Work Text:
2017
DECEMBER
Jeonghan is being a big baby. He’s aware, thank you very much.
He may be on the cusp of graduation, the very edge of adulthood, nearly at the finish line, ready to sell his soul to the corporate world and things like rent and water bills, but right now, he will allow himself just this; the very luxury of whining, and complaining, and being—downright childish. Just this once.
“It’ll only be like, a month. Winter break, that’s it.”
“Only.” Jeonghan scoffs. He rolls over in the cramped twin bed so he’s directly on top of Joshua now. Which is nice. Joshua is warm. Sturdy. “Do you hear yourself? Is this your way of telling me you don’t actually like me? A month, Shua.”
Joshua snorts out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he attempts to shove Jeonghan back into his own space. He’s not successful, considering there wasn’t much of his own space to begin with. One of the only perks of the tiny, college issued bed he is destined to own; little to no personal space when it comes to squeezing in with his hot boyfriend.
“I was back home for the entirety of the Summer and we survived,” Joshua reminds him. He reaches out to poke at Jeonghan’s face, tips of his fingers prodding into Jeonghan’s cheekbone. He brings his thumb over to pinch at the skin there, too. “It’s even less time now.”
“Yeah, and I almost died then,” Jeonghan exaggerates. Joshua slides his fingers over Jeonghan’s bottom lip and Jeonghan tries to bite him. “If not from lack of you, then because Seungcheolie nearly throttled me. He was so sick of me. I’m so whiny and awful without you.”
“I know you are,” Joshua says, smiling, like this is funny, like the very idea of Jeonghan being a goddamn mess without him makes him happiest. He pushes the bangs from Jeonghan’s face, and for a second, Jeonghan thinks Joshua might kiss him, but he doesn’t, not yet at least. Woe is him. “But distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” Jeonghan repeats with a sigh, defeated, and Joshua still hasn’t kissed him so he rolls onto his back again, staring up at the chipped, beige paint of the ceiling. “You know I’ll also be missing your birthday? And it’s your first birthday that we’re together-together. Isn’t that like, supposed to be a big deal?”
“Birthdays don’t have to be a big deal,” Joshua counters. “It’s sort of just a day.”
“They should be a big deal when they’re yours,” Jeonghan argues. “Everything about you should be a big deal. In like, a charming, subtle way, obviously, but still.”
“Ok, sure,” Joshua says. He laughs. “We can celebrate when I get back, if it's so dire.”
“That’s forever away.” Jeonghan groans because he’s dramatic. “And I’m just so bored when you’re not here. No one to eat lunch with. No one to show me really bad American movies. No one to make fun of Soonyoungie with.”
“Poor baby,” Joshua teases, and now he kisses Jeonghan’s cheek, so Jeonghan lets the vague evilness slide. “We can still talk everyday.”
“Not the same,” Jeonghan insists, and then Joshua kisses him one more, his cheek, and then his jaw, and then he shifts so their legs are tangled together, and—ah, what was Jeonghan saying again? “No one to—hmf. Now you’re making it worse. I wasn’t even thinking about how horny I was going to be. Cancel the break, oh my god.”
“Poor baby,” Joshua echoes, even meaner this time, but his smile is even sweeter, and unfortunately, Jeonghan really loves it. He kisses Jeonghan on the lips this time, nice and slow, just barely any tongue, but enough to make Jeonghan feel a little crazy, to like, need it.
He shifts again, this time so he’s completely in Jeonghan’s lap, connecting their lips before he sits up, Jeonghan’s hands immediately going to his thighs, like some kinda perverted magnet.
“When is Seungcheol coming back?” Joshua asks next. Devious. Plotting. Jeonghan’s favorite kind of Joshua, if he’s being honest, though they’re all his favorite, he supposes, because there’s no one else like Joshua, really.
“Not for a while,” Jeonghan says. Even if his roommate was coming back soon, he would still find a way to lock him out. He would sooner die than let Seungcheol get in the way of Joshua Hong and whatever plans he has for him and Jeonghan’s dick. “He’s finishing a final presentation at the library. He’ll be there for hours, Shua-yah. It’s for his literature class. So many big words.”
Jeonghan slides his hands under Joshua’s shirt, greedy fingers scaling up the lean muscle of his torso, digging into his ribs just a little. Joshua recently got a tattoo there—his second one, because the other one is right on his bicep and sometimes Jeonghan fantasizes about it being the last thing he sees before Joshua kinda crushes him with said bicep—but Jeonghan’s grown very fond of this one, too, likes to touch with his hands and his mouth, and like, however else Joshua might let him.
“Cold,” Joshua whines, and he’s talking about Jeonghan’s hands, Jeonghan knows because he always is, so he yanks them out of his shirt and plants them on either side of Jeonghan’s head instead, pinned into the mattress. “You need to run your hands under hot water for like, a solid forty seconds if you think you’re gonna fingerbang me with those.”
“Geez, Shua, take me out to dinner first.”
“Yah, Yoon Jeonghan.” Joshua narrows his eyes. Jeonghan feels his entire skin tingle with want, with need, with like—real, actual love, which is sort of scary considering he hasn’t said that part out loud yet. He was thinking after the new year. Maybe by March, the latest, because feelings can be overwhelming sometimes. Now, though— “If you’re good, I have something for you. Something to give you. Later.”
“Something on top of all this?” Jeonghan tilts his head a little, or at least tries to against the mound of pillows he’s smushed into, but he makes it very obvious when he flicks his eyes down Joshua’s body so Joshua knows for sure what he’s talking about. “My birthday was two months ago.”
“Which makes me wonder why I continue to do nice things for you,” Joshua says, huffs, like he’s really all annoyed, and it makes Jeonghan want him more. He leans down to kiss him again, just the right amount of tongue now, and Jeonghan actually moans. “Now,” Joshua pulls away, “don’t touch until I say so, ‘kay?”
* * *
Despite what popular opinion might think, Jeonghan is a good listener—if only when it comes to Joshua, and only sometimes, maybe—so it’s a few days later, just before Joshua hightails it back to Los Angeles with a ride to the airport in Wonwoo’s dad’s car, that Jeonghan gets his very well deserved reward.
“Text me,” Joshua says, an order, really, one that Jeonghan was going to follow regardless if he said it or not.
“Obviously,” Jeonghan says with a scoff. He rolls his eyes. “Shua, baby, I am going to text you every waking moment of the day. You’re actually gonna wish you never asked me to. Hell, you’re lucky my dad doesn’t wanna pay for international calls. I would never stop bothering you.”
Joshua laughs, eyes pushed into pretty crescents. Sweetly, he says, “I would get a restraining order.”
“Aw,” Junhui coos from behind them, hanging out the passenger seat of Wonwoo’s car, “that’s so romantic.”
“Not a conversation for you, Moon Jun!”
“That’d be more obvious if you guys just said goodbye already,” he argues. He sits back into the car properly, pulling out his phone to busy himself on. “We’re both going to miss our flights.”
Joshua turns around to give him what Jeonghan can only assume is a death glare, one that Junhui doesn’t see, still to preoccupied with his phone. “Jun-ah,” is all he says, and to his credit Junhui does hold his hands up, silently letting Joshua win, and he sinks further back into his seat.
“He’s right, anyway,” Jeonghan admits, painfully, but. “You should go.”
“I should,” Joshua agrees with a sigh, and Jeonghan is half listening to Junhui and Wonwoo now bickering about the radio behind them before Joshua takes a step closer, and suddenly Jeonghan isn’t really aware of anything at all that isn’t Joshua, Joshua, Joshua.
Maybe Jihoon should be here. Talk some sense into him. At least shame him into a little good, old fashioned embarrassment. Jihoon is good at that.
Because right now, Joshua Hong is going back home for only a few weeks, and it will be the most painful few weeks of Jeonghan’s life, and Jeonghan was never like this, not as mushy or soft until now, until Joshua, but he can’t really imagine it any other way. Can’t imagine him and Joshua any other way.
As soon as he gets back, Jeonghan mentally decides. He’ll tell Joshua he loves him then. It’s been nine whole months of their relationship, anyway—that’s enough, isn’t it?
“Hey.” Joshua’s voice is lower now, gets a little sticky around the edges, the kinda voice Jeonghan knows well. The kind that he usually uses only when it’s just the two of them, behind closed doors, or tucked away in corners of crowded parties, the kind he uses when he wants Jeonghan all gooey and stupid and his. “Remember the other day? When I said I’d give you something if you were good?”
“Yes,” Jeonghan says. He remembers it very well. Because he made Joshua come two separate times, and then ordered and paid for takeout all before Seungcheol got home and could even suspect anything. “And if I remember correctly, I was like, super good. Really good. Like those little, tiny dogs ladies carry around in their handbags.”
“Ok, relax,” Joshua says with a laugh, and then he reaches into the pocket of his sweatshirt (Jeonghan’s sweatshirt, actually, but he doesn’t say anything because Jeonghan likes the fact that Joshua chose that one to wear home, to take a piece of Jeonghan all the way back to California), and carefully pulls out an envelope, nondescript, bland, just ‘정한 :)’ written neatly across the front.
“What is this?” Jeonghan says when Joshua hands it to him without much else explanation. “Are you serving me?”
“No.” Joshua rolls his eyes. “It’s—”
“You do know international flights require you to be there like, at least ten minutes before you board, right?” Wonwoo interrupts. Because he thinks he’s funny.
Jeonghan turns to give him a glare, looks right past where Junhui is now sitting with his legs kicked up, still scrolling on his phone, and Wonwoo just shrugs.
“We’re almost done,” Jeonghan insists. “This is the last time we ask you for a favor.”
Wonwoo laughs, short, and loud, and annoying. “Thank god,” he says, and Jeonghan turns back to Joshua in favor of shutting Wonwoo out.
“Just—open it when you’re alone,” Joshua says to him quickly. He side eyes the car, Wonwoo and Junhui back to arguing over who gets aux. Junhui is trying to convince him to listen to his ballads or he’ll never suck Wonwoo’s dick again, and Jeonghan is fairly certain the threat is convincing enough for Wonwoo to let him win. Good for you, Moon Jun, he thinks, stick it to him. “And like, not so soon.”
“What?” Jeonghan frowns, however, taking the envelope, playing with the tape that seals it. “I’m scared.”
“Good.” Joshua laughs, bright and bubbly. “But seriously don’t open it around other people. I had to—get creative. Because, um. Well, we aren’t gonna see each other for a while, you’re right, and you were having those… cloud issues with your phone recently, and your sister was getting your photos and you were getting hers and—”
Oh, it clicks then, holy shit.
Jeonghan laughs, giddy, in actual disbelief. “Hong Jisoo!” he sings.
“Shut up, I’m serious,” Joshua shoves him. He grabs his bag, securing it over his shoulder, backing towards Wonwoo’s car. “It was embarrassing enough having to take those, and now you’re gonna—”
“Gonna treasure them with my life, yes,” Jeonghan finishes, though he’s certain that’s not what Joshua was going to say. “Yah, where are you going, you didn’t even give me a proper goodbye!”
“We’re gonna miss our flights,” Joshua says, tugging the door open to the car, Wonwoo and Junhui still arguing up front. “Junnie won’t be able to go home and see his mom. You wanna deny him of seeing his mother?”
“God, you’re annoying,” Jeonghan tells him, like it’s something to really marvel at, meeting him at the door, leaning up against it in case Joshua tries to shut him out or something. He frowns a little. “Miss you.”
“I’m still here,” Joshua points out. He grins. “I’ll miss you back.”
“Have a safe flight,” Jeonghan says. He glances at the front seat. “You too, Junnie.”
“Thanks,” Junhui says. He turns around to look at Jeonghan. “Where’s my I miss you, by the way?”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Ask your own boyfriend,” he says, and then he shuts the door, leaning over into the open window before Joshua can roll it up, because Jeonghan knows he’d do that, too. “Hey.”
“What?”
And it’s silly the way it happens. Because Jeonghan is twenty-two, on the cusp of real freedom, adulthood, life, and he decides right then and there that he sort of wants to spend it all with Joshua Hong, thinks it might be in both their best interests if he did, actually. So fuck next month when Joshua comes back, fuck March for sure—
“I love you,” Jeonghan says. Easily.
Joshua just smiles. Hardly even looks surprised, but instead like he was waiting for this, like he already knew. “I love you back,” he says. Just as easily.
“Wait,” Wonwoo pipes up from the front, giving Junhui a look like he kinda wants to laugh, but isn’t sure if it’d be entirely appropriate, “don’t tell me that was the first time you—”
“We’re gonna miss our flights, Jeon Wonwoo,” Joshua tells him. He huffs, sitting back before he kicks at the back of Wonwoo’s seat. “You would deny Junnie of missing his flight, of not seeing his own mother—”
“I hate you,” Wonwoo says, just over the sound of Junhui’s laughter. “I am absolutely not on airport duty again. I don’t care if I’m the only one with a car. I don’t care!”
“See you, Yoon Jeonghan.” Joshua waves, ignoring Wonwoo’s little outburst, letting Jeonghan back away from the curb, sad, but also—a little bit like his entire body is buzzing. Joshua Hong loves him. For real.
“You will,” Jeonghan says, waves back, and then he watches the car pull off, and Joshua doesn’t have to look back to make sure Jeonghan is still standing there, he already knows.
So Jeonghan tells Joshua Hong he loves him when he’s twenty-two, on the cusp of forever, with a pocket full of—his boyfriend’s nudes. Which is actually quite romantic, if you ask him.
There’s no one else like Joshua, really.
—
PRESENT DAY
JUNE
Jeonghan feels a dull ache in his skull, steady, a thump, thump, thumping against it. The tell tale signs of a nasty headache, gearing up to be full force. Which is only like, the fifth one this week, but hey, who’s counting? It’s only Wednesday. He’s only a beautifully, ripe thirty-years-old. This is fine. Everything is fine.
“You don’t look fine,” Mingyu says, not at all helpful, frowning a bit from where he tries to conceal himself behind his laptop. Which is fruitless, considering Mingyu is about the size of two doorways combined, but whatever. “If you’re not feeling well, you should go home. I can finish up this project proposal for us. The nitty-gritty is already done!”
“No, I really am fine,” Jeonghan insists, though he’s sort of not, not really, but like—he’s been worse, so that makes him fine by default. “Besides, last time I left you alone with a presentation, you went fucking apeshit with the slide transitions. Had possible loss margins flying in with sound effects. It was insane.”
“It had character and whimsy,” Mingyu argues, petulant. “In any case, this is like, your tenth time staying late this month. Didn’t you say Shua hyung would cut your dick off if you did it again?”
