Work Text:
MOOD BOARD:
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It’s a little broken down, Seonghyeon notes.
The maroon paint is peeling off the body of the 1992 Hyundai Stellar GSL, exposing its grey metal beneath. Along the side, it’s marred with long scratches, and it’s also missing rim caps on three of the wheels and the headlights look foggy—but that’s not even the worst part.
The driver’s door is busted. Like, it physically cannot open, which must be breaking some kind of law.
But as unfortunate as this situation is for Seonghyeon, Keonho is the only one with a car.
Keonho swings the passenger door open and proceeds to crawl over the center console into the driver's seat. Seonghyeon can hardly believe his eyes. Once the blonde-haired man notices Seonghyeon's visible disbelief, he pats the passenger seat. "C'mon, I promise she won't bite!"
“Is that not illegal?” Seonghyeon asks, dumbfounded, while he slides inside, proceeding to buckle his seatbelt, which thankfully clicks into place. Next, he notices a conspicuous lack of cup holders, as if they just vanished off the face of the Earth.
Who the heck doesn’t have cup holders in their car? A madman, that’s who.
He's already starting to regret his decision to take Keonho up on his offer to drive. This is going to be the longest five-hour drive of his life.
“Eh, it’s low-key illegal.” The appalled look on Seonghyeon’s face makes Keonho chortle. “Dude, relax! The door’s not goin’ anywhere.” He pauses. “At least, let’s hope not.”
Then Keonho starts the car, and it rumbles to life with a loud gurgle.
Seonghyeon’s no car expert, but he’s fairly sure that’s not a good sound. How are they meant to safely drive across the country and back in this "low-key illegal" motorized death trap?
Accepting his fate, Seonghyeon sighs. "Just drive." He needs the pictures for his capstone portfolio, and if the only chauffeur available is a maniac driving a car on its last legs, then he'll brave the 350 kilometers of treacherous road.
This only adds to the many reasons why Seonghyeon and Keonho don’t hang out.
Keonho presses on the clutch, shifting the stick into first gear.
350 kilometers until they reach Namhae Island.
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330 kilometers.
By the time they leave Seoul, with Keonho switching gears (Seonghyeon still can’t believe that Keonho drives a manual), they miraculously merge onto what will be their longest stretch of highway.
It’s already past ten o’clock.
Seonghyeon’s slightly irritated. He wanted to arrive in Namhae earlier, but Keonho slept in that morning. He thinks back to what Keonho texted him, when Seonghyeon had been waiting for over an hour to get picked up.
sorry i slept in lol
last nite was crazyyyy
were you at that party too? i dont remember seeing you
anyway, grabbing snacks for the road!
That may or may not be why he greeted Keonho with a cold shoulder when the blonde finally pulled himself out of bed and decided to come pick him up. Keonho's only response was: “Geez, who pissed in your cereal?”
And this is trivial knowledge that Keonho does not need to know, but Seonghyeon doesn’t go to parties—not like Keonho does. Seonghyeon’s ideal night is getting ahead of homework so he can lie in bed, worry-free, and read a book about Greek mythology or Claude Monet.
It isn’t all that surprising that they rarely interact apart from their shared friend group. But even then, Seonghyeon usually sticks to James’ side, and Keonho’s closer with Juhoon and Martin.
That’s just how it works between them. Sharing the same air, but breathing in the opposite direction.
It’s starting to get uncomfortably hot in the car.
Seonghyeon soon discovers that the A/C isn’t working because when he goes to turn it on, he gets blasted with more hot air.
“Holy shit!” Keonho jerks the wheel, swerving as if they’re not in the middle of traffic. “Why’d you turn the heater on?!”
"I didn’t! I wanted air conditioning—yah, focus on the road!”
Keonho evens out his steering and grumbles, “There’s no A/C. Maybe you should’ve asked first before turning random dials.”
"Didn’t realize I needed to ask permission before turning on air conditioning in 30-degree weather.”
“Well, now you know.” Keonho smirks like he didn't just almost cause an accident. “And maybe it’s time I tell you that I’ve only had my license for two months, so it might be in your best interest not to distract the driver.”
"How lovely.”
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300 kilometers.
Even though it’s hot, the vibes are off, and Seonghyeon is perpetually glaring out the window at the passing trees and cattle, Keonho still pipes up in a cheery tone.
“There’s a binder of CDs by your feet. Pick whichever one you like.”
The traffic has died down, so they both can finally relax. Keonho slumps in his seat, loosening his grip on the wheel now that the closest car ahead of them is several hundred feet away.
Seonghyeon has never truly feared for his life until today. But sure enough, he finds the binder. It's heavy, the pages packed with a bunch of oldies, including folk, trot, and jazz.
“These are great,” Seonghyeon says in modest surprise. He slips a folk album into the CD player, flinching when music actually spills out. Part of him was expecting the car to combust, rejecting the disc as if he were feeding broccoli to a child.
“Of course you have the music taste of a grandpa,” Keonho comments, but there’s no malice in his voice. Seonghyeon shoots him a scornful look anyway. “My taste is more white girl trash.”
That might be the most normal thing that’s come out of Keonho’s mouth over the past 50 kilometers.
“What is white girl trash, like—”
“Sabrina, Charli, Taylor, One Direction,” Keonho starts listing off.
“Oh, god. That is, like, the pumpkin spice latte of the music industry.”
“I know,” he responds with a toothy smile. “Can’t help what I like, you know?”
“Do you like anything from our country?”
Keonho pauses for a second, jutting his lower lip in a pout. “Hm, I really like Lee Sun-Hee and Fly To The Sky.”
“Those are good.” Seonghyeon nods. He was half-expecting Keonho to list off a number of K-pop groups. “Lee Sun-Hee was my mom's favorite singer."
