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“Seonghwa, your boyfriends are here!” Yunho calls from the register. This is nothing new.
Seonghwa is prepared to respond with, “You know they’re dating each other and not me, right?” as usual, but is cut off by Wooyoung shouting, “Baby!” at the top of his lungs. This is nothing new, either. They’re going to get an official noise complaint one of these days, and Seonghwa’s manager will finally have to put her foot down about the amount of time his visitors are allowed to spend loitering and generally being a distraction to everyone in the vicinity, Seonghwa included.
Seonghwa exits the back room of the café to see San and Wooyoung leaning over the register counter, matching grins and starry eyes directed at him. Or, maybe, that last part is just some good old-fashioned, on-brand projection.
Wooyoung makes grabby hands at him once he’s close enough. Seonghwa allows himself to be pulled into their orbit. They lean in simultaneously to plant wet, exaggerated kisses on either side of his face. Seonghwa, although used to this kind of treatment, is still very easily flustered. This is a fact San and Wooyoung know well.
Seonghwa shrinks away from the attention and any further public embarrassment, swatting at them weakly, but his heart soars in his chest at the picture of them so satisfied in teasing him. Not only that, they’re here to see him. That realization never fails to wedge something dense and warm-blooded into the center of his ribcage.
“Hi, you two,” he greets, pointedly ignoring just how obviously fondness bleeds into his voice. “Are you here to support a local business or are you just here to keep me from doing my job?”
“Neither!” Wooyoung chirps, one arm now resting on San’s shoulder as he leans his full weight against him. “Sannie has to print something out before his next class but we thought we’d come see you since you’re on the way. Are you coming over tonight?”
Seonghwa guides them down to the other end of the counter so they’re not in the way of any actual paying customers. He makes himself useful by working on a drink order received by Yunho before responding. “No, I’m making sure Hongjoong eats a full meal tonight, then he’s making me critique his latest project, which means he won’t let me leave until he eventually decides on his own that he’s restarting the whole thing. You know how it goes.”
San’s eyebrows furrow in the same way they do whenever Seonghwa informs him that the lemon tarts sold out early that day. “But tomorrow you are, right? Those strawberries in the fridge are gonna go bad if you don’t do anything with them soon.”
“Tomorrow I’m free, yes, but I’ll buy more strawberries just in case. You’ll get your shortcake, Sannie, don’t worry.”
San’s expression brightens immediately. Wooyoung rolls his eyes and bids Seonghwa farewell as he tugs his boyfriend towards the door.
“See you tomorrow night!” Wooyoung calls over his shoulder with a coy grin that he’s perfected to make Seonghwa go red in the ears. “Don’t miss us too much before then!”
As anyone can tell within five minutes of meeting him, talking like he’s flirting is just in Wooyoung’s nature. San is much the same, which is one of the reasons they became so close so quickly. It probably helped them get together sooner, too. Seonghwa has never been the type to be so forward.
Seonghwa has long since learned not to read too much into what they say. They’re dating, he’s their friend and frequent third wheel, and that’s all it’ll ever be.
A peaceful silence makes its return to the shop once the front door closes behind the whirlwind that is San and Wooyoung together. When Yunho’s free of customers, he slides up beside Seonghwa and nudges him with an elbow.
“You know, one of these days I’m gonna tell you your boyfriends are here to see you and it won’t even be a joke.”
Seonghwa waves him off, because what would he know about the dynamic between the three of them? What they have right now is fine, and even if Seonghwa allows himself to wish for more on the nights where he’s drunk and lonely and holed up in an apartment too spacious for less than three people, he’s content with what he has.
Still, he’s not always fast enough to properly stamp out the hope that blooms traitorously inside of him after comments like that.
“Hongjoong, please come home. The children miss you.”
“That plant is not our child, Seonghwa.” Seonghwa can hear Hongjoong furiously scribbling in his sketchpad through the phone speaker even now. “It’s yours. I gave it to you for your birthday, which means you have full custody and it’s no longer my responsibility.”
“But it’s dying! I don’t know how to save dying plants!”
The phone nearly slips out from under Seonghwa’s ear where it’s pressed to his shoulder in between all his animated bickering with Hongjoong and the pan of stir fry veggies he’s tossing around. He hopes the sound of violently sizzling food will be enough to coax Hongjoong back to their shared apartment.
“Still not my responsibility!”
“Well, it’s someone’s responsibility, and it can’t be mine because my responsibility is making sure San and Wooyoung ingest something other than cup ramen and protein shakes. So, your responsibility.”
“Oh, they’re putting you on official housewife duty so soon? But Seonghwa, the wedding date hasn’t even been decided yet!”
Seonghwa scowls at the oil bubbling angrily in the base of the wok, shuffling around vegetables with a new vigor. “No, they put me on good caring friend duty because I’m a good caring friend.”
“Maybe you should be put on good caring plant dad duty instead. Let those two be humbled by the college diet on their own.”
“Be home in time for dinner or I’m giving all the stir fry leftovers to Mingi.”
“Stir fry?” Hongjoong gasps. “You should’ve opened with that! I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Seonghwa snorts. He doesn’t know why Hongjoong always tries to fight it when they both know how attached he is to Seonghwa’s cooking.
Hongjoong makes it back to their shared apartment only ten minutes later than expected, just after Mingi. Mingi has his own apartment down the hall and he joins them for dinner whenever he misses Seonghwa’s cooking or doesn’t have enough money for takeout, which are both common occurrences. He’s majoring in some field of Engineering that Seonghwa was too intimidated by to ask about when they first met and now pretends he remembers, so Mingi is a certifiable genius when it comes to academics, but he never learned how to do more in the kitchen than stick things in the microwave and hope for the best. Since Seonghwa apparently collects people who don’t know how to feed themselves properly, he handed Mingi a spare key and told him to drop by any time. He doesn’t live there, but he almost does.
“I’ll be with San and Wooyoung tomorrow, so try to finish off the lasagna that’s in the fridge,” Seonghwa says once they're all scraping up the last of the food on their plates. “If you don’t finish it, just stick it in the freezer or see if Mrs. Noh from downstairs wants it.”
“Will do,” Mingi replies, taking another heaping bite of food. Seonghwa tries not to grimace when he doesn’t wait to swallow before speaking again. “You three got any plans?”
Seonghwa smiles, mostly to himself. San bugged him and Wooyoung about this relentlessly for over a month, and they’re finally getting around to doing it.
“We’re making strawberry shortcake,” he explains. Food is the one thing he really lets himself splurge on, so he makes it a habit to try new out recipes whenever he finds the time. His friends are perhaps even more enthusiastic about his hobby than he is since it means free homemade food for them. “Wooyoung will help, but I bet San will just sit there and look pretty until it’s time to eat.”
Mingi and Hongjoong share a look.
“What?” Seonghwa asks.
Hongjoong clears his throat, setting his utensils to the side. “Nothing, just, um… did those two ever talk to you?”
“Talk to me? They talk to me all the time.”
“No, like, has anything… changed between you guys?”
“Changed?” Seonghwa frowns. Where did this come from? Are they staging an intervention right now?
Mingi cuts in. “We support you, you know. Like, that wouldn’t be weird or anything. We’re totally cool with it.”
Hongjoong glances at Mingi and then back to Seonghwa, nodding resolutely.
Seonghwa has a brief moment of déjà vu that brings him back to the time he sat his parents down on freshman year move-in day and went through the whole, “Mom, Dad, I’m gay,” spiel. Sitting through their stilted, agonizing, I’ve-never-had-to-do-this-before-but-I’m-trying reassurances afterwards is not something he ever thought he’d have to relive, and it’s certainly not the kind of feeling he’d expect to get from Hongjoong and Mingi with no apparent prompting.
