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1.
Hansol meets Seungkwan for the first time on a Monday.
He’s talking with Joshua about something probably unimportant because the English language flies out of his head the second he notices the stranger at the other end of the street. He’s holding a phone in his hands, head bent. But what Hansol really noticed were his white shoes. White shoes that seemed to have some sort of pastel pattern on them. Hansol isn’t quite sure why he spotted that.
“What are you looking at?” Josh asks, following his line of sight when Hansol doesn’t keep up with the conversation.
“Oh, hi Seungkwannie!” He calls out in Korean. The stranger’s head snaps up at a startling speed and his eyes turn into crescents as he lifts a hand into a wave. “You know Seungkwan?” Josh asks him in English, waving back.
“No,” Hansol responds.
They cross the street. Hansol’s pretty sure his lecture hall is three blocks in the opposite direction.
“Seungkwan-ah,” Josh starts, “This is Hansol. I don’t think you have met.”
Seungkwan is wearing a cream sweater vest over a white t-shirt tucked into loose, faded, blue jeans with a rip over one knee.
It should be forbidden to look this calm and collected when all Hansol threw on were one of his numerous black hoodies and sweats before Joshua broke down his door with all that knocking before class.
Seungkwan’s hair is dyed a blue that could be interestingly mistaken as gray. He wonders if that’s a stylistic choice or because the color just is washed out.
“I’m pretty sure your hair is illegal,” is the first thing that Hansol ever says to Seungkwan.
Seungkwan’s eyes widen comically behind his green face mask. Green is such an interesting color choice his brain thinks. Hansol wishes his brain would shut up.
“I’m sorry,” Seungkwan says primly. “But I don’t think you should be making any comments about my hair, Hansol-ssi.”
Hansol’s brain desperately tries to reboot to save the half-conversation. Josh, that traitor, is valiantly trying—and failing—to not laugh at Hansol’s misery.
“It wasn’t meant to be offensive,” Hansol tries to correct. “I just— yeah,” he finishes lamely.
Seungkwan stares at him, dainty fingers twisting into his leather crossbody. Hansol tries not to run away screaming in the opposite direction.
“It was nice to meet you Hansol-ssi,” Seungkwan says stiffly, before dipping into a shallow bow.
Hansol stares in muted horror at the top of Seungkwan’s blue-dyed hair. This has to be one of the worst conversations he’s ever had, and it lasted for half a minute.
“Bye Joshua hyung,” he says, throwing a little smile in Josh’s direction. Hansol immediately feels put out. He wants a sunshine smile as well.
He watches Seungkwan make a swift and firm exit, looking both ways before crossing the street and walking briskly to his destination.
“Seungkwan is a broadcasting and entertainment major,” Joshua says, completely unprompted.
Hansol forces himself to wrench his gaze away from Seungkwan and look at Joshua, “So?” He asks in a horrible attempt at casualness.
Joshua shrugs and starts walking. It takes a few seconds for Hansol to kick-start his brain into following along. “Just thought you might find it interesting. He’s the same age as you too.”
Hansol swallows, “Great,” he responds softly. Joshua snickers and switches the conversation to something banal and useless.
Hansol refuses to think about Seungkwan again.
2.
Hansol meets Seungkwan for the second time on a Tuesday.
“I have this singer,” Jihoon had said to him earlier. “I think he’ll really fit the atmosphere of this track. He can hit high notes really well but I want to work on his lower range and texture.”
“Sure,” Hansol acquiesced. It’s not like he had anyone in mind for this song anyways. He kind of made it on a whim and ran with it.
Now, Hansol is staring at the door of the recording studio, not quite sure if he wants it to open or not. He’s not good at meeting new people. Like his meeting with Seungkwan that he replays in his head when he can’t sleep at night.
“He’s a good kid,” Jihoon reassured once he set up a date and time for the recording to take place. “And takes this sort of stuff seriously. He won’t let you down.”
Hansol forgot to ask for the singer’s name. Like the scatterbrained idiot that he is.
The door swings open. The first thing that Hansol notices about the person that walks into the room is the green.
“Oh,” the person says before Hansol can fully look up and register his face. “It’s you, Hansol-ssi.”
“Seungkwan-ssi,” Hansol greets in return, once he garners a firm grasp of his surroundings.
