Work Text:
Sieun was in over his head again. At his desk, with his lamp turning the room into a dull blue, pen in his hand, eyes glazed over.
It has been like this everyday for the past few months.
He would stare into the false lines etched across his wooden desk, feverishly thinking he could find some epiphany in the shape of them. This night, his tongue felt even drier than usual, sitting heavy in his mouth like a handful of cotton.
The lines blurred. He could feel the threat of tears forming at the back of his eyes, he could feel them fill over the rims of his eyes, but that was all there was to it. The tiredness, the apathy, would draw them back in, and the staring would continue – dryly, without any fixed goal. It was just the motions of these past months, and he had become used to them. At least 30 minutes of this filling out the darkest hours, and then a few desperate clicks of his pen to snap back to the present and continue studying.
This was not how it was supposed to go. Things were supposed to get better, feel better, after high school. Nothing could be worse than the destructive numbness he experienced during Suho’s time in coma, but whatever hope and motivation that came after his recovery had fizzled out in the first few semesters of starting university.
The feeling of wrongness was present from the start, though. Like a bug slowly crawling into his mind, placed from the second he decided to go down this path. Things had not necessarily gotten better with his parents by the time he had graduated, they just got calmer. They were actively around when it was becoming obvious that Sieun had made close friends and was staying out of fights, but got back into their old habit of steering away when they didn’t feel a need to keep an eye on him. Sieun didn’t know what else to expect. Everyone he befriended were miraculous distractions, though, ways to make the small moments lighter. But the question of college and what it meant for him was ever looming.
Out of what felt like a mixture of guilt and a deep-rooted need to see his parents content, Sieun accepted a pre-medical program offer while on the phone with his father. He heard the man’s tone immediately grow lighter across the line and thought he had done right.
He thought of Suho. Hyuntak. Humin. Suho again. The rest of his friends that he hadn’t seen in weeks on end. When he had told all of them about his plans to go down a medical route, it didn’t really shock anyone. Suho for one had just grinned expectedly, ruffling his head while saying he would have known this future for himself earlier had he not gotten into unnecessary shit. Juntae was overjoyed, with plans to go into neuroscience since the beginning of high school – safe to say, they had spent multiple lunchtimes talking it out – or rather, Sieun one-sidedly listening to Juntae passionately ramble about what it meant to him to get a grasp on how the brain truly works. If anything, the passion must have been slightly contagious, and delayed the inevitable slam into the brick-wall exclaiming this isn’t for me.
Because they got into the same university, Juntae still catches Sieun in the medical department hallways and the dining halls – mostly against his will. That part was what made Sieun feel sticky with guilt the most. He has been unable to show face to anyone, lost in his books, lost in what should be done – even though medical school doesn’t feel right anymore. He entered university with his convictions set straight, and somehow none of it felt like a part of his future now. The same sense of stagnation from when he was a teenager; get good grades for no reason besides the fact that it has always been done.
He had been mistaken to think things would suddenly become clearer in adulthood.
Sieun felt like he was ramming against a wall of god knows what every time he got ready to study at night, and somehow eliminating seeing his friends felt like it would help with focusing. But rather, everything got worse. Stale. He licked his bottom lip – dry, cracked. Tonight had him feeling especially antsy and his mind was going elsewhere. His pen felt almost nonexistent between his fingers.
Everything was suddenly too warm, and instead of poring back over his books, he fished his phone out.
The process of opening Kakao felt nauseating. Big. Huge. Scarier than his textbooks. Than even a couple of fights he’s been in. He rapidly scrolled across multiple unread messages, letting the unwelcome words blur into vague lines.
And before he could think about it too much, he clicked on one particular chat box and typed away.
11:08pm
Hey.
Things have been kind of hectic recently.
Was wondering if you’d like to hang this week.
11:12pm
woah
is this real?
–
Suho understood that it had been a few months since they had seen each other, and he understood that a bit too well within the first couple of seconds of their meeting. The tension in Sieun’s shoulders, the downcast look. His jet-black hair had nearly grown out to replicate the length of his bangs from when he was a teenager. It would have been cute had it not been a sign of him not caring much about his physical state anymore. Suho was also finding it increasingly difficult to force a smile in reaction to Sieun’s mutterings, as if words were coming out of him against his own will, as if he would – really – rather be anywhere else.
He knew it wasn’t actually the case, though, because Sieun was the one to initiate this interaction. It was during his shift when he got the text, and he remembered jumping on the spot right in front of his coworkers, much to his embarrassment. It was weird receiving anything from the same Sieun that had rejected multiple hangouts in the recent past due to being “busy” – whatever that meant, Suho didn’t ask him to ever elaborate, given that he could simply feel the reclusive nature of his replies through the screen. For his own sanity he just assumed it was his assignments (as if that ever stopped him the whole of his first year, though), refusing to let any frustration boil over into full blown anger.