“So what you're telling me is... I have your mom's music taste, and you like my gramps’ music? This used to be his car and those are his CDs, if you weren’t aware.” Keonho glances at Seonghyeon with a sideways grin. “Wow, look at us, Seonghyeon. We’re already learning so much about each other.”
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250 kilometers.
They stop in Sejong for gas because, of course, Keonho forgot to fill it before they left.
“Just gives us an opportunity to peruse the convenience store,” Keonho says offhandedly, and Seonghyeon grumbles to himself. Didn’t Keonho already bring a plethora of snacks? The space where the cup holders should be is instead crammed with Strawberry Pocky, Choco Pies, and Sun Chips.
By the time Keonho exits the convenience store with two cartons of banana milk in his hands and baggy skater jeans riding low on his hips, Seonghyeon has already finished pumping the gas.
Keonho offers one to him. “Thanks for paying for the gas. I would’ve, but I’m kind of broke.”
Seonghyeon accepts the drink and brushes off the comment with a shrug. “You’re the one driving me.” In other words: I don’t give a shit.
He opens the passenger car door, letting Keonho slip in first. The fact that Keonho has been driving his grandfather’s beaten-up and legally unsafe Hyundai for two months straight will never fail to amaze him.
The blonde gets his leg caught while crossing over the center console, spilling a few drops of his banana milk on his Fleetwood Mac tee—Seonghyeon’s almost positive that Keonho doesn’t listen to any rock bands.
“Ah, shit! This was a new shirt!”
Sighing, Seonghyeon shakes his head. This whole situation is like an impending train wreck, and all he can do is watch it crash and burn.
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200 kilometers.
Turns out, Keonho does listen to Fleetwood Mac.
Cheeks red from straining his voice, Keonho belts out the lyrics from the album Rumours, a CD he himself apparently bought.
Unfortunately, Seonghyeon knows the songs by heart from the many times his mom played it for him growing up, so he has to join in based on principle alone. His singing is exceptionally lackluster compared to Keonho’s wild theatrics, though.
It's a little fun, Seonghyeon must admit.
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170 kilometers.
Keonho turns down the music.
“So… photography?” The blonde starts in a curious tone, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What made you choose it?”
“I like it.”
“Obviously you like it,” Keonho groans. “Give me an interesting answer—like, what does it make you feel? What do you see that others don’t?" He gestures, waving his hand around. "Paint me a picture.”
Is Keonho actually interested, or is he just asking to make conversation? Somehow, Seonghyeon suspects that Keonho isn’t the type of person to ask questions that don’t interest him.
“Well, I like art. I always have.” He pauses in thought. “I like the wait, too. Lining up the camera and waiting for the perfect shot—“
“You like waiting?” Keonho asks incredulously, glancing back and forth between the road and Seonghyeon.
“Yes, Keonho. There’s an art to patience.”
Seonghyeon is sure that the word patience doesn’t exist in Keonho’s dictionary. Considering that Keonho is the most impatient person he knows, he's surprised that Keonho even offered to drive for five hours straight. What do you have to gain from this, Keonho?
“When I take a picture, it’s like a snapshot of my mind. The photo explains itself better than I ever could.” Keonho hurries him with the flick of his wrist, and Seonghyeon shoots him a pointed look. “And I like waiting to come across something rare and beautiful, like… the stillness of a hummingbird or the ocean glowing from bioluminescence. Or, right before the sun sets, there’s a green flash that lasts for only a second or two. Most people have no idea that that phenomenon exists unless I show them my picture. That's why I love photography.”
The car is quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the murmur of Fleetwood Mac.
Seonghyeon worries that he overshared.
“Huh,” is all Keonho says.
Huh?
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120 kilometers.
Seonghyeon doesn't even know what Keonho's major is. Partly, it’s because the younger man has already changed majors twice, and Seonghyeon quickly lost interest in keeping track.
But now he feels guilty—not only because he doesn’t know Keonho’s major, but because he knows almost nothing about him. He has no idea if Keonho has any siblings, or where Keonho grew up, or what Keonho even likes to do besides listening to white girl trash.
“I wanted to make sculptures—realized it’s too fucking hard and takes too long. Then I wanted to be a fashion designer, but turns out I know next to nothing about fashion, so I scrapped that idea. Then a painter—I liked painting, but oil and acrylic wasn’t for me. And swimming will always be my favorite sport, but it’s not a lifelong career.”
Keonho glances at Seonghyeon for a split second. He continues, “But then I discovered I really liked animation. Like, I'm convinced it might be the coolest thing on this planet. I thought it was just the kid in me who liked cartoons, but no, something clicked when I made my first flip book.”
Oh.
Keonho sounds... passionate.
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to graduate next year since I took too long deciding my major, but at least I found my calling in life, right?”
Seonghyeon would’ve never suspected that Keonho’s graduating a year late.
Does everyone in their friend group know that Keonho found his passion, and it's just Seonghyeon who never paid attention? Has Seonghyeon been so caught up in his photography, preferring solitude instead of company, that he simply never noticed Keonho before?
“It’s better to keep trying something new rather than sticking with something you hate.”
“Exactly!” Keonho agrees with a smile that transforms his whole face, making his eyes crinkle. “See? You understand. My family back home tells me I’m making a big mistake every chance they get. Gramps is the only one who supports me.”
“Is that why he gave you a car with a busted door?” Seonghyeon pokes, recalling Keonho's story of the collision that broke his grandfather’s car door.
Keonho doesn't respond with a good-natured quip like Seonghyeon was expecting.
“Okay, don’t get mad,” Keonho starts, and Seonghyeon sits a little taller. “I might’ve lied about how the door got busted.”
Why is he not surprised?
Seonghyeon pinches the bridge of his nose, and a sigh escapes his lips. “Just tell me, dude.”