“He wouldn’t actually,” Jeonghan says with a wave of his hand. “Joshua is all bark and no bite.”
Joshua did say that, for the record, among other empty threats throughout all the years they’ve been together—like, Yoon Jeonghan, I am going to smother you in your sleep, or Yoon Jeonghan, I am going to put your ant farm up for sale on FaceBook Marketplace—but he never actually does any of those things, because he loves Jeonghan, very, very much, and love is like, about sacrifice, Jeonghan is pretty sure.
Which sometimes means sacrificing—being home, in his apartment with his aforementioned boyfriend to be here, at work, busting his ass on the latest marketing proposal because six months ago his manager promised a promotion on the horizon, and now Jeonghan just has to perform, just has to reach those goals they set for it, and then he can go back to being himself, can sleep at normal times, and actually make it home for dinner, and can fuck Joshua on a random Tuesday for the hell of it, and not like, get too tired halfway through or whatever.
“Anyway,” Jeonghan continues, “Shua understands this is important. Not just for me, but for both of us and like, our future. You wouldn’t get it. The closest thing you have to a relationship is Myungho when mercury is in retrograde or whatever. Butt out.”
“For the record, Myungho and I are just friends, and mercury has nothing to do with us,” Mingyu says, very resolutely, but Jeonghan just ignores him, ducking back behind his laptop to pull up a few emails from the PR team he had been previously dealing with. Mingyu continues, “You should call him at least. Let him know you’ll be eating bread crust off the street like a stray cat again or something. Or don’t. I don’t care. You can’t say I’m not a good friend, Jeonghan-ssi.”
He has a point—about calling Joshua, that is, because everything else Mingyu just said was sort of a load of BS—but he should call Joshua, because the last time they spoke it was around lunchtime, and that was before Jeonghan had gotten word they needed this proposal done by tomorrow, so he had told Joshua he’d be home at a normal time, and Joshua had sent him a heart and said take that capitalism, and now Jeonghan kinda feels like the worst.
He digresses. Kinda.
“Ok, I’m taking five,” Jeonghan decides then. He pushes away from his desk, grabs his phone, and gives Mingyu a very stern look. “If I come back and you have added whoosh sounds to this, I will make you wish you were never born.”
“You hate me and you hate having fun,” Mingyu concludes. He sighs, but pulls out his own phone, slumping down in his chair. A five for both of them, Jeonghan guesses. “Good luck with hyungie.”
Jeonghan hums, fights the urge to remind Mingyu he doesn’t need it, and then heads out to the hall, mentally deciding if it’s worth it to go down to the lobby for this, or if he should just park himself in one of the conference rooms and pray that maybe a light fixture falls on him and he doesn’t have to be here anymore.
He goes with the latter. Sure, the all glass windows in here aren’t really ideal for any sort of privacy, but he will be quick, Joshua is understanding. Plus, he’s fairly certain Mingyu and he are the only two people left. The only two chumps.
The phone rings twice before Joshua picks up: “Hi, pretty,” he says. Then, “I’m gonna go out on a whim and say this means you’re staying late again?”
“Yah,” Jeonghan mumbles weakly, and then fixes the gaze at the light hanging from the ceiling and squints at it. Really tries to concentrate to get it to fall. “Can’t I just call my beautiful boyfriend? Who I love so much? Who always supports me and is so considerate and caring and—”
“Yoon Jeonghan.”
“Ok, fine,” he says. “Yeah. It was a last minute thing with the latest brand we’re trying to partner with. They want our strategy finalized by tomorrow instead of next week, and my boss put me on it, and now my brain feels like it might come out of my head, and I’m stuck with Mingyu, and he’s gonna add insane transitions to our presentation if I don’t stay. It’s a whole thing.”
“I’m sure,” Joshua says, humming. “Well, as long as you come home with your brain still inside your head or whatever. Tell Mingyu I said hi, by the way. And that he still owes me for that pack of drunk cigarettes he made me buy him last weekend that he did not actually smoke.”
“He’s saving them for a rainy day.”
Joshua hums again, just before there’s some rustling on the line, like he’s rifling through something, distracted. “I guess you won’t be here when Hansolie comes over, no?”
“Fuck, I totally forgot.” Jeonghan groans, slumping down in the uncomfortable conference chair. Because it’s not that serious, but still, he should remember these things, he should be more like, actually present in his life. “No, I’m sorry. I’m the worst.”
“You’re not,” Joshua assures him. A saint, truly. Once Jeonghan finally makes that promotion he is so taking Joshua on like, an all expenses paid vacation to somewhere warm. He’d kill to see Joshua in a bathing suit right now. He’d kill to see Joshua in anything at all, but. “I’m trying to find the box you said you had, though. Did you know your closet is kind of a mess?”
“It’s on my list,” Jeonghan says passively. With the vacation, and the promotion, and like, everything else in his life, yeah. “The box is on the bottom—left? Maybe? It has a bunch of cartoon rabbits on it. They’re surfing.”
“Charming,” Joshua says. Then, a little clearer, “I found it.”
“Yay,” Jeonghan deadpans. “What would Wonwoo have done without my shitty collection of pictures from college? Actually, I’m a little scared to even know what’s in there. Does he really need them? I’m sure Moon Jun’s birthday could go on without them.”
“Moon Jun and Soonyoungie’s birthday, don’t you fucking forget,” Joshua corrects, because Wonwoo was throwing this party for Junhui first, because thirty is kind of a big deal, and then Junhui found out about it, guilted Wonwoo into making it about Soonyoung, too (something about an unbreakable Gemini bond), and so now they’re all involved, it blew way out of proportion.
“Sorry,” Jeonghan laughs, “and Soonyoungie. But like, seriously?”
“It’s supposed to be the biggest party of the century, Jeonghan-ah,” Joshua says, but he’s got the slightest tilt to his voice, so Jeonghan knows he’s sort of making fun, knows he’s just repeating back what Wonwoo’s been stressing ever since he started planning this party for Junhui like, last month. For Junhui and Soonyoung, obviously. “Thirty is massive. Thirty requires an ice luge and a constant slideshow of photos from the entirety of your life. Obviously.”
“Right.” Jeonghan huffs. “Anyway, sorry I’m missing Hansol, but I’m sure he doesn’t wanna really be there, in the first place, so.”
“Roped in for errands by Seungkwannie, yeah,” Joshua confirms. He laughs. “Ok, I’ll let you go. Are you feeling alright, at least?”
He’s not, not really, but Joshua will worry if he says otherwise, and he’s just tired, it’s just a headache, it’s just—work, work, and more work, constantly. He’ll be fine. Seriously.
“Peachy,” he says, solely because he wants to hear Joshua laugh, or give him an agitated little groan in response, and thankfully, he gets both. “I’ll be home sooner than later.”
“Or else I’m cutting off your dick, seriously.”
“What a way with words you have, baby,” Jeonghan coos. All bark and no bite; he knows. “I love you.”
“I know,” Joshua says. Annoying. “I love you back.”
Luckily.
* * *
Jeonghan ends up getting home later rather than sooner, probably, but Joshua still doesn’t say anything, nothing more than a yah, Yoon Jeonghan, I have a personal vendetta against your boss right now, but he looks especially pleased when Jeonghan laughs at that, so he knows it’s a joke, knows Joshua is just happy he’s home.
And love is about sacrifice, Jeonghan meant it when he said it before, so sometimes that means sacrificing time together to be a cog in the corporate machine way past the hours you should be, and sometimes that also means fooling around with your boyfriend even though you should very well be asleep, even though you will most likely be exhausted tomorrow.
Some sacrifices are far more worth it over others, though.
“I didn’t even ask you about work,” Jeonghan mumbles into Joshua’s mouth, because he can multitask, he does it frequently to be honest, even when it’s probably not the most sexy. Or well, it’s sexy to Jeonghan, at least, because anything involving Joshua is automatically sexy, he could listen to Joshua read the air fryer instruction manual or something, and he’d probably still get hard. “How was work?”
“Usual, boring,” Joshua manages, just before Jeonghan sticks his tongue in his mouth, drawing out a noise from deep within Joshua’s chest, so sweet. He pulls away to scale his lips down Joshua’s neck instead, and Joshua sighs, threading long fingers through Jeonghan’s hair as he adds, “Can we not talk about work, though? Like, any work.”
“Good with me,” Jeonghan says. He pushes Joshua’s shirt up, hands sliding up to his chest to give Joshua a self serving squeeze. Joshua doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t roll his eyes or shy away in embarrassment any more, not like he always used to when Jeonghan would touch him there. He kisses his mouth again in reward. “God, you’re pretty.”
Joshua hums, pleased, pulling Jeonghan closer for another kiss before he shoves him back down, lets him push his shirt up further, and attaches his mouth there instead.
“That’s better,” Joshua says, blissed out, perfect, and Jeonghan is seriously glad Joshua is not actually going to ever cut his dick off, because he kinda needs it. Especially now.
“Shua-yah,” Jeonghan says, presses a few more open mouthed kisses somewhere along his abdomen and then leans up, expectant, waiting, wanting. Joshua glances down at him. “How tired are you?”
“Average person tired,” Joshua says confidently. His lips are swollen and his shirt is half on and he’s the prettiest person Jeonghan has ever seen, he loves him, he’s so in love with him. “Because I work a normal job. The better question is how tired are you?”
Jeonghan frowns. “You just said no talking about work.”
“That was before you got—ideas.” Joshua clicks his tongue, smiling just the tiniest bit. “What do you want, hm?”
“What do I want?” Jeonghan repeats, because the question is a bit ridiculous, it doesn’t have just one answer, certainly not a short answer, not one built for Wednesday nights at a quarter to midnight with Joshua in front of him all to himself. “Everything with you. Take this off to start?”
“God, you’re cheesy,” Joshua mumbles, like he’s not smiling, like he doesn’t love cheesy, but he tugs his shirt over his head at Jeonghan’s request, and properly schools his smile when he emerges from the shirt again, has to play it cool, of course. He’s still sitting up when he slides a hand over Jeonghan’s thigh, squeezes through his sweats. “Want my mouth?”
“Whatever you’ll give me,” Jeonghan says, means it, because Joshua really is too good to him, he always is. He pushes Joshua back into the mattress first, kisses him once, then twice. “After I take some more time with you.”
And so it goes like that, a kiss, a bite, a lick, a perfectly executed roll of their hips, for what feels like forever. Forever is never enough with Joshua, though, Jeonghan feels like he’s been chasing forever since he was twenty-something-years old, since he first met Joshua, first made things official with him. There’s never nearly enough time in the day. Never nearly enough time to make sure Joshua knows how much he cares about him, to show him, to let him feel it.
There used to be more time, at least. Jeonghan always misses when there was more time. That was back when they were still in college, newly out of college even, back before they both had real jobs, with real demands, and things stopped being so—so about just them, and their little bubble burst, thrown into reality where suddenly, everyone else was in their bubble, too.
Yes, Jeonghan decides then, they are so definitely taking a long vacation once he gets that promotion.
For now, though, this is the closest he’ll get to it, to Joshua and him back in his bubble, the way he wants it to be always. He holds Joshua by the jaw, angling his face up so he can mouth at his neck again, and then slides his free hand down, traces over his ribs, over the muscle, subconsciously settling along the tattoo Joshua still has there, still one of Jeonghan’s favorite places, even after nearly almost ten years now.
Ten years. Huh.
It doesn’t feel that long, is the thing. Most days, most times, Jeonghan wakes up and he feels like he’s meeting Joshua all over again, still has those butterflies and the unyielding want, no, need to make him happy, just like he always has. Some days, sometimes, it feels more like ten months, rather than anything else. And Jeonghan knows that’s disgustingly romantic, and he knows he probably is embarrassing, but he loved Joshua then, and he loves Joshua now, and—
“Fuck.”
Jeonghan sits straight up, half on top of Joshua, half hard in his sweats, blood running cold.
It feels, suddenly, like everything is actually moving too fast. Time going at supersonic speed, cruel, mocking, like the universe knows Jeonghan’s just fucked up, like it knows he now has—little time to fix it.
Fuck.
“What’s wrong?” Joshua asks, leaning up on his elbows, eyebrows pulled together in concern. “Are you—did I do something?”
“What? Of course not,” Jeonghan says quickly. He shakes his head but still doesn’t move otherwise, anchored in place on top of Joshua’s thighs, internally debating his next move. Carefully trying to decide what the best way to go about this is. “I just—uh. I remembered something.”
Joshua gives him a look, eyes narrowing. “Something—?”
“About work,” he lies. If he tells Joshua it’s about work, he won’t wanna hear it, anyway. Then, he can call Hansol tomorrow, and he’ll make Hansol promise not to tell Joshua, and he’ll—he can fix this! “Which isn’t important, so let’s just—get back to where we were. Give me your dick.”
“Absolutely not,” Joshua says, pushing his hands away when Jeonghan goes to reach for him, and he squints even harder at Jeonghan, full on frowning now. “Jeonghan-ah. What did you do?”
“What did I do?” Jeonghan repeats. He’s stalling, obviously. “Why would you assume I did something? Why assume I’m lying? I’m not even—”
“Because I know you.” Joshua says, and ok, Jeonghan can’t really argue with that, it’s unfortunate. “Tell me what it is.”
“Ok, ok, yes, that’s fine, I will.” Jeonghan nods. This is fine. It’s no big deal. It’ll be a big deal for like, a second, and then they’ll fix it, and then next week, they’ll laugh about it. Probably. “But you have to promise me you won’t get mad.”
“What?” Joshua’s eyes go wide now and Jeonghan sort of feels like his entire life might actually be in danger. “What did you do?”
“See! This is what I mean,” Jeonghan says lamely. He points a weak, crooked finger in Joshua’s direction. “It’s fixable. Promise me you won’t get mad!”
“You’re making it seem un-fixable,” Joshua tells him, and he sits up all the way now, shoving Jeonghan off him just a little, just enough so they’re eye to eye now. Which is fine, because then Jeonghan can fix Joshua with a look, just one pitiful enough that Joshua agrees, “Ok, fine, I won’t get mad.”
“Pinky promise?”
“Jeonghan-ah.”
“Ok, alright,” Jeonghan gives in, holding his hands up, sucking in a breath. Well. “Remember like, forever ago, when we first started dating and it was like, a break? And I was being the worst because we were gonna be apart, because I liked you so much—I still do, by the way—”
“Jeonghan-ah.”
