Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seungkwan and Joshua’s coffee cups have been empty for the past fifteen minutes. Seungkwan takes another sip and is rewarded with a pathetic amount of vaguely coffee flavored ice water. Seeing it, Joshua snatches Seungkwan’s cup from his hand and walks over to the nearest trash, neatly depositing both in the recycling bin. The chain of his leather crossbody bag jingles as he makes his way back to Seungkwan, and he wrinkles his nose at the condensation lingering on his hands. He wipes them on his jeans with a little disdain. 

“Upstairs?” he suggests with a tilt of the head. 

Seungkwan agrees by way of a nod and taking the lead to the escalator. They travel up to the designer menswear floor and start to amble from display to display. Seungkwan and Joshua have developed this routine over the years. Approximately once every three months, they go to one of Seoul’s lavish department stores together to browse the new season’s collections. Right now, most of the brands have just started displaying their summer lines. It’s rare that either of them actually buy anything. In fact, they usually don’t even try anything on. If something really winds up sticking out to them, they go back to the store alone to buy it. 

More than once Seungkwan has received a sheepish message from Joshua reading, “I caved,” with a photo of a sweater or pair of boots he’d been eyeing the week before. 

So this is their habit. Shopping without really shopping, touching soft fabrics and grimacing at ugly patterns while they catch up about whatever’s new in their lives. Joshua has always had an eye for fashion. He follows designers much more closely than Seungkwan does, so Seungkwan finds it fun to listen to him talk about trends and scowl in disgust at the percentage of polyester and plastic in what are meant to be high-end clothes. 

From the moment Seungkwan met Joshua, Seungkwan has found it easy to be his friend. There was a patience within him that Seungkwan had seen so rarely in other people. At first, Seungkwan wondered what eased him into such a gentle and steady person. He soon realized that at his core, Joshua is someone who watches and listens. He takes in the worries of others a thousandfold before he even thinks of sharing about himself. He’s quick to figure out what other people need and even quicker to dole it out when that time of need comes. 

Such is to say that he doesn’t come with Seungkwan to the department store just to look at the clothes. 

Joshua gives love the way he wishes to receive it: tenderly, with both eyes fixed on him, and with hopes that to lend an ear means one day it might be lent back. To gain Joshua’s trust also means to gain his humor and his judgment, his truth and his history. And to gain his history means to understand that Joshua always listened even when people didn’t listen to him. Through his differences, he was weathered, and in being different he has come away both softer in some places and harder in others. 

If to be loved is to be changed, Joshua has loved fiercely, and he has bloomed a thousand times anew. 

And whenever Seungkwan is burdened, Joshua can tell just by the slope of his shoulders how heavy is the weight that presses them down. 

Seungkwan wouldn’t exactly say that he’s burdened right now, but Joshua is still sharp, and like a cat, if there’s something he can bat around for fun, he’s not afraid to take a swipe at it. 

“So,” Joshua starts, touching leather between two fingers. “You and Hansollie are friends now.”

Seungkwan should’ve seen this coming. Joshua and Hansol have been friends basically since Joshua moved to Korea, and there is absolutely no way he wasn’t paying close attention to the dynamic at dinner with Hansol’s mom the other night. Between his weird mood and being unable to follow the English conversation, Seungkwan hadn’t been able to pick up on any of Joshua’s usual mischief, but that’s his own mistake. Joshua was probably sitting there pretending life was a movie and the banchan were his metaphorical popcorn. 

Seungkwan can only guess what Joshua would’ve suspected if he and Hansol had been sitting next to each other. 

He sniffs, pushing hangers apart without really looking at what’s on them. 

“Oh yes. He called me, and we made it official and everything.” He draws an arc in the air with both hands like a rainbow. “Friends.”

Joshua laughs at his antics and squeezes Seungkwan’s shoulder excitedly. “I didn’t realize you guys were hanging out more! I was surprised when he told me you’d be at the dinner.”

“That makes two of us. Honestly, we mostly started hanging out more through a series of somewhat unfortunate events. Well, at least they were unfortunate for me. Did you know he was the one who ended up bringing me my folder that day?”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he cocks his head in confusion. “What?” 

“You know. When I forgot my folder and texted a group chat with a bunch of people by accident? My panicked request for someone to go to my apartment and bring it to the school? No? Oh, forget it. You never check your texts.” 

Joshua’s smile is somehow both truly apologetic and absolutely vacant. “Yeah, I totally did not know about this. Sorry, Seungkwannie.”

Seungkwan makes a face at him that Joshua immediately laughs off. 

“Long story short, I gave Chwe Hansol my apartment codes so he could go get an important folder for me, and then he hand delivered it to me at my school. With a snack. That I did not request.”

“But you texted him by accident?” 

“Yes! I messaged the wrong group chat. Honestly, I totally forgot he was even in the one I wound up messaging, but he offered to help me anyway. And he brought me tangerines. Ugh.” 

Seungkwan doesn’t see much of a need to tell Joshua about his vague crush on Hansol, but he doesn’t see much of a need to hide it, either. Joshua has had a knowing look in his eye from the second he brought Hansol up, so Seungkwan could probably put good money on the fact that Joshua has sniffed out something related to Seungkwan’s weird and complicated feelings. 

Joshua, however, is a man of tact, and he doesn’t jump straight to conclusions. 

They’ve been lingering by the Marni collection for quite a while now. Joshua even gets audacious and unfolds a shirt rather than just looking at it intensely. 

“I always thought you two would get along.”

Joshua says his words chipperly, but there’s something knowing about them too. 

“Really?” asks Seungkwan. “But we’re so different.” 

He forgets to be defensive and immediately grows curious instead. Joshua is Hansol’s good friend; maybe his thoughts could help Seungkwan work out the way he feels. He can’t deny the part of him that wonders if he should really give up all hope of Hansol becoming more than a friend. He’s happy that they’ve made it this far, but he keeps thinking about what Hansol might look like before he kisses someone. Is that a sight Seungkwan has seen before, or did Hansol’s hands on his waist make him start imagining things?

Joshua shrugs. “Yeah, that’s true, but I never thought that would be a problem. You’re both really unique, and to be honest, I think you’re alike in the ways that matter. You love so deeply. You care so much about your friends. And you know what it’s like to be hurt by someone you were close to.” 

Seungkwan stops in his tracks. He opens his mouth as he tries to think of something to say, but in the end he closes it, laughs awkwardly, and realizes he’s blushing. 

“God,” he exhales, fiddling with his hair. “I thought you were gonna say something like we both really love music.”

Joshua grins brightly. “Well, that too, of course!” 

Seungkwan knows that Joshua and Hansol are really close, but talking to Joshua now, he realizes that he doesn’t quite know what kind of friendship they actually have. Do they share everything with each other? Does Hansol ever talk about Seungkwan? Nothing like that has ever stopped Seungkwan from opening up to Joshua before, so he tries not to think about it too much. 

Seungkwan takes one look at the shirt Joshua is holding up and immediately directs him back to the shelf he plucked it from. 

“I think I hurt his feelings, actually,” Seungkwan confesses as Joshua folds. “He didn’t say I did, but…”

Joshua’s brow knits. “Really? How so?”

As he’s about to admit it, Seungkwan realizes how absolutely ridiculous he’s been about Hansol since Mingyu’s birthday party. He fiddles with one of the pins fastened to his bag and mumbles, “I kind of told him that I thought we weren’t friends when he invited me to dinner with his mom, even though we’ve been hanging out pretty regularly.”

Joshua’s eyes grow so wide they take up his entire face. He smacks Seungkwan lightly on the bicep. 

“Seungkwan-ah! Why would you do that? Or, why would you think that, since I’m assuming you didn’t just say that to be mean.”

“I didn’t! I just– Shua hyung, you’re going to have to cut me some slack here, okay. I’ve done some reflection, and I know I’ve been kind of unhinged.” 

“As long as you’re self-aware,” says Joshua, sickly sweet, eyes curved with the blinding white of his smile. 

He’s only teasing Seungkwan, but Seungkwan still sticks his tongue out at him. 

“I wasn’t being mean,” Seungkwan starts. Then he lowers his voice, curling one hand around Joshua’s forearm to hold him close. “Look. To tell you the truth, at one point, I thought he really wanted to sleep with me. It was at Mingyu’s birthday party. We were alone together, and he wasn’t making a move, so I did, but then–” He groans and concludes in a punctuated whisper, “He rejected me.” 