Seungkwan’s hair is dyed to a deep brown now, clad in a green and white block striped shirt and pants that have white lines down the sides. Tucked in again, he notes. He instantly despises himself for noticing that.
Seungkwan’s staring at him, brow pushed into a furrow as if Hansol’s a puzzle he can’t quite figure out.
Hansol laughs nervously, “Did you take a look at the lyrics?” he asks. He needs to chill out. He can totally be chilled out.
Hansol registers the second Seungkwan shifts from normal-person Seungkwan to professional-singer Seungkwan.
“I did, Hansol-ssi,” he responds smoothly, pulling out lyric pages and setting down an iced americano.
“Ah, call me Hansol,” he says. A pause. Seungkwan’s back to staring at him again. “Josh told me we were the same age,” Hansol attempts to explain.
Seungkwan seems to accept this, “Okay. Hansol. Did you have any pointers for me or should we get started and fix it along from there?”
Hansol’s curious about Seungkwan’s interpretation of a song that he made, so he shrugs and tells Seungkwan that they should just get started.
Seungkwan is serious when it comes to singing. Not that he wasn’t expecting it, but Hansol is impressed at the dedication he has. Always improving and correcting and adding his own comments and flavor to the track.
He blinks and three hours have gone by and the song is practically complete, and somehow different from what he started with. It sounds better though, after having a Seungkwan touch, so he isn’t complaining.
“Thank you Seungkwan,” Hansol says earnestly.
“Oh,” Seungkwan responds, the tips of his ears turning red as he leaves the recording booth. Hansol desperately tries not to have that affect him in any way. “You made a lovely song, I was happy to do it.”
“It’s our song now,” Hansol corrects absent-mindedly as he makes sure everything is saved properly before he leaves the studio.
He turns around to face Seungkwan, looking at him dumbstruck.
“Did I say something wrong?” He asks hesitantly. He always seems to be doing something wrong around Seungkwan.
“No,” Seungkwan murmurs as if he’s trying to convince himself of that. “You’re different from what I expected,” he says finally after a long pause.
“Oh,” Hansol responds eloquently. “What did you expect?”
Seungkwan turns to face the door, “I’m not quite sure,” he says and then exits, leaving Hansol alone with his increasingly errant thoughts and a completed track that started by sounding like a song about heartache but ended up more about love.
3.
Hansol meets Seungkwan for the third time on a Wednesday.
He’s walking to the gym, determined to get some lifting in for the day when a shout filters in through his headphones. He pays it no mind as he crosses through the basketball and tennis courts.
“HANSOL,” Someone screams from behind him, cutting through the sound of Avril Lavigne lamenting over her failed love life with some heavy guitar bass. Alarmed, Hansol hurriedly pulls off his headphones and turns around.
Boo Seungkwan. Boo Seungkwan is screaming his name, running behind him.
Hansol stands there, in the middle of the sidewalk, like the idiot that he is. Seungkwan quickly catches up to him, panting and clutching a—badminton racket?
“Hi,” Seungkwan says, flashing him a smile as he desperately tries to catch his breath. Hansol opens his mouth and then closes it. Seungkwan is wearing some sort of jersey uniform with white shorts that give way to his milky white, smooth thighs.
Hansol’s brain is majorly short-circuiting. What the actual fuck is happening. Seungkwan is talking, talking about something important with his hand gestures and his cheeks glowing in the afternoon sun. Hansol’s not paying attention, too lost in Seungkwan and his chocolate brown hair and the glitter shimmering in his eyes. Oh, Hansol realizes. Oh, he’s gone.
“Hansol?” Seungkwan asks after he finishes talking about whatever he spent the last two minutes doing. Hansol just stares. “Hansol?” He asks again, slowly, hesitantly, the smile quickly disappearing on his face.
“Seungkwan,” Hansol blurts after his brain starts working again. “Hi,” he says breathlessly.
Seungkwan seems to be trying very hard not to laugh at him. “Hi Hansol,” he says, grinning shyly. Hansol’s fingers twitch with the urge to brush through Seungkwan’s hair. “I was saying,” Seungkwan starts pointedly, “that I heard your completed song from Jihoon hyung after he told me about it.”
Oh no, the song. The bane of Hansol’s existence. He spent countless nights pouring over it and asked for three extensions before turning it in. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to send the finished product to Seungkwan or not and in the end, just sent it to Jihoon and hoped for the best.
