Chapter Text
“Ask him if he wants to join us,” Joshua said, his voice whispering through Jeonghan’s ear. He nudged Jeonghan’s shoulder trying to get the boy’s attention. Jeonghan didn't move. He couldn't. He was currently serving as a human mattress for Joshua’s younger brother, a toddler who was currently sprawled across Jeonghan’s thighs, snoring softly and smelling faintly of grape juice and dirt. But physical discomfort wasn't why Jeonghan was unresponsive.
He was currently locked in a deep, spiritual negotiation with the universe. “Please let it be fried chicken”. He thought, staring intensely at a blade of grass. “Mom said she was going to the grocery store.” “If she knew what I like she would buy chicken. If she had bought broccoli, I'd run away to never be seen again.”
“Hannie!” Joshua nudged him again, his face twisted in a look of betrayal. “The club! We need a third member for the Secret Kingdom Society!” Jeonghan blinked, his brain slowly rebooting from the golden, crispy dream of a drumstick. He looked down at the small child pinned to his legs. He knew this kid. He had known him for at least twenty minutes. But for the life of him, the name was gone-sacrificed at the altar of his hunger. “I think it’s similar to the word… dinosaur?” Jeonghan whispered back, squinting at the kid. “Is his name Brontosaurus? Or maybe Stegosaurus?.. Din-”
SMACK.
The sound of Joshua’s palm meeting Jeonghan’s cheek echoed across the playground. It wasn't a violent slap, but it was a precise one-the kind that carried the weight. Jeonghan jolted, his eyes snapping wide as he nearly launched the ‘dinosaur’ child into the sandbox as he stood up. He clutched his stinging cheek, turning to see a very pissed-off Joshua. “Were you even listening?” Joshua demanded, his eyebrows knitted together like two angry caterpillars. “Or is your head just full of dirt?” “Uhh… yes?” Jeonghan blurted out, his heart racing. “Dinosaurs. I’m with you, Shua. Totally… Secret society som-”
“He wasn't listening,”
a new voice boomed. Both boys jolted and looked up to who made that noise. Standing over them was the kid Shua was talking about. He was wearing a shirt with a mud stain on the collar and a grin that made him look like he owned every grain of sand in the park. He was holding a plastic shovel like a sword. “He was thinking about food,” the kid said, stepping between Joshua and Jeonghan. “Who are you?” Jeonghan questioned. The boy reached down and patted the top of Jeonghan’s head, “Heyy! Don’t mess my hair.” He swatted his hand to get out of his beautiful hair. “Hi, I'm Choi Seungcheol. The boy declared “you shouldn't slap people. Especially not him. He looks like he's busy thinking about important stuff… what’s this Secret Kingdom Society Club all about?” he spoke.
Both boys just stared at him. And then randomly pinched Jeonghan’s cheeks “And are you a part of this club, cutie?” His hand lingering just a second too long for it to be casual. Seungcheol turned back to Joshua. “I’ll be in your club. But only if he gets to be the Prince and I get to be the Knight who protects him. Deal?” Joshua looked at Jeonghan, then at Seungcheol, then at the shovel. “Fine. But I’m the King.” “Deal,” Seungcheol said. He turned to Jeonghan and offered a hand.. not to shake, but to pat Jeonghan’s head. “Don’t worry, Hannie. I’m Seungcheol. I’m the General now. Nobody’s gonna slap you while I’m around.” Jeonghan felt a strange, warm fluttering in his chest that he didn't have a name for yet. He didn't even mind that this random kid was calling him ‘Hannie’ whatever that means. "I like him," Jeonghan realized with the simple, terrifying clarity of a child. “I think I like him even more than the chicken my mom hopefully will buy…”
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By the time they reached middle school, the roles they played on the playground had solidified into a lifestyle. The Campaign for President is coming up, and Jeonghan decided to run for Class President in eighth grade mostly because his mom promised him a new gaming console if he won. “That's the reason why I want to run for president. If I win that, I'll get that new console.” Jeonghan spoke with excitement running through his veins.
“I can finally play Animal Crossing peacefully..” He sighs. “What happened to the previous one you had?” Cheol questioned.
