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Five years old.
Jeonghan is trying not to cry, because he’s a Big Boy now. He can tie his own laces, eat meals on his own, and even wash his own butt! But he’s really struggling to hold back tears – because he’s been looking at the bunny-topped cupcake since they opened the box, and the teacher had given it to another student.
It’s the annual Christmas party at the pre-school, and someone in Jeonghan’s class brought cupcakes for everyone to share. He peeked into the box before the teacher made them sit in their chairs, and he decided he really wanted the one with a bunny topper. The rest of the cupcakes were all perfectly cute, but he wanted the bunny.
He’s twisting his tiny fingers in his lap again and again, when someone taps his shoulder. His classmate, Seungcheol, is standing by his chair. Curious eyes, round cheeks, cherry red lips in a pout. What was he pouting about? Did he also not get the cupcake he wanted?
“You’re Jeonghan, right?”
“Yeah. And you’re Seungcheol?”
“Mhmm. Why do you look sad?” Seungcheol asks directly.
“Uhm. Well. I really wanted the bunny cupcake, but someone else got it. I know there are so many others, but I just… really wanted the bunny.” Jeonghan mumbles.
“The pink one?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. You can have it.” Seungcheol puts the bunny cupcake on top of Jeonghan’s tiny fists, and Jeonghan looks up in surprise.
“It’s with you?”
“Well, yeah, but you want the bunny. And it made you sad. So you take it. I’ll go ask for another one.” Seungcheol shrugs like it’s that simple to him. And it is, really, but little Jeonghan’s brain was gonna remember this gesture forever.
“Cool.” Jeonghan holds the bunny cupcake with two hands, tilting his head left and right as he smiles down at it. “Do you wanna come sit with me after you get another cupcake?”
Seungcheol’s cheeks dimple with the grin he shows. “Okay!” His face goes all serious suddenly (or as serious as a five year old can look) as he says, “Take care of bunny while I’m gone, okay?”
Jeonghan nods, equally serious. He cups it a little tighter.
Seungcheol pats Jeonghan’s head before he skips in their teacher’s direction, and Jeonghan decides they’re now best friends. For this week. He’ll see next week if he feels the same.
When he gets home, he tells his parents about the “very nice classmate” who gave up the bunny cupcake for him, just because he wanted it more. And the rest of the week, he comes home every day with a new story about his newest friend: Wednesday, it’s, “Cheollie brought an extra banana milk in his snack box for me.” Thursday, it’s, “Cheollie brought a pack of dinosaur stickers, and we both really liked the stegosaurus one but he let me have it.” Friday, it’s, “Someone in my class pushed me when we were in line for morning exercise, and Cheollie went up to him to tell him it’s bad to push people. He told me he would protect me all the time. Can I bring Cheollie a chocolate bar next week?” After a month of this, Jeonghan’s parents meet Seungcheol’s parents at the parent-teacher meeting, and they find out they live very close, so they arrange some weekend play dates.
Jeonghan talks about no one but Seungcheol, and does nothing without Seungcheol.
One day, he comes home from school and is visibly upset, so his parents ask him what’s wrong. Jeonghan tells them, “I don’t like Mina. I think she’s a bad girl.” He refuses to elaborate, and they ask him a few more times throughout the afternoon, and Jeonghan just keeps repeating that Mina is a “bad girl”.
While tucking him into bed, his mom tries asking one more time, and he finally says, in a small, frustrated voice, “Today Mina said she would marry Cheollie.” His mom patiently asks him, and why does saying that make her a bad girl, Hannie-yah? Jeonghan rolls his eyes – this is so obvious! – and says in a condescending tone unbefitting a five year-old, “Mom. Marrying is for adults only. When you’re married you – k-word, ” he says in an exaggerated whisper. “And that’s not for kids! Why is she saying such weird things? Cheollie would never marry her even when they’re adults . Because she’s a bad girl. And she hates dogs but Cheollie loves dogs. I like dogs. Cheollie said he only likes people who like dogs. She can’t become Cheollie’s favorite person. Never.”
His mom hides a laugh at her five year-old’s rant, and tries to follow his train of thought. When is it okay to get married then, Hannie? she asks, and Jeonghan makes a face at his mom like he can’t believe she has to ask. When you’re thirty, duh!
His mom giggles, saying, ah, of course, silly Mom for asking. She thinks he’ll be alright.
Jeonghan thinks he doesn’t wanna sit next to Mina tomorrow. Or ever. He tells Seungcheol the next day that he doesn’t want to sit next to Mina, and without asking why, Seungcheol pushes him into the seat next to Jisoo and then takes the one on his other side.
When Mina’s back is turned, Jeonghan sticks his tongue out in Mina’s direction.
At recess, Jeonghan is still thinking about being an adult, about marriage, and about Seungcheol. They’re sitting at the swing set, already done with their packed snack.
Would you marry me when we’re thirty, Cheollie? When we’re adults? I like dogs! All the kinds. Even if sometimes they don’t like me. Dunno why, but I’ll figure it out.
Okay, Hannie. I’ll marry you. When we’re adults.
Do you promise?
I promise!
Do you pinky promise?
Yeah, I pinky promise.
Even if dogs don’t always like me?
Hmm, maybe. But we don’t need to have a dog if they don’t like you.
𓅰
Eleven years old.
