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“I’m liking the new look, hyung.”
Hansol wishes the earth would open up a black hole so it could swallow him right now. Or maybe an UFO that would shine its light on him and suck him up before he let the aliens kidnap him—anything to get him away from here so he doesn’t have to turn around and face Chan.
Which will be weird, because if we backtrack a little bit, the story goes like this: Hansol is close friends with Mingyu and Seungkwan because they’re in the same major and attend almost every class together. Unlike Hansol who is quite content with his small circle of friends, Mingyu and Seungkwan would have friends greeting them left and right every five steps they take. So, when Mingyu and Seungkwan merged their circle of friends with this one group that consists of Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Chan, then Hansol just sort of accepted them altogether in his life.
It all went well, it really did. Aside from developing an embarrassing crush on Chan who always appears so brightly and confident and lovely that Hansol was one step away from passing out whenever Chan is around (and he’s around quite a lot, laughs at every joke and clumsy doing that Hansol did quite a lot, smiles and bats his eyelashes at Hansol quite a lot, and Hansol finds him quite a lot to be around with, though he can’t and won’t lie that he likes the fact that Chan is around him quite a lot a lot), Hansol gets along well with Soonyoung and Seokmin as well.
So, what gives?
What gives is that, two days ago, when the whole group decided to go out for drinks since their exam season was over, Chan was wearing a crop top that displayed his toned stomach and Hansol, drunk and out of his mind, blurted out a confession of how good he looks tonight and basically every other day and is there even a day where you don’t look good, Chan?, of how much he likes and adores and admires him, of how he so badly wants to date him but Chan is like way up there and Hansol is way down there, of how he’s pretty much a loser and he’s worried that Chan wouldn’t like to be with a just-some-guy like him, of how he wants to kiss Chan so much but is afraid to ruin this so good of a friendship they’re having, which is a little bit too late, considering he had blurted that out before he passed out on the couch right next to Soonyoung who heard all that.
“I freaked out, I needed to get out of here but obviously I can’t since I haven’t even graduate, so I might just fucking change my identity,” was what Hansol said after he bought two boxes of bleach and dropped them on Mingyu’s lap. “You need to help me.”
With his eyebrows furrowed, Mingyu lifted up a box of bleach to the air and snorted, “You do know bleaching your hair will just change the color of your hair, right? Like it’s not going to magically turn you into someone named Zach?”
After another string of pleas and whines, Mingyu finally did help him bleach his hair. It hurted like hell, his scalp felt like it was on fire, but Hansol hoped it was worth the try—Hansol hoped his impulsivity wouldn’t fail him.
But, of course, two boxes of bleach didn’t do much and now he’s stuck with dirty blonde colored hair. And two boxes of bleach didn’t do much either, for Chan still recognizes him the second he bumps into him in the hallway.
“It’s, uh, it’s just my hair,” Hansol mumbles, shrugging his shoulders stiffly. “That’s changed. I’m pretty much still the same. From how I dress and all.” Good God, do you ever stop talking?
“You’re right,” Chan smiles, and his hair bounces cutely when he eagerly nods. “Let me do it again, then. I’m liking your new hair, hyung,” he emphasizes with a huge grin.
“Thanks—”
“Oh, hyung,” Chan says once he places the palm of his hand on Hansol’s head, then takes a handful of his dirty blonde locks to feel it even further. “Your hair’s dry.”
Here’s the thing, Hansol can never be normal whenever it comes to Chan being physical with him. Well, with everyone, basically. He’s just a sweet, sweet cuddlebug who likes to glomp and cling to his friends, and Hansol obviously can’t live with the fact that Chan is comfortable enough with him to be able to hold hands and to cup cheeks and to caress as well.
Also, here’s the thing; does Chan not remember anything from the other night at all?
“But, worry not!” He chirps again when Hansol doesn’t say anything. He pats Hansol’s head softly before pulling his hand back to his side. “Bleachings do that, and I have just the perfect solution to that.”
“That being…?”