Joshua makes a pitiful face. 

“In the moment, did it sting? Yes. And did it continue to sting after that? Well, also yes. But I got over it! Honestly, hyung, in my defense, before Mingyu’s party I genuinely didn’t consider us friends. I mean, he was around, and we got along well enough, but we were never really hung out. Weirdly enough, it was after he let me know that he didn’t want to sleep together that we started spending more time together. Forgive me for being a little hesitant to consider that friendship!” 

Joshua nods along patiently, but he gives Seungkwan a pointed look. “That can’t possibly be all there is to it.”

“Gosh, hyung, can’t you be less perceptive for once? Self-preservation isn’t going very well for me right now.” 

Joshua snorts and rubs soothingly up and down Seungkwan’s arm. “I can’t deny that I’m curious, Seungkwannie, but it also seems like you want to talk about this.” 

Joshua may have a point. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Seungkwan says with pursed lips. “Honestly? I think I do want to talk about it. And yes, that’s not all of it.” He sighs and briefly drops his forehead to rest against Joshua’s shoulder. Joshua lifts a hand to card once through the hair at the nape of Seungkwan’s neck. “At first, I really was just confused. I mean, I seriously thought he wanted to fuck me! But I think getting hung up on that is what made things worse. Like, was this the same guy? The one who looked at me who liked he wanted to eat me was also the one who pushed me away? I couldn’t really hold those two ideas in my head, and then–– He just didn’t acknowledge it, hyung! He just kept being nice to me! He literally invited me to go eat with him that same night! 

“I guess I couldn’t believe that he just wanted to be my friend. I’m not… I don’t think I’m always this insecure in my relationships, but there was something about him that made every alarm go off. I kept telling myself, ‘Hey! He doesn’t like you! He doesn’t want to be your friend!’ That’s where I screwed up, I think. Like, I could clearly see that that wasn’t true. He was deliberately trying to spend time with me, but I resisted it, which is why I think I might’ve hurt his feelings. I’m not fully sure why I was acting like that. The rejection is part of it, obviously, but also… I think he’s someone I could really like, and to tell you the truth, I’m not sure how I’d fare if he didn’t reciprocate that.”  

Joshua leads them to another part of the store. He keeps their arms linked and speaks to him in a soft voice. “Do you mean romantically, Seungkwan-ah?” 

“Maybe a little,” Seungkwan admits, which he’s sure Joshua understands as a plain and simple yes. Seungkwan starts to tug his lips between his teeth but stops at once. They’ve been chapped lately as it is. “I think that’s also what makes this hard. Everything with him always feels so intense. To be honest, it doesn’t really feel like he treats me like a friend half the time! I try to convince myself otherwise, but that guy is definitely flirting with me. But then I start asking myself: why would he flirt with me if he made it clear he didn’t want to be with me like that? It’s confusing! And as you can see, I get totally in my head about it.” 

Joshua hums soothingly. “It’s okay, Seungkwan-ah. I understand what you mean. The first thing I’ll say to you is that feelings change. Just because he didn’t feel a certain way about you a few months ago doesn’t mean he can’t feel that way now. Actually, change isn’t the right word. Maybe feelings evolve is the better way to say it?” 

Seungkwan pouts. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“I think you should trust how you feel. If it feels like Hansol likes you or that he’s flirting with you, then why try to convince yourself otherwise? Don’t gaslight yourself. I really doubt it’s all in your head. And Hansol tends to be a pretty… straightforward guy.” 

“You’re telling me,” Seungkwan groans. “You try having someone say, ‘That’s okay,’ when you try to sleep with them. He might as well have said, ‘No thanks.’”

Joshua winces. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and offers Seungkwan a sympathetic look. “Anyway, I think focusing on where your relationship is now will probably help you understand it a little better. Both his feelings and yours. You said he didn’t mention that you hurt his feelings. Maybe he’s just happy to know that you’re friends now. Did you apologize?” 

Seungkwan shakes his head. “I probably should. Honestly, hyung, I’ve accepted that I have this little crush on him, but I really never expect anything from it. To tell you the truth, I thought he was gonna kiss me the other night. We walked home from dinner together.” 

“Seungkwan-ah!” Joshua exclaims, though still at an appropriate volume for a public setting. He shoves Seungkwan’s arm playfully. “There’s your problem! Maybe you just need to start expecting something. If you’re sending signals that you don’t trust him and that you’re uncertain about your relationship, you’re probably getting yourself nowhere fast. Try putting yourself in his shoes. Even if you didn’t end up hurting his feelings, he probably was still a little surprised to hear that you didn’t consider him a friend. Relax a little, hm? Be the friend that you always are. Trust where you are. Trust that he’s someone who wants to spend time with you.” 

Seungkwan looks closely at Joshua’s expression. As usual, he gives nothing away. 

“Do you know something I don’t?” asks Seungkwan. Just in case. 

Joshua rolls his eyes coyly. “Of course not,” he replies, and his voice is as smooth as ever. Casual, even. He’s eyeing a button down that he’d look devine in. 

Seungkwan can’t help but pout a little, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hyung,” he whines, puffing his cheeks. 

“I’m serious!” Joshua argues. “I really don’t know anything. I just listen closely and give great advice.” 

Even though Joshua’s smile looks just a little bit wicked, to that, Seungkwan simply has no grounds for denial.

Seungkwan is at Chwe Hansol’s apartment again. Though this time, they’ll be alone, and Seungkwan is standing in the doorway holding a tote bag full of his favorite movie snacks. 

Perhaps it would be beneficial to explain how he got here. 

Once their afternoon at the department store came to a close, Joshua and Seungkwan waited at the bus stop together. Joshua made one not-so-subtle comment about the state of Seungkwan’s split ends, and that finally sent Seungkwan over the edge. As soon as he got home, Seungkwan made a hair appointment at his usual salon and prepared to bid his most recent bleach blonde phase adieu. It had been a great era, truthfully. There are some pictures taken by Mingyu that will be immortalized on his Instagram forever simply because of how good he looks. 

Honestly, Seungkwan had kind of wanted to keep the blonde for the summer, but not only did Joshua have a point with his comment, Seungkwan’s roots were starting to get a bit severe, and he was getting a little tired of spending so much money on hair masks to stop his scalp from dying a slow death. 

Ordinarily, Seungkwan is a model client at the hair salon. He’s not normally a fidgety person, and even when he has to spend several hours in a chair to tone his hair, he has no problem just chatting to his stylist, checking his emails, and scrolling through Instagram Reels to pass the time. He’d been preparing to do exactly that this time around too, but plans changed when he received a text from Hansol the moment he sat down. 

chwe hansol | 6:17PM

thoughts on finding nemo?

Over the past few weeks, Seungkwan and Hansol have been texting more often. Most of the time, they end up talking about random things at sporadic intervals rather than making real conversation––which, to Seungkwan, means they really are friends. Hansol is pretty good at replying (especially when the point of comparison is Joshua), and admittedly, at his cringiest and most dire, Seungkwan always remembers to reply when it’s Hansol who he’s texting back. 

So he has a crush. Sue him. Joshua had basically told Seungkwan to lean in, so Seungkwan is leaning in! If this is the thing that ends up coming to bite him in the ass in the future, then at least he has a hyung to blame. 

In Seungkwan’s defense, it’s only natural to reply a little faster to someone you like. That’s ancient math that dates back to the advent of the cell phone! Maybe even before. Seungkwan still remembers his older cousin anxiously checking her mailbox to see if she finally received a long-awaited letter from her boyfriend in Daegu. She always wrote him back the very same day. 

Seungkwan replied to the Nemo text saying, “it’s cute,” which apparently triggered the opening of a rather formidable can of worms called Chwe Hansol’s Vehement Opinions on the Disney Pixar Cinematic Universe. 

Needless to say, Seungkwan did not check any emails or watch any Reels while at the hair salon. Instead, he wound up with his head craned over his phone, texting Hansol about Pixar movies for the entirety of his appointment. His hairdresser actually had to tell him to lift his head up once or twice, which was a personal low for Seungkwan. How embarrassing! Tarnishing his reputation as a good client for the sake of texting a boy. 

Seungkwan likes Pixar movies. If he had to take a guess, he would say that he’s seen most of them at least once. Before his conversation with Hansol, he might have even considered himself a Pixar fan. Growing up, he used to watch the first two Toy Story movies on VCR with his sisters sitting on their living room floor. He remembers getting excited when Monsters Inc. came out because he shared a name with one of the characters. He even went to the theater with Jeonghan and Soonyoung to go see the premiere of Incredibles 2. 

