Work Text:
Shoelaces are the worst.
Almost everything else Woojin has learned to do one-handed: dressing up, washing himself, even cooking. But whenever they go out, he has to ask for help.
It's not that Gunwoo minds doing it - he's always quick, quiet and efficient as he ties the laces into a double knot for him before doing his own - but Woojin can't help but feel a bit useless because of it. The wound has healed but his grip is still weak, the damage to his nerves could be permanent. How can he dream of protecting anyone if he can't even put his shoes on?
This time he doesn't mind it as much, because they aren't going shopping, training, nor visiting anyone. It's something else, something that Gunwoo needs help with but doesn't want to talk about in the house.
As per usual, it's Woojin who does most of the talking while on the bus, but falls quiet once they get off in a familiar neighbourhood. Once they stop in front of the building he used to live in he turns to Gunwoo and asks, "Why are we here?"
"I thought you'd like to visit before we move."
Squinting against the sun, Woojin looks up the rows of identical windows with tiny rusting balconies until he spots his old flat. Someone is drying a bright pink towel over the railing. In truth, between all that had happened he hadn't thought about this place once since he left. "Okay. We could pretend there's a gas leak and we need to check the apartment."
Gunwoo stares at him for a second. "I meant the rooftop."
It's kind of annoying how he can look so judgmental without a hint of condescension.
"… Yeah, me too." Woojin says and reaches to punch in the code but Gunwoo is quicker. "How? When? How?" he asks as his friend pushes the door open.
"I learned it by watching you." Gunwoo waits for him to come in.
Something inside of Woojin's belly flutters then and he almost trips over the threshold. They look from the elevator to the narrow staircase in unison, then start running as their eyes meet.
Gunwoo takes two, sometimes three steps at the time and quickly takes the lead, despite the additional weight from the bag he's carrying. Woojin catches up to him after faking an injury at the sixth floor and then when they stop to let an elderly man pass.
"Ahh, Hong Woojin! You're moving back in?" he asks cheerfully.
Woojin bows down, taking the opportunity to catch his breath. "Why? Is your giving you trouble again Mr. Kim?" He feels Gunwoo's gaze on the back of his neck.
"I'm fine, don't worry about me." The man waves them away.
The chase is on again before the top of his balding head fully disappears from view.
Gunwoo reaches the rooftop entrance first and tries to hide his smile as Woojin flattens himself against the door next to him a second later. After a minute of panting they step outside.
Someone has dragged the old couch that used belonged to the cats up two floors and set it up here. Generational layers of fur do little to hide the ugliest shade of green peeking from underneath.
Gunwoo drops his bag next to it and pulls out a purple windbreaker. "For you. It's always cold out here," he says as he hands it over, then zips up his bomber jacket.
"You're… prepared." Woojin puts it on and watches as his friend goes to a pile of carton boxes in the corner, taking out dishes and various small appliances and bringing them over.
"Mhm. Get started on the noodles. I'll do the meat."
Although he tries to be discreet, Woojin feels him staring again as he lifts up a large gallon of water, using his bad hand to grip the bottom, and fills up a pot. Trying to pay it no attention he crouches down next to the bag and starts rummaging through colourful packets of ramen. Suddenly he sucks in a breath. "What's that?" he asks, pulling out a store-bought pack of meat.
Gunwoo looks up from the stove he tries to plug into an extension cord. "It's beef."
Woojin opens his mouth in disbelief. "It has been stewing in that bag for hours."
"It was forty minutes, tops."
"Gunwoo, we can't eat this!"
"Hyung–"
"We'll die of salmonella."
"We won't die. Trust me, hm?" Gunwoo says, glancing at the boiling pot of water. "I can't do the noodles."
"What?"
"I always overcook them." He plops down on the sofa and starts greasing the barbeque. "But we could switch if you want," he adds.
