Chapter Text
Han Joonhwi had one mission.
In the time of year when everything and everyone wanted a piece of him in some tinsel-throwing, gift-wrapping, people-gathering errand, he was focused on a singular assignment. Not difficult for a brain like his. He could breeze through slabs of law readings and recite the Constitution while solving an on-campus murder and toppling a rotten politician mastermind. He could focus and he could multitask.
But in the past two years, his world has been revolving around one thing—one person, his person. And it was about time she knew it.
“Hyung.”
“Jiho.”
Joonhwi didn’t lift his eyes from his book, sufficient as it was to answer with his roommate’s name. Seo Jiho—his old rival (if only from Jiho’s end), now friend and dongsaeng, one of the holiday devils who wanted something from him.
“The soju,” Jiho said, spinning his chair around to face Joonhwi.
They were in their dorm room, studying for an exam. The last round of cerebral torture before Hankuk Law School released them for the holiday break.
Joonhwi let a moment’s hum of heated air pass before responding, just to annoy his roommate.
“Yes to soju. That’s not a question.”
“It’s a reminder. No, a demand. Or you risk the wrath of Kang Sol for forgetting to bring the alcohol to her Christmas party. Not the best present you could ask for.”
Joonhwi flipped through a page, in that quick second deciding not to call out how Jiho said the name Kang Sol without the B. He didn’t need the qualifier. Whenever Jiho said Kang Sol, the entire study group knew who he meant.
Much like Joonhwi, there was only one Kang Sol for him.
The corner of his mouth quirked, his eyes scanning words on the page as fast as his brain was taking them in.
“I’m not one to expect presents,” Joonhwi said dryly.
Jiho gave a huff and a puff, as Joonhwi knew he would. Seo Jiho, their dramatic little elf.
“You’ve made being alone and self-sufficient a personality trait, yes, yes,” Jiho deadpanned. “I’d make the effort to spare you a tear if you haven’t been so annoyingly happy for months now. If I walk into you and Sol noona making out one more time, I’m going to claw my eyes out.”
“Learn to knock, then.”
“I do.”
“Knock louder.”
“Hyung.”
There were many ways to respond to this. Joonhwi could laugh, because teasing Jiho was a source of infinite joy. He could be silent and let happiness wash over him, because as Jiho had accused, he was happy. Had been happy for a while now.
He had friends, friends who were family. Friends who badgered him about Christmas plans and made sure he showed up, that he belonged.
Never in his wildest dreams could Joonhwi have conjured this reality—friends in law school, Kang Sol B throwing a party, and Kang Sol A, his Sol in his life.
He couldn’t imagine living without any of it now. He was in no way going to let any of this, the most important thing least of all, slip away.
Joonhwi swung his arm around the back of his study chair, facing off with Jiho’s signature scowl. His grin grew at the endearing sight.
“One, I didn’t forget the soju. Two, we’ll be in 3L and graduating soon and I know you’re going to miss me. Three, it’s not like Sol and I don’t catch you and Sol B. We just don’t complain about it.”
He watched Jiho’s eyes round as his mouth sputtered air and indecipherable words.
Sol was right. It was a scene for the books—Jiho reacting to that little nugget of truth he and Sol have accidentally discovered. She wasn’t going to be pleased Joonhwi had dropped the secret without her. He was going to have to deal with it, but beyond that, and most critical of all, was his mission.
***
It started early in their 2L year.
Joonhwi and Sol had been alone in the copy room, nothing new there. Often they were the first ones to arrive, the last to leave. Joonhwi didn’t need to stay, didn’t need as many hours to study, but Sol did. And where Sol was, Joonhwi would be too.
He could have blamed the night, the silence and sense of secrecy gifted by the cloak of darkness outside. He could’ve blamed how they’d been tired, exhausted, the lull of sleep intoxicating, the pull towards her ever stronger the more he’d felt vulnerable.
Or it could’ve been as simple as how he’d long been gone for her, hopelessly and irrevocably gone, that it was only a matter of time, and not much of it.
Their eyes had lifted from their books and met. Sol had looked tired but alert. She’d smiled, her gaze falling to his lips. His heart had pounded, blood rushing to his brain like rapids, as he saw her lick her lips, saw her gaze linger on his trembling mouth. His fingers on the table had brushed hers, an infinitesimal buzz that was electric. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin.
Her eyes had locked with his and he’d wanted her, loved her so badly. He’d uttered her name and as that raspy sound had fled from his throat he’d come closer, so much closer than he’d ever dared.
In his next broken breath, Sol had closed the gap and crashed her mouth against his.
He’d wanted to tell her everything that night. How he adored her, how she was the sun, everything to him. But after minutes and moments of gasping, kissing, touching and coming, she’d parted from him, and her version of The Talk had gone differently.