“Okay, so, technically, it wasn’t my fault.” The way Keonho says it makes it sound like it was totally his fault. “But I might’ve parked my car beside a demolition site with a bunch of caution tape and a sign that said something like, ‘Hazard—blah blah blah—falling objects.’ But seriously, who would think that some large concrete brick would fall and break the hinges on my door?”
Keonho starts to sputter once he realizes that Seonghyeon is eyeing him with the harshest look of disapproval. “Honestly, th-the city should be glad I didn’t sue! What if I was there? I could’ve died!”
“You had a sign explicitly telling you not to park there, and you did.”
“I was going to be late for a concert! That was the last parking spot I could find!”
“I don’t think that was a parking spot, Keonho.”
“It was dark!”
"You have only been driving for two months, Keonho. Two months. How could you be so…” He knows calling Keonho stupid is mean, and really, Seonghyeon’s opinion probably doesn’t mean crap to him. So he shuts his mouth.
“Whatever.” Keonho puffs his cheeks and turns up the music. “Let’s just drive in silence.”
“You’re playing music,” he deadpans.
“Are you always so technical about everything?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Damn, you're so boring.”
Seonghyeon clenches his jaw. Every sign in the universe is telling him that he and Keonho will never get along—that they're simply too different.
He's not sure why that disappoints him.
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100 Kilometers.
Compared to Seonghyeon, Keonho is light-years ahead in popularity. That much he knows. Keonho goes to parties often, gets mentioned on Instagram practically every hour, and draws eyes everywhere he goes.
So why is Keonho here with Seonghyeon, who's been coined the loner—the quiet guy?
“Sorry for calling you boring, by the way. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Seonghyeon shrugs. “It’s not like you’re wrong.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Keonho's grip tighten on the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about it. It’s cool.”
“I’m not trying to be rude—I just want to get to know you, you know?”
No, Seonghyeon does not know.
“Why Namhae Island?”
Can Keonho not stay quiet for a second?
“What do you mean ‘why?’”
“Like, is there a specific reason you had to go there? Why not any other island? And why does it have to be an island?”
“It doesn’t have to be an island—just Namhae.”
“But why?”
“Because…" Seonghyeon shoves his hands into his jeans pockets. "It was my mom’s favorite place.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Is she…” Keonho cringes.
The air starts to feel heavy.
“Alive?” Seonghyeon asks.
Keonho nods.
“No, she passed away four years ago.”
“Shit.” Keonho's silent for a few seconds. “That sucks, man.”
Typically, when Seonghyeon tells someone that his mom is dead, the other party responds with something like, "I'm sorry for your loss," and then it gets awkward. But evidently, Keonho isn't someone who forces out phrases like that.
That draws a snort from Seonghyeon. Something about the way Keonho speaks is sort of nice. It feels real, at least.
“Tell me about her.”
Seonghyeon looks at Keonho for a long moment. This time, he truly looks at him.
Chiseled jawline, a few moles, full lips, wavy, blonde hair, and eyes that are too expressive for his own good. He'd be blind if he didn’t think Keonho is handsome.
“She was my best friend.”
And so Seonghyeon begins telling Keonho about his mother.
Keonho doesn't lose interest for a second.
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20 kilometers until Namhae
Surprisingly, the last hour of the drive passes in a blur. Maybe it's because Keonho talked his ear off for most of it.
The second they cross the bridge connecting the mainland to Namhae Island, Seonghyeon rolls down the window—another miracle that the window actually works—and they’re immediately bombarded with the saltiness of the air.
Surrounding them are green, sprawling hills and rocky mountain ranges that dip into the ocean.
Seonghyeon is so happy to be back.
“Should we head to the motel and check in, or do you wanna take pictures first?”
Seonghyeon hums, his eyes softening as he takes in the familiar scenery. “Pictures, please.”
“Alright, tell me when to pull over.”
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Namhae Island.
Keonho sprints ahead, passing Seonghyeon in a blur, feet kicking up the sand. He stops in front of the ocean, holds up his hands to his mouth, and shouts, “Ahn Keonho and Eom Seonghyeon have made it!”
A small smile twitches at Seonghyeon’s mouth. Keonho is a little ridiculous. With his camera slung around his neck, Seonghyeon lifts it to his eye, watching Keonho through the lens.
He takes a picture without thinking.
“Whoa! Look how green the water is—so pretty!”
Seonghyeon crouches, getting a better angle of the emerald wave crashing against the shore, while Keonho spins around and points at Seonghyeon, a smile brighter than the sun spreading across his face.
“Hey! Are you taking pictures of me?”
Seonghyeon blinks.
“I thought you don’t photograph people.”
“I don’t.”
Usually, Seonghyeon finds beauty elsewhere—in nature, in the sky, in pieces of artwork. He rarely uses a person as his main subject, unless it was required for a class project. But how does Keonho know that?
“Don’t be shy. You can take pictures of me, Seonghyeon.”
Seonghyeon narrows his eyes at the other man’s teasing tone.
“You’re in the way of the shot,” Seonghyeon says. An excuse.
“Rude," Keonho clicks his tongue. "But fine, I’ll move out of the way. I don’t want to get in the way of your genius.”
My genius?
Has Keonho ever seen one of Seonghyeon’s pictures before?
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They head to one of Namhae’s historical villages after that, parking the car further down the road due to a lack of parking spots (Seonghyeon gives Keonho shit for the concrete brick incident again).
They get out, and Keonho immediately questions, “Why are all the roofs red? It looks very European.”
Seonghyeon laughs at the blonde's blunt tone. “You know how thousands of South Korean workers were sent to Germany in the 60s?”
Keonho shakes his head, marveling at the architecture with wide eyes. Red-paneled houses dot a steep, grassy hillside, with cobblestone roads curving in and out of the village. At the bottom of the hill, the land levels out into lines of docks and sailboats, stretching out into the sea.