“ Ya, no fair, Yoon Jeonghan! That would’ve been a goal and you know it!” Seungcheol is whining, eyes all wide and mouth all pouty.
They’re taking turns kicking a soccer ball into a makeshift goal made of a mosquito net they fastened to the two trees in Seungcheol’s backyard. They’re wearing matching shirts – Messi uniforms that they each begged their parents to get them. Jeonghan was standing by the makeshift goal and saw Seungcheol aim for the corner near him, so he put his foot in the way.
He loved competition, and he loved teasing Seungcheol.
They stayed friends throughout the rest of pre-school and even going into elementary; how could they not? They were in the same grade level, lived down the street from each other, took the same bus to school, and even had the same extracurricular sports. On top of it all, they were equally matched at almost anything they did — academics, sports, kite-making, bug-catching, and whatever else.
“Well, no one knows now!” Jeonghan sing-songs, and Seungcheol frowns and pouts harder.
Jeonghan laughs at the look on Seungcheol’s face. “Oh, c’mon, Cheollie, we’re tied now. As usual. That’s enough. Now we can head inside because my show is coming up soon?”
Seungcheol is still frowning but he huffs and picks up their ball as Jeonghan starts to walk back towards the house. They toe their shoes off at the back door and make their way inside; Jeonghan to the living room to switch the TV on, Seungcheol to the kitchen to pour two glasses of grape juice from the fridge.
The ads are still running when he turns to his channel, so Jeonghan goes to Seungcheol in the kitchen. He reaches for his glass when he accidentally topples over a coffee cup left on the counter by one of Seungcheol’s parents. In his haste to try to stop the mug from falling, the coffee ends up spilling all over him… and his Messi uniform.
“Oh… my gosh.” Jeonghan is standing still in shock, his arms in the air. Oh, he’s soooo upset, and the worst part is he has no one to blame but himself. He knows coffee stains are one of the hardest kinds to get out, and he’s upset at the thought that they might never come out anymore. And this was his favorite shirt!
Seungcheol is quick to act. “Come on, let’s put that in a basin to soak it at once. I’ll get you a new shirt in the meantime.” Seungcheol pulls him to his bedroom’s en suite, herding him inside while pushing a new shirt into his hands. Jeonghan still hasn’t said anything and moves on autopilot. He’s really so sad about his shirt, and he’s trying very hard to be chill about it. He steps out of the bathroom with his stained shirt in hand, and Seungcheol is immediately there to grab it out of his hands and take it to the kitchen to soak.
They sit to watch the show, but Jeonghan can barely focus. He quietly sulks over his shirt, picking at his fingernails the whole time. He feels Seungcheol glance at him a few times, but his friend never says anything.
Two days later after school, when they get off the bus at their stop and before they walk in opposite directions to head home, Seungcheol hands Jeonghan a paper bag.
“The shirt,” is all Seungcheol says. Jeonghan is reminded again about his favorite shirt that is potentially ruined forever and just nods thanks.
When he gets home he carefully takes the shirt out of the bag and unfolds it, and – it’s spotless. He marvels at how amazing of a job Mrs. Choi did in cleaning it, until he notices the label by the collar. CSC is written at the back of the tag, just like on most of Seungcheol’s stuff.
The next day at school, Jeonghan tells Seungcheol about how Seungcheol had given him the wrong shirt; he left it at home but he could hand it over later when they do homework at Jeonghan’s place.
“Nope,” Seungcheol says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “I gave you mine on purpose. Mom couldn’t fully get out the stains ‘cause we didn’t soak it in bleach immediately, so I just gave you mine. I don’t really mind the stains.” He shrugs with his signature dimpled smile, before he’s asking Jeonghan to race him to the bus stop.
Seungcheol gets a bit of a head start as Jeonghan takes in what he just said, and thinks about how nice Seungcheol is, before he’s shooting off as well.
He knows he could catch up and beat Seungcheol (as he usually can), but he lets him win this one. As a way to say thanks, he tells himself. Seungcheol whoops and raises a fist in the air, before pointing at Jeonghan and smirking. Jeonghan just raises his eyebrow and doesn’t give him a reaction – which annoys Seungcheol, because what’s the point of rubbing his win in the loser’s face if the loser doesn’t care?
As they stand next to each other, grabbing the handles above them and watching the streets pass, Jeonghan thinks about his best friend’s easy kindness and how he now has a perfectly fine Messi shirt again – and he smiles a little to himself.
𓅬
Seventeen years old.
Jeonghan is watching his third movie of the day, and he’s thinking about what it would be like to live a romcom-esque teen life.
He’s thinking about the whole shebang, you know? Meeting someone somewhere cute and cliché – a bookstore? A cafe? Then maybe running into them a few more times until something changes and there’s conversation. Then all the texting while kicking his feet, lying in bed. Maybe a promposal. Maybe even DATE ME? spelled out in pepperonis on pizza, or written in icing on a homemade cake, or painted on a shirt underneath a jacket being zipped open, or scribbled on a sketchbook he’ll see out his window after pebbles have been thrown at it to get him to look outside. Jeonghan has seen the movies and the shows, and he wants it all.
And what he recently accepted about himself is that… he likes boys. Every romcom-esque scenario he dreams up always involves a cute boy. Soft, shaggy hair. Cute brown eyes. Charming, gentlemanly, sweet. Dimples, maybe.
