Work Text:
It’s half past one in the morning, January 1st.
The new year had crept up on them silently, days passing by in a blur and seasons changing as quick as the flash of an old film camera. A long press on the capture, a brief shutter of the lens. Blink, and it’s over.
The past twelve months have been one of the busiest, full of growing pains and new opportunities alike. Jaehyun isn’t necessarily the type to fear change, albeit he is intimidated by the sheer amount of possibilities and outcomes that could result from a single decision. All his potential—where it could take him, how he should handle it. Navigating adulthood isn’t easy, as there isn’t a handbook on how to properly go about these things, considering everyone’s journey is different, but he thinks he’s gradually getting the hang of it. Change is inevitable, and he’s come to appreciate the ups and downs that come with it, the joys outweighing the sorrows when he stops overthinking so much.
For instance, Jaehyun made the executive decision to pursue a second degree upon the completion of his bachelor’s, the idea of a post-graduate life being too mundane for his liking. Sungho, on the other hand, finally received the job promotion he’d been working overtime for, the careful scrutiny and countless evaluation meetings with his higher ups paying off in the form of a shiny new title and a much-needed pay raise. Taesan and Leehan managed to smuggle a cat into their apartment, much to Riwoo’s amusement and distress, but if the influx of footage accumulating in their group chat is anything to go by, she’s worth the potential wrath of their landlord and more. Woonhak, who’d come to visit for the holiday break, has already sat for his college entrance exams and is set to graduate in February. Jaehyun, ever the supportive big brother, already arranged for two of them to take the day off for the ceremony.
Of course, some things stay the same, too. Jaehyun still waits for Sungho at the train station after work so they can walk home together and ask about each other’s day. Sometimes, they’ll do some grocery shopping, Jaehyun pushing the cart as Sungho throws in a selection of fruits and vegetables. On special occasions, they’ll have an impromptu date night and splurge a little on dinner. Sungho still wakes up early on Sundays to prepare pancake batter for breakfast, will lay out the griddle and pour the mix into bottles so he and Jaehyun can squeeze out silly designs together. They make a competition out of it, the loser with the most deformed pieces in charge of doing the dishes. Jaehyun never wins, but Sungho helps him with rinsing duty regardless. There’s a permanent wine stain on the rug, remnants from one of their date nights at home, glass spilling over after Jaehyun’s knee had bumped into the leg of the coffee table in a fit of excitement. The deep reds have managed to fade into a dusty rose with the help of some bleach, but the stain is there to stay and two have grown quite fond of it now that a few years have passed. Others insist that they buy a replacement, but they refuse. It adds charm, they say. Where there is wine, there are memories.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” Sungho says, stifling a yawn as he holds open the door for Riwoo. “Get home safe, and make sure those two take an aspirin in the morning.”
By ‘those two,’ he’s referring to their drunk-as-shit juniors currently crowding up the entryway to their apartment. Leehan is slumped over Riwoo’s shoulder, half conscious, nearly all his body weight pressing against the shorter man. On the ground, Taesan, who seems to have dozed off in the midst of tying his shoelaces. They had drunk the most out of all of them tonight, taking advantage of the free booze and the guarantee that they wouldn’t have to pay for a taxi, Riwoo's role as designated driver unwavering since, well, forever. Not that he’d ever complain about it.
“Will do,” Riwoo reassures. “I’ll text you when we get back.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to just stay over?” Jaehyun offers, voice laced with concern. He comes up behind Sungho, tucking his chin into his shoulder and wrapping his hands around his waist. “We can pull out the futons if you’d like.”
Sungho reaches for his head and ruffles his hair, humming in affirmation.
“Nah, I’ll be okay,” Riwoo waves him off. He readjusts his hold on Leehan, jostling him in the process. He murmurs something unintelligible—probably about how tired he is—to which Riwoo offers a sheepish smile.
“I’ll see you guys later. Happy New Year!”
“You too!”
Riwoo uses his spare hand to nudge Taesan’s shoulder, who stumbles to his feet and slurs out his goodbyes before following the other two out of the apartment, untied laces and all. The door closes with a soft click, and all that’s left is Jaehyun, Sungho, and a mild mess in the living room.
