Chapter Text
It’s a nice day outside, blue sky, and the ice in Donghyuck’s coffee is half melted when Taeil looks him in the eye and says, “I have a boyfriend.”
It’s the first thing Taeil has said all afternoon. He’d already been waiting at their table by the time Donghyuck walked in, had already ordered for the both of them. He sat and half-listened to Donghyuck chatter away, about his day and his life and things that are easy, until the dark cloud was too firmly rooted to ignore or bat away. “What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asked. Taeil didn’t reply for a very long time, and then—
I have a boyfriend.
“Okay,” Donghyuck says slowly, unsure. “I know?”
Taeil places both hands flat on the table and breathes out slowly, like someone about to enter battle, and Donghyuck just watches his grounded process with a fond half-smile, taking a long drink of his coffee. “I have a boyfriend,” Taeil says again, and this time it’s less like it’s bursting out of him and more like something a normal person might say.
“Okay,” Donghyuck says again with a laugh, now both completely amused and bewildered. “I still know.” He’s known for some time — shortly after he started flirting with Taeil, in fact. “His name is Johnny. He’s got a real-person-job. You’ve told me he’s very cute.”
“He is.” Taeil replies like perhaps Donghyuck might argue with him, but Donghyuck has never seen the guy to make judgements. Quite frankly, Taeil could get anyone he wanted, so a very cute boyfriend makes sense. “He’s really great.”
Donghyuck purses his mouth and ignores the sour taste in the back of his mouth. He knows foolishness put it there. “You’ve told me that, too.” He takes a long drink, eyes flat.
Taeil has told Donghyuck all about his long term, live-in boyfriend. Just enough to paint a pretty picture, because Donghyuck doesn’t really want all of the details when he’s half in love with Taeil and Taeil is fully in love with another man who may or may not be cuter than Donghyuck himself. Somehow, despite that, Taeil is still giving Donghyuck the time of day.
Another grounded breath. “I’ve been thinking about it.” Taeil purses his lips. He’s never been good about getting his thoughts out. Taeil is an incredibly direct person who suffers from being endearingly awkward, and the more he cares about what he says, the harder it is to translate it into open air. It’s rare to see him seem so bothered about anything, though, regardless of how well the words come.
Donghyuck takes pity. “About the fact that you have a boyfriend?”
Taeil bought a pastry and barely touched it. That should have been the first clue that something was going to go wrong today. “Yes.”
“Okay.” Donghyuck spins his straw in his drink, the ice clattering against the plastic cup. He props his cheek up on his hand and waits.
“I just…” Taeil groans and sinks down in his seat, hands over his face.
“I know you have a boyfriend,” Donghyuck says softly and gently, because Taeil is an easy-going person and rarely gets stuck in his own head, and also because Donghyuck has the feeling he won’t like the way this conversation is going. “Johnny knows you’re here, doesn’t he?”
Donghyuck already knows the answer to that; Taeil tells Johnny everything. Johnny knows about every date he and Taeil have been on. Even the first, even the ones that Donghyuck wasn’t sure were dates. Taeil tells Johnny every time he and Donghyuck hang out together because Donghyuck has stupid little hearts in his eyes and Taeil likes them there.
Taeil doesn’t say anything. He picks at the paper wrapping from his straw until it’s shredded along the table.
“You don’t have to be nervous about telling me things,” Donghyuck says simply, even though his heart is sinking just a little. He smiles, cheerful. “Something is on your mind and I want to know. It can be easy.”
Taeil squints at Donghyuck across the table, shrewd, and he huffs. He runs a hand through his hair, dissatisfied. “I think it’s just embarrassing that I’ve changed my mind,” he admits slowly.
Hearing it aloud sinks that heart the rest of the way to the floor. Donghyuck kicks it under the bench and hopes no one sees it. He swallows. “We were always just...seeing if it could work.” Donghyuck has dated a few people in his life, and he knows that this will be easier if he pretends like it hurts less, but Taeil knows him too well by now. Donghyuck can’t hide the long breath he takes, or his disappointment. “I really want us to work.”
“It’s not…” Taeil stops himself. He scratches the back of his neck. “I was about to say something really shitty.”
“‘It’s not you, it’s me?’” Donghyuck snorts, covers the downward curl of his mouth with a hand. “That’s a little shitty.”
“It’s really not you, though.” There’s embarrassment all over Taeil’s face.
“Yeah. I know.” Donghyuck does know. He lifts his chin haughtily. “I’m amazing. Of course it’s not me.”
Taeil smiles at him, and Donghyuck thinks it’s very unfair of him to make Donghyuck’s heart flutter at a moment like this. “You are amazing.”
Donghyuck sinks into his chair, cheeks red. “Shut up.” He swirls his coffee around with his straw. “Is this about…?” He bites his lip. “If I did something wrong I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Taeil says it a bit more firmly, and he reaches across the table to flick Donghyuck on the forehead. “It’s really not you. I just…” Taeil sighs. He looks sad, for whatever that’s worth. Maybe it should make Donghyuck feel better, knowing that this is hard on Taeil too, but it sucks that Taeil isn’t happy and it sucks that Donghyuck is the reason for it. It sucks that Donghyuck is also unhappy.
Donghyuck has mercy, one more time. “It’s just that you have a boyfriend.”
“I know I said that...I know we have an open relationship,” Taeil says. “But I’ve been thinking lately and I just...it’s the romantic part of this that scares me. I don’t really want to have a significant part of my life separate from my most important person.”
It stings a little, although not as much as it probably should. Donghyuck has been under no illusions as far as which of the two Taeil would choose once it came down to the wire; he’d simply been banking on Taeil never having to choose.
Donghyuck knows he’s important, too. That’s why Taeil changed his mind in the first place.
“It doesn’t have to be separate,” Donghyuck tells him. He swallows, shifting in his chair, and more than anything he kind of wants to beg. He’s not sure how much Taeil would appreciate a scene in the middle of the cafe, but Donghyuck thinks he should beg anyway. “We’ve been keeping it separate because...because it made you more comfortable. If it’s not making you comfortable anymore, we can change it.”
Taeil raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “It wasn’t just for me, you know.” It wasn’t even mostly for Taeil.
Donghyuck takes a long sip of his coffee.
The baristas are staring at them from the bar. Donghyuck and Taeil have been coming here for so long — months and months, until the entire staff knows their order by heart — and Donghyuck shies away from the idea of being a spoke on their rumor mill. He smiles coyly and waves at them until they scatter.
Taeil is looking at Donghyuck fondly. There’s a crease in his forehead that Donghyuck wants to smooth out with his fingers. “I’d never ask you to date Johnny, or even spend time with him. I know—”
“—I would, though.”
Taeil blinks. “Huh?”
Donghyuck clenches his jaw. “I’ll date Johnny too, if you want me to.”
And it must sound like a joke, because Taeil laughs his genuine laugh and it only becomes his awkward laugh one he realizes Donghyuck isn’t laughing with him. Taeil stares at him. “Are you serious?”
“If Johnny is so great why wouldn’t I want to date him?” Donghyuck asks, and it’s only slightly bitter.
Taeil hears it anyway. “Donghyuck.”
“What?” Donghyuck is stubborn. Some days it’s his least favorite thing about himself, but at the moment he can’t help wanting to cling onto something worthwhile. “If that’s what you need, I would.”
“It’s not what I need.” Taeil says it slowly, maturely, and reasonably. “You don’t date people for convenience.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes petulantly and then — tasting his own bitterness — lets his head drop into his hands. “Sorry. I know you don’t. I wouldn’t be.” I’d be doing it for you. That’s still not a great reason to date someone. “You’re just, like...the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Taeil raises his eyebrows at him, even if his smile is sweet. “You’re 23. The cake you ate last week was also purportedly the best thing to ever happen to you.”
“It was very good cake.” So what if Donghyuck is a drama queen? “Some of us don’t meet the love of our life in high school, okay?” he laughs, softens, sighs. “Some of us meet them at 23 and have to make do.”
Taeil looks like Donghyuck just broke his heart, so Donghyuck steals some of Taeil’s pastry and goes back to talking about his day like nothing has happened. It tastes heavy in his mouth and the conversation floats along with chains on its ankles but if it’s the last time they can sit here together, well…
Donghyuck still leaves first. He heads up to pay both of their tabs and the barista gives him another coffee on the house. “Come back soon,” she says, overly cheerful, before looking over at Taeil uncertainly.
“Sure thing. Thanks.” Donghyuck salutes her with his coffee cup and slips a few bills in the tip jar.
Taeil is still staring out the window when Donghyuck walks away.
Donghyuck weighs in the chances that he’s going to cry while he flips through the numbers in his phone. He’s probably not going to cry, but he feels like he might, which immediately excludes Mark (who can’t comfort anyone at all) and also Taeyong (who worries too much).
He decides he probably needs some gentle coddling and a kick in the pants — maybe even an I told you so — so when he gets back to his apartment he kicks off his shoes, throws down his key, and calls Jeno.
