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Jisoo doesn’t generally think of himself as a pessimist. He is forward looking, pragmatic and rational. Despite this, it’s hard to reconcile with the fact that Seokmin’s leaving soon.
He tries to push it away, tries to be normal about something that should be normal business for every other young man in this country. The second he imagines Seokmin — one in eight billion people — Seokmin, disappearing into a crowd of hundreds, thousands of others, he tears the mental image to shreds. He hates it already.
So Jisoo is a little attached. Sue him for being a loving boyfriend. He thinks, for the kind of person Seokmin is, ‘boyfriend’ is an understatement. Seokmin is his soulmate, another part of him in a different body. Every time he turns, Seokmin is there. Seokmin, Seokmin, Seokmin. Before he makes jokes, he already hears Seokmin’s cackle ring in the back of his mind. He can barely wear Seokmin’s clothes without feeling the ghost of his hands on his waist, roaming all over, and the rumble of a delighted voice in his ear. He can’t even sleep without the warmth he is so used to, wrapping around him with disregard for his need to breathe. Seokmin is his whole life.
The night before he leaves, as Seokmin presses him into their bed by laying right on top of him, Jisoo thinks ‘love’ is maybe the wrong word, all this time.
Jisoo turns his face away. He tries not to think of it as tenderness. Thinking of it as tenderness, like the tangerine in the palm of Seokmin’s hand, the flesh swallowing the edge of his thumb as he peels it away whole. Tenderness like the junction of Seokmin’s shoulder that fits snugly against his neck. Tenderness like the familiarity of Seokmin curling his fingers over his waist as he rocks into Jisoo from behind, burning gently and steadily in between his legs. Even now, surrounded by Seokmin from all directions, feels like he is carving a hole away from the inside, like scraping the bottom of a bowl at the end of the meal. Like ending. It’s just the military. It’s just two years.
“Two years is going to be nothing.” Something like citrus burns in the base of his throat when he swallows. He tries to choke down the feeling, breathe Seokmin in now so there’s less of him that leaves, and-
And. And he still cries.
He clamps a hand over his own mouth and the tears keep coming, keep falling, soaking Seokmin’s sleeve in a darkness he can’t take back, a sadness that stains the arm he’s lying on. Jisoo brings the ocean back with him when he goes swimming, even if Seokmin insists on holding his hand. On the first warm drop, Seokmin pulls Jisoo into him, turning him to see his face. His lover burns with so much shame he can’t look Seokmin in the eyes, but clutches at his pyjama shirt like a drowning man to driftwood.
“We’re gonna miss you.” Jisoo croaks, after the silence stretches on for a few minutes. He says this while trying to hide his face against Seokmin’s chest, but Seokmin’s iron grip on his shoulders holds him at a distance. Seokmin’s gaze roams all over his saltwater-stained face, the puffiness of his eyes, the bobbing of his throat as Jisoo keeps gasping, swallowing around his sadness. We’re gonna miss you. Seokmin knows what he means. He doesn’t even have to say it. He’s standing in the ocean and it’s endless water for miles.
“It’s okay if you miss me the most.” He brushes a thumb over the dampness around Jisoo’s eyes. “Aein,” Seokmin sighs fondly as Jisoo trembles at the term of endearment and his face crumbles in an aborted sob.
“I’ll miss you the most too.” Seokmin pulls Jisoo closer, tucking him close, as close as he can without melting into him fully. “I’ll miss you the most. I’ll think of you first every day and last every night before I go to sleep. I’ll call you so many times you’ll want to mute your phone again. I’ll write you an essay for every day I’m gone. I’ll record you lullabies in advance. I’ll put that dumb photocard of you in my front pocket. I’m going to annoy you all day every day with gossip from my friends in there. We can go to brunch with their girlfriends. It’s not over, baby. Nothing’s over, aein. You’re not losing anything.”
Jisoo tightens his embrace around Seokmin’s waist wordlessly and that’s Seokmin’s cue to run his hands through his hair, curling and playing with the parts that are growing long at the bottom, cradling the nape of his neck, warm with sleep. He runs his hands down, down toward the small of Jisoo’s back, kissing it with every fingertip. Jisoo hums, and wriggles around to free Seokmin’s hand that grasps his wrist, moving to rest on the curve of his ass.
The older man tries to change the subject, to feel some semblance of normality. “Are you going to miss my ass?” Jisoo says flatly, pouting. Seokmin almost laughs, biting his lip. Jisoo is strikingly bad at this. It’s still endearing though. Guilt is a wet sheen to his brown eyes that Seokmin notices immediately. Changing the subject, being funny, banter; all are weapons in Hong Jisoo’s arsenal of avoiding his feelings. He knows this. He loves Jisoo despite.