“Nothing’s changed between us,” Seonghwa says slowly. “At least, I don’t think so. Is there something that should have?”
His friends’ expressions morph into open-mouthed alarm.
“Oh, no!” Hongjoong quickly declares. “No, nothing. We were just saying— like, if you were to—“
“He means that if something changed between you three, like, say Wooyoung and San broke up—“
“Wooyoung and San broke up? ” Seonghwa demands, reeling from the sudden direction this conversation has taken.
“No! They didn’t!” Hongjoong insists, whacking Mingi in the shoulder and giving him another meaningful look as if he were trying to communicate telepathically.
“I meant—“ Mingi begins.
“We meant, ” Hongjoong stresses, cutting him off, “we’re your friends no matter what and you can tell us anything. There’s no judgment in this apartment, okay?”
“To be fair, there is a little judgment,” Mingi reasons.
“Only over your plant neglect, Seonghwa. Nothing else. The point is, everything is fine, and you never need to worry about coming to us. You can depend on other people too, sometimes.”
While touched by the sentiment, that spectacle just now seemed very out of place. Seonghwa isn't sure how to process it, so he decides to not even try.
“I’m just gonna… go to bed,” Seonghwa says, glancing between Hongjoong and Mingi suspiciously. “Don’t leave the kitchen a mess. Have Mingi help with your project, Hongjoong. Goodnight.”
Later, after changing into comfortable clothes and slipping into bed for the night, he checks his phone to find notifications for his group chat with San and Wooyoung.
dream threesome
Sannie
yo we ate all the strawberries :-(
Wooyoungie
SAN ate all the strawberries
i was an innocent bystander
Sannie
u ?? innocent ?? i have 2 laugh
Wooyoungie
i think we both know who the innocent one here is
Sannie
ya and its me
quick hwa reply so we can flirt w u 2
Wooyoungie
no don’t he’s been practicing lines on me all day and they’re HORRIBLE and CORNY
save yourself while you still can
Longing curls in Seonghwa’s chest the more he reads over the new messages. They were sent recently enough, so he’s sure the two of them are still up.
!! It’s ok I already said I’d pick more up
Wooyoungie
ugh he’s hot AND a provider
Sannie
u called my expert flirtation techniques corny just 2 go n b thirsty right to his face like that
Wooyoungie
it worked on you didn’t it
Sannie
touché
Hey while we’re all here
?? Did either of you talk to Hongjoong or Mingi about something
Sannie
uh
dpends
?? They said something earlier tonight about things changing between us
It was really vague Idk
Wooyoungie
they What
?? Did something change that I wasn’t aware of
Sannie
definitely not
Wooyoungie
hongjoong hasn’t left the studio in like a week and jongho accidentally broke mingi’s headphones the other day so
they aren’t in their right minds right now don’t worry about them
Sannie
u dont have 2 worry around us
nothing between us ever has 2 change if u dont want it 2
Wooyoungie
yeah
anyways isn’t it nearly your bedtime old man
Sannie
ya how r u gonna stay that attractive if u dont get ur beauty sleep ??
Placated and embarrassed, Seonghwa decides that going to sleep as soon as possible is the smartest decision if the two of them are laying it on this thick.
!! Goodnight San
!! Goodnight Wooyoung
Sannie
gn u big cutie <3
Wooyoungie
goodnight to my two favorite people in the world ❤️
“Wooyoung, would you grab the sugar?” Seonghwa asks, keeping his eyes trained on the cutting board so that he doesn’t lose a finger using San and Wooyoung’s shitty utensils. He’s struggling to chop strawberries with a dull butter knife that somehow lost its handle. He considers bringing his own set of knives in the future because these two have absolutely nothing of use in their kitchen. They have a Keroppi-themed cooking timer but not a single good knife?
“Sure thing!” Wooyoung says. He unglues himself from San, who’s sitting at the kitchen counter, tapping away at KartRider and being anything but helpful to the baking process.
Just as Seonghwa drops another handful of chopped strawberries into a bowl, two warm palms reach up to cup his face from behind. He recognizes the smell of Wooyoung’s favorite lotion instantly, and he also knows that San’s hands were the more calloused pair between the two of them.
Seonghwa heaves a sigh, but his chest floods with fondness. Wooyoung’s hands practically vibrate with self-satisfaction against Seonghwa’s cheeks.
“Wooyoung, that is not what I asked for.”
“But you’re so sweet,” Wooyoung explains through a giggle that reminds Seonghwa briefly of the wind chimes strung up outside his family home back in Jinju. “You can’t blame me for getting mixed up, can you?”
“Actually, I can.” He shoves Wooyoung in the direction of the cabinet full of baking supplies and ignores the heat in his face. Logically, he knows that the more time he spends with San and Wooyoung, the more he has to deal with their tendency to act flirtatious. He also knows they’re joking. That’s what makes his pathetic little crush on them, both of them, who are dating each other, even harder to withstand.
Wooyoung returns to Seonghwa’s side with the sugar and the flour because he looked at the recipe ahead of time and actually knows how to be helpful. Seonghwa appreciates San anyway for shouting, “Fuck yeah, let’s go!” every time he does well in his game. Seonghwa likes to pretend he’s cheering them on for baking, instead.
“How long do the biscuits go in for again?” Wooyoung asks once the biscuits are prepped and on the baking sheet, a hand encased in one of the gaudy floral oven mitts San bought him for Christmas last year hovering over the oven dials.
Seonghwa finishes up sprinkling sugar over the chopped strawberries, then turns to scroll through a mile-long chunk of text on his phone that details how some food blogger PTA mom used these shortcakes to restore her failing marriage (or something, it’s not like he read any of it) before he finds the actual recipe.
“Fifteen minutes, but we might want to check on them before then.”
“Seonghwa.” San materializes next to him. He’s wearing the pout that means he will fight tooth and nail to get whatever it is he wants at that moment. “Can I try a strawberry? Just a taste test.”
“No.” Seonghwa knows how this goes. He’ll give in eventually, but he wants San to work for it. Part of him is curious to see how far San will go. “These have to sit in the fridge while the biscuits are in the oven. If you eat them all, we won’t have any for the shortbread, which is the whole reason we bought them, right?”
San groans, but it comes out as more of a whine. He starts poking Seonghwa in the stomach just to be annoying.
“Come on, just one bite? What if they’re poisoned? I’ll make sure they aren’t.”
“They aren’t poisoned.”
“But how do you know?”
“Because I do. Anyway, why would I risk letting you eat poison?”
“Because you love me and you understand that I’m here for a good time, not a long time?”
Seonghwa removes San’s fingers from his waist and gives him a flick to the forehead for the trouble before sticking the bowl of sugared strawberries in the fridge. “Well, I’m here to make sure you’re here for a good time and a long time.”
San whines again. “Wooyoung, tell him I deserve to eat a strawberry.”
Wooyoung bumps playfully into Seonghwa’s back, saying, “Come on, Hwa, let him eat a strawberry.”
“You're a traitor,” Seonghwa informs Wooyoung over his shoulder.
“I’ll let you feed it to me!” San proposes, draping himself across Seonghwa’s front and sandwiching the oldest between him and Wooyoung. “That way you can make sure I only take one.”
Seonghwa cranes his neck back to look San in the eye. The kitchen lights overhead reflect in San’s irises, reminding Seonghwa of the way they looked that time their friends all went camping together during a full moon. San was beautiful then, too. The only difference is that now there’s a slit shaved into his eyebrow and he’s no longer asking to share Seonghwa’s sleeping bag because he forgot his own.
“And you promise you won’t beg for more?” Seonghwa asks.
San grins, knowing exactly how Seonghwa sounds when he's caving. “Promise.”
