Chapter Text
When Kang Seojoon left in the morning for an early shooting, the sun was still reluctant toward its growth.
Shyly painting outside the opened windows as he planted a kiss on his sleepy-warm boyfriend's cheek and promised to be back soon so they could enjoy the younger's day off together.
"Okay," Jiwoo murmured as he dipped his head further in the pillow, sleep tainting each word. "Today, we'll make saffron rice together."
"Oh," The firm hands on his hair were followed by a light laugh, "Special occasion today, then?"
"Hm..." He drawled idle, eyes closed. "We should cook together more; you'll still burn coffee if I let you."
That earned him a soft hiss,
"Such a mean guy..." Seojoon complained, tutting his tongue. "Well, it's a good thing I caught myself a chef, then. See you soon, cutie."
Despite the hazy thought of frowning and rebuking the man, with one last kiss, the actor was gone, curtains now carefully closed, and Han Jiwoo pushed the idea aside and in favour of enjoying a few more dreamless hours in bed.
Awakeness eventually arrives.
As he sluggishly blinks to the ceiling, the airiness of his chest doesn't disappear with the remains of sleep: today marks one year since Kang Seojoon trespassed Jiwoo's house, kissed him drunk ― now that's some irony ―, and decided to craft a home out of him.
Although the order is ― probably ― shuffled, the fact remains: one year ago, Han Jiwoo's ears were ringing over and over with an intoxicated's helpless words.
You could have avoided me.
But how could he explain, without giving out much ― more than he already had ―, that he didn't want to? That, when he watched that overly energetic, kind man leaning for a kiss, the last thing he thought about was stopping it?
He could have avoided Kang Seojoon's kiss, but he couldn't have evaded wanting it.
Which didn't do much when it came to feeling sickened for having taken advantage and, later, even unleash his frustration on the stupidly honest actor.
But that's one year in the past now, so Han Jiwoo gladly dismisses most thoughts of it. With the clock on the bedside marking 8:00 AM, he pushes himself out of ― theirs ― the inviting mattress, setting out for the day's preparations.
Now, Han Jiwoo knows couples commemorations can get somewhat too soulful ― it's not universal to be comfortable with them, let alone have the wish to celebrate it.
But it's still one year, he thinks.
They don't have to overdo it ― no flowers, diamonds or fancy candled restaurants ― but a nice, cooked together dinner, maybe a movie after, one of that silly rom-com Seojoon likes, and a kiss at the end of the night seems good.
When he walks toward the supermarket, the streets are pleasantly empty and wind-fresh, illuminated with a tender yellow.
It feels like a good start.
The first sign even such a beautiful and promising day could nevertheless go downturn came, not very curiously, with Jiwoo's own dubious choices.
Maybe he's used to ignoring Phil Hyun's calls for a reason, and neglecting that rule might be an unwise choice, friends or not.
However, when his phone ringed and Seojoon's manager name lit up, the chef opted to stop his methodic washing of the vegetables and took the call.
"Hello, may I-"
"It's not what it looks like!" Ho Min's voice startles him over the line. "I know what it looks like, but it is not! Brother would never-"
"What are you-"
Again, another sentence overruns his.
"Did Jiwoo pick up?! Let me talk to him!" A messed sound later, the number's actual owner addresses him, "It's not what it looks like!' He might be an idiot, but he's crazy about you, and he would never cheat!"
He would never what now?
"What are you two talking about?" He charges slowly, maintaining his tone compensatory steadily.
"And the photos are old!" Phil Hyun bustles out, trying to sound reassuring. He fails almost comically so, "They were practising for the role during lunch."
"Yes!" Ho Min voice stresses, and Jiwoo can almost see the frantic nod. Are they on speakerphone? His head is edging to pound, "And the rumours don't make sense: how could they be dating for six months if the movie's recording started only four months ago? They didn't even know each other!"
At last, that has Jiwoo with a vague recollection: Things usually come in duality. A stranger invades his house, so they become friends; he falls in love, his best friend sees an easy target.
It's simply how the world balances itself, he thinks. And escaping from it demands mastery or being strategically bendable. For one, he's not getting any logical responses today; unfortunately, he doesn't need them to assume what might be happening.
"Thank you for the information; I'll keep that in mind," Jiwoo responds stiffly.
It's a shame he has neither mastery nor is he strategically bendable.
"Wait, Jiwoo-"
With that, he hangs up.