“Not if you send me pictures.” Seokmin pats his butt lovingly, and accepts the inevitable tweak that Jisoo gives his ear.
Two years is a blip in the time they’ve spent together. Two years is nothing in the grand scheme of life that Seokmin has planned out for them both. But Jisoo is sentimental. He loves everything. Every little moment. He even remembers the first moment he met Seokmin. The first thought. Every thought after. It is not a secret that Jisoo loves well.
It is, however, his curse. But Seokmin is not a Prince Charming, and this is not a fairytale. Jisoo doesn’t need his absence to grow fonder. He knows that, as he gathers his lover up in his arms, warm and pliant, to press a kiss to the red corner of his mouth. Jisoo’s eyes are closed, lulled to sleep by the heartbeat in his ear.
“Thank you for waiting.” He whispers, even if Jisoo might not hear it.
Fighting his drowsiness, Jisoo replies anyway, “Don’t keep me for too long.”
Seokmin would never. He would never even think of it.
~
Jisoo clings to him like a limpet. He follows Seokmin everywhere, on stage, in their home, to the enlistment camp to see him off. He watches, as Seokmin appears with his suitcase and duffel bag, melting into the scene with the hundreds of others there. Mothers are dabbing their eyes and embracing their sons, some soon-to-be soldiers are exchanging their last goodbyes for now with their girlfriends. And Jisoo? Jisoo intertwines his fingers with Seokmin's, pulling the cap over his face and says nothing. There's nothing he could say that he hasn't already said, and nothing he could do that Seokmin hasn't already anticipated. He just curls himself, like a tree root, around Seokmin's solid arm, and leans into him, just a little bit more.
(“Lean on me,” Seokmin had said, all those years ago. “Lean on me, so that I can love you just as much as you love me.”)
Seokmin, sweet, sweet Seokmin, always notices. He whips around to signal to his parents, sister, brother in law and their baby that he's going to the bathroom. They nod, and Seokmin’s sister locks gazes with for a fraction of a second, exchanging understanding. She makes a shooing gesture, accompanied by a tiny smile. Something about understanding young love that she doesn’t have to say, but that Seokmin knows she understands.
Jisoo makes a startled noise when Seokmin picks up the pace, shuffling to the side of the building, out of sight of the fansites and paparazzi he's already acknowledged. His grip on Jisoo’s hand is firm but warm as he pulls Jisoo in properly, heart to heart and tugs his mask down. His hand cups Jisoo's cheek and turns it upwards to meet his eyes, shining with unshed tears.
“Hi baby”, Seokmin brushes his thumb under Jisoo's eyes. It comes away dry. Jisoo doesn't cry where someone can see it. Seokmin knows. He knows so many things. It’s like a halting of breath in his lungs, to know this many things about Jisoo, and not act on them. Or be able to touch them. To touch Jisoo. Separation is a killing of instinct, of habit.
“Hi”, Jisoo whispers. It comes out raspy, like Jisoo has been sanding it down every time he swallows down something he wants to say. He holds back, for fear he is making it difficult for everyone. He is, after all, more acutely aware that everyone loves Seokmin, and less aware that he is the most important person of everyone. Seokmin kind of wants to climb the roof to yell at him about it. But he can’t. So Seokmin studies his face for a split second before leaning in to press his lips to Jisoo's as a reply. Jisoo wraps his arms around his middle, to press closer, always closer, and Seokmin wants to choke down the familiar ache in his chest. He kisses Jisoo, one, two, three, five, ten times, mouth on mouth, getting lost in it. Letting himself get washed away in the ocean that is Jisoo. Sometimes, Seokmin is less man than he is habit. Habit loves Jisoo, irrefutably, endlessly. Jisoo hums, a shaky melody in his arms. He gets the feeling Jisoo's trying to remember this moment, it's all he has for a while.
It’s two months of being apart, but then it’s the rest of the two years that Seokmin is missing from their schedules. Jisoo knows this, repeats it like a mantra in his head. But it doesn’t make the ache lessen. He likes to think of himself as an independent man who can do everything on his own. In his mind though, Hong Jisoo, the man, is barely separable from Hong Jisoo, Seokmin’s first and only love.
“You'll eat and text me? Sleep when you're tired?” Jisoo plays with the hem of Seokmin's shirt. He runs his hands over his shoulders, the rank with his family name, down his arms, palms resting under his elbows. Maps out the plane of Seokmin’s existence like he hasn’t already tried this millions of times. Like he could ever map out the universe in a man.