Speaking of dimples –
“Cheollie. Stop ringing my home phone. You know no one else is gonna pick up right now and I’m busy,” he hisses into their landline receiver, picking up after the first ring because he knows exactly who’s on the other side of the line.
“Han-ah, c’mon,” a voice whines back, dragging the ‘o’ sound as long as he can. “You’re not busy, you’re rewatching High School Musical. I can hear Sharpay in the background.”
“And? This is busy. It’s Jeonghan Busy Time. It’s a weekend and we don’t have any kind of homework left over. So go find something else to do or someone else to –” Jeonghan doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he hears the dial tone. He scoffs.
He thinks (hopes, more like, because he knows better) Seungcheol has finally given up when — knock knock knock knock knock knock. Jeonghan groans and pauses the movie because someone he wants to strangle is incessantly knocking on his front door.
He roughly pulls the door open and is ready to yell, but Seungcheol is standing there with his fist still in the air and a big grin on his face. Dimples on full display.
“Can we please go to the bowling alley today? Please. You’ve been busy everyday after school with all your clubs and they have a new snack menu this week. Please, ” Seungcheol begs. Jeonghan is not budging, just standing there with his arms crossed. Seungcheol changes tactics and wipes the grin from his face and pulling out an even more effective weapon.
The seventeen year-old boy is in a full-blown pout . His already big eyes are even wider and pleading. He grabs Jeonghan by the shoulders and shakes him a little, and Jeonghan’s head lolls along. “Please, Jeonghanie, please. Just today, hang out with me. No one else plays well enough for it to be fun. Pleaaaaaase.”
Jeonghan won’t admit it but he felt a little dazed, like it’s hard to breathe, watching Seungcheol like this. He was being faced by the full force of a whining Seungcheol and it’s… well.
It’s horribly cute.
He’s not sure what it means, that he thinks that.
Two hours later, Seungcheol is whining and pouting again — this time at the bowling alley, demanding another rematch after losing to Jeonghan four times out of six. (He loses a fifth time but Jeonghan pays for the snack Seungcheol wants. The dimples make their appearance, and something in Jeonghan’s chest flutters.)
Jeonghan thinks Seungcheol was just going to walk him to his door, but he invites himself inside as always. He says hello to Jeonghan’s parents, and plops himself in front of the TV where Jeonghan was sitting before he was so rudely dragged outdoors. Seungcheol puts on the third High School Musical movie, which is Jeonghan’s favorite from the trilogy. He slides down till he’s slumped, his hoodie getting messed up and making it look like he’s drowning in it.
Jeonghan pauses at this sight. This is nothing new, and yet… and yet.
He sits beside him and puts his feet up on Seungcheol’s lap. The basketball opening scene starts playing and the thing is — Seungcheol can’t ever just watch a movie, so he immediately starts making comments.
“I could out-play and out-dance Troy Bolton. Like, it’s not even a competition.”
Jeonghan doesn’t even look at him and just hums in agreement. Seungcheol could do a mean dougie. And they’re both just naturally athletic.
Seungcheol continues. “Hey, also, I wouldn’t let someone I supposedly love choose between their dream school and me. Walk Away wouldn’t even be a song in my story. You know? Like Troy spent all that time promising her he loves her more than anything and then gives her a hard time about choosing her dream ? He sucks.”
Jeonghan looks at Seungcheol this time. He’s still slumped and drowning in his hoodie, but his thick eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks to be really upset at Troy Bolton’s stupidity that he’s — you guessed it — pouting.
“No, you’re right. But boys are dumb. High school boys especially. But he brings prom to her in the end. God, he’s so stupid but that’s really cute.” Jeonghan
Seungcheol rolls his eyes; he isn’t done with his little tirade against Troy and all his flaws, something about how Troy doesn’t even make an effort to know Gabriella, and his lips are now just in a fixed pout while his little monologue continues.
Jeonghan just smiles and turns back to the movie; and if he’s a little more endeared than usual with his best friend… well. How could he not be?
—
The next weekend, Seungcheol is knocking on Jeonghan’s front door again and says he knows it’s Jeonghan Busy Time, but can Jeonghan’s Best Friend be also busy with Jeonghan? He proceeds to hand over some newly released DVDs of romcoms and slice-of-lifes that he’d saved up to buy because he knew Jeonghan didn’t have them yet.
Jeonghan asks him — wait, didn’t you have that football game at the park today with Mingyu and the guys? but Seungcheol just shrugs and says this is where he’d rather be.
When they finish going through the stack, Seungcheol asks what Jeonghan thought about each of the movies he brought. Jeonghan makes a quick little ranking, explaining why he liked one better than the other. He sees Seungcheol nod to himself seriously, and Jeonghan shoves him a bit, laughing.
“What, are you keeping tabs?”
“Of course. What if one day you lose your memories and someone starts brainwashing you to stay away from me, and somehow I unlock your memories by telling you things about yourself that only I paid enough attention to?”
Jeonghan blinks. “Choi Seungcheol, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t call me that — and I’m serious, no one knows you like I do, Han-ah. Who else is taking all these notes?” He’s wide-eyed and poking his own temple repeatedly.
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “You’re acting like it’s a competition, and it’s not, by the way. Who would you even be competing against? My mother? Seungkwanie?”
