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The wine Joshua picked out for dinner reminds him of Seungcheol. It’s a dark red with a fancy French title Jeonghan isn’t even going to attempt to pronounce. Jeonghan takes the first sip, the flavor strong enough to coat his whole mouth, and thinks of Seungcheol at once. Rich, heady, strong. Seungcheol wouldn't enjoy it. He'd make a face once he drank it, probably squint so hard he'd go cross-eyed. If they were with company, he’d drink it to be polite. If it was just the two of them, he’d whine about how he rather be drinking their favorite beer and make Jeonghan drink the rest even though he has a stronger alcohol tolerance.
“You don’t like it?” Joshua asks once too much time has passed and Jeonghan still hasn’t said anything. He blinks out of his Seungcheol induced fog, and offers a close-lipped smile.
“Not at all,” he replies.
Jeonghan drains the whole glass. Then he asks the waiter for the stupid fancy French name so that he can painstakingly type it into his phone to buy for Seungcheol later. He ignores Joshua’s knowing gaze.
For a long time, Jeonghan thinks himself as a transient person. Coming and going in people’s lives, floating along. A temporary presence.. People are easy to deal with when clear lines are drawn around them. He doesn’t enjoy the messiness that comes with emotions from close proximity. Disappointment, or heartache. So he rather not linger long enough to let it happen. It’s easier this way.
Then, without him realizing, Choi Seungcheol decides he’s going to settle down next to him.
“When we’re old men,” Seungcheol announces loudly at their class reunion, giddy drunk, “we’re gonna have houses in the same neighborhood. So you and I will always get to meet up like this.”
“Silly Cheollie,” Jeonghan says. He ducks his head so that Seungcheol can’t see him smile.
There was never a chance to draw a line between him and Seungcheol. Seungcheol has always been there. Too close to push away.
“Our heater is broken again,” Seungkwan complains in the doorway of Jeonghan’s room, bundled up in a big coat and a scarf. Jeonghan is sure they both belong to Hansol.
Jeonghan’s aware. It’s why he hasn’t left bed all day, even if he would be warmer if he got up to go anywhere else. “Maybe the ghosts broke it,” he suggests. "They're always in a foul mood in the winter."
Seungkwan scowls. “Don’t you start with that. Hyung, please call the landlord… or a handyman. I’m going out!”
Jeonghan isn’t going to do that. As soon as his roommate leaves, he opens up the groupchat that has all thirteen of them, arguably the busiest one, and sends several messages:
the ghosts broke our heater kekekekeke
seungkwannie and i are going to freeze kekekeke
Seungkwan responds in outrage I TOLD YOU TO CALL OUR LANDLORD while Hansol offers him to stay at his place in front of everyone. Soonyoung sends a GIF of two cats playing in the snow and Junhui politely links several local handymans. Jeonghan skims every message, waiting.
Seungcheol doesn’t even say anything. He’s there in half an hour with his brother’s toolbox. He pokes his head in Jeonghan’s room. Jeonghan waggles his fingers in greeting. Seungcheol sighs. “You two really have to move out. How many times has this happened?”
Jeonghan pretends to look behind Seungcheol, looking for his older brother. “You didn’t bring hyung? He’s better at this than you.”
Seungcheol scowls and gets it fixed in record time. Jeonghan orders lunch from his favorite noodle place as is tradition. Seungcheol fixes something, so Jeonghan feeds him. He watches Seungcheol eat, idly scheming on how he can get Seungcheol into bed to cuddle. There is no need to scheme - Seungcheol crawls under the sheets after he’s finished, cheeks flushed rosy. “You’re warm?” he asks. Always considerate, always checking in.
Jeonghan wraps one leg around Seungcheol’s hip to tug him closer. “I’m warm.”
Later in the afternoon, the landlord drops by. At Seungkwan’s request apparently. “Oh,” he says, peering into Jeonghan’s room. Seungcheol is fast asleep, face buried against Jeonghan’s stomach. “Your boyfriend fixed it already?”
Jeonghan shrugs, resting a hand atop Seungcheol's head. His hair is getting long.
Seungcheol is not a boyfriend. Seungcheol is Seungcheol.
It was simpler when they were younger. Jeonghan had less shame then, content to let any handsome boy or pretty girl flirt with him. If they wanted to buy him drinks and do what he asked, that was all the sweeter. For a long time Seungcheol was part of that crowd, the prettiest boy Jeonghan knew. The kindest too. Jeonghan hadn’t felt any guilt for teasing him and Seungcheol never backed down from it either.
In the end, it had been only him that persisted while the rest got tired of Jeonghan. Realizing beyond his face that there was nothing much to stay for.
Maybe that makes Seungcheol a fool. That’s how Jeonghan likes to see it anyways, when the years pass by and Seungcheol still sticks around, the heart of the little group of people Jeonghan collects. There are friends who have known them longer, and better. But there’s no one like Seungcheol.
“I don’t have a friend like you,” Seungcheol’s said before. “Jeonghannie’s special.”
“Dummy,” Jeonghan says back. Better to call him a fool than to call it what it really is.
What it really is, is all the things Jeonghan knows.
The way Seungcheol wakes up in the morning, bleary-eyed and bear-like with how slumber lingers to him. The different voices Seungcheol uses for the people he loves, the bratty baby for his older brother and the warm mentor for his dongsaengs at work. The real, tender-soft center of his heart, more sensitive than he wants most people to see.
What it really is, is all the things Jeonghan gets to have.
Seungcheol’s hands warming his whenever Jeonghan forgets his gloves on cold nights. Seungcheol’s exasperated fond smile from across the table when Jeonghan requests him to cook his meat. Seungcheol’s smell surrounding him in the clothes he lets Jeonghan borrow when he sleeps over.