A quick research on his phone, and he has it: multiple headlines naming Kang Seojoon's secret romance with the co-star of his new movie. Each text is blatantly more absurd than the other; Han Jiwoo reads all of them.
Tabloid after tabloid, paragraph after paragraph, the chef finds himself entranced with the words of foreign people about the actor Kang Seojoon. Not his boyfriend but a frivolous personality, bouncing from a relationship to another over months, years.
It takes Jiwoo thumping with the news of a bar fight involving Seojoon and another actor for him to notice he's gone too far back on the research.
He puts his phone promptly down, like a shock running through his spine, turning back to the sink and the vegetables waiting aside; Jiwoo can feel the heat on his cheeks, the embarrassment of looking for things he knew not to be true.
Then, his phone chimes again. This time with the short sequence of vibration that comes with text messages. Jiwoo knows whose it's from,
[Kang Seojoon]: Jiwoo-ah, I swear it's not what it looks like.'
He looks at the line for a beat, then two. Reality abruptly weighed down once more.
Oh god, that's becoming simply ridiculous; since when is he the type to get worried over gossips concerning a famous person?
[Han Jiwoo]: I'm feeding rocks to the next person to tell me this phrase.
[Kang Seojoon]: Next person?
[Han Jiwoo]: You're late. Phil Hyun and Ho Min talked with me already.
[Kang Seojoon]: ...I'm really sorry.
Rolling his eyes, Jiwoo opts to leave it unanswered and go back to what he was doing before, but he gets cut midway with yet another beep,
[Kang Seojoon]: And I won't be able to come home early... I'm so sorry, Jiwoo-ah.
Okay, now that's-
[Kang Seojoon]: But I'll have two days free next week! We can spend the whole day together.
Isn't something off there?
Han Jiwoo is almost sure there's a missing in those messages; he blinks slowly at the screen.
Surely, Seojoon didn't forget their anniversary?
[Han Jiwoo]: I'll make the saffron rice, then. Eat when you get back.
Could he?
[Kang Seojoon]: And we were going to cook today :((( Again, I'm sorry.
[Han Jiwoo]: It's okay.
[Kang Seojoon]: It's noot! I promise next week we'll cook together. I have to go now.
He did.
And now Jiwoo has a two-people meal to prepare alone. This time, nothing halts his activities.
Maybe he is the type of person to dislike those things; he muses as he dries his hands in the cloth hanging over his shoulder.
The dish takes two chopped onions, so Jiwoo sets to prepare it. The methodic sound of knife to wood fills the air. It could also be both; who knows.
First onion cubed, he reaches the other mindlessly, intently slicing it. The sharp edge sinks into his finger, making his hand retreat abruptly. When Jiwoo levels his index to his eyes, it's a shallow slice, blood almost shy to its fall. If he's honest, the sight's nearly insulting.
At instinct, he brings the cut to his lips.
Unluckily, shutting out thoughts isn't as easy as ending calls. Sighing resigned, Jiwoo accepts the wave he failed to push away.
There's no point in denying he is upset Kang Seojoon actually forgot their anniversary.
Even if he didn't like celebrating dates ― which wouldn't exactly add to his character, but people can own dualities as well ― he'd have brought the subject at some point.
Huffing in surrender, Jiwoo takes care of his hand and goes to finish what he started. Hopefully, without interferences this time.
The hours come and go, and the night falls inadvertently. Han Jiwoo chews his meal patiently and alone.
When he finishes eating, it's time to arrange a plate for Seojoon and set for a shower, hopefully following a regenerating sleep. There's an insistent swollen feeling in his throat that Jiwoo wishes to get rid of before facing his boyfriend once more.
And, as a small mercy, it looks like he'll be able to have it.
He isn't.
Han Jiwoo has just placed his head down on his pillow, breath on the verge of steadying when he hears the front door's creaking sound. Seojoon's home.
He hears as the man moves around silently the kitchen, the clicking sounds of the dishes, then over the shower in a habit he's taken since he and Jiwoo started dating.
During all the time, Jiwoo's unavoidably uneasy. Repeatedly, he wills sleep to his body. When Seojoon finally gets to the dorm, it's another wish he won't see granted.
"I know you're awake, Jiwoo-ah," Seojoon whispers, tentatively climbing on the bed. "Please don't be mad; there's really nothing between that woman and me."
Over the best part of the day, Han Jiwoo managed to calm himself down. He truly did. But still,
That's not what's troubling me, airhead. Han Jiwoo thinks savagely, subconsciously running his thumb over his band-aided finger. The sour taste keeps lingering over his mouth.