After his conversation with Hansol, however, Seungkwan is quick to realize that there is a lot to learn about Pixar. He always thought that everyone liked Pixar movies. There wasn’t much else to it. 

Who knew that describing Finding Nemo as just “cute” could actually be an insult to what is apparently Disney Pixar’s best film of all time? 

Seungkwan certainly did not. 

But Hansol texts really cutely, and all throughout their conversation, he attached photos of his favorite stills from the films and used a lot of exclamation points when he got really serious about a particular part. Seungkwan was reminded of how fun it is to get to know someone new. There’s so much joy in learning about a person. Before the Nemo text, Seungkwan had no idea that Hansol enjoyed films so much. Now he knows why there were vintage film posters hanging in Hansol’s living room. Now he knows a little bit more about Hansol’s love and what kind of shapes it can take. 

For the entire two and a half hours Seungkwan was at the salon, he spent it texting Hansol. Hansol, who at first second-guessed himself and sent a message asking: am i boring you? do you want to talk about something else? and reminded Seungkwan of that moment in his apartment all those weeks ago, when Hansol had rubbed the back of his neck and said, “People tell me that I have a bad habit of talking too much when I get excited about something.” 

Seungkwan was far from bored, and he told Hansol that without question. Hansol took Seungkwan’s green light and ran with it, and with every text Seungkwan received, he made note of which films Hansol seemed to love the most and how he answered each question Seungkwan asked with so much care. (And Seungkwan did ask a lot of questions. His knowledge about animation cinematography and soundtrack production was severely lacking, but it was really, really nice to receive Hansol’s explanations, each delivered with more patience and detail than the last.) 

So how was it, exactly, that Seungkwan ended up at Hansol’s apartment? 

At some point, he happened to admit that he’d seen neither Luca nor Brave, and so Hansol demanded a Pixar movie marathon immediately. Well, he actually suggested it nicely as an idea for whenever they were both free and said they should watch a few movies together from time to time. Seungkwan agreed right away. Watching movies together would be so fun, and he was keen to hear Hansol explain all the little Easter eggs that he never would’ve caught onto himself. 

Seungkwan is only human though, so once movie day arrived, he started to freak out just a little. He began the day relaxed enough––he slept in and worked out and annoyed Jeonghan over breakfast. He and Hansol agreed to meet at 3:30, so by the time 2PM rolled around, Seungkwan found himself standing determinedly in front of his closet faced with an imminent dilemma: what was the appropriate thing to wear to a movie marathon at someone else’s apartment when you’re still tormented by the urge to look good for them? As expected, it took him quite a while to figure out the perfect cute-but-comfy outfit. He scrubbed himself in the shower and styled his freshly chestnut hair, and when he finally left his place, he made a detour right away. He refused to show up empty handed, so he stopped and purchased an exorbitant amount of snacks for just two people. 

So now here he stands in front of Hansol’s door, feeling a little jittery and not just from his coffee. 

He’s about to knock for a second time when the door finally swings open. Seungkwan swallows as soon as he’s met with the sight before him. With music spilling in from the living room, Seungkwan almost feels like he’s in a movie. Hansol is in loose grey sweats and a white tee, and his hair is still damp, curling around his ears. He gives Seungkwan a bright grin from the instant they meet eyes, and Seungkwan, appallingly, feels his heart pick up in his chest. 

With its rhythm in his ears, he steps forward into Hansol’s space as Hansol says, “Boo! You’re here.”

“Yeah, I almost got lost on that long walk,” Seungkwan says. He fiddles his tote to try to keep it from slipping off his shoulder as he takes off his shoes. 

Hansol snorts at his lame joke and reaches out to take Seungkwan’s bag. He makes a face when he feels the weight of it. “What’s in here?” 

Seungkwan grows sheepish. “Um, movie snacks?” 

“Hey, you know you don’t have to bring something every time you come to my house, right? It can just be a chill thing, when you come over. Especially since you’re gonna have to come over a lot to get through all 27 Pixar movies.” 

Seungkwan has learned enough about Hansol by now not to be surprised that he knows the exact number. Of course, he’s pleased to hear that Hansol plans on this being more than a one time thing, but for the sake of him keeping his cool, Seungkwan doesn’t dwell on it. As he dons a pair of Hansol’s extra house slippers, he tuts. “First of all, I can’t help that I’m a good guest. Second of all… I like to have snacks when I watch movies.”

Hansol smiles at him again and pokes Seungkwan on the cheek when he notices his pout. “Who says I didn’t prepare snacks? I bought, like, so much popcorn.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” Seungkwan jokes. 

He doesn’t miss the way Hansol has peered into his tote to assess the snack haul, though. 

“Hi, by the way,” Hansol murmurs, taking note of how they’re still standing in the entryway. 

“Hi,” Seungkwan replies. 

Something about the moment has brought his voice to a whisper, and things seem to play in slow motion as Hansol slowly sets Seungkwan’s bag on the floor. There’s a few more rapid beats of his heart, and then Seungkwan finds himself wrapped up in Hansol’s warm embrace again. He’s tickled by a few strands of wet hair as Hansol hugs him. He inhales, his face close to Hansol’s neck, taking in the clean, soft scent of him. His fingertips buzz where he’s wrapped his arms around Hansol’s shoulders, and he dares to drag them along the collar of Hansol’s shirt where it spans the nape of his neck. 

There’s an undeniable weight that has settled over them when they separate––like the beautiful heaviness of daybreak, or the silence after rainfall. Seungkwan feels himself exhale and hopes it’s not too loud, even though he swears he hears a little love sickness in his own sigh. Hansol stays standing there, his warm eyes looking at him with their usual intensity. Seungkwan allows it for a moment, the way he’d allow himself to stand in the sun on the first days of summer, before his spring skin has braced itself for such heat. 

He breaks after not very long, and tries his best to ease them back into something comfortable instead of something awkward. That’s mostly for himself, quieting the questions in the back of his head that have already begun to ask, What was that? 

“So what movie are we watching first?” Seungkwan asks, snatching up his bag. 

“Oh man, good question,” Hansol says. “I was thinking Luca because you haven’t seen it, but it could also be good to go with a classic. Or if you want to get really crazy, we can just commit and watch in chronological order.” 

Hansol reaches into his pocket to use his phone to pause the music, and Seungkwan follows him into his apartment where the TV is already on, displaying every Pixar movie to choose from. 

“Are you telling me that you haven’t curated a movie order for us? I thought this was an official event.” 

Hansol laughs. “Is that a request?” he asks. “I can do that. I can totally do that.” 

Because he’s himself, Seungkwan kneels on the carpet and starts laying out snacks. He gets a little caught up in arranging them but realizes his efforts are essentially useless. 

“I’m leaving the movies up to you,” Seungkwan says, “but could you show me where the bowls are?” 

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” 

He reaches a hand down to help Seungkwan up, and Seungkwan likes the warmth of Hansol’s palm when he grasps it. He’s got a sure grip, and Seungkwan holds on tight. 

Hansol leads them into the kitchen to point out some bowls, and he puts a bag of popcorn into the microwave, too. Even with the bowls set out for him to continue his snack arranging, Seungkwan chooses to wait with Hansol as the popcorn pops. A savory, buttery scent wafts through the room, bringing with it a strange sense of youth. He doesn’t know the last time he had popcorn, but he’s hit with a memory of knocking knuckles with his sisters while digging their small fists into a big bucket at the movie theater. 

He finds a comfortable place to lean against the counter as he waits, not far from the place where he and Hansol had huddled together and giggled over stories about music at Hansol’s party all those weeks ago. Seungkwan has a better chance to take in the details of the kitchen than he had the last time he was here, but he very quickly finds that there’s not much to the space. Based on the plain bowls and what seemed like a pretty empty cupboard, Seungkwan gets the feeling that Hansol is not the type to cook very often. 

Then again, Seungkwan doesn’t exactly have any room to judge. 

Seungkwan must zone out while he looks around, because when he blinks, Hansol is next to him, and he’s taken some drinks out of the fridge for them. He leans against the counter next to Seungkwan. Their elbows brush. The microwave spins and hums. Hansol looks at Seungkwan again. 

Seungkwan almost feels like he’s being studied, the way someone at a museum might study the art. 

Seungkwan has never been made to feel like art before. 

