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Hansol doesn’t quite know when this started happening. He really, really wants to say the first time was an accident.
He remembers it: it was late at night (maybe two in the morning?) and he and Minghao were studying for their exam, scheduled for fourteen hours later. They meant to get coffee, but they both forgot before the closest campus coffeeshop closed, so they were staying awake on sheer anxiety. It wasn’t all bad, though; Minghao was good company, funny and self-deprecating, and he brought snacks. Hansol remembers flipping through pages of their combined notes as they sat on Hansol’s bed and got chip crumbs everywhere, and the next thing he remembers is waking up in a kind of stiff pile with Minghao in the morning.
“Shit,” he muttered, and nudged Minghao awake. His face was close to Hansol’s, and he looked cute when he was asleep, none of the worry of the night before etched onto his face. That is, until he woke up, when his worry was back tenfold.
“Shit,” Minghao muttered back, his voice lower than normal. “We passed out. What time is it?”
Hansol craned his neck toward his alarm clock, and let out a relieved breath. “Only eight.”
Minghao groaned, and sank back down into the bed, burying his face in the pillow. Had they really managed to share one pillow all night? “The exam is in eight hours.”
“Well,” Hansol sighed. “We studied for a long time, right? I think we’re going to be okay.” In truth, he just didn’t really want to get out of bed. He didn’t remember pulling the blanket up over them, but it must have happened sometime overnight, and their papers were strewn messily on the floor. Minghao was still kind of...cuddled up to him, their feet touching, and it didn’t feel as weird as it maybe should have.
“You think?” Minghao asked, looking up at him with his wide eyes. They were pretty. Hansol swallowed.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Then can we go back to sleep for a little?” Minghao asked, blinking sleepily. “It’s really early.”
Hansol didn’t even think twice before nodding, mumbling, “Yeah,” and sinking back down into bed with Minghao’s breath hitting his collarbone in a way that is wholly unfamiliar.
That was the first time, in October, and it just kind of...kept happening? The second time, they were watching television together on Minghao’s sofa (well, Minghao’s apartment’s sofa, which really Soonyoung bought, but it doesn’t really matter.) Hansol doesn’t know when they fell asleep, but when they woke up, the marathon was over and someone had put a blanket on them. That time, Minghao really was cuddled up to him, face buried in Hansol’s chest.
They woke up, smiled and laughed in an embarrassed kind of way, and moved on, sad that they had missed half of the episodes they wanted to watch.
Maybe it’s not weird just because of how Minghao is — Hansol met him a year ago, a friend of Soonyoung’s (who’s a friend of Seungkwan’s), and he was always a little touchy. Mostly just with Soonyoung and sometimes their other friends, but eventually with Hansol, too. He doesn’t seem to realize that he does it, latch onto people or bury his face in their necks, and no one ever really questions him, so Hansol doesn’t think much of it. He doesn’t think of himself as particularly tactile, but he doesn’t mind with Minghao. He’s warm and nice and Hansol kind of likes when he hugs him from behind.
The thing is, now it’s gotten to a point where Minghao shows up at Hansol’s dorm looking tired, sets his backpack down on the floor next to Hansol’s desk, and says, “I really need a nap.”
It’s true that Hansol’s dorm is closer to campus than Minghao’s apartment, and Hansol thinks that’s like sixty percent of the explanation behind this. But it doesn’t really explain why Minghao always looks at him and asks, “Do you wanna join?” And for that matter, it doesn’t really explain why he almost always says yes.
Sometimes, Minghao catches him at a bad time, and he just shakes his head, puts headphones on, and lets Minghao sleep in his bed. It feels nice, studying with someone else in the room, even if they’re asleep. Most of the time, though, he agrees, because naps with Minghao are extremely enjoyable. He’s kind of a cuddly sleeper but always mumbles a quiet “Is this okay?” before crossing any boundaries, like putting his arm over Hansol’s waist. It’s always okay. Minghao is warm and sweet and smells good, and even though sometimes they get cramped in Hansol’s kind-of-small bed (they’re both a little too tall), he always gets restful sleep.
Today, they’re not asleep, just playing video games in Minghao’s bedroom on the small television he keeps in the corner. Minghao’s room is pretty sparsely decorated, mostly photographs hanging on the walls instead of posters, and only a bed, a desk and two beanbag chairs to fill it up.