“Hey!” Jeno chirps on the other end of the line. “Renjun’s here, too!”
“What’s up?” Renjun says in the background, far away but close enough to hear.
Renjun is always there. Donghyuck laughs to himself, just a little bit. “Nothing, really.” He pokes his head around the apartment and sees Jaehyun’s door is open, meaning his roommate is out. It’s probably for the best. Jaehyun also isn’t great at the whole comforting thing unless Donghyuck wants to cry for real. “Just got dumped a little.”
There’s clattering and then Renjun’s voice is much closer. “You got dumped?”
Donghyuck laughs. “Just a little.”
“Define a little.”
“Like…” Donghyuck sniffs something back. “Like he likes me but he dumped me anyway.”
“That bastard,” Renjun says darkly.
“None of that,” Donghyuck says. “Comfort first. Curses upon his family later.”
Whatever white noise was in the background — some shitty reality television, probably — is turned off and it seems a lot quieter than it had a moment ago. “I’m so sorry, Hyuck,” Jeno says, and it’s genuine. “I know you really liked him.”
Donghyuck flops backwards on his bed. One arm flying up to cover his forehead. “Yeah.” His voice is watery. He laughs. “Fuck. I really did.”
“Was it the boyfriend thing?” Renjun asks. “Because—”
“Is this going to be comforting, Renjun?” Donghyuck says pointedly.
“I feel like him being wrong and cruel should be very comforting,” Renjun sniffs. “If he knew he was going to dump you because of that, why string you along in the first place?”
Jeno laughs gently. “So the answer to that was no, it was not going to be comforting.”
Donghyuck turns onto his stomach. “I don’t think he was cruel.” He squishes his face against his pillow, cuddling it to his chest. “I think he was great.”
Neither one of them really knew what they were getting into. Taeil’s relationship was not casual — they’d been together for nearly ten years, and known each other even longer — but it was open in that both of them had hooked up with other people before. Taeil had never tried anything more serious than that, and Donghyuck had never been in a relationship where those sort of parameters needed to be set in place. When they’d been drawn to each other that first night, Johnny’s existence was freely mentioned and Donghyuck flirted anyway. It wasn’t until they crossed paths several times that either of them thought it was something worth pursuing.
Donghyuck remembers the first time Taeil tentatively held his hand and said, “I’m just gonna make shit up, okay?” and how he’d felt like the most important person in the whole world.
Renjun has no such bias. He wretches at the sad sounds Donghyuck is making now until Jeno loudly pushes him aside. “Renjun acts like he isn’t a romantic,” Jeno tells Donghyuck flatly.
“Jeno acts like he doesn’t think you’re stupid.”
And Donghyuck laughs, wiping snot from his face. No tears yet. It seems like this was the right call. “I’m still waiting to be comforted.”
“Do you want to come over?” Jeno asks. “Or I can leave the gremlin at home and come over there.”
Renjun protests loudly — not to being called a gremlin but to being left behind — and Donghyuck is already shaking his head. “I think Jaehyun has people coming over tonight.” And Donghyuck doesn’t really want to go out again.
“I’m really quiet,” Jeno argues, which is only true if they actually do leave Renjun behind. “And Jaehyun loves me.”
“Just ask if he minds,” Renjun prompts. “He can say no.”
Donghyuck buries his face in his pillow.
“Tomorrow is the weekend. What about breakfast?” Jeno offers after a long moment. “I can tell you you’re a good guy and Taeil doesn’t know what he’s missing and feed you pancakes until you can’t think anymore.”
“You are a good guy.” Renjun sounds very close to the phone now, and the rustling on the line suggests he’s wrestled it out of Jeno’s grip. “Even if you don’t listen to me! You’re a good guy and he’s wrong for breaking your heart. Even if it’s...” Renjun pauses, and when he speaks again it’s like Donghyuck might be fragile but Renjun’s not sure. “Even if it’s only a little bit.”
Donghyuck smiles. “Thanks. Breakfast sounds really good.”
“Make Jaehyun order in!” Jeno says suddenly.
“Yeah! He’s rich!”
“Renjun—”
“I’m right, though? He is.”
Donghyuck laughs again. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He hangs up the phone and listens to the silence.
There is the whirring of the fan, the rumble of the ice machine in the refrigerator, the clomping of the dog that lives upstairs, and the heartbeat in Donghyuck’s chest that’s just slightly too fast for comfort. He takes deep breaths. He holds his pillow tighter. He wonders whether Taeil went home to Johnny and was comforted by his most important person.
His phone dings.
Donghyuck takes a deep breath.
Donghyuck laughs, despite himself. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even send a thumbs up, or a cute emoji, or a clever witticism. He just stares at the chat and scrolls up months and months and months until he can’t scroll up any more, until he sees the trepid
and Taeil’s response.
“Good night, Taeil,” Donghyuck says aloud, before turning his phone and letting his brain follow suit.
“Dude, seriously?”
“I don’t seem to remember inviting Mark to this breakfast,” Donghyuck snips.
“This is not breakfast,” Renjun says simply. “This is brunch, and Mark is gay. What are we supposed to do? Not invite him?”
Mark frowns around his pancake. “I’m bi.”
Renjun rolls his eyes and shrugs. “In that case, you can go. Take Jeno with you.”
Jeno pouts. He might even try to glower, but he doesn’t have it in him when there’s this much food in front of him. There’s maple syrup on his fingers from his French toast. “I literally set this up?”
“Jeno has rights.” Donghyuck nods. “Jaemin isn’t here because he’s a het.”
Jaemin would probably pass out from offense, but he’s not here because he’s stuck studying for his graduate classes so he doesn’t get a say in anything.
“Hold up, hold up, back it up.” Mark’s eyes are saucers. “He was just like, ‘sorry man, choosing my boyfriend, see ya?’”
This is why Donghyuck didn’t call Mark yesterday, but at this point it just makes him laugh. “That’s a little insensitive, Mark.”
Mark might apologize to literally anyone else, but since it’s Donghyuck he just keeps eating his breakfast. “That’s fucked up, man.”
Donghyuck sighs. He hates to say he saw it coming — more than that, all of his friends told him it was coming for months and he just didn’t want to acknowledge it — but truthfully their relationship went on far longer than Donghyuck dared to hope. The few times Taeil waxed poetic about the virtues of his boyfriend, Johnny seemed like some kind of untouchable dream. Cute and nice and strong and funny and generous with a good job and good taste and he can cook sometimes. Donghyuck is only, like, three of those things.
“That is a self-deprecating sigh,” Renjun accuses, “which normally I would encourage but today do not accept.”
“He was super in love,” Donghyuck admits out loud for the first time. “He was like…” He swallows. “I never stood a chance, did I?”
“Taeil isn’t the type to string you along uselessly,” Jeno points out. “He just…”
“He wasn’t sure and he did it anyway.” Renjun stabs a fork into his fruit cup. “Which is shitty. I’ll say it.”
“I’m glad he did it, though?” Donghyuck muses. “Isn’t it better to do things for a little while instead of not at all?”
Mark swallows and takes a drink of terrible diner coffee. “I can’t believe you offered to date his boyfriend though.” He laughs so hard it comes out as a squeak. “Like, dude, what the fuck? How is that your first thought?”
Donghyuck groans. “I did not come here to be mocked.”
Mark wipes crumbs from his mouth and smears maple syrup across his cheek. “Why did you invite Renjun, then?”
The correct answer is because Donghyuck is a glutton for punishment (and also hates feeling anything serious for too long) but Renjun simply straightens up in his seat, affronted, and says, “I’ve been doing really good!”
“I seriously can’t be the only one thinking, like, what the fuck.” Mark laughs. If anyone else were saying Donghyuck would probably get mad — honestly, if Mark a year ago had said it Donghyuck definitely would have gotten mad, but he’s evolved as an adult. Matured. He pays taxes. He has a credit score.
Also Mark is like, not worth getting mad at since he’s kind of useless.
Donghyuck sighs, hands in his hair. He doesn’t want to admit Mark is right. Donghyuck himself had gone to bed thinking what the fuck ad naseum. He isn’t entirely sure why he thought that might make Taeil stay. He’d known it was over the second Taeil couldn’t look him in the eye. “I don’t know,” Donghyuck settles on. “I just thought...I don’t know.” He picks at his waffles. “I mean, if he’s dating Taeil he has to be pretty good, right?”
Jeno chokes on a carrot.
“Like, charming. Nice.” Donghyuck swats at Jeno with his napkin. Pauses. “He’s probably good in bed, too.”
“Do they even fuck?” Renjun asks.
“Renjun, that’s rude, man,” Mark says. His eyes are wide. He licks sugar off his fingertips. “Also their sex life isn’t any of our business.”
“It’s kind of our business,” Renjun snips, which is a lie. It’s kind of Donghyuck’s business, since Taeil had always been very hesitant to broach the topic regarding either of the people he was seeing, but Donghyuck won’t argue Renjun away from the Royal We. He knows it’s useless.