Seonghwa shuffles back over towards the fridge, a difficult task with both Wooyoung and San still clinging to him and refusing to cooperate, and pulls out the bowl. He plucks the largest chunk of strawberry that he can find in the heap between two fingers, opening his mouth to indicate that San should do the same.
San leans in and closes his lips around the strawberry, brushing over the tips of Seonghwa’s fingers in the process. Seonghwa moves to pull his hand out of the way when San sucks on his fingers, hard, for absolutely no reason. Seonghwa lets out something close to a shriek, stumbling backwards and further into Wooyoung’s chest as the two of them cackle loud enough to rattle Seonghwa’s eardrums.
“Gross!” he exclaims, wiping his hand on San’s shirt in retaliation. “Was that necessary?”
“Didn’t want to leave any juice behind,” San explains, looking entirely too smug.
Seonghwa covers his face with his clean hand. Wooyoung wraps his arms around Seonghwa’s middle as comfort, even as he giggles squeakily into Seonghwa’s neck at his expense.
Seonghwa doesn’t think he’ll ever learn how to handle these two.
“It’s getting late,” Wooyoung notes later that night after they ate their fill of shortcake, frowning at the clock on the wall.
“I guess it is,” Seonghwa says, toying with the strings on the hoodie he borrowed from San. They aren’t in the middle of anything important, just crammed onto the thrifted sofa in San and Wooyoung’s living room while Pawn Stars reruns play on the TV, but Seonghwa still doesn’t want to leave.
“You can sleep over,” San suggests, taking notice of his hesitation. He leans across Wooyoung sitting in the middle to meet Seonghwa’s eyes with sincerity in his own. “You know we don’t mind.”
Seonghwa hums. “I know, but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow and my old man bones probably wouldn’t be too happy sleeping on the couch all night.”
“You can sleep in our bed,” Wooyoung offers.
“Wh— I’m not making you two share the sofa!” Seonghwa exclaims, almost offended they think he’d be selfish enough to accept.
“We can share the bed, then,” San interjects. He shares a brief look with Wooyoung that Seonghwa can’t decipher. “It’s big enough for all three of us. You know, sometimes Wooyoung and I feel like it’s too big for just us.”
Seonghwa knows that their dynamic is a little out of the ordinary. People don’t usually choose to spend most of their free time as a third wheel, and few couples like having one around, either. But, well, he never feels like a third wheel. San and Wooyoung are his best friends, just as they have been since before those two started dating, and they always make sure he feels included. Sure, they’re handsy, but they’re just as handsy with Seonghwa as they are with each other. He doesn’t mind seeing them being cuddly and domestic, not really, because it isn’t jealousy that he feels for either of them.
He just feels longing, because he wants to be a part of it, and it’s pitiful because they’d never see him in that way. They have all they need in each other. All they could ever want from Seonghwa is his friendship.
And that’s fine. At least, that’s what he tells himself.
Still, the three of them haven’t all shared a bed together since San and Wooyoung started dating. While it is just San and Wooyoung, Seonghwa’s best friends and the two people he’s been in love with since the start of his second year, they’re still a couple. Regardless of how unorthodox the trio is together, regardless of his romantic feelings towards the pair, Seonghwa still feels like spending the night in a couple’s bed with them is objectively weird.
“I don’t— I wouldn’t want to intrude—“
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Wooyoung assures, resting a pacifying hand on his arm. “It’s just us, right?”
Seonghwa grimaces. “You wouldn’t, like, have sex with me in the bed, right?”
“Only if you wanted to join.” San’s smirk is catlike. Seonghwa has begun to associate that look with his undoing.
All of Seonghwa’s trepidation vanishes in favor of exasperation, and he shoves at Wooyoung’s shoulder so that he and San topple over like dominos.
“Alright, I’ll sleep over,” Seonghwa grunts, as if that wasn't what he wanted all along. “Just get me a spare toothbrush and a change of clothes. And put on Nat Geo, we watch this crap all the time and I’m sick of it.”
“I’m ignoring the fact that you insulted Pawn Wars in front of me just this once, only because you're staying the night, so count your blessings, pretty boy,” Wooyoung threatens, jabbing a finger into Seonghwa’s sternum. "We're keeping it on. Not your apartment, not your choice."
Seonghwa picks up the remote and changes the channel himself.
“Fine!” Wooyoung squawks, nearly elbowing San in the face with how indignantly he crosses his arms. “See if I give you any clothes! Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about respect after sleeping in skinny jeans!
For moments like this, enduring heartache is worth it. Seonghwa can act normal. He’s done it successfully for the past two years, after all. What’s a few more?
Seonghwa is having a crisis.
“I’m having a crisis.”
Hongjoong stops pouring his cereal to look up at Seonghwa incredulously. “Dude, you already spent, like, twenty minutes on your hair. You look fine.”
“Not that,” Seonghwa huffs, slumping into a chair at their kitchen table. “San and Wooyoung.”
“Oh.” Hongjoong sobers immediately, bringing his cereal bowl over to the table to join Seonghwa. “Elaborate?”
Seonghwa rolls his lips between his teeth, trying to find words that don’t make him sound like a miserable, pathetic fool. He cannot act normal. He doesn’t know how he made it this long without blowing a fuse or embarrassing himself to the point of no return in front of his best friends.
See? Miserable and pathetic. He can’t lie to Hongjoong, though, so he’ll have to give up his dignity and go with the full truth.
“Okay, so, you know how we met them because Yeosang brought them to your birthday party at the beginning of our second year?” Hongjoong nods. “And you remember how the three of us became best friends right away? Yeah. I mean, I always thought they were attractive, because have you seen them—don’t look at me like that—and I’ve always been drawn to them. In every way possible. Like, it’s obvious, right? They mean everything to me. So, my point is that they’re my best friends and I love them to death as friends but I also, maybe, love them as… more than friends.”
Hongjoong blinks.
“Like, both of them,” Seonghwa clarifies. “Equally. Even though they’ve been dating each other for over a year. Like, I was in love with them before that.”
Hongjoong blinks again.
“Please say something,” Seonghwa begs, throat feeling tight. It’s weird, it must be. Him having feelings for two people, his best friends who are dating, it’s all weird. He trusts Hongjoong, but anxiety prickles at his skin regardless because he knows this is a big thing to reveal.
“Okay,” Hongjoong says. He picks up his spoon and goes back to eating his cereal like all Seonghwa told him was the day’s forecast.
“Okay?" Seonghwa feels lightheaded.
“Okay, so you like San and Wooyoung,” Hongjoong says, slowly and unruffled, as if he were explaining something very simple and not one of the largest sources of Seonghwa’s stress over the past two years. “Big whoop. You all basically act like you’re married to each other anyways. Polyamorous relationships aren’t that uncommon, Seonghwa.”
“Not like, love, Hongjoong! With my best friends! Who are dating each other, not me, because they only see me as a friend! And it’s so much harder when they call me pet names, or hold my hand, or sleep in the same bed as me, for fuck’s sake!”
“You slept in their bed with them? Wow. And you’re sure you aren’t actually dating?”
“Yes.”
Hongjoong scratches the back of his neck, appearing to choose his next words carefully. “I think you should tell them, Hwa. I mean, if it’s eating you up this much, you gotta get it off your chest. They’re your best friends. They wouldn’t run screaming just because you’ve got a crush on them.”
“What would I even say? ‘Hey guys, I know you’re dating and all, but I’ve had a big, fat, embarrassing crush on the both of you since we met. Room for one more?'"
“I think that would work, actually.” Seonghwa drops his head into his hands with a self-pitying groan. “Listen, it’s not weird or embarrassing or whatever to have feelings for people, even if they’re your best friends and even if it’s more than one person at the same time. Honestly, I think it’d be weird if you only liked one of them, because jealousy’s kinda… not it. You don’t, though, so either they want to date you, too, or they don’t and you get over it. Wouldn’t you at least want to see if you have a chance?”