Hansol spent way too long listening to Seungkwan’s pitch-perfect voice instead of actually mixing the song. The soulful companion to the chord progression of the guitar and piano. Maybe Hansol was a bit in love with Seungkwan’s voice, but who wouldn’t be? Seungkwan, he learned after their nerve-wracking studio session, had quite a following, both on and off campus, for his vocal ability.
Hansol would never tell anyone this, but he cried listening to Seungkwan’s Love Poem cover after asking Jihoon for other tracks by the singer. His fingers inched towards the message button on Seungkwan’s Instagram that he found after a quick search, wanting to compliment the singer on a song that was well over six months old, but finally didn’t, opting to keep his overflowing emotions to himself.
He showed the cover to Wonwoo later, aching to share something this beautiful with someone else to appreciate. Wonwoo had watched it impassively—probably critiquing it as a die-hard IU fan—and then turned to Hansol once the video was done. “He’s a good singer,” Wonwoo said, “I see why he’s made you an emotional mess of a person.” Hansol left, confused by the response Wonwoo gave.
Hansol has emotions, he laughs and cries and whines as much as the next person but sometimes it doesn’t show. He’ll stand there impassively, wanting to be in the background rather than in the forefront.
These emotions were something new, and maybe Wonwoo noticed. Every single picture of Seungkwan on his Instagram brought him some kind of joy from deep within. Seungkwan during a badminton practice, posing in a black button-down that did things to Hansol, looking so content while playing with a puppy, love radiating, even while having a mask on. He scrolled through all seventy of Seungkwan’s posts, careful not to accidentally like them, heart desperately pounding in his chest.
Seungkwan is the type of person who deserves to be in the spotlight.
“Did you like it?” Hansol finally asks, eager to hear Seungkwan’s thoughts.
Seungkwan blushes, his cheeks and ears turning a lovely shade of red that Hansol wants to capture and paint his insides with, “Hansol,” he sighs, “It was so wonderful to hear.”
Something in Hansol finally sags in relief. “I’m glad,” he murmurs. “I hope I did justice to your voice, thank you for lending it.”
Seungkwan hits his chest once and Hansol feels his breath being knocked out of him in one fell swoop. “You said it was ours,” Seungkwan responds. “So I didn’t lend you my voice or anything, it belonged there.”
Someone calls Seungkwan from afar, but Hansol pays it no attention, staring at the way Seungkwan’s laugh lingers in his eyes.
“I better go,” Seungkwan says apologetically. “I kind of ran out of practice when I saw you walking through the courts.”
Hansol blinks. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” He says.
“Can you give me your phone?” Seungkwan asks. “Unlocked.” he adds, laughing when Hansol just pulls it out of his jeans pocket and into Seungkwan’s outstretched hand.
Seungkwan thrusts the racket into Hansol and he quickly grabs onto it before it falls. Seungkwan’s head is hunched over the phone, brow knitted in concentration. Hansol idly wonders what he’s doing.
“Here,” Seungkwan says as the items go back to their rightful owners. Hansols swears sparks physically fly out from where their fingers touched when he gets his phone back. “I put my number on your phone and texted myself. If you need a voice like mine for one of your tracks don’t hesitate to text me or something, or maybe, if you just want to chat.”
Seungkwan sounds flustered, as if he wasn’t supposed to say the last part. Hansol is endeared. Like the type of endeared that comes from cooing at stray cats that curl up in shadowy corners and an asleep Seungkwan at the library three nights ago.
“I really better go,” Seungkwan says, after someone yells his name again. “Text me, don’t forget!” And then Seungkwan is running back to wherever he came from, clutching his badminton racket and perhaps, Hansol’s heart.
4.
Hansol meets Seungkwan for the fourth time on Thursday.
He can sense Seungkwan’s exasperation from the other end of the Fine Arts & Music circle, staring down someone, arms wildly gesticulating.
They have been texting sporadically back and forth, Seungkwan sending cute little messages to Hansol’s dull and boring comments.
Seungkwannie
It’s Seungkwannie ㅎ
Me
hey
thx again for liking the song
Seungkwannie
Of course ㅋㅋㅋ
It was good!
And that was that. Hansol didn’t know what to say without him losing it over Seungkwan’s Love Poem cover. But then, five days later, Seungkwan texted him, surprising Hansol who was in his room, debating over whether to watch Ratatouille or The Matrix.