“You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you, Joonhwi.”
And he’d promised she would never. That he would be what she needed, and that they would be, first and foremost, friends.
It had been months. Of clandestine kisses in the copy room, slow nights in his apartment, fingers tangling under tables and behind spines of books.
And nothing more. No further lines crossed other than the physical privilege to be near her.
They were friends, of course.
Friends with benefits. Sure, and gladly.
Jiho had not miscalculated at all. Joonhwi had been happy, so much more than he’d ever thought he’d be allowed to feel. Joonhwi also knew that though his happiness was real, it wasn’t complete, in the way things tended to be limited and hindered when one wasn’t honest. And he’d been dishonest and afraid.
“This is all you want, right?” Sol had asked him once, as she shared his bed. “Whatever this is, as long as we stay friends.”
“Whatever you want, Sol,” he’d said.
He’d looked into her eyes and didn’t lie, but he did not speak his truth either.
But it was Christmas. And at Christmas, one took chances.
Or so their friend Min Bokgi once said, concluded after a string of holiday romcoms they’d watched on a rare day of post-exam relaxation sans alcohol. Joonhwi wasn’t going to be the fool that dismissed such words of wisdom, not when bravery was consistently documented as key to happy-ever-afters. Not when his own happiness with Sol was on the line.
***
“I’m dead. I’m so dead.”
Kang Sol groaned into her hands, weaving through the thick maze of lumbering post-hell week law students. Joonhwi matched her pace, ready to steer her away from a collision as needed.
“You look pretty chirpy for a dead person,” he piped up.
“Well you know me, I make the effort.”
“You are the best of us, the hardest of workers.”
Sol flashed her look that clearly said ‘shut up.’ Joonhwi grinned, sidling closer that his coat sleeves brushed against hers.
“You did great. You know that. Half the questions in that exam, we’ve covered together. The other half, you have actual experience from the legal clinic.”
He tugged at her sleeve that she stopped walking, herding her behind a post away from the crowd. His hands landed on her shoulders, head tilting down to meet her gaze.
“Fine.” Sol glared at him. “I’m pretty sure I aced that last exam.”
“That’s my girl.”
She rolled her eyes. Joonhwi smiled at the spots of pink popping on her cheeks.
“I’m just dead tired.” Sol leaned her head against the concrete with a soft thump. “Feels like I haven’t slept in days.”
“You haven’t.”
“And we still have Sol B’s party.”
“I’ve been told by a reliable source that missing that gathering means certain death. Or some comparable form of misery and eternal alienation.”
“Do tell.” Sol chuckled. “And I’ll be stupid to skip it. I still can’t believe my roomie is throwing a Christmas party. And I’m invited! What a time to be alive.”
“I want to skip it.”
A smirk laced Sol’s lips, triggered by the pout on his face, one that she knew so well.
“You just want to kiss me,” she teased, words hushed.
“I do.”
Sol’s fists thumped against his chest when he tried to draw her closer. “Hello, there are people.”
Professors and classmates and strangers—all streaming past them, none sparing them a look, and really Joonhwi didn’t care. He and Sol had agreed to keep this arrangement a secret, and it had been between only the two of them for months—save for the few times Jiho made the mistake of not knocking loud enough.
Joonhwi got to kiss her, be with her in quiet, secret spaces. It was never enough. He wanted to love her out loud.
Given, a confession in the Hankuk Law School lobby was probably not the most ideal, but Joonhwi knew how opportunity and chance went when it came to him and Sol—the more he waited for the perfect moment, the more it was never going to happen.
His thumb rose to trace the shell of her ear. Her eyes rounded.
“Han Joonhwi,” she said, notes of a warning.
“Kang Sol.”
Her eyebrows knotted. Her palm remained on his chest, pushing the gap between them. “Something on your mind? Apart from the usual genius machinations.”
“Yes.”
It’s you. It’s always been you. I want you and I love you and this is real for me. All of it. Can you accept that I love you? Can you love me too?
“Sol, I—”
“Unnie!”
Joonhwi was this close to knocking his forehead repeatedly against the solid post. That or to cursing at the friendly figures running towards them.
“Unnie! There you are.” Jeon Yeseul was stuck to Sol’s side faster than Joonhwi could step back and take calming breaths.
“Hyung, Sol B’s car is in the driveway and from the little I know of her, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like to wait.” Min Bokgi swung an arm around Joonhwi’s waist, yanking him forward, back among the crowd and pushing towards the doors.
Joonhwi swung back to catch Sol’s face. Still frowning, still looking at him like she couldn’t understand him.
“Later,” he mouthed, a promise. With his fingers digging against Bokgi’s shoulder, he plowed on.