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Junhui is the last of them to return from their visits to their families, a week long vacation of sorts during the lunar new year festivities.
A week too long.
Wonwoo doesn’t wring his hands like an anxious beau waiting for their beau to return home from the warfront. He’s not a blushing bride, and Junhui’s not fighting for his life, so there’s no reason for him to stand at the doorstep frantically waving a handkerchief in the air. Since he’s a calm, rational, well-adjusted human being, Wonwoo stands inside the kitchen and maintains his self composure by flicking his hair to the side every single time he breathes.
“Aww, you miss your boyfriend,” says Soonyoung.
“…” says Wonwoo, and then he punches Soonyoung in the stomach. Gently, not because Wonwoo’s weak, but because Soonyoung’s a coward who runs away.
All the fuss messes up his hair again and he runs his fingers along the ends, just above his eyebrows, to fix what won’t stay still.
“You’re doing a very good impression of Heechul-sunbaenim.” Seungkwan plucks the apple that Mingyu’s just peeled out of his hands and chomps down. He receives a hip check for his trouble and, retaliates by maturely sticking out his tongue. “In that Close Ur Mouth MV, do you remember? He adjusted his fringe 14 times,” Seungkwan says, because he’s counted. Everybody counted. Mingyu gapes while Seungkwan waves goodbye with an open mouthed smile, showing off all the half-chewed food in his mouth.
By the time Mingyu’s closed his own mouth, Wonwoo’s become too self-conscious to move, so he holds his own elbows tightly and stares intently at the ground.
“They’re right, you know,” Mingyu says, like he doesn’t know Wonwoo’s patently aware of what he must look like right now.
Wonwoo flips him the bird with both hands and storms off to pace the living room, where Jisoo lets him wear circles into the floorboards in peace. Well, if you ignore the look he’s giving him. But that also might have been for Wonwoo humming the M&D song while Jisoo was attempting to read.
There’s a brief moment when the sound of the door opening jolts all of Wonwoo’s senses. He lifts his head, eyes becoming the size of saucers while the rest of his body stiffens.
“I’m back!” It’s Junhui’s voice, and then it’s Junhui’s long legs with bare ankles, it’s Junhui’s large hands and broad shoulders, it’s Junhui’s strong jaw and blond hair and it’s Junhui, it’s Junhui, it’s Junhui.
Wonwoo plays whack-a-mole with the part of him that’s cheering, the part of him that wants to run at Junhui, and the part of him that wants to fling his arms around him. Everyone stand back, Jeon Wonwoo’s taking a hammer to his own head.
“Oh, you’re here!” Seungcheol claps Junhui on the back with bleary eyes and Soonyoung does this strange patting thing to Junhui’s cheek. Seungkwan and Mingyu pop their heads out and Jisoo gives a little wave from the couch, Hansol goes in for a hug and Minghao a flick on the forehead. It’s only after the activity dies down that Junhui does that thing with his eyes where he’s trying to figure something out while scanning his vicinity, and that searching look is so achingly familiar Wonwoo wants nothing more than to touch.
It feels like it takes years for Junhui to finally look at Wonwoo, but when he finds him his entire face changes, from vaguely satisfied that he’s back at the dorm with the others to a look of real contentment, smile soft but wide, eyes crinkled at the corners. Whether it’s the transformation of his expression or the obvious fondness upon close scrutiny, something about it floors Wonwoo. Figuratively, he becomes splayed out on his back, knees unable to support both the weight of his body and the weight of that look. He has to avert his eyes, he feels naked with all his emotions laid bare, and also he hasn’t taken a breath since they began making eye contact.
Junhui appears beside him while he’s looking away, and stands close but not so close that they’re touching. “Hi,” says Junhui, quiet and not-quite-shy.
Wonwoo frowns. “Is that all you have to say?”
Junhui laughs.
Was something Wonwoo said funny? Uh, no. Junhui rolls his suitcase into the room with the closet, turning his back on Wonwoo like Wonwoo’s going to follow him for some reason. As if.
Wonwoo follows him. It’s all Junhui’s fault that he’s this flustered.
“The flight went smoothly, I had a very nice time in China, my family’s doing very well, thank you for asking,” Junhui says, kneeling to unzip his suitcase and lifting out a stack of neatly folded clothes.
“I wasn’t wondering,” Wonwoo tells him, standing with his hands hanging clenched tightly at his sides.
“I know,” Junhui says lightly, closing his eyes to nod emphatically. It doesn’t take him that long to unpack, even if Wonwoo doesn’t ask if he needs any help.
Junhui sets his toiletries aside, closes the door, and deposits himself on the floor, sitting with legs crossed and back slightly hunched over. Wonwoo sits too, but it’s because he’s tired of standing and not for any other reason.
“Doing gatherings and extended family dinners might be more tiring than preparing for a comeback.” Junhui heaves a large sigh, like he’s suffered some great tragedy. “I didn’t get a chance to do anything else I wanted.”
“I’ll be sure to let Jihoon and Soonyoung know you don’t think they’re working us hard enough when we have to record and choreograph at the same time,” Wonwoo says glibly. He scoots closer for warmth purposes.