“Not if it means they get weirded out and stop talking to me.”
Hongjoong sighs quietly and reaches across the table to coax a hand away from Seonghwa’s face. He grips it tightly, and now Seonghwa can see all the concern and earnestness held in his expression.
“Think about it, okay?” Hongjoong says, his smile encouraging in the way only he can pull off. “You don’t know if you don’t try. They deserve an opening to express their own feelings for you. Give them a chance to love you back, yeah?”
Seonghwa nods, despite all his fear. It feels good to have told someone, at least.
Telling Wooyoung and San is another situation entirely.
“You two have date plans anytime soon?” Seonghwa asks conversationally, scrolling absently through his phone when he really should start this essay that’s due next week. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
San and Wooyoung are seated at the same table with him in the campus library. Wooyoung’s reading a random comic book that he picked up on their way in while San has his laptop out. By the agitated grunts he lets out intermittently, he’s probably playing one of the many online games he’s invested too much time and money into rather than doing any schoolwork.
So much for their study session. Seonghwa swears he came here with every intention to get things done, but he’s been a little more on edge since his conversation with Hongjoong. He has considered talking to his best friends about it, of course, but all the courage he manages to scrape together leaves him the moment he meets their eyes. So, sue him if he’s not able to focus with the two of them sitting so close and looking as good as they do. So what if all they’re wearing is old sweatpants and matching Bape hoodies? Seonghwa is a weak, weak man.
San hums, not looking up from his computer screen. “There’s a mini golf place nearby that we’ve been meaning to check out. Haven’t gotten around to it, though.”
“Oh, yeah, we should do that soon,” Wooyoung notes. He turns to Seonghwa. “You wanna join us?”
Seonghwa splutters. “I— I mean, sure,” More than you know, he thinks to himself, “but that’s your date! I don’t want to intrude on your relationship any more than I already do. You know you guys can do things without me sometimes, right?”
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” San asserts, serious. He’s not looking at his computer anymore. “You never are. We want to spend time with you, okay? We aren’t just letting you tag along. You’re here because we want you to be.”
Seonghwa ducks his head, unprepared for the sudden confession.
“Still,” he says, unable to help the way his voice shrinks, “it’s your date.”
“Seonghwa,” Wooyoung calls softly. Seonghwa glances up to meet his eyes, and is taken aback once again by how utterly serious they are about this. “San and I want to go mini golfing with you. Do you want to join us?”
Seonghwa chews at his lip before eventually nodding. The couple’s faces brighten simultaneously.
“Great,” Wooyoung says, leaving over to jostle Seonghwa’s knee for no reason other than to touch. Neither he nor San know how to keep their hands to themself. At least, not when the three of them are together. “Is everyone free this weekend?”
Somehow, Seonghwa feels like he just sealed his fate.
Everyone is free that weekend. Seonghwa still hasn’t written his essay, but that’s currently the least of his worries.
“Do you think it’s weird that I’m dressing up?” Seonghwa calls through the house from in front of the bathroom mirror, shifting around in his leather jacket. He doesn’t bring it out often, only when he wants to impress. “I mean, they said they were gonna go there for a date. Do you think they’re still thinking of it that way? Like, should I be dressing up for their date because I’m there too?”
Hongjoong appears in the doorway.
“They said they were going there on a date?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“Well, they were, but then they invited me, so I don’t want to be underdressed in case they’re still planning on looking nice. Nicer, I should say. They always look nice.”
Hongjoong grimaces but doesn’t reprimand him for gushing. Now that Seonghwa’s actually able to talk to someone about his feelings, it’s harder than ever to keep it all in.
“Keep what you’ve got on. You look good, they’ll like it.”
Seonghwa tries not to think too hard about that last part.
The front door opens when Seonghwa’s in the middle of dicking around with eyeliner. He’s done this much already, so he figures he might as well go the extra mile in dressing up.
“Seonghwa, can I borrow some laundry detergent?” Mingi hollers through the apartment.
“Not even a hello?” Seonghwa snipes without any real heat. “Yeah, it’s in here, come get it.”
Mingi bustles into the bathroom past him, snatching up the jug of detergent after being pointed to the shelf it’s kept on. When he turns to leave, he finally gets a good look at Seonghwa.
“Damn,” Mingi says, eyeing his outfit and half-finished makeup. “Got a hot date or something?”
“He sure does!” Hongjoong calls before Seonghwa can even open his mouth to respond. Seonghwa thinks they should look into getting an apartment with thicker walls; Hongjoong is nosy enough to be a liability. “He's going mini golfing with San and Wooyoung!”
“Dude, no fucking way!” Mingi gasps, slapping Seonghwa on the back so hard he stumbles, like an overexcited Saint Bernard that doesn’t know its own strength. To Hongjoong, he yells, “I told you, didn’t I? I knew they’d get together before graduation!”
Seonghwa can’t help his glare. He knows Mingi means well, but he’s tired of getting his hopes up because of the jokes his friends make. “Stop that. It’s not a date. Not mine, anyways. You know we aren’t dating, and we won’t ever, so stop joking about it.”
"Oh." Mingi gapes, eyebrows pinching in remorse. “Sorry, Hwa. I guess I misread.”
“It’s fine,” Seonghwa assures, patting Mingi on the shoulder and conjuring up a strained smile. “Go do your laundry. Just drop the detergent off when you’re done with it.”
Mingi departs with another meek apology, and Seonghwa regrets snapping at him over an honest mistake. He makes a mental note to look for places that serve chicken adobo in the area to make it up to him sometime soon. Then, he shakes himself and starts lining his other eye. He doesn’t want to be stuck wallowing in self-pity when Wooyoung and San arrive.
After he’s put on his nicest cologne and thoroughly annoyed Hongjoong with all his worrying about if it’s too much, a series of incessant knocks at the door tell Seonghwa that the duo has arrived. San wolf whistles the second the door swings open.
“All that just for us?” he asks, giving Seonghwa a once-over.
Seonghwa flushes, rolling his eyes and shooing them out of the doorway so he can lock it behind the three of them. Inwardly, he preens at the fact that his extra effort today was appreciated, even if he knows San is exaggerating his reaction as a joke.
Before Seonghwa can get the door fully shut, Wooyoung chirps, “Hi, Joong! Bye, Joong!” to Hongjoong sitting at the kitchen table and drinking coffee at 6 p.m. like a heathen.
“Hi, Joong! Bye, Joong!” San parrots. It’s only once Hongjoong waves his own farewell that the pair allow Seonghwa to manhandle them towards the elevator.
The sky is painted with a swirl of grayscale clouds that threaten a storm in the near future. Seonghwa holds a palm open as he glances upwards once they step outside. He finds no rain, but the air is thick with the promise of it.
“Is the mini golf place indoors or outdoors?” Seonghwa wonders.
Wooyoung hums shortly in thought, following Seonghwa’s gaze up to the dark storm clouds. “Outdoors, I think. We should bring the umbrella when we go in.”
Wooyoung calls dibs on shotgun the moment San’s car looms into view down the road. San wraps his arms around him before he can dash off and tells Seonghwa to take his seat.
“Save yourself!” San wails, struggling against Wooyoung kicking his legs out to escape. Seonghwa plays along, sprinting to the car like his life depends on it. Maybe it does. That’s the thing about San and Wooyoung; Seonghwa lets himself get swept up in their energy with little regard for reality or consequences. They tell him to jump, he asks how high.
“San, what the fuck!” Wooyoung screeches amidst his signature squeaky giggles. Seonghwa could pick him out in a crowd from the sound of those alone. “I called dibs!”