Woojin blinks, hit with the memory of their first meeting here. Gunwoo was sitting next to him then too, handsome, warm and so irrevocably good. But the large scar running down his cheek is a permanent reminder of how much has changed.
"No, it's fine," he says, looking away. "At least we're dying together."
He mixes shrimp and curry flavours - their favourites - while Gunwoo feeds him the best morsels, juicy and fried to perfection.
Woojin's eyebrows draw together. "What do you want?!" he mumbles with his mouth full.
"Maybe swallow first."
"Taaalk!"
Gunwoo sighs and looks to the side. "Can you teach me how to kiss?"
When Woojin starts choking on a rogue noodle he reacts immediately, slapping him between the shoulder blades until he stops coughing. "You good now?"
"Mhm, sorry." Woojin's face is red. "I thought you said something about kissing…" he says as he massages his breastbone.
"Is that so strange?" Gunwoo's hand quickly retreats.
"What?" Woojin tries to look at him while blinking the tears away. "Gunwoo, what?!"
"I can't believe you won't do this for me…" Gunwoo says, pouting.
"No, I just..." Words fail, so he touches his forearm gently. "Why are you asking? Surely you've kissed before?"
"I did, years ago. I didn't really have time for it–" Gunwoo says, sniffling.
"I see…"
"– and I wasn't very good at it," he adds with a shrug.
"Okay, remember what we said about being too honest?"
"Mm." Gunwoo's eyes begin to well up. "I thought you'd help me… I bet you kissed a lot of girls…"
Woojin says nothing - especially not about how most of what he has learned about love was from corporal Han Hoyeol over a course of two years behind ammo storage no. 2.
"Okay…" he says, putting a finger to Gunwoo's lips to shush him. "I'll describe what to do and you have to listen to me, alright?"
Gunwoo nods enthusiastically, although Woojin isn't sure he had heard anything beyond the first word. He sighs, then shifts to sit face to face with him. "First of all, you need to relax. Don't overthink it, it's not rocket science–"
"Woojin?"
"Hm?"
"I really think it'd be easier if you just showed me," Gunwoo says, dragging his eyes up from Woojin's lips.
For a moment they just look at each other. Woojin blinks first. "I'm not going to kiss you," he says and Gunwoo visibly deflates. "It works best if you go with the flow, let yourself be swept by the moment, you know?"
After chewing it over for a moment Gunwoo asks, "How will I know if the person wants to kiss me?"
Are there people who wouldn't?
Woojin looks up to the orange skies to help him come up with an actual answer. "You flirt with them first, feel out if they're into it..." He trails off as Gunwoo leans closer, all serious as he runs a hand through his hair and winks.
"Like this?"
"Y-yeah, something like that." Gunwoo is looking at him and Woojin has to open his jacket, weirdly hot on the windy roof.
"I know you don't want to kiss me, but can I kiss you?"
Who said I don't want to kiss you? Woojin almost protests but instead hears himself saying, "Alright…"
He doesn't believe it's actually happening until Gunwoo's soft, warm lips brush against his, tender and careful in their movements. Woojin apparently closes his eyes at one point and they blink open when Gunwoo pulls back. "Is that good?" he asks, his breath sweeping over Woojin's lips, probably expecting him to answer coherently.
"Mm. Mhm, yeah," he manages to mumble out and a second later he's laying flat on the couch with Gunwoo on top of him, kissing him again.
This time he's clumsier, a bit too eager. Their teeth bump a couple of times. Woojin wouldn't change a thing.
And he has to stop it.
With a heavy heart he gently pushes Gunwoo away and stares at his beautiful, earnest face.
He has to stop it before it all goes too far.
Before his body and heart betray him.
Gunwoo blinks in surprise but pulls back and lets him sit up.
"You got the gist of it," Woojin says when he trusts his voice again. He shoves his hands into his pockets and leans back on the sofa, eyes fixed on the ground.
The silence is short lived.
"I have something else to ask you."
