” Yeosang offers. Hongjoong rubs at his eyes and shakes his head.
“I’m going to head out. I’ve got work tomorrow,” he says, stretching his arms above his head.
“Me too,” Seonghwa pipes up from the other couch.
“Oh good,” Wooyoung says, the little gremlin. “You two can walk each other out.”
***
If Hongjoong thought dinner was awkward, then the walk to the bus stop is exponentially more awkward.
“How are you?” Seonghwa asks as they leave campus grounds.
“Good. You?”
“Good.” Hongjoong nods in response. They walk in silence side-by-side. Then, they board the same bus heading toward the city.
“This is my stop,” Hongjoong says, getting up from his seat.
“Wait,” he hears from behind him. “Are you going to dinner next week?”
Hongjoong pauses. “I’m not sure.” He turns to look at Seonghwa, who is watching him with wide eyes. “Well, maybe.” Seonghwa visibly deflates, nodding. Hongjoong gets off the bus. He watches until the taillights become pinpricks before he turns down his street and heads up to his apartment.
***
Hongjoong powers through two more awkward (for him) group dinners before he stops going. His birthday is nearing, and he manages to find an excuse to get out of his own birthday celebrations.
It’s on a blustery cold evening after work, the day before his birthday, that he receives a message bubble. He’s trying out a new scrubbing charm on his kitchen counters when he sees the message floating in his peripheral vision.
He shifts his wand.
Check your front door.
Hongjoong could recognize Seonghwa’s neat penmanship from a mile away, even without a signature. But it’s strange. It’s been a month since he stopped going to group dinners, a month since he last saw Seonghwa and exchanged a few mundane words with him. It’s only when he passes by the kitchen that Hongjoong realizes he has never gotten over losing his best friend and fake-almost-real boyfriend. Seeing his handwriting starts pulling at the fragile stitches holding Hongjoong’s heart together. He takes a deep breath and opens the front door.
There’s no one there.
But there’s a white gift box at his doorstep, tied neatly with an electric blue ribbon. He brings the box inside and sets it on the table. He considers opening it tomorrow, on his actual birthday, but his curiosity wins. There’s a card tucked into the ribbon, so he pulls that out first.
Hongjoong,
Happy birthday! I hope this year is full of wonder and joy.
I’m the worst friend imaginable. I hate to do this over your birthday, but I didn’t know how to approach you. I ended our friendship out of fear, and it’s something I will regret for the rest of my life. I’ll be waiting here if you ever find it in your heart to forgive me. I miss you deeply. I’m sorry.
Enjoy the gift.
Hwa
Hongjoong reads the card four more times. He’s mad that Seonghwa was coward enough to hide behind a birthday card after being the one to break them up. But he’s not mad that Seonghwa reached out first. He forms a bubble message.
Can we talk? In person? -Hongjoong
He pulls apart the blue ribbon to reveal a glass container of homemade soup. Despite the exhaustion and the bitterness, Hongjoong smiles. He’s useless in the kitchen, and Seonghwa knows it.
Hongjoong’s birthday is a quiet affair. The boys drop by with presents and cake after work, and Hongjoong enjoys having the company briefly before rushing them back to the dorms. It’s a school night, after all.
***
“Happy belated birthday.” Seonghwa places Hongjoong’s latte on the table in front of him. The café is busy, even for a Saturday morning.
“Thanks,” Hongjoong says, cradling his coffee cup. “And thanks for meeting with me.”
Seonghwa shakes his head good-naturedly. “It’s not far from my place. I should be thanking you for wanting to speak with me.” They sit together in silence, enjoying their warm drinks while Hongjoong gathers the courage to speak. He’d always been awful at expressing his feelings, especially with words and even more so with skinship.
“I,” his voice breaks. He clears his throat. Seonghwa eyes him expectantly. “I missed you too. Life without you was…” He sniffs. He can’t cry now. This is probably his last chance to lay all of his cards out on the table. “…difficult.”