Minghao isn’t really in the best mood; he’s been kind of quiet all afternoon, since Hansol followed through on their plans and showed up a few hours earlier to hang out and do calculus homework. Currently he’s violently killing the zombie on screen without making any jokes about it, which isn’t a great sign — they’ve known each other for long enough that Hansol knows that much. Hansol furrows his eyebrows before hitting the pause button on a kind of gruesome scene.
Minghao looks over in question, and Hansol just looks at him for a second. “Hey, hyung.”
“Hey?” Minghao repeats back, tilting his head in confusion.
“Are you okay?” Hansol asks quietly. He feels kind of weird about it. They don’t usually talk about feelings much. Minghao is actually kind of a private person, and Hansol isn’t the most forthcoming person on the planet. He rubs his sweaty hands on his jeans as Minghao stares at him for a moment.
“Yeah,” Minghao finally says, slowly, like he’s confused. “I’m fine.”
“Oh,” Hansol replies dumbly. “I just thought...you seem kind of quiet.”
Minghao keeps looking at him, but then his face turns into a little smile, sheepish. “I didn’t realize. Um, it’s not a big deal. It’s just that it’s my mom’s birthday, and I’m usually...I wish I was there.”
“Oh,” Hansol says again, then feels dumb for saying again. “That sucks, that you can’t be there. Happy birthday to your mom.”
Minghao’s smile gets brighter. “Thanks.”
The game is still paused, so Hansol decides to keep talking, even though it feels like uncharted territory. “Are you close?”
“Yeah,” Minghao nods. “I’m really close with my family, usually. Unless they piss me off.”
Hansol smiles at that. “That’s cool. Is it hard, being so far away?” It’s a stupid question. Of course it’s hard. Minghao’s smile falters a little, and Hansol tries to backtrack. “Sorry, that’s really personal, you don’t have to —”
“Yeah, sometimes it is. When I can’t be there for stuff like this, you know?” Minghao’s looking down at his beanbag, picking at a loose thread. Hansol nods.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and means it. Minghao just gives a kind of nod-shrug, and Hansol bites his lip. “Come here,” he says without letting himself think about it too much, setting his controller down and opening his arms up.
MInghao looks a little surprised, but he crawls over from his beanbag and flops down into Hansol’s arms, pushing Hansol back against his beanbag a little. It’s a good hug. Minghao is a good person to hug. It kind of goes on for a while, neither of them making to move, and after a few moments Hansol comes to rest his hand on the back of Minghao’s head.
“I’m sorry you can’t be home,” Hansol says again, quietly.
Minghao huffs out a small laugh that Hansol hears loud against his ear. “It’s okay. Thanks.”
They stay like that for another moment, the ambient music of the video game playing in the background, before Minghao pulls back with a smile. “Thanks, Hansolie,” he says, his face still close to Hansol’s, and there’s a moment. There’s a moment where they both kind of go still and Hanol’s eyes slip down to Minghao’s lips (and they’re nice lips, he doesn’t know if he’s noticed before) and they just stay there, kind of suspended.
Right when it seems like maybe something is going to happen, something unexpected and panic-inducing, Minghao’s bedroom door comes open and Minghao falls back on his ass in front of Hansol’s beanbag in surprise.
It’s Wonwoo, who looks between them with one raised eyebrow, before apparently addressing what he came in for. “Hey, Soonyoung wants to know if you want to come do laundry. We’re going over to the laundromat.”
“No, that’s okay,” Minghao says quickly, casual enough that Hansol is convinced that nothing just happened between them. “Thanks, though.”
“Sure,” Wonwoo says back. “Hey, Hansol.”
“Hey,” Hansol says back. He’s sure he sounds more shaken than Minghao did. He’s a terrible liar. “What’s up?”
“You know, just making Soonyoung clean. The usual,” Wonwoo shrugs with a little smirk.
“Don’t insult me in front of the kids!” Soonyoung calls from behind Wonwoo, making Wonwoo smile properly. He fixes his face back into indifference before he turns around to face Soonyoung.
He finds his way back out of the room, bickering with Soonyoung as their voices fade out, and Hansol clears his throat. Minghao is back over on his beanbag, rolling his eyes.
“They’re so gross,” he complains, eyes fixed on the television, waiting for Hansol to press play again. So he does, blinking away his confusion and getting back into the game.
Minghao wins, they forget to study for calculus, and that night, Hansol sends Seungkwan a text that says “how do u know if ur not straight????”
