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Legs crossed on the bed and heart to his throat, Hwanwoong stares intently at the paper gift bag in front of him—stares its carefully chosen blue bow that Dongju had helped him with, its silly little Santa Claus print—all carefully holding the softest blue scarf Hwanwoong had managed to find.
Today has to be the day. Today has to be perfect.
(“A gift,” Sitting on their shared bed, Dongju looks up at Hwanwoong through his eyelashes. “For when you confess?”
“Yes,” Hwanwoong purses his lips, tilts his head to the side slightly when Dongju pushes it gently. “I know it’s not—like—it’s not that I want him to feel like it’s a bribe , but if I’m doing it on Christmas, then—”
“Keonhee’s a sap,” Dongju’s hand lazily moves and to push Hwanwoong’s bangs away from his eyes. His gaze catching on Hwanwoong’s own for but a second before Hwanwoong looks away. “You confess on Christmas with a gift, and he’ll be over the moon.”
“You think I should go for it then?” Hwanwoong's voice comes out a bit too soft, too frail with fears almost drowning out the sounds in his breathing. Dongju moves his face a little closer, fingers pushing Hwanwoong’s jaw so they’re eye to eye better. Hwanwoong’s eyes fall closed.
“ Please go for it,” Tone masked with fake annoyance, Dongju leaves a quick peck to Hwanwoong’s lips and lets his hand tangle up in Hwanwoong’s hair. “Before I go crazy watching you dance around each other.”)
Hwanwoong breathes.
Christmas feels like it might be a little too complicated and loud to manage anything—between work events and their half-hearted party at Seoho’s newly acquired place—but Hwanwoong’s determined enough to make this happen.
The gift is in his bag and placed away from the joke gifts they’d gotten each other for their annual exchange, and his carefully rehearsed confession is looping in his overly anxious brain as he sits on Seoho’s couch with his legs on Geonhak’s lap—Keonhee was running a little late, and Dongju was trying not to kill Seoho in the kitchen.
(Wordlessly, Geonhak slips him a bag of fried shrimp snacks. Hwanwoong accepts it with confused hands.
“Shrimp?”
“You seem tense,” Geonhak says at the same time Dongju yells from the small kitchen— chaotic as usual, but nothing to worry about yet. “Thought it might help.”
Hwanwoong blinks, looks down at the open bag. “Do I?”
Geonhak doesn’t reply, only drops his hand on Hwanwoong’s leg—he gives it a little pat, a playful squeeze. “Keonhee’s not gonna eat you,” a pause, a scrunch of his nose. He gives Hwanwoong’s leg another pat, a bit stronger this time, and pairs his words with a smile. “Not for confessing to him, at least.”
“He’d eat me for something else?”
Geonhak laughs, reaches out to take a singular snack from the bag he’d just handed Hwanwoong—solidarity snack eating to ease Hwanwoong’s nerves.
Hwanwoong appreciates it.)
Unfortunately for Hwanwoong’s vague plans, as soon as Keonhee arrives, time starts flying and distractions are many— choosing movies to watch or music to play, sharing gifts that were awful and helpful alike, ordering way too much food they’d probably end up finishing anyway—the night goes by in the blink of an eye, and Hwanwoong’s thoughts disappear.
(He’s too focused on his ever growing fondness for his friends to think about the poor paper bag he’s still hiding; too focused on how to get a rise out of Geonhak, or on stopping Keonhee from kicking Seoho out of his own house, or on Dongju’s teeth on his neck while watching some terrible movie Keonhee had chosen ( just a bit, Dongju had said for way too long, all the while digging his teeth in for fun and making Geonhak threaten to kick them out of Seoho’s place.).
Even when the night turns quiet and everyone’s settled down, Hwanwoong still doesn’t think about it—about his confession or the blue scarf or anything at all—even when Dongju’s looking at him expectantly, trying to make an opening, craft a perfect moment for him.
(“Dongju said you wanted to talk?” Keonhee’s eyebrows furrow as he finishes buttoning up his coat, offers Hwanwoong somewhere to lean on as he finishes putting on his shoes. About to head out on a quick run to the closest convenience store and too sleepy to really remember why Dongju would be setting him up, Hwanwoong simply figures the others are worried about him heading out on his own. Probably true, but not quite completely—though he’d only realize this in retrospective.
He blinks up at Keonhee, neck hurting from the angle, and cocks his head to the side. Keonhee raises an eyebrow, stupidly handsome, and gives him a smile.