He remembered that Jeonghan just got a new console last Christmas which was 4 months ago. “Well… Shua and I decided to have a sleepover, but when he arrived his younger brother came with him. He said that his mom won't allow him to come if he doesn't bring his brother along with him.” he blabbers out. “Then when we were playing Animal Crossing, Dino accidentally tipped over a cup of water that's near the console soo… You probably know what happened next.” he finished, sighing again.
“That sucks.” He chuckled.
“It's not funny, I got grounded even though it’s not my fault.” Jeonghan spat back, rolling his eyes. “Will you please help me?..” He looks at Seungcheol. “I’ve got my own problems to deal with hannie..sorry.” He replied. Jeonghan pouts, he will not accept no for an answer. “Hyung, please...” He gave the most sad looking puppy eyes ever to be seen in man-kind. Seungcheol's mind went blank when he saw his face.
“Fine.” He said, looking away at his face, hiding the blush that formed. But Jeonghan isn’t blind. He saw how red cheol’s ears were. “Thank you, hyung!” He exclaimed, clinging to his arms. “It's so cold…” he murmurs. “You’re like the sun, so warm.” Jeonghan teased. Seungcheol stayed silent. Planning on how to help him. He took it more seriously than his own life.
“Hannie, the font on this flyer is terrible." Seungcheol declared, surrounded by half-empty glue sticks and neon poster boards. He pointed at a handwritten sign. “It doesn't say ‘Leadership.’ It says ‘I like naps.’ We need bold! We need glitter!” he commanded. “I do like naps, Cheol,” Jeonghan reminded him, lazily cutting out a lopsided paper star. “And glitter is a nightmare to clean up.” looking around the room finding specks of glitters scattered. “Trust the process,” Seungcheol insisted.
He spent the entire weekend covered in silver sparkles, hand-delivering flyers to every locker. He even stood on a cafeteria table and chanted Jeonghan’s name until a teacher gave him detention. Jeonghan won, of course. Not because of the glitter, but because Seungcheol had spent three days telling everyone in the hallway, “If you don't vote for Jeonghan, you’re basically voting against sunshine itself.” In the victory photo, Jeonghan is wearing the plastic crown, but he’s looking at Seungcheol who has a smudge of ink on his face and a grin so wide it looks like it hurts.
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The air in the gymnasium smelled like floor wax and the fading scent of the hundreds of families who had crowded the bleachers only hours before. Now, it was just the two of them. As School President, Jeonghan had stayed behind to oversee the final cleanup, and naturally, Seungcheol had stayed to help. “If I see one more stray confetti, I’m going to lose my mind.” Seungcheol joked, his voice echoing around the place. He was dragging a heavy bin full of decorations, his graduation gown unzipped and flapping behind him like a cape.
He looked at Jeonghan and grinned, that same bright, confident smile that had anchored Jeonghan’s world for eighteen years. “But hey, we did it, Hannie. We’re officially adults. Scary, right?” He chuckled. Jeonghan stopped. He was holding a stack of programs, his knuckles white from the grip. His heart was beating with a frantic, uneven rhythm that felt like it was trying to break through his ribs.
“Cheol,” Jeonghan said. His voice was small, cutting through the vast silence of the gym.
Seungcheol stopped dragging the bin. He turned, his expression softening instantly. “Yeah? You tired? We’re almost done, I promise. I’ll buy you those spicy ramen on the way home.” he offered.
“I love you.” The words bursted out of his mouth. The silence that followed was heavy. It wasn't the warm silence they usually shared; it was suffocating. Seungcheol’s hands dropped from the bin. He stood there, framed by the dim emergency lights of the gym, and for the first time in his life, the General looked completely lost.
“I know…” Seungcheol said, his voice hesitant. “I love you too, Hannie. You’re my best-"
“No,” Jeonghan interrupted, his voice trembling as he stepped closer. The programs slipped from his hands, scattering across the polished wood floor like fallen leaves. “Not like that. Not like a brother, or a best friend, or even a safety net. I’ve loved you since we were children, Cheol. I’ve loved you through every shitty haircut you had, the way you smile at me… it's different from what you do to everyone. Every bad grade, and every dark night. I want to be the person you come home to, not just the one you call when you’re sad.” he clarifies, his voice getting quiet every second.