Hansol breaks their silence. Seungkwan barely noticed that they had stopped talking. Their quiet was almost natural. 

“Your hair looks really good,” Hansol says. “I didn’t say that before.”

His comment takes Seungkwan aback, and he reaches up to fiddle with some of the strands. They’re softer now after the treatment he had done. 

“Thanks,” Seungkwan murmurs. “Did you not like the blonde?” 

Hansol tilts his head, face pensive. “No, I did. I just like this better.”

Seungkwan squints. “So you hated it.” 

Hansol clicks his tongue. “Seungkwan-ah, you always look good. I just think this brown suits you really well. It’s pretty.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan says, feeling his face grow warm. He looks up through his bangs to avoid Hansol’s eyes. “Thank you. The upkeep was getting a bit much, to tell you the truth.”

“I can imagine. One time, I bleached my hair, and it basically all fell out. My sister has pictures of me that she could probably use as career-ending blackmail if she wanted to.” 

He suppresses a shudder, his face scrunching up in near disgust. 

Seungkwan laughs, taking a pass at his shoulder with a playful jab. 

“I doubt it was that bad. With that face? C’mon.”

Hansol doesn’t even blink. 

“Seungkwan-ah,” Hansol deadpans. His expression is deadly serious. 

Seungkwan hides his giggle behind a hand, and the microwave beeps. 

They find their way back to the living room, and ultimately, Hansol decides that watching the movies in chronological order won’t be the most rewarding way to embark on their Pixar film journey. Driven by the fact that Seungkwan has never seen it before, he chooses Luca as their first watch. 

Hansol gets chatty again during the movie selection process, and through his comments, Seungkwan gathers a few more things about Hansol’s impassioned opinions on Disney Pixar. 

One, Finding Nemo is still definitely the best. 

Two, that is apparently a controversial opinion to hold—but Hansol is steadfast in his belief. And he may or may not have gotten into several heated (though not friendship-ruining) arguments about this. 

Hansol also explains to Seungkwan a number of reasons why Ratatouille is a cinematic masterpiece. This includes firstly the brief lore surrounding the crowdsourced Ratatouille musical that took place on TikTok during the depths of global COVID-19 induced lockdowns. Apparently, Hansol’s sister made a point to send Hansol every single Ratatouille the Musical video she saw. Hansol also insisted on explaining the conspiracy theory that the house from the starting scene of the movie is actually that of Ego’s mom, meaning that Remy the rat actually grew up watching her cook. 

Fascinating stuff, truly. Perhaps more importantly, Hansol is really cute when he talks about it. He speaks a little faster when he gets excited, and even when he gets caught up in his train of thought, he continues to look at Seungkwan all the while. His eyes, bright and warm, never seem to waver. 

Once they actually start the movie, Hansol grows quiet. Very quiet, as a matter of fact. Even though he told Seungkwan that he’s seen Luca a few times already, he still watches intensely, as if it’s his first time. Despite his focus, he doesn’t seem to mind when Seungkwan interrupts to ask questions, like if Hansol has ever been to Italy, or what his favorite kind of pasta is. The only thing is––whenever Seungkwan asks something, Hansol has to pause the movie to answer. He can’t seem to bear talking over the film. 

So in the end, it takes them a little extra time to actually get through the whole movie because of how often they stop to chat. Unusual as it might be, to Seungkwan, it mostly feels nice to go about it like this. They strike a balance. In the most natural way, they end up accommodating each other without complaint, and from it, they both get exactly what they like most about watching movies. 

Despite all of the confusion and frustration that has surrounded Seungkwan’s relationship with Hansol over these past few months, as they sit side by side, he can’t say he feels surprised at how comfortable it is to spend time together like this. The whole afternoon feels like Seungkwan has been given a special part of Hansol; not the reserved, charming one who comes alive at parties, nor the serious, focused one who works on his music. 

Seungkwan has been introduced to someone else entirely. This Hansol is both intense and comfortable. He greets Seungkwan with damp hair, and he shares the depths of his interests, right down to their very core. He isn’t afraid to talk fast, and not an ounce of him seems to fear Seungkwan’s judgment. 

Seungkwan supposes he ought to do the same with Hansol. He finds it’s not very hard to let go at all. Actually, it’s really easy to forget that he once worried about this. Yes, Hansol is full of surprises, but as they sit close on Hansol’s couch, he’s reminded that each and every one of them has been warm and welcome. 

With their thighs pressed together, Seungkwan reaches into the popcorn bowl on Hansol’s lap and licks salt off of his fingers. He passes chocolates and jellies to Hansol from his spread of snacks and slowly figures out which ones Hansol seems to like the best. When Hansol drapes his arm over the back of the couch, Seungkwan has to suppress the thought of what it would be like if Hansol’s arm came lower. What would it be like to be wrapped up in his hold again? What would it be like to feel Hansol’s fingers touch the skin of his jaw and neck? If Seungkwan weren’t so relaxed, he’s sure he’d grow tense just from thinking about it—but it’s hard to feel uptight when they laugh together at the same scenes. It’s hard to be tense when Hansol’s grin is directed toward Seungkwan, wide and tugging at his cheeks. It’s hard to be tense when Hansol’s big hand grips Seungkwan’s knee and shakes and shakes and shakes him when the film reaches a crescendo. 

What else can he do but unravel until he’s pooling thread at Hansol’s mercy to wind up again? 

By the time the credits of Luca begin to roll, Hansol is anxiously awaiting Seungkwan’s opinion. 

Under Hansol’s expectant gaze, Seungkwan says, “I really liked it. It seemed different from a lot of the other Pixar movies I’ve seen. It was still fun, but it was just… different. Maybe it was the setting?” 

Hansol hums. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

Seungkwan hums. He fiddles with one of the cushions on Hansol’s sofa. 

“Do you think–” he starts. “I mean, maybe it’s just me, but did you ever think that Luca and Alberto were kind of…” 

“Gay?” Hansol cuts in. 

Seungkwan appreciates his directness. “Yeah. Gay.”

Hansol’s expression shifts again. His face always seems to hold multitudes. He’s somehow relieved and excited, yet sharply critical, curious. What is joy when it goes beyond mere emotion and into thought? Hansol embodies that, the pleasure it is to think alongside someone, to imagine in tandem. 

“Seungkwan-ah, there have been whole think pieces on this,” he says emphatically. “To be honest, I tried to avoid any spoilers before the first time I watched it, but I still ended up hearing some of the buzz around queer themes by the time I actually made it to the theater. Disney and the creators have denied all the queer themes and basically argued that everything between Alberto and Luca was platonic, but honestly? I don’t really care as much what the creators had to say. Some people accused them of queerbaiting too, which I understand, but personally I think it’s more important to listen to what queer people actually felt while watching it. If we saw ourselves in the film and identified with it, then yeah, there are queer themes. It matters less to me how ‘intentional’ they were.” 

Hansol stops himself in the middle of his rant to let out a laugh. He grins when he looks at Seungkwan. 

“What I mean is, no. I don’t think it’s just you.” 

Seungkwan returns his smile and picks lightly at a thread on the hem of his shirt. “It was a great film,” he replies. “I’m glad I watched it with you. I feel like I wouldn’t have watched it on my own.” 

The angle of Hansol’s head tilts just slightly more. There’s a pause that feels longer than it must actually be, and Seungkwan feels Hansol’s eyes darting over his face. Under his gaze, he feels awash with something warm. 

“I’m glad we watched it together, too. Are you tired? Do you want to take a break? We can wait before we watch another one.” 

“No! I came for the Chwe Hansol Pixar Experience. I’m waiting to hear what’s next on your list.” 

Hansol grows pensive. He uses the remote to go back to the home page, movie titles lined up on the screen. He flicks through them absently. 

“Do you want to watch another one you haven’t seen before, or something familiar?” 

Seungkwan takes a moment to consider it. “Hmm… Is there one with fun songs? I liked the music in Luca, but it’s nothing I could really sing along to. I mean, Up has that iconic song, but now whenever I hear it, it makes me want to cry.” 

Hansol’s eyes light up. “Ohhh man. Up. ‘Married Life.’ That’s the name of the song. Y’know, when that movie came out, I didn’t cry, but all the recent times I’ve seen it, I’ve totally cried. What a beautiful film, seriously.” 

“Do you want to watch that?” Seungkwan asks. 

Hansol looks at him unblinkingly. “Do you want to cry together, Seungkwan-ah?” 

