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Soft music flows throughout the theatre, the piano notes filling every space. Wonwoo’s eyes are closed as his fingers dance across the keys, his body moving wherever he needs it to be for him to hit the right notes. He pays attention to every detail, mentally jots down how it sounds to his ears and in the way they bounce off of the walls and back to him. They sound good, but there’s just a slight something that seems to be missing from the piece entirely. Stopping in the middle, though, would mean not finishing and adjusting things before knowing if he’d do well on the rest of the piece entirely. He continues playing until the last notes are ringing through the air, fading out into nothing.
Wonwoo releases the keys with a silent sigh, opening his eyes to stare at the sheet music in front of him. He knows the notes like the back of his hand, so he doesn’t necessarily need the sheet music here, but he likes to keep it in front of him, just in case. You’ll never know when you accidentally forget a note, or realize that a key needs to be adjusted when practicing. He doesn’t think any of the keys need to be adjusted for this particular piece, but there’s something missing. Maybe it’s just for the fact that he’s practicing this alone, and not with anyone else from the orchestra. Having some of the strings or the brass section play alongside him usually helps him in knowing just how the piece will sound amongst the rest of the instruments.
His usual practice partner, Seokmin, wasn’t available for practice today—he had an appointment to go to, which Wonwoo understands. With their constantly filled schedules, it’s harder for them to find the time to do simple things like doctors and dentists appointments. Even Wonwoo struggles to schedule his things accordingly, and his friends tend to tell him that he works a little too hard for what he does.
Being part of an orchestra is more taxing than people would believe. It’s been Wonwoo’s dream career since he was little, from the very first time he was able to set his hands on a piano and actually play, but it’s something that he wouldn’t trade for the world. He loves what he does, and it’s worth the sacrifice of not having a lot of time to do many other things. His friends may hate that factor of his job the most, but they’re very supportive of him, no matter what. Despite their own busy schedules, they always try their best to come to Wonwoo’s shows if they’re able to. He always feels a rush of emotions when a show is finished, and he looks out into the crowd to see several of his friends’ faces smiling, pride in their eyes.
He’s brought out of his reprieve by his phone ringing, the tone of the song much louder as it rings throughout the entire theatre. Wonwoo reaches down and pulls his phone out, glancing at the caller ID before pressing the answer button.
“Hello?” He mumbles into the speaker, reaching up under his glasses to rub at his eye.
“Wonwoo-yah, are you still practicing at the theatre?” Jihoon’s voice is crystal clear on the line. It makes Wonwoo cringe a little, because he knows just how Jihoon can be when he practices too much.
“I just finished,” he murmurs. It’s only a half-lie, so hopefully Jihoon doesn’t notice that in his voice.
“I’m sure,” Jihoon’s tone is flat. He can always see right through Wonwoo. It’s kind of a super power he has.
Wonwoo rubs at his eye again, before leaning back a bit on the piano bench, sighing quietly. “What’s up, though? Something wrong?”
“No, not really. Soonyoung-ah got invited to a dance event that’s in a month, and they told him that he could bring as many people as he wanted. He’s going to perform there with his group, and he wanted me to invite you to it.”
“Why didn’t he call me himself?”
“He hasn’t gotten off the phone with Seungcheol-hyung in about two hours. I feel bad for him, but not enough to make Soonyoung get off the line.”
Wonwoo snorts quietly to himself, shaking his head a bit. He smiles slightly, weighing the options over in his head. “When is it next month?”
“It’s the 27th,” Jihoon replies, sniffling slightly. “And I already know you don’t have any shows that weekend, so you’re coming. Soonyoung says everyone he invites gets a plus one, too, so. If you have someone in mind, feel free.”
Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo lets out a small huff of laughter. He runs his hand through his hair, nodding along to Jihoon’s words. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go. Make sure to tell Soonyoung I’ll be there. Just give me all the details for it and I’ll tell my practice partners I won’t be available.”
“I’m glad you’re coming, Wonwoo-yah.” Wonwoo can hear the relief in Jihoon’s voice, and it makes him feel a bit guilty. “Soonyoung-ah will be elated.”
Wonwoo smiles to himself at that. They chat a little longer as Wonwoo finally pulls himself away from the piano, closing the keys off and locking it shut. He gathers his sheet music and places them back into the folder they belong to, before putting that folder away in his bag. They say their goodbyes as Wonwoo heads to the exit of the theatre, shutting off the lights and pulling out his keys in order to lock the entire place up correctly.
After hanging up, Wonwoo stares down at his phone and breathes out slowly through his nose. Soonyoung gets offered to go to a lot of events, being a rather infamous dance within a very popular dance crew. They all get invitations to go, and they often are allowed to invite the rest of their friends along, as well. They’re usually pretty fun, but sometimes they can be a bit stuffy. Wonwoo knows all about fancy events and galas, having also been invited to a lot—though not as a guest. He usually ends up there as part of the music that’s been hired for atmosphere, more than anything else. So sometimes it is a nice change of pace to be an actual attendee, rather than just play piano in the corner all night long.
He shakes his head a little as he pockets his phone, tugs his jacket around himself more, and heads off to the bus stop to head back home.
“Seokmin-ah,” Wonwoo approaches the violinist after their practice session is over. Seokmin looks up from where he’s putting his violin back into his case, blinking his eyes rather owlishly. “Are you free next month? On the 27th?”
Seokmin tilts his head, just as his hand is slowly lowering the instrument into the velvet case. He takes his time in gently placing the bow in the spot beside the violin, and shutting the lid closed, before he looks up at Wonwoo with vague confusion written on his face. “I think so. We don’t have any performances around that time, right? Then, yeah, I think I’m free. It was probably just going to be one of my read-books-in-bed-all-day kind of days.”
The corner of Wonwoo’s lips twitch up at that. It’s a very Seokmin-like thing for him to do on his days off. Awkwardly, Wonwoo reaches up and rubs at the side of his neck, shifting his weight on his feet from side to side a bit. “My friends invited me to go to a dance event that day, and… uh, well, I was wondering if… maybe you’d want to… go with me?”
Seokmin’s eyes light up at that. “A dance event? Like black suit, tie, and dress kind of dance event?”
Wonwoo shakes his head a bit quickly. “Not really that fancy, no—it’s mostly to just celebrate a couple of dance groups and have them perform. One of my best friend’s is part of a really popular group that got invited, and he invited me, and he said that I could have a ‘plus one’ with me, so—” He cringes slightly at his own words, his eyes flicking around to look at anything but Seokmin head-on. “Uh. I thought it would be nice. Since you always practice with me, even though you don’t have to.”
Seokmin laughs brightly, throwing his head back. Wonwoo looks up at him, nose scrunched in confusion, but it mellows out the moment Seokmin grins towards him, eyes crinkled. “I practice with you because I want to. Not because I think I have to, Wonwoo-hyung. Trust me on that, okay?” Wonwoo’s heart sort of stutters in his chest at Seokmin’s words, and he tries to not hang onto them too much. “But, really? You want me to go along with you to that kind of event?”
Nodding, Wonwoo shuffles his feet again, glancing down towards the floor. “I mean—yeah? I wouldn’t mind if my friends met you. I’m actually more worried about you meeting them because they’re notorious for being a little much. They mean well, but they’re… rowdy.”
“They probably can’t be worse than me and my own best friend,” Seokmin’s eyes twinkle when he says that, and Wonwoo wonders if he and Soonyoung would get on like a house fire. “I’d love to go, though! Is there some kind of dress code? I might have to do black suit and tie, anyways, those are pretty much my only fancy clothes…”
“I promise you, Seokmin-ah, it’s not that fancy.”
Seokmin smiles brightly, seeming to nod to himself. “Come on, hyung. We should pack up and go to dinner now.”
And they do just that. Seokmin finishes packing his violin away while Wonwoo carefully closes the piano back up. It’s quiet between them, but the silence is comfortable. Anything like this with Seokmin is comfortable for Wonwoo, because as outgoing and friendly as Seokmin is, he doesn’t force Wonwoo to come out of his shell any more than necessary. He lets Wonwoo stay in his shell until he wants to come out, never prodding, but always gently coaxing Wonwoo into getting out of his comfort levels just a tiny bit at a time.
Even with his friends, like Soonyoung and Mingyu, Wonwoo is never one to put himself out there too much. Oftentimes his friends have to force him to do something outside of the box for himself. Not to the extent that Wonwoo would come to hate them for making him do something. He’s never done anything so terribly out of his comfort zone that he’s ended up having an awful time or anything to that degree. Wonwoo is just very much someone who prefers staying in place, letting the world move around him, and catching up when he can. He doesn’t like to move against or with the flow—he likes to go at his own steady pace, letting life work its way one day at a time.
Seokmin makes it so much easier, though. He had actually been the one to reach out to Wonwoo first about practicing pieces together when the full orchestra couldn’t meet up, or when other group members were unavailable. Wonwoo hadn’t been too keen on the idea, at first—he’s not some brooding type of person that hates interaction with others, but he’s not exactly the most amicable person, if only because people can’t seem to get past his “resting bitch face syndrome” (as so lovingly called by Soonyoung and Mingyu).
Now, Wonwoo can’t imagine having turned Seokmin down. He’s so thankful that Seokmin had decided to reach out to him for practice, and that they’ve gotten to know each other so much over the past few years. Wonwoo wouldn’t label the two of them as “best friends” or anything of the sorts, but he likes to think that they are friends. They’re close enough to not be called acquaintances or just coworkers, but they’re not really close enough that Wonwoo can just randomly call him up and ask if he wants to hang out. Though, honestly, he thinks they could actually breach that point if either of them were to take the leap and just… do it. Wonwoo has never said no to doing anything with Seokmin before, and he would never turn down any opportunity to hang out with him outside of the theatre and their job.