“This village was built for the people who came back home to retire with their German spouses. That’s why the village looks European—so that they’d feel comfortable.”
Keonho’s mouth drops in awe, and Seonghyeon smiles. “There’s a restaurant that serves authentic bratwurst, if you want to try?”
“What?” Keonho whips his head toward Seonghyeon. “Is that like a hot dog?”
“No,” Seonghyeon drawls as he starts walking. “It’s better.”
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“Ah! Hot, hot, hot!”
“Let it cool, Keonho. It just came off the grill.”
Keonho fans his burning tongue.
Seonghyeon snaps a picture, then laughs at the expression he captured.
“Hey, if you’re going to keep taking my picture, let me know ahead of time so that I can look cool.”
“That would defeat the purpose of a candid shot.”
“I don’t want a candid if I look ugly.”
“You don’t look ugly,” Seonghyeon says—maybe he shouldn’t have.
Keonho looks down, a small smile pulling at his lips.
The restaurant they’re in is a close replica of a German tavern. Seonghyeon remembers coming here with his mother a handful of times, watching in awe as she conversed with the workers in perfect German.
“Wow, this is actually good!” Keonho says once the meat finally cools enough for him to take a bite.
“See?”
“You were right, Seonghyeon. This is, like—” he chews around a mouthful of stroganoff “—super authentic.”
Seonghyeon grunts, “Thought you didn’t know what a bratwurst was.”
“I said hot dog—close enough.”
“You just angered the entire country of Germany with that statement.”
A giggle forces its way out of Keonho’s body, and Seonghyeon decides right then that he likes the sound.
“So, what made your mom like Namhae?” Keonho asks halfway through their meal.
Seonghyeon glances at the blonde-haired man, who is now picking up grilled onions with his bare hands and slurping them down.
“She studied abroad in Germany for her senior year of high school and fell in love with the culture.”
“Ah,” Keonho hums, nodding. “That makes sense. Did she ever take you there too?”
Seonghyeon stills.
With a tight chest, he swallows before answering, “No, uh, she was sick for most of my childhood. It would’ve been too much on her body to travel internationally.”
“I see.” Keonho smiles at him—not in a way that screams pity—but a genuine, real smile. “Then Namhae must mean a lot to you.”
Laughter erupts from the surrounding tables, drinks slide across the bar, and lively music plays through the speakers. Somehow, all of it fades when Seonghyeon looks at Keonho.
“Can I take your picture?” he finds himself asking. Don't be weird, Seonghyeon.
“I thought you took candids only.” But Keonho doesn't look weirded out. He wags his brows, leaning forward with a hand on his chin, already striking a pose. “Go on, take your picture.”
“No.” Seonghyeon’s throat feels dry all of a sudden. “I mean, for real this time. I know some good spots.”
Keonho's mouth opens a few times. “Oh, shit. Does that mean you want to use me for your portfolio?”
Maybe.
Maybe not.
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“Fuck yeah! Are you kidding?” Keonho beams, bright and handsome. “Take me wherever, position me however—whatever you desire, I’ll be your favorite subject—I promise.”
➶-͙˚ ༘✶
“How come I never see you at any party?”
Seonghyeon lowers his camera and frowns at Keonho, who is leaned against a lamppost. Behind him is a hill full of dozens of rice paddies, rocky cliffs, and the emerald sea. The sun begins to dip lower, flooding the sky with shades of orange and purple.
They’ve been taking pictures for a while now, just talking about anything that came to mind—well, it was mostly Keonho who did the talking.
“I don’t like parties,” Seonghyeon answers simply.
“Lame,” Keonho comments, and Seonghyeon's about to glare until Keonho opens his mouth again. “It’d be fun to have you around.”
“Oh.”
“I noticed you only come when James hyung is there, but even then, you’re, like, glued to his side the whole night. Makes it hard for anyone to approach you, you know?”
“Again, I don’t like parties—”
“Are you two dating?”
“Uh, wh-what?” Seonghyeon’s eyes widen. “Me and…?”
“James,” Keonho finishes with a nod. His face is infuriatingly unreadable.
"No, we're not. He’s straight.”
Keonho snorts. “Okay,” he begins in a pointed tone, “would you date him if he wasn’t straight?"
If you had asked Seonghyeon that two years ago, he might’ve answered yes. But now, he shakes his head. “Nah, he’s like a brother to me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” Seonghyeon answers flatly. “Why are you asking me this?”
Keonho shrugs. “You just act like a lost puppy whenever he’s not around. I thought you liked him for years. Martin and I used to have a running bet on when you’d eventually confess.”
“Oh my god—”
“I won, if you’d like to know.”
“I hate everything about this conversation.” But then Seonghyeon narrows his eyes. “How did you win? I never confessed to him.”
“Ah ha!” Keonho shouts with a victorious grin, pointing his finger at a confused Seonghyeon. “So you did like him!”
Seonghyeon gapes. “Did… did you just lie to my face about a fake bet—you did, didn't you?”
“Yes and no.” Keonho’s expression is too coy for Seonghyeon’s liking. “I proposed the bet to Martin, but Martin was too chicken to lose his money.”
Seonghyeon rolls his eyes, and he drones, “Sounds like Martin knows self-preservation. You could learn a thing or two from him.”
“You’re not even going to ask what my bet was?”
“I don’t want to know.”
Keonho pouts, but he lets it go.
After a few minutes, they walk along a cobblestone path back to the village. The sky grows dimmer, dusk fading to twilight as a row of lanterns come to life and light their steps.
Seonghyeon has one more scenic spot in mind before they head to the motel to check in.
Along the way, Keonho asks curiously, “Is this our first time hanging out one-on-one?”
He's asking that question about ten hours too late.
Seonghyeon shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”
“Shit, man, I don’t remember. Was I drunk?”