++
Hansol is trying not to overthink it. It’s movie night at Jeonghan’s, and he and Minghao were both too late to get a spot on the couch, so they’re sitting on the floor. Well, Hansol is sitting on the floor, and Minghao is kind of sitting...in his lap? Between his legs, really, kind of turned sideways into Hansol.
He’s trying not to overthink it.
“Did you know that they did these stunts themselves?” Junhui asks from somewhere behind them, which makes Jihoon snort and argue, “No, they didn’t.”
Hansol is having trouble focusing on that discussion, even as they continue to go back and forth, because Minghao leans back a little so that his head is against Hansol’s neck, and Hansol feels weird about it. Not bad-weird, like...he wants to reach out and wrap his arm around Minghao’s waist. Is he allowed to do that? Is that weird?
Minghao laughs quietly at something someone must have said, sometime, and Hansol can like, feel it. His stomach feels weird. Everything is bad, and suddenly he feels sweaty. This is terrible, he thinks desperately. Is this what liking a boy is like?
Seungkwan informed him that he’s probably not straight, which is an inconvenient realization; Hansol is glad that Seungkwan couldn’t attend this movie night, because he really doesn’t need that added pressure staring at him from across the room.
He coughs kind of, sort of just out of desperation to make his body do something except sit stiff and awkward under Minghao’s weight, except it must sound weirder than a cough because Minghao looks up at him in concern. “Sorry, am I sitting on you weird? I can move.”
Hansol shakes his head in confusion. “What? No, don’t do that. You’re fine. Good.”
Minghao just looks at him for a second, but then he kind of smiles. “Okay. Cool.”
Minghao is so warm, and it feels so good to be close to him, and Hansol is concerned that he’s going to literally die before the movie is over.
“Hey,” Minghao aims at him quietly, soft enough that only Hansol hears. “Relax, will you?”
Hansol manages a smile at that, and nods. “Okay.”
It takes another fifteen minutes, but eventually he does manage to work up the courage to rest a hand on Minghao’s calf, even if he does feel somewhat panicked the entire time.
++
Hansol isn’t sure why he got invited to this, if he’s being honest. Minghao kind of proposed it casually as he slung his backpack over one shoulder, looking down at his phone before asking, “Oh, hey, want to come to this thing with me?”
Well, technically, Hansol does know why he’s here — it’s a thing with Mingyu and the boy he’s kind-of seeing, and Minghao felt weird going by himself. Only, Minghao didn’t tell him they were going bowling, and now Hansol has to deal with the prospect of likely public humiliation, because he’s bad at all sports-adjacent activities.
“All of them?” Minghao asks when he explains this. He looks impressed.
Hansol considers. “Well. I’m okay at running.”
“Ah damn, they almost dragged me along to a date at a track,” Minghao snaps his fingers ruefully.
“Stop it,” Hansol complains with a groan. Minghao just laughs at him, melodic, kind of at odds with his sarcasm.
“It’s okay,” Minghao tells him. “Mingyu and Jungkook get so worked up trying to beat each other they won’t even notice. And your bowling score will not reflect negatively on you in my eyes.”
“Who is this guy, anyway?” Hansol asks, deciding to change the subject instead of asking for bumpers on his lane. “Have I met him?”
“Jungkook? I don’t think so,” Minghao says. It’s a Friday night, and the train going downtown is cramped, so they’re standing and holding onto the same pole, fingers almost touching. “He’s in our year. He’s a nice guy, but he’s kind of shy. Mingyu’s been trying to date him for like, ever, but I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”
The train stops unexpectedly, and Minghao almost goes tumbling, so Hansol reaches an arm around his middle to steady him. “Thanks,” Minghao says with a light little laugh, righting himself again but not moving out of Hansol’s grip. So instead of letting go, Hansol leans in and rests his chin on Minghao’s shoulder, because...he wants to. They’re almost the same size, but Minghao is lanky and wiry where Hansol is a little more filled out, which Hansol mulls over, unable to think about much else, until they get to the bowling alley.
Minghao is right: Mingyu is definitely trying to date Jungkook. Hansol knows Mingyu pretty well, at least well enough to tell when he’s flirting, and he will not stop flirting. Jungkook, for his part, seems unfazed. Minghao was also right in saying that Jungkook is a nice guy. He introduced himself kindly to Hansol, smiling sweetly before threatening to “destroy” Mingyu. Hansol isn’t sure that it’s possible to destroy anyone in bowling, which is a very unintimidating game, on the whole. But Jungkook’s form looks very professional, and Mingyu stares at his butt a lot.