Seokmin is also the one part of his job life that Wonwoo keeps private. His friends know that he has an avid practice partner, but none of them have met him. They’ve seen him play in the orchestra plenty of times, unknowingly, so he’s sure that when they meet, they’ll undoubtedly recognize Seokmin as someone Wonwoo works with. He’s not ashamed of Seokmin by any means—if anyone were to be ashamed of him, Wonwoo thinks he would have to have a very long and vulgar conversation with that person. He’s just happy to have something private and to himself—this little bubble that he and Seokmin have is all theirs, with no real interruptions. All bubbles must be popped at some point, though, he supposes, so he might as well pop the bubble himself.
It’s a little strange, doing this. Wonwoo has been invited to plenty of events by Soonyoung, even given the opportunity to bring plus ones if they were applicable at the time, but he’s never brought anyone along. Mostly because he’s never had any interest in someone, and all of his plus ones would have just been their mutual friends—so it’s just something he’s never done before, despite having been allowed to. Yet another thing that Seokmin has made Wonwoo feel comfortable enough in doing, bringing him along to officially meet his friends. They’ll get along, he thinks—everyone seems to love Seokmin and being around him, and Wonwoo doesn’t blame them one bit. It’s impossible to not like Seokmin, no matter how hard you try.
Which is why this is also a bit of a stupid idea on Wonwoo’s part. Ever since they began being practice partners, slowly but surely, over the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s found himself gaining feelings for his fellow musician. He had struggled with it a lot, at first, honestly—so much so that he had gone and done something he wasn’t exactly proud of doing, which had been avoiding Seokmin like the plague for about a month. It wasn’t until Jihoon sat him down and forced him to have A Talk™ did Wonwoo come to realize the fact that he, indeed, was falling in love with Lee Seokmin.
It’s been about two years since Wonwoo and Jihoon have had that talk. And not once has Wonwoo ever gotten any closer to voicing his feelings for Seokmin.
That night, as he’s lying in bed attempting to sleep, Wonwoo comes to realize just how bad of a decision this may end up being for him.
A month rolls by within the blink of an eye, especially for someone who works as much as Wonwoo. He sees Seokmin nearly every day—not always for one-on-one practice though, they’ve had a lot of group rehearsals to prepare for next month’s performances, and so he usually only sees him through the crowd of other musicians and not so much personally during those days. He doesn’t mind it, used to it after having worked here for so long. The day of the dance gala is just a day away, and Wonwoo now has Seokmin in his house.
Because Seokmin had decided, on his own, that staying the night at Wonwoo’s house would make things easier on their venture to the gala together.
He’s not particularly wrong, of course, but the whole ordeal isn’t necessarily great for Wonwoo’s heart. He does his best not to dwell on that while Seokmin is in his house, lest he make this entire situation extremely awkward for the both of them in the end.
Having Seokmin in his house is strange—it’s like Wonwoo is suddenly hyper aware of absolutely everything he does, down to the littlest details. He tries to not clean as much as he usually does, worried that it might come off as him being rude and saying Seokmin is dirty or ruining his space—he most certainly isn’t, but Wonwoo’s overactive mind likes to tell him things that aren’t true in the slightest. He’s trying his hardest to not appear awkward, even in his own home, despite the fact that he feels so comfortable around Seokmin in the first place. It’s just that it’s Seokmin, and Wonwoo isn’t very prone to bringing people over to his house very often. Even Jihoon and Soonyoung haven’t been over in probably months, though not for a lack of trying on Soonyoung’s part.
Falling asleep that night proves to be harder than Wonwoo had expected it to be. He doesn’t manage to sleep until about 4AM, and he’s glad that the gala isn’t until much later in the evening, so he can sleep in a little later than he’d originally wanted.
By the time Wonwoo wakes up, it’s nearly noon. He slowly gets up, groggy, before his brain starts up and he’s reminded of the fact that Seokmin is still here. He nearly jolts out of his bed, feeling anxiety and a bit of panic rising up inside of his chest, but manages to climb out rather calmly, and head to the guest room across the hall. As it turns out, Seokmin is also still asleep. He’s got one arm hung over the side of the bed, wrist angled rather badly, his face pressed into the pillow and mouth wide open, snoring quietly.
It makes Wonwoo smile, small and careful. He tip toes his way into the room and to the side of the bed, taking Seokmin’s arm and moving it gently back onto the bed, smoothing the angle of his wrist out so he doesn’t accidentally hurt it. (After all, playing the violin with an aching wrist is no good—neither is playing the piano.)
Seokmin wakes up about an hour later, when it’s nearing one in the afternoon. They’ve got five hours until the gala starts, Wonwoo reminds him when Seokmin asks, and the two of them get ready together. It’s shocking how easy it is to get ready with Seokmin in the house, the feeling of it being the complete opposite of the awkward mess that Wonwoo had been last night. Seokmin asks for Wonwoo’s help on occasion, asking if things look alright, and Wonwoo is only so capable of telling him he looks fine, without pouring out how he thinks Seokmin could be wearing a trash bag, and Wonwoo would still think that he’s the most handsome person in the world.
Soonyoung texts Wonwoo throughout the entire process of getting ready, and while it’s endearing, it’s also a little annoying. Wonwoo responds with reactions to the messages, or sending a couple of emojis—usually just a thumbs up for the face rolling its eyes. It takes Wonwoo replying with an actual message if “on the way” for Soonyoung to finally give him a bit of leeway. It takes about an hour or so to get to the gala’s venue, so Wonwoo and Seokmin leave once they’re finished getting ready, and Wonwoo feels the anxiety starting to eat him up inside again.
The car ride is quiet, but occasionally Seokmin will talk about something—any kind of random topic that comes to his mind, and Wonwoo listens earnestly, though his eyes remain glued to the road in front of him. Despite the fact that Wonwoo doesn’t talk as much, it doesn’t really detour Seokmin from quieting himself—and for that, Wonwoo is thankful. He likes when Seokmin talks, could probably listen to him endlessly for hours, and part of him really wishes that he could. Maybe someday.
When they’ve arrived at the gala’s venue, Wonwoo can only describe his emotions as a hurricane. His stomach won’t stop turning, flipping constantly, and he feels extremely light-headed. Seokmin talking so much had distracted Wonoo from the very truth of this entire situation: he is bringing a plus one to a rather prominent event, when he has absolutely never done such a thing in the past several years that his friends have known him. Wonwoo does not know how his friends will react to this, and there’s the bigger part of him that feels genuinely scared and worried about it. It’s not that his friends will hate Seokmin—on the contrary, Wonwoo thinks his friends may end up liking Seokmin more than they like him, and he wouldn’t blame them one bit—but it’s the fact that this is him, doing something so outside of the box of his comfort zone, that has him chewing at the inside of his lip, thinking about what everyone else will say, or do.
Seokmin must notice his much more nervous and anxious demeanor, because Wonwoo feels a hand slipping under his, carefully prying it open—he hadn’t realized that he’d been gripping it into a fist—as Seokmin’s fingers lace together with them. Wonwoo looks up towards him, hoping that his face isn’t as much of an open book as he feels like right now, and Seokmin—Seokmin just smiles at him, so caring and gentle and adoring. Wonwoo swears his heart must skip a beat, because he doesn’t have any other explanation for the light-headedness that he feels at that very moment.
“Come on, we should go in before your friend starts blowing up your phone again, yeah?” Seokmin’s smile turns into a grin, eyes disappearing as they crinkle around the edges, and Wonwoo can only nod. He definitely does not need Soonyoung blowing up his phone right now.
The gala itself isn’t super huge—the venue itself is bigger than the amount of people that are there, but it’s only for the fact that they needed a large space for the dancers to do their performances, and for some of the musicians to be able to have an area to play, as well. Wonwoo’s used to being in such wide and open spaces, but Seokmin seems to be in utter awe from the moment they step inside.
“Whoa,” Seokmin sounds a little breathless, fingers squeezing at Wonwoo’s, and Wonwoo is now hyper aware of the fact that they have not stopped holding hands since they left the parking lot. “This place is fancy. I feel underdressed, somehow, even though this is probably the fanciest I’ve ever dressed up—including for any of our performances!”
Wonwoo manages a small smile, chuckling silently under his breath. He looks out at the sea of people and squints a little, attempting to find Jihoon, Mingyu, or Junhui through the crowd of people—he’s successful, spotting the way Mingyu’s red hair sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the variety of browns, blacks, and blondes. He tugs slightly at Seokmin’s hand, then nods his head in the direction of Mingyu, stating, “My friends are this way.”
Wonwoo cannot stop the intense beating of his heart. It seems to get louder and faster in his ears the closer they get to his group of friends. He sees Mingyu notice him first, the guy’s face lighting up brightly, before he sees Mingyu’s eyes slide to his right—and therefore noticing Seokmin next to him. Mingyu’s eyes go wide, his mouth dropping open in, presumably, a gasp, before he’s whipping around and leaning down to the person next to him—it’s Junhui, Mingyu’s own boyfriend—and says something to him.
It’s like a game of Whack-A-Mole, only Wonwoo has no mallet to knock their heads back down. Junhui’s head pops up first, eyes trained right onto Wonwoo and Seokmin, and then Minghao’s pops up next. Around the table, everyone’s heads come up, one by one, until the last people staring at the pair of them is Jihoon and Soonyoung. And Soonyoung looks, somehow, both extremely elated and devastatingly upset at the sight of Wonwoo with someone. (Probably for the fact that Wonwoo hadn’t told anyone that he was coming with someone.)
“Wonwoo-yah,” Jihoon is the one who speaks to him first when they approach the edge of the table, and Wonwoo isn’t quite sure what to make of the tone of his voice. There’s a lot of things underlying in it, and at this very moment, Wonwoo does not feel capable of figuring it all out.
“Um,” Wonwoo begins, eloquent as always when it comes to these scenarios. “Hey guys. This…” He chances a glance to Seokmin, who’s smiling towards everyone at the table, albeit somewhat stiffly. “This is Seokmin. He’s, uh…”
As Wonwoo is trying to come up with the right wording, the right phrasing that won’t turn this into something else, Soonyoung speaks up for him, his voice at least several octaves higher than it already usually is. “Wonu’s got a boyfriend!?”
