Chapter Text
Seungcheol wonders when it became like this, when one single sentence from Jeonghan gained the ability to make him do things.
Things like cancelling his train ticket to Daegu. Like calling home and telling his mom that he might not be coming home this Christmas because he’s going to be quite busy (read: entertaining Yoon Jeonghan).
But then, he figures he’s been like this since the first time he met Jeonghan, when the latter’s hair was still dyed bleach blonde, when he caught Seungcheol’s attention amongst the crowd of students at university.
Maybe even then he knew he wouldn’t be able to see the rest of his life without the other male by his side.
Maybe even then he’d been like he is now: hopelessly pining, always dreaming of him and Jeonghan being something more. These dreams seemed to come whenever, especially in situations with white blankets, wrinkled bed sheets, a warm head on his arm, gentle snores as Jeonghan slept. And the loud sounds of his own thoughts filling the room.
Maybe it’s always been like this.
It’s still like this, Seungcheol thinks. He turns off his phone with a sigh – he’d apologise to his mother for his absence at Christmas dinner later. The blankets chafe against his morning wood but Seungcheol settles for shifting slightly so that Jeonghan’s head wouldn’t be lying on his all-too-noticeable bulge and would rest somewhere on his thigh instead.
He breathes a sigh into the morning air. Every time he wakes up with Jeonghan it feels like this, something out of a dream, something that is real but unreal because him and Jeonghan – they just aren’t like that.
(No matter how much he hopes, they probably never will be.)
Seungcheol rubs his eyes. Snap out of it, Choi Seungcheol.
“Jeonghan-ah.” He calls instead, voice raspy with sleep. “Wake up.”
“Mm…” Jeonghan makes a throaty sound, rolling left so that his face is buried in Seungcheol’s chest. This entire scene is so domestic it makes Seungcheol’s heart ache.
“Yah, Hannie,” Seungcheol resorts to the nicknames, because they always work on Jeonghan (they always work, especially paired with a gentle nip on the ear and a rasp in Seungcheol's voice), “wake up, angel.” He hears a groan, and the blankets shuffle. The warmth disappears from his chest, and Seungcheol watches in amusement as Jeonghan slowly rolls off the bed. He’d been shocked the first time but then the blankets heaped around the bed had made a lot more sense. Now he’s used to it, the way Jeonghan falls (somehow gracefully) off the bed and with a slight “oomph” into the pile of blankets. Seungcheol scoffs a bit. He can't believe he likes this complete child.
“Morning.” Seungcheol hears the other male mumble. He chuckles, sitting up so that the blankets pool around his bare waist.
“Get some clothes on, it’s cold.” Jeonghan shoots him a pointed look, followed by a suggestive one – they’re both as naked as the day they were born and Seungcheol's morning wood stands tall and proud against the cold morning breeze with only a thin layer of blanket as a shield.. Seungcheol ignores both looks. “I’ll go make you breakfast.” Jeonghan forms an ‘okay’ sign with his fingers, picking up a pair of boxers and a shirt from the floor and traipsing towards the bathroom. Seungcheol frowns. That shirt was definitely too big for Jeonghan, which meant it definitely was Seungcheol's.
“Stop stealing my clothes!” He yells. He hears a muffled snort; shakes his head even though the edge of his lips can’t help but curl up into a tiny, fond smile. “Thief.”
Seungcheol scans the room before realizing that the only article of clothing that remains, slung over a chair, is his sweatpants. If he remembers correctly, yesterday Jeonghan had flopped onto his bed very literally straight after he took a shower (which really meant he had flopped onto Seungcheol’s bed naked and wet, soaking through the blankets). So if his boxers aren’t in the room anymore, it would mean the other male had taken them too. Which means Jeonghan’s currently putting on his boxers without a care in the world. Even though they have sex on the regular, just the thought of Jeonghan wearing his boxers makes him flush a bit.
Seungcheol pulls on his sweatpants and heads to the kitchen.
Normally, Jeonghan likes to have eggs and bacon for breakfast. But if the night before had been a rough night (read: he and Seungcheol had had sex), the ideal breakfast menu was pancakes or waffles topped with a nauseating amount of maple syrup and whipped cream. It’s strange but it’s Jeonghan, so Seungcheol doesn’t question it.
