Work Text:
I THINK WE GOT THIS
“Wanna bet?” Haknyeon sounds far away, but Sunwoo knows that’s not right.
Sunwoo still likes to have fun and Haknyeon’s bets are fun. It’s hard to say anything so he just nods, chin digging Haknyeon’s shoulder.
“I bet...your mom will scold whoever did this to you.” He sounds out of breath definitely, wobbly, and Sunwoo knows a thing or two about it because he’s having a hard time catching breaths himself. Hiccups and a stuffed, profusely-swiped nose that is forming a damp pool on the back of Haknyeon’s shirt. “Me too, I’ll give them a good hit.”
Their houses feel far for some reason, like it’s been an hour, not minutes. The playground feels far behind. Sunwoo tries not to focus on his scraped knees, doesn’t want to embarrass himself further by not letting his wet lashes dry. He’s ten now, not five.
He’s sorry he fell, sorry that he’s ruined Haknyeon’s playtime. He laughs a little, painting a picture in his head of what Haknyeon said.
Haknyeon’s uneven footsteps keep going as he turns to smile at Sunwoo, bright. “Stupid monkey bars.”
—
RAN FOR THE TRENCHES
Summer break, cram school, mock exams, a few months until it’s hello, high school!
Girls and school festivals, and dates at the mall, and girls, and bro, Jiwon is so pretty, bro, and girls, and first kisses, and girls—“It’s all they can talk about!” he exclaims. Which is, slightly untrue, but Sunwoo sees the need to exaggerate to get his point across.
Haknyeon elbows him. “Naturally. Is a certain someone feeling a little left out?”
Sunwoo doesn’t dignify that with a response. He huffs. It’s not that he’s jealous his friends are one by one getting their firsthand experiences at romancing and all that, it’s just—it’s all they can talk about.
“Wanna bet? I promise you, it’ll be all that you can talk about once you have your turn.”
He takes offense to that, meaninglessly snorts. “As if you’ve gone through it.”
There’s fifteen minutes until extracurricular and supplementary class. Haknyeon is all amusement in his brows beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder on deserted stairs instead. They’ve settled into an unspoken agreement of sorts, even after Haknyeon had moved up a grade.
“Oh, really?” Haknyeon says, grinning. “And how are you so sure about that?”
Impossible. No, Haknyeon would’ve told him. “You haven’t.” The thought makes him uncomfortably queasy. No. Again, taken aback, “You haven’t.”
Haknyeon tousles Sunwoo’s hair instantly, movement wild yet gentle on Sunwoo’s scalp. “I haven’t. You’ll tell me when you have.” Not a question, not a request. Just a statement.
Sunwoo nods then. It takes a month, a heartfelt confession during cleanup after school and some bro, I can’t believe Jiwon likes you’s. He gets his first kiss and they even hug, and everything is fine. Haknyeon knows these from secondhand whispers, Sunwoo thinks, when they go home together for the first time in weeks. Sunwoo enjoys this. Enjoys how easy it is with him.
—
FIRST FRIDAY IN JUNE
It’s a phase, Sunwoo will grow out of it for sure. The most mulish kid in the neighborhood, tucked at the back of changing seasons and awkward pairs of limbs.
“You’re such an idiot,” Sunwoo says, not mean, never mean. Worried. Pissed. He’s grown into his frame now, in the foreground of passing eyes in hallways and heart-shaped cards in his locker. He’s gotten used to it, yearns for peace and quiet.
“Speak for yourself, you’re an even bigger idiot,” Haknyeon mutters.
It’s a phase, Haknyeon will grow out of it, I know it. Loud eyes, loud laugh and features that fit perfectly into the shape of his face since forever. At least, Sunwoo usually thinks so. Right now, he rolls his eyes and firmly presses a cold pack to Haknyeon’s cheek. Too firm maybe because Haknyeon hisses. Whatever, he deserves it.
Standing up for someone is one thing, a brewing confrontation is another. Landing the first punches on top of being the student body president is nefarious. It’s pissing Sunwoo off even more just thinking about it again. “I can’t believe - This will get you kicked out of the council and into your permanent record, I’m serious.”
“Hm. Huh. When you say it like that, it does sound like a challenge.”
“If you dare to even think about saying it, I’ll walk out this instance.”
Haknyeon narrows his eyes, lights dancing in them despite being battered and bruised. “Wanna bet?”
Sunwoo groans. Flimsy words are flimsy. “We’ve been over this, just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”
“I’m sorry, but you do what you gotta do when a dick is being a dick and refused to talk,” Haknyeon says lightly and genuinely. “It’s not your fault his supposed-girlfriend is into you. Well.” He shrugs. “Hardly your fault.”
Sunwoo wonders and wanders over the paths of some arguments they’ve had, and mulls over this just a bit more often. His annoyance subsides as fast as it rose.
We’ve been over this, you can’t let yourself be anyone’s punching bag.
The infirmary smells clean, sterile. Unlike a home. It’s too artificial, but it beats the forming crowd in front of his classroom. It’s quiet, too. Drawn sheer curtains and the 4PM sun behind them.
The pads of Haknyeon’s fingers are calloused with something other than the pluck of Sunwoo’s guitar strings, knuckles unflinching under the glide of Sunwoo’s hand. Sunwoo bends down, steals a kiss, in hopes of balancing the tightrope they’re on.