Hearing Soonyoung practically yell the word “boyfriend” makes Wonwoo’s brain short circuit. He grips onto Seokmin’s hand hard, probably crushing the man’s fingers in his own, but Seokmin doesn’t react to it. Instead, Seokmin turns his attention to Soonyoung, now practically beaming in his direction.
“Yes!” Seokmin says, and Wonwoo feels like his brain might be leaking through his ears right now, because surely Seokmin hadn’t just agreed to the fact that he is Wonwoo’s boyfriend.
Because they aren’t. Boyfriends, that is.
They aren’t dating in the slightest sense of the word.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” Seokmin bows himself to the table, as Wonwoo feels Jihoon’s eyes boring into the side of his head. He tries to not even glance in the man’s direction, keeping his own gaze fixated on Seokmin and his wonderful display of acting. “I’m Lee Seokmin, and yes, I’m Wonwoo-hyung’s boyfriend.”
“Huh,” Jihoon murmurs the word, but Wonwoo catches it. He finally glances towards his best friend, and sees the way Jihoon’s face is calculating and somewhat scrutinizing. Because Jihoon knows how Wonwoo has felt for Seokmin for the past several years. Wonwoo hopes silently to the gods that he doesn’t say anything about that.
“I can’t believe it!” Mingyu is grinning when he comes up to Seokmin’s other side, arms stretched out a little in front of him. He leans onto the edge of the table on his palms, looking Seokmin up and down momentarily. “I didn’t even know Wonwoo-hyung was interested in anyone. Who knew, huh?”
Soonyoung joins Mingyu, standing up from his seat and moving around the table until he can stand in front of Seokmin directly. Wonwoo is slightly terrified of this, watching his friend with wide eyes, before Soonyoung merely grins, throwing his arms around Seokmin in a hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you!” Soonyoung says, squeezing Seokmin in his grip. Seokmin’s hand slips away from Wonwoo’s as he returns the motion, arms loosely going around Soonyoung in a hug. “Your relationship must be pretty new, Wonu’s not said a thing about dating anyone since the last time we talked.” Soonyoung pouts at Wonwoo when he pulls away from the hug, and Wonwoo feels his heart squeezing up in a bit of guilt.
“It’s only been a few months,” Seokmin says, apparently planning the story out for both of them. Wonwoo is very grateful for that, because lying isn’t necessarily his strong suit—not when it comes to his friends. Seokmin turns to him and smiles, expression calm and gentle, and it helps Wonwoo in relaxing his own self for this entire situation. “He asked me out about, what, three months ago? Right, hyung?”
“Right,” Wonwoo nods as shifts himself closer to Seokmin’s side, lifting his arm and wrapping it around his (now) fake boyfriend’s waist. His eyes dart around everyone’s faces quickly, before he leans down and presses a kiss to Seokmin’s cheek, precariously close to the corner of his lips. It’s quick and simple, something just short of a peck, and it’s over the second it begins. Wonwoo isn’t one for public displays of affection, not really, but now he really has to play the part of a boyfriend.
“Congratulations then, Wonwoo,” Junhui’s words are like a breath of fresh air. Wonwoo gives him a grateful smile, nodding, as Soonyoung grabs Seokmin’s arm and tugs him over to the table, forcing him to sit down right beside him.
Wonwoo fears for Seokmin’s safety and sanity only a little. Both he and Soonyoung are extremely friendly people, despite the fact that they’re also introverted by nature. Wonwoo is pretty sure that they both have the same MBTI type, too. He’s watching Seokmin when he feels someone watching him, and he turns to figure out who it is. He’s not shocked when he sees that it’s Jihoon, staring at him with an odd expression on his face. Wonwoo hates lying, especially to Jihoon, but there’s no other way around this situation. Maybe Jihoon believes them. Maybe he can see right through their entire act—Wonwoo doesn’t know, doesn’t really want to know, and really just wants to hold onto Seokmin’s hand again.
Wonwoo is not surprised that Soonyoung demanded the four of them go on a double date together. Wonwoo is surprised that Seokmin had agreed to it, so very easily, like he isn’t digging a deeper hole for the both of them to sink into. Especially for the fact that this double date is taking place nearly a month after the dance gala event.
He and Seokmin have been practicing as they normally do, and Wonwoo doesn’t feel any different than he had before—it’s still comfortable, working with Seokmin so closely, and there’s a part of his mind that wonders, so much, on if this feels any different to Seokmin. If he feels like there’s something more between them now, or if he feels exactly the same. It’s not that nothing has changed for Wonwoo, because a lot has changed in his heart and mind, but Wonwoo refuses to let those changes get in the way of his life, and his relationship with Seokmin.
Whatever kind of relationship that may be.
The days following the dance gala led to Seokmin and Wonwoo basically going on pseudo-dates—they practiced, they ate dinner together, and Seokmin, somehow, had ended up inside of Wonwoo’s home at the end of every night. He always went home before it got too late, but he would always linger in the doorway, hands lightly gripping at Wonwoo’s, and Wonwoo had never quite worked out just what Seokmin had been trying to do during those times.
Now, Wonwoo finds Seokmin in his home because of the double date. He looks very cute, dressed up much more casually than he usually is, even for their own practices. He’s attempting to fix his hair in his reflection of the microwave in Wonwoo’s kitchen when Wonwoo exits the hallway. It makes Wonwoo smile, especially as Seokmin catches his eye through the glass. Seokmin twirls around instantly, smiling brightly—it’s addictive, the way Seokmin smiles, and Wonwoo hopes to continue to be someone who can keep putting that kind of smile on Seokmin’s face.
“You look nice, hyung,” Seokmin says, looking him up and down.
Wonwoo feels his ears warm, clearing his throat a little before he speaks. “Thanks,” His lips twitch up a little more. “You look really good, too.”
Seokmin remains beaming, even as he walks around the kitchen island and places himself right in front of Wonwoo. “Thank you, too. Are you ready to go?”
Wonwoo nods, reaching up and adjusting the glasses on his nose. “Yeah, we should go, before Soonyoung-ah starts blowing up my phone like last time.”
Seokmin laughs, a wonderful melody to Wonwoo’s ears, and hooks his arm together with one of Wonwoo’s, officially turned towards the door of Wonwoo’s place.
They meet Jihoon and Soonyoung at the restaurant—it’s a hotpot place, making it much more casual and loose than the pressured experience of being at a gala event. Soonyoung insists on Seokmin sitting next to him, which results in Wonwoo sitting beside Jihoon once more, but he finds that to be a little more comfortable than sitting between Jihoon and Soonyoung both.
“So, Seokmin-ah,” Soonyoung is smiling brightly as he leans forward on the edge of the table, making a show of the way he leans his chin over his bent wrist, eyes sparkling. “You actually work with Wonwoo-yah?”
“Yeah,” Seokmin seems so delighted to talk about this, his face somehow becoming brighter than it usually is. “Wonwoo-hyung and I have been working at the same orchestra for a while now. I’m sure you guys have seen me whenever you come to the performances.”
Wonwoo nearly winces when Seokmin says that out loud, suddenly biting down on the inside of his cheek.
“I thought I recognized you!” Soonyoung points directly at Seokmin, eyes crinkling. “What do you play again? It’s a string, right?”
“Yup,” Seokmin pops the ‘p’ of the word, sitting up straighter and puffing out his chest a bit—he always becomes a bit prouder whenever he talks about how good of a violinist he is. “Violin, specifically. I’m one of the main first seats for that section.”
“Wow, that means you’re really good, right? Wonu seems to always be the only piano player when you guys, I sometimes wonder if you actually have any other pianists in the orchestra or not!”
“Pianists aren’t always necessary in orchestras, honestly,” Seokmin says, picking up a piece of meat and tossing it into his mouth. “It really depends on the pieces they play, and usually having more than one pianist can make it sound way too clunky and weird. It really only works when it’s a harmonizing piece, when notes need to be played a little later than when the first person starts.”
“You can’t always count on pianists having the exact same movements at the exact same time,” Wonwoo tacks on, biting down on a pepper. “We can try all we want, but there’s no guarantee that we’ll hit the same notes at the exact same time, so it won’t match up. It’s a lot different than dancers being able to be in sync.”
Soonyoung looks rather impressed with the two of them, slurping up some of the noodles into his mouth as the two of them talk. “Wow, I guess I never thought of it like that before. So I guess that’s why you’re the only pianist for your orchestra, huh?”
“Yeah,” Wonwoo shrugs one of his shoulders a bit, suddenly feeling a bit shyer at all this attention. “They like the way I play, I guess, so they’ve kept me on…”
“More than just like, hyung!” Seokmin seems offended on Wonwoo’s behalf, amusing him greatly. He can’t help the small smile that comes to his face as Seokmin scoots himself closer to his side, pointing directly up towards Wonwoo’s chin. “They love your playing! They’ve had you in the orchestra for years. If they didn’t like the way you played, they’d have let you go already. Don’t downgrade your own abilities.”
Wonwoo spares a glance towards Jihoon and Soonyoung, feeling very put on the spot. He looks back at Seokmin and nods, reaching his hand up and taking Seokmin’s curled up hand into his own. Wonwoo laces their fingers together as he presses a kiss to Seokmin’s knuckles, watching Seokmin’s face for his reactions—his ears turn pink at the gesture, and there’s another dusting of pink that starts to spread across his cheeks. Wonwoo feels a sense of triumph rising up inside of him, unable to help the way his lips quirk up into a half-smirk.
“It’s true what they say, huh,” Jihoon’s voice brings Wonwoo back down to reality, making him turn around to look at his friend. He sets his and Seokmin’s linked hands down between them now, blinking, waiting for Jihoon to continue. Jihoon wrinkles up his nose, but there’s a slight smile on his lips. “Friends always become boring when they get into relationships.”