It’s a routine by now, the way Seungcheol ladles the pancake mix into the pan, fetches the cat-patterned plate Jeonghan likes, pours some orange juice into Jeonghan’s white mug (Seungcheol’s mug, really, but he’d let Jeonghan assume ownership of it at some point). Jeonghan hasn’t emerged from the kitchen yet, and the last pancake is still cooking gently in the pan. Seungcheol closes his eyes, wonders if this is what domestic bliss feels like.
“Honestly,” Seungcheol turns to see his roommate Jihoon slumped against the doorframe, “it’s the middle of winter and you’re wearing, what? Boxers and sweatpants?”
“Only sweatpants, actually.” The judgemental look on Jihoon’s face intensifies.
“You’re disgusting.” He says, grabbing a bowl and knocking the box of Fruit Loops off the edge of the shelf, tossing it back on after he’s done. Seungcheol watches in part fascination and part concern as Jihoon pops open a can of coffee and proceeds to pour its contents into his cereal bowl.
“That coming from the person who thinks eating coffee with cereal is socially acceptable." Jihoon flips the bird at him and leaves for the couch.
“Cheollie!” Jeonghan waltzes in just as Jihoon has settled on the sofa, decked in only Seungcheol’s shirt and boxers.
(“You guys are both disgusting.” Seungcheol thinks he hears Jihoon say.)
“You made breakfast!” Seungcheol swats him gently on the head for stating the obvious as he puts the last pancake onto the plate.
“Help yourself. Whipped cream and maple syrup are in the fridge.”
“Oh honey, you treat me so well.” Jeonghan coos, saccharine and sweet as he takes the plate from Seungcheol. Seungcheol knows he’s joking but Jihoon still sends him a raised eyebrow over his bowl of cereal. He watches as Jeonghan carefully spritzes the whipped cream onto his stack of pancakes with a pout, then attempts to squirt the maple syrup over it all in an aesthetically pleasing manner. He fails, because the maple syrup bottle just lets out a disappointing noise (very much reminiscent of a fart) as the last tiny glob of the golden syrup falls out of the container and with a tiny 'plop' onto the whipped cream.
"Cheollie!" Jeonghan shakes the bottle in frustration. It's adorable. "There's no more maple syrup!"
"We can go get some. You only have classes in the afternoon, and I don't have classes today at all, so we can go grocery shopping now."
Jeonghan practically shovels the entire stack of pancakes into his mouth in his haste, mumbling what sounds like "I'm gonna go get changed first" before running to Seungcheol's bedroom with his mouth still full.
"Is there anything you want us to get?" Seungcheol asks as he puts Jeonghan's used fork and plate into the sink with a resigned sigh and fetching some post-its and a pen to jot down a shopping list.
"Mm, maybe."
"Yah, Choi Seungcheol! Hurry up or I'm taking your favourite hoodie!" A sudden shout from the bedroom has Seungcheol looking up immediately.
"I'm coming! Give me a sec!" He replies, deliberating whether or not to start writing, pen poised awkwardly in the air.
“Aish. You guys are so fucking married. I'll write the shopping list, now go take care of your husband before he steals your entire closet away.” Jihoon dismisses him with a wave of his hand, and Seungcheol has half a mind to stay before he remembers he keeps some rather interesting items in his closet (read: sex toys) that he doesn’t want Jeonghan to find. They were friends with benefits, but there were some things about his bed activities that Seungcheol did want to keep hidden.
Fortunately, Jeonghan has only commandeered one hoodie (unfortunately it's Seungcheol's favourite one but he'll concede because it looks good on Jeonghan) and a parka of his but he spends a good minute forcing a shirt and then a knitted sweater onto Seungcheol, deeming it enough because “you’re practically a volcano, Cheollie”.
When they return to the living room Jihoon’s gone, a shopping list scribbled hastily on a yellow post-it in his place. (Jeonghan pouts all the way to the supermarket when he realizes whipped cream is not on the list.)
They’re a box of frozen pizza and two cans of whipped cream into their shopping when Jeonghan decides to drop the inevitable, annual, Night Before Christmas request.
“By the way, I know a guy that’s holding a party tonight.”