Seonghwa nods. His features soften and his hand lifts to reach toward Hongjoong, but he thinks better of it and lets it fall back into his lap.
“But I was so angry with you, too. And angry at myself. I realized too late that I loved you.”
The corners of Seonghwa’s lips tilt down in hurt, but he lets Hongjoong finish.
“What I wanted to tell you that day was that we should stop pretending, and start something for real. But it was too late, Hwa. You’d already made up your mind and I couldn’t fight that. I regret it, you know? Regret not fighting harder for us. I know you don’t love me that way but I missed our friendship. And I’m sure the rest of the friend group is struggling to divide their time between us.” Hongjoong stops abruptly, like he’s said too much.
“I was so hurt, Joong,” Seonghwa says after a few minutes of painful silence, dragging a hand through his dark locks. “When you ran out on me like that. When you looked at me like I was the biggest mistake you’d ever made.”
Hongjoong looks at him incredulously.
“I was embarrassed, first of all,” he says, scrambling to find the right words. “You weren’t a mistake, I swear. The opposite, actually. We weren’t officially together and I didn’t…” He buries his face in his hands, feeling the tips of his ears turning pink.
Hongjoong feels a hand come up and rub the spot between his shoulder blades.
“I didn’t ask for consent.”
He hears Seonghwa snort. “I kissed you back, idiot.”
“Hey,” Hongjoong protests, finally lifting his head.
“So,” Seonghwa starts slowly, trying and failing to keep his smile at bay. “You still love me?”
Hongjoong sighs. “Unfortunately.”
“Are we friends again?”
“Also very unfortunate.” Seonghwa is grinning at him like an even bigger idiot, and he can’t help but match it with a smile of his own.
“I love you too, Kim Hongjoong.”
“We have to start slow,” Hongjoong warns as they’re leaving the warmth of the café. The sun shines brightly, but does little to stop the cold winds biting at his face. “I love you but I’m learning to trust you again.”
“Sure, Joongie. We can do whatever you want,” Seonghwa says easily.
***
Hongjoong swears he has never heard Wooyoung screech like that before when he sits next to Seonghwa at their next group dinner. San is trying to get the term “family dinner” rolling, but it hasn’t caught on yet. He and Seonghwa haven’t exactly defined the terms of their relationship yet, but they quickly returned to their easygoing push-and-pull friendship from before, just with more secretive smiles and soft touches sprinkled in.
“Mom and dad are back together,” Yunho remarks. San nods in appreciation, hand still over Wooyoung’s mouth.
“Took you guys long enough,” Jongho scoffs, which earns him an elbow to the shoulder from Yeosang.
“We’re just friends,” Hongjoong explains.
“For now!” Seonghwa adds cheerily, avoiding Hongjoong’s glare. “Let’s eat!”
They dodge questions from the others (mostly Wooyoung) throughout dinner. On their way to the bus stop, they walk hand in hand. This is nice, Hongjoong muses. We were missing out all these years.
Hongjoong’s stop is first. As it approaches, he hears Seonghwa clear his throat. “Hongjoongie?”
“Mmm?”
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hongjoong’s heart flutters in his ribcage.
“Yes, of course,” he hopes he doesn’t sound too excited.
“How’s Saturday? My place at seven?”
“Okay. It’s a date,” Hongjoong’s smile feels too big for his face, but it’s all he can do to keep himself from screaming like Mingi does when he’s excited. Seonghwa squeezes his hand gently.
“It’s a date.”
Hongjoong floats the rest of the way to his apartment.
***
Saturday takes forever to arrive. Hongjoong picks his outfit the night before, a cozy knit sweater over a white turtleneck paired with ripped jeans and chunky boots. His ears are lined with shiny studs. The dangly stuff kept getting caught in his sweater. At six fifty-eight sharp, he knocks on the door.