“But Seonghwa doesn’t ride in the car with us as much as you!” San reasons through gritted teeth, trying to reach the car keys in his back pocket without releasing his hold. "Let him sit up front!"
Seonghwa’s halfway to the parked car when Wooyoung catches up to him, dangling San’s lanyard teasingly in front of his face as he runs past.
“Don’t let him beat you, Seonghwa!” San encourages from afar, panting with his hands on his knees after the tussle with Wooyoung.
Seonghwa propels into action, chasing after Wooyoung and the tinkling of his laughter as it mixes with the sound of San’s keys rattling against each other. He picks up the pace, reaching out and catching Wooyoung by the waist not a moment too soon. Seonghwa digs his heels into the ground before they can slam headlong into the back bumper of San’s car. Wooyoung shrieks and throws his weight around to try to get Seonghwa off his back, but Seonghwa captures his wrists in one hand and turns him around to press his back against the trunk hatch before he gets very far.
“Give me the keys, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa orders, breathy from the sprinting, as he pushes Wooyoung more firmly into the body of the car. Wooyoung, determined to make Seonghwa's life difficult, wriggles against the hold.
“Never,” Wooyoung says, his grin broad and sharp and enticing. His cheeks are flushed, chest rising and falling in tandem with the rapid beating of Seonghwa’s heart. Wooyoung is staring up at him like he never wants to look at anything else.
Seonghwa becomes distracted enough by the sight that his grip loosens. His only warning is the way Wooyoung’s grin curls at the corners and the glint in his eyes turns mischievous before he snatches his wrists out of Seonghwa’s hold and bolts around to the front of the car. Seonghwa can do nothing but stare after him and press a hand to the heat in his face.
“He’ll do that to you,” San muses with a fond shake of his head, coming up to bump his shoulder into Seonghwa’s. “If he really wanted to, he could steal all my money right in front of me, and I’d be too busy staring at him to notice. He knows exactly how much I like him. You know what I mean, don’t you?”
Seonghwa’s heart drops as he whips his head over to take in San’s face. Is he implying…?
But San isn’t looking at Seonghwa. Rather, at Wooyoung giggling breathlessly to himself as he jumps into the passenger seat. San's eyes are glowing, and their light doesn’t waver when he turns to meet Seonghwa’s alarmed gaze with a radiant smile.
“Just shove him into the backseat,” San advises, nudging Seonghwa towards the right side of the car with a meaningful look in his eyes. “He listens to you.”
Seonghwa, still feeling delirious from that short burst of adrenaline, stumbles over to the car door. He tries to twist his expression into a threatening scowl as he opens it, but it either doesn’t work or Wooyoung is impervious to him because all he gets is Wooyoung sticking his tongue out in return. He doesn’t even care which seat he sits in, but San seems to think he needs to sit up front, and who is Seonghwa to deny him?
“Get in the back, Wooyoung.” Seonghwa lowers his voice dramatically and delights in the way Wooyoung’s laughter turns gleeful.
Wooyoung leans farther into Seonghwa’s personal space than another person might. If he really were another person, Seonghwa might actually kid himself into believing that the way his tone dips into something flirtatious when he speaks next means something.
“Make me,” he breathes, eyes deliberately dark and heavy-lidded like he knows his effect on Seonghwa.
Seonghwa makes him. He maneuvers him up and over the center console as best as he can—with San’s help, of course, because he’s the one with the arm muscles here—to distract from the flush in his face. It works, kind of, even if Wooyoung’s delighted cackles ultimately send more blood rushing to the surface of Seonghwa’s skin.
“What are you all dressed up for anyways, Hwa?” Wooyoung asks once they’re all settled and San’s pulling out of the parking spot, leaning in between the two front seats.
“Nothing,” Seonghwa lies, chewing the inside of his mouth. “I can’t look good just because I want to?”
“You definitely can,” San says, glancing away from the road to eye up his outfit appraisingly for a second time.
“You always look good,” Wooyoung says flippantly, as if it was obvious. “Did you do your own eyeliner? You should do mine sometime. Sannie always puts too much on me.”
“It looks good when I do it like that on myself,” San pouts.
“Yeah, well, maybe you should learn how to make me look good, too.”
“Learn how to do your own eyeliner!”
They’re still bickering when they pull into the mini golfing center, even after Seonghwa agrees to do Wooyoung’s eyeliner three separate times. Wooyoung snatches up the umbrella from the floor of the backseat in case they need it later. After that, they head inside.
Seonghwa has never played mini golf before. He soon finds out that he is atrocious at it.
“It’s doing this on purpose,” Seonghwa declares after his sixth attempt on the same hole. He can still see the beginning of the course a few paces behind them. “The ball can smell my fear, that’s why it won’t go where I tell it to.”
Wooyoung snorts, rubbing a hand between his shoulders sympathetically. He’s not doing much better than Seonghwa, but he’s taking it with enough grace to give Seonghwa the spotlight for his dramatics.
San, on the other hand, is a natural. He insists he’s never played before, but Seonghwa catches him pulling some flashy maneuvers that he has to have practiced. Regardless, he seems happy with himself even while tapping his foot and urging the two of them to hurry up.
“You know what, I’m gonna go on ahead,” San declares eventually, unable to contain his competitive spirit any longer. “You two focus on catching up!”
He scampers off to the next hole after that. Seonghwa admires his dedication to the activity, even though he’s bitter about not getting the hang of it himself.
Wooyoung leans against his little golf club despite it not looking as casual as he probably intended, bending over at an uncomfortably low angle.
“That kid,” he muses. “Always holding himself to a higher standard than everyone else. I wonder if he knows it’s okay to let other people be the dependable ones sometimes.”
He sounds wistful. It’s a little uncharacteristic of him. Wooyoung usually moves too fast and keeps his head held too high to get bogged down by his negative emotions. That, or maybe he just doesn’t share those moments with Seonghwa as often as he could. It’s a quality Seonghwa can appreciate nonetheless. He hopes Wooyoung knows that baring that side of himself won’t lead to criticism, at least not from Seonghwa.
“He worries a lot, you know,” Wooyoung says, turning to meet Seonghwa’s eye. “He just wants to be everyone’s rock, make sure everybody’s comfortable and all that. You especially. He, like, tries to keep himself from wanting anything too much ‘cause he thinks it’s an inconvenience to others. Like he’s not being selfless enough, even though all he's doing is just wanting his own happiness.”
Seonghwa’s golf ball misses the hole again, to absolutely no one’s surprise.
“Why me especially?” he asks, studying Wooyoung through his peripheral as he readjusts his stance and aligns his club with the golf ball.
Wooyoung startles for a moment, as if he said too much. He covers it up quickly, though, going back to his usual air of nonchalance.
“He cares about you,” Wooyoung says delicately. “We both do. San just wants you to feel comfortable around us.”
“Why would I ever feel uncomfortable around you two?” Seonghwa’s chest hurts at the mere thought of it. “You’re my best friends.”
Wooyoung smiles then, almost knowingly. “Like I said, he worries a lot. Maybe it’s because he cares so much about keeping you comfortable that there’s no way you could ever feel the opposite.”
Seonghwa ponders this, glancing back over to San in time to see him untangle himself from an overly theatrical pose that appears to be the source of all his mini golfing skills. He hasn’t really considered that side of San before, but he supposes it makes sense. He puts so much effort into being social and easygoing, and even more into assuaging any fear he detects in Seonghwa simply by reading his body language. It’s impressive how well he can pick up on those things.
San is the kind of person you only meet once in life, he thinks.
Perhaps invigorated by this newfound wave of pride in his best friend, Seonghwa’s next attempt is successful. He and Wooyoung make it to the next hole just as San is leaving it.