Wonwoo laughs, fully and with most of his body, at Jihoon’s words. Jihoon seems smug with himself, even as Soonyoung reaches over and smacks the top of his shoulder.
“Hey!” Soonyoung whines, pouting even as Jihoon turns to look at him. “We are not boring. I refuse to accept that.”
“You guys are pretty boring,” Wonwoo says, grabbing a piece of beef and dropping it into his mouth. “You might get invited to a lot of important events and stuff, but I know what your home life is like. You’d absolutely rather stay at home together than actually go out and do things.”
Soonyoung clicks his tongue, pointing his chopsticks right at Wonwoo. He’s playfully upset, Wonwoo can tell, because there’s a smile on his face even now. “You’re just describing yourself too, Wonu-yah. I’m sure Seokmin-ah can attest to the accuracy of that!”
Part of Wonwoo’s brain panics instantly, worried that Seokmin will be caught off guard and not know what to throw back at Soonyoung—but he manages to surprise Wonwoo again, something that he seems to be doing a lot of these days. Seokmin is snickering beside him, making Wonwoo turn to him and frown playfully.
“Soonyoung-hyung is right, babe.” Wonwoo feels his head spin when Seokmin calls him that, suddenly breathless, feeling like his vision is fuzzy even though he’s wearing his glasses to help him see perfectly fine right now. “We do end up staying in more than we end up going out.”
“We still go out plenty,” Wonwoo tries, scrunching up his nose slightly. “After practice, we always go to dinner.”
“That doesn’t count, though,” Jihoon says, snapping his own chopsticks in Wonwoo’s direction. Wonwoo rolls his eyes, pretending to swipe Jihoon’s chopsticks away from him. Jihoon pulls them away with ease, rolling his own eyes as well. “It’s just a routine, and routines are, technically, considered boring.”
“I hate you,” Wonwoo says, plain and with no actual heat behind his words. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”
“Damn,” Jihoon sighs, almost wistfully, shaking his head a bit. “It took so little for us to break up. Here I thought we had something special, Wonwoo-yah.”
“‘Something special’,” Wonwoo grumbles, biting down on a particularly large bite of food.
“Our boyfriends broke up with each other,” Seokmin solemnly says. Soonyoung nods along in the same manner, head going up and down slowly. He turns to Soonyoung and holds his hand out to him, giving him his best puppy dog eyes. “You’ll never break up with me, will you, Soonyoung-hyung?”
“You’re gonna have to have me surgically removed from your hip, Seokmin-ah!” Soonyoung grabs onto Seokmin’s hand with both of his, only for Seokmin to bring his other hand up to cover Soonyoung’s with it at the same time.
“What do you think we’ll do, Wonwoo-hyung?” Seokmin asks, one day, after they’ve finished wrapping up practice for the evening.
Wonwoo blinks slowly, three times, before his brain registers what Seokmin is asking about—right. The fact that they’ve been fake dating for about three months now. Soonyoung is very nosy, especially about their relationship, because that’s just how he’s always been. He gets over it after a while, but for the first year or so, he’s always very in to the relationships of his best friends. He had been the same way with Mingyu and Junhui, and then again with Minghao and Seungcheol.
“Soonyoung-hyung will probably be really devastated when he finds out,” Seokmin says, as if he’s reading Wonwoo’s mind. That’s something he seems to always be able to do, read Wonwoo like an open book. It makes him feel—a lot of things, really, but most of all, it makes Wonwoo feel seen.
“Probably,” Wonwoo says, voice a bit quieter than he’d meant it to be. He closes the piano cover gently, reaching up to close the top of the piano as well, before he grabs his sheet music and gathers them up into a pile. “He’ll be able to get over it, though. And I don’t think he’d let your friendship fall through just because we ‘break up’.” Wonwoo makes air quotes with the last two words. He tucks his sheet music folder back into his bag, turning around to face Seokmin.
He’s a little taken aback at how Seokmin looks. He’s standing above his still open violin case, holding his violin in his hands. He’s running his fingers over the side of it lightly, watching it with such an intense gaze. Wonwoo isn’t sure what he’s supposed to think, not sure if he should try reading into this situation more than he knows he already will tonight when he tries to sleep. Seokmin is treating his violin with such care . He always does, but this—this type of gentleness and care seems so different to Wonwoo. Seokmin treats it like it’s made of glass, as if he presses into it even just the slightest bit more, then it will shatter into pieces right before him.
Wonwoo swallows silently, feeling the way his throat feels so tight when he does it. “Seokmin-ah?”
The quiet call of his name seems to snap Seokmin out of it. He startles a little, hand lying flat over the strings and bridge of the violin. Seokmin looks up and manages a smile, before he turns his attention back to packing up his violin. When it’s in its case and all settled, Seokmin turns back to Wonwoo and gives him a gentle smile.
“Let’s get dinner, hyung,” Seokmin says, holding his hand out to him.
Wonwoo takes it without thinking, slipping his fingers through Seokmin’s, and there’s only a tiny part of him that regrets it.
Somehow, the entire orchestra gets wind of Wonwoo’s and Seokmin’s “relationship.”
Wonwoo has no idea how it happened. The two of them have been keeping this fake relationship strictly between themselves, and Wonwoo’s friends. So how in the world any of their orchestra seatmates found out is beyond Wonwoo.
They receive so many congratulations, it’s pretty overwhelming to Wonwoo. Seokmin takes it all in stride, thanking everyone for their words and smiling at every turn. Wonwoo can’t say the same about himself. He offers fragile smiles to everyone who talks to him, avoiding actually talking to anyone, unless he’s practically forced to. He doesn’t understand how Seokmin can be so calm about this, especially when such a small misunderstanding on Soonyoung’s part has blossomed into something so much more than Wonwoo thinks he is capable of handling.
Seokmin finds him in the very back of the theatre’s backstage. It’s where most of their unused props, instruments, and anything else miscellaneous that the orchestra and other performers don’t need sit and collect dust. It’s a very secluded, the perfect place for Wonwoo to go to when he needs some time alone and to think, recharge himself when things become just too much for him to be able to cope with.
“Wonwoo-hyung.” He looks up when he hears Seokmin’s voice, a permanent frown on his face. Seokmin doesn’t seem to mind, shuffling up to Wonwoo’s side and sitting down beside him on the box. He doesn’t say anything more for a while, merely slipping his arm under Wonwoo’s and reaching his hand down, sliding his hand in beside Wonwoo’s.
It’s a nice feeling. Calming and grounding. Having Seokmin’s hand in his helps him feel more here. Wonwoo stares down at their joined hands, merely watching the way Seokmin is slowly and gently running his thumb along the back of his hand. Their shoulders are pressed together, with Seokmin starting to lean his weight into Wonwoo, another sensation that grounds Wonwoo into reality.
“I’m sorry, hyung,” Seokmin murmurs the words so quietly, Wonwoo almost misses them. He turns his head to look at the younger, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Seokmin offers an apologetic and somewhat sheepish smile. “I just mean—I’m sorry, that you have to pretend to be in a relationship with me. It’s probably not what you wanted in the first place. I should have told Soonyoung-hyung and Jihoon-hyung at the double date—that we’re not really dating. Shouldn’t have let it get so far like this.”
Wonwoo feels like ice is being run through his veins right now. Seokmin’s face is smiling, but his eyes tell a much different story. They’re so sad, something that Wonwoo isn’t used to seeing on Seokmin. He’s looking at Wonwoo with regret and guilt, and Wonwoo hates that look. He doesn’t want to see any kind of negative emotions on Seokmin—they don’t suit him and his beautiful personality. He should be smiling, with his eyes sparkling as bright as stars. He should be happy, with his nose scrunched up and the loveliest laugh leaving his lips. Instead, Seokmin is sad—broken?—because of something that neither of them have had any real control over.
Wonwoo opens his mouth, his words and all the air in his lungs getting caught in his throat. He wants—so much—and he wants and he wants and he wants. There are so many things that Wonwoo wants, that he’s absolutely terrified of voicing into the world in fear of his own inept abilities to truly deal with and express himself.
“It’s alright, you don’t have to force yourself to say anything,” Seokmin looks away from him then, fingers gently squeezing Wonwoo’s. “I just… I wanted to apologize for this entire mess. If you want, in another month or two, we can finally tell everyone that we’ve broken up. That we work better off just as friends and coworkers, yeah?”
Wonwoo can practically feel the wobble in Seokmin’s voice. The way it’s much too soft and breathy, the way he can see Seokmin’s chest stuttering as he breathes. Wonwoo can feel the corners of his eyes prickling with wetness, mist starting to form in his vision. He wonders if Seokmin is also feeling the same, if even just the idea of them breaking up—even if this entire relationship has been a farce—makes him feel like a giant black hole has just been punched through his chest, the same way that Wonwoo feels right at this very moment.
They lapse back into silence then, the two of them merely leaning into one another, keeping their hands clasped together tightly between their thighs. Wonwoo wonders if Seokmin can feel the way he’s slightly shaking, the way his heart won’t stop beating so loudly and roughly in his chest. He wonders if Seokmin can tell every little detail about him, the way that Wonwoo can tell every detail about Seokmin. His heart feels so heavy, like lead or concrete or something even heavier than them, suspended in air in the middle of his chest. It aches over something that’s yet to come, of just the mere possibility of something, forcing Wonwoo to come to the absolute truth of the situation that he’s found himself in.
He’s really fucked now.
Their dynamics shift a little, after that day. They’re still the same as they were, practicing whenever they can together, and making sure to keep themselves professional when they’re at the orchestra. It’s harder now, though, when Wonwoo knows that everyone here believes the two of them to be dating and in love. He constantly feels eyes watching him, especially whenever he’s near Seokmin. He never initiates any kind of PDA, only because that’s not the type of person he truly is, especially at their workplace, but Seokmin is always in charge of keeping everyone aware of their “relationship.”