“No.” Seonghyeon chuckles. “It was freshman year—first semester, I think. We had that art history class together, remember?” Suddenly, Keonho stops in his tracks. Seonghyeon turns around, giving Keonho a once-over. “You good?”
“Huh?” Keonho snaps out of his daze. “Yeah, uh.” He forces a laugh. “I didn’t realize you knew I existed back then, is all.”
Seonghyeon frowns. Keonho might be the most popular guy at school; how can he not know who he is? “Of course I did. We literally had a project together.”
“Yeah, but, like, you never even waved back to me in the hallway. And right after we submitted that project, you stopped sitting next to me in class.”
“Oh.” That sounds… mean. Had Seonghyeon been unknowingly giving Keonho the cold shoulder since freshman year? “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”
“What else do you remember about me from back then?”
“Uh, I don’t know. You were… friends with everyone.” Seonghyeon pauses to think, trying to recall something from three years ago. “Every time we spoke, someone else would cut in, or you’d get dragged away, and I just kind of… gave up, I guess?”
“Damn.”
There's a long pause, and just when Seonghyeon thinks that's the end of the conversation, a breeze carries Keonho's soft-spoken words to him.
“I wish I had done things a bit differently.”
What do you mean?
“Anyway,” Keonho lets out a dramatic sigh, stretching his arms above his head, “where’s our next stop?”
➶-͙˚ ༘✶
Moonlight reflects off the still water of the wishing pond, and coins shine beneath the surface. Around the rocks, clusters of azaleas are in full bloom.
Keonho sits off to the side, his arms resting on his knees and his head tilted to the side as if he's in deep thought. His skin looks cool and luminous beneath the moonlight, his blonde hair pearlescent, and the moon shimmers in his half-lidded eyes.
Seonghyeon’s never seen a person look so ethereal, pensive, and vibrant all at once.
Unattainable is a word that fits Keonho, he decides. It's like trying to grab water. Eventually, Keonho slips away, drifting to wherever his heart goes next, no matter how hard you try to hold onto him.
The result is a breathtaking, enchanting photo.
“Can I see?”
Seonghyeon nods and turns the camera to Keonho, who jumps up to take a look. “Still needs editing, but this is the photo—”
“Whoa! Screw animation, I should become a model!” Keonho looks up at Seonghyeon with a bright smile. “In all seriousness, this is pretty cool, Seonghyeon. If you sent this to a competition, you’d probably win first place.”
Keonho's just trying to flatter him. “Sure, man.” Seonghyeon places the lens cap back on the camera. “We should probably check into the motel now. It’s getting late.”
“You’re talented, Seonghyeon,” Keonho says, the most serious he’s sounded this whole trip. “Don’t forget that.”
➶-͙˚ ༘✶
“Congrats.” The housekeeper speaks in the flattest tone ever, which is probably their fault for checking in so late. “We overbooked the room you reserved, so you’ve been upgraded to the suite—yay.”
Stunned, Keonho's brows furrow. “Wait—motels have suites now?”
They drive a little further down the road to reach the separate lodge, and Keonho parks right in front of their door.
Turns out, the suite in question is nothing like what Seonghyeon reserved.
“Did she forget that I booked a room with two beds? This is a mistake—should I go back and ask?” Seonghyeon worries as they stand in the doorway to their room. He turns on his heels, ready to dart straight back outside into the night, but Keonho grabs his elbow. His touch does something funny to Seonghyeon’s stomach.
“Chill, it’s just one night. I don’t mind sharing.”
Yeah, well, Seonghyeon does. “I’ll take the floor.”
“You are not sleeping on the floor,” Keonho objects with a baffled laugh. “That’s insanity. Just share with me.”
Seonghyeon hesitates. He shakes off Keonho’s hand. “I don’t like sharing.”
“Okay…” Keonho looks around, taking in the sorry, dingy state of their motel room, eyeing the dirty floor that's covered with suspicious stains, and sighs. “Fine, I will take the floor.”
“No, wait—whatever, we can share.”
Keonho grins at him. “Good thinking, Hyeonie.”
Seonghyeon’s nose scrunches at the nickname. He watches Keonho sling his bag onto the bed, apparently already claiming the side closest to the door. That's when he realizes that Keonho had zero intention of sleeping on the floor. “You’re insufferable.”
“I know how to get what I want,” Keonho counters while dumping the contents of his backpack onto the bed. He searches around the items until he finds what he wants, letting out a cheer. “I knew I brought it!”
“What is it?” Seonghyeon rounds the bed, placing his own bag on a beige chair that looks like it hasn't been cleaned in the last ten years—he grimaces at the thought.
“It’s a card game, a road trip essential. Supposed to help you get closer with whoever you play with.”
“Does it?”
“I don’t know.” He tosses it to Seonghyeon, who almost fumbles the catch. “Want to give it a try?”
Seonghyeon inspects the cover of the game: Spice it Up! With a diagram of two stick figures riding each other.
“Dude, this looks like it’s meant for couples.”
“Oh, shit. No wonder Juhoon gave me a weird look when I borrowed it,” Keonho says with an unbothered grin.
“Ew, does he and Martin play this?”
“They’re too busy fucking every time I try to hang out with them, so yeah, probably.”
“Thanks, I did not need to know that.”
Keonho smirks. “You’re welcome. So?”
“So what?”
“Are we playing?”
“No.”
Keonho instantly whines, “Boo! C’mon, have fun with me!”
“I don’t see how playing a game that our perverted friends use to spice up their sex lives is considered fun."
“We don’t have to take it seriously. Let’s just laugh and make fun of the questions—this shit is probably hilarious.”
Keonho has a point. Maybe Seonghyeon is a tiny bit curious.
“I see you considering it.”
“Whatever.”
➶-͙˚ ༘✶
The cards come in three levels of intensity: mild, medium, and extreme.