“Of course. What are your plans for tomorrow? Other than the photoshoot and the filming for the show? If you’re bored, Hannie hyung says you are welcome anytime in his and Cheol hyung's place.”
Jisoo makes a face. “No promises. I don’t feel like third wheeling.” Seokmin cackles before leaning in to press his lips to the shell of his boyfriend’s ear.
“I left a little surprise for you in the front drawer of the closet. Go find it later.”
Jisoo gapes, his pretty mouth falling open. “For me?”
“Do you see any other man named Hong Jisoo around here who happens to share my apartment?”
Jisoo shuts him up with a kiss. “ ‘You’re welcome’ would have sufficed.”
“I like you, Hong Jisoo. Nothing is ever enough for you.” Seokmin says it with his whole chest, heaving. He’s warm all over and it’s still early spring. He feels like the sun, leaning into the flower that is Jisoo. Tenderness eats at him. He wants to press into his flower with all the light in the world. Make it bloom. He wants to watch it. Be the cause of it. He wants to do it now.
“Don't get too handsome, okay? I can't have anyone running after you. You're mine.” Jisoo steels, tugging at his lapels. That pout of his is lethal.
Seokmin wiggles his eyebrows. “Don't you think I get more handsome all the time? I can't help it.”
“You should draw yourself a moustache with the camo paint. Salute.” Jisoo narrows his eyes and swats lightly at his face.
“I'll send you a selca when I do. But not to worry, Private Lee Seokmin is all yours, baby. Moustache and all.” Seokmin catches his hand to press his lips to the inside of his wrist. The flowery perfume and the smell of his body wash lingers against his lips, a fading warmth. Seokmin needs an extra-strength painkiller with how much he aches, tender all over.
“Text me. When you're eating, before you sleep, running, taking a shit, whatever.” Jisoo breathes, leaning in. His voice tightens on the last few syllables, and Seokmin knows that this is what love does when it is scared. It tightens the hand that is holding it.
“The great Hong Jisoo who never uses his phone wants me to text him on LINE?” Seokmin gapes in fake shock. “Wow, never thought I'd see the day.”
“You brat. Text me. Call me. I'll miss your stupid voice.” Jisoo finally huffs out a smile against his lips. Seokmin can make out the faint scent of his face wash, a bullet of tenderness that aims true for his heart.
Seokmin obliges him, again and again. “Anything else you'll miss?”
“The rest of that stupid body too, Lee Seokmin.”
“This stupid body loves you!”
“I love him too. I love everything about him.” Jisoo shoots back, a little too earnestly. His wistfulness is falling off him like confetti. Seokmin wants to open his palms, cup it all up, and keep it for himself.
Two months. Two months first. Seokmin sighs, then leans in to kiss Jisoo again. He doesn’t think he will ever tire of this. Not for the rest of his life.
~
Time does not fly, it crawls. But Seokmin will drag Time itself down the road if it means he gets to see Jisoo at the end of it.
Two weeks in on an unassuming weekday, Seokmin gets a Weverse ping from his phone with no warning prior. Usually if one of the members has scheduled a live with the staff’s permission, they put it in the shared calendar, to avoid clashes with schedules. It’s a Tuesday night, and Seokmin is a liar if he doesn’t open his phone religiously to check Weverse posts from his members. He has a group chat with them on every single social media app on his phone but still it’s not enough.
He wants to see them every day again, wants to be jumped by Seungkwan, yell at Soonyoung, goof around and make Hansol and Chan laugh, snuggle up to Jeonghan and annoy Mingyu until he chases him around the practice room, earn Seungcheol’s praise and take ugly photos of Wonwoo and sing so loudly Jihoon smiles down at his setup through the window in the booth, and run in circles around Minghao and play fight Junhui. He wants to sneak around in the dark kissing Jisoo, and steal his food during meals and invade his personal space at every opportunity. Breathe the air he breathes. He’s very normal about this.
He clicks the notification from the lockscreen to find comments zooming up under a live video of Jisoo, in their apartment’s living room, doe eyes sideways. He’s wearing that one Chanel beanie he loves so much, the little ends of his bangs peeking out at the sides. Draped across his neck is the usual cross necklace, the pendant sitting prettily in the dip between his collarbones, above an army green tank top and black cardigan. Jisoo’s face is dangerously close to the camera, a snow white expanse that Seokmin immediately wishes was on a 55 inch television screen so he could reach out and pinch it.
“Oh, caratdeul, hold on, let me get the camera again.” The live chat erupts in reassurances as his boyfriend squints, then the camera flips, so that it’s sitting on the coffee table. Seokmin is greeted with a lovely view of Jisoo’s knees in those grey sweatpants he wears religiously. He feels a little insane, that even Jisoo’s knees make him smile.