“I’m getting there, hang on,” Jeonghan assures him. He rubs at his temples like all this is really taking a toll on him, which it kinda is. “Anyway, it was break. So before you went back to LA, you gave me, um. Nudes. They were tasteful. And super hot. You used a polaroid, which is kinda funny in hindsight. Do you remember that?”
It takes Joshua approximately six whole seconds before he answers. His face is blank. Like he couldn’t possibly tell what this has to do with the rest of the story. Still, finally, he says, “Yes.”
“Right.” Jeonghan nods. Rip the bandaid off, he mentally hypes himself up, he’s all bark and no bite, anyway. And so the next part comes out in a rush: “Anyway, I kept them, and I didn’t know how else to like, safely keep them, so they were in a box with the rest of my college stuff, and it was the box that we just gave to Hansolie to give to Wonwoo, for Junnie and Soonyoung’s like, massive, joint, thirtieth birthday party.”
“What do you—Jeonghan!”
“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”
“I’m not mad, I’m—oh, my god.” Joshua groans, shoving Jeonghan all the way out of the way now, just so he can stand and pace, can start walking back and forth next to the bed like some kinda bloodthirsty shark, lurking for its prey. “You seriously gave my nudes to our friends.”
“We can get them back!” Jeonghan insists. “I’m sure they haven’t even started sorting through the photos yet. Seungkwannie has like, four gazillion photos of Jun on his own! It’ll take a solid two days to get through those.”
“That’s not the point!” Joshua says. He sounds panicked now. Which isn’t necessarily better than him being mad, but. “Why did you still have them in the first place? That was—ages ago! And embarrassing!”
“What was I supposed to do, throw them away? Burn them in a fire?” Jeonghan frowns. He’s a little offended. He thought Joshua knew he was a real loverboy like that. “They’re photos of you, baby, they could never be embarrassing!”
“Oh, no,” Joshua says with a laugh—a mean one, the kind that would normally make Jeonghan a little hot and bothered given any other circumstance. “Do not call me baby when you’re—you know what? Never mind. We need to call Hansolie and tell him to bring the box back over before Wonwoo gets his hands on it and then god knows who else sees them. Call him.”
“It’s midnight!” Jeonghan argues. Because this kinda feels like a morning problem now. Hansol’s probably already asleep, and Jeonghan should be asleep, and he’s fairly certain a mutual orgasm is off the table for them tonight, but it’d be kinda nice if it weren’t still. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“No, you’ll do it now,” Joshua corrects. He gets on the bed again, kneels right in front of Jeonghan and Jeonghan is admittedly a little intimidated, so he reaches for his phone to compromise, because he’s—well, he’s not currently the best boyfriend, but he’s usually pretty good, so.
“I will text him right now,” he says slowly. Scrolls to Hansol’s contact and everything, waving it in front of Joshua so he sees it. “Tomorrow I’ll call him. Tomorrow I’ll call and then I’ll go to his and Seungkwannie’s place, pick up the box again, and everything will be fine.”
“You better fucking hope everything will be fine,” Joshua tells him. He laughs again, though this time less mean and more just incredulous. He has so many layers, Joshua Hong. “Otherwise, I’ll—ugh.”
“I’m gonna fix it, seriously,” Jeonghan tries to placate him, watching as Joshua flops onto his side of the bed with a groan, covering his face with his hands. “No one will see them! Besides, I don’t think you have anything to be embarrassed about if they did. You were hot!”
Joshua pulls his hands down to give Jeonghan another look. He does not smile, although Jeonghan stupidly is, trying to ease the tension a bit. Joshua, instead, rolls his eyes.
“Tell me what Hansolie says the second he answers you,” Joshua demands. He shifts now to get under the comforter, and yes, ok, now Jeonghan guesses he can officially kiss tonight’s orgasm goodbye. There’s always tomorrow. Preferably after he does indeed fix this.
“Of course,” Jeonghan obliges. He wiggles underneath the blankets next to Joshua, thankful that he doesn’t try to turn away when Jeonghan gets extra close. “And then once we have them back you can do whatever you want to them. Burn them, flush them down the toilet, put it in the shredder I have at work. Hell, frame them?”
“Not funny,” Joshua says, though he’s sort of trying not to smile, Jeonghan can tell by the subtle pull by his eyes, and he lets out a breath of relief. “We’re burning them, for the record.”
“Whatever you want,” Jeonghan says.
He’ll fix it. It’ll be fine.
* * *
By the grace of whatever god is looking out for Jeonghan, he wakes up to a text from Hansol. It’s sent a little past three, and Jeonghan would really rather not know what he was up doing at that time, but he doesn’t have it in him to care, anyway, not when he’s still trying to fix all this.
sollie: yea come whenever you want tomorrow
sollie: im wfh
Perfect.
So Jeonghan leaves that morning for work by leaving a sweet kiss to Joshua’s half asleep lips, tells him Hansol answered him, that he’ll swing by on his way home from work, in fact, he’ll even make sure to leave work at a normal time to ensure he gets there in an orderly fashion.
He even actually uses the words ‘orderly fashion,’ which makes Joshua’s nose scrunch up, call him a loser, and then kiss him again, so it’s a win all around.
(Or so it seems.)
“Hyung,” Hansol greets him later that day, answering the door in what Jeonghan knows is Seungkwan’s sweatshirt, volleyball team from college printed across the front. It looks kinda funny on Hansol, he’s really not a sports guy, but it’s also admittedly a little sweet. “What could have possibly been so urgent that could have waited until—” he looks at where a watch would be, if he was wearing one, “nearly six pm? Considering you texted me about it at midnight.”
“It is urgent,” Jeonghan insists, inviting himself into the apartment, kicking his shoes off at the door. He does not point out the fact that Joshua forced him to text Hansol at that time, that he actually wanted him to call. Hansol will only make fun of Jeonghan for being so—grossly in love or whatever. “What was so urgent that you couldn’t answer me until hours later? Clearly you were up, Hansol-ah.”
“Seungkwan,” Hansol says plainly. He laughs when Jeonghan groans and then clicks the door back shut. “Anyway. The box of photos, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jeonghan confirms wryly. “You didn’t start to go through it, did you?”
“I’m not going through it at all,” Hansol says with a laugh. He leads Jeonghan through the apartment then, past the cat bed that’s currently unoccupied, past the loveseat in the living room that does have the cat on it (who Jeonghan does not dare touch, because Haneul likes Seungkwan and only Seungkwan), and then to the kitchen, their tiny table stacked with a variety of things; streamers, boxes, confetti—it kinda looks like a birthday party threw up out here. “Seungkwannie is helping Wonu hyung with the party planning stuff, I was just the messenger. Your box is… under there somewhere.”
“Jesus, how much shit does one party need?” Jeonghan mumbles, starting to carefully rifle through the mess there, keeping it as neat as he still can, because Seungkwan will have Jeonghan’s head if he ruins whatever organized chaos he’s been working with. “They’re thirty, not getting married.”
“And Wonu and Seungkwannie are both convinced Jun hyung keeps the world spinning,” Hansol says, like it should be obvious. Jeonghan guesses it is. “They’re going all out.”
“And Soonyoungie?”
“Soonyoungie is lucky he’s Jun’s best friend.”
Jeonghan laughs, moving another pile of decorations to the side, huffing. Seungkwan could probably open up a small store after all this. Maybe do some party planning on the side, even. Make some money back or something.
“So, hey,” Hansol says, “are you gonna tell me what’s in the box or? I feel like I have the right to know. Considering you’re—turning my kitchen table upside down right now. You didn’t even present a search warrant or something.”
“Turning you kitchen upside down with no thanks to you, by the way,” Jeonghan points out. Hansol just shrugs, making himself comfortable as he perches himself on the kitchen counter. “But no, you don’t get to know. It’s just—important to Shua that I find it.”
“Oh,” Hansol says slowly. Drags the word out. “I see.”
Jeonghan looks at him from the corner of his eye. “What?” he asks. He peeks into a shopping bag and sees about three packs of tiger striped balloons. “You see what?”
Hansol giggles. Full on giggles. Sometimes Jeonghan forgets that Hansol can get like this; annoying, and bratty, and so good at pushing his buttons.
“Josh hyung is mad at you,” he says very simply. Annoying! And bratty!
“He’s not mad at me,” Jeonghan corrects, quickly at that. He pauses his searching so he can level Hansol with a look. “He’s—vaguely annoyed. And I’m fixing it.”
“‘Vaguely annoyed’ is like a death sentence coming from Shua hyung. Did he make you sleep on the couch last night?”
“I’m going to ruin your life, Chwe Hansol,” is the only comeback Jeonghan can muster, getting back to his search. Then, because it matters, “I slept in our shared bed last night, for the record.”
Hansol hums. “So what is it that you lost? I can’t imagine how it could get mixed up in a box of things from college if it was so important. You’re supposed to keep the important things somewhere you frequent. Like, the junk drawer in a kitchen or like, next to wherever you keep your lube.”
“Hansol-ah,” Jeonghan snaps, admittedly agitated, especially because—well. Where is it? “You’re not helping. Where is the box?”
“Sorry,” he says, and half sounds like he means it. He hops off the counter, going to join Jeonghan by the mess. “It should be here. This is the only place Seungkwannie is keeping all the stuff for the party. I put it here last night after I got home.”
“Ok,” Jeonghan says, doing his best to remain calm. Because, I mean, did they lose it? How could they lose a box covered in cartoon rabbits on surfboards? It was a normal sized box, too. Large enough that you shouldn’t lose it. “Where is Seungkwan?”
As if on cue, Jeonghan hears the apartment door unlock, followed by a bubbly, “Hansol-ah, it’s me,” and then there’s some subdued cooing, presumably at Haneul, who is finally off her perch.
“Seungkwan-ah,” Jeonghan calls back. “It’s me. Get in here.”
Seungkwan enters with Haneul and a bag slung over his shoulder—pilates, of course—wearing a frown. “Hyung?” he says, “what are you doing here?”
“Missed you both too much,” Jeonghan says, just to be annoying. “Where’s the box of photos I gave you yesterday?”
“You say you missed us and then you get all—hostile and uptight,” Seungkwan mumbles, stepping into the kitchen to give Hansol a kiss on the cheek, and then he hands him Haneul, who immediately hisses, and Hansol releases her for her to retreat back to the living room. Seungkwan continues, “I don’t have it.”
Jeonghan pauses, halfway through sorting through a collection of happy birthday banners, ranging from elegant script to comic sans. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It just sounded like you said you didn’t have it. Say that again, but like, in a way that tells me you do have it.”
“I don’t, though,” Seungkwan says again, and now Jeonghan feels like he might slowly be dying, dread filling up his insides once more. “There was too much for me to go through by myself. Seokminnie hyung offered to help us with the party stuff two weeks ago—he has a membership at the party supply store that he’s been dying to use—so we split up the photos to sort, too. I gave the box to him just now at pilates.”
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” Jeonghan groans, sinking down into the seat next to him, half crushing a bag of streamers in the process. “Fuck.”
“Why?” Seungkwan asks warily. “What is there—what happened?”
“Nothing,” Jeonghan says, just at the same time that Hansol supplies, “Shua hyung is gonna kick his ass.”
“Hansol,” Jeonghan threatens and he just shrugs, unbothered, especially so when Seungkwan reaches to pat his head, the traitor that he is. “He’s not gonna kick my ass. There was just—something in there that shouldn’t have been. And I need to get it before anyone else does.”
“Ok, well,” Seungkwan says, “call Seokmin hyung and tell him. He’s probably not going to get to it until tomorrow, anyway. I think tonight he was working on the balloon arch.”
“Isn’t the party this weekend?” Hansol prompts. “How is he finishing a balloon arch that quick?”
“Do you doubt us, Chwe Hansol?” Seungkwan asks, and Hansol just shakes his head, simple, honest, and says nothing else.
“This is terrible,” Jeonghan laments, sinking down further into his seat. “Can’t you call Seokminnie for me and tell him you changed your mind? That you wanna like, do double duty or whatever?”
“What?” Seungkwan frowns. “No way, I have like, way too much shit to still do in two days. You won’t even tell us what’s so important, fix it yourself!”
Jeonghan makes a noise, pained, comes out like gaaaah, and Hansol and Seungkwan just exchange a look.
“There are photos,” Jeonghan starts slowly, carefully, because he probably should just be keeping this between him and Joshua, but also—he kinda needs moral support right now. And also, he thinks he might need to tell someone what’s happening just in case Joshua does in fact kick his ass. “Of Shua. Like, private ones. That were meant just for me. And now they’re—they were in there.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Jeonghan looks up to see Seungkwan and Hansol exchanging another look, squinting at each other, like they’re having some sort of silent conversation. Probably calling Jeonghan an idiot, or a dick, or like, once again confirming that Joshua may kill him.
“Private photos,” Hansol finally says. He nods. Eyebrows knit together in the slightest bit of confusion or perhaps concern. “Like—”
“Nudes?!” Seungkwan finishes. He looks less than concerned, more so like he’s—fighting a fit of laughter or something, and Jeonghan suddenly gets the very strong urge to strangle him. “Hyung, please tell me they’re not nudes.”
“We were young! It was Winter break!” Jeonghan tries to defend himself. He stands now, starts pacing the tiny kitchen, Hansol and Seungkwan’s eyes following him like a ball at a tennis match. “And I’ve been so busy with work, and I forgot they were in there, I mean—it’s not like I was looking at them, but I—I remembered, and now—”
“Now Shua hyung is gonna kick your ass,” Seungkwan concludes. He makes a noise, kinda like a scoff and a gasp. Shocked. A little bit of laughter. “Hyung, you need to call Seokminnie now. What are you still doing here?”
“Stalling,” Jeonghan says, very honestly. “I can’t face Lee Seokmin by myself. And now I’m weighing my options. Tell Shua now? Make him come with me? Tell Channie and make him come with me? He makes the most sense to brave Seokmin, they’re always together, but—Chan had that insane crush on Shua for the first like, four years we knew him. And Shua and I were already dating then! I don’t want him in the same vicinity as his nudes!”
“Channie was in love with Shua hyung because he had recently realized he liked dudes and Joshua is like, the ideal, first gay crush,” Hansol excuses. Like it’s just a known fact. Is it supposed to be one? How many other men has Joshua been the first gay crush for? Jeonghan doesn’t wanna think about it. “Also, that was years ago now?”
“I don’t forget.”
“Also,” Seungkwan continues, “Why can’t you face Seokmin hyung by yourself? He’s—Seokmin. His most listened to genre on streaming services is always show tunes. He’s harmless!”
“Yeah, but—” Jeonghan pauses.