His tone doesn’t give too much away, and his gaze is as heavy as ever. Seungkwan averts it, ducking his head with a shy laugh. 

“Not really.”

Hansol’s expression doesn’t shift with any particular relief or smile. It stays steady––as if he would have really sat here and cried with Seungkwan if he needed to. There’s a beat of lingering tension that Seungkwan wonders if he should begin to tear into, but then Hansol’s mouth twitches with the beginnings of a mischievous smile. 

“You know,” he drawls slowly, “speaking of music, you still owe me a serenade.”

Seungkwan covers his hot face with his hands. His voice is muffled when he replies. “I should’ve known you’d never forget about that.” 

“I’ve heard you sing before. How could I forget that I’m owed such a valuable experience? Getting a personal serenade from the Boo Seungkwan? And I get to choose the song? Like, damn. I was basically offered gold.”

“Oh, you are too much,” Seungkwan chides. He gives Hansol a playful shove, pushing at his chest. 

“I’m serious!” Hansol insists. “I pretty much won the lottery that day.” 

Using the arm that was around the couch, he wraps Seungkwan in his hold and reels him closer. Seungkwan, who had been trying to squirm away under the attention, freezes in his embrace. Hansol’s big hand grips his shoulder so gently. 

“Chwe Hansol,” Seungkwan warns, but he finds his voice carries little gravity. He’s shaky instead, unstable even though he’s being held so surely. 

Hansol moves a little closer, bringing their faces near each other. “C’mon, you must know you’re good. I know you do.”

“I…” Seungkwan starts, but he can see the flecks of hazel in Hansol’s eyes now. He can see the length of his eyelashes, the curve of his lips, the lightest of stubble on his chin. 

Was there a thought Seungkwan was supposed to finish? Something he wanted to say? It’s lost now––it’s the air between them, it’s the sugar on his fingertips, it’s the sound of an exhale when you don’t think to listen to breath. It’s nothing, nothing, nothing at all. Nothing that matters, nothing that can’t be whisked away, sucked between his teeth, pushed past his mouth. It’s lost, and Seungkwan is here: drawn close by Hansol’s gentle palm the way the morning light draws dew up from the grass. 

“You’re really good, Boo,” Hansol murmurs, and he lifts a hand to Seungkwan’s jaw, presses the pad of his thumb once to the petal of Seungkwan’s lower lip, and kisses him. 

There’s an instance where Seungkwan goes as still as morning itself, but he comes alive with the same ardor of day. He inhales sharply through his nose when he feels Hansol’s hand cup his jaw more surely, his fingers wielding just the right amount of pressure for Seungkwan to feel held. Hansol kisses Seungkwan deeply and decidedly, and all Seungkwan can do is let his eyes shut and kiss him the way he’s wanted to for weeks now. 

Hansol leans over him, and Seungkwan sinks into the couch. Their mouths start a song and a dance, meeting and parting, meeting and parting, fitting together with every reangling of their heads. 

It goes on like this for a while, and then Seungkwan gets a grip. 

He does his best to keep himself in check. Instead of wrenching away from Hansol’s kiss to launch into a confused yet dramatic monologue about what just happened, he suppresses the urge and lets the kiss pitter out naturally. Hansol leaves one more gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Seungkwan lifts his fingers to touch his lips after they break apart. Opening his eyes to the light of the TV feels almost blinding. The movie selection page flashes at him, like opening curtains to the brightness of daylight. 

Hansol keeps a hand on Seungkwan even though their kiss has broken. His fingers trace softly at the side of Seungkwan’s neck. His eyes are dark and focused, and he looks like he’s going to lean in and kiss Seungkwan again. Knowing that, there’s a part of Seungkwan that wants to just let it happen. How tempting is it to just close his eyes and allow himself to be kissed? He almost does it, but reality strikes him way too hard. He knows he’d be doing himself no favors if he decided to just turn a blind eye to how confused he is. 

Usually, Seungkwan prides himself on not being the type to shoot himself in the foot, even though shooting himself in the foot right now is pretty inviting, seeing as it would involve Hansol’s tongue back in his mouth. 

“Wait,” Seungkwan says. Hansol’s mouth is just a breath away from his own when he actually gets the word out. 

Hansol blinks. Seungkwan watches the rise and fall of his long and delicate eyelashes up close, and then Hansol moves backward, registering Seungkwan’s words. His hand drops from Seungkwan’s neck to his hand. He takes it in his hold, his fingers starting to dance over the thin skin of Seungkwan’s wrist. 

“Yeah, what’s up, Boo?” 

“What’s up?” Seungkwan repeats, and he has to work to keep some incredulity from his voice. Maybe he acted too soon. Maybe he was actually naive to think that he’d somehow get out of this situation without giving a confused, dramatic monologue. “How can you ask me what’s up?” 

Hansol’s brows tighten in thought. “Well, I just kissed you, and when I was gonna kiss you again, you said ‘Wait,’ so…”

“Do not start with me, Chwe Hansol,” Seungkwan warns. 

“I was serious–” Hansol starts, but Seungkwan doesn’t really give his defense much of a chance. 

“The last time we were in a situation like this, I basically threw myself at you, and you turned me away like a wet dog. What am I supposed to think now? With you kissing me like that?” 

Hansol draws a sweet little pattern on Seungkwan’s forearm and frowns. Hard. 

“A wet dog,” he mutters, displeased. “That’s kind of harsh. Although, sometimes wet dogs can still be cute–” 

“Yah,” says Seungkwan. “You got my point.”

“Yeah, well–” Hansol tries again. 

Seungkwan stops him once more by pressing a finger against Hansol’s mouth, still warm from their kiss. 

“Wait,” he repeats. “I just don’t get it. I thought you didn’t want to sleep with me? Why did you– why did you kiss me like that? Yes, I admit it, maybe my wet dog analogy was a little hyperbolic, forgive me. But at Mingyu’s birthday party, you definitely rejected me. I know I didn’t make that up. This whole time, I thought you weren’t into me! I mean, you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to fuck me.” 

Hansol pauses before responding, his mouth drawing into a perfect little circle as he contemplates. In Seungkwan’s respectful opinion, Hansol takes a little bit longer than necessary to mull things over, considering what suspense Seungkwan is waiting in. 

“Oh, I did,” says Hansol, a little too nonchalant for Seungkwan’s liking. “The thing is, I didn’t want to just sleep with you.” 

Seungkwan groans, a little frustrated and definitely struggling to wrap his head around this. “So what. Do you not want to at all?” 

“Want to what? Fuck people?“

“Casually,” Seungkwan specifies. 

Hansol makes his thinking face again, eyebrows shifting, mouth quirking up. 

“Well, not people I like, no. Not usually.” 

Seungkwan rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, and in a moment of revelation, lets out a loud, enlightened gasp. “I know what it was! It’s because I was blonde then, wasn’t it.” 

“What? No!” Hansol denies. He grasps Seungkwan’s hand again, thumbs across his knuckles. “You’re always hot. Like, fuck. I’ve always thought that.” 

And with that, this conversation officially becomes too insane for Seungkwan to handle. He full on gapes, mouth open in pure shock. 

“Always?” 

Hansol’s lips pull down in a concurring look, nodding slowly, like he’s assessing his own memory. “As long as I’ve known you, yeah.” 

“Crazy,” Seungkwan breathes. Crazy! Nothing makes sense! 

“It’s not that crazy,” Hansol says. “I actually remember the day I met you.” 

“What?” Seungkwan exclaims, eyes growing wide. “No way. You’re lying.”

If Hansol wasn’t still holding his hand, Seungkwan would hug his knees into his chest and curl up into a ball on the couch. 

“Wow. Big accusations over here.” 

Seungkwan pouts. Hansol is looking at him so sweetly. He can’t believe any of this. 

“Well, at least prove it, if you’re gonna say something like that.” 

Hansol takes it like a challenge, sitting up straighter. With one hand, he laces his fingers with Seungkwan’s; with the other, he uses it to talk, gesturing in big motions. 

“Okay, picture this. Winter, three years ago. Lee Chan is graduating from university and he decided to have a big celebration. It’s as cold as it normally is on a February night, but no one is really expecting it to snow. All of his friends are meeting at a barbeque restaurant in a private room. I’m sitting at the end of the table, and suddenly, you appear, a scarf wrapped around your neck and a bottle of some expensive liquor tucked under your arm. You walk in like you’re on a mission and storm up to Chan, shouting, ‘Lee Jungchan! I hate you for making me walk in this snow for your graduation party!’ Then you pause, looking kind of like you might cry, and say, ‘I am so proud of you.’” 

