Chapter Text
3rd person's POV
Joshua sat motionless in the driver's seat of his car, the streetlamp outside casting a golden glow on the dashboard. The crumpled receipt from tonight's dinner lay like a bitter reminder in his hand. Another blind date, another disaster. He exhaled through his nose, slow and tired, and let his head fall back against the headrest.
He wasn't even sure why he kept agreeing to these setups anymore. Maybe some part of him still wanted to believe he could find someone naturally, romantically, just like in the stories and movies. But it always ended the in same stilted conversations, shallow curiosity and awkward laughter. Tonight, the girl had excused herself ten minutes after appetizers, claiming she had to feed her cat. He didn't blame her.
He just... needed to not be alone tonight.
Joshua reached for the gearshift with a quiet sigh. There was only one place he ever wanted to be on nights like this–Jeonghan's apartment.
His hands knew the drive by heart, steering him down familiar roads without a second thought. The city blurred past him, neon signs flickering across the windshield as music played softly in the background. He stopped at a convenience store along the way, picking up a few bottles of soju and beer. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he stood in line, the hood of his hoodie pulled up and a mask hiding most of his face. His newly dyed red hair peeked out beneath a beanie–a recent, impulsive decision he wasn't quite ready to explain to the world.
By the time he reached Jeonghan's apartment, the weight pressing on his chest had grown heavier, not lighter. But still, something eased when he saw the familiar building, the quiet hallway, the worn welcome mat outside the door. He didn't knock. He never needed to. The door code was muscle memory.
Inside, Jeonghan was curled up on the couch, a large mug of tea cradled in one hand and his laptop balanced on his lap. The glow of the screen cast soft shadows on his face, making him look ethereal, as always–half angel, half troublemaker.
Jeonghan looked up as the door opened, his face lighting up with a knowing smile the moment he saw the familiar figure.
"Oh, Joshuji," he said, voice teasing but gentle. His gaze dropped to the bag in Joshua's hand. "Bad night?"
Joshua didn't answer right away. He just toed off his shoes, walked into the warm apartment, and let the door fall shut behind him.
"Another unsuccessful blind date," he said finally, dragging his voice over the syllables like they were bricks. "I don't think I'm getting a second. She left before I even finished my drink."
Jeonghan snorted softly. "Ouch. Harsh."
Joshua held up the plastic bag like a peace offering. "I brought reinforcements."
"Come to vent?" Jeonghan asked, already setting aside his laptop and standing to fetch two glasses from the kitchen.
"You know me too well," Joshua said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
By the time Jeonghan returned, Joshua had unpacked the drinks and was sitting on the couch, shoulders slouched and body heavy with the weight of another long, disappointing evening. Jeonghan handed him a glass, then poured out a healthy splash of soju and beer for both of them before settling beside him. The two clinked their glasses lightly in the dim silence of the room.
The couch welcomed them like an old friend. Soft, familiar, and always there when the rest of the world wasn't. Outside, the city hummed faintly, distant enough to feel like a dream. The apartment was quieter than usual without Seungkwan around. He was abroad for work, chasing his schedule across time zones, leaving the two older men alone in the hush of their shared routine.
They sipped slowly, the burn of the alcohol warm and grounding. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the silence between them comfortable, like a blanket. It wasn't awkward. It never was.
Jeonghan eventually glanced sideways. "You okay?"
Joshua didn't answer right away. He stared into his glass, swirling the clear liquid as if it might give him an answer. Then he shrugged, almost helplessly.
"I don't know. I guess I'm just... tired. Of trying. Of pretending to be interesting enough for someone to stay."
Jeonghan's brows drew together, but he didn't speak just yet. He let Joshua keep going.
"They always ask me the same things. What I do. If I travel a lot. If I'm close with my bandmates. And it's like... they never want to know me. Just the idea of me."
There it was. The truth beneath the words. Loneliness disguised as exhaustion.
Jeonghan leaned back, tucking one leg beneath himself. "You are interesting. And they're just idiots."
Joshua let out a dry laugh. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just hard to love."
Jeonghan reached out and nudged his knee with his own. "Don't say that."
Joshua looked at him then, really looked. The soft lighting from the kitchen reflected in Jeonghan's eyes, casting them in amber. There was a depth there that made Joshua feel seen. Really, deeply seen. Not as a member of Seventeen, not as someone who always had to smile and be the gentleman. Just... Joshua Hong.