Donghyuck stirs more sugar into his coffee with the blade of his fork. He rests his chin on the heel of his hand. “They do fuck.” He has seen the evidence, pressed his fingers into the hollow of Taeil’s throat where his skin was littered with bruises. “They absolutely do fuck.”
“It’d be fine if they didn’t fuck,” Jeno says. “Some people don’t fuck.”
“Some people don’t fuck,” Renjun acquiesces.
“They definitely fuck.” Donghyuck is starting to sound a little bitter now. “They fuck a lot.” Not that he can blame them. If he and Taeil were ever officially together maybe they’d fuck a lot, too. Maybe.
Mark hums. “I’m surprised. You said they’ve been together for a long time.”
“Since high school.”
“How old is Taeil?”
“He’s 28.”
Mark whistles.
Donghyuck kicks him in the shin because he’s unhelpful.
Renjun is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He watches Jeno steal sausage from his plate idly, his mind far away. “How old is Johnny?”
Donghyuck honestly doesn’t know. “I’m assuming a similar age.” They’d met in high school after all — most people didn’t date too far out of their class. “I don’t know much about him, honestly. Just that he’s cute and Taeil likes him a lot.”
“Dude,” Mark says. “What if he’s actually a troll and Taeil just has rose-colored glasses and you were just like, ‘sure, I’ll date him.’ That’s nuts.”
Jeno frowns, taking a bite of his sausage. “I feel like none of us are doing great on the ‘sensitivity’ today.”
Yesterday, this might have sent Donghyuck in an emotional spiral. Now, he just laughs. “I don’t think he’s a troll, but…” He huffs. The waiter hasn’t come by in a while and his glass is half-empty. His coffee is a bit cold from all the milk he’s added but the waffles are good and Donghyuck doesn’t want to move.
Renjuun stabs at his breakfast too aggressively and the sound makes the nearest busser look over in shock. “What if we Facebook stalk this guy and talk about how terrible he is?”
Donghyuck pumps his fists at the same time Jeno says, “Renjun, no.”
Mark is already on his phone. He doesn’t have much social media anymore — a Soundcloud that does surprisingly well and a Twitter account that gathers dust until he wants to hit on someone — but he’s a professional social media stalker. “What’s his last name?”
Donghyuck doesn’t actually know. “Taeil’s is Moon.”
Renjun snickers. “Are they married? How does that answer the question?” But Mark is already pulling up Taeil’s page and scrolling through his photos and friends.
“Dude, I thought you said he was old. Why isn’t he posting on Facebook more?” Mark whines. He pauses. “He is super cute though.”
Donghyuck would kick Mark on the shin again except he’s right and Donghyuck can’t begrudge him for it.
“There’s a lot of like, candids.”
“Yeah.” Donghyuck sighs. He’s been through Taeil’s page a million times. There are a lot of good photos of him, professional and comfortable and everything in between. “Someone in their friend group is a photographer, I think.”
Mark laughs. “Johnny Suh?”
“Hmm?”
“His last name is Suh?” Mark shows Donghyuck his phone, pulling up the person who tagged Taeil in a million and one photos.
Donghyuck snatches the phone out of Mark’s hands. “Huh.” He’d never noticed.
Johnny’s profile isn’t super personal. In bold letters at the top it says John Jun Suh, that he works at some clothing store (probably outdated), and that he’s In a Relationship. His profile picture is one of those aesthetic photos, just the outfit from the neck down, but it’s just a long body wearing a big pink sweater and nice pants. His socks don’t match and his shoes are conspicuously tossed to the side, just in frame.
“That’s a weird photo.” Donghyuck hums, clicking through his profile. His timeline is mostly articles about local art exhibits, restaurants, bands, and funny videos. There are a lot of pictures of dogs, most of which are tagging Taeil and to all of which Taeil has replied, “Johnny, no.”
His other photos are similarly impersonal. They’re all photos of other people, mostly Taeil in various stages of adorableness. Some more outfit shots, some of landscapes and food that are cross-posted from Instagram, but mostly there are photos of people. Friends, some guy who looks a little scary and also vaguely familiar, and then — “Is that Jaehyun?”
“Let me see.” Renjun plucks the phone away from Donghyuck. “Oh. Yeah. Fuck.”
Jeno looks over Renjun’s shoulder curiously. “Which one?”
Renjun points.
“That’s Jaehyun?”
Donghyuck scoffs. “He’s literally my roommate. What do you mean? You’ve literally seen him before.”
Jeno frowns. “Have I?”
“Maybe you haven’t,” Donghyuck allows, filching the phone out of Renjun’s grip (to the side Mark grumbles about his phone being hot potato, but everyone dutifully ignores him). “He’s not home often.”
Jaehyun is a very rich, very attractive, very confusing person who paid his first three months rent to Donghyuck in cash the first time they’d met and hides in his room most of the time. Donghyuck might have suspected Jaehyun was on the run from the law if he hadn’t had his own Wikipedia page. There’s nothing on there other than that he’s rich and attractive, and comes from a long line of other people who are rich and attractive. He’s willing to bet they’re also very confusing.
Donghyuck adds to his mental list of information that Jaehyun also appears to know Johnny.
It definitely is him, laughing in a dark room with what looks like wine in a plastic cup. He’s laughing at the person behind the camera, and there’s that vaguely scary looking person with his arm around Jaehyun’s shoulders.
Donghyuck sends the picture to Jaehyun and asks, .
To which Jaehyun promptly replies,
“Why is Jaehyun so gay but his vibes are so straight?” Renjun asks the general public.
Donghyuck is more interested in getting Johnny’s number. “Because he’s rich.” He’s barely paying attention to breakfast anymore, not that he was in the first place. All of their food is cold and the coffee is already starting to go crummy at the bottom of his mug.
Jeno is the only one still watching Donghyuck type away. Renjun and Mark have already moved on to stealing food off each other’s plate, and Donghyuck is so engrossed in his conversation with Jaehyun he barely notices when Jeno starts reading the messages over his shoulder.
“Hey.” Donghyuck tries to block Jeno’s view with his shoulder, half-recognizing that some of it might be a bit incriminating — the back and forth of trying to figure out Johnny’s schedule, what he’s like, bypassing Jaehyun’s courtesy to ask Johnny before he sends a stranger his number. “No peeking. What if I was looking at nudes?”
“On my phone?” Mark demands.
“Yeah? They’re your nudes.”
“Dude, what the fuck.”
“He’s not looking at nudes,” Jeno says simply, flicking Donghyuck’s ear.
“But now we know Mark has nudes on his phone.” Donghyuck waves Mark’s phone in air, expression gleeful. “I consider that a win.” He would also consider a successful change of topic, as Mark tends to get very distracting when he’s embarrassed, except Jaehyun texts him back and says—
Quite frankly, Donghyuck thinks that Jaehyun is underestimating him, but he keeps that thought to himself as he nettles Jaehyun for the correct library, the section Johnny might be in. Jaehyun describes Johnny as, very handsome, giant camera, designer jacket, can’t miss him!
That sounds seducable. That sounds vague and promising enough that Donghyuck’s stomach doesn’t churn at the idea of trying to flirt with someone for underhanded reasons.
“Hyuck,” Jeno says, his voice a warning. “I think Taeil is right, you know?”
“Probably,” Donghyuck muses. “About what, specifically?”
Jeno huffs, chewing on the end of his straw. He’s a loser who drinks water, but the conversation has bothered him enough he’s bitten the end to shreds. “The whole dating-someone-to-get-with-their-boyfriend is just a little…” Jeno grimaces. “It would bother me.”
“Lots of things bother you,” Renjun interjects, despite having no idea what anyone is talking about beyond wrestling Mark’s sausage out of his hand. “Like seasonal allergies and when people don’t say thank you.”
This wouldn’t be the first time their friend group teases Jeno for being the only one with morals, but he seems particularly beleaguered by it this time. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know that’s weird,” he tells Donghyuck quietly. “I know you care more than you like to.”
“Johnny is a big boy,” Donghyuck says after a long moment. Not even Jeno’s puppy eyes can make him back down from this. “He can take care of himself.”
Mark laughs and Renjun takes the opportunity to properly pilfer his meal. “You don’t even know him, dude.”
That’s also true.
“It’ll be fine.” Donghyuck tosses Mark his phone and casually returns to his pancakes. “Everything will be fine.” If this is what Taeil wants or needs or whatever, Donghyuck is willing. Is it questionable? Probably. But Donghyuck doesn’t think he’ll be able to put it past him if he doesn't try.
Despite the growing dread in his stomach, Donghyuck heads for the university library after breakfast bleeds into lunch and the sun is too high to continue putting it off any more. He can tell that Jeno — and even Renjun, to some degree — are trying to stall him, but Donghyuck knows he won’t do it if he doesn’t do it today.
“Good luck, man,” Mark says cheerfully as Donghyuck gets ready to leave. “I hope he’s really cute.”