The air felt hard to breathe. Jeonghan watched Seungcheol’s face, searching for a spark, a flicker of the same fire. Instead, he saw a wall go up.
Seungcheol took a half-step back. The shock on his face was replaced by a look of profound, agonizing pity. "Hannie, stop joking around." Seungcheol said, his voice dropping into a low, defensive growl. He stepped back, putting several feet between them. "Don't say that. You’re... you’re my BFF. We’re the duo. You're the Prince and I get to be the Knight who protects you, not the Princess who was supposed to be mine but got married to the neighboring Prince."
"Cheol–" Jeonghan stood frozen.
"No, listen to me," Seungcheol interrupted, and his voice was suddenly too loud, too frantic. He was shaking his head, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as if to hide the fact that they were trembling. "I don't feel that way about you. At all. I'm sorry. I’ve never seen you as anything but my best friend. My brother. You’re the person who keeps me sane, but that’s it. There’s no... there’s no 'romance' there. It would be weird, right? It would ruin everything." He said the words with a brutal, rehearsed efficiency. I don't feel that way.
Just friends. BFFs. My Brother. Brother.
But as he spoke, he wouldn't look Jeonghan in the eye. He was staring at the smudge on the gym floor, looking at the ceiling, anywhere but him. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. To anyone else, it was a rejection. But to Jeonghan, it felt like Seungcheol was breaking his world piece by piece. But something about the way he moved feels odd.
Seungcheol was terrified.
Jeonghan could see it now-the underlying panic. Seungcheol wasn't lying because he didn't love him; he was lying because he was scared to death of losing the only thing that made him feel safe. If they were "just friends," Jeonghan had to stay. If they were "just friends," there was no risk of a messy breakup that would leave Seungcheol alone in the dark again. By friend-zoning Jeonghan, Seungcheol was ensuring his own sanity. He was choosing a comfortable lie over a terrifying truth. But why Cheol?
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For the first six years of his life, Choi Seungcheol lived in a world defined by the sound of a ticking clock and the long, stretching shadows of an empty hallway. He was an only child, a fact that felt less like a privilege and more like a quiet sentence of solitude. His parents were good people, but they were ambitious, their lives consumed by the relentless gears of corporate jobs that demanded their presence long after the sun had dipped below the horizon.
For little Seungcheol, the "dark" wasn't a monster under the bed or a ghost in the closet. The dark was the cold reality of coming home to a house that didn't breathe. It was the heavy silence of a kitchen where the only heat came from a microwave, and the only company of the maid and his driver. He spent his afternoons sitting on the rug in the living room, surrounded by toys he had no one to share with, watching the golden hour fade into a murky, lonely grey. He learned to be small. He learned to be quiet.
He learned that the only way to survive the loneliness was to build a shell around himself, to become his own "General" before he even knew what the word meant. Then came the afternoon everything changed. It was a Tuesday, a day that should have been as grey and silent as all the ones before it. But on the playground, he met a boy with soft chestnut hair and eyes that seemed to hold a secret spark of mischief.
Yoon Jeonghan. The first time Jeonghan came over to Seungcheol’s house, he didn't seem to notice the oppressive silence. He didn't care that the lights were off or that the house felt like a museum. "It's too quiet in here," Jeonghan had said, tossing his backpack onto the pristine sofa. "How can you think if it’s this quiet?" Within an hour, Jeonghan had turned the living room into a battlefield of cushions and blankets.
He had raided the pantry, found the "hidden" snacks Seungcheol’s parents forgot were there, and was currently explaining a complex set of rules for a game that made no sense but felt like the most important thing in the world. For the first time, the shadows in the hallway didn't feel like they were closing in. They were just corners to hide in during a game of tag. The ticking clock was drowned out by the sound of Jeonghan’s laughter, a bright, ringing sound that seemed to chase the cold out of the walls.