Seungcheol’s brows furrow. “That’s not funny. First of all, Seungkwan? You’re hilarious.” Jeonghan tries to interrupt him by saying you wanna say that to Seungkwanie’s face? but Seungcheol just talks over him. “Second of all, your mom does not know about that entire month she paid for your fees but you kept sneaking out the window during afternoon tutorial school because you wanted—”
“ Okay you idiot, I get it, no one knows me like you do.” Jeonghan flicks Seungcheol’s forehead as hard as he can, and Seungcheol yelps but he wears a satisfied smile, all up until the time he’s waving goodbye.
(Jeonghan tucks every little weird feeling he’s been having around Seungcheol lately in a little box in his mind, and puts the box on his metaphorical back shelf.)
𓅭
Twenty-one years old.
“That’s the third can you’ve downed in ten minutes. Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to talk about something else, or… do you want me to just sit here quietly?”
Jeonghan drains the rest of the can. “Thanks for coming all the way here, Cheollie.”
They’re at a riverside park, sitting on the concrete steps that lead down into the grassy areas. Jeonghan usually prefers to sit on the grass, but it rained in the early afternoon and it was still wet.
Seungcheol hums in response. “Like there would ever be a doubt.”
He doesn’t say anything else, but Jeonghan hears what goes unsaid — a silent so why are we here drinking like we’re devastated on your birthday?
Another five minutes pass in silence, until Jeonghan finally breaks it, sighing. “He didn’t even remember.”
“Who? And what?”
“Hwan. He didn’t even remember it was my birthday today. He texted me once today to ask if I had accidentally packed in my bag his notes for chem because he couldn’t find them.” Jeonghan laughs hollowly. “I had to force myself to lock my phone and pocket it, because I would have either broken up with him right there over text, or flung my phone at a wall.”
Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just lets out a deep breath. Jeonghan glances at him, and notices his knuckles are white from how tightly he’s gripping his own beer can. His jaw is also clenched, and he’s not looking at Jeonghan, but from his side profile, Jeonghan knows Seungcheol is glaring into the distance.
“Hey,” Jeonghan says softly, putting a hand over Seungcheol’s clenched fist. “Hey, Cheollie, c’mon, look at me.”
Seungcheol’s grip loosens slightly, but he’s still not looking at Jeonghan.
“I know you wanna say something, so just say it.”
Seungcheol turns his way, and his face is so stormy. His brows are scrunched and his gaze is angry, but when his eyes meet Jeonghan’s, most of the rage melts away and is replaced by – sadness?
“Yoon Jeonghan. You deserve better than a worthless, irrelevant bastard who treats you like an afterthought,” he says in a low voice. “And you should have broken up with him over text. Honestly, he’s not even worth a text breakup. Just forget about him.”
Jeonghan looks down at his hand still covering Seungcheol’s, and one side of his mouth lifts in appreciation. “You’ve always been so protective of me, Cheol-ah. You know you can’t save me from everything, right?”
Seungcheol huffs. “Of course I know that. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying.”
“Maybe it’s me, you know? Maybe I’m the problem, and — shh, wait, listen — I’m the common denominator in all these failed relationships I’ve been having. Do you remember the last guy?”
“You mean the alcoholic?”
“He was not an alcoholic. But yeah,” Jeonghan snorts. “He did seem to spend more time in the club than anywhere else.”
“I don’t even think that guy remembered he was in a relationship at all. Wait, you know who was worse? Oh man,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes so hard they look like they’re gonna get permanently stuck at the back of his skull.
“Was it the one who kept giving me gifts of things he liked but I knew nothing about?” Jeonghan scrunches his nose, cringing at the memory of all those expensive golf trading cards, golf gloves, and that one 50 Best Golf Courses in the USA Scratch Off Poster (what the fuck), when Jeonghan didn’t know or care about golf at all.
“Yes! Oh god, yeah, him. What was he on? Did you ever tell him you didn’t care about golf at all?”
“I really thought he would have noticed by the fifth time I declined an invite to the driving range.” Jeonghan rubs his face. Man, why are boys so dumb, he thinks. How is he ever gonna get his romcom story?
Seungcheol opens a new can for each of them, and holds his out for Jeonghan to cheers to. They clink their cans and sit in silence again for a bit. Jeonghan is mentally drafting the breakup text he plans on sending before the day is over, then Seungcheol suddenly speaks.
“If you could get your way, what would your happy ending look like?” Seungcheol asks.
“Oh, I could go on for hours about this, Cheollie,” Jeonghan replies playfully.
Seungcheol chuckles, fond. “I know, but indulge me. What are some of the stuff you really wanna have?”
Jeonghan goes into detail about the relationship of his dreams. He tells Seungcheol about wanting the occasional fancy dinner dates that don’t have to be scheduled for celebrations; the monthsaries and anniversaries he wants to spend just doing errands and making dinner at home; the quirky but very personal gifts he wants to exchange – not just on birthdays but on random days, too; the proposal he wants that isn’t public and loud, but intimate and earnest; and the house he wants to grow old and build a family in, with a yard big enough to raise cows, horses, and goats.
The whole time he spoke, Seungcheol didn’t say anything, just nodded along with a small smile on his face. Jeonghan gets a little self-conscious about how long he rambled, so he returns the question. “And what about you, Cheollie? What does your dream happy ending look like?”