“What’s one thing that people would be surprised to learn about you?” Seonghyeon asks, reading off a mild card.
They sit across from each other on the bed. Keonho had merely pushed his discarded items, including clothing, hair products, and other random items, to the foot of the bed.
“This is boring. Let’s skip right to the spicy stuff.”
“No,” Seonghyeon says earnestly, surprising himself, “I want to hear your answer.”
Keonho puffs his cheeks, then groans once he realizes Seonghyeon wouldn’t budge. “Ah, fine, um. Let’s see… what would be surprising?” He taps a finger on his lips, and in the next few seconds, his eyes light up. “Well, I’m not as superficial as most people think. I don’t just want one-night stands. I want something that’s real and more than just sex... And I’d rather be in my pajamas, having a movie marathon with my friend, than put on a pair of leather pants and get drunk at some random party.”
Yesterday, if Keonho had told him that he wasn't as superficial as Seonghyeon had initially assumed, he might've been surprised. However, after spending the past ten-plus hours together, Seonghyeon knows that's couldn't be further the truth.
“I’m not surprised,” Seonghyeon says because he wants to.
“Well, the question didn’t state that you had to be surprised,” Keonho quips. His eyes linger on Seonghyeon for a beat longer. “But thanks.”
“Mm, it's your turn now.”
“Okay… Would you rather have a personal chef or—nope, this is boring, I’m grabbing a spicier card.” He plucks one from the medium category, and his eyes scan the words before he snorts. “This is better. Okay, when was your last wet dream and describe it in vivid detail.”
“I’m not answering that.”
“You have to; the card says so!”
“I thought we weren’t taking this seriously.”
“We’re not—you want me to answer instead?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Okay, well, that’s one point for me.”
“Is this a competition now?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Keonho answers with a glint in his eye. “Winner gets one favor from the other person. If you don’t answer, the other person gets a point. First to five wins?”
This is so stupid.
“Sure.”
➶-͙˚ ༘✶
“What would you rather see me in, sexy lingerie or your oversized T-shirt with nothing underneath—sorry, there’s no way Martin and Juhoon take this seriously.”
“I beg to disagree; I think they take this very seriously. And as much as I’d like the sexy lingerie, I’ll have to go with the T-shirt option,” Keonho finishes with a wink.
Seonghyeon is almost positive that his face is red by now.
“One point until I win. Should we wrap this up with the highest difficulty?” Seonghyeon shakes his head, but Keonho is already grabbing for the deck they had neglected. “How about this, if you can complete just one of these cards, then you win automatically.”
Seonghyeon raises a brow. “Why go easy on me?” He has every reason to question Keonho when the blonde-haired man has proven time and time again that he can't be trusted.
“Oh, trust me, these cards are anything but easy. Like, they get super explicit.”
Seonghyeon's about to roll his eyes at the comment until he halts—“Wait, I thought you’ve never played this before. You said you borrowed it.”
Keonho’s hands freeze while shuffling the deck. He looks at Seonghyeon for a beat before quickly looking away. “I might’ve peeked at it.”
“What?”
“Just, you know, in case,” the younger man mumbles, fidgeting with the cards.
That’s it. Keonho is a compulsive liar, a fraud, and Seonghyeon is done entertaining him.
“What the fuck, Keonho?”
“Sorry, I thought it’d be funny!”
“Forcing me to answer weird sexual questions is not funny!”
“Okay, okay. I swear, I meant no harm! I just wanted to get to know you better.”
Crossing his arms, Seonghyeon huffs, “There are so many better ways to do that than whatever this is.”
“The game’s almost finished—one more card?”
Seonghyeon ignores the urge to curse at him.
After playing this for the past half hour, they’re now too deep into this rabbit hole. But also, Seonghyeon doesn’t want Keonho to think he can get under his skin so easily.
“Fine, but whatever happens, you don’t get a favor from me anymore.”
“Hey, I’m cool with bragging rights,” Keonho replies smoothly.
After a minute of Seonghyeon’s glaring and Keonho’s excessive shuffling, the blonde finally draws a card.
This will go down in history as the first time Seonghyeon truly saw Keonho flustered.
“Ah, so…” Keonho smacks his lips together, avoiding Seonghyeon's eyes. “Maybe I should pick a different card.”
“Ask it,” Seonghyeon demands, annoyance rising.
“You’re not going to do it, but sure.” Keonho clears his throat. “I have to point to five areas on my body, and you have to kiss each spot while telling me one thing you like about me.”
It's not the worst thing Keonho could've pulled. Actually, Seonghyeon might consider it tame. But judging by Keonho's deep blush, Seonghyeon knows this is only going to go one of two ways.
“Who the fuck writes these questions?” Seonghyeon ends up asking.
“I told you, you weren’t going to do it.” Keonho discards it and lies back on the bed, hands folded under his head, acting as if he’s already won.
“I never said I wouldn’t do it.”
Keonho immediately shoots straight back up, his eyes widening. He chokes, “Yuh-you—what?”
“Keonho, I’m not some scared virgin. It’s just kissing.”
“Okay.” Keonho frowns for a second. “You’re actually going to do it?”
“If that means I win, yeah.”
Then a grin pulls at Keonho’s lips. “Alright, I’m down.” With one swipe of his arm, he pushes the cards away, piling more clutter at the foot of the bed. Seonghyeon’s nose crinkles at the thought of how messy Keonho is. He prays he never sees the inside of Keonho's bedroom.
“I’ll be nice and start off easy.” Keonho inches closer to Seonghyeon, extending his hand with his wrist flexed. “Kiss my hand and tell me how cool I am.”