Seonghwa is stunning, as usual. Hongjoong resists the urge to run his hands down his soft pink cardigan, mainly because his hands are full of flowers. “These are for you.”
“Oh, these are lovely, Hongjoongie. Thank you!” Seonghwa accepts, lighting up at the gift.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry,” he says, opening the door wider with a blush matching his sweater.
Seonghwa heads toward the kitchen to re-home his flowers. Hongjoong finally gets his boots off and has just set his bag by the door when he feels strong arms wrap around his middle.
“Would you like a tour? Dinner’s almost ready.” Hongjoong nods, so Seonghwa takes his hand and brings him around. The place is spotless as expected, but touches of Seonghwa are clearly evident throughout the place. A tiny model figurine sits half-assembled on his desk. The chrome silver pen sits in a jar with a collection of quills. The moss ball that Hongjoong had gotten a little wizard hat for floats in its aquarium on the console table in the hallway. A few thick astrology volumes are stacked neatly on the coffee table.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Seonghwa says, reaching toward a bookshelf. “I’ve been meaning to show you this.”
When Hongjoong turns to look, Seonghwa is holding the journal. The one he’d been studiously working in with his non-magical pen all those months ago. The journal he wasn’t allowed to see until it was finished. Hongjoong carefully takes the journal and flips to the first page.
For Hongjoong, my muse
It’s an amalgamation of fashion sketches and astrology, Seonghwa’s first love. Each outfit is drawn in detail and has its own meaning and story behind it. Seonghwa is a talented artist.
“It’s for when you repurpose clothing,” Seonghwa says softly. “Or eventually make it.”
Hongjoong clutches the journal tightly. He’s speechless. Seonghwa must have spent hours and hours sketching, by hand no less.
“Thank you,” Hongjoong says, swallowing the lump in his throat. “It’s beautiful. This is the best thing I’ve ever been given.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Seonghwa says. “I hope it’s useful.” Hongjoong can only nod, afraid he’d burst into tears. He noticed an outfit, all black lines with pockets of see-through fabric and bold silver accessories, he’d more than love to see on Seonghwa. He’s suddenly filled with determination to make that happen.
Hongjoong is ushered back to sit at the table and steaming bowls land in front of him. “You made all of this?” he asks, eyeing some expensive cuts of meat.
“I bought dessert, don’t worry,” Seonghwa says good naturedly.
Dinner is delicious. Hongjoong doesn’t hold back on compliments. It feels relieving to be able to express his thoughts and let years of repressed feelings out. And, as an unexpected bonus, Seonghwa’s blush seems to have become a permanent part of him.
“Okay,” Hongjoong says finally, not able to have another bite. “I’d like a tour of your room now.”
He isn’t exactly sure what he pictured when he asked to see Seonghwa’s bedroom, but they somehow ended up snuggled together on the bed. Seonghwa is projecting constellations with his wand on the ceiling, and talking about the research he’s doing for work. Hongjoong hangs on to every word, not understanding half of it because he was always asleep during astrology class. Hongjoong relaxes into Seonghwa’s chest as they sit comfortably together, watching the stars float by.
“Hwa,” Hongjoong says.
“Hmm?”
“You’re my North Star,” he says finally. It sounded better in my head, Hongjoong cringes.
“What?” Seonghwa looks confused, turning to face Hongjoong.
“You’re my North Star,” he repeats. “You’re my home. Whenever I’m lost, I can come back to you at the end of the day.”
“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa says, beaming. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Hongjoong smiles. “You’re it for me, Park Seonghwa. I’ll never stop looking for you.”
“That’s also the corniest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he says happily. Hongjoong takes a weak shot at his bicep.
“I’m glad your love potion worked, even though my ass was bruised for days.”
“It didn’t work,” Hongjoong protests. “It just accelerated the process.”
“Same difference.” Hongjoong pouts, letting his prickly side show briefly.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, my star.”