Seokmin will give him gentle touches, usually just against his back or his shoulders. He’ll occasionally smile in his direction during particularly rough group practices, and will do his best to shield Wonwoo from any of the prying eyes that try to force their way into Wonwoo and Seokmin’s personal lives, even more so than they already do. Wonwoo is thankful, but also feels rather awful about Seokmin having to be the one to put up most of a front for everyone else around them. There’s only so much that Wonwoo can do without making a fool out of himself.
It’ll be over in a month, Wonwoo thinks, attempting to keep his focus on memorizing the notes of their newest piece. Just one more month, and we’ll be fine. We can go back to normal.
It’s much easier said than it is believing in those words.
Wonwoo gets a call out of the blue one evening, late into the night when he’s just teetering on the edge of finally going to sleep—he’s unsurprised to see that it’s Soonyoung’s number and ID card on the screen. He blinks tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his palm as he presses the answer button, holding the phone up to his ear. “What is it, Soonyoung-ah? Did Jihoon-ah die already?”
“Why would you think I’ve died?” He hears Jihoon’s voice, but it’s further away from the mic.
Soonyoung just laughs. “No, he’s fine—that’s not the point of the call! Has Jun-ah contacted you yet?”
“No,” Wonwoo mumbles, yawning quietly. “Not yet, at least.”
“He and Minghao-yah are going to perform at a very big theatre! For traditional Chinese dance! There’s gonna be a really big dinner for it after, too, so you have to come!”
Wonwoo is so tired that he just mumbles his agreement to Soonyoung. He’d say yes anyway, especially if Junhui had been planning on asking him to come in the first place, because that’s what best friends are for. He’s still so out of it, ready for Soonyoung to hurry up and hang up so he can sleep, when Soonyoung’s happy voice rings out in his ear:
“Don’t forget to bring your boyfriend, too, Wonu-yah!”
The call hangs up before Wonwoo has a chance to say a single word. Wonwoo holds his phone up over his face, staring at it, mouth hanging open slightly. Soonyoung’s signed them up for another event, already, and Wonwoo doesn’t even know the date of it.
“Fuck.” Wonwoo lets his phone drop to the pillow beside his head, raising his hands up and scrubbing them over his face. “Fuck.”
Wonwoo tells Seokmin the next day. It’s their one-on-one practice, so there’s no one else around, and Seokmin gives Wonoo this look that’s… extremely difficult for Wonwoo to decipher. He feels like he might know, but he also feels like everything about himself and the world are tilted upside down and he can’t find his footing anymore.
“When is it?” Seokmin asks, not looking at Wonwoo. He’s getting his violin ready, gaze fixated on the strings.
“Next month,” Wonwoo replies, staring down his own sheet music on the bench. His hands feel like lead, heavy and so hard to pick up. He’s not really sure if he’s going to be able to actually play today, but he doesn’t want to disappoint Seokmin, either.
“I guess the break-up plan will have to wait then, huh?” Seokmin laughs, slightly breathy, the sound of it sad and upset to Wonwoo’s ears.
Wonwoo’s fingers twitch against his legs, before he digs them into his jeans. He wants to say something—anything—but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can hear Jihoon calling him a coward in his mind, loud and clear, and though he’s always tried to deny it, Wonoo can’t help but agree with the Jihoon in his head about this entire situation.
“Don’t worry, hyung.” Wonwoo turns his head up a bit, looking up towards Seokmin over the rims of his glasses. Seokmin smiles, that same sad and fragile thing, the one that Wonwoo has been seeing over and over when they’re alone together. “You’ll be able to get rid of me soon.”
Wonwoo wants to think he can hear how heartbroken Seokmin is. He wants to let himself believe that Seokmin feels something towards him, genuinely, that this is truly just as painful for Seokmin as it is for him, but he just—can’t. The mental block Wonwoo has on himself keeps him from allowing himself to just feel, to stop reaching and grasping at straws for things that don’t mean a thing. Communication has never been Wonwoo’s strong suit, it’s why he’s been in the trenches of having a crush on Seokmin for so long in the first place.
He’s genuinely been believing that he’ll get over this crush on Seokmin, despite the fact that he’s still feeling so strongly towards him after all these years. That eventually Seokmin will begin to realize that Wonwoo is not all he seems to be—that he is a mental mess, with a life structured around it to keep himself from slipping further under the surface. He thinks—no matter how many reassurances he’s been given—Seokmin will finally tire of him, when he finally comes to the same realizations that Wonwoo has come to acknowledge about himself. Someone better will come along, someone who will actually be able to make Seokmin happy every single day, not someone who will constantly second guess himself and Seokmin’s feelings towards him.
They practice together. It’s much different than their previous practices, because both Seokmin and Wonwoo’s feelings are not on the same page—the wavelengths between them are frazzled and wired, clashing even in the tension of the air. Practicing this new piece only makes it worse, because neither of them are used to playing the notes, and if one of them messes up, they have to acknowledge it. It feels like acknowledging them, about the mistakes happening between them and the situation they’ve put themselves in. Seokmin will apologize, his words delicate and like glass, piercing themselves into Wonwoo’s skin and sinking further down.
Wonwoo goes home alone that evening, directly after practice. They don’t get dinner like usual. They had barely looked at one another when packing up, and Wonwoo had only gotten a quiet “bye, hyung” from Seokmin, the tiniest of smiles on his lips.
Wonwoo’s entire being aches. He stares up at the ceiling of his living room, laid flat on his back against the floor, letting the seconds and minutes tick by. He doesn’t answer the phone, even when it rings. He sends one text to the groupchat with his friends—a singular emoji, of the black hole—and sets it down and aside, putting it on silent. His mind is fried, empty of all thoughts except for Seokmin.
It feels like there’s a storm above him, raging constantly. Where he once was able to look up and find the sun shining down on him, now Wonwoo only feels the heavy, damp sensation of rain clouds over his head. Their constant teetering of turning darker, a threat of thunder and lightning to make Wonwoo’s mind spiral even further into the depths of his own thoughts and feelings. Abandoned at sea with nothing but his own wits, the tiny boat he’s in rocking back and forth, threatening to tip over and dunk him straight into the water.
He feels a little like he’s ready to drown.
Minghao’s and Junhui’s performance is stunning. Wonwoo knows that the two of them are amazing dancers—they wouldn’t be part of a dance crew as popular as SPIDER with Soonyoung if they weren’t—but there are times when he forgets just how amazing of dancers they are, especially when it comes to something as precise and methodical as traditional Chinese dancing. Wonwoo doesn’t know much about the world of this said art, but he’s seen just how hard his friends have worked to become as good as they are, and Wonwoo can’t help but feel so overwhelmingly proud of the two of them.
He tells them as much at the dinner after the performance. It’s for the dancers and their families and friends—Wonwoo feels slightly out of place, unsure about where to put himself in their surroundings. It’s easier with his friends around, he thinks, but he still keeps himself hidden at their table, watching the rest of them mingle with the other dancers and the people who have accompanied them.
Mingyu, Seokmin, and Minghao are talking to Junhui’s dancing partner, all of them talking animatedly together. He sees Seokmin’s hands moving up and down, seeming so much more like himself than he’s been in the past month. It feels—strange and odd, watching Seokmin blend so seamlessly into the rest of Wonwoo’s life and his circle of friends. He fits amongst them so easily, charming all of them with his sense of humour and dashing smiles, his mere presence giving them all a sense of comfort. It seems that, right now, everyone can make the real Seokmin come out, while Wonwoo is the cause of him crumbling apart.
“You’re thinking so hard,” Jihoon’s words snap Wonwoo out of his thoughts. He tries to not frown, but still has half a one when he turns to look at his friend. Jihoon is watching him, eyes sharp. “Wonwoo-yah… you know you can talk to me about things, right?”
Wonwoo looks away then, his gaze gradually finding its way back to Seokmin, who’s currently chugging down a glass of champagne with Mingyu. “Yeah. I know.”
Jihoon has always been able to see right through Wonwoo. He might think that he’s a closed off book, walls so high that people never fully want to climb them, but Jihoon had managed to go over Wonwoo’s expectations. Maybe it’s just because they’ve all been friends for so long—since high school for some, and the beginning of university for others—that makes it so easy for Jihoon to see through all of Wonwoo’s bullshit. There are times when Wonwoo is thankful for it, but right now, he doesn’t think that he has it in him to lay his soul bare to Jihoon.
“Wonu-yah, Jihoon-ah~” Soonyoung comes stumbling over to their table, obviously a bit tipsy. He’s not particularly the best at holding his alcohol—he tends to go from loud and active, to quiet and clingy, usually ending up right on Jihoon’s side towards the end of the night.
“Soonyoung-ah,” Wonwoo smiles lightly, amused at his best friend’s antics, reaching up and patting Soonyoung’s back. Soonyoung beams, leaning down and rubbing his head against Wonwoo’s hugging around his shoulders.
“Soonyoung-hyung, stop trying to steal my boyfriend,” Seokmin’s sudden words make Wonwoo stiffen slightly. He turns to look up at Seokmin over his shoulder, eyes widening slightly at the way Seokmin is legitimately pouting over their interaction. It’s—terribly adorable, and Wonwoo has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying so.
Seokmin’s cheeks are flushed, and he’s obviously on the tipsy side of being drunk just like Soonyoung is—just how much alcohol he’s had, Wonwoo isn’t sure, and he’s a little surprised that he’s managed to drink so much in the short amount of time that he’s been away from Wonwoo. He tries to not think about that part too much, merely letting himself focus on the current strain of events happening in front of him.
“Seokmin-ah’s so lucky,” Soonyoung sighs dramatically, curling his arms around Wonwoo’s head. Wonwoo can’t help but smile, reaching up and patting the side of Soonyoung’s arm. “Wonu’s never really dated ‘fore, he’s such a loner. I always felt so bad for ‘im back in uni…”
“Hyung…” Wonwoo practically whines, and though Soonyoung is only a few months older and doesn’t particularly like Wonwoo calling him hyung, he feels like this is an instant where he sort of needs to call Soonyoung hyung.
