Chapter Text
it’s late – past midnight if hanbon's reading the clock correctly. tonight, she is unfortunately stuck in the slightly humid goffice, spinning idly in her chair. this is not an unusual event to occur, but she can’t say she’s thrilled to be here. the hours spent editing for bunch of friends videos are always long and grueling, even with the assistance of their hired editor.
it’s mostly because anthony can’t stand to post anything until it’s polished beyond perfection. she knows this about him, so stifles her complaints every time she’s trapped like she is now. the video plays back on their editing software, bright against the dim light of the goffice. hanbon has insisted on warm lighting in here – string lights and lamps, no horrible overhead lighting to disrupt her.
this does, however, mean her eyes are rather strained when she’s here this late. skimming through the edit again, she trims a bit, humming softly to herself. upstairs, footsteps sound, likely anthony rummaging around in the kitchen. he eats in short bursts throughout the day, and midnight is around his dinner time, apparently.
it’s something she’s learned over the years. she knows anthony’s routine down to the second, and knows that despite what he claims, he is not very good at sticking to it. mostly, he catches on to everybody else’s lives and takes things as they come. she admires this about him, and sees it in herself, too.
hanbon prides herself on going with the flow. it’s a trait grown from countless instances of surprise in college – anthony’s video ideas never straightforward enough to let her guard down. she’s always been restless, too caught up in the world to spend a minute to herself, and it’s what she likes about anthony, too.
they’d clashed when they’d first met, tiny freshmen with dreams of something bigger. two people in a large group of friends, they had nonetheless gravitated towards one another. a relationship of faux animosity, a rivalry of both academics and personal lives.
anthony had challenged her in ways not many other people did. his outlook on life was refreshing, that eye towards the future giving her hope. they’d kept in contact throughout the pandemic, and she’d admired from afar his creativity, spending long hours on call with him. no matter if he was in los angeles or vegas, they never seemed to lose that connection.
when they’d returned to campus in their junior year, she’d felt more excited than she had in a long time. the college videos had been some of the best years of her life. spending time with her favorite people, and doing things that she hoped would inspire the rest of the internet, gave her a clear path forward in life.
graduation had come all too soon, and with it the reality of corporate work. anthony had left youtube, as she’d known he would, but he had not left her life. even in his time at beast, he'd stayed faithfully consistent with communication. when he'd finally come home, he'd settled like he'd always been there. their house in jersey city was a cacophony of different visitors, many from college, some from their new existence as adults in the real world - it still is to this day.
through it all, anthony was a constant, a rock. he is still her closest friend, more of a soulmate than anything. he’d brought them together – hanbon, will, and coy each close to him before they’d grown close to each other.
this is also something she admires about him: his capacity to befriend almost anyone and pull them into his circle. she’s seen it done to others, had felt it done to her. looking back, hanbon ponders the kind of person she might be if she hadn’t met anthony, and then decides she’d rather keep her focus on the present.
the goffice door opens, knob jiggling. without looking up from her edit, hanbon recognizes anthony’s footsteps, soft and padding across the concrete floor.
“hey,” she greets as he shuffles up behind her and bends to lean against the back of her chair.
“how’s it going?” anthony asks, resting his head atop hers and reaching to flick the mouse along the timeline. she lets him, squinting her eyes against the blue light.
“well, i think it’s good, but it’s up to you, mister perfectionist,”
he snorts, moving to pull his own chair up to her desk. below the mouse and keyboard, smiling cartoon faces peer up at the two of them – painted by anthony himself when only the members of okpop had lived here. they’ve mostly scattered now, even hanbon, though she's just down the road.
her desk remains. so does anthony.
he takes charge of the edit, expertly skimming it over and making changes where he sees fit. hanbon sits back and watches him, admiring the concentration on his face. he works so hard on each video, genuine care put into each decision he makes.
of all the things she loves about her best friend, his ability to care about everything is perhaps at the top of the list. anthony is an incredibly profound person, capable of giving his full attention and focus to everything he does.
she sees it in his friendships, in how he’d always taken time away from the camera to make sure his college friends knew how much he loved them.
it’s in how he notices when will’s favorite cereal is almost out and picks some up the same day, as if it’s no big deal. it’s in how he reminds coy to drink water, conscious of the other man’s caffeine dependency. it’s in how he’s here now, even though she’d told the other three she was fine to finalize the edit.
it’s in how he’s set a bowl of popcorn on the desk, hardly acknowledging it, but somehow aware that she hadn’t eaten since five o’clock.
hanbon sees anthony’s care in the way he holds himself in the world, conscious and aware of his surroundings and the way he effects everyone around him. he is outspoken about his beliefs, his unwavering confidence letting him speak his mind whenever he feels there is something worth speaking of.
she sees his care in more everyday things, too, like the way he gently handles the mouse, his light finger-taps on the keyboard, humming softly.
he may not see it himself, but anthony shines a bright spot onto everything he does.
he glances down at her as she looks at him, a bemused smile gracing his features. “what?”
hanbon smiles back, reaching out to ruffle his hair fondly. “nothing,” she says, and then pauses, thinks. “you’re just really good at this.”
there’s a small silence as he takes in the words, cheeks flushing slightly at the praise. “i try,” he ducks his head.
hanbon spins his chair to face her, putting on her serious expression. “i mean it,” she emphasizes, meeting his eyes. “we’re here ‘cause of you, anthony,”
the man sits with these words, keeping her gaze steadily. a flicker of something crossing his expression. hanbon doesn’t let this deter her, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them gently.
“you do know that, right?” she asks.
he swallows, laughs lightly. “i guess.”