Seungkwannie
Hansol! I just released something
ㅋㅋㅋ
Tell me what you think ♡
Hansol was already mentally unstable when he registered the heart that Seungkwan sent, but listening to Seungkwan, goddamn.
Hansol was dying. Dead. Deceased. All of the above.
Watching Seungkwan cover Juice had Hansol feeling emotions that he had never felt in his life. Mostly non-PG emotions that surfaced when Seungkwan yelled, “when you say I’m not the baddest bitch, you lie,” in the microphone.
Hansol paused the video, wandered over to his bed to lie on it, and stared at the ceiling for a solid ten minutes.
Thirty minutes later, he finally gained enough courage to finish the video and text Seungkwan back.
Me
it’s really good
ur voice is amazing
Seungkwannie
Awww, Hansollie is making me blush
ㅎ
That was four days ago. Hansol had seen Seungkwan in flashes around campus, always running to something or surrounded by people.
Boo Seungkwan was popular and Hansol was content to watch him from afar.
Except for today, because for some reason his feet are walking towards Seungkwan on their own, ears straining to listen to Seungkwan’s adorable tirade, complete with a pout fixed on his face as he comes into better view. He has a navy blue hat on and a black shirt that gives Hansol war flashbacks back to the Black Button-Down Crisis of two weeks ago.
“—you brat, you can’t just say that. What the hell am I going to do with you? How am I going to survive dragging you around like a deadweight?”
“Are you done?” A voice, wait, Hansol knows that voice.
“Chan?” He asks surprised as comes to a stop next to the duo. He’s too surprised to even look at Seungkwan.
“Hyung,” Chan says immediately. “Save me from him.”
There’s an exasperated huff coming from next to him, Hansol turns, face to face with Seungkwan’s breath-taking beauty— and the cute mole underneath his eye Hansol only noticed in pictures.
“Hi Seungkwan,” Hansol murmurs, committing the beauty mark to his memory.
Seungkwan gives him a tight smile in response, “You know this brat?” he asks, gesturing to Chan.
“Hey,” Chan says, sounding not at all offended.
“Unfortunately,” Hansol responds with a laugh. “What problems is he giving you?”
Seungkwan pinches the bridge of his nose, “He’s the cause of all my stupid problems.”
Chan scoffs, “Yeah right, I am hitting all my notes just fine, you’re getting old so your hearing is bad.”
Seungkwan squawks, and then they both are chasing each other running around in the grass.
Hansol watches on, fond—and happy—that his only dongsaeng and someone so special to him are already close together.
“Wait,” Seungkwan shouts and Hansol startles out of his warm, fuzzy thoughts. Seungkwan points an accusing finger at Chan, “Your evaluation is in another three hours and you still can’t hit your notes right. Hansol, listen to this. If you say that he’s getting all the right pitches then I’ll let him go, otherwise I’m right.”
Hansol grins, “Alright then, Chan. Let’s hear it.”
Chan starts to sing a rendition of BTOB’s “I’ll Be Your Man”, and yeah, Hansol can see where Chan starts to miss his notes rather than hit them.
“Sorry,” Hansol starts apologetically, “Seungkwan’s right.”
Seungkwan screeches and barrels right into Hansol, hugging him. Hansol can see the headlines flash before his eyes ‘BREAKING NEWS: LOCAL MAN DIES AFTER BEING HUGGED BY CRUSH’.
Hansol’s arms awkwardly come around Seungkwan once his brain finally recognizes that he has to do something. He can faintly see Chan looking dumbstruck in the background. All too soon, Seungkwan’s warmth disappears and he’s standing in front of Chan, scolding him for his vocal technique.
“See, Hansol noticed,” Seungkwan says. “Chan-ah, I just want you to succeed.”
Chan immediately snaps to attention after staring down Hansol with some very intense eye contact. “I know hyung,” he immediately placates. “Tell me what to fix.”
Immediately, Seungkwan is meticulous in making sure that Chan sings every note to perfection, occasionally looking towards Hansol for guidance, which Hansol provides to the best of his non-vocal-trained ability.
“See,” Seungkwan says, when Chan takes a break for his tired throat. “It’s good to have a producer here, then you’ll know exactly what they want in a vocalist.”
Chan sighs, “I’m not a vocalist. I’m a dancer,” he says petulantly.