“It’s true!” Soonyoung sniffs, squeezing Wonwoo’s head between his arms. “I’m so glad you’ve got Seokmin-ah now… he’s so good for you, Wonu-yah.”
Wonwoo glances between him and Seokmin, feeling his heart suddenly drop into his stomach. Soonyoung’s words are genuine, but he doesn’t know the truth behind the two of them—that they haven’t really been dating for the past several months, and Wonwoo is no longer good for Seokmin.
Soonyoung finally lets go of him when Jihoon carefully coaxes him away, letting Soonyoung cover him in drunken kisses, even though they’re still in the middle of public. Jihoon gives Wonwoo a nod, a reassuring smile on his face, before he takes Soonyoung off—probably to find Junhui or Minghao and to let him hang all over them instead of him.
The two of them are left alone at the table now, and Seokmin slips into the chair beside Wonwoo. He pulls it right up next to Wonwoo’s chair, and decides to plaster himself against Wonwoo’s instead of actually sitting in his chair. Wonwoo doesn’t move, stiffening up in his spot, as Seokmin’s head comes to rest against his shoulder—sighing the moment he gets himself comfortable against Wonwoo’s side. One of Wonwoo’s hands twitches against his thigh, the urge to hold Seokmin in his arms becoming so strong.
He doesn’t do that. Instead, he merely reaches his hand up and rests it on the top of Seokmin’s head, keeping it in place. Wonwoo watches as Seokmin reaches his hand out, fingers searching, until he grabs Wonwoo’s other hand and tangles their fingers together, squeezing it rather tightly. Wonwoo is hyper aware of the fact that they’re in the middle of a large room, filled to the brim with other people, and yet, it feels like it’s just the two of them in this very moment. He lets himself relax, just slightly, enough to where he can lean his head in and down, pressing his nose against Seokmin’s hair.
Wonwoo wants to kiss him. In any way that he possibly can. His cheek, his forehead, his hands—anything that Seokmin is willing to give him, Wonwoo is more than willing to take. He’s desperate, more than he cares to admit, the acknowledgement of this making him feel rather pathetic. And maybe he truly is pathetic, continuously self-sabotaging himself this way—allowing for Seokmin to bury himself deeper into Wonwoo’s heart. He’s planted himself there, slowly blooming into a tangled mess of vines that squeeze around Wonwoo’s heart until he feels like it’s constantly bleeding raw.
They end up leaving the dinner about an hour later, after Seokmin had drank another glass or two of champagne. Wonwoo takes Seokmin home to his apartment, the one he shares with his best friend, Seungkwan—Wonwoo has only had the chance to meet him a few times, at some of their orchestra performances—and carefully leads Seokmin in.
“Seokmin-ah,” Wonwoo calls his name softly, attempting to pull him away from his side.
Seokmin makes a noise, refusing to move. He merely presses himself against Wonwoo’s side even more, his hands gripping onto Wonwoo’s other arm, like he’s trying to trap Wonwoo in place. Wonwoo wouldn’t mind becoming trapped here, in Seokmin’s embrace. He shakes himself out of those thoughts, shrugging his shoulders up and down until Seokmin outright whines, slowly letting his head fall back, lolling to the side a few seconds later.
“Wonwoo-hyung,” Seokmin’s voice is whining, slightly demanding, and if Wonwoo were any more weaker than he already is, he would give in to him so easily. His head is already spinning—he hasn’t heard Seokmin call him by his actual name in ages. Just hearing him say it again makes Wonwoo feel close to tears. “I miss you, hyung.”
Wonwoo blinks rapidly, forcing the wetness back. “Seokmin-ah, I’m right here. We just spent all day together.”
“But…” Seokmin’s voice seems so small, wobbling slightly as he speaks. “I still miss you. You’re always so far from me.”
Wonwoo feels those vines around his heart constrict, tightening and digging themselves deeper into his veins. He breathes out slowly through his nose, using his arms to carefully adjust Seokmin’s weight against his side. He turns his head away, too much of a coward to continue looking Seokmin in the eyes as he carefully pulls Seokmin down the hallway and to his room. Seokmin allows Wonwoo to carry him so easily, lets himself go lax in Wonwoo’s hold as he’s put down on the bed. As Wonwoo tries to pull away, to leave, Seokmin grabs onto him.
He turns, mouth partially open and ready to tell Seokmin to sleep, when Wonwoo feels Seokmin’s hands curling around his neck. He’s shocked into stillness, his eyes going wide as Seokmin starts to pull him down. He thinks Seokmin is about to hug him, which is fine enough, but Wonwoo’s not sure he can handle being so close to him all of a sudden—
And then Seokmin kisses him.
Seokmin’s lips are on his, soft and warm, tasting of the champagne he had drank earlier. Wonwoo’s breath hitches then stills throughout his entire body, the shock of it too much for his brain to handle. His hands hover just above Seokmin’s arms, unable to actually touch the other. Wonwoo stands there, bent awkwardly, as Seokmin continues to kiss him. He’s barely processed what’s happened when Seokmin slips away from him, falling into the comfort of his bed. Seokmin blinks up at him, slow and sleepy—his eyes are begging Wonwoo for something, but he doesn’t know what.
Wonwoo carefully tucks Seokmin’s arms back into him, pulling up the blanket and covering the younger man with it. Seokmin’s eyes flutter shut, breathing in and out, slow and deep, until it evens out and he’s falling asleep. Wonwoo watches him briefly, one hand frozen in midair above his head, so tempted to reach out and run his fingers through the strands of hair—only for him to pull away, standing up and turning away from Seokmin entirely.
He leaves with a silent goodbye, after setting out some water and medicine for Seokmin to take in the morning time.
Wonwoo doesn’t see Seokmin after that.
He sees him, brief and short contacts when they’re working at the orchestra with the whole symphony, but Wonwoo has all but cancelled their one-on-one practice sessions together. He doesn’t reach out—doesn’t call or text Seokmin about these things, and Seokmin also doesn’t reach out to him. He’s started to avoid going to the theatre, determined to keep his interactions with Seokmin to almost none, as much as he possibly can.
Seokmin’s name constantly stares at him in his messages, in his contacts, in his Latest Calls. The pictures that they took together during their “relationship,” because Soonyoung would often ask them to send selfies of them together as was his want at the time, burning themselves into his retinas as he stares at them, his thumbs constantly hovering over the ‘Delete’ button. Wonwoo can’t bring himself to delete them. He can’t bring himself to remove any of it. Even if he were to delete them all, erase them from the timeline and his mind, it would bring no resolution to the constant aching inside of his chest.
Jihoon calls him on occasion, as do Junhui and Mingyu. They talk to him for hours, an attempt to distract him from the emotional chaos constantly swirling around in his head. He’s already told his friends he and Seokmin have broken up, a week after the dinner event. Soonyoung had been devastated, as Wonwoo had expected, and the others had given him their condolences about the relationship.
“You know, I really thought it would last,” Jihoon says to him one night, as he, Junhui, and Wonwoo all have dinner at Wonwoo’s place. “I know you’ve really liked Seokmin-ah for a while, too.”
Wonwoo stares down at the dumplings in front of him, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. He hadn’t told his friends the truth about it, even though he’d told them they’d broken up. He feels awful, lying even now, and that’s why the words come spilling out of him.
“We were never really dating,” he confesses, words heavy on his tongue. He can feel Junhui and Jihoon staring into him. “Soonyoung-ah saw us holding hands and said that… and—” Wonwoo swallows around his tongue, Seokmin’s name on the tip of it. “He just sort of went along with it. I didn’t know he would. We thought we’d be able to break up after a month or so, but then the entire orchestra found out, and…”
Wonwoo frowns deeply, setting down his chopsticks. He doesn’t feel hungry anymore. He senses movement, his shoulders stiffening up when he feels someone’s arm going around his shoulders. He peers up a bit, seeing Junhui has moved to his side. Wonwoo can barely offer a small tilt of his lips, afraid of doing much else—he feels like cracked glass, just moments away from shattering into shards.
“I’m sorry,” Junhui says, voice kind and gentle. He reaches up, pulling Wonwoo’s head down against his chest. Though he’s not one for such intense affections from his friends, Wonwoo goes willingly. He shudders when he breathes out this time, eyes closing, hands curled up into fists in his lap.
He cries without giving himself permission. The tears start flowing, and he just can’t stop them. Wonwoo’s shoulders shake with the intensity of his sobs, the rest of his body following suit. The boat keeping him afloat has turned, hurling him into the depths of the sea he’s been trying to navigate—he truly feels like he’s drowning, with the intensity of the pain he feels inside of him. He’s grateful that his friends are here right now, that they’re not trying to get anything out of him—Jihoon and Junhui are just here, allowing Wonwoo to feel as much as he needs, becoming the shoulders that he can lean on.
“You should talk to him,” Junhui says lightly, knowing just how Wonwoo works. “I know it’s going to be hard for you, but even if it started as a misunderstanding because of Soonyoung-ah, Seokmin should still be allowed to hear your feelings on the matter.”
Wonwoo licks his lips, pursing them. He stares down at his hands, studying the layout of his own palms and the insides of his fingers.
“Jun-ah’s right,” Jihoon says. His hand goes up and down Wonwoo’s back, a soothing motion that he appreciates. “Talk to him, Wonwoo-yah. I know you can’t see it yourself, but—” Jihoon glances at Junhui, a momentary pause in his words. Wonwoo waits for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, he lifts his head up a bit to look at his friend, eyebrows furrowed.
“But I don’t think he was pretending.” Jihoon finishes, staring directly into Wonwoo’s eyes. “The way he always looked at you—that’s not something you can fake, Wonwoo. Whether you think he was putting on a complete front or not, I don’t believe that for a second myself.”