Normally, whenever he is getting ready to make a stupid decision, he texts Taeil who then makes the choice whether to enable or talk him out of it. Usually he’s an enabler. Donghyuck pulls his phone out of his pocket and stares at Taeil’s chat for a very long time.
Instead, he shoves his phone in his pocket and walks into campus.
It’s a little strange being on campus on the weekend. Most of the student body commutes, so the entire valley is empty, and even despite that Donghyuck hasn’t had a reason to come here since he fulfilled all his in-person class requirements.
Which means it’s even more strange for Johnny to be here on the weekend, considering Johnny is probably even more removed from college life than Donghyuck is. The campus library is the best one of the area, but Donghyuck doesn’t know many people unaffiliated with the university who use it. He vaguely remembers Taeil mentioning that Johnny is around campus semi-regularly. He wonders if this is what Taeil had been talking about.
Jaehyun had mentioned that Johnny would be on the third floor in one of the study rooms. As Donghyuck walks up the steps, he repeats to himself, very handsome, giant camera, designer jacket, can’t miss him, and then, when that doesn’t calm him down—
This is for Taeil.
Not that his mantra helps. Donghyuck is wholly unprepared for the likes of Johnny Suh.
When he crests the last set of stairs Donghyuck looks at all around in a way he prays is casual. He sees one of the librarians teaching a student employee how to organize the books. He sees a couple of girls decidedly not studying in the corner, watching videos on each other’s phones. He sees the most beautiful man in the entire world in a study room, working away at his computer.
Donghyuck stops in his tracks in the hallway, heart thundering.
He really is a beautiful man. He has an interesting face, high cheekbones and an unusual jawline. His hair is kept off his face in a beanie (holy eyebrows, Batman) and his massive headphones are a jarring baby blue. Donghyuck has to take a moment to appreciate the visual before someone else is trying to climb the staircase and clears their throat pointedly at Donghyuck’s back.
When he looks back, the beautiful man is watching him shrewdly.
It’s a little strange, a heavier stare than Donghyuck is used to from strangers who aren’t trying to fuck him, and too sharp to be something positive. Donghyuck feels his breath hitch and his body freezes up like a deer in its last moments.
This man has the most beautiful eyes and they are very smug.
It’s only then that Donghyuck takes in the rest of the image. Very handsome, giant camera, designer jacket.
Can’t miss him.
The man smirks. It’s not mean, but it’s not kind.
Donghyuck turns on his heels in front of Johnny Suh and goes back down the stairs.
“You just left?”
Donghyuck is staring at his rice cooker like it has all the answers to the universe (which it doesn’t, although lunch is a decent second choice) and sighs. “He just...wasn’t what I expected.”
It’s an understatement. It’s also Donghyuck’s own fault. He’s been so against gathering any actual information on the man for so long — to the point where he would actively avoid the topic with Taeil — and he filled in the many gaps with will and whimsy. He always thought Taeil would gravitate towards someone soft, gentle, and very cute. Someone cuddly and funny and kind. Someone light.
Johnny Suh did not seem to be any of those things at first glance.
Donghyuck replays that stupid smirk on Johnny’s face over and over again. It’s been an entire twenty four hours and it’s tattooed on the back of his eyelids. The heavy gaze, almost condemning, almost condescending, but carefully not quite. If Donghyuck had the courage to look back after running away, he might have even seen a satisfied smile. Now, Donghyuck is wondering what he might have seen if he had the courage to stay.
“He just seemed…” Donghyuck can’t find the right words.
“What?” Renjun demands over speaker phone. “He seemed like he was your rival in love and you ran away like a little bitch?”
“I’m trying to decide whether you or Mark are less helpful,” Donghyuck notes idly.
“I’ve been nice to you for like a day and a half. It’s exhausting.”
Donghyuck laughs. He’s frying chicken and vegetables in a pan, allowing the sizzling to be mildly therapeutic, but his stomach is growling and he wishes he’d had the forethought to start sooner instead of freaking out for ten minutes. He also wishes he had called someone other than Renjun. “He just seemed like he’d be hard to talk to. I don’t know.” Not to mention way out of Donghyuck’s league. Beautiful in an intimidating way. Terrifying. Donghyuck’s heart races just thinking about it.
Renjun hums thoughtfully, or a good attempt at seeming thoughtful when Donghyuck knows very well he’s only paying half-attention. “Considering your nefarious ulterior motives, maybe he could sense your vibes.”
“They are rotten,” Donghyuck agrees.
He thinks about Taeil wanting to talk the night before and wonders if he’d be disappointed in Donghyuck doing something stupid. Normally stupid things are a bonding activity, but Donghyuck can’t think of a time something stupid involved something hurtful.
Like the devil called by name, Donghyuck’s phone pings with an alert:
Renjun has fallen into companionable silence — Donghyuck imagines Renjun is probably focused on a drawing or scraping paint out of his carpet — and Donghyuck takes the ding of his rice maker as a sign to answer his text messages.
Donghyuck laughs.
“What?” Renjun asks, though his voice is distant.
“Nothing.”
Donghyuck taps his thumb along the touch screen and thinks. He thinks and thinks and wonders if he should feel ashamed and then he wonders if he should feel ashamed that he feels no shame at all.
It’s a low blow. He huffs. “God, my vibes are so rotten.”
Renjun has no context and also no cares. “Yep.”
Suddenly the joke isn’t so funny anymore.
sorry. i didn’t mean to sound idk
i’m still sad
i should go
Donghyuck has already set his phone down and taken a deep breath when it pings again. He winces. He stalls, taking care of the rice cooker and moving the vegetables off of heat and asking Renjun non-committal questions about whatever he’s doing on the other end of the line.
“You don’t care,” Renjun says plainly, but he explains it anyway. It’s a short explanation of the image he’s drawing — a character for a children’s book he’s thinking of — before saying, “whatever you don’t want to do, just do it. Stop asking me stupid questions.”
“You’re a piece of shit,” Donghyuck replies, just as plain, but he sits down at this table with his lunch and goes to his text messages.
Donghyuck feels like shit. He’s more upset than he thought he would be, and more upset than he thinks he should be, and doesn’t want to be horrible to someone who doesn’t deserve it. His anger? He can’t help that he wants Taeil to know it exists, but being an asshole is too far.
He can’t stop himself from that either.
After he’s eaten, sated, and sulking, Donghyuck picks up his phone again to see his text read and unreplied to. He swallows his pride and the last of his rice and types out one last thing.
Renjun has long since ended the call, so when Donghyuck runs his hand down his face and says, “I’m an asshole,” it’s for his own benefit and no one else’s.
Taeil doesn’t reply, and Donghyuck stares at his dishes until he has the strength to get up and clean up his mess.
In the evening, Donghyuck is wrapped up on his couch in his underwear watching shitty B-movies when his phone dings again. He’s been sending Jaemin shitty cat memes all day, and he rifles through his blankets to excavate his phone, expecting to see something ridiculous instead of something confusing.
It’s an unknown number —
Donghyuck stares at it, looks up and around as though someone might be watching him through his window on the third floor. When there’s nothing, no one, he unlocks his phone and sees that the chat is brand new.
Donghyuck pauses his movie and squints at the chat.
The noise Donghyuck makes is inhuman. It’s gurgled, like he’s drowning, and he drops his phone back among the blankets and stares at the unmoving television screen for far too long. “Hey, Jaehyun?”
Jaehyun yells through his door, “yeah?”
“Did you give Johnny my number?”
“Yeah, man! This morning!” The door creaks open, and Donghyuck sees half of his cryptid roommates face, unnaturally handsome at this time of night. “Should I not have? Oh, wait, how did that go?”
“Well…” Donghyuck throws his hands in the air. The entire adventure was pretty much a bust, but he doesn’t necessarily want to tell Jaehyun that he chickened out and ran away when he realized Johnny was hot and intimidating. “I mean. We didn’t kiss.”
Jaehyun makes a disappointed expression. “Sorry, man. Maybe next time.” And then he shuts the door and leaves Donghyuck back to his thoughts.
With a deep breath, Donghyuck saves Johnny’s number and gathers what remains of his wit.
Donghyuck turns his movie back on with an aggressive click of the remote and crosses his arms over his chest. Leaving Johnny on read doesn’t feel satisfying at all. Johnny probably doesn’t care. Johnny is probably laughing at Donghyuck running out of the library like a little bitch. Johnny is probably laughing at Donghyuck, point blank.
I wouldn’t mind talking to you. Yeah, sure. Whatever.
Johnny doesn’t even look up when Donghyuck marches into the library and loudly clatters into the chair across from him.
In fact, Johnny seems incredibly unbothered. Pointedly unbothered. He’s tapping away at his computer doing whatever he is doing in a college library like a weirdo and without missing a beat says, “So, take two?” He’s smiling, just the corner of his mouth.