“And?” Seungcheol questions, but he already knows what Jeonghan’s going to say. Every year he knows what Jeonghan’s going to say, and every year it always ends the same way.
“We’re going!” The other male says with a bright smile, wide eyes – it’s the same expression he’s pulled every time he’s actually has to convince Seungcheol to do something (mostly, Seungcheol just goes along with anything Jeonghan wants – how could he deny him anything?).
“Alright.” Arguing with Jeonghan is futile, especially when Seungcheol is so weak to the satisfied smile that forms on the other male’s face when Seungcheol acquiesces, like a cat that has gotten the cream. As if Seungcheol would ever say no to him.
Then the discussion is clearly over as Jeonghan pulls the sleeve of Seungcheol’s sweater, saying something about discounted eggnog.
Unsurprisingly, they had met at a party.
Seungcheol can never quite remember whose party it was and what it was for – the only details that stand out in his mind about that night are bright lights, loud music, and Jeonghan.
He can remember exactly what the other male was wearing, a leather jacket and a tank top even in the heat of bodies pressed too close together, with ripped jeans and black boots to top it all off. His mahogany hair had been scooped up into a messy bun, several loose strands lying on his shoulders. Three steps closer had granted Seungcheol the blessed ability of seeing even the glitter scattered on his defined collarbones.
Originally he'd gravitated towards the other male to pick him up - obviously, since there weren't many other things to do when you saw someone so drop-dead gorgeous in front of you. Seungcheol had made sure the way he grinded his hips into the other male's was anything but subtle. There weren't many other ways to read the way Seungcheol had pushed their bodies together, full of intention and insistence. He had tucked a strand of stray hair behind the other male's shoulder before leaning in.
"Your name?" Seungcheol had whispered into Jeonghan's ear, his voice deep, the voice that he knew made panties and boxers alike drop.
"Jeonghan." The other male had murmured back, smiling sweetly up at him. That was when Seungcheol knew he'd want more than just a one-night stand.
They'd fallen - not into bed, but into conversation, which seemed to flow as easy as water when it came to Jeonghan. He could entertain as well as he could listen, and under that thoughtful, knowing smile, Seungcheol had become enraptured.
Somehow, somewhere between the beats of the music, they had exchanged numbers, Jeonghan's tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he had typed in Hannie the Angel as his contact name. Even then there had been a certain familiarity and closeness to the way Jeonghan had treated him that would always make Seungcheol inevitably want more.
Seungcheol hadn't got any that night, but he'd made what he could tentatively call a friend.
Yet another not-so-shocking fact – the first time they’d fallen into bed together was because of a party. This party, Seungcheol remembers (for some reason he'd only started remembering the parties after he'd met Jeonghan), was held at Soonyoung's place. It was the sort of party everyone knew and everyone attended, which made sense - Soonyoung was the kind of guy everyone knew and liked. The party was filled members of the dance team, members of Soonyoung's study groups, people of all kinds. Somewhere between the second and tenth shots their lips had found each other’s, Jeonghan’s hands had found Seungcheol’s hair and Seungcheol’s hands had found their place resting on Jeonghan’s waist.
Jeonghan's lips were just as Seungcheol had imagined. There was no way to describe that mesmerizing, enticing taste - clean like soap but sweet like honey, and had an addictiveness that no drug could imitate. The connection of their lips had fireworks exploding behind Seungcheol's eyes, hot and vibrant.
Are you sure you want to do this with him?
Seungcheol had seen all the warning signs, yet he had chosen to press against Jeonghan even firmer, licking insistently at his bottom lip, intertwining his tongue with Jeonghan's. Savouring the taste of the other male on his tongue, thinking that it would be the first and last time he would experience this paradise.
This could ruin everything.
Jeonghan's skin was even paler under his clothes. Flushed and naked on the white sheets, Jeonghan looked like an ethereal angel.
"Beautiful." Seungcheol had whispered under his breath. If Jeonghan had heard him, he hadn't shown it, simply writhed in impatience as Seungcheol shucked off his tight jeans and v-necked tank top.