Hansol laughs at his own narration. 

“Then you guys hugged, for like, a long time.”

Seungkwan is hit with the urge to join Hansol in his laughter because his retelling of the story is so good (and factually accurate!), but he has more important things to focus on. 

“And you thought I was hot. During that specific moment.” 

Hansol looks up like he’s parsing through his own memories, as if there are images in the front of his mind that he can just swipe through. “Well, after you took off the scarf that was obscuring most of your face. Yeah.” 

Seungkwan drags a palm over his face. “Ohh, Chwe Hansol, you’re driving me absolutely nuts. It’s been weeks– and now– this?” 

“Weeks of what?” Hansol asks. 

“Agony!” Seungkwan exclaims, slapping his hand on Hansol’s knee. 

“Boo, that’s not really an explanation.” 

Seungkwan pouts again, and he lets out a huff of frustration. Hansol looks at him with those stupid, earnest eyes of his, and the hand that’s gone back to drawing patterns on Seungkwan’s skin lifts up to cradle Seungkwan’s cheek. It hovers there, like he’s waiting for Seungkwan to recoil, but when Seungkwan doesn’t go anywhere, he cups Seungkwan’s face. His touch is gentle beneath Seungkwan’s eye when he draws their gazes together, and then he leans in slowly to kiss Seungkwan again. 

Seungkwan can’t find a reason to deny himself another kiss, and he sighs into it once their lips touch. Even in situations as close and intimate as this, Hansol moves around him with so much care and attention. His fingers brush some hair behind Seungkwan’s ear, and Seungkwan completely surrenders to the feeling: the taste of Hansol; the feeling of his touch on his waist; the scent of his mild shampoo; the sweetness clinging to his tongue from the candies they ate; the heat; rhythm; meeting, meeting, and meeting again. The kiss makes Seungkwan feel like they’re young lovers on a late night, stuck trying to say goodbye––each time one of them tries to pull away, they’re tugged helplessly back together. Again. Again. Just one more. What if I forget how you taste? What if I haven’t learned it yet? What if it changes while you’re gone? Why be apart now that I know what together feels like? 

It’s playful and yearning. When the kiss does break, there’s no goodbye waiting for them, but Seungkwan still wants to kiss him again. He settles for leaning their foreheads together instead of moving away from him. There’s a moment where they just breathe. Hansol’s hand has taken to wandering along Seungkwan’s waist, flitting at the hem of his top like he’d rather be touching beneath it. 

“That was okay, right?” Hansol checks. 

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says, as if okay could come close to covering it. 

They take a moment like that, bathed in the low afternoon light and the flashes from the TV screen, now filled by a floating screensaver that bounces from edge to edge.  

Seungkwan moves away eventually, even though he’d much rather like to stay pressed together for the rest of the evening, ignoring the conversation that he knows waits for them to instead find out every way their mouths can move together. 

“I thought you just wanted to be friends,” he starts. 

Hansol makes a soft sound. 

“Well, I like you, and I’m attracted to you, but I’d also really like to consider you my friend.” He scratches his head, looking a little puzzled. “Honestly, I always thought we were friends. You really caught me off guard the other day.”

Seungkwan sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I meant to apologize earlier, but–” 

“Did you really think we weren’t?” Hansol interrupts gently. 

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. It makes sense that their conversation has wound up here, but he’s now faced with the formidable challenge of figuring out how to explain the evolution of his feelings for Hansol, which have proven to be pretty complicated. 

“It’s not that. I just– I think I was in denial a little. I got kind of… butthurt when you pushed me away that night. I really thought you were into me, so when that didn’t end up going anywhere, I maybe might have gotten a little petty.” He smiles sheepishly, but it looks more like a wince. “I’m sorry. In my defense, it really does take me a while to feel close to people. Before Mingyu’s party, obviously I knew you, but we’d never spent that much time together, so I didn’t think of you as a friend in the sense that we might hang out one on one. You weren’t someone I would go to if I was upset or having a hard time.”

Seungkwan wonders if he sounds like he’s floundering as much as he thinks. What a difficult thing to explain! How, freshly-kissed and feeling vulnerable, can he even begin to express his thoughts on what a friend is? On what a friend can be? On how that might change over time, or how different friends can give you different things? In truth, he’s sure that Hansol would understand him if he tried, but he’s not sure he has the words right now. He decides to just continue. If this conversation goes the way he hopes, he’ll have plenty of chances in the future to show Hansol all the things that live in his heart. 

“Of course, everything changed after that. We started seeing each other way more often, and I could see how much of an effort you were making to spend time with me. You were even thinking of me when we weren’t spending time together. Like the tangerines.” Seungkwan sighs. His cheeks are hot. There’s an ugly mix of embarrassment and guilt in his breath. “I think I wasn’t considering you a friend because I wasn’t allowing you to be my friend. But I also think that might’ve been because I liked you. I told myself that by getting closer to you, I’d be setting myself up for disappointment, because I thought you didn’t like me like that.” 

Hansol stays quiet for longer than Seungkwan expects, so Seungkwan’s anxiety flares. 

“Sorry,” he says, rubbing at one of his cheeks. “That made no sense, right?”

Hansol shakes his head, but he still looks contemplative. 

“No, I get it. It’s not like we ever talked about anything. I definitely wasn’t thinking about how that night would impact the way you looked at our relationship. And you kind of ran out of the room before I could say anything else to you.”

Seungkwan pokes Hansol’s thigh in protest. “I did not run. ”

“You kinda ran, babe.” 

Seungkwan ignores the thrill that zips up his spine at the sound of Hansol calling him a sweet name in favor of sticking his tongue out at him. 

“Excuse me for thinking it was weird that you turned down a very good offer of having me any way you wanted, but still asking me to go eat dinner with you an hour later!” 

“Any way?” asks Hansol interestedly, his eyes tracking over Seungkwan’s body. 

Seungkwan blushes again, but he remains stern. “Oh, is that how you’re gonna be? Hm?” 

Now that Seungkwan knows that Hansol wants him, it’s not exactly surprising that he’d act shamelessly like this, but it still makes Seungkwan want to squirm under his gaze. Hansol shifts on the couch so they face each other directly. He takes Seungkwan’s hand again and holds it with the same firm grasp he used to pull Seungkwan up from the floor earlier. His eye contact is intense and unwavering. 

“Seungkwan-ah, I’ll be straight up with you. I really like you. I’ve liked you for a while, but honestly, you’re kind of a busy person. There were a lot of moments when I thought about trying to get closer to you, but it didn’t happen until recently. It sucks that it took me hurting your feelings to get here, and I’m really sorry about pushing you away that night. It wasn’t my intention to hurt or confuse you, but I get how my actions can be… confusing sometimes. In a way that I don’t always notice. I’d rather just be direct now. I didn’t sleep with you that night because I didn’t want it to just be about sleeping with you. Plus, I knew you’d had a few drinks, and I wasn’t sure how many. My point is, I liked you then, barely knowing you. I think I can say I know you now. And I like you even more.”

“Oh,” says Seungkwan. He laughs in disbelief, mouth hidden behind the slender length of his fingers. “If you told me that I’d be hearing any of this a few months ago, I would’ve never believed you.”

“Yeah? How does Present You feel about hearing it?” Hansol murmurs. 

“Happy,” Seungkwan breathes. He bumps their foreheads together. “Like I want you to kiss me again.”

“That’s doable,” says Hansol, and he does as he says. 

If Hansol had been holding back when they kissed before, this time he’s without abandon. He kisses Seungkwan deeply, and the polite hands that had hovered around Seungkwan’s face and waist start to wander. Rather than just toying with the hem of Seungkwan’s shirt, he actually sneaks his way under, his cool fingers making Seungkwan gasp when they trace up his sides. Seungkwan’s breath picks up, and he lets out gasps into Hansol’s mouth. They act as Hansol’s cannon fodder; with every sound Seungkwan makes, the further he tests his boundaries, running his nails gently down Seungkwan’s spine, dipping his fingers into the waistband of his briefs, running a flat palm across his belly. 

Seungkwan has to pause to catch his breath, and Hansol takes every advantage of it. He drops his mouth to Seungkwan’s neck and leaves hot kisses all the way down to his shoulder. 

“Every time we were together, I thought about kissing you,” Hansol mumbles. His tongue makes an appearance against Seungkwan’s collarbone. Seungkwan wonders briefly if he can ask for his teeth, too. 