"Mm? What is it?" Woojin keeps his gaze down, rubbing the soles of his sneakers together. Maybe it's time to buy velcro ones.
"How would you go about telling someone you like them? I'm not good with words."
Woojin freezes. "Why… why ask that now? Is there–"
"There's someone I like. I want to tell them how much."
"Mm." Woojin nods, swallowing dryly.
Of course. Of course there is. It was just a question of time.
One of the fan girls, perhaps. Or maybe that cute barista at the smoothie place…
Whoever it is, Gunwoo deserves it. He deserves to be happy more than anyone.
"Write down what you want to say, but speak from the heart."
"Could you help me? I don't–"
"I can't." Woojin shakes his head and stands up. "Sorry, I… There's something I have to do."
"Hyung!" Gunwoo calls after him.
"I'll see you later at home." Woojin turns back in the door, keeping it from closing with one arm. "Don't worry about me, hm?" He tries for a reassuring smile before bolting down the stairs.
This time Gunwoo probably couldn't catch up to him even if he tried.
But he doesn't try.
Woojin wanders through the narrow, winding streets, some familiar to him from what seems like another life.
A time before he met Gunwoo.
He even manages to get lost for a bit, kicking an empty beer can up and down the pavement and gaining dirty looks from the passersby until a homeless man snatches it from him.
Then there's nothing more to distract him from what he has to do - come back and be happy for Gunwoo and the person he chose.
It's only Woojin's fault he let his feelings grow too large for the small box he usually keeps them in.
By the time he finds the way home it's fully dark outside. The lights in the kitchen are on, making his anxiety spike up again.
Mum is listening to a radio while patching up her son's favourite shirt.
She pretends she wasn't waiting for him, but can't fully hide her relief when Woojin steps through the door. He answers her questions politely without really telling her anything, then drags himself upstairs, feeling that much heavier for making her worry.
The guest bedroom is at the end of the hall. Woojin almost makes it inside when the door to their room opens.
"Woojin? Are you okay?" Gunwoo comes out to the hall, fondling a piece of paper in his hand.
"Yeah, I think I'm getting sick. I'm going to sleep in here tonight…"
Gunwoo stops at the threshold. "I took your advice and wrote down what I wanted to say." He looks down at the page in his hand. It seems like there's more crossed out words than white space on it. 'I've never confessed to anyone before, but I also was never in love,' he starts reading from it.
Something tightens in Woojin's chest, stealing his breath. "Let's do it tomorrow, okay? I promise, I'll help you." He tries to shut the door but Gunwoo stops it with his tree trunk of a leg, and keeps going.
'Mr. Choi had told me to keep the people I love close, but at this point I have more dead friends than living ones. I counted.'
Woojin's knuckles go white clenched on the door handle. He inadvertently steps closer.
Gunwoo keeps his eyes cast down on the page, tugging at his hair anxiously.
'Everyone who knows you comes to love you. But I think I love you more than a friend, or a brother…'
The paper is shaking in his hand. Woojin wants to reach out and wipe the lines of worry from his face but doesn't even dare to blink, lest it all disappears.
'And I know you think you have to fight to prove something, but that's not true. I only care that you don't die and be here, with me. Stay with me, Woojin.'
Gunwoo folds the paper carefully and puts it in his hoodie pocket. "That's all I managed to put down." He bites his lip, then rises his head and meets Woojin's eyes. " I love you, hyung."
Woojin opens his mouth, as if to speak, but no sound comes. He just nods instead, blinking the tears away and mouths, "me too."
Gunwoo's face starts lighting up slowly. It's like a sunrise. He wipes the tears from Woojin's cheeks, then kisses the rest away. His fingers find the scar on the inside of his palm. He lifts it up to his lips and kisses it before tracing its length with his tongue. "I've always wanted to do that."
"Yeah?" Woojin says softly. He grabs the hem of Gunwoo's hoodie as he steps back, pulling him inside. "Show me what else you've learned."