That pulls a laugh from Seonghyeon. “Sure.” He grabs the blonde’s warm hand, holding it for a moment. He breathes in deeply, and Keonho watches closely. “You’re cool, Keonho. I like how passionate you are about animating, and I think you’ll be great at it.” He presses his lips to Keonho’s hand, brushing his knuckles. Then he lets go.
Keonho fucking giggles. “Wow, Hyeonie, you must really like me.”
“Shut up, dude. I’m just playing the game.”
“Sure,” Keonho croons, a teasing grin on his lips. “How about…” He pulls up his shirt, hiking it above his chest.
Talk about a sleeper build; Keonho's appearance is incredibly deceiving. Because why the hell does he have the face of an angel and the body of a Greek god? Seonghyeon’s throat runs dry.
Keonho points at his abdomen. “Here.”
“Is this just an excuse for you to flex your abs?” Seonghyeon gripes, trying to stay composed, even though his face starts to burn.
“No,” Keonho lies, echoing him. “I’m just playing the game.”
Seonghyeon leans down, already cursing himself for letting him be put in this position. He kisses Keonho’s abdomen, appreciating the lean muscle, before saying, “I liked watching you swim.” It's so quiet, he hears Keonho’s breath catch.
“Hold on—you come to my competitions?”
Seonghyeon comes back up, and Keonho drops his shirt—good. “No, James dragged me to the finals last year.”
“Ah, so you liked seeing me lose spectacularly.”
“You were sick; you had an off day.” Seonghyeon shrugs. “I’ve seen videos. I know you’re good—better than anyone else on the school team.”
“Why, thank you.”
Seonghyeon shrugs again.
Then Keonho points to his neck, his voice dipping, “Tell me something else I don’t know.”
Seonghyeon swallows. Stay cool, he’s just trying to goad you. He leans forward, watching Keonho’s eyes darken before hovering over his neck. “I like your hair,” he breathes. “Blonde doesn’t suit most people, but it works on you.” He presses his lips against the pulse of Keonho’s neck, this time a bit firmer.
“Shit—I almost went back to brown before this trip. I’m so glad I didn’t.”
Seonghyeon pulls away. Their eyes meet.
“What other colors would you try?”
“Mint blue,” Keonho answers readily, and Seonghyeon chuckles.
“Mint blue—wouldn’t that just blend in with the water?”
“Oh my god, I didn't think of that!” Keonho gasps, and they promptly burst into laughter. “Oh fuck, that would look horrendous, wouldn't it? Maybe I should think of something else. What about orange?”
“Orange sounds just as awful, no.”
Keonho pouts. “You must only like blonde on me.”
“Hm, maybe.”
But Keonho grins, pointing his damn finger at his cheek now. He taps his cheek a few times. “Go ahead, Seonghyeon. Kiss me again.”
Because Seonghyeon can't help himself, he complains, “This is the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
“Hey,” Keonho chides, “if this is the worst thing that you’ve done, then you’re doing pretty good.”
They watch each other for a few seconds, just smiling.
This is... nice.
“Even though you lie,” Seonghyeon playfully shoots him a glare, “you’re nice to be around.”
“Why does that feel like a backhanded—”
Seonghyeon kisses his cheek, and Keonho freezes.
“You have an okay personality, I guess,” Seonghyeon teases, and pulls back. Keonho’s mouth has since dropped into a gape, his eyes wide. “Did the gears in your head stop working, Keonho? I’ve never seen you this quiet before—or this still.”
“I—” Keonho flounders for a few seconds before laughing, pushing a hand through his hair. He makes a blowing sound, “Pssht, I was just caught off guard! How can you say my personality is just okay, huh? I’m awesome.”
“Sure.”
They're at a standstill for a while. Keonho looks like he's contemplating what to do next.
Finally, Keonho points at his lips.
“Sorry, I want to win,” is what he says.
The air charges. There’s something challenging in Keonho's eye, like he’s daring Seonghyeon to do it.
Seonghyeon gulps. Should he just go for it—screw the consequences? What's the worst that can happen? It's not like he and Keonho are good friends; they're not risking years of friendship.
But maybe I want to be your friend, Keonho.
"Well? Are you going to do it, or do you admit defeat?"
"If I kiss you, can I ask you something?"
Keonho's eyes flicker across his face, and he raises his brows. "Is that your favor?"
Seonghyeon nods, and Keonho exhales. They're quiet for a moment.
"Kiss me, and you can ask whatever you want."
"You want me to—"
"Yes, so just do it already, Seonghyeon."
"So impatient."
"So boring," Keonho counters, but it's only to tease him. Their smiles widen.
Seonghyeon starts to lean in slowly, only a breath away, and he whispers, "You really are insufferable—you know that?"
Keonho licks his lips, his voice honey-smooth. "Is that what you like about me?"
"Maybe," Seonghyeon hums.
Keonho's gaze drops to Seonghyeon's mouth a few times, his eyes dark and intense, before they flutter shut in anticipation. He really is so damn beautiful.
Their lips brush, featherlight and gentle. Keonho's plush lips are even softer than Seonghyeon imagined.
What he doesn't expect is for Keonho to kiss him back.
"Ah—" A strangled sound tears from Seonghyeon's throat as Keonho grabs his face and surges forward.
Blood rushes to his head, and everything becomes unclear and foggy except for the warm slide of Keonho’s tongue.
Their heads tilt to deepen the kiss. At first, it’s hungry and urgent. Just rough tongues and mouths colliding.
Seonghyeon's hands instinctively travel to Keonho’s hair, fisting a handful of bleached locks. Keonho groans into his mouth, low and needy, before sucking in Seonghyeon's bottom lip between his own and nibbling gently at the soft flesh. Heat coils low in Seonghyeon’s gut.
They end up sprawled across the bed, sideways, with Seonghyeon's head almost falling off the edge. He doesn't mind, though. Not when Keonho is such a great kisser.