Then, there's Seojoon, who's apparently making his absolute best to curl around his back without him noticing; damp skin radiating chill air and a well-known, smooth scent.
Like always, Han Jiwoo notices bitter still. It's always him clamming himself and leaving Seojoon to approach again, softly, humble. Like he's the one who did something wrong. Just like one year ago.
Good god, once again, the situation is getting ridiculous.
"I know." He reassures his partner. Kang Seojoon is always the one reaching out. "You still smell the same." He admits, waving any harshness away.
Have you really forgotten what day it is?
He looks back at Seojoon; sorry, owlish eyes, outlined with faint purple lines, greet him.
Either way, there's the crashing of it all: Han Jiwoo knows that if he were to talk now, the man would listen. They would speak, and he'd get understood.
Sighing lightly, he opts instead to unfold himself and make space for the persistent man beside him, who promptly settles to lay down on his chest and give out his own note of appreciation.
Jiwoo has been with the man long enough to know when a day is drainful.
Is it actually necessary? He would gain nothing by distressing his boyfriend even more than his day already had. They have been together for months, days, uncountable hours; Han Jiwoo doesn't need more.
Having Kang Seojoon has felt like wandering between galaxies; any more, and he'll be taking further than what's given.
"But you're upset." Seojoon murmurs.
Any more, and it'll be greed.
"I'm not anymore." He says honestly, "The whole situation bothered me for a bit, but it's good now. We're still together; that's what matters to me."
Once Seojoon hangs himself completely over Jiwoo ― like a persistent, comforting blanket ―, firmly, caring, the cooker finds wronger still to be unsettled.
He whirls his arms around Seojoon and hopes it conveys everything he can't say, how he's the sorry one now.
A groan,
"I feel like an utmost jerk right now. And I even lost a whole day with you."
He ponders on commanding the actor to be less of a fool.
"You can make it up next week. How about we play basket in the park? Or maybe invite Phil Hyun and Ho Min over? They did sound pretty distressed on the phone."
But he is no better.
Han Jiwoo recognizes but doesn't understand the suspiciousness forming in the actor's eyes. However, when a pout covers it with an,
"Wait. What do you mean by 'still together'? Han Jiwoo, You'd better not be planning on fleeing away from me. Don't you know I maintain contact with one of Korea's scariest journalists? She'd track you down in a beat." He decides there's been enough hanging over thoughts for the day.
Instead, he doesn't help the light laugh that flies between his lips before retorting in an easy banter,
"Yeah? I could easily bribe her with good food and a few drinks. And then what?"
Seojoon makes a thoughtful sound and retorts,
"I'd bribe her back with money and a few drinks, perhaps a new camera? And then she'd tell where were you at." Placing his head comfortably over Jiwoo's chest, he sighs relaxedly. "And I'd go after you to say I'm sorry."
For their current position and relationship, frowning isn't as effective as it tends to be to others ― as it used to be with him. Han Jiwoo does it anyway.
"What do you mean by that? You didn't even do anything to be going around apologizing, don't do it. Where's your pride?"
He receives a sleepy hum in response,
"My baby is very bright and cute." He mumbles, faint words dragging on the edges. "If he's upset, he definitely has a reason. If he's unsettled enough to leave, I certainly don't have ground to pride."
In a beat, varied thoughts leap behind his eyes:
I already told you not to call me baby.
Who is cute, you overbearing pretty boy?
Would you still think like this if you knew I got sad over a foolish date and a cut finger?
What's with this talking of leaving anyway? I don't want to.
If you knew, would you want to?
Suddenly, it feels as if the day has been too long, and Jiwoo is tired.
"Don't." He hears himself declaring resolutely, because holding grudges against this man is more difficult than it should, "Don't go around swallowing your pride for nothing, you house-thief. It's counterproductive."
"Kondae-ah, still so grumpy." Seojoon drawls, now relaxed. His words more spaced with every sentence, "But it's okay; you already lost to me. Han Jiwoo, we got close."
Even he can't argue with some arguments.
It's still a shame you don't remember the day I completely lost to you, though.
But, as he feels a sweet last closing of arms around him, as the man in his arms evens his breath and falls asleep ― Han Jiwoo finds it harder and harder to care about those things. Until he doesn't.
The room is filled with nothing but silence for a beat until,
"Happy anniversary to you too, you big goof." A guileless bite.
With a soft smile, he reaches to turn the bed lamp off before surrendering himself to the tiredness of the day and intimacy's comfortable warmth.