Seungcheol grins wide, cheeks dimpling. “Easy. I wanna be right beside the person I love, wherever that is, and whatever the circumstances might be. Everything else I can take as I go,” he says lightly, but Jeonghan could tell he was serious.
His answer stuns Jeonghan a little, even if he’s known his best friend almost their entire lives. Seungcheol is so simple in his desires, but so sure and steadfast in his idea of love. He admires that, and if he’s being honest, he envies it. He also envies whoever’s gonna end up on the receiving end of Seungcheol’s devotion, because how could you want anything else but that?
“Easy, huh? Are you saying I’m difficult, Choi Seungcheol?” Jeonghan teases him, poking Seungcheol in his side.
“ Stop calling me that, and — hey, no! You’re putting words in my mouth,” Seungcheol grumbles.
Jeonghan laughs freely, a loud and clunky cackle that comes out only ever around his best friend, and Seungcheol is grinning wide again. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at him, and Seungcheol just tilts his head happily.
“That’s more like it. That’s a laugh a birthday boy should be laughing.”
The next day, Jeonghan’s last class gets out at half past three in the afternoon, and on the dot he gets a message from Seungcheol.
cheollie
dinner tonight pls. pls pls plssssss. u cant say no!! my birthday treat for u. dress up nice and pick u up at 7!!! :)
Jeonghan chuckles at the text, replies with a sticker of a bunny doing a thumbs up, and heads home to pick out an outfit he thinks will be acceptable for “dress up nice”. He settles with a white knitted sweater over a thinner white turtleneck, paired with black trousers and the pair of heeled boots he saved up for last Christmas. Two minutes before 7, the doorbell rings. Jeonghan grabs his little black crossbody, and glances at the mirror one last time, before hurrying to open the door.
He thinks his knees go a little weak.
He’s met by his best friend wearing a soft gray cardigan — nothing underneath, holy crap — over light brown checkered trousers and white boots. His traveling gaze makes it all the way back up to Seungcheol’s face and he’s smiling so warmly that his eyes are disappearing, and his soft hair is rustling in the evening breeze.
Jeonghan clears his throat to refocus. “Hmm, okay, not bad. You clean up well,” he says as casually as he can, turning away from Seungcheol to close his front door.
Seungcheol laughs. “I’ve had you nag me all these years. And aren’t you just complimenting yourself? Everything in my closet had to pass your inspection, remember?” he says cheekily.
Jeonghan tries to glare at him, but it’s without weight – it’s too hard to glare at someone who’s mind-blowingly handsome and smiling at you like you hung the moon.
“You look really nice, Han-ah. White always suits you well,” Seungcheol says, no longer joking, but still smiling.
Jeonghan just does a little prince bow in thanks, trying to hide the fact that he’s blushing. He hears Seungcheol chuckle at his antics as they get in Seungcheol’s car.
When they arrive at their dinner destination, Jeonghan is gaping. Like wide-mouthed, nearly-drooling, kind of gaping.
“Cheol-ah… what. How? Why are we — what?” He stutters as he shuts the car door, pausing to continue gaping at the restaurant in front of them.
“This is the restaurant you were telling me about! The one that opened after my birthday? And that you said you wished you could go to for your birthday?” Seungcheol gestures proudly at the building behind him.
“Yes… I know. I know very well because I wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks,” Jeonghan says slowly, trying to get Seungcheol to be on the same level of confused amazement as he is. He doesn’t even bother to correct Seungcheol – he had wanted to go here for his birthday with his boyfriend. In hindsight, that was very naive of him to hope for; the guy couldn’t even remember his birthday at all.
In his head it’s a looping track of what the fuck why are we here how are we here will they even let us in, but he follows Seungcheol to the entrance.
“For Choi Seungcheol, please,” he tells the maitre d', and Jeonghan’s eyes bug even wider. He wordlessly follows the smiling woman to their reserved table, internally screeching. When they’re seated, handed menus, informed about the night’s specials, and left to their devices to choose their food, Jeonghan kicks Seungcheol’s shin under the table.
“What is going on?” he hisses. Seungcheol yelps and looks at him quizzically, but underneath his expression is a layer of smugness that Jeonghan notices but sets aside.
“What do you mean? We’re having a day-late birthday dinner at the restaurant you’ve wanted to go to for months,” he says casually, like they’re about to have dinner at the McDonald’s across their university campus.
“No, I mean how do you have a reservation for this place? Their tables are booked months in advance, and they —”
“Well, yeah, that’s why I booked it months in advance, too.” Seungcheol cuts in.
“Like how early?”
“Like the same night you first talked my ear off about it.”
Jeonghan blinks at him. Seungcheol is just staring back with an innocent look on his face.
“This is too expensive for you to be paying for, we should —”
“Hannie, stop. Like that’s an issue here.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes. His parents are successful business owners and while Seungcheol has always been a humble kid, he also has no sense of what’s normal and what’s ridiculously overpriced.
“Okay, well – why is the reservation for the day after my birthday?”
Seungcheol averts his gaze, seemingly studying the menu. “Just in case.”
Jeonghan thinks of what that means. Just in case you’re free. Just in case he doesn’t take you. Just in case another asshole boyfriend ruins another birthday. Just in case.
“And if I had already gone?” he tries to press Seungcheol.