“I fooled around with hair dyes a few months ago, right,” he begins, and Hansol just nods and listens anyway without having the effort to push away these mental images of Chan with his lemon blonde hair and of Chan with his red hair that soon faded into pink that pops up in his head. “And my hair had gotten pretty dry from all the chemicals, but I found a hair mask that makes my hair smooth again. I’ve been using it until now.”
“Cool,” Hansol responds, pressing his lips into a thin line because the conversation will probably be over soon and he doesn’t want to imagine the wailing and the moaning he’s going to do in his room as a form of self-pity. “What’s the name of this hair mask, then? So I can look it up when I’m grocery shopping.”
“Oh, um,” Chan suddenly looks flustered and Hansol scrambles to replay his memory a second ago so he can figure out why or did I say something wrong?, only to have him saying, “I actually have it sitting in my dorm right now. And, uh, you can try it. If you want to.”
Hansol once again wishes the earth will swallow him up right now. Because, how can he turn the offer down when Chan is asking him so politely, looking up at him with his big doe eyes filled with expectation?
“It’s not like you haven’t crashed into my room for a shower, anyway.”
Alright. Fine.
Let’s just jump the gun and pretend everything is normal since Chan doesn’t seem to remember anything, then!
If you tell yesterday’s Hansol that he’s going to end up at his crush’s bathroom, sitting on a stool while he’s getting his hair shampooed, he’s most likely going to laugh at you because there is no way on earth that that’s going to happen, especially with the whole drunk-confessing thing that had happened.
But the world does work in a mysterious way, does it not?
Because right now, sitting on a stool in Chan’s bathroom with both of his hands perched on his own thighs, Hansol lets Chan wash his hair. Sometimes he will shiver when a trickle of cold water runs down his back (since he’s shirtless, but Chan gives him the liberty to keep his pants on) and Chan will laugh, dabbing the droplet of water away with his hand and now Hansol will have to hold himself from shivering because of the warmth that lingers.
“You don’t have to do this,” Hansol mumbles when Chan is still applying the shampoo thoroughly on his hair. “I mean, um, it’s really nice of you. Thanks. But, like, I guess most people would just tell me the name of the brand and call it a day.”
“I know you, hyung,” Chan says, his small, delicate fingers still combing through Hansol’s shampooed hair. “It’s going to be useless if I tell you the name of the brand because you’re going to forget it as soon as you get back. And even if you do remember the name of it, you’ll probably forget to actually buy it when you’re grocery shopping.”
“Huh,” he chuckles, tilting his head as if he’s taking in the recollection of his own habit that Chan just said. “I didn’t notice.”
“Well, I do,” Chan clicks his tongue, stepping away from Hansol to grab the shower head. “It’s happened so many times I started to get annoyed with you.”
“Oh,” Hansol feels like his heart has dropped straight to his ass, because apparently this isn’t a funny ha-ha topic to Chan. “Um, sorry.”
Chan doesn’t answer, but he gently grabs Hansol by the shoulder and pulls him closer. “Hold your position, okay? I’m going to rinse your hair.”
So, hold still he does. Using the hands on his own thighs as a leverage to keep him in that position, Hansol closes his eyes when the water starts running down. Amidst the sound of trickling water close to his ears, Hansol can still hear Chan mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ whenever he feels a few droplets of water succeed on escaping down his spine. He too tries so hard not to flush when he feels Chan’s palm on his nape, preventing any droplet of water from trickling down through the back.
Soon enough the shower head stops raining water on him and Chan puts it back to where it should be. He reaches for a towel and dries Hansol’s hair with it, ruffling his wet hair as if he’s a dog.
“We let it dry for a bit,” Chan says, not even flinching a little when Hansol accidentally puts his hands on top of his, since he’s about to dry his own hair himself using the towel. Chan doesn’t let go, instead he just continues. “And then we apply the hair mask.”
“Okay,” Hansol replies, voice a bit muffled.
“Sometimes I think you just take me lightly, you know?” Chan lifts the towel up a bit to reveal Hansol’s face that is now looking up at him through his eyelashes. “Because of all the taking my recommendations but not doing anything about it.”