The thing about Lee Seokmin is that he is just Seokmin. He’s kind, and he’s funny, and he’s been a part of their little circle of friends just as long as everybody else, but then the other thing is, he’s Seokmin.
He and Jeonghan have always had an—interesting relationship. He was Joshua’s friend first. The first time Jeonghan met him, he had been dating Joshua for just two weeks. Seokmin was introduced to him as Joshua’s friend from statistics class. He knew Soonyoung, too. He laughed at everyone’s jokes, and he always went out of his way to be nice to everyone, and it—it was scary. He was so personable. Like, even more so than Joshua and Seungkwan combined. Professors loved him, and all his classmates loved him, and even the campus security who Jeonghan never saw smile, not once, he loved him, too.
How could someone wield so much power? Be so well loved? Jeonghan was liked by like, a total of nine people on the entire campus. And he wasn’t even sure he could include Seungcheol, who was, and is, his best friend.
Lee Seokmin was scary. Remains scary. Remains well liked, and very kind, and very—jolly. Jeonghan thinks people that jolly are hiding something. Like, some sort of deep-seated rage. Maybe that’s why he fears him. Like Seokmin is just waiting for Jeonghan—prime target: his best friend’s boyfriend—to mess up so he can release it. Oh, god. Is this the mess up?
“He’s Seokmin,” Jeonghan concludes weakly.
“Exactly why I’m not seeing the problem here.” Seungkwan laughs. “Hyung, I know his kindness and childlike whimsy scares you, but you need to get over it. Unless you want him to see Shua hyung’s dick—”
“Yah, don’t say it like that!”
“I’m trying to give you a reality check,” Seungkwan says. He sniffs. “Go home, tell Shua, and then call Seokmin hyung. Tell him you wanna—help him sort through the photos or something and then take it when he’s not looking, if you’re so afraid. Maybe it’ll actually be a good bonding experience. Fix whatever irrational fear you have of him.”
“It’s not irrational,” Jeonghan tries to defend. “He’s jolly.”
“So are Christmas elves,” Hansol says. “And cartoon princesses.”
“Fine.” Jeonghan accepts defeat, utterly fruitless, bubbling over with anxiety again, and huffs. He will go home, and he will talk to Joshua, and then tomorrow, he’ll go to Seokmin’s, be brave, get the photos and everything will be fixed. Or so he tells himself. “But if I don’t make it to the party Saturday, at least you’ll know what happened to me.”
“Are you implying Shua hyung might kill you? Or Seokminnie hyung?” Hansol asks. “Could go either way, the way you’ve been talking.”
Jeonghan makes another noise. Pained. Like gaaaah again, but somehow even weaker.
“Whoever gets me first,” he says.
* * *
Jeonghan is actually a pretty good liar.
He knows he shouldn’t brag about it, but he’s rather skilled at being deceitful and blurring the lines a bit. He doesn’t do it much anymore. Only when he’s lying to Seungcheol over something stupid or to his dentist when he tells him he has been flossing between meals, of course, he always does.
But he is good at it. Unless it comes to Joshua. Then all bets are off.
“You didn’t get them,” Joshua concludes within the first fourteen seconds of talking to Jeonghan later that evening. Because Jeonghan cannot lie to him to save his life, he doesn’t know why he even tried. Joshua’s eyes are narrow and his mouth is pulled in a tight line and Jeonghan stays very, very still, like a skittish, tiny animal. “What happened?”
“They were—relocated.” Jeonghan winces at his own words, immediately preparing to grovel once Joshua rolls his eyes, turning back around to the stove, stirring aggressively at what will soon be their dinner. (Hey, that’s a plus at least. Jeonghan hasn’t made it home in time for dinner in like, a solid week.) “But I’m fixing it!”
“That’s what you told me this morning.” He turns back around to face Jeonghan. A little bit angry. And though the timing is not great, very, very beautiful. “Where are they?”
“Seokminnie’s.”
Joshua laughs at that, one loud cackle. He turns back around. “Good,” he says. Well aware of Jeonghan’s particular—unease around Lee Seokmin. “And you already texted him and told him you were coming because you love me and you care about me, right?”
“I will text him,” Jeonghan says. He was seriously going to do that. He just needed a breather first. Maybe a pity hug from Joshua if he was feeling generous enough. “Because I do love you and care about you. And think you’re the most handsome guy ever. And the smartest. And funny. And—understanding?”
“You’re pushing it.”
“I know,” Jeonghan admits, dragging his feet towards the stove to hook his chin over Joshua’s shoulder, hanging off him like a pathetic, wet noodle. “I really am sorry.”
“I know you are,” Joshua mumbles, like he doesn’t really want to admit it, but he isn’t cruel, he never could be. He sighs. “But like, seriously, Jeonghan-ah? Do you actually realize how ridiculous this all is? I should not be stressed about nude photos I took of myself a near decade ago. And yet I have legitimate stress. What if Seokminnie enlists the help of like, his old neighbor for party planning duties? He is always crafting with her! And those pictures I took were so—slutty. If Lee Seokmin should not be seeing them, then that sweet old woman definitely should not be!”
“He won’t ask her, don’t worry,” Jeonghan says, sure of himself, or at least he tries to be. “Because I’m gonna call him right now, and I’m gonna tell him his very dear, very kind hyung wants to help, and we are going to have so much fun together, and he will not terrify me, not once in the slightest.”
Joshua pauses, trying to turn to face him. “That sounded more like reassurance for yourself rather than me.”
Jeonghan hides his face into Joshua’s shoulder blade, letting the bony part poke right into his eyeball. “I’m sorry,” he says into Joshua’s sweater. He picks his head up again. “But the point stands. And those pictures of you were chic, very artistic. Gorgeous. The perfect amount of slutty. Like you always are.”
“You’re not making it any better,” Joshua laments. He wiggles his shoulder a little in an attempt to get Jeonghan off. Unsuccessful; Jeonghan will stay here until he dies, probably. “I still don’t understand why you even kept them in the first place. You’ve moved like, twice since then.”
“I told you, they’re of you,” Jeonghan tries to explain again, though rather weakly. He slips his hand under Joshua’s top, not at all surprised when Joshua pulls it out instantly with a groan. “Ok, sorry. But, anyway, that automatically makes them special. Save-worthy!”
“Whatever, I don’t feel like talking about it anymore.” Joshua reaches around him to pinch at Jeonghan’s side. “Go away. Go call Seokmin. You’re annoying.”
“Yes, my love,” Jeonghan agrees, because he doesn’t have much else of a choice, and so he flops on the living room couch, pulls out his phone, and scrolls to Seokmin’s contact with bated breath.
He dials, waits for three rings, and finally, “Jeonghannie hyung?”
Seokmin sounds confused. Which is understandable, Jeonghan guesses. The last time he messaged Seokmin privately was for his birthday, and before that was a text from a night out three months prior, wondering where the hell he was, and Seokmin didn’t even answer that. So he can understand Seokmin’s confusion.
“Seokmin-ah! Hi,” he says, as cheery as possible. “It’s hyung.”
“I know,” Seokmin laughs. Jeonghan thinks he can hear some kind of jazzy piano playing from a speaker in the background. “What do you need?”
“Friendship. And love. And joy.” Jeonghan panics. It really doesn’t suit him. “I mean—I wanted to help you with some stuff for Moon Jun and Soonyoungie’s party. What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow?” Seokmin hums like he’s thinking about it. Jeonghan can imagine him now, flipping through his carefully color coded calendar and everything. “Party things, you’re in luck. How’s six?”
Jeonghan grins. Forces himself to, really. He loves Joshua, and he cares about him, and Lee Seokmin is just a guy.
“Perfect.”
* * *
Another thing about Lee Seokmin, you know, on top of his kind heart and pure soul, is that he is very—senstive.
It’s not a bad thing. Jeonghan would like to make that clear; he does not see it as a bad thing. Sensitivity is an important quality to have. Jeonghan can be sensitive sometimes. He’s working on it, at least.
But Seokmin is good at that. Tapped into his emotions. And sometimes, he may take things too personal, which is fine, which is also half the reason why he spends so much time in petty arguments with Soonyoung and Seungkwan, which is also why Jeonghan needs to be careful about the situation, about not only keeping quiet on the fact that he lost Seokmin’s best friend’s nudes, but also about like, going to rescue them under the guise of wanting to help and spend time with Seokmin. Because if he isn’t careful, Seokmin might like, unleash his wrath or whatever.
And Jeonghan doesn’t care if he’s the only one who thinks it’s in there. He stands by it.
“It’s so nice to have you, hyung,” Seokmin says. Chipper as ever. Jeonghan is sitting in his kitchen, watching Seokmin flutter around to grab two glasses and a bottle of wine. He’s also secretly scoping out the place to see where he might be hiding Jeonghan’s surfing rabbits. “You never visit, just you. Where was Shua hyung tonight?”
“Gym plans with Jihoon, Chan, and Cheolie,” Jeonghan says, which is true. What he doesn’t say is that Joshua only made those plans out of spite, so he would have a solid excuse not to come with Jeonghan when he inevitably begged. He also specifically brought Chan so Jeonghan couldn’t ask him either. Which annoys Jeonghan for more reasons than one. Anyway— “How’s the party planning going?”
“Great!” Seokmin smiles with all his perfect teeth. He sets a glass in front of Jeonghan and pours a generous amount, which Jeonghan appreciates because he does kinda need to relax. “Junnie and Soonyoung hyung are gonna be so surprised with half the stuff we managed. Wonu hyungie commissioned some guy to do macaroni portraits of them.”
“Oh, wow,” Jeonghan says. He takes a big sip of his wine, then another. There’s a song playing from somewhere in the apartment that Jeonghan can only assume is the opening number to a Broadway show. “A macaroni portrait is… the real deal.”
He has no idea if that’s what he’s supposed to say, but Seokmin smiles again, so Jeonghan guesses it was. So far so good, he tries to tell himself, just remain calm, remain normal.
“That’s what I said,” Seokmin beams. “I just can’t believe the party is tomorrow night. It was a good thing you called, to be honest, I have like, a few last things to finish up, and I wasn’t sure I was even gonna get through it all.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” Jeonghan says, sitting up a little straighter, doing his best to look like the dependable hyung he so is. Then, as subtly as he can, “What’s left, then? Party favors? Putting together a banner? Or hey, what about all those photos you guys had? I can help look for some good ones! Or—I can do it all. I usually finish things pretty fast.”
“Let’s hope not in the bedroom!”
Jeonghan chokes on his wine a little. “What?”
“Sorry, it was a joke,” Seokmin says hastily. He shakes his head, looking genuinely upset with himself. “That’s not usually my genre.”
“Right, ok.” Jeonghan clears his throat, forcing a laugh that comes out awkward. “It was funny. But for the record, not true. We can workshop it, if you want.”
Seokmin frowns, throwing a hand in Jeonghan’s direction. He takes a sip of his own glass and then smiles, clapping once. “Later, maybe,” he decides. “Wanna do place cards with me? How’s your handwriting?”
“There are place cards? How many people were invited to this thing?” Jeonghan asks, mostly to himself, before he shakes his head. “Whatever. I guess I could help with that. My handwriting isn’t as nice as Seungkwannie’s, but it’s like, readable. Kinda.”
Seokmin hums, like he’s not convinced. He heads over to the closet in the corner and it kinda—explodes at him, the same way Seungkwan’s kitchen table did last night, just colors and glitters and a lot of paper that makes a variety of crinkly noises. Jeonghan is starting to think that party supply store membership is not the best idea for Seokmin’s wallet. He does not say that, though, he could never.
“We can come up with something else for you, I’ll handle the place cards,” Seokmin says, as polite as he can of course, still with a smile. He turns around from the closet with a basket, overflowing with—god only knows what. “Wanna put together the props for the photobooth? I haven’t had the chance to cut them out yet. There are cat ears! And also—tophats and monocles which don’t really scream Moon Jun or Soonyoungie, but are equally as fun, I guess.”
“Love me a monocle,” Jeonghan says. What the hell would he say that? He doesn’t give a shit about monocles. He is not the monopoly man. He takes another sip of wine, a little anxious, shrugging. “I could totally do props. Unless, like I said earlier, and I’m just spitballing here, you’re the boss man—the photos? For the um, slideshow? Seungkwannie mentioned you guys had so many pictures. I’m sure it’s a lot to get through.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Seokmin says, sounds like he means it, too, which is scary because Jeonghan is actually very worried about that. He drops the box of props in front of Jeonghan and then turns back to the closet to rifle through it some more. “We took care of the photos already.”
Jeonghan freezes, halfway through taking a prop mustache out of the box. There’s a pair of scissors in there, too, presumably to cut these out, but Jeonghan makes note of it just in case he needs to like, stab himself in the foot to cause enough scene to cancel the whole party, thus saving Joshua’s nudes from being publicized.
“What do you, um—” Jeonghan’s voice comes out weak, and shaky, not like himself. He clears his throat again, sucking in a breath. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it was like you said,” Seokmin starts, voice muffled the tiniest bit as he speaks into the closet, “there were way too many pictures to go through. Seungkwannie and I started to, but all of them were basically the same. Everyone at the bar that did two for one Friday’s, everyone in Wonu’s dad’s car, Soonyoung with his head stuck in the banister in Junnie’s dorm. There was no point in picking through them, the slide show is supposed to last all night, anyway. The longer the better!”
“Right, sure,” Jeonghan says, tries to remain very calm as he continues cutting out the mustache. It’s coming out all messy and weird. He hopes Seokmin doesn’t scold him for it, but he can’t help it, his body is going into fight or flight again. “So you guys—I mean, what? You still have them, right?”
Seokmin turns away from the closet finally, holding a stack of what Jeonghan assumes are place cards. He’s also still smiling, which makes Jeonghan feel even worse.
“Nope!” he says, much to Jeonghan’s doom. “I gave them to Wonwoo hyung earlier today. He had to drop them at the venue so they have enough time to scan them in and have them for the slide show. They got a system there, I don’t know the full details. They do this all the time!”
But they don’t come across nudes all the time, I’m sure, Jeonghan does not say, but instead just sits, mustache still pathetically in hand, scissors in the other. Is now the time he stabs himself in the foot? Jesus christ, this is bad.
Seokmin must notice, because when he reaches the table Jeonghan’s at again, he’s frowning, eyebrows pulled together with worry. “Hyung?” he says. “Everything good?”