Seungkwan flicks his forehead, “They are still going to make you sing while you dance for your final showcase, you overgrown walnut.”
“I should go,” Hansol murmurs quietly to the two of them. He should have met up with Jihoon at least thirty minutes ago but it’s okay, he knows that Jihoon has a soft spot for him.
Seungkwan looks up at him, gracing him with a blinding smile, “Bye Hansollie. Thanks for helping out this brat.”
“Bye hyung,” Chan says, eyeing Hansol suspiciously. “I’ll see you later. After I deal with Seungkwan.” Seungkwan shouts and they are back to squabbling again, play-fighting each other in the grass.
Hansol slips away, leaving the two of them alone, feeling like a secret part of himself has been ripped open for all to see.
5.
Hansol meets Seungkwan for the fifth time on Friday.
He’s been forced to go to a noraebang with Seungcheol, Junhui, and Jeonghan, regretting every second of it. Seungcheol is currently singing some terrible 80’s folk song with Jeonghan and Junhui belting out unnecessary high notes in the background.
Maybe they have had too much to drink and Hansol’s had too little. The soju didn’t appeal to him as his three tragic hyungs knocked back shot after shot.
Hansol sighs, needing much, much more beer to get out of this terrible night alive and leaves the booth in the hunt for some stronger liquid.
The neon red exit sign looks exceedingly tempting to him as he walks out into the dark, strobe-lit hallway and he’s never one to ignore signs from the universe so he goes, stepping out into the welcoming chill of the autumn night.
There’s a figure hunched over a little way from the building, curled inward on the curb, wearing a bright yellow sweater that’s visible even in the darkness of the night.
Hansol makes his way over. “Hey,” he says gently to the hunched over figure. “You okay?”
The figure slowly unfolds itself and Boo Seungkwan is staring back at him.
“Hi Seungkwan,” Hansol says, keeping the gentle volume. “Are you doing okay?”
“Hansol,” Seungkwan squeaks out, before hiding his face behind his hands. Hansol desperately tries not to scream out the fact that he thinks Seungkwan is the cutest person alive in the void of the night.
“I’m sorry,” Seungkwan adds.
Hansol immediately glares, “Why are you sorry?” He asks. “What did you do? You’re just sitting here minding your own business. Don’t say sorry.”
“Ok, sorry,” Seungkwan says, giggling when Hansol shoots him another glare.
Hansol kicks at the curb, “Space for one more?”
“Yeah,” Seungkwan says. “Come sit.”
Hansol sits down, at least three inches away from Seungkwan but Seungkwan’s leg comes to rest against his and Hansol’s life expectancy immediately decreases to ten minutes into the future. If he could last that long.
“I drink too much coffee,” Seungkwan blurts out, staring straight ahead.
“Is this honesty hour?” Hansol asks curiously, absent-mindedly admiring Seungkwan’s side-profile, but he doesn’t want to make Seungkwan uncomfortable so he offers a truth of his own. “I sometimes get lost in my own head.”
“I am too loud sometimes.”
“I’m too quiet most times.”
“I hate being proven wrong.”
“I hate people who start problems rather than solve them.”
Seungkwan swallows, “I think that I’ll never rise to people’s expectations. That I’ll never be enough. That people will keep asking so much of me that by the end, there will be nothing left.”
Hansol doesn’t even know how to respond to that.
“I have to keep going. I get an itch starting to build deep inside of me if I ever stop for a second. I never stop. I don’t think I can even if I wished for it. I worry too much about what other people say for me to stop” Seungkwan laughs, something gut-wrenchingly cruel that makes Hansol’s skin crawl. “Does that make me a terrible person then? For doing this to myself?”
“No,” Hansol responds immediately. He doesn’t know what else to say to that so he stops.
Seungkwan looks at him, so achingly tired. “I want to stop. I desperately want to.”
“I can help you slow down,” Hansol says, words coming out faster than his brain can handle. “I go through everything very slowly, I need someone to speed me up.”
There’s a pause. Hansol immediately regrets speaking.
“Can I hold your hand?” Seungkwan asks, quietly, looking at the gravel beneath their feet.
Hansol swallows, desperately praying to whatever god that would listen that his hand isn’t cold and clammy.
They sit there, hands linked, knees pressed against each other, in contemplative silence. There’s a street light a little far off that keeps flickering on and off.