Seungcheol just shrugs. “It’s just a reservation. If you’d already gone I could have given it to your parents or mine and then just asked you to hang out. Shoot some hoops or kick some goals, or build that lego set Seungkwan gifted you. Whichever you felt like doing. Or all of the above.”
Just in case you still wanted to come here with me. Just in case.
Jeonghan doesn’t say anything. Can’t say anything, more like. What is he supposed to say to that?
They have a lovely dinner and the food is everything Jeonghan hoped it would be and more. Conversation is easy with Seungcheol, as it always is.
Everything is easy with Seungcheol.
When Seungcheol drops him off at home and walks him to his front door, Jeonghan basks in the quiet and vulnerable feeling that’s sinking into his bones. He feels so full of warmth and gratitude for this sweet boy.
“You always know me best, Cheollie,” he says softly, looking down and unable to look Seungcheol in the eye. “I don’t know how anyone else could ever compare.”
He sees Seungcheol’s hand come into view, his pinky finger hooking Jeonghan’s own in a quiet promise. A promise to always be there, to always know him, to always see him.
“They can try,” Seungcheol says, a smile in his voice. He releases Jeonghan’s pinky and begins to walk away, and this time Jeonghan looks up and watches him go. Seungcheol waves goodbye and begins to drive away, and Jeonghan stays to watch him turn the corner. When he’s a couple hundred meters away, Seungcheol stops the car and rolls down his window to yell, “ HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOON JEONGHAN,” before finally driving off.
Jeonghan laughs with his whole chest, thinking to himself that he can’t remember a time before tonight where he felt lighter and happier.
Before he falls asleep, his last thought is a worried echo of what he had said to Seungcheol: Jeonghan is scared he’ll never actually fall in love with anyone else, because he’ll always just compare them to his best friend — the boy who always knows what to say and what to do, and with whom everything is easy.
—
Two years ago, on Jeonghan’s nineteenth birthday, he and Seungcheol had brought out a picnic mat to the park by the river. (The same one they find themselves at on his 21st birthday.) Seungcheol had already turned nineteen two months before, and so they bought Jeonghan his first beer (well – first few beers) at the nearby convenience store and took it to the riverside.
Two cans in, they’re perpendicular to each other, Seungcheol sitting and leaning back on his hands, Jeonghan resting his head on Seungcheol’s thighs. Jeonghan takes a quiet deep breath.
“Cheollie?”
“Hmm?”
A pause.
“I like boys.”
Jeonghan’s stomach tightens to all hell in anticipation of his best friend’s reaction.
“Nice. Thanks for telling me. Me too, I think,” is all Seungcheol says in return. He reaches over Jeonghan and clinks his can against Jeonghan’s, takes a swig, and then proceeds to ask him about how it feels to be a legal adult.
And that was that.
Easy, as it always is with Seungcheol.
𓅮
Twenty-five years old.
“Mom, I told you I’ll be fine home alone,” Jeonghan yells over his shoulder from where he’s perched on the couch, hearing the front door of his home open and shut. “You and Dad don’t have to cancel plans. I’m not about to kill myself over not being able to attend the wedding of a good friend,” he continues sarcastically.
Of all the times in the world to get injuries that required surgery and mandatory bedrest, it had to have happened on the week that his favorite dongsaeng was getting married to a highschool sweetheart. Jeonghan is crushed. He loves love, he loves weddings, he adores all his friends — and he even prepared a toast that was both funny and sentimental! He also had a commitment to dance – soberly, if he may add – with every single one of their friends at the wedding reception. He was completely ready to have a perfect evening.
And yet here he is, back in his parents’ home for the week while he recovers from his elbow and ankle injury.
“Mom? I said you don’t have to —”
The person who came into the house steps around the couch to face him, and… it’s not his mom.
It’s a dimpled boy in a suit that’s already looking a little ruffled, his cheeks pink (from the open bar, Jeonghan guesses) and his hair in disarray, but – smiling. Down at him.
Jeonghan’s heart does a thing.
“And why, pray tell, are you in my living room when my Seungkwannie is marrying your baby brother?” Jeonghan just raises his eyebrows, because pushing Choi Seungcheol out the door is a little difficult for him to do right now. “I know it’s already midnight but there’s no way that party’s already done – over Soonyoung’s dead body.”
Seungcheol just flops onto the couch next to Jeonghan, and puts his feet up on the ottoman, booping one foot to Jeonghan’s uninjured one.
“Because all of the important stuff is over anyway, and I did all my parts,” he says. “And I even did yours!”
“What do you mean? Did you hijack my best man's dinner speech?”
“No, Jun took over and it was hilarious to everyone except Seungkwan, who was very seriously nodding at everything Jun said. His phone was out to record it and all. But no – not that.”
“So what?”
“Nuh-uh, now that’s between me and, like… everyone else present there. Not you,” Seungcheol sing-songs.
Jeonghan is about to argue when Seungcheol suddenly sits up straight. “Okay, not completely done, actually. But I’m here to complete it!”
“Complete what?” Jeonghan demands, exasperated with this halfway tipsy handsome boy.
Seungcheol stands and pulls out a pink peony from inside his chest pocket, and he slots it into the pocket of Jeonghan’s plaid shirt. He then takes Jeonghan’s uninjured arm, motioning for him to try to get up.
“Cheol-ah, what part of fucking injured do you not under—”
“Shut up, I got you. Do you think I’d let you fall?”