Wonwoo opens his mouth, but Junhui intercepts before he can. “I agree. Seokmin looked at you like you hung the moon and made all of the stars in the sky. I really don’t think someone could act like that just for a fake relationship—it’s not like he had to act like he was in some kind of drama, so why put so much effort into looking at someone the way he did when he looked at you?”
Their words bounce around inside of Wonwoo’s skull for the rest of the night, even as they finish their dinner and watch a few movies. Jihoon falls asleep halfway through their second one, curled up in the corner of the couch, neck angled a bit awkward on the back of it. Junhui falls asleep second, sprawled out on the other part of the couch, one leg behind Jihoon’s own legs, the other hanging off of the side of it haphazardly. Wonwoo sits in front of the couch, head leaning back against it, unable to sleep. He’s tired, hanging just over the edge of exhaustion, but he just… can’t sleep.
Every time he closes his eyes, he thinks of Seokmin. Even when they’re open, and he’s watching the rest of the movie they’ve put on, he can only think of Seokmin. About how he had looked at him, about the brightness he could see in Seokmin’s eyes, about the way Seokmin would always seek out any way to be close to him, about how his smile had always seemed to be the brightest around him. Maybe he has been blinded by his own inability to let himself go—to truly let himself go, and accept the fact that there’s a possibility where someone as amazing, caring, and beautiful as Seokmin could actually, truly, return his feelings.
Wonwoo hasn’t been to the orchestra in a couple of weeks. He’s been telling the instructors he needs some time to recover from—something, and he’s pretty sure that all of his coworkers must know that it’s about Seokmin and their relationship. None of them request him to come in, just ask that he work on the pieces of music at home whenever he can. Wonwoo does just that, but he always feels an emptiness in his chest at not being able to go to the theatre and put on his best for them. His own emotional turmoil is causing them to lose their main pianist.
Still, maybe they’ve found a replacement for him already. That replacement could easily be ten times as better than Wonwoo, and who knows, maybe in another week, he’ll get a phone call from the concertmaster telling him that they don’t need him anymore—that they’ve found someone better, stronger and more capable. He’s accepted a fate that’s not even come to fruition, all because he can’t bring himself to actually go in and see Seokmin.
But he misses the theatre deeply. He misses the way the music sounds when he plays it, the way the notes are able to wrap around him and encase him in the wonderful way that they sound. He misses the theatre piano—he’s become so familiar with it that the instrument now feels like it’s part of him, an extension of himself.
Wonwoo stares at his phone, holding it up above himself. He taps on the contact name of their concertmaster, slowly types out the message he wants to say—stares at the screen for a little longer, before he carefully taps the ‘Send’ button. He wants to know if the theatre is empty right now, or if they’ve already finished practice. She says they’ve finished for the day already, and that it’s free to use. She doesn’t question him as to why he didn’t want to come in earlier. She just wishes him luck, and tells him he’s good to use it if he’d like.
The theatre is dark and empty when Wonwoo arrives there. It feels so hollow around him, when usually it feels so warm and welcoming. It often feels like coming home when he steps into the theatre, but tonight—it feels cold. He wonders if the theatre is mad at him, if it’s upset because he hasn’t come by to see it in so long. Wonwoo’s legs take him straight to the piano, his hand running along the cover over the keys. This part does feel like coming home. He opens the piano up, runs his fingers along the very edge as he circles the piano, then carefully takes a seat on the bench in front of the keys.
He lifts the cover, setting it back carefully, and slowly runs his fingers over the keys. Wonwoo feels his shoulders sagging, closing his eyes as he revels in the feeling of the keys against his fingers. He’s missed this, the way that this piano feels under his palms. He smooths his hands over the laminated wood, leaning forward until his head is leaning against the music holder. Wonwoo feels—so much. His heart swells inside of his chest, overcome with all of these feelings he’s been bottling up inside of him. He’s never been good at expressing himself—it’s the reason he became so enamoured with music in the first place—and the piano is his only solace in times like this. Wonwoo sits back, straightening his back, eyes slowly opening. He holds his hands out as he breathes in deeply. Lets it out slowly as he closes his eyes once more, slowly lowering his hands.
He begins playing.
It’s a song he knows by heart now, one that he’s playing since he began learning. It’s always spoken to him in ways that he can never truly verbalize—it fills his entire body with a rush of emotions that runs from the tips of his fingers down to the tips of his toes. Whenever he listens to it, he can always lay back and just—immerse himself into the magic of the music. All of Chopin’s pieces—especially his Nocturnes—have always been able to draw out Wonwoo’s true emotions. He often finds himself using them as a means to cry, letting the emotions come and go in waves, spilling out of him like they normally should without such a large push.
Playing this song is easy. Wonwoo has all of the notes memorized, the placement of his fingers and hands coming to him so naturally, one might think he’s been playing this since he was just a child. His body moves from side to side, his hands gliding across the keys as he lets the melody thrum through his entire body. The theatre allows for the song to surround him, the volume high and loud and piercing in Wonwoo’s ears. He can feel the pricking of tears in the corners of his eyes, even as his eyes are closed—the buildup of his emotions rises in his chest, up and up and up until he feels himself becoming so overwhelmed.
The tears start to roll down his cheeks the closer he gets closer to the end of the song, the music becoming quieter and softer, until the final key is pressed. The single note rings out, slow and steady, fading out into nothing. Wonwoo breathes in deeply as he lifts his hands from the piano, sitting back on the bench. He opens his eyes, reaching up to rub the tears away from his skin, letting out a slow sigh. The song has definitely helped him in getting his emotions in range, figuring out just what exactly he wants to try and do.
The longer he sits at the piano, the more his mind begins to wander—always back to Seokmin. His heart gives a beat. Then another. And another. It beats so steady in his chest, despite the anxiety and fear that he feels revolving around Seokmin. They haven’t seen each other in weeks, and Wonwoo hasn’t a single idea what would happen were they to see each other now.
Would Seokmin approach him? Would he ignore his presence? Would he attempt to engage in conversation with him, go back to the friendly relationship that had been between them? Or would he look at Wonwoo with that solemn, broken expression once more? Would Seokmin look at him like he regrets ever meeting him, ever allowing himself to be so firmly planted in Wonwoo’s life, only to be ripped right away? Would he want to reconcile, rekindle their relationship from the tiniest of embers, until they can start again?
Would Seokmin hate him?
If he were Seokmin, he would hate Wonwoo. He can’t imagine the pain he’s been putting Seokmin through, the intensity of what that must be like for someone who is always so positive, so vibrant and lovely and extraordinary. Jihoon and Junhui are right. Wonwoo needs to talk to him. But he’s so cowardly, forcing himself to be content with the fact that he can just—run away. That he doesn’t need to confront what’s happened between them. That he could easily just pack his things and leave the orchestra, allow himself to be replaced by someone who could be much better for the symphony—and for Seokmin.
But. But. But.
Wonwoo doesn’t want there to be someone better for him. Wonwoo wants to be that someone better for Seokmin. Because that’s always how Wonwoo has felt about him—about how Seokmin can really affect him. Seokmin is like a guiding light—strong and almost blinding, like if you stare at him for too long you may go blind. Wonwoo wouldn’t mind going blind, if it meant the image of Seokmin would be imprinted into his mind—if Seokmin was the last thing that he ever got to see in this world.
Wonwoo’s hands reach out to the piano on their own, his mind racing with thoughts of Seokmin, Seokmin, Seokmin. Even now, in this fragile and broken time, Wonwoo can’t stop the way his heart feels for him. The love he’s felt inside of him for years is starting to become so overwhelming, needing to be poured out into the world in some way. Wonwoo decides, the very moment his hands touch the keys, that when he sees Seokmin next, he’ll confess.
Another song comes to him then, feeling a need to play it into the open air. The notes ring out through the theatre, bouncing off of the walls and back to him, loud and pronounced and full of the love that’s been building up inside of him for so long. Wonwoo’s body moves along to the tempo of the song, unable to keep himself from closing his eyes, wanting to let the music wash over him in the same way Chopin’s piece had done.
He moves back and forth, leaning in and back with certain movements, letting himself simply move along with the notes, building up until it comes to a crescendo—then, the notes peter out and down until they’re so soft and quiet. Wonwoo keeps himself mostly still as he finishes out the song, the notes so much more gentle than the beautiful, loud, love-filled notes from before. The ending is slow, melancholic as he reaches the final notes.
Wonwoo suddenly feels like he can breathe again. He opens his eyes, letting his hands fall into his lap as he tilts his head back, looking up to the ceiling of the theatre. His mind is so much clearer, like the music was able to truly speak through him and allow his mind to just—think. Somehow, for some reason, he just feels prepared.
He reaches down into his pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it and quickly tapping through it until he comes to Seokmin’s contact. He stares at it for just a few seconds, before he taps the ‘Call’ button.
It rings. Once. Twice. Then—
Something rings throughout the theatre. Wonwoo pulls his phone away from his ear in shock, blinking down at the screen, showing that it is, really, calling Seokmin’s number. The ringing gets louder, and louder, as if it’s coming closer to Wonwoo—he keeps the call ringing as he turns on the piano bench, ready to stand, only for him to see Seokmin.
He’s standing in one of the aisle ways of the theatre, between the seats. Seokmin’s eyes are wide, his hand gripping onto his violin case in his hand. The ringing is from his phone. But he’s not answering, because he’s here.
Seokmin is here, standing just before Wonwoo, staring at him with such an unreadable expression.
Wonwoo’s mouth falls open, his thumb slowly tapping the ‘End Call’ button as his hand falls to his side. He turns a bit more on the bench, starting to stand. “Seokmin-ah…” His name falls from Wonwoo’s lips so easily, yet his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton.
Wonwoo watches in shock—and a bit of awe—as Seokmin sets his violin case down and starts walking. Towards him. He’s marching right through the aisle and right up the stairs that lead up to the stage, and Wonwoo is frozen in place, standing in front of the piano bench. Seokmin reaches him, and Wonwoo—has no idea what to do.