And so Jeonghan has a few choices now. He could lie, could say he’s fine, cut through these props at a lightning speed and then rush on home on the account of his stomach suddenly hurting (Seokmin would forgive him, he would never hold a digestive system against someone, it’s a good lie), or he could stay, could finish what he started, text Wonwoo and tell him not to move, and then have him not use any of his box all together, or he could text Joshua, tell him to go to Wonwoo’s, call himself, intercept in some way, though he knows that would just upset Joshua more, this is supposed to be Jeonghan’s job, Jeonghan is the one who should be fixing it, and yet it continues to spiral out of control.
He could also stab himself in the foot. There is always that.
“Everything is great,” Jeonghan says. His voice comes out too loud and too flat to be genuine and he takes another sip of his wine, nearly downing it in one gulp. “These are great scissors. Sharp. You could like, really poke yourself if you wanted to.”
“Why would you wanna do that?” Seokmin asks. He pauses where he’d been setting up his place cards, giving Jeonghan a real look. “Hyung. You’re acting weird.”
“I am not,” he says. He is, he knows he is. “You’re acting weird. Stop looking at me like that, do your place holders. Also, can we open a window in here? Why is it so hot?”
“Hyung,” Seokmin says again, more concerned this time, which does nothing to lessen the knot building in Jeonghan’s stomach. He pulls out his phone to subtly text Wonwoo underneath the counter. Or at least he tries, because his hands are sweaty, and his fingers are shaky, and Seokmin won’t stop— “Hyung, what happened, seriously?”
Jeonghan locks his phone, text half written, unsent. He groans, loud. Same way he did at Hansol and Seungkwan’s place. Seokmin just stares at him, like he’s actually a little afraid.
“Why assume something happened?” he asks. He picks up the scissors again and then a tophat. Just to do something with his hands. “I just—am totally wired up now. Because the party. And the monocles. Fuck, I seriously love monocles.”
“See this is what I mean when I say you’re being weird. No one loves monocles, hyung,” Seokmin insists. He eyes Jeonghan with a sort of suspicion. “What did you do?”
“And that, too!” Jeonghan waves the tophat around now. “Why assume I did something? Why does everyone assume it’s me? I mean, it sort of is sometimes, but also, some things are just an honest mistake, and I have a lot going on, and like, anyone could have done it! Could have forgotten it. It happens! You know when you turn thirty you like, start to become more, um, scatterbrained. That was a thing I legitimately read once. They used that word, too. Scatterbrained. Anyway—nothing happened. And I’m fine!”
Seokmin nods, very slowly. Like he—understood any of that. Taking it all in. Jeonghan’s heart is beating so loud he can feel it in between his ears.
“There was something in the box, wasn’t there?” Seokmin concludes.
“Maybe or maybe not,” Jeonghan says loftily. He sits back in his seat, abandoning the mustache and scissors to shrug. “And it may or may not get me killed.”
“What?” Seokmin whisper-yells, genuinely concerned now. He looks around like someone may be listening in or something, like suddenly his apartment is not safe. “Hyung, are you in trouble? Does Shua know? Do you need protection?”
“What?” Jeonghan’s turn to ask. He groans again, shaking his head before he drops it into his hands, defeated. “No, Seokmin-ah,” he says into his palms, “Shua is the reason I’m in trouble. I—there was something in there that’s… his. That shouldn’t have been in there. And now it’s. Well.”
“Oh.” Seokmin sounds relieved. And also like that’s not where he was expecting the conversation to go at all. What kinda trouble did he think Jeonghan was capable of? No time. “Does he know whatever it is is in there?”
“Yes,” Jeonghan says with a sigh. He picks his head up, pathetic, defeated, and Seokmin gives him a pitiful look. “I told him I would fix it.”
“So you will,” Seokmin decides, encourages, threatens—Jeonghan doesn’t know. He pauses then, sort of like he’s realizing something. “Wait. Is that why you came over? Were you trying to fix it?”
Jeonghan lets out a long um, momentarily contemplating using the scissors on himself once and for all. He does not. Instead, very bravely says, “Sort of. I mean, of course I wanted to help and was looking forward to spending time with you, but—”
“Hyung, you don’t have to lie,” Seokmin says, and Jeonghan sort of braces himself then, prepares for the wrath, or like, at the very least, tears, but Seokmin just shrugs, continuing, “In fact, you could’ve just asked me if I still had the box. Saved yourself some time. Also, your cutting job looks like you just bit through the paper prop, so. I would’ve rathered you just be honest with me.”
“This is totally an average cutting job!” Jeonghan defends himself, holding up the mustache that looks—well. Whatever. “Also, I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t want you to think I don’t, um. Enjoy hanging out with you. Because I do. So much.”
“Hyung,” Seokmin says again, though this time he sounds a bit over it, kinda rolls his eyes, too. “What are you—go to Wonu hyung’s place, seriously. What are you still doing here?”
“Making it right with you!” Jeonghan says. Because it’s one thing to be on Joshua’s bad side, but to be on Seokmin’s as well—that would be a death wish. “I can text Wonwoo! And we can… keep cutting props and talking about, um, that play you like so much, the one with the great soundtrack, and—”
“Every play has a good soundtrack,” Seokmin stops him. “Also, there’s nothing to make right with me, hyung, think of Shua! If you lose—wait, what’d you lose again?”
Jeonghan stays very still. “I’d rather you not know. To preserve your image of both Shua and me inside your mind.”
Seokmin frowns. “That doesn’t make me feel good,” he says. Then, “In any case, you need to fix it with Shua hyung. Because if he’s mad at you, he’s mad at all of us. And I don’t feel like having my dick threatened to be chopped off just because you messed up.”
“Imagine how I feel!” Jeonghan says. He slumps back down in his chair, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. Which is why he continues, “I just love him so much, and I feel like these days, all I do is disappoint him. And it’s like, how much more can he take before he decides I’m the worst and breaks up with me forever? Because I am kinda the worst sometimes.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not the worst,” Seokmin says. He sounds kinda annoyed about it, a specific kinda tone Jeonghan doesn’t hear often from him unless Mingyu’s getting on his nerves or Jihoon threatens to not text when he gets home safe. “Look, hyung, I don’t know what you did, but sitting around here feeling bad for yourself isn’t gonna help. You’re so much better than that!”
“I don’t feel bad for myself, I just—”
“Just are sitting around when you should be fixing it,” Seokmin finishes. “Easy solution! He’s only going to break up with you if you give him reason to. Have you been giving him a reason to?”
“What? Of course not,” Jeonghan says quickly. He shakes his head. “I’m just scared that I’ll—”
Whatever Jeonghan is going to say gets cut short by a name card hitting him square in the forehead. It honestly kinda hurts, the ends are pointed and it’s thrown with a surprising amount of force. Jeonghan sees his life momentarily flash before his eyes. This is what he’s been talking about. This is Seokmin’s wrath.
“Shut up,” Seokmin says simply.
“What?”
“Shut up,” he says again, as if Jeonghan didn’t hear him, as if that was the problem. “This isn’t the Jeonghannie hyung I know. Especially not when it comes to Shua. You’re supposed to be outrageously annoying and so obsessed with him that it becomes a nuisance to the rest of us. Why are you talking about yourself like you’re a loser? Like you haven’t been dating for almost ten years? Like you don’t work well together?”
Jeonghan frowns. “That felt—all over the place. Are you complimenting me?”
“Yes,” Seokmin says, rolling his eyes a bit, too. He stands, rounding the table to get Jeonghan to really look at him, like he really has to talk some sense into him. Which, well. “Look, hyung, I’ll be honest. Back when you first started dating Shua hyung, I didn’t love you. You were kinda scary. Like, in a disturbed kinda way.”
“A disturbed kinda way? What the hell does that mean?” Jeonghan asks. He frowns even harder. “Also, I always suspected you didn’t like me, anyway, but did you have to tell me now? I’m already down, why keep kicking me?”
“Are you listening?” Seokmin sits into his hip. “I said when you first started dating. Like, before I got to know you and realized you were—actually really kind and caring. You came to all my drama productions for moral support! None of Shua’s exes ever did that.”
“Supporting the arts is… important?”
“I know you were just doing it for him, you can seriously stop lying now,” Seokmin says and Jeonghan deflates, shrugging. So Lee Seokmin sees right through him. Whatever. At least he’s not threatening him with a weapon. Yet. “But that’s the thing, y’know? Like, you’d sit through his best friend’s Spring semester play. Or you’d rush from your advertising class to meet Joshua on the opposite side of campus. Or you’d stay up late and fuck up your sleep schedule when he went home because you wanted to talk to him so bad. You did—do, stupid things, really nice things, just because you care about him so much. You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Jeonghan says easily. Exactly why he came here to cut out top hats and monocles and not even once openly judge Seokmin for his party supply store membership. No matter how much he might think it. “He’s the best.”
“Right,” Seokmin says slowly. “So like—maybe you should be going to Wonu hyung’s instead of sitting here and having a minor breakdown. Just like, an idea.”
“Right,” Jeonghan echoes, popping up from his seat, giving a pitiful look at the mustache he’d cut out. He did do a poor job, he will admit. “Hey. Are you sure you’re not, um. Offended? That I came over solely so I could try and snoop?”
“Of course not, hyung.” Seokmin smiles again, all his teeth. It’s a good smile. Makes Jeonghan feel—kinda nice once the initial fear of Seokmin wears off. “In fact it’s kinda romantic.”
“Thanks, Seok-ah,” Jeonghan says, exhaling a breath of relief. He reaches out to pat Seokmin on the back. “Would you mind telling Shua that, maybe? It might make him wanna murder me less.”
Seokmin gives him a sympathetic look. “Honestly? No. I do like you, but Shua hyung is still my best friend. If he still wants to kill you after all this, he probably has a good reason.”
“Fair enough,” Jeonghan allows, and then he stands, shoves his things into his pocket and gives Seokmin one last look. “Thanks, by the way, seriously. For the pep talk and for also not actually hating me.”
“You’ve never given me a real reason to, hyung,” Seokmin tells him. He pats Jeonghan back before he adds, “Yet. Don’t fuck it up.”
Fair enough.
* * *
By the grace of god, Wonwoo and Junhui’s apartment is conveniently located around the block from Seokmin’s, so after his melt down and then—the somewhat powerful pep talk, he beelines to their place, body practically thrumming with urgency.
The door opens nearly immediately.
“Hyung?” Wonwoo looks confused, and tired, but mostly confused. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were our takeout.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Jeonghan says, not even waiting for an invitation as he pushes past Wonwoo inside, Junhui sprawled out on their couch, tucked under a good four blankets. “Moon Junnie, how are we? Enjoying the last few days of your twenties?”
“Absolutely.” Junhui grins. “I had like, four energy drinks today because I hear your stomach gets super fucked when you turn thirty. Wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“That can’t possibly be true,” Wonwoo points out, but Junhui just ignores him.
He sits up a little under his pile of blankets. “So? What are you doing here? Since you’re not delivering our dinner, that is.”
“I need to talk to your boyfriend,” Jeonghan says, tugging off his shoes, because he is still a good guest, thank you very much. He turns to look at Wonwoo who outwardly frowns. “It’s urgent.”
“Last time you said something was urgent, you just needed to borrow twenty won for a Lego drop,” Wonwoo reminds him. He crosses his arms over his chest, adding very primly, “I’m doing last minute party things, you have to make it fast.”
“It’s amazing to me that you people are still working on this party,” Jeonghan marvels. He shakes his head. “It’s in like, twenty-four hours from now.”
“We got ahead of ourselves,” Wonwoo mumbles before quickly turning to Junhui, pointing a somewhat stern finger in his direction. Or as stern as Jeon Wonwoo can be while wearing a shirt ten times his size and his hair in ten different directions. “Jun-ah, no. Do not ask questions. I’m still not telling you about any of it! It’s tomorrow, you can last until then without any hints!”
“Come on, Jeon Wonwoo, you’re so lame!” Junhui groans. This is clearly an ongoing topic for them. “You’re lame and you hate me and you want me unhappy forever.”
“Which is exactly why I’m throwing you and your best friend a party, yes,” Wonwoo says, throwing a hand at him. He rolls his eyes, giving Junhui one last look, who sticks his tongue out before smiling again. Pleased. Wonwoo looks back to Jeonghan, exasperated. “What is it, hyung?”
“It has to do with the party, actually.”
Jeonghan looks at Junhui, who sits up even little further, all interested now, and then Wonwoo is rolling his eyes again as he tugs Jeonghan to the kitchen, kicking away the teapot shaped doorstopper that usually holds the flimsy door open.
“Stay where you are, Jun-ah!” Wonwoo calls over his shoulder before the door shuts. He lets out a breath once it’s just them. Relief. “Well? What now?”
“I’m just gonna cut to the chase because I’m tired of explaining it,” Jeonghan says. He runs a hand through his hair, genuinely distressed. “I’ve had a headache for like, a solid forty-eight hours now.”
Wonwoo laughs, just a little. “Tired of explaining it?” He tilts his head. “What the hell has been going on? This already feels too dramatic.”
”You do not know what kinda week I have had, Jeon Wonwoo, do not call me dramatic,” Jeonghan scolds him. Wonwoo holds his hands up, innocent, but he’s still got a face on like he’s trying not to laugh. Jeonghan hates him. “That box of photos you got from me for your—super long, gay slideshow? I need it back. Shua’s nudes were in there.”
”Ok, what?” Wonwoo actually does laugh now. Jeonghan hates him. “You’re joking. Why do you have printed nudes, what is this, the nineties?”
”No, it was 2017 and it was romantic,” Jeonghan corrects him. “Now give me the box. Or else I’ll—tell Junnie about the top hat and mustache props you have for the photobooth.”
”Why do you know about the photobooth?” Wonwoo actually whines, then frowns, deep. “Is Seungkwannie blabbing again? He sucks, this is why I was hesitant to let him help!”
”It wasn’t Seungkwannie, I was at Seokmin’s place helping him put shit together,” Jeonghan assures him. He holds a hand out and taps his foot. “Under the guise that I could retrieve the nudes, before he told me you had them. So hello, give me the goddamn box.”
”I don’t have the box, hyung,” Wonwoo says, and he does actually sound kinda bad about it, but Jeonghan also can’t really find it in him to locate the sympathy when he’s now suddenly four seconds from blacking out completely. He should’ve stabbed himself in the foot when he had the chance. “I had to give it to the venue to scan in for the slideshow. I dropped it off earlier.”
”Kill me dead right now,” Jeonghan says and honestly kinda means it. “Before Shua gets me. Just—poke me with a butter knife or something, I’m sure you have one in here. It’d hurt less than having to tell him I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”
”Hyung, relax,” Wonwoo says, holding his hands out as if he’s trying to placate him, as if he’s trying to tame like, a rabid animal. “He’s not gonna kill you.”