Seonghyeon melts when the kiss softens into something sweeter. Apart from the occasional moan, this is the quietest and most focused he has ever seen Keonho. Every movement of his mouth feels deliberate, careful, as though he’s determined to kiss Seonghyeon right. Like he’s been waiting forever to do so.
He thinks of Keonho in the car, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel; Keonho at the beach, shouting their names into the sea; Keonho burning his tongue on bratwurst, looking cute in the picture Seonghyeon captured; Keonho showing him the most genuine, mature side of himself whenever they brought up Seonghyeon's late mother; Keonho, handsome and enigmatic, who is kissing him so fervently. And suddenly, Seonghyeon can't believe they haven't been doing this much, much sooner.
"Shit, Hyeon, you're really hot, you know that?" Keonho's hands travel lower, grasping at parts of Seonghyeon that make him blush.
After ten minutes—or maybe it was 30 minutes, or an hour—they finally break apart.
Keonho leans above him, arms caging Seonghyeon in. Thankfully, they had moved farther up the bed, so now Seonghyeon has a nice, cushiony pillow to rest on.
"Well, princess, now tell me what you like about me," Keonho says with a smirk, leaving a kiss on Seonghyeon's nose. "Me being insufferable doesn't count, by the way."
Seonghyeon looks up at him. Keonho's handsome. He likes looking at his kiss-swollen pink lips, his thick eyebrows, his tan skin contrasting with his bleached blonde hair, and his sweet doe eyes. After spending the day with him, he also knows that he likes Keonho's laugh, the way he talks so carefree and passionately about everything, and how kind and unexpectedly considerate he is.
He knows what he likes about Keonho.
"I like you, Keonho. All of you."
➶-͙˚ ༘✶
They lie in bed for a while after, side by side, with one of Keonho's legs thrown over Seonghyeon. Eventually, their hands find their way back to each other.
"So, what's that favor you had in mind?" Keonho asks while playing with Seonghyeon's fingers.
They listen to the trees rustle outside the motel, the hum of the A/C unit on the wall, and their soft breaths mingling.
"Why'd you offer to drive me?" Seonghyeon sucks in a cheek, pondering for a second. "You didn't have to, and I don't think I offered you anything in return either."
For a fleeting moment, Keonho's silent. He seems to be reflecting on something. “To be honest, at first, I wanted to sleep with you.”
“What the actual fuh—”
“Wait, let me finish!” Keonho has a sheepish smile, and he squeezes Seonghyeon's hand. Even though Seonghyeon is this close to whacking the backside of his head, he lets Keonho continue. “We weren’t really good friends before this, so I thought, ‘why not?’ If we slept together, we wouldn’t be ruining something that wasn’t there to begin with. But then…” His smile grows softer. Warmer. “We spent the day together, and I quickly realized—hey, we might be good friends after all! At least, I want us to be.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, what do you think?”
What does Seonghyeon think? Well, he’s grasping for any thought and coming up empty-handed. Keonho just told him that he wanted to have sex with him.
“Only friends?” he settles on because he needs to know.
Keonho bites his lip. “Well, maybe I lied a little.”
Seonghyeon huffs, but this time it's good-natured. “Of course you did.” And maybe he's a little fond.
“I only lie when I’m nervous,” Keonho starts to ramble, “and it's you, you know? You always make me nervous, so…” His eyes grow hopeful, his smile small and pretty, and his fingers reach out to brush Seonghyeon’s hair. “More than friends?”
Seonghyeon hopes the kiss he gives Keonho suffices as an answer.
➶-͙˚ ༘✶
“We didn’t sleep together,” Keonho states in awe the morning after, in lieu of your typical "good morning." He stares at Seonghyeon like he'd been waiting hours for him to wake up. A little creepy, if you ask Seonghyeon.
Seonghyeon rubs his eyes, his voice deep and gravelly, “Good morning to you too, Keonho."
“Damn, you sound hot." Keonho gapes at him for a second before continuing, "But anyway, is that weird? Would you have wanted to?”
I wouldn't have been opposed.
“I’m not answering that.”
“I’m kind of glad, though.” Keonho scoots over, wrapping an arm around Seonghyeon’s waist, and Seonghyeon just lets him. He blames it on being tired, but secretly he knows that's a lie. “I’d much rather take my time with you, Hyeon. I want to get to know you first.”
“Oh, really?” Seonghyeon drawls, blinking slowly.
“Yeah,” Keonho murmurs, kissing his shoulder. “I want to know everything. Your favorite color, your favorite picture, whether you like sunsets or sunrises more, what you like to do during your free time—then all of your dislikes, too.” Keonho pulls away, then laughs, a shy, sweet sound. “Wow, now that I'm saying it out loud, I sound crazy."
“A little crazy," Seonghyeon agrees with a chuckle. "But... you do have the entire drive across South Korea to find out."
"Shit, I almost forgot about that. My car should not be allowed on the road."
"No, it really shouldn't." But Seonghyeon kisses his puffed cheek, smiling at this ridiculous, beautiful man. "You're cute, Keonho-ya."
Yesterday, if you had asked Seonghyeon what he thought about Keonho, he would've answered with three words: impatient, impulsive, and immature. But now Seonghyeon sees the full picture of the man he had misjudged, ignored, and written off for so many years.
Seonghyeon used to recognize beauty only behind a camera lens. Now, he realizes that there’s beauty in getting to know someone. Especially someone as radiant and enigmatic as Keonho.
And when they do eventually embark on their 350-kilometer journey home, Keonho makes sure to pull over at every scenic viewpoint, giving Seonghyeon ample time to take a picture. More often than not, Seonghyeon fills his camera roll with photos of blonde hair, pouty lips, and warm, smiling eyes.
When they jump back in the car, and the engine (thankfully) roars back to life, their hands naturally meet over the center console.
They end up learning quite a lot about each other during that drive back.