There are silver and gold confetti flakes scattered all over, evidence of the celebratory countdown held earlier that night, accompanied by stray bits of tinsel from the Christmas tree that has yet to be put away. On the furniture, the ground, everywhere. Empty glasses sit on miscellaneous flat surfaces, a half-finished bottle of champagne the centerpiece of the dining table in a sea of seltzer and beer cans. It’s the expensive kind, procured and bottled in 2022.
“What do we do about him?” Sungho asks, giggling slightly. He’s in limbo, somewhere between tipsy and full on drunk, further gone than Jaehyun’s current state of a pleasant buzz. Coherent enough to form proper sentences, but at a point where his movements are less graceful and more baby deer and just about everything is funny to him.
Woonhak is passed out on the couch, head tilted back against the cushions and mouth agape, soft snores escaping his lips and his hands curled around a large bowl of popcorn that has since gone stale. He’d been so adamant about staying up until midnight, boasting about his endless supply of youthful energy, something his hyungs wouldn’t understand due to their old age. Talk is cheap, though, as he’d been the first to tap out, growing bored of egging Leehan and Taesan on during a drinking game he couldn’t partake in and eventually falling asleep to the movie that had been playing in the background, only waking up briefly when they’d welcomed in the new year before succumbing to drowsiness once more.
“I’ll take care of it,” he replies. “He was going to sleep there, anyway.”
“Okay,” he elongates the word, pinching his cheek. Jaehyun swats his hand away. “So responsible.”
He scampers off, and Jaehyun turns to his brother, gently prying the bowl free and laying him down on the cushions. He tucks him in with a knitted throw blanket, a housewarming gift from their mother, and makes sure his head is properly secured so he doesn’t wake up with a sore neck.
He looks so young like this, Jaehyun thinks. Much more innocent and less like the adult he’s so eager to become.
There’s a clatter of dishware from the kitchen, followed by a string of curse words. Jaehyun scurries over, after making sure the commotion didn’t wake Woonhak up, and is greeted by the sight of Sungho kneeling on the floor and picking at the remnants of a porcelain plate, split into crooked shards. It immediately sobers him up, putting him on high alert.
“Sungho! Don’t touch that,” he rushes in, arms extended out in protest. Sungho jumps back as if he’s been burned, looking up at him in confusion.
“Why?” he pouts. He looks so defeated, Jaehyun almost feels bad.
“You’ll hurt yourself.” He crouches down and inspects his hands, checking for any cuts. “Are you alright?”
Sungho nods, timid. Another thing about him when he’s intoxicated is that he’s more vulnerable, softer around the edges.
“Good.” Jaehyun stands up and guides his boyfriend away from the mess, pulling a dust broom and pan from the closet. Sungho leans against the counter, watching him silently.
“I’m sorry,” he says once all the shards have been swept away and put into the bin. He fidgets with his hands, a nervous habit of his. “I broke your favorite plate.”
“I’m not mad, darling,” Jaehyun reassures, expression softening. He approaches him and interlocks their fingers together, giving them a comforting squeeze. “I was just worried. We can always get a replacement, too.”
“I’m sorry for worrying you then,” he replies, soft smile playing on his lips. Then, his gaze shifts, and he sighs. “I have to finish cleaning.”
Jaehyun turns his head and follows his line of vision, settling on the pile of dirty dishes that have accumulated throughout the night. He chuckles. Even drunk, Sungho is still as task oriented as ever.
“We don’t have to worry about that right now, yeah?” Jaehyun pulls him close and brushes his bangs to the side, stroking his cheek. “You did a lot today. Let’s just get ready for bed.”
Sungho looks up at him and smiles, gently. “Okay.”
Jaehyun presses a kiss on his forehead, the kind that lingers and feels like forever.
“C’mon.” He gingerly leads them down the hall and into their shared bedroom, only instead of following him into the bathroom, Sungho all but face plants into the mattress at the sight of their bed. He squirms around, getting comfortable, then stills. All his ambition gone, overtaken by the sheer desire to get some shuteye.
“Yah, Sungho,” Jaehyun huffs a laugh, reaching down and shaking his shoulder. “Get up, you can’t sleep yet.”
“Why not?” he whines, voice muffled by the pillows. “I’m tired.”
“You need to get changed,” he chides. “No outside clothes, remember?”
At this, Sungho sits upright.