Seokmin is so handsome. Even with this indecipherable look on his face, Wonwoo can’t help but be in awe at just how good Seokmin looks. It hits him, right then, that he’s missed him. Wonwoo has known, of course he’s missed Seokmin, but he hadn’t realized just how badly he had been yearning to see Seokmin in person. It almost feels unreal, like a dream. Maybe that’s what it is. Wonwoo must have fallen asleep at the piano, or on the floor, and this is just a dream. This Seokmin is just a figment of Wonwoo’s imagination, conjured up, belonging in Wonwoo’s mind even in his sleep.
Then Seokmin says, “Wonwoo-hyung,” the tone of his voice in such broken awe, and Wonwoo wants to fall to his knees. He wants to drop down and bow, beg Seokmin for forgiveness and apologize for just how stupid of a person he’s been. Confess all of the love inside his heart and tell Seokmin how he makes Wonwoo want to be a better person, a stronger person.
He’s so close to doing it, mouth still hanging open in surprise. Wonwoo takes a careful step forward, his right hand twitching slightly as he slowly holds it up in Seokmin’s direction. Seokmin seems to mirror his actions, taking several steps forward, carefully reaching his hand up. He hesitates, right before he can touch Wonwoo, and Wonwoo lets him make the first move. Seokmin’s fingers brush against his, knuckles knocking together until Seokmin’s fingers are slipping in between his own.
“Seokmin-ah,” Wonwoo tries again, his voice giving out on him on the final syllable. His throat is so tight, his mouth dry, feeling like his tongue is too big for his mouth right now. “I—”
“I love you.” Seokmin is the first one to say it between them. It shocks Wonwoo to the core, a sort of numbing sensation suddenly going through his entire body. His head swims, replaying the words over and over in those few seconds of silence, before Seokmin is speaking up again. “Wonwoo-hyung. I love you.”
This must be a dream. This has to be a dream. Wonwoo playing Liszt’s Love Dream must have manifested this entire situation for him. There’s no way that this is real.
But he can feel the warmth of Seokmin’s hand in his own. He can see the emotions in Seokmin’s eyes, can hear the way he’s breathing rather deeply. There’s so much shock going through him, yet Wonwoo can’t help the way he moves forward. He carefully slips his hand from Seokmin’s as he walks forward, reaching both of his hands up and cupping Seokmin’s face in them. He runs his thumbs over Seokmin’s cheeks gently, relishing in the feeling of being so close to him and being able to hold him like this—
Wonwoo does what he does best. He uses his actions, and not his words. He leans down, tilting Seokmin’s head up slightly, and kisses him.
He kisses him with all the passion and intensity he can muster, trying to convey just how much Wonwoo feels towards him. The immeasurable amount of love inside of him, all for Seokmin. Wonwoo nearly sighs as he feels Seokmin kissing back, the other’s hands coming up to cradle Wonwoo’s face in the exact same manner. He can feel the calluses on Seokmin’s fingers, new and old alike, the small bumps, something that Wonwoo is all too familiar with.
“I love you,” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and rough with his emotions. He mumbles the words against Seokmin’s mouth, so afraid to pull away, in fear that if he lets Seokmin go, he’ll just slip away from him again. “I’m sorry, Seokmin-ah. I’m so sorry. I love you.”
A laugh bubbles up from Seokmin. It’s wet, but it’s such a happy sound. Wonwoo opens his eyes as Seokmin parts from him, looking down at him—Seokmin’s eyes are shining with tears, but there’s that smile on his face. A smile so full of warmth and love and pure Seokmin. Wonwoo wants to drown in it. He wants to curl up and let himself be wrapped up in the warmth that is Lee Seokmin, never to leave him again.
“I forgive you,” Seokmin’s words wash over Wonwoo like a gentle breeze. Wonwoo’s shoulders sag, his body suddenly falling forward as he leans his weight into Seokmin’s body. His arms go around the younger’s waist, just as Seokmin’s arms circle around his neck. “I’ll always forgive you, hyung.”
Wonwoo can’t help the way he cries with relief, squeezing Seokmin tighter in his arms. They stand there on the theatre stage, holding each other in their arms, the final pieces of their puzzle slotting into place. Wonwoo’s heart no longer feels like it’s being squeezed by vines—instead, he feels like something inside him has blossomed. The seed that had been planted within it, all those years ago, blooming with all of the love Wonwoo has—finally being able to give all of it over to the one that holds his heart.
“Darling!” Wonwoo looks up from his desk when Seokmin calls for him, blinking slowly to allow his eyes to readjust to the rest of the room around him. He must still zone out for a couple more seconds, because Seokmin calls for him again, and Wonwoo finally pushes himself away from the desk, standing, in order to head out into the house to find his boyfriend.
“Yes, jagiya?” Wonwoo mumbles as he walks into the living room, adjusting his glasses.
Seokmin, sitting cross legged on the floor, looks up at Wonwoo with a small pout on his face. “I need your help, please.”
Wonwoo chuckles as he takes a look at the papers that are strewn about the floor. He’s careful as he steps around them, trying not to accidentally step on any of them, and moves until he can sit himself down right behind his boyfriend. Seokmin immediately leans back into him, tilting his head back against Wonwoo’s chest, still pouting up at him. Wonwoo can’t really help himself.
He leans forward and down, pressing a kiss to Seokmin’s lips. It’s a little odd feeling at this upside down angle, but kissing Seokmin—no matter how awkward the angle—will always feel nice. Wonwoo settles in comfortably, smiling as he pulls away from the kiss.
Seokmin is looking up at him, a little dazed from the sudden kiss. “Not exactly the kind of help I meant, but I’ll take it.”
Wonwoo laughs, a deep rumble in his chest. Seokmin sits himself back up properly now, leaning forward as he gathers up several of the papers in front of him. They’re sheet music, for various different pieces, and Wonwoo honestly isn’t sure what he’s doing with them. “What do you need help with, baby?”
Seokmin lets out a contented hum, his eyes flickering over the different pieces of paper. “Soonyoung-hyung wants me to play a piece for him to sing to, for his and Jihoon-hyung’s anniversary. We all know that Jihoon-hyung isn’t the biggest fan of huge romantic gestures, but this is their—what, 12 year anniversary? Right?”
“Mhm,” Wonwoo nods, leaning forward until he can hook his chin over Seokmin’s shoulder. “They’ve been together since the end of high school. Sometimes I can’t really believe it. You know, Jihoon-ah used to hate Soonyoung-ah.”
“Really?” Seokmin sounds genuinely surprised, turning his head to look at Wonwoo, eyes wide. “I’d never be able to tell. He loves Soonyoung-hyung!”
Wonwoo chuckles again, wrapping his arms around Seokmin’s waist as he slowly pushes his legs out and under Seokmin’s knees. He’s got his boyfriend wrapped up tightly now, holding him in against his chest. “I know,” he mumbles softly, “You’d never be able to tell now. Neither of us were very used to someone like Soonyoung-ah, though. He was much more outgoing than the two of us combined. We hadn’t particularly wanted to befriend him, honestly.”
Humming softly, Seokmin nods, turning his attention back to the music. He smiles as he does, Wonwoo can feel it. Wonwoo turns his head a bit, adjusting his head until he can push his face into the side of Seokmin’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin. “I’m glad you did, though.”
“Mm?” Wonwoo blinks lazily.
“Befriend Soonyoung-hyung, I mean.” Seokmin carefully sets the papers back down on the floor in front of him. He starts to move around and Wonwoo loosens his hold on his boyfriend, removing himself from his neck and leaning back slightly. Seokmin sits up from the floor onto his knees and turns himself around between Wonwoo’s legs, now facing him. He shuffles forward a bit, before swinging his legs over Wonwoo’s and sitting himself down directly on Wonwoo’s lap.
Wonwoo’s legs cross underneath Seokmin’s weight, his arms circling and tightening around his waist once more. Seokmin smiles down at him, letting his hands come to rest against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo lets one of his hands wander up his boyfriend’s back, keeping him close. “Why are you glad about that, hm?”
Seokmin watches him briefly—his boyfriend’s eyes are calm, mirth and happiness shining in his pupils. “Because,” he starts slowly, his head moving forward until their foreheads press together. “If you hadn’t become friends with Soonyoung-hyung, we never would have gotten to confess.”
Those words confuse Wonwoo at first. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks about Seokmin’s words, running through the timeline of events in his head—before he suddenly bursts out into laughter. He throws his head back, shaking it slightly, before leaning in and pressing his face against Seokmin’s shoulder. He can feel his boyfriend laughing with him, the slight shake in his shoulders being a dead giveaway.
“Please never tell him that you’re giving him credit for us getting together,” Wonwoo says, still laughing under his breath. “His ego will become absolutely unrestrainable at that point.”
Seokmin grins, all beautiful teeth, his eyes disappearing as his dimples deepen. He’s still giggling slightly as he leans forward to kiss Wonwoo, both of them smiling against each other’s mouths. Wonwoo’s chest is warm with affection, seeping down into his bones. He could drown in Seokmin’s warmth, he thinks. There’s no better way to go, Wonwoo believes that now.
Even after being together for two years, the flower that had bloomed in Wonwoo’s heart has never wilted. If anything, it’s only grown stronger—Seokmin’s own love is the sunlight that keeps the flower in Wonwoo’s chest alive. It bathes in the warm love and affection that Seokmin gives him, soaking up every single drop that it can get. No longer does Wonwoo feel as though he’s floating on the sea alone, boat constantly moments away from tipping. Now he feels grounded, surrounded by nothing but sunshine and flora and beauty. He’s no longer alone, either. Seokmin is there with him, holding his hand, ready to catch him if he falls, or to go down with him at the same time. Any tumble Wonwoo takes, Seokmin takes with him. Any mistake Wonwoo makes, Seokmin is there to help him work through it.
There is no better place for him to be, Wonwoo thinks, gazing up at his boyfriend’s lovely face, than in Seokmin’s arms.