“Quit gossiping like old ladies and pick up the pace!” he taunts, sauntering off to the hole marked by a quaint little windmill display.
Seonghwa meets Wooyoung’s eyes again, and their matching smiles are instantaneous.
It’s late in the evening by the time they finish. Seonghwa heads off in search of the bathroom before they leave the facility.
Weaving his way back to the front entrance through squirrelly children and their exhausted parents takes some time. He has to pat his hands dry on his jeans since the bathrooms were out of paper towels and the air dryer was broken, which is uncomfortable to say the least. He supposes it’s all part of the experience, even if he did expect more from a newly opened family center.
He finds Wooyoung and San wrapped up in each other outside, gazing out at the tiny patch of cloudless sky that reveals a blazing orange sunset while they wait for him. Wooyoung’s head is pillowed against San’s shoulder, and San’s own is nestled into the crown of Wooyoung’s. Black hair tangles with more black so that one is indistinguishable from the other. Seonghwa can’t be sure he’s ever felt the same amount of pure contentment they seem to be feeling right now while encased in each other’s arms. Seonghwa wants.
They really do look good together. Seonghwa tries not to let that hurt too much.
He walks up behind them, swinging the umbrella around in his fingers as he goes.
“Ready to go?” he asks, heart thudding erratically when he sees how their faces light up in tandem at the sight of him.
Wooyoung reaches out to grab his hand, smiling so warmly that Seonghwa doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“Now we are,” Wooyoung says, quiet and bashful, like it’s a secret only to be shared between the three of them.
Almost immediately after he finishes speaking, the sky opens up above them in the beginnings of a torrential downpour. Seonghwa hastily opens up the umbrella and slots himself in between the pair. They huddle up next to him under the covering. Seonghwa’s chest swells protectively, as if keeping the two of them dry was the one duty he was put on Earth to uphold.
At the edge of the sidewalk, they stop to let a minivan drive by. San glances down at their feet.
“Look!” he calls, pointing to a crack in the pavement at the same time he crouches down to pick something up out of it.
It’s a lone flower, long, lithe, and a beautiful, pale shade of lavender. It’s a similar color to Seonghwa’s current hair, the vibrant purple dye having long since faded.
San plucks it out of the ground from the very base of its stem, straightening up to tuck it into the hand Seonghwa has curled around the umbrella handle.
“‘The flower that blooms from the umbrella,’” he recites, glancing between the two of them with an otherworldly shine in his eyes. “It’s us.”
Seonghwa feels his heart bloom dangerously in his chest, pressing against every rib it can reach like it’s trying to escape and spare him the pain. Soon, it will become too much for him to bear. After that, Seonghwa is sure, the whole thing will shatter.
“You want us to walk you up?” San asks, fingers hovering uncertainly over the key still stuck into the ignition.
“It’s fine,” Seonghwa assures, smiling teasingly. “Go pretend to be gentlemanly towards someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do.”
San grins like he’s been caught, even though they both know his offer was genuine.
“We’ll see you soon, okay?” Wooyoung says.
“Of course. Thanks for tonight.”
Seonghwa hops out of the car and turns around in time to see Wooyoung clambering over the center console and into the seat he occupied a moment ago. He waves at them until the car turns around a corner and disappears from sight. It’s only then that he lets his shoulders droop.
“I feel like they took a melon baller and, like, scooped out everything in my chest cavity,” he tells Hongjoong the moment he makes it into the apartment, flopping lifelessly onto the couch next to him.
“Poor thing. You always get morbid when you’re sad,” Hongjoong coos sympathetically, patting his thigh. “Oh! Speaking of melon ballers, you should make hwachae soon. I think watermelon is still in season.”
“Thanks for the support,” Seonghwa drawls sarcastically, voice muffled by the couch cushion he has his face stuffed into.
Seonghwa makes good on his promise to do Wooyoung’s eyeliner a few weeks later. He’s back in their apartment, the three of them spending the whole day lazing around and flipping through the section of cable channels that holds the so-bad-it’s-good reality TV.
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Wooyoung announces sometime after lunch, “I have to go to a fundraiser with Yeosang in about an hour, so don’t, like, throw a party without me.”
“What’s it for?” Seonghwa inquires.
“No idea. I know it’s some department alumni dinner thing, so I have to wear something nicer than a t-shirt, but other than that I don’t know what’s gonna happen. We probably just sit and listen to some random guy who wrote a memoir about the time he went backpacking in France coming to ‘inspire the young hopefuls’ in the Lit Department, or some shit.”
Seonghwa hums. “Are you going to do your makeup before you go? I can do your eyeliner, if you want.”
“Of course I want!” Wooyoung exclaims. “Holy fuck, I thought you were joking when you said you would. This is the best day of my life. Hang on, I'll be right back.”
He dashes off in the direction of the bathroom. Seonghwa glances at San in mild fear and gets a resigned nod of solidarity back.
“San, we’re using your eyeliner,” Wooyoung declares when he returns, makeup bag in hand.
San sighs loudly. It’s full of nothing but fondness. “Of course you are. You don’t even own an eyeliner pen.”
Wooyoung digs around in the makeup bag before finding the pen and flinging it at San for the sass. Then, he settles beside Seonghwa on the couch and drops the bag in his lap.
“You want me to do all your makeup?” Seonghwa asks.
“Yup.”
“Are you sure? You’re better with eye makeup than me.”
“Positive.”
Seonghwa doesn’t have it in him to say no, not when Wooyoung’s looking at him with so much bright-eyed expectancy mixed with adoration that Seonghwa is sure his legs would buckle with the force of it were he standing up.
He rifles through the bag for a couple minutes to take stock of everything that’s there. He begins applying foundation, finding himself shifting every few moments to find an angle that works. None of them do.
“Sit back,” Wooyoung orders after a few more agonizing moments of Seonghwa struggling to find a comfortable position. Seonghwa obeys without question, because he’s smitten and trusts Wooyoung maybe a little too much.
Then, Wooyoung shifts the makeup bag off of Seonghwa’s lap before bringing a leg over his thighs and replacing the bag with himself. Wooyoung is straddling him. In broad daylight. San is right there.
“Subtle today, aren’t we?” San snickers. Seonghwa isn’t sure which one of them he’s referring to.
“Shut up,” Wooyoung snaps. He looks down at Seonghwa, cautious despite all his earlier boldness. “This better?”
“Y-yeah, it’s—“ Seonghwa swallows, tongue suddenly feeling too large for his mouth. “Yeah, it’s better. Thanks.”
Wooyoung grins. “Anytime.”
Seonghwa isn't sure how he manages to do up Wooyoung’s face without experiencing heart failure or something equally disastrous. Wooyoung’s cooperative and sits still, which Seonghwa is thankful for, but it’s the proximity that makes everything so difficult. By the end of it, Seonghwa feels lightheaded with how often he was subconsciously holding his breath.
Applying lip gloss was the worst part. Seonghwa had to lean in to make sure he didn’t smear it, so Wooyoung leaned in to meet him halfway. Seonghwa was painfully aware of how close they were, how in another life, they might be pressed this closely together under a different context. It was almost enough to distract Seonghwa away from noticing how soft Wooyoung’s lips are, how they give under the slightest pressure and shine even without the gloss. It was almost enough to keep Seonghwa from fixating on the mole at the corner of his bottom lip and how overcome he was with the need to touch.
Seonghwa has enough self-control to keep himself from acting on any of these wants, of course, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t painfully obvious. He hopes San watching them from the other end of the couch is merciful enough to look past it, for everyone’s sake.
Wooyoung’s eyes have slipped shut by the time Seonghwa finishes. He looks utterly relaxed, like a cat stroked to sleep. Seonghwa feels dizzy the longer he looks.