But he kept reminding himself that things were changing. He was 22. Sieun was 22. He knew their dynamic would shift once Sieun entered college, and not least of all because he would be “busy”. Their paths were always set to diverge in such a drastic way that it had Suho constantly pondering over how his image would shift in Sieun’s eyes – regardless of everything they have been through together.
Suho knew it wasn’t in Sieun to be judgmental, of course. It wasn’t even the fact that it never looked like he had the time to bother with anybody else’s happenings, but also because he knew, deep down, that it wasn’t in Sieun’s nature to be like that. There was a reason he stood out to him, even from the back of the classroom. The unassuming boy who would bend over his books 24/7 and make it through every mandatory conversation and class ritual as silently as possible.
He never fully caught Sieun’s eyes until the moment he had to mediate between him and Youngbin. Safe to say, it did surprise Suho to see the way his expression morphed into a mixture of pure rage and entitlement. A face screaming how dare you try to stop me merged with a body that was not built to withstand what would have come next had Suho not stepped in. And in that experience, any admiration he held towards the shorter boy ziplined into frustration. That there was no way this was the same guy who seemed to have the most aspirational future of the class – hell – of the entire school.
The unbelievability of it all gave him the burst of energy needed to punch Sieun in the face for the first and last time. But it didn’t take Suho long to learn that Sieun’s anger was pretty much always righteous. Self-destructive and ominous to an unhealthy degree, sure, but justified. Never from a place of selfishness or a need to dominate.
And he always knew that if anyone deserved and could achieve a safer, inspirational life, it would be Sieun. On the other hand, Suho also knew that life, for him, would be a constant effort to work the societal perception of himself out of his violent, messy, and poor history. New job to new job to new job. Keep grandma alive and secondly himself.
It wasn’t a tragic revelation for him, but whenever he casually told Sieun about any of this, the boy wouldn’t look particularly happy about it. It was the one thing they both would split in disagreement over – over what Suho’s “potential” was, over what a good future really constituted of. Suho was fine with that. Sieun was Sieun before he was a future doctor, lawyer, whatever. He could handle Sieun’s disappointment when it was nothing in comparison to their shared history of dealing with a high school straight from hell.
And so came the post-graduation life.
It was going okay so far.
Work took over his life as soon as he completed his accelerated high school program, and he was happy enough with it. Happy to be back on his feet, to feel the simple satisfaction of getting a job well done and be able to help his coworkers out with any physically demanding tasks. Offering to place a bottle on the top shelf has never made him feel more like himself until he began jobbing post-recovery. And so he worked hard and kept doing it.
Somehow, he was able to strike a balance that he never found back in high school. Bartending pays way better, so no double jobbing was needed. He hung out with those from Sieun’s high school crew occasionally and found closer friends through his workspace. He had people to talk to, laugh with, and he didn’t need to forcefully squeeze in time for those whose company he enjoyed anymore.
For at least a year it was a seamless process with Sieun, with whom he would naturally spend time the most. Almost every single day was a potential hangout, or an invitation to laze around in his dorm, or a quick talk over dinner. He learned so much about what Sieun was studying, about the kinds of people he would meet, and most significantly, about the lack of unnecessary drama. No insecure kids who would take out their boredom and misery on the kids who were just minding their business.
“Things are peaceful, feels weird.” And Suho remembers exactly how Sieun said it, a spoonful of gamjatang close to his lips and his tone higher than usual, betraying how excited the revelation genuinely made him. As if he had only realized it in that moment, when he was verbalizing his midnight thoughts across from Suho at their frequented canteen. Suho remembers the unexpected warmth that settled deep in his stomach from seeing Sieun come to terms with his safer circumstances, which were a long time overdue in everyone’s eyes.
A sort of sincere happiness, void of any jealousy, took over him then. A kind that felt so real it made him laugh at himself and catch Sieun off guard, who looked up at him with big confused eyes and kept asking what was wrong until the conversation drunkenly drifted off into something else, something more mundane. It was a little unsettling how everything felt deeper and softer when Sieun was around; Suho found himself switching topics quicker than ever when he thought things were steering towards a more vulnerable direction. It all just weighed heavier in his 20s than it ever did back then.
Which was probably why he didn’t push to drag Sieun back into his life when he quietly slipped away. Mulling over it felt weird too. When everything else was going so well, why was one friend’s absence worming into his thoughts everyday? He at least knew that Sieun was safe given his minimal hang outs with Juntae, who went to the same university and saw him often around campus. He tried not to look too desperate when edging any dialogue into “how is Sieun” territory – he wonders if it ever really worked.
A deep voice drawls out, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now.”