“Oh, yeah.”
Jaehyun helps him out of sweater, this buttercup yellow knit he’d insisted on wearing because he’d wanted to ring in the new year in a happy color.
“It’s cold,” he murmurs, covering his bare chest with his arms.
“I know, baby.” He grabs a tee from Sungho’s side of the closet, smirks when he sees the familiar logo of an old band he used to like, faded from so many washes. “Did you steal my shirt?”
“Our shirt,” he corrects, head poking out from the neckline. What’s Jaehyun’s is Sungho’s and what’s Sungho’s is Jaehyun’s.
“Right,” he complies, tugging the rest of the fabric over his torso. “Our shirt.”
His pants prove to be a more difficult feat, as Sungho refuses to get up from the bed, the combined effect of alcohol and exhaustion worsening by the minute.
“This is too hard,” he complains. His left foot is stuck in the cuff of his jeans. “Stop trying to get me naked.”
Jaehyun blanches. Sungho bursts into laughter.
“Your face is so funny,” he gasps in between giggles. Jaehyun thinks he looks like a cat, the way his eyes crinkle up and all his teeth are on display in an open-mouthed smile.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, voice dripping with fondness. He finally tugs the jeans off and throws a pair of sweats at him. “Hurry up and put your pants on.”
Sungho obliges, stumbling after him with a final laugh.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
“Can I help do your skincare?”
“Hm?” Sungho looks up from his face towel, skin dewy from the wash he just used.
“Your skincare. I want to help.”
“Okay,” he complies, clumsily hoisting himself onto the countertop.
It’s not often that Jaehyun gets to take care of Sungho like this, it usually being the other way around. He’s so independent and nurturing, always putting others before himself and prioritizing their needs over his own. While admirable, Jaehyun can’t help but worry sometimes.
He recalls that in the early stages of their relationship, it had taken a rather long time for Sungho to even be open to the idea of being pampered, of being vulnerable in any sense of the word, clamming up at compliments and turning down surprise gifts.
”You really, really don’t have to.”
“But I want to. I love you.”
Deservingness is what it boils down to. Sungho grew up with the mentality that love had to be earned, something he had admitted to after dragging him through the most intensive game of cat and mouse, the push and pull a testament to his loyalty and devotion.
It was from that day on did Jaehyun vow to use all his love in its excess and devote himself to Sungho, anything to make him aware of just how important, how deserving he is of his affections.
He supposes that this is one of the changes that served them for the better.
Which is why it comes as a surprise that Sungho agrees to his request.
Jaehyun has it all memorized by now—which cleansers are reserved for his nighttime routine and how many layers of toner he’s supposed to use and in the correct order.
“Close your eyes,” Jaehyun instructs, and Sungho obeys.
He does his best to stay still as Jaehyun goes through the motions, applying various creams and serums to his skin, each touch careful and tender. When he’s done, Sungho blinks slowly at him and gives him a dopey grin, syrupy with sleep. The bathroom lights emit around him like a fluorescent halo.
Jaehyun thinks this might be the most beautiful he’s ever been.
“All done,” Jaehyun whispers.
Sungho leans down and kisses the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”
He eases himself off the counter—well, more like falls into Jaehyun’s arms, in a literal sense—and tugs him towards the bed. Jaehyun raises the blankets so he can tuck in, the latter seeking out his warmth as soon as he joins him.
“I’m so lucky,” Sungho says after a little while. The lights are off now, and the city outside has settled down, too.
Jaehyun cracks a smile, playing with his hair in soft strokes. “Yeah? What for?”
“Everything. Our friends. You,” he sighs, tucking his head further into his side. He clings onto him, like he’ll soon disappear if he loosens his hold. “Especially you. I’m happy to have you for another year.”
His words tug at Jaehyun’s heartstrings, and he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of adoration.
“You’ll have me for as many as you’d like, my love.”
“Yeah?” he yawns, voice dipping into a murmur. “Even 400 years?”
“Even 400 years.”
Jaehyun listens as his lover’s breath slows into a steady rhythm, delicate and in time with the rise and fall of his own chest.
The living room has yet to be cleaned. He isn’t sure if they have enough milk to make breakfast in the morning, and they still have to take Woonhak back home.
But none of that matters. Not now, at least.
They have all the time in the world.