Jisoo leans in close, eyes twinkling. “I wanted to do a live today because I missed you guys.” He studies the phone screen, reading comments as the chat spams even more praise and excitement his way. Jisoo’s focused smile is like espresso, it gets Seokmin’s heart racing.
His lips are tinged gummy pink, the sheen of toner on his cheek glinting in the dim lamplight. Even the curve of his face is endearing. Is this what it’s like to be a fan, watching their favourite idol? The rush of it is addictive. He shuffles his phone to the side, and pulls the blanket over his head. The thump of his heart echoes in his ears. Damn you Hong Jisoo. Damn you Weverse. He feels like a teenage boy again, curling up around his adoration, turning it over silently in the dark where no one can see.
“You guys can ask for songs,” Jisoo begins, pulling his guitar from the other end of the couch, where it was leaning no doubt, and shuffles down onto the floor between the couch and the coffee table. He inches the table backwards a little and the camera quivers. Seokmin’s grin mirrors his when Jisoo smiles sheepishly and begins strumming, going through the basic chords. He pauses to read requests, most of them accompanied by excessive amounts of emojis and capital letters and proclamations of love. Seokmin can understand.
Jisoo sings a few songs, one of them in English, another in Chinese. He stumbles on the tones a little but laughs it off. For the most part, he’s pitch perfect and tonally correct, earning the praise of the CARATs in the comment section. His voice swirls like honey, echoing off the walls in the living room (that was designed specifically for the acoustics), like a balm in Seokmin’s ears. Seokmin swears, even if Jisoo insists he has a better voice, that he would rather listen to Jisoo for the rest of his life. His eyelids are heavy, lulled by the voice of the person he loves, and it’s warm under the blanket, in the dark. He wants to pretend he’s in their bed, that Jisoo’s putting the guitar away in a few minutes and will wriggle his way into his arms to sleep wedged comfortably against him. Let him pretend, just for a bit.
In his last moments of wakefulness, he hears the lullaby he recorded onto Jisoo’s music box. The gift he left Jisoo in the front drawer of their closet. The tenor of Jisoo’s hum filters into his mind through his headphones, and he swears he still hears it, even as Jisoo blows a kiss at the camera and turns off the live with a sweet “Sleep well!”
He wakes the next morning to his stupid 6am alarm, but with two LINE messages. He jumps to unlock his phone, fumbling with the combination lock twice.
i know you were watching. that was for you.
Ominous, out of context, but Jisoo is straightforward like that.
i love you, come back to me soon?
Crushingly sweet. Seokmin’s arms ache like his phone weighs a ton.
wait for me, aein! I miss you too დ დ დ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈
He types it out and shoves the phone in the front pocket of his jacket. The photocard of Jisoo in his wallet itches in his front jacket pocket so he fishes it out and stares longingly. He’s well aware he looks pathetic. But he’s well past the point of caring. If a stupid paper photo of Jisoo gets him through the day then so be it. Paper Jisoo is frozen, holding a half-heart hand to his cheek, the curve of his mouth framed by the warm brown tones of his haircut. It’s a good photo, Seokmin has to admit, but it’s nothing compared to the raw sight of Jisoo, dressed down, splayed out in his sleep on their bed, or Jisoo with one leg up, eating ramyeon on the couch and flipping through trashy reality shows. Jisoo, biting his lip in the dark behind the curtains of their stages. Jisoo, seated on the floor of their bedroom, arranging his perfumes.
He imagines Jisoo now, leaning against the kitchen counter, making his coffee. The hum of the machine, the sunlight filtering in through the glass panes to lean up against Jisoo’s bare ankles, Jisoo’s pyjama shirt hanging off his shoulders. If Seokmin were there, he would’ve pressed up against Jisoo like a needy cat, kissed the junction of his shoulder, and crooned a love song off-key into his ear on purpose so Jisoo would turn and tweak his ear in return. Seokmin’s memory is a catalogue of how much he loves Jisoo. He could go on forever.
He tucks the photo back into his wallet carefully. He even has it sleeved, courtesy of the plastic sleeves that accompany the photocards in their albums.
(“It’s pretty, right?” Jisoo had sung when he acquired it while opening albums in their apartment, slinging his stupidly long legs across Seokmin’s lap to straddle him properly. He had pinned the younger man against the couch, batting his eyelashes and flashing that annoyingly charming smile at him. Seokmin had hummed noncommittally, “Mm, so pretty. Can I keep it?” He asks this while placing a hand at Jisoo’s waist, silently delighted at the way it fits against the curve of it. Jisoo had leaned in, giggling, in lieu of an answer, and Seokmin is, has always been, a happy, happy man.)