Donghyuck spent so long outside of the library debating whether his pettiness or curiosity should win out, and now he’s sitting here at the table having already worked himself up into a tizzy and he realizes, no matter what, Johnny already won. Donghyuck flushes in embarrassment.
But he can be curious and petty in equal measure, so he crosses his arms and glowers and says nothing.
Again, Johnny doesn’t care. His eyes flit up for a moment when he gets no response, but when he sees the expression on Donghyuck’s face he just smirks and goes back to his business.
Donghyuck just doesn’t see Taeil dating someone like this. Johnny is big and scary and he’s so...hot. He’s hot. He’s so hot that Donghyuck feels like he might burn up if he looks too closely.
Johnny isn’t wearing a hat today. His hair is dark and a style that Donghyuck decides to call Long on Purpose — it’s slicked back away from his face with product but still looks messy. Donghyuck doesn’t know what sort of person puts so much time into their hair just to go sit in a library, but whatever. He’s sitting here in his t-shirt and sweatpants and Johnny has his long coat artfully draped over the back of a chair. He looks much more adult today, casually fashionable, and Donghyuck looks like a child.
It tastes bitter.
It’s not that Taeil couldn’t get with someone like Johnny — he could, and quite frankly Johnny should be grateful — but rather that this person is nothing like what Taeil mentioned offhand. He seems arrogant and a bit cold and uncaring.
Of course, Johnny has no reason to be warm to Donghyuck.
“Are you just going to sit there?” Johnny asks idly, after fifteen minutes have passed. He’s got his headphones around his neck and Donghyuck can hear something soft and tinny coming from them.
Donghyuck opens his mouth to respond before remembering his vow of silence and hunkering down further in his seat.
It’s the last thing Johnny says to him.
“So...you’re telling me you just stared at him for thirty minutes and left without saying a single word?”
Renjun’s laughter is obnoxious and Donghyuck hates it, but at least Jeno is trying to seem helpful. His face is slack, and after a moment he goes red from trying to hold something back, which Donghyuck appreciates because Jeno is a real friend.
So Donghyuck has mercy and says, “You can laugh.”
Jeno laughs. He laughs once like the force of it hurts him, and then he giggles, and then Renjun screams laughter in his ear, and then he purposefully pieces himself together. The damage is already done — Donghyuck is kicking his ass in Mario Kart now — so it doesn’t matter. “That’s really...damn, Hyuck.”
“Yeah, I know.” Donghyuck crosses the finish line and sets his controller down. He hadn’t brought anything to work on at the library and his silence was a spur of the moment decision, so he’d played on his phone until it was at 20% and then collected his pride and walked out the door.
Johnny had seemed completely unsurprised by all of this, and even had the nerve to say, “See you tomorrow,” as Donghyuck left.
“He’s just so…” Donghyuck clenches his fist and can’t think of the word. Quite frankly, Donghyuck can’t think of any word to describe Johnny other than hot, intimidating, and stupid, because he doesn’t know Johnny at all. The feeling of him is massive, and Donghyuck takes up a lot of space all on his own. He’s never had a problem with...whatever this is.
Fuck. He’s shy. Johnny makes him shy.
“It’d be easier if he wanted to fuck me,” Donghyuck notes to the room. Then things would be straight-forward and easy.
This comment doesn’t make Renjun stop whooping loudly on the couch, but it does make Jeno frown and has the added bonus of being the truth.
“We’re not seducing Taeil’s boyfriend,” Jeno says definitively, as if he makes the rules when he can’t even win Mario Kart.
Donghyuck makes a face.
“We’re not.”
“Maybe you’re not,” Donghyuck chirps, mostly for effect. He’s not sure Johnny would touch him with a ten foot pole, and Taeil seems to think it would do more harm than good, but it’s fun to remind Jeno all his friends are terrible. “He’s sexy. He’s got this whole...RBF thing going on.”
Renjun snorts, laying upside down on the couch now with his legs up in the air. “That’s not even your type.” He tilts his head just enough to give Donghyuck a once-over. “You’re into, like, smiling.”
“Why did you say it like that?” Donghyuck demands, while Renjung grimaces. “Don’t make that face! You fucked Jeno. You like smiling.”
“It contorts the face.”
“Everybody likes smiling!”
“Untrue,” Renjun says, pointing an accusing finger at Jeno. “Jeno likes me.”
There are some logical fallacies there — Renjun does, in fact, smile, albeit like a gremlin, and Jeno has not officially declared any official feelings on the matter — but Jeno lights up fire engine red and can’t find anything to say for an entire minute, so Donghyuck lets it slide.
Truthfully, Donghyuck isn’t even sure he wants to seduce Johnny. When he’d mentioned it offhand to Taeil it had seemed attainable — a handsome, successful man who he already had something major in common with — but knowing that Johnny actively dislikes him paints the whole picture a different color.
Or, maybe it’s not that Johnny actively dislikes him, but rather has no reason to give Donghyuck the time of day and knows it. It even seems a little like Johnny revels in it, in the fact that he can be a bit cold and Donghyuck can’t judge him for it. Donghyuck doesn't know how he would react if their roles were switched.
He doesn’t think he’d want to share Taeil for anything.
Maybe that’s the root of the problem. Even when he and Taeil had been casually dating he hadn’t truly committed to sharing. He didn’t want to talk about Johnny, or know about the large portion of Taeil’s life that involved Johnny, because even if Donghyuck really knows that Taeil is in a relationship it doesn’t feel real until it’s in front of his face.
Now he has no Taeil and doesn’t even know where to start with Johnny Suh.
Donghyuck takes his phone out of his pocket and sends the text message without really thinking about it. Is this the reason he left that stupid cafe by himself? Is this the reason Taeil suddenly changed his mind? Because he could tell that Donghyuck wasn’t ready for that kind of relationship and everything fell out of balance?
For what it’s worth, Taeil texts him back almost immediately.
Donghyuck is so focused on furiously typing away that he has no time to counter attack when Renjun snatches his phone out of his fingers and starts absently scrolling through his chat log. His face curls into a sneer almost immediately — Donghyuck assumes whenever he reads the sender. “Texting an ex?” Renjun clicks his tongue. “I thought you were a bad bitch but you’re just mediocre.”
“I’m a mildly above average bitch,” Donghyuck protests with a sniff, reaching for his phone but not even slightly surprised when Renjun holds it out of his range. “At least.”
Jeno hooks his chin over Renjun’s shoulder and reads through the messages with a furrowed brow. He sure does frown at Donghyuck a lot lately. “You guys don’t text like exes,” he says, unsure.
“It’s not like we’re sexting.”
Renjun snorts. “You wish.”
“I feel like every time we’re insensitive we should donate a quarter or something,” Jeno grouses, straightening his spine and coming over to collapse beside Donghyuck on the couch and steal his controller. “You done?”
Donghyuck has a lot of things to think about, like how much Johnny is a liar. “For now.”
Jeno starts Rainbow Road because he loves pain. This is also why he is still friends with Donghyuck and why he fucked Renjun, so Donghyuck supposes they both should be thankful.
Honestly, everything Donghyuck learns about Johnny just cements that Donghyuck has no idea what the fuck is going on. What kind of game is he playing, where he says he tells Taeil everything and then blatantly lies like a liar for no reason? Oh, but he says it isn’t a game because he’s a pretentious fuckhead who thinks he’s better than Donghyuck because he has a real job and the most wonderful boyfriend in the world.
Renjun tosses Donghyuck’s phone on his lap. “There’s smoke coming out of your ears,” he chirps. “Are you angry or are you trying to form a single thought?”
Donghyuck bursts into an angry, forced laughter. “Ha ha ha.” He kicks out at Renjun’s shin and doesn’t even move out of the way when a felled Renjun fake collapses on top of him. The force jerks Jeno right off of Rainbow Row and also propels Renjun’s bony elbow into Donghyuck’s rib. They all lose.
Jeno makes a wounded noise and casually sets the controller down to try and adjust Renjun’s limbs into something more manageable.
“No, just leave me to suffer,” Donghyuck whines, to which Renjun digs his elbow into the fleshy part of his stomach and it’s definitely on purpose. “Thank you,” he says through a heave.
“Oh, get over it.” Renjun huffs. “So your ex-boyfriend has a hotter boyfriend. That’s just another day for you.”
Donghyuck rolls Renjun off the couch and onto the floor.
Donghyuck slaps his computer down on the library table with more force than is necessary, and when Johnny looks up at him Donghyuck is already glaring at him.
His response is a simple and tempered, “third time’s the charm, eh?” before watching Donghyuck set up his work station with amusement.
Donghyuck doesn’t want to think about the ramifications of him bringing his work to the library — that it acknowledges why Donghyuck left so awkwardly the last week, or that it means he’s staying for a long time today — but it’s the only thing Donghyuck could think of to keep him here against his better judgement. He primly opens up his laptop and plugs it in because it only lasts twenty minutes not charging and starts answering emails.