“say it!”
“say what?”
“that you’re good at this. you know it’s true!”
a pause, his face glowing in the computer light. “...i’m good at this,” his cheeks flush again, embarrassed more than anything, but she sees the corner of his mouth twitch, knows behind the nonchalant persona is her friend who deserves to hear this more often than he does.
“thank you,” hanbon lets go, tucking her chair further into the desk and fixing her gaze back on the screen. “now finish the damn video, my talented friend.”
the next thirty minutes pass in practiced silence, hanbon shoveling popcorn into her mouth every so often while anthony fixates on the screen. she watches him work, knows he’s aware of her gaze, but they’re comfortable like this. she’s always watching him, and he, in turn, watches her.
they’ve been aware of each other for what feels like her whole life – because it does truly feel like her life had started freshman year at rutgers, that awkward orientation where they’d locked eyes.
they orbit each other, her and anthony, neither quite whole without the other. she knows that he knows she loves him, and is aware herself how he feels about her. they’re beyond friends, attached at the hip more often than not. some might speculate romance, but hanbon can’t quite articulate how their relationship works. it’s not romantic, but he is her soulmate.
anthony sits back at last as the clock in the corner of the screen flicks to one thirty. it’s not the latest they’ve been up editing, she reflects. when he’s here, it’s less horrible, even if the goffice air is stale and her back aches from sitting for so long.
“fucking finally.” she nudges him, sighing in an exaggerated manner. he rolls his eyes at her, making sure the video is saved to the computer before he puts it in sleep mode. they’ll post the video tomorrow, once coy and will have a chance to look it over. hanbon knows they won’t find any issues – anthony’s attention to detail tells her this.
her stomach growls, not satiated by the popcorn, and her friend’s lips quirk, eyebrows raised. “hungry?” he asks pointedly, and she smacks him lightly.
“been stuck here for like six hours, dude, what do you think?”
anthony stands, stretching his arms above his head, before he strides towards the door, grabbing his keys from off of the hook. “c’mon, let’s get something, and i’ll drive you home.”
she beams at him, hurriedly throwing on her zip-up hoodie and following him out the door. the night is muggy but not hot, the familiar scent of oncoming rain heavy in the air. they walk in silence to anthony’s blue bug, slipping into their usual positions easily.
hanbon feels like she’s seen the whole world from this passenger seat, or at least all of new jersey and a fair amount of new york. anthony turns the key in the ignition and backs out of the driveway, pulling out into their quiet street. the only thing open nearby is a shake shack, one they frequent enough that he has the route memorized.
a 2000s hit plays softly on the radio, only furthering hanbon’s nostalgia as she gazes out the window. they’ve done this routine a thousand times, but it never gets old. back in college, they’d drive just for the hell of it, putting an album on and letting the streets take them wherever they pleased. it always feels like they’re in their own world, isolated, but not lonely.
hanbon doesn’t think she can ever be lonely when anthony’s here. the drive to the shake shack is quick, and they order, briefly arguing about whether or not they want fries. hanbon wins, of course, and she smugly takes the container of fries from anthony’s hands, picking one up and swiping it through her shake.
anthony watches, a look of amused disgust on his face. “ew,” he shakes his head. hanbon pops the fry into her mouth.
“it’s good!”
“there’s no way.”
“c’mon, try it again!” hanbon dips another fry in her shake and holds it out to her friend. anthony’s nose wrinkles, pressing himself up against the car door to get away from the offending food.
“get it away from me,” he bats at her, ice cream smearing across his hand. “eugh! i’ve tried it before, bon, it’s not good.”
hanbon huffs, retreating. “you have no taste.”
“right…” anthony eyes her suspiciously, as if she’ll threaten him with it again. when she shows no signs of it, he relaxes again, breathing a laugh into the space between them.
in moments like these, all of the work is worth it. every hour spent in front of her computer, holed up in the goffice with ant, will, and coy, pitching videos and planning and editing. the streetlights cast a golden glow across the both of them as they bask in the silence of the car.
there’s no need for words between them, there hasn’t been for some time. they can speak in actions, in eye contact, in the way anthony’s shoulders hitch up when he’s stressed, in the way hanbon taps her feet when she’s happy. her feet tap now, a gentle rhythm against the car floor. anthony’s gaze flicks to her, and he smiles.
later, he will take the long way back to hanbon’s apartment, driving slow along quiet streets while music trickles out of their open windows. she will groan when they reach her place, unbuckle her seatbelt with exaggerated reluctance.
they’ll say goodnight, and she’ll slip out of the car, waving before she turns to unlock her door. he’ll wait until she’s inside – he always does – and shoot her a text before he drives away.
anthpo: see you tomorrow
hanbon: <3
for now, they sit in the shake shack parking lot, their windows rolled down, night air humid but cool against their faces. hanbon turns to look at him, remembering countless instances of this same experience. he looks as he always does, a bit tired, disheveled, but still with that air of confidence and contentedness that can always soothe her worries.
the thing about anthony is that he’s good at making people feel easy to love. his affection pours from him as easily as water from a spout, and he gives it freely. hanbon envies this about him, but more so she admires it. being anthony’s friend is one of her greatest joys. across six years and thousands of conversations, his support of her has never once wavered.
hanbon sets her empty cup in the cupholder, breathing in the night air. the radio hums low, a song that had been popular in their college years. she smiles, reaching across to turn up the volume.
as music fills the car, hanbon tips her head across the center console to rest it briefly against his shoulder.“love you, ant.” she murmurs. she can feel him smile, his jaw moving as he replies.
“love you too, han.”