Jeonghan was the one who reached out in the middle of a scary movie and held Seungcheol’s hand. He was the one who noticed when Seungcheol’s eyes would drift toward the front door, waiting for a key to turn in the lock, and would immediately start a new conversation to distract him.
"You're not alone, Cheol-ah," Jeonghan had whispered one evening, as they lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling.
"I'm here. I'll always be here. If the lights go out, I'll just bring a flashlight. Simple, right?" He chuckled. Everything changed for the better. The boy who was "all alone" suddenly had an anchor. The dark house became a home, not because the parents were there more often, but because Jeonghan had filled the empty spaces with warmth and noise. Seungcheol finally stopped looking at the clock. He didn't have to count the hours until his parents came home anymore, because the only person who truly mattered was already sitting right next to him. Jeonghan had become the sun in Seungcheol's universe, and for the first time in his life, Seungcheol wasn't afraid of the dark, because he knew that as long as he reached out his hand, Jeonghan would be there to catch it.
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“But don't worry,” Seungcheol said quickly, stepping forward as if to grab Jeonghan’s shoulders, then thinking better of it and pulling his hands back. He looked frantic, his eyes darting around as if searching for a way to fix the broken atmosphere.
“It’s fine! We’ll just... we’ll forget this happened. I’ll forget it, and you should probably too. Nothing changes, okay? We’re still going to college together. We’re still Jeonghan and Seungcheol. Everything stays the same.” Jeonghan looked at him. Really looked at him. He saw the way Seungcheol’s eyes were shimmering, the way he was breathing too fast. “Right,” Jeonghan said. His voice was different now. It was flat. Polished. “Everything stays the same,” he replied. “Exactly!” Seungcheol said, his relief was so palpable it was insulting. He reached out and ruffled Jeonghan’s hair, trying to force the moment back into a "fun" one. “See? No big deal. We’re good. Help me with the rest of this trash?”
“Yeah,” Jeonghan said, bending down to pick up the scattered programs. “We’re good.” But as Jeonghan reached for the paper, something inside him finally snapped. It wasn't a loud break; it was a quiet click, like a door being locked from the inside. He realized then that he had spent eighteen years providing safety for a man who would never give him a home.
He realized that the "reassurance" Seungcheol gave him was actually a cage. “I’ll forget this happened,” Seungcheol had said. He was asking Jeonghan to delete his own heart just to make Seungcheol feel comfortable again. As they walked out of the gym that night, the moon casting long shadows over the parking lot, Seungcheol was talking about their summer plans, acting as if the last ten minutes had never occurred. Jeonghan walked beside him, smiling in all the right places, laughing at all the right jokes.
He performed the role of the "Best Friend" with terrifying perfection. But for the first time in his life, as he looked at the boy beside him, Jeonghan didn't feel like the roof. He felt like a ghost. He had accepted the friendship. In his place was a man who had finally realized that being a safety net meant you were the only one who ever got hit by the fall. He would stay. He would help. He would be the perfect friend.
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The fluorescent lights of the campus library hummed, a sound that usually made Seungcheol’s head throb. He was hunched over a stack of textbooks, his fingers tangled in his hair, his leg bouncing at a frantic speed. He had a twenty-page thesis due in eight hours, and he was stuck on the sixth page.
“Shit,” he mumbled, running his hands through his hair. He kept fidgeting with the keyboard.
Without a word, a plastic cup of iced Americano slid into his field of vision. Seungcheol didn’t look up. He didn't have to. He knew the pale, slender fingers that released the cup. He knew the faint scent of Jeonghan’s fabric softener.
"I can't focus!" Seungcheol sat up, his hair a catastrophic mess of static and stress. "I've been on the same paragraph for forty minutes. I’m going to fail. I’m going to drop out”. Leaning to Jeonghan. “I can't anymore," he quietly said, digging his head into his pale neck. “ You smell so good, you always make me feel safe.” he whispered to his neck. Jeonghan’s cheeks started to heat up. Forming a reddish hue in his cheeks. He cleared his throat to break the silence. He finally looked at him, deadpan. "Give me your draft," he uttered.