The sweet, tender glow of Seungcheol’s affection.
In the summer, Seungcheol gets into a small accident. He keeps using the word small, but when Jeonghan gets to the hospital, Seungcheol’s leg is in a cast. The sight of it makes him want to throw up.
As soon as he’s able, Jeonghan packs a bunch of things in a duffle, and practically moves in. There’s really no need to, especially since Seungcheol has his brother to help. Jeonghan isn’t the nurturing type either. He tries to recreate his mother’s jjigae recipe since Seungcheol likes it so much, and burns it. He upsets Kkuma when he takes her out for a walk because apparently he chose a route with smells she hates. He nearly stumbles under Seungcheol’s weight when he helps pull him out of bed because Seungcheol has twice the muscle mass, stupid man.
Seungcheol doesn’t complain. Not once. Not even when Jeonghan drops his crutches under his bed when he needs to use the bathroom, snickering as Jeonghan struggles to pull them out in time.
“You’re laughing,” Jeonghan says flatly after the most stressful five minutes of his life. “You almost pissed your pants and you’re laughing.”
“Jeonghannie would’ve cleaned me up.” Seungcheol continues to laugh. It’s not good form to throw things at injured people, but Jeonghan is sorely tempted.
His mother ends up coming herself to bring Seungcheol jjigae . Five years ago this would’ve made Jeonghan feel cagey enough to avoid Seungcheol for a good two weeks. Back then he always got self-conscious whenever someone pointed out how intersected their lives were. Putting distance was his way of getting control again.
Now, he’s eating his mother’s jjigae at Seungcheol’s table. Snapping a picture of Seungcheol’s satisfied face to send to his sister. Well aware of what it looks like.
There was a time when Jeonghan was deliberately cruel. Leaving Seungcheol on read on all messaging platforms, going to things Seungcheol invited him to with other people. Seungcheol would ignore him for a day or two, nursing his wounds, but he always came back around.
Seungcheol called him beautiful once, carding his fingers through Jeonghan’s long hair, looking deep into his eyes. Jeonghan went and got it cut short the very next day.
The dread in his stomach at seeing the hurt in Seungcheol’s eyes, the hurt that Jeonghan caused, made him sick. He still couldn’t decide if it was worse than the flutter in his chest that emerged whenever Seungcheol looked at him with love.
“Are you ever going to put him out of his misery?”
Jihoon wouldn’t say anything so crude and blunt without a reason. It’s Seungcheol’s birthday, and they’re celebrating it in the usual way: drinks at his place. Seungcheol has been extra clingy and extra drunk, coming over to Jeonghan frequently for head-pats and hugs, burying his hot face in the crook of Jeonghan’s neck. Jeonghan hasn’t drunk very much tonight in comparison, but he feels intoxicated from Seungcheol’s burning touch. Jihoon’s been watching them from his corner, one hundred percent sober, and when Seungcheol releases Jeonghan to bother another friend, he spits out the words like poison.
Jeonghan freezes.
Over the years, their friends have had a lot to say about the two of them. Jeonghan is good at evading their questions or laughing it off. There’s no laughing at what Jihoon’s said. Jeonghan looks at him, speechless, and Jihoon must see something wretched in his expression because he softens with guilt at once. “Hyung - sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
Jihoon, who’s known Seungcheol for so long, who’s watched Seungcheol with Jeonghan for so many years, that maybe it should be Jeonghan who apologizes. For not treating the hyung Jihoon treasures well enough. There are too many things to apologize for.
“Let’s take out the cake hmm?” is what he says instead.
At the end of the night when everyone else has either gone home out or passed out on the floor, Jeonghan grabs hold of Seungcheol’s ruddy cheeks, shaking him slightly. He’s so warm in Jeonghan’s hands, so precious. Are you in misery, Jeonghan wants to ask. Because of me? “Are you happy, Seungcheol-ah?”
Seungcheol beams at him. “I’m happy, Jeonghannie. Thank you.”
Something fragile inside Jeonghan shatters.
The truth is pathetic in how simple it is: that Jeonghan is afraid. Afraid that if he lets Seungcheol in any closer, all that will be left is for Seungcheol to leave. Even though he knows that Seungcheol has looked at him as he is, without any masks, and decided to stay, he’s afraid Seungcheol got it wrong. That the minute Jeonghan lets down the last barrier he will finally see Jeonghan for what he really is, wise up, and leave.
Jeonghan can’t risk that. Seungcheol is entrenched in everything in his life. The streets he walks, the toothpaste he buys. It all has a memory directly connected to Seungcheol. Mundane, exciting, happy, sad. Everything.
He can take all of Seungcheol’s love and devotion. Even his hate, if it came down to it. But Jeonghan can’t bear to have Seungcheol leave him. It’s the one thing he won’t risk.
let’s get dinner as soon as you’re back, Seungcheol had texted while Jeonghan was out of the country. It was one of many texts from Seungcheol, Jeonghan hadn’t been able to respond to them all. He doesn’t bother telling Seungcheol that he’s back, going straight to his place from Incheon instead. One of these days, he will buy Seungcheol’s brother a nice massage for all the trouble.
“Hello~ Seungcheollieee~” he calls into the living room. Kkuma barks, scurrying up to him, sniffing him suspiciously, and then escaping once she realizes it’s him. Seungcheol comes out of the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, grinning that typical gummy-wide smile.
“I could’ve picked you up!” he says.
He could have. He would have. He will, in the future. Jeonghan hums, lifting up the pretty gift-bag he’d paid too much at the airport because he wanted to put the stupid fancy French wine in it. A proper present. “I wanted to be back for dinner. I brought wine - it made me think of you.”
Seungcheol brightens. “You thought of me?”
“Yes,” Jeonghan says. Always.