“Oh, shit,” Hansol’s hand that was on his head just flops down to his side. “I swear it’s not like that, I’m just—I just forgot. I do that all the time and that’s still a shitty excuse even if it’s not one. I’m so, so sorry—I didn’t know I made you feel that way, Chan.”
“I know you didn’t mean that, hyung,” much to his surprise, Chan laughs heartily. He then steps closer to Hansol again before finally applying the hair mask on his hair, before finally saying the punchline that almost got Hansol falling from his seat, “Because imagine how baffled I was when you drunk-confessed to having a crush on me!”
“Wait, what the hell?” Hansol pulls away slightly and holds Chan by the wrist. “You remember that?”
What greets him is a huge, adorable grin from Chan. “Of course I do, silly. Who on earth would forget such an emotional outburst like that in the middle of a club before you passed out?” He runs his fingers through Hansol’s hair again. “I know the crop top must’ve done it for you.”
“So, you—” Hansol recoils again from the overwhelming proximity and fact that Chan remembers, knows that he has a crush on him. “You’re okay with that? This whole having a crush on you thing?”
Chan shrugs and tries to bring back Hansol closer to him by the head gently. The hair mask has now coated his hair thoroughly, but he decides to have some fun with him first. “Is it still a crush if you’re planning to date me? I feel like the word ‘crush’ is something a highschooler would use.”
“Would yearn and pine be the right words for me to use?” Hansol scrunches his nose when he feels a droplet of water trickling down the side of his face, and he’s lucky Chan notices it because he brushes the water aside before—oh, oh—cupping his face with both of his small hands.
“I think they suffice,” Chan chuckles. He can feel his own face reddening when he feels the warmth of Hansol’s palms on his waist, pulling him even closer to him.
“Great, because I too have been yearning to put my hands on your waist,” he sighs in relief, his smile blooming into a huge grin as he looks up, “Can I kiss you now?”
“That was so cheesy,” he jokingly shivers before placing himself on Hansol’s vacant lap, his slippery hands from all the hair mask liquid perched on the older’s shoulder, but none of them pay attention. “And we only got like three minutes before we have to rinse your hair, so. Okay. You can kiss me now.”
And kiss him he does. Hansol kisses him like he’s taking his time, ever so slowly and gently, switching between his upper and lower lip once in a while—and Chan kisses him like he’s drowning, like there’s no tomorrow, but at the same time kind of like he does want to savor each second and to not rush. It’s overwhelming, it happens so fast with their hands that just keep on grasping each other as an anchor. And they kiss like they forgot they put themselves on a time limit, until Chan pulls away.
“We have to rinse your hair,” he says, not quite pulling away since Hansol’s hand is on his back, keeping him in his place, lips ghosting over each others’ as he speaks. “Come on, hyung. Need to rinse your hair.”
“You know, I’m starting to forget that you’re actually trying to sell this brand to me,” Hansol smiles, leaving another kiss on Chan’s lips before he lets him out of his hold. “And washing my hair. How fucking domestic is that?”
“I kind of miss the few minutes ago you who was too scared shitless to say anything, let alone cracking a joke like this,” Chan stands up from his lap and grabs the shower head again, tilting Hansol’s chin so he can presses a kiss on his forehead before he tells him to duck again, and turning on the shower. “Okay, close your eyes again now. This is where the magic happens.”
Hansol knows that the magic Chan means is the hair mask, how it really does make his hair feel smooth and soft (Chan keeps on hugging him, along with ruffling and kissing his hair from how good it smells, and isn’t letting him go anytime soon when Hansol says he has to go back because there will be a morning class and he can’t be late, and that he promises Chan he’ll see him again tomorrow), but all that Hansol can think of is how the magic does happen whenever Chan smiles or whenever Chan pulls him gently into a kiss, meeting his lips in the middle.
So, it’s understandable how Mingyu thinks Hansol was joking when he comes home (“Are you drunk again?”), all smiling from ear to ear with his hair damp, and tells him, “My hair is soft now. My cute boyfriend Chan applied some hair mask to it.”