Crawling on top of Jeonghan, he had taken a moment - a very brief moment, but a precious one nonetheless - to simply admire the way Jeonghan looked splayed against his sheets, the dazed look in his eyes; his fingers, clutching futilely at thin air for something to hold onto. Seungcheol had lowered himself, guided Jeonghan's hands to his biceps, and relished in the way the other male had let out a gentle sigh, as if touching Seungcheol had taken a weight off his chest.
"Hannie-yah," he had said, and Jeonghan had given him a tiny nod of acknowledgement, "tell me if you don't want this. Tell me if you don't want this anymore. Okay?" Seungcheol stilled until Jeonghan gave another few nods, a plead for Seungcheol to hurry up spilling out of his lips.
Seungcheol had found out a lot of things about Jeonghan that night. There was something precious in the way he whimpered whenever Seungcheol nipped gently at the nape of his neck, the way he moaned helplessly whenever his sensitive nipples were thumbed at. Truly, he was an angel - something to be adored.
When he reached completion inside Jeonghan, Seungcheol knew even in his brain the look on his face - the way he looked at Jeonghan like he had hung the stars, the moon and the sun onto the sky. Maybe Jeonghan's eyes had been closed because he knew. Jeonghan had always had a sixth sense for these kinds of things, even though Seungcheol knew from personal experience that he always chose not to say some things out loud for the sake of keeping the peace.
You've ruined everything.
It had been passionate, sweet, rough – everything at once.
No matter how he tried, even as he fell asleep by Jeonghan's side with the fear of their friendship being completely ruined, Seungcheol could not find it in himself to regret what he and Jeonghan had done.
Then they had woken up the next day, stayed friends, not talked about it, then had proceeded to fall back into bed with each other on multiple occasions.
Seungcheol had been relieved, to say the least. Everything about him and Jeonghan stayed the same, except that sometimes Seungcheol got to lie with Jeonghan in bed, curl his arms around the other male and wish to the gods that he could call Jeonghan his.
But at the same time, it hurt a little, to know that Jeonghan could slip into Seungcheol's bed so easily and still keep the same label of 'friends' on the both of them without feeling anything. Because Seungcheol certainly felt something - even now he wishes, a little bit, that he had done something, confessed, bare himself to Jeonghan, because sometimes being just friend with benefits feels a little suffocating.
But it's something that Seungcheol can't not have, not if he wants to stay by Jeonghan's side. And he wants to stay. He would stay forever, if Jeonghan would allow.
'Friends with benefits' was what Jeonghan had dubbed their situation. Seungcheol had nodded along, always placating, though in his head there was no way Seungcheol could and can call it that. In his mind there’s no label that fits them and their friendship, the domesticity, the sex, the way it sometimes seem to veer off into something a bit romantic.
But it isn’t.
It’s a bit hard to think about it, sometimes. Especially in times like this, when it’s Christmas Eve, early night, and Jeonghan’s in Seungcheol’s room, carefully and deliberately looking through the items in the latter’s closet to pull together a perfect outfit for the party for him, as he does before every party.
“In case you want to go pick up anyone else.” Jeonghan always says.
“I guess.” Seungcheol always replies even as his heart thuds to the bottom of his chest. But I only want you.
The words never quite manage to make it out of his mouth, out of his mind. Even when he ushers them both into the party, his hand firm on the small of Jeonghan's back, head peering over his shoulder.
As usual, Jeonghan manages to spot someone he knows from across the crowd and his face lights up.
"I'll be back in a bit. Don't miss me!" Jeonghan says over his shoulder. Seungcheol replies with an amused "I won't" even though he knows he'll just stand in a corner and nurse his drink until Jeonghan returns. He stares at Jeonghan's back until it disappears into the crowd.
He sighs, takes a big swig of his drink.
"Hi. You're Seungcheol, right? Jihoon's roommate?" Seungcheol only realises the voice is talking to him when it mentions his name, and nearly spits out the liquid in his mouth and spills the drink in his hand in his haste to turn around. The guy who's standing there is a smiley-eyed young man - Seungcheol can't remember his name, only knows that he's one of the guys who plays Overwatch with Jihoon.
"Minhyuk?" He says tentatively, and receives a bright nod in return.
"How's it going with your boyfriend?"
"Boyfriend?" Seungcheol asks. He doesn't have one. Why would Minhyuk ask about it, anyway?