It’s interesting, both of them, sitting here.
“Your struggles don’t make you less of a person,” Hansol finally says. “It makes you human.”
“Yeah,” Seungkwan says softly, squeezing his hand. “I’m beginning to get that.”
Seungkwan lets go and gets up, dusting off his pants. “I better get back inside,” he says with a short laugh, “before Mingyu calls the police and Soonyoung hyung starts freaking out. Bye Hansol,” Seungkwan says before he disappears back inside.
He doesn’t look back at Hansol once since he stood up.
Hansol is left there, sitting on a curb on a chilly autumn night, wondering where it all started to go wrong.
6.
Hansol meets Seungkwan for the sixth time on Saturday.
He’s sitting in a quiet coffee shop, nervously tapping his shoe against the linoleum floor, earning dirty glares his way but Hansol pays them no mind. He has other things to worry about.
Seungkwannie
Hansol-ah! Are you busy this saturday?
Me
not really
what’s up?
Seungkwannie
Meet me at the coffee shop next to the engineering building at 11?
Me
in the morning?
Seungkwannie
Hansol! ㅎ
Why would anyone go to a coffee shop at night?
Does that time work?
Me
aight
see u then
That exchange had been three days ago. After almost a week of radio silence and Seungkwan spilling his emotions out to Hansol. He wonders if this is the end of their pseudo-friendship.
Hansol’s early, almost thirty minutes early, too anxious to do anything else but to sit in this coffee shop, tucked into a table in the corner, just because Hansol doesn’t want people to see him cry when Seungkwan leaves.
Seungkwan must be feeling anxious too because he arrives almost fifteen minutes earlier than their arranged time and spots Hansol almost immediately.
“Hi Hansol,” Seungkwan says, with a smile that desperately tries to stay up. Hansol feels abruptly terrified of what’s about to occur.
“I bought you an iced americano,” Hansol says, “hope you don’t mind.”
Seungkwan looks shocked at that and sits down in the chair across from him, taking a long sip of the coffee and exhaling. “Thank you,” he says gratefully. Hansol shakes his head and goes back to nursing at his earl grey tea that Minghao had recommended to him a while back.
They both sit in an uncomfortable silence, watching each other.
Hansol’s tired of the lack of communication so he starts the conversation. “Why did you call me here?” He asks quietly.
Seungkwan stares at his coffee cup, “A lot of things happened last Friday,” he says.
Hansol’s not sure where Seungkwan is going with this. “Yeah, that’s true. And what I said then is still true now. I don’t think less of you as a person, all your struggles just make you human.”
“Does that also have the potential to make me your boyfriend?” Seungkwan blurts out.
Hansol freezes. ‘ERROR! ERROR!’ His brain is screaming at him, stuck, while everything else seems to be moving around him at warp speed.
Seungkwan’s face contorts into a mixture of embarrassment and horror as he gets up to leave. Hansol unthinkingly grabs onto his wrist, still trying to make sense of what happened.
“Sit,” Hansol blurts out as he frantically tries to arrange his thoughts.
Seungkwan sits down.
“You like me?” Hansol asks, confused. This probably is a dream of some kind. A very life-like dream, but a dream nonetheless. Maybe Inception style.
“I have a crush on you,” Seungkwan says, looking straight at him. Hansol fights the urge to look away. “Actually, that’s a lie. I am halfway to being in love with you. I never shut up about you. I haven’t even stopped thinking about you since you told me my hair was illegal and disappeared. Every single one of my best friends know about you and they haven’t even met you.
“Mingyu went through all your Instagram pictures and rated them on a scale of cute boyfriend to thot purely on vibes alone. Chan laughed at me for a good five minutes when I first told him and then laughed at me again after you left that day when we were talking about his singing. I listen to all of your songs on loop every day after I begged Jihoon to give me your SoundCloud name. I need to shut up now, literally say something. Say anything. Please.”
Seungkwan sounds scared. Scared of putting his heart out there and being crushed into pieces. Of divulging all of his secrets and his emotions to someone who might not like him back.
“I have a crush on you,” Hansol says faintly. Still trying to process that this is in fact, reality. “Actually, I am halfway to being in love with you.” He says, copying Seungkwan’s words. “I saw you from across the street before I went up to you and then thought I ruined my image forever. And then I saw you, again and again and again. And I want to look at you for the rest of my life. And keep falling in love.”
