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It’s too loud inside Seungcheol’s apartment. There’s some western music playing that Seungkwan can barely understand a word of and his members’ laughs are making his head pound. He really didn’t think that he drank that much, but maybe he just lost track of things.
“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” Seungkwan mutters as he picks himself off of the sofa and shuffles between the coffee table and Joshua’s knees. He fidgets with the jewelry around his pinky finger as he makes his way to the back door.
“Everything okay, Seungkwannie?”
Seungkwan turns and sees Jeonghan calling out from the kitchen. He’s grabbing a pair of beers from the fridge, probably for him and Chan.
“Just getting some air, hyung.”
“Okay, I think Hansol’s out there.”
Of course he is. He’s probably smoking again.
The door handle is ice cold against Seungkwan’s hand. He slides it open and the cool wind brushes his nose. Whatever strands of his bangs that weren’t already sweat-slicked onto his forehead get tossed to the side. Hansol is there, just as Jeonghan had said.
It’s not like they’re not friends anymore, no. They’re still each other’s members– there’s no other bond quite like it. But even then, something had shifted between the two. Something that Seungkwan had never been able to put a word to. Something that invited a tightness into his chest that made him want to rip his organs out and show Hansol that each pump of his heart was for him.
But that’s not what Seungkwan’s here for. It’s Seungcheol’s birthday. Soonyoung and Jihoon haven’t been able to get a vacation in a while, but they spent their screen time on a video call earlier in the evening. Seungkwan doesn’t even know how conscious Seungcheol is right now, seeing as he and Mingyu have been convincing everyone to take shots with them all night. He debates turning back around and sucking up the mugginess inside to spend the rest of the evening with the birthday boy, but the smell of nicotine brings him back to reality.
Hansol is tucked into the far corner of the balcony, gently blowing smoke into the cold night. He started keeping a pack of cigarettes in his bag about a year ago. Seungkwan doesn’t know who or what got him hooked in the first place, but he knows Hansol is smart enough to know what he’s getting into. But he still needs to make a comment.
“Those are going to ruin your voice, Chwe Vernon.”
“Mm.”
Hansol just hums. He hasn’t drank anything tonight. Nothing besides water or cola, at least. Seungkwan is glad to know that he isn’t the most sober person in the room. Maybe the second-most sober, but that doesn’t really hold much weight. Not with how clouded his judgement is. Seungkwan walks towards the railing, placing his feet with intention and leaning his wrists against the metal.
“Can I try?”
Hansol just looks at him for a second. The gloss on Seungkwan’s eyes must be obvious.
“Are you sure?”
He nods. Hansol takes another puff before holding the cigarette out. His eyes track Seungkwan’s fingers as he pinches just under the line between white and brown paper. His gaze lands on Seungkwan’s lips, watching his cheeks sink in as he inhales. The light at the end of the cig only brightens for a second before Seungkwan chokes on his own breath.
He pulls the cigarette away, quickly returning to its spot between Hansol’s fingers. Seungkwan bumps a closed fist against his chest, trying to force the nicotine out of his system. A tear grows on his eyelashes and threatens to fall as he looks at the smoker next to him.
The pensive stare stuck on Hansol’s face is replaced with that sickeningly sweet smile that’s become a rarity in Seungkwan’s memories. The crooked half-grin paired with squinted eyes makes Seungkwan rethink his open-heart surgery idea.
“I saw what you said in your livestream the other day.”
Of course he did. He’s probably sick of him.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t respond to your post.”
Seungkwan finally catches his breath. His eyebrows are squeezing together and something in the back of his head tells him to ‘stop that or else you’ll get wrinkles and you’ll need Botox.’ He doesn’t listen.
“I don’t mean to make it feel like what we have is one-sided.”
Why does he say it like that. ‘What we have.’
Seungkwan cracks his fingers.
“I think I’m just…”
Seungkwan prepares for the worst.
“Different from you. Different from myself. From before.”
Seungkwan has to remind himself to blink. The light from inside is casting shadows on Hansol’s face that only show up in times like these. You don’t get these kinds of shadows under stage lights. They don’t see each other under anything but stage lights these days. He still hasn’t said anything.
“If you ever ask me out to a meal, I’d come.”
Hansol brings the cigarette to his lips.
“You know,”
He inhales. One. Two. Three.
He pauses. His lips press together.
He exhales. Four. Five. Six.
“I would do anything for you, Seungkwan. I hope you know that.”
Seungkwan doesn’t even ask this time. He reaches over and plucks the cigarette from between his fingers. Hansol’s eyes follow the same path as Seungkwan takes an identical drag.
Inhale. One. Two. Three.
Pause. Blink. Stop staring at Hansol.
Exhale. Four. Five. Six.