“You should get dressed now,” Seonghwa says. It comes out as a whisper. A distinct peace hangs in the air above them, and he’d be hard pressed to disturb it unnecessarily.
Wooyoung’s eyelashes flutter once before parting fully. He seems to come back to Earth from somewhere distant and calm, eyes refocusing on Seonghwa’s with a gentle smile.
“Thanks.” He runs a hand through Seonghwa’s hair, front to back, pushing it out of the way so he can lean down and press a chaste kiss to his forehead. He slips off Seonghwa’s lap and scampers off into his and San’s bedroom to change.
Seonghwa is dazed, feeling as if his soul will float from his body if he doesn’t yank on its chain soon enough. His eyes fall to San and finds him staring back with something unreadable in his gaze. Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem negative, but Seonghwa is still unsettled by the fact that he doesn’t know what to make of it.
He blinks, and the look in San’s eyes is gone, replaced with the usual honey-tinted warmth. He crawls across the couch to drop his head into Seonghwa’s lap, facing the television even though Seonghwa knows he hasn’t been paying any attention to it for the past twenty minutes.
“That looked like fun,” San says around a yawn, tugging at one of Seonghwa’s hands to play with his fingers. “You wanna do mine next time?”
“Sure, whenever you want,” Seonghwa agrees distractedly. He watches as San unconsciously nuzzles into the thick of Seonghwa’s thighs before his body goes lax. Contentedness seems to wash over him, just as it had with Wooyoung. Seonghwa is grateful he has this effect on them. If nothing else, he wants to be a source of comfort they know they can always come to if they need it. That and their friendship is enough for him. Seonghwa knows how to settle when he needs to.
Wooyoung emerges in neat, black slacks a white button down, slightly wrinkled from sitting unused in the closet for too long. His hair is styled off of his forehead to look effortless, like it’s merely the product of his habit of running a hand through his hair all the time. He looks amazing in a different way from what Seonghwa is used to seeing, but the fact that he looks amazing is hardly a new concept.
“You look good,” Seonghwa comments. It’s far too simple for what he really means to say. If he was a braver man, he would recite every corny, overly affectionate compliment currently racing through his mind so Wooyoung could know for sure just how good he looks, just how loved he is. Seonghwa is not brave.
San cranes his head back to get a better look at his boyfriend.
“Goddamn, Wooyoung,” he enthuses, making a show of biting his lip to get a rise out of Wooyoung. Wooyoung thrives on attention, and Seonghwa can’t fault him for that when he deserves it so wholly.
“Yeosangie’s here, so I’ll see you two in a few hours,” Wooyoung says, glancing down to see his lock screen light up with a new text message, presumably Yeosang telling him to get his ass outside. He sends them one last look with a pout for show. “Seonghwa, you better still be here when I come back. Don’t miss me too much, you two!”
“Too late!” San calls back just before the front door swings shut.
The pair left behind waste away another hour watching My Strange Addiction before San insists they switch to Animal Planet. Seonghwa much prefers learning about manta rays to learning about a man and his rather intimate relationship with his car, so he agrees without complaint.
“Here, the two lionesses repose in the shade after a successful hunt,” the jolly British voice actor describes over a scene of the savannah. “One of the males in the pride watches from a distance, wishing to bask in the serendipitous atmosphere alongside them.”
San, now tucked into Seonghwa’s side and occasionally knocking their ankles together in his constant need to keep active, snickers to himself.
“What‘s so funny?” Seonghwa prompts, glancing away from the screen to watch his eyes crinkle at the corners. It’s one of his favorite looks on San.
San points to the male lion, now given a close-up shot on the screen. “That’s you.”
“That’s me?”
San nods, snickering again as he points to the two lionesses regarding the male. “That’s Wooyoung and I.”
Seonghwa frowns, feigning hurt. “But that lion’s a wimp. Am I a wimp to you?”
San laughs harder, slinging an arm over Seonghwa's waist and burrowing his face into his chest. San is naturally very clingy. Seonghwa is an adult. He can handle a little skinship. This is okay.
“I don’t think he’s a wimp. I think he sees two very attractive lions and knows what he wants. That’s pretty cool, if you ask me.”
“Are you saying I want you and Wooyoung?”
“Don’t you?”
Seonghwa goes still. San pulls back to look at him head-on.
“I…” Seonghwa’s brain isn’t working. He doesn’t think his heart is, either. All he can hear is a panicked buzzing in his ears, so if his heart suddenly stopped beating, he would have no way of knowing.
“Come on, Seonghwa,” San urges, his smile teasing, but Seonghwa can see in his eyes just how serious he is. “Don’t you want to join us?”
Really, isn’t this what he’s been working up to for the past two years? An opening to say it? A chance to rid himself of this secret that has been eating away at him every moment he spends around the two people he cares about most?
Give them a chance to love you back. That’s what Hongjoong said, isn’t it? If Seonghwa doesn’t give them that chance now, he doesn’t think he ever will.
“I…” Seonghwa begins again, swallowing around his heart now that it has propelled itself up into his throat. No turning back now. “Yes. Of course I do.”
Seonghwa doesn’t get a chance to see San’s face before he drops down against him, face hidden in the hoodie that Seonghwa borrowed from him once again.
Is this… a hug? San’s limbs don’t seem very coordinated at the moment, so he can’t be sure. Is this San attacking him in anger? Seonghwa knows his proficiency in taekwondo, and it doesn’t feel like San broke any of his bones yet, so that can’t be it either.
The silence has lasted far too long for Seonghwa to be comfortable with after a confession like that.
“Please,” he tries, hating the way his voice wobbles, unsure of what he’s even pleading for. Sympathy? A soft rejection? He doesn’t have time to elaborate before San’s shooting back upright, working a fist into the front of Seonghwa’s hoodie.
He looks overwhelmed. His eyes are glistening. Seonghwa feels his stomach drop with the weight of an anvil.
“Oh my god,” San breathes, hand shaking where it’s clenched against his sternum. “Oh my god, Seonghwa.”
“What?” Seonghwa feels close to a breakdown right now. “San, what?”
San sags into his chest once again, face hot against Seonghwa’s neck where he’s chilled to the bone in fear. He’s about ready to shove San off of him and demand he use his words when San whispers something into his skin. The words are unmistakable, even if Seonghwa has to strain to make them out.
“I’m so glad.”
All of Seonghwa’s fear and anxiety leaves him in one great big rush. He feels breathless afterwards, head spinning with the rollercoaster of emotions that he’s been strapped to for the past five minutes.
He coaxes San upright once more, searching his glassy eyes as if they could spell out everything he's feeling.
“Why?” Seonghwa asks, choked and quiet. “Why is that a good thing?”
San stares down at him, every inch of him beaming with fierce relief despite the heat rimming the corners of his eyes. “Because, Seonghwa, the two of us have been in love with you since the day we met you.”
Every forbidden thought he harbored in the back of his mind for the past two years, every aching feeling he had to stomp on just to keep seeing their faces like he was fine the way things were, everything that ate him up inside, it all spits him back out in bits and pieces. He’s worn and raw and clinging to whatever’s left.
That doesn’t matter now. This is why he waited. This is why he picked himself up off the ground time and time again. They love him. It was worth it.
“The day Wooyoung and I got together,” San explains, sounding like he’s struggling to keep his voice from cracking, “he told me that he couldn’t do it. He said he couldn’t be in a relationship with me because he was in love with you, too. You know what I told him? I told him that’s okay, because this way we can wait for you together.”
Seonghwa’s eyes prickle. He can hardly believe it after relegating the idea of being loved in return to unattainable daydreams for so long. It hurts like suddenly using a muscle lost to disuse. He forgot what it felt like to be loved back. Maybe he never knew what it felt like to begin with.