“I thought you were going to, the other day. When we walked home together.” Seungkwan barely musters out his words, flushing even further from how breathless he sounds. Hansol has done so little yet affected him so much. 

“I wanted to,” Hansol replies. He lifts his head to touch Seungkwan’s mouth with his thumb. Seungkwan uses every bit of his restraint not to take the digit into his mouth, even though he’d rather part his lips and feel it against his tongue. “I wanted to kiss you here,” Hansol continues, and he leaves a kiss to Seungkwan’s mouth. “But also here,” and he kisses by Seungkwan’s ear. “And here,” and he kisses the corner of Seungkwan’s jaw. “And here,” and he winds up back where he started, dropping a kiss to Seungkwan’s neck. 

“Hansol-ah,” Seungkwan croaks. 

“What?” Hansol asks. He perks up right away, his soft brown eyes incredibly dark––but as big and attentive as always. 

“You’re being so–”

“Is it too much? I can tone it back.” 

“Don’t even think about it,” Seungkwan says, and he grips the hair at the back of Hansol’s head to pull him into a searing kiss. Hansol takes Seungkwan’s fervor as encouragement, and with a gentle hand on Seungkwan’s back, he leans over Seungkwan to slowly lower him down onto the couch. Seungkwan relinquishes himself to Hansol’s guidance and lets go completely. He finds himself almost limp in Hansol’s hold, and he likes the weight and pressure of Hansol’s body on top of his when Hansol settles neatly between his legs. 

Seungkwan loses track of time after that. They kiss on the couch, body to body, feeling the room grow darker and darker as the sun continues to go down. Seungkwan feels a kind of youthfulness with how eager he is to be close to Hansol, like someone has lit a fire in him and every kiss stokes his sparking flame. 

Hansol runs his mouth whenever it’s not pressed to Seungkwan’s, and he always talks sweetly. He says murmured words in a low voice, and each little phrase he whispers against Seungkwan’s skin drives the coil in him together and tighter. He speaks so naturally Seungkwan starts to wonder if his words are absentminded. Does he even know what he’s doing? Is he driving Seungkwan this wild on purpose? 

Seungkwan feels Hansol get hard above him as he rolls his hips down to meet Seungkwan’s. Seungkwan grows hot in his shirt, and he wonders if Hansol can feel how he’s fueled the flame. Has he noticed that the skin beneath Seungkwan’s clothes is fiery now? Has he noticed how the small of Seungkwan’s back has gone a little tacky with sweat? Has he noticed the flush in Seungkwan’s cheeks? The heat hiding in the crook of his neck?

Seungkwan can’t ask or worry about it. He can only buck his hips up to meet his movement, letting out a soft moan whenever Hansol murmurs in his ear to say how good he feels, or how soft he is, or how nice he smells. 

The sofa is big enough for the both of them by far, but it’s still not enough space for Seungkwan to spread out the way he wants to. He adjusts his legs a little further apart so Hansol can settle even better between them, but in the process, he ends up kicking the remote that he hadn’t even known was underneath him. 

There are a few more moments of blissful silence, and then seconds later, the opening scene of Cars blares out loudly. 

Hansol takes a beat to sit up, his hair a ruffled mess, and the two of them hold eye contact until they burst into unbridled, simultaneous laughter. It takes a while for them to come down from it––the hoots and breaths and shaking of it all. 

“I guess we upset some force in the universe by choosing to make out instead of watching a second Pixar movie,” says Hansol. 

Seungkwan lets out one more disbelieving laugh and reaches a hand up to fix Hansol’s wild hair, though his efforts don’t accomplish very much. 

“Would Cars have been your next pick?” Seungkwan asks. 

“Oh, definitely not,” Hansol says. He pauses thoughtfully. “Though I’m sure you could belt ‘Life is a Highway’ if you wanted.” 

Seungkwan laughs again and is faced by the surprise of Hansol getting off of him completely. He stands to find the remote that was flung to the floor with his kick, and he switches off the TV. Seungkwan had expected him to crawl back to his space between his legs, but Hansol stays standing. Seungkwan gives him a wide-eyed look and opens his arms a little further, but Hansol reaches for his hand and pulls him up instead. 

Hansol tugs him into a hug, and when they press together, Seungkwan can feel how turned on they both were. He wraps his arms tightly around Hansol’s neck and breathes him in. The frantic moment of their kisses departs, and the pause is welcome. The shift is incredible. One moment, they were like the roaring waves of the sea amidst a storm, and the next, they’re like the glassy surface of a lake at daybreak. Even though Seungkwan can still feel his own pulse ringing in his ears, he does his best to take in this lull in their energy. He likes that Hansol can hold him like this. He likes that they can slow down. He likes that even in their rapture and their eagerness, they can still laugh and find space in each other’s arms. 

Hansol shifts his mouth to brush against Seungkwan’s ear. “I like holding you,” he murmurs. 

Seungkwan presses his nose against Hansol’s neck and hopes the smack of his lips at his pulsepoint counts as an answer. 

“Can I take you to my room?” Hansol asks after a few more moments. 

Seungkwan snickers when he breaks their hug. He pretends to toy it over, scratching his chin and looking up at the ceiling. “I’ve only been waiting for this moment for… I don’t know, two, three months?” 

Hansol’s eyes narrow devilishly. He looks a little too smug for Seungkwan’s liking. “Oh, so you really wanted to fuck me that night, huh?” 

Seungkwan pouts instantly. “We’re not discussing this.” 

“Aw, why not?” Hansol whines, hands fidgeting where they hold Seungkwan’s waist. 

“I didn’t really want to fuck you,” Seungkwan replies, indignant. 

“So you only wanted to fuck me a little?”

Seungkwan’s mouth flattens into a straight line. He refuses to give away too much, even though his erection is probably doing most of the work for him. 

“How about this, Hansol-ah,” he starts, drawing out his sentence. “I want to fuck you now.”

Hansol blinks, and his teasing vanishes at once, like steam that rises and dissipates–– even hotter, with how badly Hansol wants him. 

“Works for me.” 

He fits his big palm to Seungkwan’s cheek again, pulling their mouths together for another kiss. This time he doesn’t bother to hold back at all, and his other hand goes straight to Seungkwan’s ass. He squeezes, making Seungkwan squeak into their kiss. Seungkwan’s poor jumpy heart isn’t given a chance to settle down at all, because Hansol takes his hand and drags him into the direction of his room. Seungkwan is happy to trail behind him, wondering if his hand is as sweaty as it feels, wondering if his giddiness is somehow sexy, wondering in what ways Hansol will want him. 

Because he lives alone, there’s no real need for Hansol to close the door to his bedroom once he and Seungkwan are inside of it, but he does so anyway, just to kiss Seungkwan against the surface of it. Seungkwan’s shoulder blades press flat into the wood of the door as Hansol leans into him, getting a thigh between Seungkwan’s legs and both hands on Seungkwan’s cheeks. Hansol kisses him just like that, the slow movements of his hips driving Seungkwan crazy. He gasps out breaths whenever he can manage, and the cloudiness of his head is muddled with the disbelief that he’s really wound up here. 

Wasn’t it earlier today that he was wondering whether Hansol even wanted to kiss him at all?

“You’ve thought about this, right? Having me?” Seungkwan barely musters the question, tilting his neck so that Hansol’s kisses are directed toward his jaw instead of his mouth. 

Hansol’s answer is so serious it’s like a world-stop. 

“Seungkwan-ah. You have no idea.”

Hansol is so forthright that it makes Seungkwan heat up, but Seungkwan is also curious. He may be backed against a door, but he knows that he can have as much control as he wants. He’s emboldened by the fact that he’s wanted––that he was right. Once, he told Hansol that all he had to do was ask if wanted Seungkwan. All he had to do was ask, and he could’ve had exactly what he wanted. 

Now, they’re here again, and Hansol only has to do one thing. 

“Ask me,” Seungwan says. “Ask me, and you can do whatever you want with me.” 

Hansol sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. They hadn’t flipped on the light switch when they came into the bedroom, and the brightness of the city isn’t doing much to illuminate the space. Hansol is all shadows and his eyes are completely black, yet Seungkwan gets all he needs from his silhouette, and the spark in his irises, and the shape of his hands as they outline the curve of Seungkwan’s waist in the dark. 

“Seungkwan,” says Hansol, voice low. “Can I have you? I have to have you.”