Consider Seokmin a Joshushushu. From way before Joshushushus even existed. The head Joshushushu, if you will. The thought has him pursing his lips to stop the laughter that threatens to spill out.
aein,, can i be class president of the joshushushus? დ ⁽̨̡ ¨̮ ⁾̧̢
ㅋㅋㅋ aren’t you already ??
mm, if my baby says so, then he is surely right. Ꙭ̮
have a good day at work, class president!
ㅋㅋㅋ boyfriend class president will return to you shortly!! salute !! ◡ ̈ ༘ *
Seokmin smiles, and tucks the phone into his pocket. Jisoo later posts this exchange on his private Instagram account, where the members poke fun at them, but Seokmin is all warm inside. Whatever Jisoo wants.
~
They get through the two months with less difficulty than Seokmin expects. He owes this to Seungcheol announcing a hiatus before they enlisted, so things are quieter. The members retreat a little, into their own promotions and work. They’re still Seventeen, and still have monthly meetups. So nothing is different really, except that for those two months, Seokmin aches for the warmth of Jisoo in his bed, and the night time strolls with Jisoo, and Jisoo himself over all other worldly comforts.
If anything, the real difficulty hits them when they least expect it. Sometime after Seokmin starts his boring office job, Jisoo stops answering his texts. If this were any other time, he wouldn't be as worried. Jisoo never answers his phone. But since he's left for the military, he's been online 24/7. The fans are losing it. Seokmin's just happy to talk to him. He still doesn't call, for fear of disrupting practice or that he's on schedules. He waits for Jisoo to call, almost always in the morning and at night. He’s been trying to sleep early and wake up early, but Seokmin’s his lullaby and morning alarm, or so he claims. Seokmin has no qualms about this. He can be anything for Hong Jisoo.
aein,, have your vitamins and a good breakfast today!! private lee seokmin is cheering you on! your boyfriend lee seokmin misses you, come give me a kiss during break time when you're free,, i’ll wait patiently…٩(ˊᗜˋ)و
aein,, you must be busy… and you must be missing me… i came to give you a kiss,, mwahhhh… eat well today i'll call you tonight ! (・３・)
aein,, are you alright? should i send someone to check on you?? you might just be busy,, but i'll text kwannie, okay! if you don't want to be disturbed,, you can just send him off…༼ಢ_ಢ༽ love you…
Three essays in a row and no reply. It's 2pm and Seokmin is contemplating breaking down the door to their apartment himself. He doesn't care if he gets in trouble. Is Jisoo dead? Did someone break in and kill him? What if he fell and hit his head and can't get up?
He scrolls to his calendar app and scrolls through it. Strange. It’s empty. He has a photoshoot tomorrow and a meeting on Friday with everyone, but there’s nothing today. His boyfriend insists on ‘Good morning’ and ‘I love you’ messages every day. There’s no way in hell he would miss it. He’s a control freak. He even schedules his messages if he intends to get drunk.
He scrambles for his phone and dials ‘Kwannie whom I love’ immediately. Seungkwan’s voice comes through on the third ring.
“Kwannie. I need you to drive over to Jisoo's. Now.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“He's not answering his phone.” Seokmin’s leg is bouncing so violently he worries he might shake the office chair off its last legs. He would have to replace that.
“Jisoo hyung never answers his phone. Are you sure he isn't just sleeping?”
“He does! To me at least. He's been clingy since I left, I swear! He wants a ‘Good morning, baby’ and ‘Good night, baby’ and a “I love you have a good day’ and- and- video calls me every night and we do the same things you and Hansollie do at night and-”
“Okay! I get it! TMI!” Seokmin can imagine Seungkwan’s face reddening at the realisation. It’s like realising your parents have sex. No one likes thinking about it.
“What if someone kidnapped him or something!” Seokmin can admit he’s being a bit frantic. Well, he can calm down once he knows Jisoo is fine.
“No… No way, they would want a ransom.” Seungkwan pauses, contemplating it.
“What if he fell and hit his head in the bath? What if someone broke in?”
That seems to do it for Seungkwan. He tucks his phone between his face and shoulder, grabbing his jacket from the closet. “I’m going now, but if he's just sleeping I'm going to yell at him, then yell at you.”
“Okay, fine. Please hurry.”
“I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying! Geez, I'm worried too, okay?” The lock to Seungkwan’s apartment clanks in the background. He mutters under his breath, probably to Hansol, to grab his car keys.
“And Kwannie, one last thing?”
There’s a flurry of sound, Hansol stomping down the driveway diligently, the beeping of the car in the background. Seungkwan scrambles to put his phone to his other ear as he switches to his other hand to unlock the car door. “What?”