“Or… he was just worried you’d fall asleep while walking, huh,” Keonhee gives Hwanwoong a pat on the shoulder, lets his hand rest against the small of Hwanwoong’s back—Hwanwoong, of course, leans against it, happy to let Keonhee lead the way. “He’d kill you if anything happened to his favourite jacket,”
Hwanwoong laughs, the smell of Dongju’s cologne clinging to the purple jacket he had slipped on despite Dongju’s protests. Keonhee laughs, too, before gently nudging Hwanwoong out the door to start their walk, a fondness in his eyes that Hwanwoong often found himself daydreaming about.
How he always wished for that fondness to be only his—even if for a moment, a second—
Could he have it right now? But ah, he’s too sleepy to think, or plan, or remember. And so, the paper bag stays in its place, still inside Hwanwoong’s bag, hidden.
He just walks with Keonhee and mumbles responses fondly, cold biting into his face and making them pick up the pace. Keonhee holds onto him the whole way to the store and back.
Hwanwoong’s heart is full of affection, and yet his feelings stay close and hidden.
Nothing changes.)
Of course, Dongju greets them at the door as soon as they get back, an expectant look on his eyes that quickly dissipates when he notices they aren’t holding hands and the gift is still nowhere to be seen.
Dongju’s eyes stay glued on him, switching from something expectant to something strange—Hwanwoong catches it in the way Dongju approaches him, takes his hand a little too quickly, stays too close as they walk back in—
He doesn’t even take his jacket back from Hwanwoong, but Hwanwoong’s way too comfortable and happy to care.
Keonhee talks their ears off about something or other as they walk into the kitchen with bags of snacks and drinks to finish off the night, comments on the perfect ways to cook the instant noodles they’d gotten, asks if Geonhak or Seoho would like some as well.
(It isn’t until they get home and Hwanwoong opens his bag to find the gift still there that he realizes he forgot.)
Today was not, in fact, the day.
--
The gift stays in Hwanwoong’s bag after that—a reminder and an opportunity that he could take at any moment. The paper bag’s crumpled, but the gift inside is still intact: a pretty blue scarf that Seoho had helped him choose for Keonhee.
December ends and gives way to January, and Hwanwoong’s still holding onto the gift.
(“You’ll see him on my birthday, no?” Dongju talks with his chin resting on Hwanwoong’s shoulder, Hwanwoong comfortably fitting on his lap with his back to Dongju’s chest. “That’s a special enough occasion.”
Hwanwoong frowns, sneaks a hand free of Dongju’s hold to pinch at Dongju’s leg—Dongju yelps. Hwanwoong soothes with the tips of his fingers over Dongju’s pant leg as he talks. “It’s an occasion for you, not for me—or Keonhee, for that matter.”
“It’d be a nice gift if you were happy on my birthday, though.” And though Hwanwoong can’t see the pout on Dongju’s lips from his position, he can hear it in his voice—can picture it perfectly in his mind. He sighs, and Dongju makes a little noise in response—a question and complaint in a high-pitched little thing.
“Dongju,” Hwanwoong turns around slightly, just enough to get a glimpse of Dongju’s face. “You don’t have to share your birthday for this,”
“I share it already,” Dongju leans back slightly, makes it easier for Hwanwoong to move.
“With someone other than your brother,” Hwanwoong arranges himself with a laugh and another slight turn—doesn’t give up his spot on Dongju’s lap, but now opts for sitting sideways instead. He gives Dongju a smile. “What’ll you do if every year you have to share it with a dating anniversary, hm? Or with a heartbreak—”
“No heartbreak,” Dongju pokes him on the side, then slumps forward in defeat—though, Hwanwoong’s sure he never quite wanted to win this. “And no…sharing,” he frowns, bites at his bottom lip. “It can keep being just my day”
Hwanwoong pulls him down then to lie down on the bed together—they land awkward and loud and a little too uncomfortable, but Hwanwoong ignores it all in favour of taking Dongju’s lips.
If Hwanwoong fucked up, he was sure as hell not going to do it on Dongju’s birthday—much more than heartbreak, he’d hate to ruin the day for him.
And so, Dongju’s birthday is out of the question together with all the days leading up to it—just in case, Hwanwoong says—because you’re a coward, Dongju argues—
And maybe he is a little right.)
With Dongju’s birthday passed and celebrated, the rest of January goes on. Time continues to pass them all by, and Hwanwoong still can’t find a date that feels right— The Christmas plan had just been so perfect, why’d he have to go and forget?
(“I can help set you up,” Seoho comments offhandedly one day, when Hwanwoong’s lying down on his couch and staring at the ceiling in overdramatic despair. Seoho’s sitting right next to him, Hwanwoong’s messy hair grazing against his pants.
“With Keonhee?” Hwanwoong blinks, cranes his neck to try and look at Seoho’s face better. “Why?”
“What do you mean why,” Seoho laughs, drops one of his hands to run through Hwanwoong’s hair. “We’re friends, Woong,”
Hwanwoong pouts, leans into Seoho’s touch even so—lets himself relax and his eyes fall closed. “Am I that pitiful?”