Haknyeon keeps him there, hanging on for seconds. “Now that...that will get me kicked out of the council.”
Sunwoo lets himself smile. He’s still getting used to it.
—
NO MORE DEFENSES
Sunwoo wants to put it out there, what’s on his mind. Make a blanket statement that they could lie on, like: Distance sucks; I miss you, and your arms and your warmth, and how you let me be the small spoon, and I want you to miss me too. Addled, rambling musings. He stops idling between tabs and stifles a laugh as soon as the video call connects.
In the back, Haknyeon’s roommates saunter around as they greet Sunwoo in some form of cheeky recognition. “What the hell am I looking at?”
The lump on the table raises its head, grumbles, “Nothing good.”
Sunwoo says something else—of course he does. Something easy and comforting that can climb through Haknyeon’s wired earphones and ease those dull eyes back to life.
“Wanna bet? I’ll make it worthwhile, I promise,” Haknyeon says after some time. Sunwoo doesn’t need to say anything so he doesn’t and for the first time tonight, the worn lumpy lines beneath Haknyeon’s eyes dissipate. Trick of dodgy Wi-Fi possibly, unflattering lighting maybe.“If you...If we get, like, 60% of our respective stuffs done by tomorrow...I’ll clear my weekend and visit you.”
“Visit?” Haknyeon hums on the other side. “Dropping in to say hi, bye in five minutes?”
“I was thinking more of hi, I miss you too, Aunty, Uncle; thank you for letting me stay and rot in your son’s bed until he gets sick of me. Something like that.”
If Sunwoo catches himself looking too fond on the upper corner then so be it, this is the hill that makes him giddy like a massive idiot. “60% though - I mean, I’m up for it. How’s your progress looking?”
Silence. “If I get 40% done, I’ll visit you.”
“Uh-huh.” Haknyeon tends to procrastinate. Spare pillows’ whereabouts that Sunwoo will have to ask his mom. His smile’s getting impossible to keep at bay. “What if you failed?”
Haknyeon immediately says, “Doesn’t matter. Open the door when I come knocking, will you?” He’s laughing a bit over the last word because Sunwoo laughs and Sunwoo’s shaking his head at how exasperation and desperation fill Haknyeon’s little bubble with colors.
“You miss me,” he says, smug, relentless. “You miss me and my arms and my warmth, and the way I usually let you be the big spoon.”
“Okay? Am I supposed to play it all cool and hard to get like I’m not aching to hug you right now? Hm, Kim Sunwoo?”
That does it. The filtered choked-up laughter from Haknyeon’s roommates juxtaposing Haknyeon’s very own earnest voice and face. Sunwoo’s cheeks ache so bad that it feels permanent. Happy, pleased, in the midst of a hectic sixth semester.
—
MY FUTURE RESTED ON YOU
Observation: thuds, thumps, and the ride jolts with arrival; some coming in, shuffling feet stepping out; it’s been years since Sunwoo last gave a shit, and people are more into surviving late hours to give two shits about two men holding hands and tucking themselves in the back-row seats. Fatigue lolls Sunwoo’s head on Haknyeon’s shoulder.
Their hands used to be the same size long ago, Sunwoo thinks. He observes.
When he muses it out loud, just for them, his temple gets tapped. “You’re definitely running out of things to talk about.”
Sunwoo ignores him and watches. Haknyeon draws abstract patterns, swirls, long lines across the back of Sunwoo’s hand, the action second nature and absent-minded. “Your fingers are stubbier compared to mine, you don’t let your nails grow,” he loosely slots his fingers between Haknyeon’s gaps, sighing, “those olden days scarred your knuckles and probably traumatized your bones into not growing anymore.”
Haknyeon breathes out a laugh that ghosts over Sunwoo’s forehead. “Hilarious.” It is, Sunwoo heard him. “Do you know what they say about slender fingers like yours?”
A little curious now. “What?”
“You can prettify them by putting a ring on it. Preferably one with gemstones.”
Sunwoo snorts, a smile slips in. It’s autopilot far, far at this point. “Those things are a scam, you don’t know?”
“Ah, well, you’re the smartass between the two of us; I was generalizing, you don’t know?” Sunwoo peers up through his lashes and—Haknyeon’s already looking at him. They move, they fight, in sync and in shambles when they know each other too well. Some things stay the same. “Screw it, we don’t need gemstones to make our forever lasts forever, do we? Tungsten is the buzz nowadays.”
It’s rhetorical, who knows, but Sunwoo pulls their joint hands to his lap and focuses on them. Something to ground him. “Do they come in black?”
Haknyeon takes his time. “I’ve to rethink that, maybe check one of - check our drawers when we finally get home, you know. Just to make sure they do.”
“Oh.” Oh. The air gets lost somehow. His eyes prickle, he buries his nose deep. Anything, just anything to stop feeling too much altogether. Haknyeon’s poorly-shaved chin rubs familiar stubbles on Sunwoo’s temple. It’s perfect. “Really?” It comes out wobbly.
“Oh yeah.” Haknyeon presses a kiss on the top of Sunwoo’s head, gently digs his scarred knuckles there with his spare hand. Sunwoo loves it. Loves him. “Wanna bet?”