“You know I love you right?” Seokmin asks, albeit a little desperately. He drums his fingers on the desk nervously in the moment of silence that it takes Seungkwan to respond.
“I love you too!” Seokmin can imagine him throwing his car keys into the glove compartment with exasperation. “What's wrong with you today? You're going to make me cry in the car!” The seatbelt zips past the receiver as Seungkwan sets his phone somewhere stable, probably the cupholder.
Seokmin makes a mental prayer before voicing his request. “Let Hansollie drive. Please. I can’t handle it if both you and Jisoo die on the same day.”
Seungkwan sputters in offense. “Dramatic!”, but he concedes and there’s even more rustling as he switches out with Hansol to shotgun.
“Call me when you reach.” Seokmin manages a grin.
“Both of you owe me coffee if nothing’s wrong.” Seungkwan threatens with no venom, before hanging up as Hansol revs the car engine to life.
Seokmin likes to think that he concentrates on his work, he really does. He is a good, and dutiful civil servant. He slaps his face. He is a civil servant with paperwork to do and is probably just overly worried about his boyfriend. He can focus on this spreadsheet. He can.
Seokmin is successful for a total of half an hour before his phone rings and he picks it up before it even rings twice.
“Seokmin-ah.” Seungkwan is breathless, like he climbed all the stairs to Jisoo's apartment instead of taking the lift. There's coughing in the background and muffled words that sound like they belong to Hansol.
“We broke into his apartment.” Seungkwan says with no small amount of pride.
Somehow, this is the least alarming thing of the day to Seokmin. “Is he okay? Please tell me he's not dead.”
“Good news, he's not dead. Bad news, he's sick.”
In the background, Jisoo affirms this conclusion by proceeding to gag, and the sound of liquid hitting porcelain tells Seokmin everything he needs to know. The sound of Hansol patting his back is muffled by Seungkwan's rustling to grasp a tissue.
“Feel better?” sounds faintly in the background, in English. Jisoo whines a no, and the sound cuts through to Seokmin's heart. He twists uncomfortably in his office chair, turning away from his desk. “He's burning up. I think he caught a really bad cold or something. He's barely lucid.”
The next few minutes are muffled, one-sided conversation that drives knives into Seokmin’s ribs. His soles itch with the need to get up, get moving, to do something, that would help, but he can’t.
“Jisoo? Jisoo hyung, it's Kwannie and Hansollie. Squeeze my hand if you can't speak.”
There’s a series of muffled questions as Seungkwan tries to assess the situation. There’s a lump in Seokmin’s throat that makes it hard to speak.
“Do you want water? Okay, I’ll get you some. Stay here with Hansollie okay? Okay. You’re going to be okay, baby.” Seungkwan sighs, socked feet thumping against the hardwood floor into the kitchen. “His hand is weak. I think it's a bad cold, or the flu bug.”
Seokmin should have known. There's the taste of metal that swirls across his tongue when he swallows. His lip feels rough when he runs his tongue over it. “Can I talk to him?”
Seungkwan pauses. “I'm not sure if he wants you to see him like this.”
Seokmin’s mind can recall a hundred other situations where Jisoo has seen him, in a multitude of worse ways. “What haven't I seen at this point?”
There’s a moment of blackness as Seungkwan turns on the video camera and crouches down, turning it towards Jisoo's pale face. There are smudges of darkness around his eyes and his hair is ruffled, sticking up at the side. His gaze is unfocused where he stares at Seokmin, eyes glazed over with fever. Behind him, Hansol is a supportive wall, hands massaging his shoulders. The image burns into Seokmin’s mind, makes Seokmin's heart ache. Jisoo looks small in their bathroom, sick and listless on the tile floor.
Seokmin tries to keep the quiver out of his voice, and skips through jokes for now. “Hi, aein. Not feeling well, baby?”
Jisoo shakes his head, his brown hair a blur on the phone screen. His lips purse, but Seokmin’s unsure if that’s from nausea or to keep from crying. Maybe both. There’s a shine to his eyes that Seokmin hates.
“It's okay baby, I'll be home tonight. I’m sorry I can't be there earlier, but Kwannie and Hansollie will look after you alright?”
Jisoo seems to stare into his soul, eyes glistening, and blinking, then looking away. Seokmin knows exactly the kind of thoughts that are running through his head, and he hates them. Hates this. Hates everything. He wishes he could reach right through the camera and caress his lover’s face.
For all the years they’ve been together, Seokmin and Jisoo haven’t always been together in the same place but the distance between his office and his apartment now seems longer than it should. With this job, he hasn’t always been making the trip back home, instead staying at a smaller apartment closer to the office for convenience, but it’s been taxing for his heart to only see Jisoo on weekends.