It’s fun, overall, despite Mingyu grinning toothily and staring all gooey at Jungkook, and Jungkook’s general obliviousness. Mingyu almost drops a bowling ball on his foot about four different times, and on the fourth one, Minghao threatens to go get him a kids’ ball if he isn’t more careful. Hansol doesn’t even do too terribly, managing to score ten more points than Minghao, who looks annoyed about it, which is funny.
“You look cute in those shoes,” Minghao says at some point when Hansol slides back over to the little couch next to their lanes. Hansol looks down at the patchwork bowling shoes, a little too big for his feet, and then back up at Minghao.
“Oh,” is all he says, cursing himself but not able to think of a way to recover from it. Minghao is looking a little embarrassed, like he’s surprised he said it too.
Hansol’s heart leaps into his throat and his brain nearly short-circuits, but he does it: he gets out the sentence, “Are you flirting with me?” It’s not even really a conscious choice, but there it is, out in the open.
All he can register is Minghao’s eyes widening in a way that’s not totally encouraging, but then he hears a loud thump, and Mingyu cry out in a pained noise.
“Oh no,” Jungkook says sadly.
“God damn it, Kim Mingyu,” Minghao mutters darkly. “I told you, I warned you to be careful —”
“Stop yelling at me, I’m broken,” Mingyu whines, hopping on one foot. The other foot, Hansol assumes, was victim to the bowling ball.
“You’re an idiot,” Minghao sighs, but he helps Mingyu sit down on the couch as Jungkook looks on, horrified.
“Oh no,” Jungkook repeats. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Mingyu waves him off. “I do this kind of stuff all the time.”
“Really?” Jungkook asks. He looks concerned.
“Yeah, it’s — fine —” Mingyu says through gritted teeth, putting weight down on his foot.
“Should we go to the hospital?” Hansol asks with a sigh.
Jungkook furrows his eyebrows. “Is it your foot or your toe?”
“My toe, I think,” Mingyu determines.
Jungkook shrugs. “They won’t do much for you, then.”
Minghao and Hansol stare and him, and Jungkook shrugs again, looking embarrassed. “I’m a dancer, I’ve had a lot of weird foot injuries.”
“Fair,” Minghao says.
“You just need to rest it, and put ice on it. Do you want me to help you get home? Or, my apartment’s closer, you can come over —” Jungkook offers, and before the words are even finished leaving his mouth, Mingyu sits up a little straighter.
“I mean, if you don’t mind,” he says, not even bothering to hide his efforts.
“No, no, come over. I feel bad, it’s basically my fault,” Jungkook says apologetically.
“Yeah, you really can’t put Mingyu in any situation where he has to hold onto something heavy on a slippery floor,” Minghao says, shaking his head.
“I should have known,” Jungkook mutters very seriously. Mingyu whines.
They leave shortly after, Hansol saying goodbye and wishing Mingyu’s poor stupid toe well, Mingyu with his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, leaning on him without an ounce of shame.
“Well,” Hansol says, but doesn’t really know how to finish it. “Okay then.”
“Stupid Mingyu,” Minghao mutters again, before he walks over to the counter to get his shoes back.
The subway ride back to campus is...quiet. Not awkward, exactly, but not not awkward, either. Neither of them say much, which is for the best, because Hansol’s been replaying his own awkwardness in his head for fifteen minutes straight. Are you flirting with me? Who asks that?
Hansol’s stop is before Minghao’s, but Minghao stands up anyway. “It’s late. I’ll walk you.”
“What a good hyung,” Hansol says with a smile, and Minghao rolls his eyes, but he smiles back.
It’s been a cold February in Seoul, and they walk through the still-busy streets (it’s only ten, after all) in their big coats, bundled up against the winter wind.
“God, I hate winter,” Minghao says, loud enough for Hansol to hear him.
“Really? I kind of like it. The snow’s nice,” Hansol offers. He pulls his beanie down further over his cold ears and chances a smile at Minghao, who looks like he’s trying to glare at him but isn’t succeeding. His nose and the tips of his ears are red from the cold, and it’s...cute. The effect is cute.