Thinking back to his years spent with San and Wooyoung, though, he’s inclined to disagree now that he has a little perspective. Their bright eyes trained on him, their gentle touches for the sake of comfort or familiarity, their unwavering inclusion because they never wanted to treat him differently in the first place, it was only that they thought they had to. That was love, Seonghwa thinks. It wasn’t a kiss goodnight after a dinner date gone well or stumbling into the shower and mapping out every mole and birthmark and scar, but it was still love. They gave that to Seonghwa in every way they were allowed. Seonghwa was foolish to think the amount of their love would increase with a confession.
San’s eyes, impossibly deep, familiar, and inviting, bring him back to the present.
“In whatever way you’ll have us, Seonghwa,” San says on an exhale, pinning Seonghwa to the couch with enough affection hiding behind his irises to last him a lifetime, “we want to love you. Both of us.”
“Every way,” Seonghwa finds himself saying, palms drawing up to rest on San’s broad shoulders. “I love you two in every way, so you’d better love me the same.”
San beams down at him and all he can see then is dimples and smile lines and the sun after the last of July’s monsoons.
“I think we can do that.”
“I’m not settling for anything less, you know,” Seonghwa says, only half joking. He had to settle for a long time, and now that he knows what it can feel like, he doesn’t ever want to go back to before.
San stares at him seriously for a moment. It’s the same look he gets when they’re all fooling around with the dartboard hung up at Yeosang’s and San's competitive ass is taking it more seriously than the rest of them. It lights a fire of anticipation in Seonghwa’s stomach the same way it does then.
“Can I kiss you?” San asks, eyes dark and already centered on Seonghwa’s lips. Seonghwa can’t say he’s doing any better.
He breathes out something that hopefully sounds like the yes it is before leaning up to close the distance himself.
Seonghwa has never kissed someone he’s been in love with, nor has he been kissed by someone he was certain was in love with him. Some describe it as electric, like fireworks going off in the stillest of nights. Kissing San, however, is like slipping into a warm bath after a grueling day of work and feeling each muscle unlock and return to its rightful place in the body. It’s like curling up next to a wood fire with a book on a rainy day and feeling the embers light him up from the inside out, burning slowly until suddenly the warmth has consumed him and he can’t remember a time when every one of his nerves wasn’t crackling with energy.
It’s like waiting two years for someone to love you back, only to find out they loved you the whole time. It’s like knowing you have two people to share this big empty world with. It’s like knowing you have two pairs of arms to fall into when everything else in life wants to see you fall to your knees instead.
It’s like kissing the person you love for the first time and waiting for the second person to come home so you can have your first kiss all over again. It feels like love.
Seonghwa and San settle down eventually, tangled in an embrace and focusing on each other’s warmth more than the Animal Planet special on meerkats.
“Wooyoung’s gonna be pissed I got to kiss you first,” San muses, huffing a laugh to himself.
Seonghwa turns to look at him, alarmed. “Should we have waited? I didn’t even think about that.”
San trails a soothing hand down the back of his neck. “Nah, you know him. He’ll pout and whine if he thinks he can get something out of it, but he isn’t actually hurt. He’ll let you know when he’s feeling hurt, you know that.”
Seonghwa nods, because he does know, and situates himself back to where he was.
“Hey.” San nudges gently at his chin to get him to meet his eyes again. “Wooyoung and I love you equally. We all love each other and we’ll all make time for each other. There’s no room for jealousy here, so we’ll communicate our needs if you communicate yours as well, alright?”
“Of course,” Seonghwa promises, smiling fondly before he could even think to stop himself. He doesn’t have to anymore. They can know how much Seonghwa loves them, if they couldn't see it before. “When did you get so wise and mature?”
San tugs at his ear in indignation. “I’ve always been wise and mature! We’re not that far apart in age, you know!”
They hear Wooyoung trudging down the hallway a few moments before he fits the key into the lock and steps inside the apartment to see them piled together on the couch as a single entity.
Seonghwa, because his body has one setting around Wooyoung and that is flustered, blushes when the memory of everything he and San discussed earlier comes flooding back to the forefront of his mind. Wooyoung zeroes in on it, as well as whatever face San is currently making, and understands instantly.
“Are you—?” He flings his keys at the nearest counter and attempts to break the world record for how fast someone can toe out of their dress shoes. “Did he—? Did you tell him—?”
“Sure did,” San says, with no small amount of smugness.
The next noise to come out of Wooyoung’s mouth is one Seonghwa is sure he’ll never be able to find the right words to describe, but he thinks it means he’s happy. Wooyoung tears across the apartment and all but flings himself onto Seonghwa’s lap and winds his arms around his neck.
“Can I kiss you?” Wooyoung asks, eyes trained on Seonghwa’s mouth just as San’s had an hour earlier. “Please say yes.”
Seonghwa can feel each excited puff of Wooyoung’s breath against his lips as he speaks. This is the other context he was hoping for while doing Wooyoung’s makeup not two hours earlier. Wooyoung, chest pressed to Seonghwa’s and situated on his lap like he was born to be there, only this time he’s going to kiss him and it won’t just be a pipe dream.
“Any time you want,” Seonghwa says, already breathless. Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate a moment longer.
Later, Wooyoung will lean away from Seonghwa, lacing their fingers together in the same breath, to capture San’s lips with his own. He’ll whisper, “I’m so glad,” in the space between them, and Seonghwa will think, Yeah, I’m glad, too.
“Seonghwa, your boyfriends are here!” Yunho calls from the register. This is nothing new.
“Thanks for letting me know,” Seonghwa says as he exits the back room of the café. That, for one, is new.
“Baby!” Wooyoung calls, bright and melodic and attention-grabbing as usual. One of his arms is looped between one of San’s. Neither one’s grin is wider than the other, but Seonghwa isn’t sure either one could get wider even if they tried. His smile grows to match theirs as he walks up to meet them.
He presses a quick kiss to Wooyoung’s lips in greeting before turning to do the same to San. He thinks hears Yunho drop something from somewhere behind him, but he’s too busy leaning back to drink in the sight of his boyfriends standing there, together, here to see him, to notice.
“Are we still on for tonight?” he asks, contented warmth spreading through his limbs before they even answer because he already knows what they’ll say. He asks because he likes the confirmation, and it means the two of them stick around in the café just a little longer.
“You know it!” Wooyoung says, hand moving to grip San’s in his excitement. “I know San’s the competitive one here, but he’s got nothing on me in a bowling alley. You two better prepare yourselves.”
San rolls his eyes good-naturedly, sharing a smirk with Seonghwa. “You talk a lot of smack for someone who’s gonna get his ass handed to him.”
“Not happening! Anyways, Seonghwa, we’ll pick you up at eight. Don’t miss us too much!”
Seonghwa tilts his head, overcome with fondness for his two best friends. Boyfriends, too. He gets to have both, now.
“It’s a little late for that,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t be late and I won't have to miss you any more than I already do.”
“You can’t go a minute without being sappy, can you?” San laments, even as he leans in to kiss Seonghwa goodbye.
“You love when I’m sappy.”
San’s dimple makes an appearance. “Maybe I do.”
Yunho looms up behind Seonghwa, which Wooyoung takes as their cue to vacate the café with a, “Bye, love you, see you soon!” as he drags San out the door.
“I told you, you know,” Yunho says, arms crossed in a way that feels fatherly even though he’s younger than Seonghwa and has the personality of a gangly, newborn puppy. Seonghwa appreciates it regardless.
Seonghwa watches San cling to Wooyoung with enough force to nearly send them toppling over as they walk out of view of the café windows. His boyfriends. Both of them. God, he’s never getting over that. He turns to Yunho with a smile.
“I’m glad you were right.”