Johnny seems to sense this shift in resolve, because Donghyuck can feel eyes on him throughout the entire process, but when he looks at Johnny over the edge of his computer Johnny is back to minding his own business.
Today, Johnny’s hair is in a ponytail and he’s wearing a button up with the sleeve rolled to the elbow. There’s a bandage on the back of one hand and the other forearm is covered in ink. Donghyuck tries not to look for too long. But his mind latches onto the shapes until he can make them out — flowers, an entire garden on his skin.
Donghyuck sighs. So Johnny is that kind of gay, huh? It doesn’t seem to fit. It does, however, make him hotter, which is unfortunate. Donghyuck clenches his jaw and looks back at his computer screen.
“You came all the way here and you’re not gonna say anything?” Johnny asks idly, after nearly ten minutes of silence.
“Weren’t you the one that wanted to talk to me?” Donghyuck retorts sullenly.
Johnny shrugs. “I said I wouldn’t mind.”
“Okay.” Donghyuck goes back to his computer. “Then yeah, I came all the way here and I’m not gonna say anything.” He doesn’t care if it seems childish — it is childish in most ways, because compared to them he’s younger and doesn’t know what he’s doing, whatever. He only feels a little bit stupid about it, clacking away at his keyboard.
Johnny goes back to his work.
It’s stupid because Donghyuck does actually want to talk to Johnny. He can’t seduce someone who wants nothing to do with him by being a brat, but he also doesn’t know what to say. He was running through all the things he might throw down on his way over here, all the lines he can cook up, and none of them feel right; Donghyuck imagines looking Johnny in the face and feeding him a line and immediately wants to die. He can’t. He can’t do it.
He hates feeling like he can’t do anything.
Donghyuck slams his computer shut. “Why did you tell Taeil we had a good time?”
Johnny looks like he’d been expecting this, his face amused for a moment before settling into something more neutral. Infuriating. “Hmm?’
“Don’t hmm me.” Donghyuck leans forward in his seat, gaze shrewd. “You told Taeil we had a good time.”
“And you told him I’m a liar.” Johnny takes a long drink of his coffee — reusable cup, metal straw, dancing bears along the plastic. He looks Donghyuck carefully up and down. “Which I resent. I had a pleasant day.”
“You are a liar,” Donghyuck hisses. “I want to know why.”
Johnny shrugs. “He knew I was lying.”
As if that makes it any better. “That’s not a reason to lie. That’s just a reason you’re a shitty liar.” Donghyuck throws his pen at Johnny’s chest and watches it bounce off like a toy.
It’s the first time Johnny looks genuinely surprised at anything Donghyuck has done, which makes that childish part of Donghyuck extremely pleased and also a little terrified. Donghyuck’s not actually sure what Johnny’s temper is like. Normally he feels out the boundaries before nettling people, but Johnny got under his skin too early for no good reason and now all of Donghyuck’s wavering morals are out the window.
Johnny stares at the pencil slowly rolling away on the floor before sitting back in his chair with a sigh. “What’s it matter? You want Taeil to be pissed at you?”
Donghyuck crosses his arms. “I just think it’s funny how you ‘tell each other everything’ but lie about something stupid.”
“This is stupid,” Johnny agrees, and Donghyuck wants to snarl but controls himself and pulls at his own hair instead. He has no idea why it’s bothering him so much. He has no idea any more. “I didn’t want Taeil to be more upset than he already was. Is that good enough for you?”
With a small sound, Donghyuck rests his head on the table and says, “No.”
It’s quiet. Donghyuck can’t see what kind of face Johnny is making because he’s inspecting the grain in the wooden table, but it doesn’t matter anyway because Johnny is annoying and probably just looks proud of himself.
What is Donghyuck even doing? He sits back in his chair, stiff upper lip, and looks at Johnny with narrow eyes. Once again, Johnny looks like he’s expecting something, and Donghyuck knows what it is but when he opens his mouth to say he chokes on ash and spit and other disappointing things. “You’re right.” Donghyuck laughs a little, running his hand through his hair. “This is stupid.” He picks up his computer, slides it into its case, and starts pushing it into his bag.
“That’s it?” Johnny is looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’re gonna say three things and leave?”
“Why are you only chatty to be snippy?” Donghyuck asks, snippy himself. He shuffles awkwardly out from the table, throwing his stuff together in a way he hopes doesn’t betray he’s thought better of a bad idea. “But yeah.”
“You’ll never seduce me that way.” Like it’s a joke.
It kind of is. Donghyuck flips him the bird and walks out of the room.
Donghyuck’s biggest regret about the whole Johnny thing is that he’s decided he’s never going back to the library ever again but he definitely left his charger there. It’s quite the conundrum.
“Everyday your stupidity astounds me,” Renjun says.
“I taught you that word,” Donghyuck chirps, reaching for Renjun’s computer charger.
“Stupidity?”
Donghyuck laughs at the joke despite himself, and it appeases Renjun enough that he doesn’t kick Donghyuck’s hand away as he plucks the charger from the table and plugs in his computer. “I guess I will simply never see my charger again. It’s gone forever.” He sighs, overly serious. “How unfortunate.”
“You could just go see if he turned it in.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Donghyuck chirps, watching his computer start whirring to life. “I can never acknowledge his presence ever again, under oath.” There was no oath. Renjun knows there was no oath. In Donghyuck’s mind he and Johnny swore it in blood on Donghyuck’s way out of the library, but Johnny probably didn’t care that Donghyuck left anyway.
He sighs for real.
“It’s like you’re pining but over someone you hate,” Renjun notes. He’s drawing on his tablet, but whatever it is must not be very important because he deigns to look in Donghyuck’s direction. His stylus flips around his fingers. “Or is it still Taeil?”
“Vicariously, it’s still Taeil.” Donghyuck pulls up his work on the computer and lets his hands hover over the keyboard. He hasn’t worked on this since he left Johnny behind the other day, the moment frozen in time via a scatter-brained sentence without resolution. “I just, like—how can Taeil date someone like that?”
Renjun rolls his eyes. “You haven’t even properly talked to the guy.”
“Yeah! Who’s fault is that?”
“I’m sure it’s mutual.” Renjun clicks his tongue. “I’d hate to know what he thinks of you. Do you think this color is ugly?”
Donghyuck’s brain trips over the previous sentence before realizing that Renjun is asking him a question. “I think it’s great,” he says, looking at Renjun’s tablet, even though he thinks it’s ugly.
Renjun clears the layer and starts over with a hum.
It’s family dinner night and it’s Jeno and Mark’s turn to cook which means it’s actually Donghyuck’s turn to cook. He heads to the store by Jaemin’s house and picks up enough meat to serve seven boys with voids where their stomachs should be. “Pork belly!” Jaemin is telling him over the phone, “and get those cold noodles Renjun likes.”
“Am I shopping for Renjun?” Donghyuck notes, only slightly acidic. He already grabbed the cold noodles Renjun likes. “Should I get ice cream?”
“I have some I think—” There’s rustling as Jaemin moves shit around in his freezer. “I have...mint choco and vanilla. I’ve got some fruit here, too. Wait, shit. I need eggs. Get eggs.”
“Beer?”
“No, thanks.”
Donghyuck dumps beer in the cart and starts looking for strawberry juice.
Jaemin lists the vegetables he has slightly crushed in his refrigerator, and together they do the shopping from two separate buildings and come up with some sort of plan that is manageable. Donghyuck’s head is already aching by the time he counts up whatever is in his cart. It’s so much food. He knows they’ll eat it all. He knows he will be keeping the receipt and Mark will be paying him back.
He’s adding up everything in his head when he nearly runs someone over by the canned goods. “Shit. Shit, sorry.” He swerves the cart just in time and watches the asparagus he just bagged flop over the edge towards the ground.
It’s Taeil — of course it’s Taeil — who reaches to catch it before it plops onto the dirty linoleum floor. He freezes, crouched down and looking up at Donghyuck with the vegetables in his hand. “Uh…” Awkwardly he sets the bag down atop Donghyuck’s mountain of groceries. “Hi.”
Donghyuck leans heavily on the handle of his cart. “Hey,” he says. He doesn’t even sound that affectedx and he’s proud of himself. His heart shakes a little. He swallows, thick.
Taeil is wearing a big sweater, bright orange, and his hair is unstyled. His cheeks are flushed. He’s so...Taeil looks just as pretty as he had the last time Donghyuck saw him, sitting in the window seat of that cafe nervously chewing his lip to shreds.
I have a boyfriend. It hasn’t even been three weeks.
It’s been almost three weeks. Fuck. Shit.
Donghyuck releases the tension in his shoulders and offers Taeil a quiet smile. The cart rolls back into his chest with a small oof and he straightens his back to shove his restless hands in his pockets. “Come here often?”
A small joke, but Taeil frowns anyway. “I live around here.”
“Oh.” Donghyuck has never been over to Taeil’s apartment. It always felt a little bit like something he shouldn’t touch. “My friend lives nearby. We’re doing dinner at his place this week.”