They stop at an intersection, waiting for the light to change so they can cross the street, and Hansol watches Minghao shiver a little. “Here,” Hansol mutters, reaching to take off his scarf and offer it out to Minghao.
“No, don’t worry about it, it’s —”
“Just take it, it’s fine, we’re almost at my dorm —”
“Hansol, no, it’s yours, and —”
“Hyung,” Hansol says a little forcefully, exasperated. “Just take the scarf.”
Minghao eyes him for a minute before reluctantly reaching out and taking the scarf from Hansol’s hands, wrapping it around his neck carefully.
Hansol frowns, watching him struggle to tie it, and steps forward, pulling it so it’s even on both sides. “There.”
Minghao still looks pink, his eyes bright from the wind, and Hansol has to look away when he feels himself staring. Minghao burrows into the scarf, and they cross the street.
“You want to come up? I have hot chocolate,” Hansol offers when they end up outside his dorm building. Mostly, he just doesn’t want Minghao to leave. (Mostly. He also wants to make hot chocolate.)
“Um,” Minghao shifts his weight between his feet, before he looks up at Hansol. “Yeah. Okay.”
It’s warmer inside, and their footsteps echo up the stairwell. When they get to his room, he digs out two mugs and two slightly crumpled packets of hot chocolate mix, before the low hum of the microwave is the only other sound in the room. It’s still in that same space between awkward and comfortable, not really quite either, as Hansol pushes some dirty clothes out of the middle of the floor (it’s been a long week.)
When the timer goes off, Hansol goes back to the microwave, kind of avoiding Minghao’s gaze from his spot, frozen near Hansol’s desk. He gets a spoon out and stirs their hot chocolate, some of the powder still clumped up and dry.
“I was, by the way,” Minghao says quietly.
Hansol stops stirring. “What?”
Minghao clears his throat, and Hansol turns around to find him blushing down at the floor. “I was flirting with you.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
Minghao looks up, and he looks nervous, which is not a totally familiar expression for Hansol to see him with. “Sorry,” he mumbles suddenly, making to move toward the door. “I can go, I’m sorry, this is...weird...I —”
“Wait, what?” Hansol asks. “I don’t want you to leave.”
That seems to upset Minghao, whose eyebrows furrow. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s stupid, you’re straight, and I’m sorry. You don’t have to be so cool about it. Just let me go.”
“I’m not straight,” Hansol blurts out, and Minghao freezes, turning from where he was heading toward the door.
“What?” Minghao asks, confused.
Hansol shifts his weight between feet. “I’m not straight,” he repeats. He doesn’t really know how else to put it.
“Since when?” Minghao demands.
Hansol is a little taken aback, and he feels himself blush. “I don’t know! Since...since you sat in my lap that one time?”
“Which time?” Minghao asks, before shaking his head. “Wait, no. What? I...made you gay?”
“I don’t think I’m gay,” Hansol says. He’s not totally sure, though. “And...probably not. I mean, it’s probably not your fault.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m not that cute,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes.
“You are,” Hansol says sadly.
“What is even happening right now?” Minghao asks. He sounds distraught, his voice getting all high and weird.
“I was glad. That you were flirting with me. I...like you, I think,” Hansol tries to explain, wishing he had even an ounce of eloquence in his entire body.
Minghao stares at him. Hansol feels embarrassed. They stay like that, in a weird kind of stalemate, before Minghao purposefully crosses the room and without a lot of finesse, puts a hand on Hansol’s shoulder, leans in, and kisses him.
“Whoa,” Hansol breathes when he pulls away. Minghao is still staring at him, but he seems a little more relaxed now.
“Do you like me or not?” Minghao asks.
“Yeah,” Hansol nods, breath still kind of knocked out of him.
“Oh,” Minghao says, shoulders slumping in relief. “Well. Okay.”
“Do you...still want your hot chocolate?” Hansol asks.
Minghao looks incredulous for a minute, before he smiles. “Yeah. Sure.”
It isn’t that good, but the two of them keep smiling over the tops of their mugs at each other, sitting close together on the edge of Hansol’s bed.
“Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” Minghao asks when he’s finished, setting his mug down. “I...really like sleeping next to you.”
“Yeah,” Hansol nods. “Me too.”
And later, when they kiss clumsily under Hansol’s comforter, they both still kind of taste like chocolate, and their teeth keep knocking together when they smile.