"It's bad, Hannie. It's really bad." Seungcheol said, scratching his neck. "I’ve seen your middle school diary, Seungcheol. Nothing can be worse than your 'Ode to the School Cafeteria Pizza.' Give it here." Jeonghan snatched the laptop, his eyes scanning the screen. Within seconds, his fingers were flying across the keys. "You spelled 'Renaissance' four different ways in one paragraph. That’s actually impressive." He chuckled.
"It’s a creative choice!" he replied, hitting Jeonghan's shoulder.
"It’s a 'I-need-a-tutor' choice," Jeonghan retorted, but his voice was soft. He deleted a whole sentence and rewrote it. "There. Now it sounds like a person wrote it instead of a stressed-out golden retriever. Go get us more coffee. Use my card." He turned to him. Seungcheol beamed, leaning over to squeeze Jeonghan’s shoulder. "What would I do without you? Seriously?" "Die due to the plague and bad grammar, probably," Jeonghan muttered, but he waited until Seungcheol turned away before he let himself smile.
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Jeonghan was not in a good mood, I guess the weather also. It was pouring. Not just a drizzle, but the kind of rain that felt personal.Cheol texted him to meet up at his Department. Seungcheol was standing at the edge of the Psychology Department with Jeonghan beside him, looking down at his expensive new sneakers in despair.
"My shoes, Hannie. They’re real NIKE. They have souls. I can't do this to them." he looked down at his perfectly brand new shoes. “It cost more than my allowance.” he pouts now looking at Jeonghan.
Jeonghan sighed, grabbing a pair of plastic bags in his bag. He kneeled, putting the bags in Cheol’s shoes. “What are you doing?” "Lift your feet, if you get a drop of water on those shoes, I’ll never hear the end of it," he remarks. He stood up popping open a massive black umbrella. “Come here.” He pulled Seungcheol to him. As they stepped into the pouring rain, Jeonghan adjusted the umbrella.
He held it at a steep angle, shielding Seungcheol’s entire body while the rain pelted his own right arm. He shivered.
"Wait, you’re getting soaked!" Seungcheol grabbed the handle, trying to pull it back. "Hannie, move it over! Your shoulder is literally a waterfall right now." He said to the boy. "Don't touch the umbrella or I'll hit your head, Choi Seungcheol," Jeonghan snapped, though there was no real heat in it. He leaned his weight into Seungcheol, forcing him to stay close to him. "I’m wearing a cheap hoodie. You’re wearing a 'I’m trying to look cool for the dance team' outfit. Just walk."
"But your hair-" he tried to reason with Jeonghan until he was cut off. "My hair is invincible. Your ego, however, is fragile. Now keep moving before I leave you here to drown." Seungcheol laughed, tucking himself closer into Jeonghan’s side. "You're the best bodyguard ever. I’ll buy you a hairdryer when we get back."
Jeonghan smiled. “You better.”
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Their shared apartment was a battlefield of domesticity. Jeonghan was currently standing in the kitchen, staring at a pile of laundry that Seungcheol had "organized" on the dining table.
"Choi Seungcheol! What are these doing here?!" he shouted, his voice filling their small apartment. Seungcheol jogged out of his room, looking sheepish. "Leave it there! I was sorting them..?" "It's a health hazard," Jeonghan said, rolling his eyes, picking up a sock that's in a bowl with two fingers and dropping it into a basket. "Sit down. I already made the stew. It’s on the stove."
Seungcheol slumped into a chair, watching Jeonghan move with effortless efficiency. Jeonghan was folding a shirt, stirring a pot, and checking his phone all at once. "You're like a wizard," Seungcheol said, his voice dropping into that quiet, sincere tone that always caught Jeonghan off guard. "Everything just works when you're around. The apartment stays clean, the bills get paid, I actually pass my classes... it’s like you’re the glue holding my whole life together." he looks directly at Jeonghan.
Jeonghan paused, his hand hovering over the ladle. He felt that familiar ache in his chest... He wanted to say, It’s because I like you., i lov- He wanted to say, I’m the glue because I don’t want you to be alone. But he already know the answer to that. Instead, he turned around and flicked a drop of water at Seungcheol’s face. Causing the boy to jolt out.