Taeil looks at Donghyuck’s packed cart. “Quite the get together.”
“Yeah. The seven of us.” Donghyuck isn’t sure that Taeil knows all of his friends by name. He definitely knows Renjun, because Donghyuck complains about him all the time, and Mark, because Donghyuck laughs at him all the time, and maybe even Jeno. The others…
“Family dinner. I remember.” Taeil smiles tightly. He’s got two cans of soup in his hand and a pack of toilet paper under his armpit but he still looks charming. “It’s usually at Jaemin’s right? I didn’t realize he lived so close.”
Donghyuck’s throat is dry. “Yeah. Like...not even ten minutes away.”
“I’ve probably seen him here, then.”
This isn’t what either of them particularly want to talk about. Taeil licks his lips and rocks back on his heels. His sweater is enormous on him. He’s always liked bigger clothes, but now that Donghyuck has met his boyfriend he wonders if maybe they just share a closet.
“I’m sorry about Johnny,” Donghyuck says.
“What’d you do to him?” Taeil asks, smile quirking on his face, but his eyes say he knows what Donghyuck is talking about.
“Accosted him while he’s working?” Donghyuck offers.
The other shoppers are milling around them. Donghyuck carefully guides his cart closer to the aisle by the soup no one wants as an older woman zooms past on her ECV. Taeil bows to her in that endearing, stilted way he has, but his eyes return to Donghyuck immediately like a magnet. Donghyuck knows the feeling.
“Johnny would have just told you to leave if he wanted to,” Taeil says, and Donghyuck’s so lost in thinking about how pretty Taeil is he has to grasp to catch the threads of the conversation. Taeil is already reconsidering what he said, so it gives Donghyuck time to catch up. “Or, well...maybe he wouldn’t have. He’s too polite, sometimes.”
Donghyuck snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think that would have been a problem.” He chews on the inside of his mouth and rolls the cart back and forth. He’s fidgety. He wants to reach out, he wants to run away. He feels silly. It’s not good or bad, just silly and senseless. “I know you didn’t want me to try anything.”
“Well.” Taeil laughs, scratching his neck. He needs a haircut; his hair is starting to cover his eyes. His eyelashes make his fringe bounce. Taeil hates that. “It doesn’t sound like you did, anyway.”
“Not really.” He wanted to. Donghyuck had wanted to so badly. “I…” He sighs, grimaces. Awkward. He shoves his hands in his pockets.“I really would have done anything for you. You know that, right?”
Donghyuck isn’t sure what he’s looking for. In most ways, Taeil gave him the closure he needed — he still liked Donghyuck but it wasn’t going to work for this specific reason, and no, he doesn’t want Donghyuck to try to solve the problem. Donghyuck isn’t sure why he still feels like the door is open.
What is Taeil supposed to say, anyway? Sorry it ended that way, maybe, but Donghyuck can’t really begrudge him that ending either.
It doesn’t matter. Taeil doesn’t reply to what Donghyuck said at all. He just flounders a little, adjusts the toilet paper under his arm, and says, “Hey. I have your computer charger in my apartment.”
Donghyuck blinks. “Huh?”
“I mean—” Taeil’s eyes are everywhere now: Donghyuck’s face, his hands, the cart between them, the soup, then finally the watch on his wrist. “Do you have time to stop by before your dinner? You can just...pick it up really fast. You know.” He clears his throat. “If you want.”
It’s still early. Donghyuck just got off work not an hour ago, and no one is prompt enough to show up at Jaemin’s for at least another hour. “I have time.” He frowns. “Are you…?” He isn’t sure why he’s hesitating.
“Johnny’s not home,” Taeil says, as if maybe that’s the problem.
Donghyuck thinks about it and finds that’s not the problem at all. He grips the cart with sweaty hands. He needs that charger anyway. What’s the harm? “Sure.” The produce will last an extra twenty minutes in his car.
Taeil smiles and it’s worth the uncertainty. “Okay, good. I just have to…” He holds up his soup.
“Yeah, same.” Donghyuck pats the asparagus topper to his grocery mountain.
“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll meet you at check-out.”
Donghyuck laughs a little. “I mean, unless you want a third can of soup it looks like we’re both done. We can just...go to check-out.”
“We can do that, yeah.” Taeil looks flushed head to toe.
The lady in her ECV coughs pointedly and Taeil grabs hold of the cart by the front and drags them both out of the aisle.
It’s not very far to Taeil’s apartment complex at all. Taeil had walked to the store to get his soup and was planning on lugging the toilet paper down the city street, so he hops in Donghyuck’s car and points in the right direction. This is a nicer area — it’s one of the reasons why they have these dinner’s at Jaemin’s place — and Taeil buzzes them up before leading Donghyuck up two flights of stairs.
“It won’t take long,” he assures Donghyuck, as though he’s nervous Donghyuck might realize this isn’t worth it and leave. “I have to find it but—”
“It’s fine,” Donghyuck assures him. He laughs a little. “I have plenty of time.” He’s more worried about the meat in his car than he is about the fifteen minute drive to Jaemin’s house afterwards.
Donghyuck won’t say he never thought about visiting Taeil’s apartment. He’d never been invited over, although he thinks that’s more his own aversion to Johnny than because Taeil wouldn’t have wanted him there. Sometimes, they would part ways after a date and Donghyuck would wonder what it’d be like to let Taeil lead him home. He wondered what it’d be like to curl up together for the night and just exist quietly in the same space.
Taeil had only stayed over at Donghyuck’s place once.
Donghyuck’s stomach is sour when Taeil unlocks the door and welcomes him inside.
There’s a pile of shoes by the front door. Mostly it’s sandals and sneakers — some of them Donghyuck recognizes as Taeil’s — but there are gently scuffed dress shoes and nice boots that must be Johnny’s. A scarf hangs on the rack alongside a long coat that would brush the floor if Taeil were to wear it. Taeil hangs up his keys on a peg without a thought and wanders further into the apartment.
Gently, Donghyuck takes off his boots and pads into the apartment. The entire place is painted in warm creams and browns, with splashes of greens and reds and yellows. None of the furniture matches but everything goes together, a clash of patterns and shades that feel lived in and homey. There are no dishes in the sink when they pass the kitchen. There’s a mostly-burned scented candle on the kitchen table and unfolded laundry on the couch like someone had started the chore before remembering they were out of toilet paper and left in a rush.
Taeil sets his few items on the kitchen counter before pushing forward into the master bedroom. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go look.”
Donghyuck makes a non-committal noise. He feels stiff and loose all at once, like he both should and shouldn’t be here. He breathes out through his nose and leans against the counter while Taeil shuffles through his room.
He isn’t sure where to look, what’s private — what’s Johnny’s. There are photographs everywhere. Much like the furniture, nothing matches; all of the frames are different colors and sizes, and the subject matter seems eclectic. There are snowy cityscapes, photographs taken in museums, candids of people that Donghyuck doesn’t recognize. There are a few portraits, probably family members, yearbook photos, holiday cards. An entire portion of the wall in the living is devoted to pictures of Very Large Things. Johnny and Taeil in front of a giant rocking chair, a giant vacuum cleaner, Taeil grinning in front of a pizza that takes up the entire table.
Taeil is all over the place. His hands are everywhere, his smile is everywhere, all of these photos taken knowingly or unknowingly over years and years. Photographs from marching band, from college and high school graduation, from trips and birthdays and good mornings and good nights. It makes Donghyuck melt.
This apartment is a love letter to Taeil, and it’s all Johnny’s.
Comparably, Johnny doesn’t show up nearly as much. Donghyuck assumes that’s because it’s usually Johnny behind the camera. The photographs that are there are much less flattering. Taeil looks mostly the same as he did when he was younger, but it looks like Johnny has always been a little more adventurous. His long hair when he was a teenager flops over his eyes, and it’s cropped short in college.
Donghyuck picks up a picture that’s set out on the side table. Johnny is sitting in Taeil’s lap in an orchard, arms laden with red and yellow apples, and Taeil’s smiling so wide his eyes look like the moon. Their faces are flushed. Johnny’s nose is red. Taeil looks so happy he might explode.
Donghyuck sets the photo down with a shaky breath, watery, and finds Taeil standing in the doorway watching him. “Sorry.” He quickly wipes his nose and puts his hands back in his pockets. “I was just looking.”
“It’s fine.” Taeil comes over and picks up the frame. He laughs a little, small. “This was years ago. We were visiting his family. His mom took this photo. He looks just like her.”
“She must be pretty,” Donghyuck says casually.
Taeil looks at Donghyuck, unsure. “She is.”
They’re so close that Donghyuck can smell the outside air on Taeil’s skin, can smell the freshly laundered lavender of his shirt. God, Renjun would be yelling at him right now. Renjun will be yelling at him in approximately an hour, when he rolls into Jaemin’s house and his Donghyuck’s an idiot senses start tingling.
But still tugs gently at Taeil’s shirt sleeve and says, “I want to know about your life.”