“No,” A little exasperated, but mostly fond, Seoho replies together with a tug at Hwanwoong’s hair. “It’s not that, man,” a little sigh, a short laugh as he taps on Hwanwoong’s forehead. “We all just want you to be happy, yeah? And you’ve been making yourself mopey with this,”
Hwanwoong frowns—damn, had it been that bad?
“Plus,” Seoho sighs again, louder, a bit playful—oh, he’s about to mention— “Dongju’s been suffering about all this, too,” there it is. “I think Geonhak’s about to lose it a little,”
“He always is.” Hwanwoong lets his eyes open, meets Seoho’s gaze. A second or two—Hwanwoong bites the inside of his cheek. “Will you come with me, though?”
“To confess?” Seoho quirks an eyebrow up, drops his hand on the couch. “Wouldn’t that kill the mood?”
“I need moral support.”
Seoho laughs at that, ruffles Hwanwoong’s hair. “I’ll think about it.”)
Seoho ends up planning a five person meetup for him—something in Hwanwoong feels it a bit suspicious, considering Seoho never plans anything, and Dongju never lets Seoho try to be in charge of anything—but it’s all overridden by the thought of the soft blue scarf inside that crumpled bag that Hwanwoong’s been carrying for almost a month now, the thought of Keonhee’s expression or thoughts when he gets it, how Hwanwoong’s going to get anything done even if he has moral support.
He’s supposed to go with Dongju to meet up with Seoho and Geonhak that day, and then they’d go meet up with Keonhee for lunch or dinner depending on the time. Maybe Hwanwoong can get himself some time with Keonhee right after lunch, a little walk to get dessert in another place close-by—maybe a walk to get everyone drinks that turns into a confession.
And then the five person meetup turns into a two person meetup.
(First: Dongju suddenly has something to do that day, something he definitely definitely can’t wiggle out from. He says sorry and kisses Hwanwoong to give him good luck and some courage.
Second: Seoho calls when Hwanwoong’s almost at Geonhak’s studio, says he suddenly has something that came up that he definitely definitely can’t wiggle out from. He says sorry and tells Hwanwoong that Geonhak’s waiting for him, still, and that they can both go meet up with Keonhee. He wishes Hwanwoong good luck before hanging up.
Suspicion rises back up in Hwanwoong’s brain— something is going on. Dongju and Seoho are plotting against him. Is Geonhak plotting against him? Surely not, right?
He makes it to Geonhak’s studio, they both leave together and chat as they walk to Keonhee’s workplace—and then Hwanwoong remembers how close it is to Geonhak’s gym, and he suddenly realizes why they chose to meet here, despite Geonhak’s studio being a better middle point.
Third: Geonhak fucks off to the gym.
Great. )
“I guess the food will be cheaper since it’s just us two,” Hwanwoong gives Keonhee an awkward smile, feels the weight of the gift still in his bag as they walk across a park. “And at least we got to see Geonhak-hyung, I guess,”
Keonhee laughs, hands in his pockets to shield from the cold—Hwanwoong wishes he could hold them, but to know if he can do that, he must first give the gift and confession— “It works out, though, no?” Keonhee stops somewhere by a bench, eyes focused up on the clouds before they fall down on Hwanwoong.
“Because of the cheaper…food, or?” Hwanwoong stops next to him, makes eye contact with a tilt of his head to the side.
“Well, that too, but,” As laid back as he’s trying to seem, Keonhee’s eyes flicker to the side in a nervous motion, hands hiding deeper in his pockets as he seems to try and find his words. He purses his lips—a thin line for a second before he relaxes. “Seoho-hyung told me you’d been meaning to tell me something,” he smiles softly, tilts his head to the side opposite of where Hwanwoong had.
Hwanwoong’s brain all but short-circuits—Seoho had what?
“Oh,” he says in lieu of… anything else, gift weighing down on his back even more as he looks up at Keonhee. “Did he?”
“Yes,” the corners of Keonhee’s lips curl up into a smile, held back laughter that Hwanwoong wants to kiss. There’s something careful in the way he watches Hwanwoong, something almost expecting. “So?”
“So,” Hwanwoong’s throat feels dry with the cold that envelops them—it dusts Keonhee’s cheeks slightly pink. Hwanwoong wonders if this is a good time, a good idea—Hwanwoong wonders if he should bring up an excuse, if he should lie, if he should say a half-truth—
Sundown paints the park around them with gold and soft pastels—golden glow to softened edges, to what’s left of prior snowfall—golden glow to Keonhee’s hair that’s swept out of place by the wind, to his cheeks as he smiles so patiently—softly—
Hwanwoong shivers from the cold in his too-thin jacket and too-few layers—maybe it’d be better to do this indoors, but will he be able to keep this courage if he waits any more?