"It's because you're a disaster, and I have a low tolerance for chaos," Jeonghan teased.
"Now get the bowls. And if I find one more sock near the cabinets, I’m changing the locks." Seungcheol laughed, hopping up to help.
"You love me. Admit it. You'd be bored to death without my chaos."
“Wow, he really had forgotten it.”
"I'd be peaceful," Jeonghan countered, hiding his face as he turned back to the stove. "I'd be rested. I'd have so much free time." "Yeah, but who would you share your headphones with?" he teased. Jeonghan didn't answer. He just filled the bowls. He knew the answer, and it was the same answer it had always been: Nobody but you.
“There is no happiness without pain.” Seungcheol blurts out randomly.
“What?” Jeonghan turned around, passing the bowl to him.
“Oh i was just reading an article..” he chuckled.
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The shifts were so subtle that at first, Jeonghan thought he was just being sensitive. It started with the silence. For ten years, their shared silence had been warm..the kind of quiet that felt like a thick blanket. But lately, the silence felt sharp. It felt like an empty room.
"Hey, focus," Jeonghan said, slapping Seungcheol’s elbow with a bag of gummy worms. "If you fail this exam, I’m not letting you live in my apartment. I have standards for my tenants." he added.
Seungcheol didn’t laugh. He didn’t even look up from his phone. His thumbs were flying across the screen, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that reached his eyes. The kind of smile Jeonghan usually only saw after a victory on the court.
"Cheol?" he tried to snap the boy back to earth. "Cheol, you’re staring at that screen so hard I think later you're gonna get sucked in." Jeonghan joked, leaning over to poke Seungcheol’s shoulder.
Usually, Seungcheol would lean back, maybe grab Jeonghan’s hand and complain about his workload. This time, he flinched. Just a tiny bit. He shifted his chair.
"Hm? Oh, sorry, Hannie..," Seungcheol said, finally locking his phone and shoving it face-down on the table. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes. "Just a lot going on. The team, the coach being a jerk... I’m just stressed, I think." he scratched his head. "You sure?" Jeonghan reached out to ruffle his hair, a gesture as natural as breathing. Seungcheol flinched. It was barely an inch, a tiny pull-back, but to Jeonghan, it felt like a door slamming in his face.
"Yeah. Just... space, you know? My head is a mess," Seungcheol muttered, turning his attention back to his textbook. Jeonghan withdrew his hand, his fingers tingling with something he couldn't explain. "Just a lot on my plate, Jeonghan," Seungcheol said, not looking up. "The dance team, the finals... you know how it is."
"I do know how it is," Jeonghan said, his smile faltering for a split second before snapping back into place. "That's why I brought the 'I hate life' muffins from the bakery. Your favorite." he reached into his bag and pushed it in Cheol’s arm.
"Thanks," Seungcheol muttered, pushing the muffin aside. "I’ll eat it later... I actually have to go meet someone for a project. I'll see you at the apartment?" He quickly said.
Jeonghan watched him pack his bag in a frenzy. "A project? At 11:00 PM?"
"Yeah. Hard worker, this guy. Very focused," Seungcheol said, a weird, soft smile tugging at his lips… a smile that wasn't directed at Jeonghan. "Don't wait up." he walked away, not even glancing at Jeonghan’s direction. “Oh. Okay be safe! Text me when you're coming home…” he said, not noticing that Seungcheol was already gone.
He’s just stressed, Jeonghan told himself, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. It’s finals. Everyone’s a bit of a jerk during finals. “He’s just stressed.” echoed in his head. He knows he shouldn't feel this way…But he can't help it. Jeonghan sat in the silence of the library for an hour, staring at the melting ice in the coffee cup.
A text broke the silence that was slowly consuming him. He grabbed his phone. A text from Joshua...
“Hey, we're having a BBQ party next week. Wanna come? I already invited Cheol and he said he’ll come! SEE U”
he stared at the message.
“Ill be there.” he replied.
He finally stood up and grabbed the coffee and muffins, made his way out of the library and threw it in the trash. “I want to go home...” he mumbled.