Hansol is still holding onto Seungkwan’s wrist. He squeezes it gently, to show his sincerity.
“I had a really bad break-up,” Seungkwan murmurs, his free hand curling around the americano. “Months before I even met you. He was an absolute asshole to all of my friends, I was just happy that someone liked me for, you know, me.” Seungkwan smiles sadly, breaking eye contact and staring at the grain of the wood table.
“He would sweet talk me and buy me flowers but never the right kind. Buy me coffee but would never remember my order. Would tell me he loved me but never meant it.” Seungkwan looks back up and the sorrow inside of his eyes makes Hansol’s chest clench.
“I was tired of pretending, so I broke up with him. Before he left, he told me that I wasn’t worth loving. That he only pretended because that was all anybody could with me. Pretend that they love me.” Seungkwan smiles bitterly.
Hansol’s other hand is clenched tightly against his thigh, “Where is this bastard now?” He asks, so that maybe his fist and the bastard’s face can have a nice long chat.
Seungkwan’s smile turns into something more filled with laughter, “Don’t worry about it, Soonyoung hyung dealt with him. But after that, I didn’t want to date anyone. I didn’t even want to talk to anyone. But you, Chwe Hansol, have taken over my brain. Have taken it over completely. And if I didn’t tell you I liked you soon, I would have literally exploded.
“I just wanted to say this, to get this off of my chest before you say anything else—”
Hansol leans over the table and kisses him.
It’s not a kiss really, it’s more of a peck, a quick brush of their lips. A reassurance that Hansol will always be there through the good and the bad. He pulls back, already lamenting the loss of the softness of Seungkwan’s lips and the surprise taste of citrus lip balm.
Seungkwan’s staring at him, cheeks shaded in a rosy hue. “Yah, Chwe Hansol,” he grumbles, looking secretly pleased. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Date me maybe?” Hansol asks, grinning stupidly back at Seungkwan.
Seungkwan huffs, fighting against his growing smile. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“Yep,” Hansol says, having no clue if he’s actually free. It’s okay, he can just reschedule.
“Take me to Myeongdong during lunch and we’ll have our first date there?” Seungkwan asks, twisting his fingers together.
“Yeah sure,” Hansol says, “I’ll take Seungcheol hyung’s car and pick you up from wherever you are and drive us there.” He isn’t actually sure if Seungcheol will let him take his car but Seungcheol is also a firm believer of love so he’ll take his chances.
“I should go,” Seungkwan says, “Seokmin hyung is probably worried about me.”
“Ok,” Hansol says, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Hansol,” Seungkwan says, gently amused. “In order to leave, you need to let go of my wrist.”
Hansol forces himself to let go of Seungkwan’s wrist. “Bye Boo,” he murmurs, watching Seungkwan as he disappears out of the shop and into the streets, coffee cup clutched tightly in his hands, and the last pieces of Hansol’s heart alongside it.
7.
He’s watching Seungkwan flit from stall to stall looking at fresh vegetables on a bright Sunday morning, many, many weeks after their first date.
Maybe it’s fate. Maybe they were destined to be together, Hansol and Seungkwan, two opposites who will always attract.
He takes Seungkwan to Florida immediately after they graduate. Seungkwan takes the bits and pieces of English he learned for Hansol’s mom and Sofia with him. His mom pulls out Korean words she hasn’t used in years to bridge the language barrier and greets him with a soft hug. Sofia lands in Florida later and both of them immediately join forces, being even more of a risk to Hansol’s poor heart than they already are. His mom joins in on the teasing and they spend their time soaking in the sun, laughing, and finally feeling content.
Seungkwan takes Hansol to Jeju a couple months later as Hansol meets the people that have shaped Seungkwan’s life and desperately wants to be a part of it too. He laughs as tangerine juices drip from his chin and yelps at the cold ocean water gently lapping at his toes. And he’s happy, so happy, it feels like his heart is going to burst.
They have a small apartment now, in a quiet neighborhood in the southside of Seoul, within a thirty minute bus ride of most of their friends.
Hansol has his cat, Leo, a spit-fire Maine Coon that grabs Hansol’s heart the second he sees it curled up in a dark alley-way on his way home from the grocery store. Seungkwan has his cute maltese, Bookkeu, that wanders between their house and his sisters’ and more often than not ends up curled in front of Hansol’s legs when he’s working on a track.