Hansol giggles, almost like a schoolgirl. Is he sure that he didn’t drink anything?
“That’s gonna ruin your voice, Boo Seungkwan.”
He finally stops staring at Hansol, but only to pout and turn away, almost like a schoolgirl.
“Don’t tease, you know I don’t smoke. I just wanted to know what it felt like.”
Hansol mimics Seungkwan, turning out and staring into the Seoul skyline.
They stand in silence for who knows how long. Hansol taps the ash over the edge of the balcony. Hopefully Seungcheol won’t get mad at him. The air is cool, bordering on too cold. Seungkwan thinks about going inside, but the same voice in his head is telling him that there’s more to be said. He listens this time.
“I’m getting my tattoo touched up tomorrow.”
“Your tattoo?”
When did he get a tattoo?
“The one on my ear. Your tattoo.”
Oh right. The one he got a few years ago. It has been Seungkwan’s all along, hasn’t it?
It was at some meeting before the tour started, he thinks. They had been sitting side-by-side and Seungkwan’s arm somehow found its way to Hansol’s shoulder, just like it always did. It was like some divine being had sewn magnets into Seungkwan’s fingers and made sure they were only attracted to the iron in Hansol’s blood.
His hand tapped against Hansol’s shoulder and creeped up his neck. He was centimeters away from the lobe until Hansol’s hand stopped it from getting any closer.
“The tattoo, Seungkwan.”
He had shown the members the new ink in the practice room. They mostly teased him for getting something so small. It was in character for him, though. On their way to the meeting, Hansol pulled Seungkwan to his side and asked if he had liked it. Seungkwan said yes, of course. He likes everything about Hansol.
In the meeting, Hansol laced his fingers between Seungkwan’s. He leaned to his side and whispered.
“As soon as it’s healed, you’ll have free reign. I got it because of you, anyway.”
It was only a few years since Hansol got it, but Seungkwan just assumed he forgot about it. Hansol never brought it up again. Seungkwan never asked.
Hansol permanently altered himself for Seungkwan. In a place that only Seungkwan would care about. In a place that Hansol would never see.
“I wanted to get it a lot sooner.”
Hansol rolls the cig between the pads of his fingers.
“I was worried about what the company would say. It’s not like I could’ve undone it if they didn’t like it.”
It sounded like it should’ve been a joke, but Hansol deadpans the sentence in a way that makes it hard for Seungkwan to tell.
“You really think you don’t inspire me?”
This time Hansol almost hisses the sentence. He scrunches his face at Seungkwan. It almost looks like he’s upset at him for saying that.
“You’ve been my muse since the beginning. I don’t know if I could have done any of this without you here. With me.”
Seungkwan is entirely sober. Thank God. He would never forgive himself if he forgot a single second of this night. It feels like he hasn’t said anything in hours. He spilled most of his guts in the livestream, anyway.
Hansol’s cigarette is getting short and he knows. He makes an offer.
“Do you want another hit? I wanna try something.”
What does that mean.
“Oh, um. Sure.”
“Okay. Just…”
Hansol turns his body towards Seungkwan.
“Just breathe in as much as you want.”
The cigarette burns between Hansol’s lips for a second. His hand is the one with magnets this time, sticking to Seungkwan’s cheek and pulling him close. Their heads tilt in unison. Hansol taps against Seungkwan’s jaw, mouth dropping open in response.
Seungkwan breathes in as Hansol exhales warm smoke. Swirls of white move between them, the smell of gas stations and alleyways filling their lungs.
Seungkwan would be disgusted with himself under any other circumstances. But right now? This is the closest he’ll get to kissing him again. Seungkwan’s eyes are closed. Not squeezing or pressing or contorting any other part of his face. Just closed, just feeling Hansol’s hand around his jaw and the weird wind over his tongue.
Hansol pulls away. Seungkwan thinks that his eyes stayed open. Hansol’s magnets lose their pull and fall to his side.
“Come with me tomorrow.”
He presses the end of the cig against the metal railing. It’ll probably leave a stain, or something. Seungkwan doesn’t really know how cigarettes work. He lets Hansol’s invitation float away with the smoke.
“To the tattoo appointment.”
Hansol repeats himself. He really wants Seungkwan to come.
“There’s a barbecue place that I think you’ll like, too.”
Seungkwan wanted to be the one to contact him first.
“Okay.”
Seungkwan thinks Hansol smiled. It could’ve been him trying to prevent a sneeze. There’s a couple plants out here that could be allergy-inducing.
Seungkwan’s magnets are working perfectly fine. His hand moves to the side of Hansol’s face. Towards his tattoo. Towards Seungkwan’s tattoo. His fingers whisper into Hansol’s ear.
“I missed you.”
“I love you, too.”