He doesn’t care if the office is two hours away. He’s already making plans to come home to take care of Jisoo right now. Especially when he knows Jisoo is internally cursing at himself for being needy or whatever needless reason that insecurity has conjured up in his mind.
“Hey beautiful,” he tries again. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”
“I’m gonna come kiss you better”, he jokes, “You’ll be sick of me instead.” There's an awkward silence before Hansol speaks on behalf of everyone in the bathroom.
“Wow hyung, that was really lame.”
“Shush now. I think office work is making me stupid.” Seokmin frowns at him.
“Haven't you always been like that?” Seungkwan rolls his eyes, and pats Jisoo's cheek lightly. “Aigoo, my poor hyung, stuck with my other idiot hyung. Shall I get rid of him for you?”
Seokmin pouts. “Aein, my dongsaengs are bullying me.”
The reaction he gets is not what he’s expecting. Instead of a grimace or smile at their banter, Jisoo's face crumples and from out of frame, Seungkwan's hand immediately snatches up a square of tissue to dab the tears that run down his cheeks. Hansol's hand runs reassuring circles on his back as Jisoo shivers and looks down into his lap away from the camera. Jisoo must really be in a bad way if he doesn't even laugh at this. It sobers Seokmin up like a slap to the face.
“Hang in there, baby. I'll be home soon okay? I love you, aein.” He coos, and Jisoo hums noncommittally, shuffling away to grip the edge of the toilet again, hand clamped over his mouth. Hansol scrambles up to support him and Seungkwan toggles the camera off just as Seokmin hears him gag. He winces, rubbing at his elbow through his shirt. It’s started to ache again.
“Kwannie, I'll take a few days off tomorrow, but can you look after him for me for now? I'll be home in four hours at the latest.”
“We'll take good care of him.”
Faintly, Seokmin hears Jisoo cough again, then retch. Hansol jumps to reassure him, the words echoing in the background. There's a muted commotion as they try to help Jisoo and Seokmin's elbow throbs in timing to the wet coughs Jisoo makes.
From out of frame, Seokmin hears Jisoo rasp his name, and that is the final straw. He stands in his small cubicle, shoving his things into his tote and zipping it up. He barely remembers to turn the computer off before he’s leaving the office, phone in hand as he fires off a text to his boss.
The call is still playing in the background of his phone. He hears Hansol soothe Jisoo, and his face dampens so quickly he has no time to stop the tears from slipping out. Seungkwan reappears after what seems like an eternity. “I'll try to get him to keep some meds down. I'll call you later, okay? Love you.”
“Love you.” Seokmin repeats as his heart sinks in his chest. He ends the call and manages to pull several favours to pass off his work. He’s glad to have such kind colleagues. He opens LINE after settling work, flagging a taxi down as he does. There's two text messages from Seungkwan.
He's okay. Gave him a shower and meds. Stopped throwing up already. If his fever gets any higher, I'll meet you at the hospital, but I think he'll be fine.
I think he just really misses you.
The last sentence makes Seokmin crush his phone against his chest. He has to fight the urge to dab at his own eyes for a moment, staring at the office buildings as they zoom by. He can make it home in three instead of four.
Seokmin makes it home in two. He struggles with the lock, and tosses his keys on the coffee table, instead of the cute Cinnamoroll tray Jisoo insists on keeping by the door. He shrugs off his blazer onto the dining chair and loosens his tie, pushing the bedroom door open with his socked feet.
“Aein? I'm here. Where's my baby?” He calls, before Seungkwan materialises from behind the door, shushing him with a hand over his mouth and tugging him out of the room. He closes the door with a gentle click behind him. Seokmin's heart beats like a jack rabbit in his own chest. “Is he okay? Should we head for the hospital?”
Seungkwan shakes his head. “We just got him to fall asleep. He's been delirious this whole time. Wouldn't settle or sleep.”
Before Seokmin can protest that this is more than just mildly concerning and probably requires a trip to the hospital, Seungkwan continues, gripping Seokmin's bad elbow. “We got him to keep down some fever reducers but he couldn't sleep. Was crying for you.” He can't look Seokmin in the eyes when he says this, looking down at his feet, like he's ashamed. Seokmin feels the ground is falling away from under him. The ache in his elbow is nothing compared to the pain between his ribs. He buries his head in his hands as Seungkwan pats his back.