"You always say that," he murmured.
"Because it's always true," Jeonghan replied simply. "Anyone would be lucky to love you."
The words hung in the air like a promise, like something neither of them dared to touch too directly. Joshua looked away first, his throat tight.
"Thanks," he said softly.
They drank in silence for a little while longer, letting the alcohol dull the sharper edges of the night. Joshua leaned into the couch, head slowly tipping toward Jeonghan's shoulder. He didn't mean to. He was just tired, and the comfort was too tempting.
Jeonghan didn't move. He let him stay there, solid and quiet beside him, letting Joshua rest in the safety of something that didn't need words.
Eventually, Jeonghan broke the silence again, voice quiet.
"Next time you get set up, ask if they'd be cool with karaoke on the first date. Weed out the boring ones right away."
Joshua laughed–really laughed-for the first time that night. "God, they'd run screaming."
"Exactly. You'd be doing both of you a favor."
"I am going to die single, aren't I?" Joshua laughed.
"Probably." Jeonghan said adding fuel to the fire.
"Hey! you are supposed to be on my side. You are supposed to tell me that I will find a wonderful girl, who I will marry one day and have a family with." Joshua whined.
Their laughter echoed softly through the apartment. The world outside still turned. But in here, tucked into the warmth of a familiar home, between drinks and shared silences, Joshua felt a little less tired. A little more whole.
Maybe he didn't need to search so far to feel seen.
That night, after the bottles were emptied and the laughter had faded into a warm, quiet hush, Joshua climbed into Jeonghan's bed like he had done countless times before. It was an unspoken routine now, part of the fabric of their friendship, something neither questioned nor thought twice about.
Jeonghan didn't even look up from where he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom when Joshua walked into his bedroom, peeled off his hoodie, and tugged on the oversized pajama shirt that Jeonghan always kept in the drawer for him. There were even a few pairs of sweats and spare underwear in the closet–Joshua's unofficial stash. A quiet testament to how often he stayed.
There was an empty bedroom just down the hall, Seungkwan's room, left neat and untouched while he was away for work. But neither of them ever used it. Somehow, they both ended up in Jeonghan's twin bed, night after night, especially when the world felt too heavy. It had become second nature. So normal that the idea of sleeping apart never even crossed their minds.
Jeonghan returned to the room and turned off the main light, leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Joshua was already curled up under the covers, eyes half closed, face turned toward the wall. The room smelled faintly of Jeonghan's linen spray–egyptian cotton and something clean, familiar. The air was cool, the sheets warm. The silence between them was soft, lived in.
Jeonghan slid in beside him, the mattress dipping with his weight. His arm automatically reached around Joshua's waist, pulling him close until their bodies molded together like puzzle pieces long since worn in. Joshua didn't resist. He never did. He shifted slightly, fitting himself into the curve of Jeonghan's body, letting out a quiet sigh that sounded like surrender.
They always slept like this. Tucked into each other, limbs loosely tangled, breaths evening out in time. No questions, no explanations. Just quiet understanding.
Jeonghan's hand found the curve of Joshua's side and rested there, fingers warm through the fabric of his shirt.
"You okay?" he whispered, even though he knew the answer.
Joshua made a soft sound in the back of his throat. "Better now."
A small smile tugged at Jeonghan's lips in the dark. "Good."
If someone had walked in at that moment, someone who didn't know them, didn't understand the years and layers between them... they might've assumed the scene to be something else. Something romantic. Something more.
But that wasn't what this was.
Or maybe it was. Just not in the way people understood love to be.
They weren't lovers. They weren't a couple. They didn't kiss goodnight or say sweet nothings under the covers. But still, this... them... meant something. Something sacred. Something deeply rooted in shared history and unspoken promises.
Joshua's fingers curled around Jeonghan's arm where it wrapped around him, grounding himself in the touch. Jeonghan's presence was a balm, the only thing that made his restless thoughts settle on nights like these.
"Thanks for tonight," Joshua mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Jeonghan's reply came a beat later, low and sincere. "Always."
Outside, the city murmured in the distance, life continuing quietly beyond the apartment walls. But inside the room, time slowed. Two souls, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, safety, and the kind of closeness that didn't need to be defined to be real.
They fell asleep like that. Hearts steady, bodies close, wrapped around each other like they always had been. There was no need to say more.
They were each other's comfort. Each other's home.