"Jeonghan." Minhyuk clarifies; his smile doesn't falter in the slightest. Seungcheol almost frowns. Why would Minhyuk ask about Jeonghan? Is he interested?
He can't be, because Jeonghan's mine, Seungcheol thinks before he can stop himself. No. Jeonghan isn't yours. He's your friend, your fuckbuddy, your everything, but he isn't yours.
Stop overreacting. Stop being possessive over things you don't have.
Get it together, Choi Seungcheol
"Ah, Jeonghan..." Seungcheol smiles, but he knows it looks fake and awkward even from an outsider's perspective (at least his inner turmoil is masked), "he isn't my boyfriend." He doesn't ask how Minhyuk knows about it. Maybe from Jihoon, but it doesn't seem like something his roommate would do. Maybe Minhyuk's asking because he likes Jeonghan. His heart gives a possessive squeeze, and Seungcheol doesn't know why. Jeonghan isn't even his. Jeonghan isn't his.
"He isn't your boyfriend?" Minhyuk says, eyeing him skeptically. Seungcheol sighs.
"I wish." He says before he can stop himself. Thankfully, Minhyuk just lets out a sympathetic sigh, patting him on the back and curling an arm over his shoulder. Seungcheol's glad the other male doesn't look relieved.
"Seungcheol-ah!" Seungcheol's head snaps up at the sound of Jeonghan's voice. It's tinged with a sharp, negative note but Seungcheol can't quite place it. Minhyuk scoffs a little and Seungcheol's face colours. He knows he's completely whipped for Jeonghan, a fact he's long come to terms with, but it's still a bit embarrassing.
"Sorry! Saw Jimin and his boyfriend, had to go say hi. Who are you?" Jeonghan sounds a little testy as he looks over him and Minhyuk, maybe due to the influence of alcohol. He could be jealous, Seungcheol can't help but think. It's definitely not true but he still wants to hope.
"Minhyuk. It's nice to meet you." Jeonghan shakes the proffered hand before turning to Seungcheol, wrapping his fingers around the latter's wrist and pulling.
"It's hot in here, let's go out for a bit."
They wander into the backyard; Seungcheol falls back onto the grass, legs spread, and Jeonghan takes that as an opportunity to collapse onto his lap. They play-wrestle a little as Seungcheol tries to remove Jeonghan from his lap. In the end they both fall back onto the cut grass, Jeonghan lying with his head and torso situated comfortably on Seungcheol's chest, their foreheads lined with sweat.
Seungcheol closes his eyes, hums to some nonsensical tune as Jeonghan scrolls through his phone with one hand, the other hand reaching back to play with Seungcheol's hair. A soft tune begins to play.
When I was just a little girl I asked my mother: what I will be?
"An oldie?" Jeonghan hums, getting to his feet.
"Dance with me?" Seungcheol takes the hand Jeonghan holds out, assuming the classic ballroom dancing pose - his hand on Jeonghan's waist, the other holding Jeonghan's right hand.
Jeonghan smiles at him, hair falling out of his messily-tied bun and drooping over his eyes. It feels like the first time Seungcheol saw him across the dance floor and had immediately been entranced. Like a spell, almost.
Almost shyly, Seungcheol interlaces their fingers, letting Jeonghan lead them in swaying to the beat of the music.
Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Here's what she said to me.
Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.
“The future's not ours to see.” Jeonghan hums casually, lifting Seungcheol’s arm up so he can twirl into Seungcheol’s chest, smiling up at him in a way that looks strangely bittersweet. Seungcheol's probably imagining things, but the look in his eyes is a little like longing.
He's definitely imagining things.
“Jeonghan?”
The other male seems to snap out of whatever daze he’s in at the sound of his own name. Seungcheol tries to catch his eye, but Jeonghan turns.
“Let's go back in."
The first time Jeonghan disappears Seungcheol is extremely alarmed.
They'd been not-quite friends, not-quite fuck buddies then, just two people drifting every now and then into each other's space (more often it was Jeonghan finding Seungcheol in the strangest of times).
His last text to Jeonghan hadn't been read, and god, even anyone who didn't really know Jeonghan knew that he checked his phone a million times a day. Seungcheol's mind had wandered back to his most recent interactions with the other male, wondering if he'd done something wrong.