”You don’t know that!” Jeonghan insists. “This is like, the third time they’ve been just within my reach, before being ripped away from me. I feel like this really may be Shua’s breaking point. A guy can only be told his nudes have been relocated so many times!”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking to make sure Joshua is still at the gym, safe and blissfully unaware. He sees no texts from him, which is a good sign, and the little blue dot representing Joshua in his location services tells Jeonghan he’s at Seungcheol’s apartment now. Still in the clear.
“Yeah, and I wish you told me about all this earlier so I could’ve actually stopped it,” Wonwoo groans. Like this is his problem. Like Joshua is going to kill him. “Now your boyfriend’s dick is going to ruin the party!”
“First of all, Shua’s dick could not ruin anything ever, so take that back right now.”
“Ok, sorry?” Wonwoo frowns. “It feels wrong to talk about his dick in either light, to be honest.”
“Second of all,” Jeonghan continues, otherwise ignoring him, “I wouldn’t have to even be on this—wild goose chase if you didn’t have to get half our friend group involved as the party planning committee. What happened to a case of beer in your living room, Jeon Wonwoo! What happened to simplicity!”
“Ok, no, thirty is a big deal,” Wonwoo says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just because you and Shua brushed it off doesn’t mean the rest of us want to! I want to celebrate my boyfriend. He deserves it!”
“And Shua deserves not to have his bare ass on display for like—Junnie’s coworkers!” Jeonghan says. He sucks in a breath, shaking his head. He’s getting—fired up. He knows.
But Jeon Wonwoo is pushing his buttons and he has had a long week and, well, why did Wonwoo kinda imply that Jeonghan thinks Joshua doesn’t deserve to be celebrated with like, big, stupid parties and stuff?
Sure, they didn’t do much when they both turned thirty. Jeonghan didn’t want to for his own, too exhausted after a long week he had. Joshua made him dinner, and then they ordered dessert, and then they had sex and Jeonghan got to sleep in the next day, which was all he could’ve really wanted.
Joshua’s birthday was also less than climatic. He doesn’t even remember if they had initially planned something or not. The holidays are always already busy and Joshua is just lucky enough to fall in between Christmas and New Years, but usually they do something. This year they still did, it was just—Jeonghan had an end of the year work event on Joshua’s birthday and it was imperative he go, his manager’s manager was going to be there, he had to show face if he wanted to get closer to that promotion.
So Jeonghan went, which sucked, yeah, but then they went to dinner, a nice dinner, that following weekend. Jeonghan got him a really expensive watch as a gift. He even let Joshua blindfold him in bed. It went on for like, ever. It was a good birthday!
“Whatever,” he decides. He will not let Jeon Wonwoo talk him into a spiral. Not now. Not when he has other things to focus on. “I can go to the venue tomorrow before the party and—do something. I can fix it.”
Wonwoo gives him a look. “Define do something, Jeonghan-ah.”
“Replace the whole slideshow with literally anything else, I don’t know,” Jeonghan says. He hasn’t thought that far yet. Honestly, he’s still not entirely sure he’ll get home, tell all this to Joshua, and somehow make it out alive. “Also, it’s hyung to you, brat. Did you want Shua’s dick to ruin the party or?”
“No,” Wonwoo says quickly. There’s a beat. “I’m telling him you said it would ruin it, by the way. I thought his dick was supposed to never ruin anything, ever.”
“Now you’re just being a pain on purpose,” Jeonghan mumbles. He rolls his eyes. He needs to get home. Maybe pick up one of those mini chocolate cakes Joshua likes so much from the cafe over here on his way back. You know, just to soften the blow of him not actually retrieving the nudes yet. “I’m leaving. Thank you for nothing.”
“You’re welcome,” Wonwoo says, a pain, on purpose. He sighs, and then sounds a bit more sensitive as adds, “For the record, I’m not gonna tell Shua hyung anything other than the fact that you like, basically threatened me ten different ways in his defense. If he asks, obviously. I’m not in the business of telling Shua good things about you, otherwise.”
It actually makes Jeonghan feel a little better. Weirdly enough.
“Thanks,” he says. He sighs back. It feels like there’s forty two different stress knots in his left shoulder alone. Jesus, this is taking years off him. Maybe he should’ve celebrated thirty in a bigger way for himself. He’s not even gonna make it to thirty-one. “I won’t replace the slideshow with a montage of embarrassing photos of just you, just for that. You’re welcome.”
“Ok, hyung.” Wonwoo shakes his head. “Good luck with Shua, alright?”
God knows Jeonghan will need it.
* * *
The car is quiet. No radio, no talking, not even that pop culture podcast Joshua is always listening to, the one that Jeonghan is secretly growing fond of but would never say out loud because that’d mean he was warming up to something American, something American other than Joshua, of course, and he is not ready to admit that yet.
Completely silent. Just the hum of the car and if Jeonghan listens close enough, Seungcheol, in the backseat—
“Can you stop breathing so loud?” Jeonghan asks, snaps, really. “Why are you breathing so loud?”
Seungcheol makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror, eyes wide before he looks to Joshua, holding his hands up in confusion.
“What did I—”
“He’s breathing at a normal volume, Jeonghan-ah,” Joshua says before Seungcheol can argue, voice even. “Don’t be annoying just because you fucked up.”
“I’m not being annoying,” Jeonghan argues. He does not say anything to defend himself from the second half of that, he knows it’s no use, so instead he goes back to focusing on the road, exhaling, quietly, through his nose. “I come from a place of—concern. Like, you should get that checked out.”
“It was definitely a place of annoyance,” Seungcheol corrects. He slumps down into his seat, and Jeonghan can see him pull out his phone from the rearview before he nearly disappears from his line of vision completely. “To which I remind you, you accosted me to come on this field trip. I did not ask to be here.”
“Yeah, but you’re a good friend,” Jeonghan tells him. And he doesn’t even mean it sarcastically, Seungcheol is a good friend (too good, right now, probably), but he does only say it to make Seungcheol feel better about being forced to leave a whole hour earlier for this party than everyone else.
“And also,” Joshua goes on, “just because Jeonghannie is scared to be alone with me right now. Rightfully so, anyway. Because I’m scary.”
“What’d you say the problem was between you guys again?” Seungcheol asks. He sounds tired. Jeonghan can practically hear his frown.
“Nothing,” Jeonghan says, quickly, just before Joshua actually explains, “He lost my nudes.”
Beat of silence. Jeonghan really wishes they had that podcast now. Is it a good time to admit it? Would it help ease the tension?
“Ok,” Seungcheol finally says. “Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear more about it.”
“I’m glad to see you still have a sense of self perseverance,” Jeonghan jokes.
“But for the record, I hate playing middle man for you two,” Seungcheol adds. “It’s been like—ten years of this. Unhand me.”
“After you help us with this, fine,” Jeonghan agrees passively. It won’t happen, anyway. Seungcheol really is his best friend. He’s stuck being a mediator for all eternity. “Did you get the USB from Jihoonie, by the way?”
“For the fourteenth time this car ride, yes,” Seungcheol says, thank god. Because the last thing Jeonghan would need right now is their backup plan falling through, and Joshua’s dick actually going on display for this entire party. “What’s on it?”
“A presentation of photos of Junnie and Soonyoung from like, the time Mingyu met them up until the last time we hung out,” Jeonghan says.
Because he had zero time last night trying to coordinate something to replace whatever the hell Wonwoo was working on and Kim Mingyu and his love for powerpoint transitions were his best bet. Luckily, Mingyu was home last night, like, knitting or reading some self help book, and was also able to send his work to Jihoon, who doesn’t sleep and was also kind enough to lend out one of the USB’s he uses for music, usually. Jeonghan’s first win all week, really.
(When he told Joshua of his foolproof solve last night he had expected a tiny smile and a ‘good, thank you,’ at the very least. He’s not totally naive, he knows Joshua is still kinda pissed at him, but like—Jeonghan really is fixing this.
Instead, though, Joshua had not looked up from his phone which he had been scrolling in bed, tucked under the blankets and in a hoodie despite it being June, and simply said ‘if it doesn’t work, I’m going to ruin your life.’
Though Jeonghan guesses it could have gone worse, so.)
“Very specific,” Seungcheol muses. He thinks about it for another moment and then laughs. “Wasn’t Soonyoungie’s hair like, greenish-blue when he met Mingyu?”
“Yes and it was heinous,” Joshua confirms. He looks up from his phone, directions to the party venue still pulled up. They’re almost there. Jeon Wonwoo just had to choose somewhere outside of Seoul, but Jeonghan knows that’s just because he was persuaded by Seungkwan into booking somewhere with a scenic view. Like the brick wall of an alley way back home can’t be scenic or something. “But it’s better than putting my ass out for everyone to see, no?”
Seungcheol hums behind him, while Jeonghan staunchly avoids the accusing eye contact Joshua is trying to make with him.
“I guess,” Seungcheol decides. “You were being serious about that, though? Like, the nudes thing? I thought that was just another weird instance of your bullshit mind games.”
“Of course we were being serious. Jeonghannie hates me.” Joshua faces Seungcheol with a complete frown. “That’s why he’s scared of me right now. I’m on high alert.”
”I’m not actually scared of you and I don’t actually hate you,” Jeonghan is quick to correct. He looks through the rearview at Seungcheol again, frowning, though as he adds, “He’s telling people he’s gonna cut off my dick.”
”I am not and I would never,” Joshua says primly.
He leans over the center console, seeping into Jeonghan’s space just the tiniest bit. Jeonghan can smell his cologne, and can feel the subtle warmth radiating from him, feels the cold metal of his rings on Jeoonghan’s elbow, and tries very hard not to look at him all sickly in love, because he knows now is not the time.
“Or at least I wouldn’t before making a mold of it first,” he adds. “I’m not stupid.”
Seungcheol groans in the back, packed full of disgust and regret. “Shua-yah, gross,” he whines. “This is the last time I agree to anything you two ask of me. I mean it!”
”Ok, Cheolie, sure.” Joshua stifles a laugh, looking at his phone then suddenly, nudging Jeonghan. “Turn now. We’re here.”
“For what it’s worth,” Jeonghan says, making the quick turn, “I appreciate you caring enough to semi-preserve my dick somehow. But I seriously do not, could never ever hate you. Don’t even joke.”
Joshua makes a noise, weak, something similar to an affirmative maybe. “Sure,” he says, dragging the word out, unconvinced. “Cheol-ah, what do you think?”
“Unhand me,” he reiterates. He sounds a bit desperate. Jeonghan would laugh if he wasn’t the one in deep shit. “Seriously!”
“Later, seriously,” Jeonghan tells him. They park, and Jeonghan turns to the backseat, fixing Seungcheol with a look. “Now give me the USB.”
Thank god for Kim Mingyu and his transitions.
* * *
So the party has a photobooth, the ice luge, the macaroni portraits of Junhui and Soonyoung that Wonwoo commissioned, and just about a million other things, including the very amateur photo show done by Mingyu, greenish-blue hair up until about a week and a half ago when they all went to dinner.
It features a lot of photos of Soonyoung in bars, slumped over and drunk, and many of Junhui posing with various desserts he and Mingyu are extremely fond of, and also some of Soonyoung and Junhui in compromising positions in karaoke rooms, on top of each other or like, half undressing each other, but it’s fine and it’s funny because Wonwoo is usually also in those photos, looking very unfazed. Geminis.
It’s better than Joshua’s nude photos accidentally taking stage when they’re like, cutting cake or introducing each other to Soonyoung’s dance studio friends, though. Jeonghan feels like he can finally breathe. Relax. Feel the tiniest sense of accomplishment.
Or at least he should.
“What’s up with you and Shua hyung?” Minghao asks, sliding over to where Jeonghan has planted himself by the life size Jenna game, hoping to hide subtly behind a block or two. Clearly, he has not been successful. “You guys are so distant. Usually you’re at least making weird, charged eye contact across the room if you’re not together. Did something happen?”
”It’s been fixed,” Jeonghan says weakly, and when he looks away from where he’d been admittedly watching Joshua like some kinda creepy stalker, Minghao is holding a second beer which Jeonghan accepts graciously. He loves his friends sometimes. “But like, yeah. I fucked up for a little.”
Minghao hums, the sound barely audible over the sound of the DJ starting to initiate a game of limbo. Jeonghan sort of feels like he’s at like, a wedding maybe, or one of those awful sixteenth birthdays you used to only ever see on TV.
He watches Seokmin shimmy over to the crowd gathering for limbo and tries very hard not to laugh. He thinks he still might be a little bit afraid of him.
”Does it have to do with work?” Minghao asks, genuine, taking a sip of his own drink before he frowns, watching as the game starts to unfold. In front of them, Seokmin and Mingyu are clinging to each other in lieu of some kind of pep talk. Typical.
“No, not work,” Jeonghan says. He turns to Minghao fully now, blocking out the game before it can really start. “Why? Did Joshua say something to you about work?”
“No,” Minghao says slowly. Jeonghan believes him because Minghao is not the type to lie, not for somebody else’s benefit or even his own. “You’ve just been spending a lot of time there, I figured it was worth a guess. What is it then?”
“No, Shua knows it’ll end soon, he’s cool about it. Work that is,” Jeonghan says. A SHINee song starts blasting over the speakers followed by Soonyoung’s voice suddenly ten times louder than normal. Someone gave him a microphone. Oh, god. Jeonghan continues, “To be honest? I lost his nudes. They got mixed in with the photos Wonu was supposed to use for the slideshow for this.”
Minghao laughs at that, just once, a real giggle. Not too impolite, obviously. “Is that why we’re knee deep in Mingyu’s camera roll right now?’
”Yes.” Jeonghan grimaces. “Remember Soonyoungie’s blue hair?”
”Yes.” Minghao’s turn to grimace. “It was heinous.”
“That’s what Shua said.” Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “Are you really not gonna question the whole—printed, naked photos thing?”
“I don’t really want to,” Minghao says, like it pains him. “I’m trying to know less about the intimate details of everyone’s life. Which is only half working, considering Soonyoungie uses our group chat like his personal diary.”
“It’s what keeps our friendship interesting,” Jeonghan says. He actually likes Soonyoung’s updates. They’re funny. “In any case, the pictures were old, anyway. Like, from college-old.”
”Vintage, cool. So you lost his nudes, he was pissed, and then you found them, and now he’s still pissed,” Minghao concludes. He peers over Jeonghan to get another look at the party, just as Chan does a full lunge in an attempt to slip under the limbo, successful when he comes out on the other side. Joshua cheers for him animatedly from the sidelines and Jeonghan finds it in him not to seethe. “Are you sure that’s it? Shua hyung is usually more reasonable than that.”