“Hm?” Suho blinked and set his eyes on Sieun, who was aimlessly picking away at his food. “All of a sudden? What are you talking about?”
He regretted the lax tone in seeing Sieun glance away, dark eyes narrowing in reaction. In that split second Suho could see 17 year old Sieun, with his tight-lipped expression and puffy under eyes. This was beyond fatigue, this was something closer to despondence. It made Suho think about how much he had missed out on. How much could he have helped out if he had just known what was really going on? Medical school is hard, if he knows anything from the first year complaint sessions. How much worse could it possibly get?
The guilt felt overwhelming in that second. Suho didn’t know how else to verbalize it besides saying -
“Don’t talk like that, Sieun-ah. There’s nothing wrong with you – about you. You’re just tired. All good.”
No response. A few beats passed, and Suho let them sit in the painful silence before placing some pieces of grilled pork on the other’s plate.
“Eat up. You’re barely touching any of the –”
“Does it bother you that I just called you here out of the blue?”
The taller put his chopsticks down, sighing as shallowly as possible given the loaded question. He tried catching Sieun’s eyes, sad and brown as they were. He hadn’t looked up at Suho to make eye contact even once in the past half-hour and it was irritating him more than he imagined.
“Sieun-ah. Why do you only open your mouth to ask stupid questions?”
And at that the other frowned, deeply offended by the callout.
“I rejected your millions of invitations to hang out like a piece of shit friend.”
Suho was not going to humor that kind of talk. He let out a far deeper breath and stared at Sieun for a couple of seconds. The only source of light in the restaurant was from weak, dangling bulbs. One shone on them from an odd angle that simultaneously softened and darkened Sieun’s features, who was now looking at him expectantly for some sort of answer. What did he want, a yes? A concrete insult to enable his drowning in guilt?
The soft side of his face seemed to ask for something else, or so Suho’s tipsy brain conjured. So he settled on responding simply and truthfully.
“I missed you. That’s why I came. You could have said no to fifty more invites and I still would have come if you asked.”
Widening eyes, and the once stone face cracking and reddening from either the alcohol or his words. Either way, Suho knew, deep down, that he has needed to see Sieun like this for a long time now.
He leaned forward and poured some water into Sieun’s now empty glass, keenly aware of how the other didn’t flinch back, but instead tracked his movements as if there was nothing more fascinating. Suho considered looking up at Sieun for a second, just out of curiosity. But there was something about the distance that scared him a bit.
..Scared him?
Before he leaned back, he heard the quiet murmur of a thank you, barely audible but carrying a weight that implied a gratefulness for something much larger. Suho let the words wash over him; he couldn’t help but break into a bright smile, teeth and all. His skin was buzzing with warmth.
“You wanna tell me what’s been going on?”
–
All of a sudden it was nearing 1am, and Sieun didn’t know how they got there. He wasn’t brave enough to think his reunion with Suho would last anymore than an hour; awkward as it was in the beginning. Maybe it was the alcohol. He doesn’t know if he drank more or less than he usually did, but his brain had undeniably turned into floaty matter.
His tongue had also loosened at the sight of Suho’s reassuring smile back at the restaurant, and everything that had been tormenting him came out of his system all at once. Sieun secretly prays that whatever words he had jumbled together then made at least some sense, because he could not tell whether he sounded comprehensive but depressed or just plain unintelligible. Suho initially absorbed everything with an incredulous, slightly guarded expression – as if he didn’t want to take everything coming out of Sieun without some sort of barrier up. And yet Sieun couldn’t stop himself, his words as bitter as the aftertaste of the charred meat.
He’d braced himself for the impact of some kind of judgement from Suho. Anything that would resemble the disappointment he was sure to see in his parents’ faces when he would have to request an out from the program. It was stupid, obviously; Suho isn’t his mother. Suho wouldn’t care as much as she ever would. But the thought of him being dismayed at all hurt a hell lot more in that drunken hour.
Before he could have sat too long in his anxieties, he’d felt the other’s hands wrap around one of his own, forming a protective ball around it. The contact had shocked Sieun to his core – he’d felt the effect run down to his feet. How many days had it been since he had been touched by another person? He couldn’t stop looking at the shape of Suho’s fingers then, trying to process the reality of them against his own.
“I can’t believe that this is why you pulled yourself away. Do you really think I could care less about how you’re doing in school?”
A brush of a finger against his knuckle. “I’ve seen you covered in blood and at your maddest, Sieun-ah. When you literally didn’t know how else to react except throw a fist.”
He could sense tears threatening to spill again, no shield against Suho’s words.
“Seriously. You could be unemployed for years on end and I wouldn’t give a fuck. As long as,” he paused to tap Sieun’s chin, “you’re not trying to get yourself killed again.”