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A week later, the whole group was gathered at their favorite cramped BBQ spot. The air was thick with the smell of grilled pork and the loud laughter of Joshua and Seokmin. The place was crowded at the time. "So," Joshua said, flipping a piece of meat. "Seungcheol-hyung, you’ve been a ghost lately. Are you training for the Olympics or did you finally get kidnapped by the library spirits?"
Seungcheol laughed, but it was different. It was shy, quiet. He looked around the table, his eyes finally landing on Jeonghan for a second before darting away. Jeonghan feels like he got hit by a truck right there.
"Actually," Seungcheol started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ve been hanging out with someone. From the music department." The table went quiet for a heartbeat. “What’s her name...” Seokmin teased. “His name is Jihoon.” he said. "His?!" Jeonghan was shocked. The table erupts in cheers. "The tiny genius?" Seokmin yelled. "The one who lives in the studio? How did you even get him to come outside?" he laughed. While everyone was congratulating Cheol, Jeonghan was in a deep thought.
"I thought you weren't into men." his brain was freezing.
"He’s not tiny, he’s... compact," Seungcheol defended, his face turning a bright, genuine red. "And he’s amazing. We’ve been talking for weeks. I think... I think I’ve finally found 'the one,' you guys. He makes me want to be better, you know?" he confessed right there in front of them.
Jeonghan felt the air leave his lungs. It was like the world he had been building had been sliced down the middle. All those years of being there for him, “the one”, the person who stayed in the dark-it was all being destroyed by a person he didn't even get to meet from the Music Department.
"Jeonghan, you're quiet," Joshua said, nudging him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at his best friend. Jeonghan didn't miss a beat, he didn't want to ruin the mood. He reached for his glass, raising it high with a steady hand. "I'm just shocked!" Jeonghan laughed, the sound bright and convincing.
"I thought Cheol was going to marry his basketball shoes. Finally, someone has taken him off my hands! I might actually get some sleep now." he exclaimed. "Hey!" Seungcheol laughed, throwing a piece of lettuce at him.
"You're supposed to be happy for me!" he pouts looking at him.
"I am happy for you, you idiot," Jeonghan said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Does he know what he’s getting into? Did you tell him about the socks in the bowl yet?" jokingly told.
"Not yet," Seungcheol grinned, his eyes sparkling in a way that made Jeonghan’s stomach turn. "I want him to like me for at least another month before I show him the chaos." he shyly said. Grabbing the soju bottle.
"Well," Jeonghan said, as he managed a small, teasing laugh. "That explains why you’ve been so useless lately. I thought you were dying, but you were just being a romantic. You should’ve told me, Cheol-ah. I would’ve stopped bothering you with those 'stress' muffins.”
"You never bother me, Hannie," Seungcheol said, reaching across the corner of the table to pat Jeonghan’s arm. The touch, which used to be Jeonghan’s favorite thing in the world, now felt like something foreign. It burned. "To Seungcheol’s mystery musician!" Joshua cheered, sensing the tension and trying to sweep it away.
"To Jihoon!" Seokmin cheered.
"To Jihoon!" Everyone echoed. Jeonghan drank. He drank until the burn in his throat matched the burning in his chest. He watched Seungcheol pull out his phone, the same phone he’d been hiding for weeks and saw a lock screen that wasn't a picture of the two of them at the beach anymore. It was a blurry, candid shot of a small boy with headphones.
There is no happiness without pain, Jeonghan thought, his smile remaining perfectly, agonizingly in place. He had spent twenty years being the safety net. He had spent twenty years waiting for Seungcheol to look at him the way he was currently looking at a text message from a stranger.
He realized, with a soul-crushing certainty, that he had done his job too well. He had made Seungcheol feel so safe, so supported, and so whole, that Seungcheol finally felt strong enough to fly away and find someone else. "Is he cute?" Jeonghan asked, leaning his chin on his hand, the perfect image of a supportive best friend. "Show us a picture, General. Let’s see who finally tamed you." As Seungcheol eagerly passed his phone around, Jeonghan felt a piece of himself quietly break. He kept smiling. He kept joking. He performed the role of the "Best Friend" with Oscar-winning precision.
But inside, he was already starting to say goodbye.