Jeonghan finds himself close to Seungcheol. A little too close. Seungcheol has managed to put both of Jeonghan’s feet on top of his own; Jeonghan’s okay hand is in one of his, and his injured elbow is tucked gingerly between the two of them while Seungcheol supports his back so they don’t topple over.
“What are we doing?” Jeonghan whispers. From this close up, he can count every single one of Seungcheol’s (unfairly) long lashes, all of them kissing the spots just above his smiling cheeks as he blinks.
“Finishing your wedding checklist,” he replies, voice low and warm.
Seungcheol starts to sway them slowly, careful to not jostle Jeonghan’s injured limbs too much. He starts humming directly into Jeonghan’s ear — the most cliché of all wedding songs, Can’t Help Falling In Love.
Jeonghan just turns his brain off and lets himself be in this moment. He lets himself be swayed to a song about love, but also about surrender. He lets his cheek rest on the shoulder of the person who has held his hand through every pain, every burden — who did all the errands and brought food daily for his parents while they looked after him in the hospital; who spent almost every free minute he had by Jeonghan’s side at home even on exhausting days when work ran too long; who cooked for him on days his parents were out; who replied immediately to every bored text he sent out, no matter how stupid.
He lets himself be held in the arms of the person who has always made him feel the most safe and comfortable.
“So take my hand,” Seungcheol starts singing softly in his beautifully raspy voice, startling Jeonghan a little. “Take my whole life, too.” He pauses, waiting.
Jeonghan indulges him. “For I can’t help,” he sings softly, almost whispering. “Falling in love with you.”
It’s quiet for a bit, until Seungcheol stops swaying them and pulls back enough to see Jeonghan’s face. “There. Mission complete.”
“I still don’t get — oh.”
Jeonghan realizes what Seungcheol was doing. He made sure Jeonghan got to dance with a friend. It’s not the wedding reception, and he didn’t get to dance with everyone else…
but Choi Seungcheol brought the wedding to him. And he got to dance with his favorite person of all.
12:24AM
horangie
jeonghanie-hyung did u already get to see
did cheol-hyung show u the videos already
ok wait no ofc he wouldnt
but dont worry let me send u everything!!!!!
we missed u hyunggggg
he danced with all of us!! LOLLL he put on this headband with a photo of ur face taped onto it and told us all to pretend we were dancing with u
ngl he kept looking at the open bar and sighing but he rly didnt quit until he got all eleven of us
even got poor hansolie who kept trying to escape his hyung
but it looked less like a dance and more like a headlock
OK OKOK SENDING NOW
dont tell cheol-hyung i sent them to u <3<3<3 <333333
1:27AM
cheollie
troy bolton can kiss my ass
(In the morning, Jeonghan watches it all. In one of the videos, Seokmin is trying to dip Seungcheol backwards and Seungcheol is resisting, but a voice to the side yells, “ Jeonghanie-hyung would have done this, Seungcheolie-hyung! ” and Seungcheol lets himself be dipped. He gets up and shoves a whooping Seokmin away, walking past the recording phone and muttering something about his bad back.
Jeonghan realizes that technically… he got to dance with all twelve of them after all.)
𓅯
Thirty years old.
“You better not have brought me to a goddamn gym again, I don’t care how unhealthy you think I am, Choi Seungcheol, I swear—”
“ Stop saying my name like that like I haven’t freaking begged you for decades not to do it, and besides, what gym takes driving all the way up the—”
“Shut up and just hurry on getting us there already, god, it’s freezing cold—”
“If you didn’t start complaining we would have gotten here faster, and—”
“How is it my fault—”
The bickering is endless today, as it is most days between the two of them. Sometimes Jeonghan bickers for fun, enjoying the way Seungcheol’s speaking gets more and more pouty the more Jeonghan pushes his buttons.
Jeonghan is extra crabby today though, because it’s his thirtieth birthday, and instead of the carrot-cake-in-bed-with-fresh-sheets plan he had in mind, Seungcheol showed up at the architectural firm he works at to pick him up. He gets in Seungcheol’s car anyway, leaving his own behind, and asks him – did we have plans today? Seungcheol’s face shows a secretive smile Jeonghan can’t decode, saying, hmm, we did. Jeonghan scrolls through his recent memory, but he doesn’t remember a conversation about birthday plans.
Jeonghan finally shuts up with his complaining when they stop walking and the blindfold that Seungcheol insisted he put on is removed from his eyes. Jeonghan takes in the view in front of them as his eyes adjust. He’s standing at a spot overlooking the city, and he gasps. The city lights twinkle bright below them, constellations upon constellations.
“Oh, this is amazing! Are you seeing all this, Cheollie?”
“It is, and I am, but that’s not it. Or it’s not all of it, yet.” Seungcheol replies, and he turns Jeonghan to face the other way.
He’s confused, and then not, and then he’s confused again.
He starts with the easiest question. “Where are we?”
It’s an empty piece of land, with trees lining its far borders. There’s very little light, but the moon is bright above them, and—
“Are those all candles?”
“Battery-operated, given where we are, but yeah.”
Jeonghan just stares. And stares. And stares.
“What…” he trails off, not sure what he wants to ask. The candles are lined up a certain way, he thinks, and they’re forming a shape that he can’t stop thinking is familiar. But suddenly it clicks, and he turns sharply to look at Seungcheol, a burning question at the tip of his tongue.