”Yes, I’m sure,” Jeonghan says. A bit snippy. Of course he’s sure; he’s the one dating Joshua. He knows him better than he knows himself sometimes. Nearly ten years, might he remind everyone. He knew Joshua back when he was—still lanky and thought that getting another ear piercing was the ultimate form of being an adult. “It’s just been a long week. We’re fine.”
”I wasn’t saying you’re not,” Minghao points out. He shrugs, holding his hands up and giving Jeonghan a face like it’s all in his head. Ugh. “Just making sure you guys are on the same-page-kinda-good.”
”Oh.” Jeonghan nods and then nearly downs his entire beer at once. Minghao looks at him like he’s actually more worried than he lets on. “Well, we are good. Thank you, Myungho-yah, but hyungie’s got it.”
”Okie dokie,” Minghao says. Jeonghan has never heard him say that in his life. He’s been spending way too much time with Mingyu. “I’m gonna go check out the cake toppers Wonu hyung got, then. I think they made Soonyoungie an actual tiger. I want to destroy it.”
Jeonghan snorts out a laugh, but it once again gets lost under the noise of the party—now Soonyoung doing the ending notes to whatever song is still playing. Jeonghan doesn’t know it all that well; he’ll have to ask Seungkwan.
“Good luck with that,” Jeonghan says, and then he’s gone, disappearing through the crowds dancing, dodging the limbo, to the cake.
Jeonghan huffs, alone again. He considers sinking back into the Jenga entirely, waiting here until Joshua gets him to leave.
Would he come and get Jeonghan, anyway, the evil, vaguely insecure voice in Jeonghan’s head asks. Or would Jeonghan have to like, get a ride with Chan and Seokmin or just—be stuck here all night with the party host who most definitely only replaced the USB because of Seungcheol, and absolutely hated Jeonghan?
God, he’s a mess. It’s been a long week, and a long few months, really, and he’s just—he’s so tired. He misses Joshua, the way they were, back before Jeonghan cared about work and promotions and real world shit. A mess, seriously.
He finishes up his drink, discarding it on a table behind him before heading over to where Joshua is, Junhui’s arms around him and Jihoon as they sway to whatever song the DJ is now playing as he wrestles the mic from Soonyoung’s hands. Jihoon looks less thrilled than Joshua to be under Junhui’s weight, but he still does not fight it; he likes Junhui too much for that and it is his birthday. It’s possible they’re all too good of friends.
“Who won limbo?” Jeonghan asks as he approaches, Junhui’s face lighting up with insane, drunken glee. Jeonghan is so glad they didn’t have to ruin his day with Joshua’s dick. He wouldn’t have deserved it.
“Hyung!” Junhui squawks, releasing Joshua and Jihoon to throw an arm around Jeonghan instead. “It was Channie, obviously. Clean sweep. You didn’t see?”
”No, I was—“ Kinda beginning a downward spiral. “Playing Jenga with Myungho.”
”Did you win?” Jihoon asks very sincerely and Jeonghan just waves a hand followed by an awkward laugh, turning to Chan instead.
”Congrats on the win, Chan-ah,” Jeonghan tells him. Chan positively beams. “Is there a prize for that?”
Soonyoung crashes through then, wearing a party hat sideways, mic now long forgotten. “Winner is doing body shots off Mingyu later. It was a unanimous vote.”
”Unamnious by who?” Mingyu pipes up from behind them. He’s still holding Seokmin, though he has real, genuine fear in his eyes. “I didn’t agree to that?”
“Isn’t your family here, Soonyoung-ah?” Joshua prompts, smiling very sweetly, very gently.
“Yeah, so?” Soonyoung shrugs. Joshua laughs, light and airy, mumbling something about how cute Soonyoung is. “My grandma would probably love Mingyu, anyway.”
”Yah, I did not agree—!”
The argument gets lost under the DJ mixing to a new song, one that gets everyone into it now, or well, everyone but Joshua, because when he goes to follow Seokmin further towards the dance floor, Jeonghan stops him with a lame tug of his hand, pulling him back.
“Hey,” Jeonghan says. He thinks he’s frowning a little. Not even on purpose or for like—pity, he just. Is.
“Hi,” Joshua returns, not as bubbly as usual, or sweet, or even deliciously mean, just flat. A bit cold.
”I haven’t seen you all night,” Jeonghan tells him.
“That’s because you were sulking in the Jenga.” Joshua rolls his eyes a bit. “We’re having fun.”
”I wasn’t sulking, it was—“ Jeonghan stops himself. He knows he kinda was. He takes a step closer, sliding his hand fully into Joshua’s now, who holds back just the tiniest bit looser than he normally might. It sort of makes Jeonghan feel like pulling his hair out, but he does not react, not poorly, not yet. “Shua. Are we good?”
Joshua looks at him for half a second like he wants to say something, really say something, mouth open, before it shuts again. He exhales one short breath, before he decides, “We’re good.”
Jeonghan looks around to make sure they’re still alone, or like, at least as alone as they can be in a party full of upwards of fifty guests. He spots Seungcheol strolling towards them with two brightly colored cocktails.
“Shua-yah, baby,” Jeonghan tries, but Joshua just squeezes his hand once before pulling away, offering a weak smile.
“I said we’re good, Jeonghan-ah,” he insists. “We’re not—let’s just enjoy the party. Ok? It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t feel fine, how can I—“
“Hey,” Seungcheol interrupts, stupidly, depositing one of the glasses in Joshua’s now waiting hands. “What’d I miss? How’s Jenga?”
”A real goddamn blast, Cheol,” Jeonghan deadpans. He looks between them, watching as they both have a taste of their drinks. “Hey. Where’s my drink?”
It takes Seungcheol approximately four whole seconds to stop sipping. “You didn’t ask for one,” he finally says.
“How was I supposed to ask when I was playing Jenga?”
”You could’ve texted me, I don’t know!” Seungcheol argues before he seems to snap out of it, shaking his head. “It’s open bar, what are you even—oh, my god, you’re annoying.”
At that, Joshua laughs, and it comes out genuine, and Jeonghan simultaneously wants to laugh with him and also cry. Instead, Jeonghan shoots him a look, betrayed, most likely resembling a kicked dog.
“He is,” Joshua agrees, letting out another evil laugh before he takes a hefty sip, pretty lips wrapped around the straw in a way that’s—well, maybe Jeonghan is just kind of a weirdo when it comes to Joshua, but.
“The both of you hate me,” Jeonghan says, just to actually show them what annoying is. They shrug. The traitors. “Introducing you two was the worst thing to happen to me.”
Seungcheol scoffs. ”That’s usually what half the friend group says about you two, actually.”
“Whatever,” Joshua brushes it off. He looks at Jeonghan, gaze a little sweeter, but not entirely so as he asks, “Are you coming? It’s almost time for cake.”
“Yes, I’m coming,” Jeonghan confirms with a huff. He’d follow Joshua anywhere, obviously. “Did anyone notice the slideshow Mingyu did, by the way? Have we all been taking it in?”
He gestures to the flat screen TVs planted around the room, the current photo being one of Junhui wearing a very realistic pair of cat ears from two Halloweens ago. There’s a ripple effect before it turns into a blurry one of Soonyoung standing in front of Jihoon’s apartment, flashing the middle finger.
“We saw it,” Joshua says over his shoulder. “I’m still not saying thank you, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”
And that’s sort of fair, Jeonghan supposes. At least he fixed it.
* * *
The party ends with a perfectly drunk Junhui and Soonyoung, and one very pleased Jeon Wonwoo, so it’s a success all around.
Or like, nearly all around, because Joshua has them drive two of Junhui’s coworkers back to Seoul, which means a semi-awkward ride home, filled with small talk, Seungcheol on aux, and not a single word between Joshua and Jeonghan. Or at least nothing private, anyway, nothing more than Joshua directing him back, and the subtle shove he gave Jeonghan when he made a joke about Wonwoo going into debt over for the amount he spent on the party.
Which is shitty because Jeonghan fixed it. In fact, Jeonghan is confident nobody saw the photos of Joshua, not even the venue staff who made the original slideshow, because their process seemed to be mindless, methodical, and all the other photos they had were hardly distinguishable, anyway. If anyone did happen to see them, see—Joshua like that, they could easily just like, pass it up, think it was just some funny lighting and not at all an actual nude. And that’s only if.
The box covered in surfing rabbits hits the kitchen table with a dull thud once they finally get home. It feels heavier than it did the last time Jeonghan had it, but maybe that’s just the weight of the week he’s carrying instead.
They didn’t say anything on the way in, or the way up, and now Jeonghan kinda feels like he might pop right out of his skin, itchy, uncomfortable, still feeling guilty and awful. Joshua, however, looks unbothered. His expression is neutral, and his movements are easy and careful, going about the apartment almost like Jeonghan isn’t even there. He opens the fridge for some water, flicks off the overhead light before he heads down the hall to their room, tugging off his sweater as he does, tossing it to land haphazardly on the dresser, Jeonghan just—wordlessly, pathetically following. Like he’s begging for Joshua to see him.
He watches as Joshua reaches for the bottom of his tee shirt before he pauses, finally turning to look at Jeonghan, mouth pressed into a straight line. He drops his hands.
“Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” he asks.
It’s not mean, but it’s not—it’s not him either. He doesn’t say it the way he normally might when Jeonghan gets carried away after he undresses him, spends too long admiring the lines and muscle of his body, making Joshua squirm a little under his gaze. Instead, it comes out flat, blunt, devoid of that flirty tilt of his voice that Jeonghan likes so much, that he craves so badly. Well.
“I am if you’re just gonna ignore me.” Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “Why are you ignoring me?”
Joshua sighs, body deflating as he turns to face Jeonghan completely. He puts a hand on the dresser as if to steady himself, leaning against it.
“I’m not ignoring you,” he says. Even though he like, most definitely sort of is. “I’m annoyed.”
“I get that,” Jeonghan tells him slowly. “You’ve been annoyed, I know. But I also—fixed the problem. Like, actually fixed it. The way I told you I would. Nobody saw anything.”
“I know that,” Joshua says, but there’s the slightest tightness in his voice, and he turns away to pull his jewelry off, avoiding eye contact again. He starts with the birthday watch, letting it land with an expensive sounding clink. It sounds shrill to Jeonghan’s ears. “Thank you for fixing it. Is that all you wanted? I shouldn’t have to—I mean, thanking you for fixing the problem you caused feels reductive.”
“I’m not looking for a thank you,” Jeonghan says. He takes a step closer, watches Joshua get down to the last ring on his finger, the one Jeonghan gave him for their fifth anniversary, twirls it around once, and then pause before he pulls it off completely. Which feels kinda like a win to Jeonghan, for some reason. “I just feel like there was something else. You’re acting all… y’know.”
Joshua looks at him like he does not know. Like he’s waiting for Jeonghan to tell him and inevitably make it worse. His eyes are wide, and expectant, and there’s the slightest downward curve to his lips that Jeonghan can’t help but notice.
“You’re not just upset with me because of the photos, I mean,” Jeonghan tries to explain, gently. “Can you—can we talk about it?”
“Now?” Joshua asks. He scoffs, the tiniest sound, really, but it feels wronged and a little unkind. “Is it the only free moment you have for me or something?”
“What are you—” Jeonghan stops. Thinks about it. Minghao before: does it have to do with work? Is that what this is all about? “Are you talking about me spending so much time in the office recently? You said you understand that. You have been understanding of that. How am I supposed to know you’re suddenly not any more?”
“It’s not just work, Jeonghan-ah,” Joshua says, and he sounds more upset than anything else now, heading towards the bed to take a seat on the edge with a loaded sigh. “It’s work, and then it’s the stupid fucking photos, and it’s—it’s you and me going on like, ten years, which is a long time, and it’s starting to feel like it’s too long a time.”
Jeonghan feels his heart sink, plummet right into his stomach. “What?” he asks. “Are you—is this not working or something for you all of a sudden? What are you—”
“It’s not that,” Joshua says, thank god, too, because Jeonghan is fairly certain he was like, four seconds away from ending up on a Most Wanted list if Joshua really did mean it that way. “It’s just. I mean, why did you seriously keep those photos of me? Did you like—look at them? Like, frequently?”
“No, why would I need to?” Jeonghan really didn’t. He honestly forgot they were in there. Winter break 2017, one time over the Summer before Joshua moved to Seoul for good, and that was it. “I have the real you!”
Joshua just groans, this time into his hands, curling in on himself a little. He looks small, and vulnerable, and suddenly a lot like the Joshua that Jeonghan knew way back when, ten years ago now, who still had a babier face and that too polite-just-sort-of-accented Korean. It makes Jeonghan’s heart ache.
“Shua,” he says. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s stupid,” Joshua says into his hands.
“It’s not,” Jeonghan assures him. He takes a step closer, but he doesn’t sit next to him yet, sort of feels like he still needs to give Joshua his space. “Not if it’s bothering you. Actually, nothing you ever say could be stupid. Obviously.”
Joshua looks up and gives him a wry smile. Jeonghan sort of feels his insides bloom.
“Thank you, but it is,” Joshua insists, but before Jeonghan can argue, he continues, “I thought you were like—getting tired of me. Physically, emotionally, or like, sexually. All of it?”
“What?” Jeonghan actually kinda yells. Truly shocked. A bit appalled. “For how long? I went on about wishing you’d use your muscles against me in bed for like, fifteen whole minutes last week. And all before I even left for work!”
“Not that long, just—” Joshua huffs. “It’s been a long week.”
“You’re telling me,” Jeonghan scoffs. Shocked and appalled and genuinely so very distraught. This is bad. So bad. “Baby, Shua-yah, my love—”
“Stop it, let me finish,” Joshua says, and so Jeonghan holds his hands up, zipping his lips to let Joshua continue. “It was the nudes that really set it all off. Because at first it was just annoying, and a little funny, but then I started thinking like, why does he still have them, anyway? Did you like me better then? You kept saying they were hot. And again, at first, it didn’t matter. It was funny. You being you. But then I started thinking more about it. I mean, I was definitely cooler then than I am now.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jeonghan gapes. “You were not—”
“I said let me finish.” Joshua rolls his eyes. “I thought I was cooler. I was getting—tattoos and outdrinking Seungcheol and like, sucking your dick in bathroom stalls—”
“For the record, I don’t like, entirely miss that part of it, those stalls were disgusting.”
“Jeonghan-ah.”
“Sorry, keep going.”