For a few seconds Sieun had sat with that statement. When he regained himself, he saw a Suho fiercely determined to push his truth through, dark brows crossed against unbelievably radiant eyes. It didn’t feel real to get that kind of reassurance after everything his brain had been throwing against him for days upon days.
All of a sudden he had turned shy under Suho’s gaze, unable to get the right words out. How was he supposed to reconcile with the sheer generosity of the man and respond appropriately?
And apparently he had the audacity to say sorry in that moment, much to Suho’s chagrin, who gave him a light shove and (fortunately) broke the tension. They went back and forth a bit before leaving after a battle of credit cards against the waiter’s reader, which Sieun quickly won by giving the taller a faux upset look. If there was anything he could do for Suho in exchange for hearing him out, it was pay for dinner.
Suho had rolled his eyes and smiled lazily when Sieun put the payment in, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Somehow Suho was always willing to keep giving and giving, insisting to pay for everything ever since he got his breakthrough job. A clear shift from when they were both teenagers.
He had made such a neat transition into adulthood despite everything, making him more dependable than ever, which was saying a lot for how he had always been in Sieun’s life.
They’d hovered about each other a bit once they reached outside, taking in how much darker the city got during the hours they were eating. Suho had raised a brow at him in silent question, and they just began walking across the street side by side without acknowledging if either of them had to leave or not. Tomorrow was a weekday. That fact was not lost upon Sieun. But if Suho wasn’t going to use that as an excuse, he was happy to not bring it up. More for him, he’d selfishly thought.
For at least an hour they’d meandered around multiple lighthearted topics, finding ways to poke into each other’s lives while walking against the harsh Seoul winter. Sieun found it endlessly entertaining to hear about how Suho was just having a plain old good time, as he’d worded it. It was as if a burden was lifted from his mind – that at least someone was adjusting well to his life decisions. The fact that it was Suho who got to that stage first amongst his friends did not surprise him.
As they passed the midnight hour, Suho kept blocking the street lamps from Sieun’s perspective. It was funny to him. Like one orb of light eclipsing another, infinitely accurate to who Suho was.
At some point Suho stopped in his tracks by a hodugwaja stall that was still miraculously open at this time, emanating the addicting scent of roast walnuts. But instead of facing it, he was tilting his head at Sieun, hands in his coat pockets. The gold shine from the stall made clear the amused glint in his eyes.
“Can’t get enough of my face after all this time, man?” The taller scoffed, air leaving his mouth in puffs.
Sieun’s eyes widened, heart in his throat. Well, shit.
“Sorry. I was just, uh, zoning out.” The lie sounded so fake - even to him - that it made him internally wince.
Suho was kind enough to not call him out on it, but he didn’t say anything either, simply smiling to himself and turning to put an order in with the stall man. What did that mean? He tried not thinking too much into it, breaking his eyes away to stare at a random corner of the ground, trying to get a hold of himself. This wasn’t the first time Suho had caught him staring and called it out. The first time was nearly two years ago when they were laying in Sieun’s bed, doing their own respective things, but he wondered how many more times Suho noticed and kept it to himself. God.
It started snowing light flakes, which turned everything into a fog of white and gold. Something about existing in that moment by Suho made his heart twist painfully. He’d missed Suho. He wished he was brave enough to tell him to his face that he was staring, and so what? Who wouldn’t?
Sieun took a sharp breath in and dug a nail into his palm, praying the soju’s buzz would just die already. His line of thought was growing increasingly delirious. He made space for a couple of new customers before feeling Suho shove a warm box into his hands.
“For you,” Suho exclaimed. “They had some in red bean and almonds, too, so I got a mix.”
“What? I can’t have the whole thing. Suho - ” he was cut off by the touch of a hand playing in his hair, a terribly familiar sensation.
“I got us another set to share on the side. Wanna head to a nearby park? Somewhere closer to campus?”
Sieun broke into a wavering smile. This felt awfully like something out of a film. He eyed the surrounding scenery, grounding himself. “Anywhere is fine. You didn’t have to get me extra. It’ll take me days to get through it.”
The glint was back in Suho’s eyes. “You can provide it as a peace offering to your parents? For when you break the news?”
It was Sieun’s turn to scoff in disbelief, marveling at Suho’s weird sense of humor. “I’ll have to bring them a hell lot more in order to make it work.”
And as if the night couldn’t get more mythical, Suho wrapped an arm around his and swayed them in a half-circle. “I’ll buy you three more boxes and some flowers with that. Better?”
Sieun grinned to himself, gazing away into the distance for a second before turning them right back and leading them off. Suho laughed and brought himself in closer, indulging in the shared warmth as much as Sieun was.
“Suho-ya. Can’t believe you’d offer to buy my parents flowers before me.”
“Oh, wow. Asshole. The graduation roses I worked a thousand shifts for magically don’t count anymore?”