“Take a shower, hyung. Then go to him. And put an ice pack on that elbow, you haven't bent your arm since you came in here.” Numbly, Seokmin lets Seungkwan wrap his arms around him in a comforting embrace for a moment, sinking into it. He’s been all nerves all the way home and has admittedly weeped a little on the ride home thinking about Jisoo. A shower would help.
Seokmin resigns himself to the fastest shower of his life and towels off. He doesn't even bother drying his hair, just runs it over with the damp towel and steps into the bedroom. Hansol is patting Jisoo's shoulder the way a mother would soothe her child to sleep. Jisoo's a small shape under his duvet, curled in on himself, with a small trash bin on the nightstand. Seokmin's heart feels like it's about to spill out between his ribs. He mouths his thanks wordlessly to Hansol, who nods and slips off the bed to join Seungkwan outside as Seokmin crawls onto the king-size.
He reaches for Jisoo, tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear. It's soft with lavender shampoo, he notes. Jisoo doesn't stir, so Seokmin takes this as his cue to caress his cheek gently, sighing. Jisoo's skin burns under his hand. His lashes are tacky with tears, which Seokmin thumbs at and wipes on his own shirt. Longing has clearly never met Lee Seokmin. He would cross oceans for this man. Throw anything down. Do anything. Everything.
Distantly, he remembers a phrase his mom said to him, when he was much younger, before Jisoo. The time without Jisoo seems so small compared to all the time Seokmin’s been alive that it’s almost laughable.
“Love is felt most when it’s leaving.” Seokmin studies Jisoo’s face with blurry vision, not being able to hold the tears back now that he’s face to face with Jisoo. The enormity of his yearning for his favourite person in the world hits him with little refrain. He reaches over to press a kiss to his burning forehead, taking a moment to breathe in Jisoo’s scent. His heart aches something fierce and indescribable.
“I miss you, aein.” He confesses in a whisper. “Love you. So much. I'm sorry.” He smoothes over the wrinkled duvet and crawls over to tuck himself gently beside Jisoo, laying his head on the pillow beside him. He doesn't even fall asleep, just holds him close. He might be imagining it but Jisoo relaxes in his sleep in his arms. He just gathers him closer. He’ll tell Jisoo that he misses him again when he’s awake.
~
Seokmin takes leave from work for a whole two weeks. Jisoo makes a full recovery in a few days, and tries hard to do things on his own, even when Seokmin insists on doing them for him. The mundane bickering is the highlight of Seokmin’s days.
“I can water the plants, baby.”
“No. Why don’t you lie down and take a nap?” Seokmin refuses him firmly, pushing Jisoo gently backwards onto the couch.
“Aein, please, I’ve napped till noon.” Jisoo pleads, whines, begs, but to no avail.
“Are you hungry? I can cook.” Seokmin says without looking away from his daisies. Hmmm, they might be drowning...
“I’m going to cook right now.” Jisoo calls from the kitchen, annoyingly. Seokmin gasps in fake shock, throwing down the watering can and rattling the rack, earning a snicker from his boyfriend.
“Don’t you dare, Hong Jisoo!” Seokmin catches him from behind, pulling him back into the living room.
“Nooo,” Jisoo complains, dragging out the end. He’s gotten so much better, after laying in bed for the past three days. The colour has returned to his face, and he’s been able to eat more than just soup and rice. He struggles against Seokmin’s hold around his waist. In a brief moment of evil, he goes completely limp, sending them both stumbling into the couch. Seokmin, sweet boy, catches Jisoo’s head right before it crashes into the sofa arm and gives him a good bruise. Jisoo giggles, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around Seokmin and snuggle closer.
“Hi”, he says into the inches between them, chests heaving in the silence.
“Hi aein” The honey in Seokmin’s voice is so warm, Jisoo thinks his knees would’ve gone weak if he wasn’t already lying down. He’s so lucky, so blessed, to hear this fond voice every day. He wants to kiss this man into oblivion, love him into pieces, and keep every single piece locked inside his heart for safekeeping.
“Nap?” Jisoo suggests, kissing Seokmin, in between them catching their breaths.
“Sure, baby. Anything. You want.” Seokmin punctuates his words with kisses. Jisoo will be damned if he doesn’t lock this down for life. His heart bursts with tenderness for this silly, loving man. He already has a diamond band in the sock drawer, and while he wasn’t planning to fall sick, he was planning a good proposal, in Seokmin’s hometown, or LA, or anywhere Seokmin loves. A spring or summer wedding. Honeymoon in the Maldives. Anything Seokmin wants, really.
“Sleepy already, baby?” Seokmin hums when he notices Jisoo drifting off into his thoughts with a serene smile on his face.
Jisoo hums in approval, leaning in again to capture his boyfriend’s lips.
“I have a dream I want to make real.”