Joshua sucks in a breath and then does, “And like, last year we turned thirty. Which isn’t a big deal, but is sort of a big deal? And we didn’t—we didn’t do anything crazy. Which was fine. But then Wonu started planning for Junnie and Soonyoung, and I started thinking like, oh, why didn’t Jeonghannie do that for me? Why didn’t I do it for him? We used to always make a big deal of celebrating each other’s birthday. Were we both getting tired of each other? Is that why Jeonghan spends so much time at work now, just so he like, doesn’t have to see me so much? Just so it puts some distance between us?”
“Shua-yah—”
“And then,” Joshua continues, “when you had even remembered the nudes, it made it like, a million times worse. Because we were—half naked, and you were all over me, all over the stupid tattoo and like. You remembered then. Then of all times. When I had like, a whole hand on your dick. It made me—I felt. Old. And stupid.”
“Oh, no,” Jeonghan says, very gravely. He shakes his head, finally filling the empty spot next to Joshua. “No, no, no way, Shua, are you crazy?”
“I said it was stupid.”
“And I said it wouldn’t be, but that—Shua-yah, no, never.” Jeonghan is still shaking his head. “I love you now. I loved you ten years ago, and I loved you six months ago, and I’ll love you ten years in the future, too, and—and even beyond that. But I love you now. What the hell?”
“I know you do,” Joshua says. He sighs, goes to say something else, but this time it’s Jeonghan’s turn, because he’s actually been a dick, this whole situation went right over his head, and this, this is what he’s been meant to fix the whole time.
“I love you now,” he says again. Annunciates it very clearly so that there can’t be any confusion. “I love how good of a listener you are when I complain about my bad days. I love that you know exactly how to make the bad days better. I love that you’re a little mean to me sometimes, but only ever jokingly, only in a way that’s like we’ve been doing this forever, and I love that it feels like it has been forever sometimes. I love that you loved me ten years ago and still do. I love that you’ve known me since I was willing to get my dick sucked in a bathroom stall. I love that you’re thirty. I love that you make fun of me when my knees pop when I stand. That’s old, Shua.”
“It’s not,” Joshua tells him. He’s smiling a little, much more genuine than he had been at any other point tonight, eyes a little watery, a little sparkly. “We’re not even old.”
“I know,” Jeonghan says. No matter what Chan might insist, he does know. “But I also love the idea of actually getting old with you.”
“God, Yoon Jeonghan,” Joshua mumbles, reaching out to push Jeonghan’s hair out of his face, tucking a bit behind his ears. “You never used to be this mushy.”
“You bring out the worst in me, what can I say?” Jeonghan jokes, and that makes Joshua laugh, so Jeonghan feels a pang of victory, squashing the ugly, vile feelings that had settled in his stomach previously. “And you know I really do mean it, right? How much I love you.”
“I know,” Joshua says, a bit reluctantly. “And I know it was stupid, but—”
“It’s only stupid I didn’t notice it sooner,” Jeonghan says. He slides a hand into Joshua’s, thumb swiping over the back of his hand. Smooth. Warm. Tugs Jeonghan back down to Earth like a familiar, welcomed anchor. “I’m so sorry. Sorry I wasn’t seeing how it all came across to you, sorry I’ve been—a work obsessed freak. I need to work on balancing things. Balancing things that have to do with you.”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” Joshua says, a bit playfully. “But I also do understand. I know work and the promotion is important, I just—whatever. Blame the scenario I made up in my head.”
“Could never blame anything in your head, ever,” Jeonghan says, because he does mean it, but he’s also trying to make Joshua laugh again, finds it very, very dire that he does, actually.
Joshua does laugh again—score—and then he lets Jeonghan scoot even closer, allowing the chastest of kisses pressed once to his too soft, always soft lips. Jeonghan missed him.
“Shua-yah,” Jeonghan says, and they’re still close so Jeonghan kisses him again, swallows down the affirmative Joshua hums out when they’re molded together. “Did you know I—I remembered the nudes that night because I was thinking about how much I loved you. Serious.”
“Jeonghan-ah,” Joshua says, flat. He sounds like he doesn’t believe him. Which is like, understandable, Jeonghan guesses. It sort of sounds like something he’d say just to make Joshua laugh a little more. But unfortunately a lot of Jeonghan’s sincerity is rooted in ridiculousness and Joshua knows that, too.
“No, I mean it,” Jeonghan whines a little. He kisses Joshua again because he lets him, slower this time, a hand to his jaw, a thumb across his cheek, a tiny sigh into it. “The day you gave me them. You don’t remember what else happened?”
Joshua hums into another kiss, lets Jeonghan slowly tip them back onto the mattress, still connected. He really, really missed him.
“I don’t,” Joshua says, which would sting in any other context, maybe, but Jeonghan sort of has something to prove right now, and plus—Joshua’s just slid his leg to settle somewhere between Jeonghan’s, pushed up for the slightest pressure, and like, he has to get this out before a moan makes way instead.
“That’s when I told you I loved you for the first time,” Jeonghan says. He leans up, fixes Joshua with a rather smug look, straddling a thigh. Should they have spoken a little bit more before they cut to this part? It’s probably fine. Jeonghan’s sincerity is rooted in ridiculousness and greedy hands. “And you said it back.”
Joshua’s expression gets softer then, like he can just tell Jeonghan is telling the truth, because he wouldn’t lie about something like that, how could he? He sits up a little.
“You remember that?”
“Of course I do,” Jeonghan nods. He reaches down to slide a hand under Joshua’s tee shirt, thumb rubbing against his hipbone. Joshua, thank god, does not flinch, or pull away, and life is good. “I was so scared then. I remember. But you made it easy. It’s always been easy loving you.”
“Mushy, so mushy, oh, my god,” Joshua says, groans kinda, like it really does distress him. He leans up to kiss him again, lips, tongue, teeth, sweet. “Leave it to you to associate a photo of me naked with the first time I said I love you.”
“It’s not my brain making the association if it’s how it actually happened,” Jeonghan points out. He slides a hand up further into Joshua’s shirt, settles at the usual tattoo on his side as he adds, “And I like your tattoos because they’re on you. Not because they make me—think of our early twenties. I actually wouldn’t wanna remember back then, anyway. My stroke game was shit.”
“It was perfectly average,” Joshua tells him, dipping his head back a little once Jeonghan attaches his lips to his neck, biting just the tiniest bit. He continues, “But scenario in my head, remember? I thought you liked it because it was like—old me.”
“Stupid and beautiful and so stupid. Did you also envision a scenario in your head in which I make you forget about the previous one by like,” Jeonghan slides a hand over to his chest, giving himself a self indulgent squeeze, “putting my mouth wherever you let me before I fuck you like, crazy, super good?”
“No,” Joshua says, barely concealing a laugh, running a hand through Jeonghan’s hair when he ducks down to push Joshua’s top up, mouth at the newly exposed skin instead. “Because that was corny. And sex doesn’t solve everything, Yoon Jeonghan.”
“You like me corny most of the time,” Jeonghan reminds him. “And I know that. But we had a nice talk and I already started brainstorming ways to stay on track for my promotion, while also coming home at a normal time to spend time with you. Didn’t that solve it?”
“Thinking of ways to excel at work while you’re very subtly trying to get off using my thigh,” Joshua sings. “What exactly are you into, Jeonghan-ssi?”
“You,” Jeonghan says, because it’s easier than defending himself, though he does lean up, admittedly already a little hard in his jeans. He tilts his head. “So?”
Joshua sighs, like it’s a hassle, like the very existence of Yoon Jeonghan wears him out, which very much might not even be a lie. Despite that, he does them both a favor, though, peeling his shirt off, tossing it somewhere to be dealt with later, fixing Jeonghan with a very specific look, one that Jeonghan knows well.
Go on, it says. Do your worst, because you’re just so in love with me, because you know I love you back, because we’re both kinda stupid about all this sometimes and I hope it lasts forever.
“That’s what I figured,” Jeonghan says, a bit of a douche, but Joshua probably likes it, anyway, likes any and all Jeonghan’s, or at least the ones who are here, who see him, who know him better than he knows himself.
Which is the Jeonghan that he is, most times, anyway. Which he will be, going forward. He swears. He fixed it, so now he’ll keep it that way.
“I love you,” he says, again, just for good measure. Just because it’s been ten years, and he still is saying it, he’ll never get tired of saying it.
“I know,” Joshua says. “I love you back.”
And in all his years of knowing Joshua, there really isn’t anyone like him, Jeonghan thinks. Really.
—
LATER, PRESENT DAY
DECEMBER
“Stop squirming,” Joshua says. He reaches out to pinch Jeonghan’s bare thigh, much stronger than Jeonghan anticipates. He lets out a weak ow, that Joshua ignores, leaning up a little further. “It’s gonna come out blurry if you’re squirming.”
“I wouldn’t be squirming so much if you weren’t—naked and on top of me,” Jeonghan says. He frowns, just at the same time that Joshua snaps a photo, and then he settles his weight a little bit while he looks at it, and giggles. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”
“But you did because you love me and you like the actual idea of it more than you let on,” he says. Annoying. Joshua turns his phone then in what Jeonghan assumes is an attempt to let him see it, but he’s moving too much and Jeonghan is far too tired to actually try. “You look sad.”
“I’m not sad,” Jeonghan corrects him. He moves to pinch Joshua back, but Joshua swats his hand away before he can, and Jeonghan lets it fall to the bed, defeated. “Are you done yet? We’ve hardly even tapped into all the sex we said we’d be having here.”
“Almost. I’m really trying to get your good side,” Joshua says, and then he angles his phone a bit differently than he previously had, tapping twice before he hums, somewhat pleased. “I’m not sure you have one.”
“Yah,” Jeonghan huffs, reaching up to take the phone from Joshua again, successful now when he catches him off guard. He holds it at an arm lengths away, which Joshua could easily reach if he tried, but instead he just makes a face, settling his hands somewhere along Jeonghan’s torso, light in a way that Jeonghan knows is Joshua purposely not trying to crush him. What a saint. “I think you got enough.”
“Says you,” Joshua mumbles, but he rolls over and flops into the empty space next to Jeonghan, lets him lock Joshua’s phone and discard it, tossing it somewhere towards the edge of the massive hotel bed they’ve got. “I was going for variety. There’s an art form to naked photos, Yoon Jeonghan. Seriously.”
“You’d know better than anyone,” Jeonghan says, stupid, and then Joshua scoots impossibly closer and lets Jeonghan just kinda—cling to him, absorb up all his body heat like the greedy little weirdo that he is. “I hope you know I’m only letting you take those because it’s your birthday, by the way. That’s the gift.”
“You let me take them because you’d let me do anything if I ask nicely,” Joshua points out. He doesn’t even sound smug. Like it’s just a fact. Which is true, but. “Also, that was the gift? What do you call the weeklong vacation we’ve been on? I don’t feel like leaving, by the way. You’ve created a monster.”
“This is a joint reward, not a gift,” Jeonghan says, because he did finally make that promotion—all while actually setting boundaries and keeping work at work, only during normal, office hours—and he did promise himself a vacation after all of it, and December seemed to be the perfect time for it. Joshua’s birthday, a brief escape from the holidays; it made sense. “Let’s not leave, then. We can stay here. In this bed. I’ll let you take as many nudes of me as you want.”
Joshua hums, like he’s really considering it. One of his hands is in Jeonghan’s hair, fingertips just barely brushing against his scalp, but it feels good, the best Jeonghan’s felt in a while. Maybe they should stay here.
There’s a beat. Jeonghan could fall asleep probably, but they do have dinner reservations later tonight, and they should probably be getting up soon. Plus, “What are you gonna do with those photos of me, anyway?”
“Nothing,” Joshua says. He laughs, and Jeonghan feels it thrum through him from where he’s still pressed against Joshua’s chest. “I didn’t actually even take any, I was just watching you wiggle around through the lens. Duh. We learned our lesson with those last time, I think.”
“You’re cruel,” Jeonghan tells him. Because Joshua was making him hold poses for like, at least ten whole minutes. The bastard. “And here I thought you were going to print them out and accidentally give them to like, Seokminnie when it came time to celebrate his birthday.”
Joshua reaches around him to pinch Jeonghan again, this time getting his elbow. “Fuck you, don’t joke,” he swears. “Especially not Seokminnie. He doesn’t need to see that.”
“I’d argue that none of our friends need to see it.”
“True,” Joshua muses, and then he moves them so Jeonghan’s flat on his back again, back into his own pile of pillows, and Joshua slides into his space, half on top of him. He’s so pretty. Jeonghan will never get tired of just—looking at him. “You know what might be kinda hot, though?”
“What?” Jeonghan settles his hands somewhere along Joshua’s back, wiggling his fingers a little just to see the way it makes Joshua kinda squirm, ticklish. “You finally letting me fuck your chest?”
“Jeonghan-ah.”
“What, oh, my god.” Jeonghan feigns a scandalized look. “Who said that?”
“I hate you,” Joshua says, and then he leans up, stretching his arms over his head, and Jeonghan watches, stupidly entranced, because he loves him, he has for ten years and he will for like, a gazillion more. Then, “No. I was gonna say a sex tape. Less amateur than nudes. Bigger file to accidentally lose, too.”
Jeonghan actually laughs at him, because Joshua Hong is ridiculous, it's sort of unfortunate that Jeonghan likes him so much.
“Less amateur,” Jeonghan repeats. “Who even are you?”
“I know you kinda wanna, don’t lie,” Joshua teases. He pokes into Jeonghan’s cheek, just to be a pain. “We’re going on ten years this year, Jeonghan-ah. Don’t you wanna keep our spark alive?”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes, trapping Joshua’s hand with his own before he pulls away completely, tugging him back towards him.
“I think you just say a bunch of shit and hope it sticks sometimes,” he says. Fondly. So fond.
“Maybe,” Joshua allows. He shrugs, expression still completely serious. “Are you saying you’re not in?”
And Jeonghan would probably agree to anything Joshua asked of him as long as he asked nicely, or even if he didn’t ask nicely, he’d probably still agree then. It should be embarrassing, maybe. How much Jeonghan loves him, how much he just wants to do for him, always. Or at least it would be if Joshua didn’t want to do everything for him right back. Ten years will do that to you. Ten years is a long time.
(Thank god.)
“I didn’t say that,” Jeonghan says, sighs, too, tries to make it seem like he’s all vexed, can’t really even be bothered, though they both know it’s a lie, they both know each other better than they know anyone else. “I think you’re kinda scary, though. You’re really lucky I love you.”
“I know that,” Joshua says, and he does know, of course he does, he’ll know forever now. “I love you back.”
(Thank god.)