“Thanks,” Junhui replies dryly. He doesn’t comment on the fact that they’re basically shoulder to shoulder now.
“You’re welcome,” Wonwoo says sweetly.
“Anyway, Yangyang’s become a terror,” Junhui says, while Wonwoo vacillates between leaning his head on Junhui’s shoulder and maintaining bodily independence. “Unsurprisingly, being in a Stephen Chow movie has opened his eyes.”
“Huh.” Screw it, being your own person is overrated. Wonwoo very carefully lowers his head. If the pressure change is slow enough maybe Junhui won’t even notice.
Junhui tilts his head sideways so he can lean back against Wonwoo and closes his eyes. Damn it, he noticed. “He’s cottoned onto the fact that he’s cute and it makes people want to do things for him. He asked for six glasses of watermelon juice one night. Six! And then wondered why he needed to pee so badly in the car on the way home.”
Wonwoo snorts and wiggles his head. Since he’s been found out, he might as well hunt for the comfiest position, tucked up against Junhui’s neck, head rested against a firm, reliable, shoulder. “Did he pee on you?”
Junhui wraps an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder and squeezes around his deltoid. “Why is that the first question you think of? Never mind, I don’t want to know. He managed to hold it until we got home.”
“Then that’s nothing. Our Bohyuk’s got himself a girlfriend.” Wonwoo tucks his knees in toward his chest and wraps his right pinky finger around the hem of Junhui’s sweater.
Junhui snickers. “He’s about the right age to start settling down.”
Wonwoo makes a face. “He thinks he’s got game, or something.”
“Nothing compared to his older brother who has hoards of screaming fangirls ready to cater to his every whim, right?”
“Stop,” Wonwoo warns, sitting up and smacking into Junhui’s cheekbone.
“Sorry,” Junhui says immediately, more automatic than a wince for the pain. “I’m not even surprised though.”
“Why not?” Wonwoo crosses his arms, the scowl on his face deepening.
Junhui lifts a hand to rest his chin on his knuckles. “Your hotness…is it any wonder that it’s at least slightly genetic?”
Wonwoo’s entire face heats up, and he slaps Junhui’s arm from his face. His hands are clammy, his heart rate accelerated, and it’s hard to breathe with the way his insides squirm. “I didn’t miss you,” Wonwoo says, “I didn’t miss you at all.”
Junhui looks at him. Looks at him some more. “I missed you too.”
Wonwoo doesn’t know how to physically make his mouth form the words he wants to say.
So he waits until Junhui’s hair is no longer blond and conspicuous, buys two tickets to ‘The Mermaid’ at the only movie theatre in Seoul that’s showing the stupid thing, and makes Junhui put on a facemask even though he hates wearing them. Junhui spends the entire journey there trying to take off his hood and Wonwoo spends the entire trip whispering furiously at Junhui while aggressively preventing the very thing from happening. It’s only when they’re nearly there that he wonders if it’s a horrible idea. Wonwoo’s not the kind of person to be affected by self-doubt, but he realizes Junhui hadn’t actually said that he didn’t get a chance to see Feng Jun’s movie, just that he didn’t get to do the things he wanted to while he was in Shenzhen, and Wonwoo’s brain had leapt through a series of hoops to arrive at a specific conclusion.
Junhui looks two seconds from crying when Wonwoo places the tickets into his hands and he gets a chance to read the words on the slips, which means Wonwoo wasn’t wrong. Not that he’s ever wrong.
“Shut up,” Wonwoo says, and lets Junhui squeeze his hand exactly once.
“It’s Feng Jun!” Junhui whisper-yells, clapping his hands together quietly in the nearly-empty theatre for the entire thirty seconds that his little brother is on screen, and Wonwoo pretends that the extra thick glasses they gave him don’t distort his face. He also erases the image of a fully grown man dressed up in a terrible mermaid costume from his mind.
Wonwoo hadn’t expected to pay money to get only a single scene of Junhui cooing, but the movie’s not atrocious.
The subtitles are. There’s an entire dick joke based off of the girl plucking feathers off of chickens as part of handling so that they can be fried which flies over Wonwoo’s head, and he has to elbow Junhui for a good minute before Junhui stops laughing long enough to explain why the other characters on screen look so affronted. Penis jokes are the lowest brow humour, in Wonwoo’s opinion, but he does laugh when the police officer draws a man’s legs with a fish tail for a head when the main character tries to describe what a mermaid looks like to him.
“Bullets don’t work like that underwater,” Wonwoo complains on the way back, “there’s no way there could have been so much bloodshed if they were that deep!”
He gets stopped as they’re toeing off their shoes in the hallway, and turns around with a glare. Junhui giggles. “Thanks.”
The entire trip is worth it for that utterance alone. “I distinctly remember telling you to shut up.”
Junhui wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s waist and Wonwoo presses his entire face into Junhui’s shoulder.
“I hate you,” Wonwoo mumbles, mostly incoherently.
“You’re my favourite too,” Junhui says.