“Yes,” Seungcheol says, already answering the question that he knows Jeonghan will ask, that he only needs to see in Jeonghan’s eyes to know. “Yes they are candles lined up in the exact shape of the floorplan of your dream house that you sketched on a paper placemat at the bistro across from your office. Remember? It was your first day at work, and it was a horribly difficult day, but you told me you would work as hard as you could until you could build your dream house.” Seungcheol takes something out of a paper bag Jeonghan didn’t even notice he was carrying, and hands it to him.
“Happy birthday, Jeonghan-ah,” Seungcheol says quietly, after handing Jeonghan a frame. It’s a bit too dark to properly see, but Jeonghan peers closer and, ah. It’s the very same sketch on the paper placemat.
“Oh! You kept my sketch, you sentimental dummy, you.” He pauses. “And you’re gifting me… what exactly?”
Seungcheol laughs, a little breathless. “God, you drive me insane with how dense you can be sometimes.” He stares hard into Jeonghan’s eyes, willing him to catch up. “I’m gifting you this—” he taps on the frame in Jeonghan’s hands, “—here,” he says, this time pointing towards the candles. “With all the space for your cows, horses, and goats.”
Oh. Jeonghan looks at his sketch, tracing a finger along the lines. His dream house, from his best friend. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t think he even fully understands what’s going on yet, but his instinct to argue with Seungcheol over making overwhelming purchases rises to the top.
“Cheol-ah, what did I say about over–”
“No, wait, before you start arguing with me, just… listen, okay? No more butting in. Listen.” Seungcheol takes the frame from him and puts it down beside them. He takes Jeonghan’s two hands in his.
“I don’t know why I’ve suddenly run out of words to say, when I can’t seem to shut my mouth around you,” he says, voice shaking a bit. “But I don’t need a lot of words anyway. Han-ah, I love you. I love you today, I love you right now, just as much as I’ve loved you from the very, very beginning.”
Jeonghan’s heart is in his throat, and tears have started to just fall, and fall, and fall. He’s not sure why he’s crying, not sure what exactly he’s feeling. He heaves out a sob.
“God damn you, Cheol, I—” he hiccups around a sob, “I’ve loved you my whole life.”
And Seungcheol's face lights up like the sun is inside him. He pulls Jeonghan closer and cups his face, thumbs catching all the tears that are still falling, and falling, and falling. Jeonghan can’t seem to stop crying.
“Oh, I love you. I love you. And you love me. Why are you crying so hard, hmm?”
“Cheollie, don’t you see — all those years, oh god… so many years. All that time we wasted,” he wails, and he can’t even continue to explain the regret that’s crushing everything in his chest. So much time he wasted looking everywhere but right in front of him. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Yoon Jeonghan.
“No, my darling, no, shh. There’s been no time wasted at all. Not a single second.” Seungcheol kisses his forehead, then each of his eyelids, then each of his cheeks. Soft kisses, soothing Jeonghan’s inconsolable hurt. He rests his forehead against Jeonghan’s, talking so softly like he doesn’t want to push Jeonghan into another wave of heaving sobs.
“We’ve never said it in so many words, but I think we’ve always been in love with each other — don’t you agree?” Seungcheol says gently, but so sure in what he’s saying. He pulls away, giving Jeonghan a clear look at his most favorite view in the world – the sweet, smiling face of his best friend, shining so full of the love he declared tonight.
But he’s always looked like that, Jeonghan thinks. And then realizes. The love has been there all this time. He doesn't know why he ever looked far.
He's always had everything he wanted.
Seungcheol sees the realization – the acceptance of the truth – dawn on Jeonghan’s face and he asks, “Do you remember in preschool, that you made me make you a promise?”
Jeonghan tilts his head, unsure.
Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, trying to look serious but very clearly fighting a smile. “You asked me if I would marry you when we’re thirty and adults.”
Jeonghan freezes. He swears he thinks his heart has stopped. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing, his mind racing hundreds of miles per hour, thinking about what Seungcheol is saying and what might be going on here.
Then it somehow gets worse, because now Seungcheol is sinking on one knee, hand reaching into his coat.
“Yoon Jeonghan, twenty-five years ago, you made me pinky promise to marry you — whether dogs like you or not, regardless of how much you love all of them.” Seungcheol pops open the velvet box he took out of his coat, and he’s grinning like he’s running a race he knows he’s won from the start.
“Don’t make me break my promise, Hannie. Will you marry me?”
—
There’s a house on top of a hill, and while it’s usually quite serene there, today it’s noisy. A group of people are sitting around a bonfire in the front yard, the city lights an audience to yelling, laughter, singing, and even a bit of dancing.
Behind the house is a massive backyard, usually full of cows, horses, and goats. But it's late, and right now they're sleeping.
Inside the house, there's a wall near the back of the living room filled with frames of all shapes and sizes, but at the center of it all are three frames of the exact same size, side by side.
One contains a photo of two young children. Each of them is holding a cupcake, one with a bunny, the other with a bear. One of them is looking at the other who’s grinning so hard his cheeks are dimpling.
Another contains a rough outline of a floorplan, sketched on a paper placemat of a bistro in the city.
The last, and the only one that looks new — a couple, hand-in-hand in what appears to be a garden wedding on a sunny day. In this photo, they are surrounded by many smiling faces, but they are only looking at each other’s.