Seungcheol hadn't been able to sleep that night, his mind vividly searching for a reason, an answer. He came up with nothing, his brain only producing more and more far-fetched possibilities.
Even now, Seungcheol can't recall how or when he fell asleep, somewhere between the obscene hours of one and three, perhaps, something utterly ridiculous.
His doorbell had rang at five am in the morning.
Seungcheol remembers. Pushing back his blankets, dragging his feet out of bed. Pulling his hood over his head - it had been a freezing winter night but still he had only worn a hoodie and a pair of boxers to bed. Trailing his feet over the cold floor, shivering. Peering through the keyhole, seeing a flash of blonde hair. Then opening the door as fast as possible, ignoring the sand in Jeonghan's messy hair, long and shining a pale gold then, ignoring his wet clothes and pulling him in for a hug.
Seungcheol had forced Jeonghan into the bathroom for a hot shower, making him a hot chocolate and coaxing him under the covers and into bed. Cuddled him a while before asking why he'd left.
"Nothing. I just feel like leaving, sometimes." To be free, Jeonghan didn't say, but Seungcheol had read the look in his eyes and he had known.
Still knows.
He'd found the train tickets everywhere - between a book of his Jeonghan had been reading, in the pocket of his worn leather jacket, in his pencil case. The destinations always varied, but they were usually always away from the hustle and bustle of the city, the crowds and the noise.
(One time Seungcheol had dreamed of accompanying Jeonghan. He can't remember what he dreamt of, only Jeonghan's hand in his and the feeling of cool wind against his face, water and sand between his toes.)
Every time Jeonghan leaves Seungcheol feels like a lost puppy waiting for its master to come home, never knowing if its master was thinking of it, never knowing where its master had gone. On these days, Jihoon shoots him a look of pity before slinking to his studio to work on his music.
It's all so stupid, so utterly pathetic, but Seungcheol can't help it.
He can't help trying to hold onto Jeonghan, effortlessly beautiful, carelessly elegant Jeonghan, who doesn't belong to him.
"Mom?" Seungcheol presses the phone closer to his ear.
"Seungcheol-ah!" His mother sounds warm over the phone, familiar and welcoming, "How are you? I've missed you! Are you eating well?"
"Mom!" Seungcheol chuckles, angling the phone so that he can run his fingers through Jeonghan's hair as he talks, "I'm fine! I'm sorry that I can't come home for Christmas." His mother says it's fine, but asks him to call home more often. Seungcheol promises.
The sunlight feels too bright this morning. Jeonghan had fallen asleep with his back towards Seungcheol - the latter can't tell if it's anger or frustration, what this strong emotion is directed at, and Jeonghan had remained mum after that moment yesterday night when their eyes locked and the whole world seemed to stop. Then he had insisted on following Seungcheol home, silently stripping off his leather pants and sheer mesh shirt, choosing one of Seungcheol's shirts from his closet to sleep in. But now Jeonghan's pressed up against Seungcheol's side, hair all mussed up and looking irresistibly comfortable.
When Seungcheol had slipped under the sheets and onto the other side of the bed, Jeonghan had been on his side, facing the wall. The all-too-serene way his lips were closed and the gentle fall and rise of his chest betrayed Jeonghan - Jeonghan was great at acting but he didn't know, could never know that Seungcheol's eyes were always on him. So he knew Jeonghan wasn't asleep because when the other male was really asleep, his lips would be parted, the slightest bit of drool escaping (it would be disgusting if it was anyone else, but because it was Jeonghan it seemed too endearing to be real), and the rise and fall of his chest would be a touch stronger.
Even a whisper in his ear, something that usually got Jeonghan unusually riled up in bed, elicited no reaction. Seungcheol had even tried throwing a casual arm over Jeonghan, only to have the other male fake a few irritated groans and roll even further away (no small feat considering that Seungcheol's bed was a single).
Seungcheol can't help himself.
He bends down to give Jeonghan a peck on the forehead.
"I love you." Seungcheol whispers into the other male's hair with a sort of confidence that one can only have on a lazy, late morning. I love you, and I love how we are now.
He gives Jeonghan another kiss, this time on his cheek, a little closer to his lips.
But that doesn't stop me from wanting more.