Taeil laughs. “What? My high school yearbook photos hooked you in, huh?”
“No.” It’s not a joke. Donghyuck isn’t laughing. He’s digging through the ruins of his heartbreak to find the words he should have said a long time ago. He can’t quite hold on to them and he huffs, frustrated. “Sorry.” He rubs his head. “Sorry I, like…”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Hyuck,” Taeil tells him. He pushes his hair out of his face and looks up at Donghyuck with clear eyes. He feels older, feels like Donghyuck doesn’t deserve him. “It wasn’t your fault, anyway.”
No. Maybe. “I know that Johnny is a big part of your life. I know you can’t live without him. I get it.” Donghyuck looks at the pictures on the walls. His throat feels thick again. “I just...kind of hoped I could be like that, too.” He laughs. “Is that stupid?”
Taeil is making a face. It’s not a great face. “Donghyuck—”
“—Seriously, it’s fine.” He rubs his eyes. He hopes only Jaemin is at the house when he gets there. Jaemin will ignore it if he cries. “I know. We don’t really know each other that well. We were just...trying.”
“That’s not the problem, Donghyuck.” Taeil takes Donghyuck’s hand and holds it loosely between them. “It was just like...it was something new. And I realized...that it was harder than I thought it would be. That’s my fault. It wasn’t fair.”
“Ugh.” Donghyuck shakes off his sadness. “God, you sound like Renjun. He’s mad because you didn’t know. That’s not fair of either of you.” He sighs and dabs at his eyes. “Gross.” He flicks saltwater onto the floor. “It’s better that I met you. I’m happy we had a little while, even if you changed your mind.”
Taeil hums. “Me, too.”
“And Johnny seems...nice,” Donghyuck lies through his teeth.
Taeil laughs. “That sounded like it hurt.”
“God, it did.” Donghyuck shudders dramatically. “He’s so stand-offish. Not like you described at all. 3/10, would not seduce.”
“That’s not a way I’ve heard him described before, I’ll admit.”
Donghyuck shrugs. “Maybe I’m just special.” Whatever the worst side of Johnny is, Donghyuck suspects he got the brunt of it. Still, if that’s Johnny’s worst it’s not too bad. At Donghyuck’s worst he was going to date Johnny to get to Taeil.
“He can be like that, sometimes.” Taeil looks at nothing, something fond in his eyes. “He makes up for it.”
“Yeah.” Donghyuck can imagine. “I’ve heard he’s a good kisser.”
Taeil raises an eyebrow.
He flushes. “Jaehyun.”
“Oh.” Taeil nods. “Yeah. Jaehyun would know.”
Something sours in Donghyuck’s stomach. “They...hook up often?”
“Often enough that it’s normal.” Taeil shrugs. “I think Jaehyun is seeing someone now, though.”
“Do you think…” Donghyuck takes a deep breath. “Never mind.”
It’s strangely quiet, oddly comfortable and uncomfortable all at once. “You can say what’s on your mind, Hyuck,” Taeil tells him. “I owe you that much.”
“Do you think we could...do that?” Donghyuck asks. When the words come out they already sound silly. “I mean like, if you’re okay with hooking up but don’t really want a relationship...I could do that, too.” It would suck. It would suck so bad. “I would do that.”
Taeil drops Donghyuck’s hand after a long moment. His face is a little dark. “I don’t think so.”
“I would,” Donghyuck presses. “Like, if you don’t want anything else I’ll…” He swallows. “Taeil, I’ll take whatever you’ll give. I miss you sending me stupid memes you don’t understand and I miss sending all the pictures of the cats I see outside and I miss like…” I miss you.
It hasn’t even been three weeks.
Taeil touches Donghyuck’s cheek. “Those don’t sound like hookup things.”
“No.” Donghyuck laughs. “I’ll…” He feels like a kid confessing to his first crush. He feels like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to. He feels like he’s asking for too much and not enough. He feels stupid. “I love you. I’m in love with you. God, I think you’re the best thing in the whole world. I’ll be your hookup if I can’t be anything else.”
It isn’t fair of him. It isn’t fair to him.
“Tell me I’m stupid, please,” Donghyuck whispers, because Taeil is looking at him and it’s giving him more hope than he can handle.
Taeil pulls Donghyuck in by the collar of his shirt and kisses him on the mouth. Donghyuck stumbles into him, shocked and surprised and stupid, and then he stumbles a little further until they’re chest to chest and Taeil drinks him in like a man in the desert. This is a bad idea, he thinks when he bites at Taeil’s lip. This is going to hurt me, he thinks when Taeil slips his hands into Donghyuck’s back pocket. Renjun is going to kill me, he thinks when Taeil falls back onto the couch and takes Donghyuck with him.
It’s like fireworks go off. It’s like coming home. It’s like snapping into place.
Donghyuck whimpers against Taeil and Taeil laughs and keeps kissing him. He throws his arms around Donghyuck’s neck and tucks them together sweetly. Taeil kisses his cheek and Donghyuck kisses Taeil’s forehead and eyelids and jaw and then whines before kissing his mouth again.
I’ll be this for you, if it’s all you want from me.
Tell me I’m stupid.
“Donghyuck,” Taeil says, propping himself up on his elbows when they come up for air. “You’re—”
The lock to the front door turns and Taeil freezes, deer and headlights. Donghyuck watches every expression on his face — the surprise, the revelation, the guilt, the regret — and quietly slips off of Taeil until he’s kneeling on the floor at Taeil’s feet.
“Hey,” he hears Johnny say from behind, and then the sudden stillness before Johnny hangs his keys on the rack next to Taeil’s.
Donghyuck drops his head onto Taeil’s knee and breathes in deeply. Let Johnny see him like this, whatever. He’s stupid. Donghyuck is stupid. Johnny already thinks the worst of him.
“Hey, Donghyuck,” Johnny says, and when Donghyuck finally gathers his pieces off of the ground he finds Johnny standing casually in the living room, face passive. He doesn’t seem angry. He doesn’t seem surprised. He doesn’t seem anything, and Donghyuck feels like a worm curled up on the floor. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
The tension in the room hangs and no one knows where to put it. Taeil doesn’t say anything. Johnny doesn’t say anything else. It’s as if everyone is afraid of pushing things one way or the other.
In the end, it’s not Donghyuck’s decision; he’s always just had to make do. “I was just leaving,” he assures Johnny with a sigh, standing up. He wipes his nose again. Someone has dumped a bucket of cold water over his head and it makes him shiver. What a wreck. “Sorry to intrude.”
“I was going to give him his charger back.” Taeil sits up on the couch, straightening himself out. His cheeks are red and his mouth is red and it’s cute and terrible. Donghyuck feels terrible. “I, uh...I couldn’t find it.”
Johnny hums, still stoic, and Donghyuck can tell that it’s making Taeil nervous because he’s fidgeting on the couch. Quietly, Johnny reaches into his bag and pulls out the wrapped cord of Donghyuck’s computer charger and holds it out.
Wordlessly, Donghyuck steps forward to take it. Johnny smells like cologne and the must of the library. His hair is tied back and there are dark circles under his eyes. Ink leaves poke out of the low-cut of his collar.
“I thought you’d come by the library,” Johnny tells him softly as Donghyuck’s fingers curl around the cord. “So I kept it.”
Johnny has that peculiar effect on Donghyuck; he can feel himself quiet even further, the nerves shifting into something soft and shy and so embarrassed. “Thanks, I guess,” he says, tucking his changer into the pocket of his pants.
Donghyuck isn’t sure whether he likes Johnny at all. His stomach is in knots and it’s only half Johnny’s fault. God. So stupid. “I should go.”
“Oh. That’s right.” Taeil stands up from the couch. He looks kiss drunk. His hair is a ruffled mess and he leans forward when he talks, swaying into Donghyuck’s space. “Family dinner.”
It hasn’t even been twenty minutes, standing in Taeil and Johnny’s living room, but it feels like Donghyuck has dramatically overstayed his welcome. His throat is closing up. He closes his eyes and grimaces. “Family dinner.” Donghyuck smiles at Taeil and nods at Johnny and says, “Sorry.”
No one says anything as he edges out of the room, slips on his shoes, and walks out the door.
“Did something happen?” Jaemin asks, when Donghyuck gets to his house and starts dropping the groceries on the counter unceremoniously. Jaemin immediately starts rifling through to find the charcoal, handing Donghyuck the things that need to go into the fridge as he finds them.
Donghyuck slaps the bag of bean sprouts by the stove. His mouth still feels bruised. “No.”
Jaemin makes a soft, absent sound. “Okay.”
Ten minutes later, as Donghyuck is plating all of the vegetables and Jaemin is trimming the meat, Donghyuck says a quiet, “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Tell them what?” Jaemin asks with a laugh. “That you’re moody? Big shock there.”
Donghyuck doesn’t know how to say thank you so he throws a stalk of asparagus at Jaemin’s head and helps him light the grill.