A strong gust of wind seems to hit Keonhee’s eyes—he closes them with a yelp, hand coming up to shield his face from biting cold. “Maybe we should head indoors?” Keonhee laughs as he blinks the sting away, focuses back on Hwanwoong. “Didn’t mean to rush—”
Hwanwoong breathes— the touch of cold feels like the final thing he needed to get himself together, get himself to move—He cuts Keonhee off with a noise.
Keonhee looks at him—no pressure, no judgement, no fear—just Keonhee’s gentle presence, Keonhee’s pretty eyes, Keonhee’s lips—
“I have a gift.” Hwanwoong says, ever so eloquent, and clumsily brings his backpack to the front. “It was—I meant to give it to you on Christmas, but—”
“Is that what you’ve been meaning to—wait, Christmas? It’s mid January,” Keonhee takes a step forward, shoulders drawn together slightly to trap in some warmth. His lips an amused curl as he looks at Hwanwoong’s nervous hands try to get the gift bag out in one piece. “You could’ve just given it to me the next day or something.”
“Well, yeah, but” Hwanwoong holds the crumpled paper bag out, weakly holds onto his backpack with his other hand. “It’s not just the—well—”
Keonhee takes the bag carefully, cold fingers brushing against Hwanwoong’s hand—had that been on purpose?
“Well, well?” Holding the bag close to his chest now, Keonhee asks with a little laugh. “Should I open this, or not yet?”
“I like you,” Hwanwoong blurts out instead of a reply, hands in the pockets of his jacket and his bag falling to the floor. “I guess that’s what—” He stops, clears his throat, looks at anywhere but Keonhee’s face. “what I’ve been meaning to tell you—the gift was—I was going to—” teeth to his bottom lip, hands gripping nothing but lint and forgotten plans, Hwanwoong lets his words run. He forgets to blink, to focus—his eyes hurt and his throat itches—
Keonhee cuts him off with a smile—there’s a teasing edge, but Hwanwoong can’t figure out what it means, what it leads to, what it—
“You’re my friend, of course I like you too,” Keonhee’s voice seems about to burst into something, but Hwanwoong’s brain still hasn’t caught up to reality enough to try and figure out where this is going.
“Not like—that’s not—” Hwanwoong’s voice pitches up, confused—but there’s no rejection in Keonhee’s voice, there’s no…contempt, or confusion, or fear—there’s just…
Hwanwoong’s brain gears finally seem to click—he stops with his lips parted and eyes wide.
“You,” he points an accusatory finger, “You’re in cahoots with them?”
Keonhee gives him a playful little smile, an innocent blink. “Not quite,” His free hand comes to rest on top of Hwanwoong’s dramatic accusatory one, his voice stays disarming and soft. “I wasn’t sure? And I didn’t join…whatever it was Seoho-hyung plotted for tonight.” He laughs, does a little shrug. “But I guess I just knew,”
Hwanwoong’s breath gets stuck in his throat—he wants to ask for an answer, but Keonhee’s hand is so warm and his voice is so dear—Hwanwoong’s too scared to shatter the moment, fall into a reality reflecting his fears. If Keonhee already knew, then—
“I was waiting for you to take the step, though,” Keonhee steps a little closer, nudges Hwanwoong’s hand to link their fingers together— “Since Dongju said you were planning to share… something important and all.”
“Oh my god.” Hwanwoong considers making Dongju sleep on the floor tonight. “Wait—so if Dongju hadn’t—”
“I would’ve probably taken the step myself,” Keonhee pouts in thought, leans down closer to Hwanwoong’s face. “But I decided to wait—because you’re cute with your feelings like this.”
Hwanwoong squeaks. He doesn’t know if he wants to kill his closest friends (lovingly) or thank them for this moment—maybe both.
“Can I finally kiss you know?” Keonhee’s cute pout so close, his voice a tickling whisper—
“Please do,” Hwanwoong breathes out, brings his free hand to Keonhee’s hair, “before I start thinking of ways to end everyone.”
“Please don’t,” tinted with laughter. Hwanwoong tries to think of a reply, but before he can say anything Keonhee’s finally finally kissing him—a soft touch of their lips at first, a lingering warmth when they part for a second for Keonhee to lean down a bit more—
Hwanwoong’s neck hurts, but he finds that doesn’t matter if he can kiss Keonhee again, if he can feel Keonhee’s touch, if he can say Keonhee’s his—
(Keonhee puts on the scarf as soon as they part, teary eyed as he always is when emotions run high. He kisses Hwanwoong again with a mess of emotions, and the thank you he whispers is taken for Hwanwoong to swallow.
Hwanwoong, of course, loves this part of him too.)