Their living conditions are not ideal. Terrible water heating and an even more terrible stove to go along with it. Air-conditioning that barely works on a good day and more than forty-five minutes from the vocal studio Seungkwan works at, finding his passion in teaching kids how to tap into their singing potential rather than sing himself. Their apartment is within walking distance of the studio he works at with Jihoon, both of them independent producers slowly working their way up the ranks.
But it’s theirs. An apartment that they bought together after seven months of deliberation and wondering if they would be able to live with each other or not. Two days of all their friends kidnapping them, sitting them down, making them realize that their life would be so much better together rather than apart, and then moving them two weeks later.
Seungkwan does busking shows sometimes, collecting money for local animal shelters. With all ten of Hansol’s and Seungkwan’s closest friends sitting front and center, cheering him on.
And maybe Jihoon makes a surprise performance or Soonyoung and Seokmin join Seungkwan, or Jeonghan, Joshua, Jihoon, Seokmin, and Seungkwan blow everyone away with a heart-wrenching ballad that makes everyone cry. And maybe Hansol joins Seungkwan, rapping about their walks along the Hongdae river and how he grows up beside the person he loves the most and how everything will be alright.
And Hansol wakes up at exactly five in the morning, right when Seungkwan’s alarm starts ringing, turns it off for him, and stares, taking in the breathtaking beauty of Seungkwan. Of the beautiful curve of his eyebrows, his glowing cheekbones, the small curve of his soft, kiss-bitten lips, the soft peacefulness of his face before they both face the hecticness of their day.
It’s safe to say that Hansol is in love.
Not that Seungkwan doesn’t know. He knew from the end of their first date when Seungkwan was getting out of Seungcheol’s car after Hansol parked in front of his dorm. Hansol had grabbed his wrist and told him “I love you.”
And a flustered Seungkwan diving back inside, grabbing his shirt and kissing him, telling him “I love you” in between each gasp of breath.
Now, Hansol stares at Seungkwan, bargaining with an ahjumma over the price of apples and Hansol immediately starts making plans to fly all of their friends out to Florida, cataloging their schedules and praying that a summer wedding would work because Sofia would absolutely murder him otherwise.
Mingyu is already making noises about being the chef at a wedding that Hansol and Seungkwan haven’t even thought about yet and Seungcheol had pulled him aside earlier to tell him that Jeonghan is getting antsy so he better do something quick. Seungkwan is warming up to Seungyoun and Kyochang and is already best friends with Tobi’s sister.
Yeah, Hansol thinks in the bright warmth of the summer sun shining down on him. This is the rest of his life.
Seungkwan is wearing an interestingly numbered patterned green button down with a white mesh shirt underneath that shows the bruises that Hansol left on his collarbones earlier that morning. His hair is a bright fire-truck red that Hansol had jokingly picked out for him at the hair salon but Seungkwan went with it anyway. Hansol had immediately dragged him to bed after Seungkwan came home, hair matching his beautiful, vibrant personality, and ruined him.
He thinks of the ring that’s been catching his eye sitting in a jewelry store display case every time they go to the mall and the small amounts of money he’s been saving up here and there and the knowing glances everyone gives him during their Saturday brunches.
Seungkwan is done haggling with the ahjumma and whips his head around to look for Hansol, balancing bags upon bags of food.
Hansol immediately makes his way to Seungkwan’s side, “Successful purchase?” He asks, taking some of the groceries himself.
Seungkwan immediately loops his free hand around Hansol’s, “Yeah,” he says cheerily, pressing a kiss to Hansol’s cheek. “I might give these to Mingyu to make some apple cake or something because he’s been complaining about not getting good fruit.”
“Sounds good Boo,” Hansol says as they loop through the busy market.
Seungkwan’s attention is caught by the colorful cotton candy someone is selling and eagerly makes his way over, as Hansol hangs behind.
“Hey Boo!” Hansol calls out once Seungkwan is a good distance away. Seungkwan immediately turns around. “I’m pretty sure your hair is illegal.” A deep breath, because he needs maximum lung capacity for this, “And I’m in love with you!” Seungkwan’s answering smile rivals the midday sun.
Yeah, he’s going to marry him and Hansol knows he wants to spend forever with Seungkwan on a Sunday.