“Yes,” Seungkwan replies on an exhale. 

“I’ll make it good for you.” 

Following Hansol’s declaration, Seungkwan finds himself flat on his back on Hansol’s mattress in just a few seconds. The bed had only been haphazardly made when Seungkwan came in, but he settles into the soft, ruffled material of the duvet. He likes the way it smells like Hansol, and even more so, he likes the way Hansol hovers over him. Their hips touch where Hansol’s thighs split around Seungkwan’s waist. Their eye contact zings like magnets, not needing any light to find each other. 

Hansol puts a pillow under Seungkwan’s head, and the added leverage makes it even easier to gaze up at what’s above him. Hansol is defined mostly by his outline. In the dark, Seungkwan can see him breathing. He sees the curls of his hair and the definition of his arms in his shirt. He’s left with an unbridled want: to touch him, to taste him, to feel his weight. He wants them to sink into each other the way one might sink into sweet summertime water; with a few cautious steps to get a hold of the feeling, and then to dive right in, utterly enveloped by it. 

Seungkwan touches Hansol’s waistline and fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt. Hansol doesn’t hesitate before peeling it off––up over his head and tossed to the side. Bare-chested, he reaches over Seungkwan to flick on the lamp at the bedside. As he extends his arm, Seungkwan watches the sinew of his abdomen as his muscles clench. The movement of his body makes Seungkwan lick his lips to wet his dry mouth. 

He wonders if there’s such a thing as wanting someone too much. 

The lamplight isn’t strong. Rather, it bathes them in gentle yellows and oranges. Still, he squints at the change, and as if he has to answer for it, Hansol explains, “Wanted to see you. Can I see you?” He finishes his question with his fingers paused at the top of Seungkwan’s shirt. 

The result of Seungkwan’s earlier fretting over his outfit had been soft sweat shorts and a loose, baby blue button down. Now, Hansol is halfway to stripping him out of it, and he swallows. A bubble of insecurity is trying to rise up at his chest, and he pushes it down by focusing on the honesty and desire dancing around in Hansol’s eyes. 

Seungkwan moves Hansol’s hand out of the way to undo the first two buttons of his shirt himself, and then he leaves Hansol to the rest. Hansol undoes the buttons with deft fingers and leaves a trail of kisses as he works his way down Seungkwan’s torso. 

“Holy shit,” he says when the shirt flutters around Seungkwan’s body. He runs his palm over Seungkwan’s belly, focusing on the curve of his waist. “Look at you.”

“Stop it,” Seungkwan mumbles, his cheek against the pillow. 

“No way,” says Hansol. “Your body is crazy, Boo.”

He touches everywhere he looks as if to commit it to memory. He traces over Seungkwan’s delicate collarbones. He flicks a thumb over Seungkwan’s hard, darkened nipple. He caresses the dip of his waist. Leaves a kiss to the spot beneath Seungkwan’s belly button, where a light trail of hair leads down to his cock, swollen in his briefs and making a tent in his little cotton shorts. Hansol sits up straight to cup his hand over it, giving Seungkwan some friction after being turned on for so long. Seungkwan whines loudly at the touch before covering his face with his hand in embarrassment. 

“No, none of that,” Hansol chides. He gives Seungkwan’s cock another squeeze before coming up to kiss him. “You sound so good. I just want to make you feel good. What do you want, Seungkwan-ah? How can I make you feel good?” 

Seungkwan purses his lips. He thought the answer was obvious. “Well, aren’t you going to fuck me?” 

Hansol’s eyes grow wide. He’s so gorgeous in the lamp light, the sharp lines of his brows, jaw, and cheeks even stronger with the shadows. 

“Yeah, yeah. I can do that.” He falters a little. “Are you– if you need to–” 

Seungkwan stops his stammering with another kiss. “I’m fine. I can prep myself. Or you can prep me. I don’t care. And before you ask, yes, I did let the 1% odds of us having sex today impact how long my shower was before coming over this afternoon, so.”

Hansol gapes for a second, then collects himself. He arches one of those sharp brows. “I think your odds were a little off, babe.” 

“Oh yeah? What were your odds, hm? Did you invite me over thinking we were 100% going to fuck?” 

Hansol laughs. “No,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth close to Seungkwan’s yet again. Their lips nearly brush when he keeps speaking. “I was just being an optimist, I guess.”

Seungkwan barely gets to laugh with him before they’re kissing again. Seungkwan actually takes the chance to touch Hansol’s skin this time. He’s rippling with heat, and Seungkwan traces the outline of the light muscles in his back. He wants to feel them tense. He wants to feel Hansol work. 

Hansol ends up stripping them both of their clothes, and he disappears to the en suite for a towel after pulling lube and condoms from one of his drawers. Back on the bed, all of his attention goes to Seungkwan. He plays with his cock first, making sure Seungkwan stays turned on. He seems in no rush, touching Seungkwan slowly and deliberately even though his own erection is hard and leaky against his belly. When he dips his thumb into the slit of Seungkwan’s cock, tugging downwards, Seungkwan squirms, chasing his hands away. 

“Hey, are you gonna open me up, or do I have to do it?” Seungkwan says. He tries to be whiny about it, but he mostly sounds breathless. 

“No, I’m definitely gonna do it. You’re just so–” He reaches for Seungkwan’s dick again even though Seungkwan had batted his hands away. He runs a finger down the length of it, making Seungkwan’s belly tighten. His eyes are fixed, unwaveringly, on Seungkwan’s body. “Do you think you can come more than once?” 

Seungkwan bites his lip and hisses. “Ah, maybe? I have before, but– Not now, okay? Not yet.” 

Hansol grins wolfishly, and then he nudges Seungkwan’s thighs further apart to reach between them, fingers wet with lube. 

“Even like this your ass is so great,” Hansol says. “Do you like getting fucked on your hands and knees?”

“Oh my god.” 

Hansol is rubbing circles over his hole and asking about fucking him doggystyle. What is Seungkwan even supposed to answer?

“I wanna eat you out, too. Can I do that next time?” Hansol continues. His free hand fixes at the crease of Seungkwan’s thigh. Seungkwan imagines his grip tightening as he lowers his mouth to lick at Seungkwan’s entrance, and– Seungkwan shudders. 

“You are something else, Chwe Hansol.”

“I told you that I thought about it.” He meets Seungkwan’s eyes and rubs his free hand over Seungkwan’s chest soothingly, right above his rapidly beating heart. His touch drags down to Seungkwan’s hipbone, both reassuring and teasing at once. “Sorry. It’s a little hard to have a filter when I have you like this.”

Seungkwan feels a little pressure, and he takes a deep breath. Hansol twists a finger inside of him, pumping it loosely. It feels good. Right away, Seungkwan has thoughts of chasing the feeling. Hansol eggs him on with the way his eyes keep traveling around Seungkwan’s body; from his legs, back to his face, to his mouth, over to the little bite mark Seungkwan can now see is blooming on his chest. 

“Later,” Seungkwan gasps. “After you feed me dinner and let me use your shower, you– ah, you can do that. Both of those things.” 

Hansol sucks a heady breath through his teeth and uses one big palm to press Seungkwan’s knee down against the bed. With his thighs spread like this, the skin of his legs become a landing ground for Hansol’s mouth as he pushes another finger into Seungkwan’s hole. 

Seungkwan’s moans, starting to rock back against the feeling of being opened. The movement of his hips speeds up Hansol’s actions, and it’s not long before he has three fingers stuffed into Seungkwan. Seungkwan cock stays mostly hard, his belly tightening up every time Hansol angles his wrist upward. He leaks a little onto his stomach when Hansol finds the right spot. At one point, Seungkwan swears Hansol is going to dip his head down to lick it up. 

When Seungkwan gives him the green light, Hansol sits up on his knees to roll a condom over his cock. Then he waits with a grip on both of Seungkwan’s thighs, staring down like he’s gotten an idea he’s hesitant to ask for. Just from the look in his eye, Seungkwan has a feeling that he knows what Hansol wants, so he elongates his neck against the pillow and gives Hansol a knowing glance. 

“Just do it,” Seungkwan urges him. “I like it.” 

Hansol bites back a curse, curls his blunt nails into Seungkwan’s flesh, and then hitches one of Seungkwan’s legs right over his shoulder. The other, he holds out to the side, maneuvering him easily. He leaves Seungkwan spread perfectly open, the expanse of his thigh shown off for Hansol to press his fingers against. Seungkwan writhes against his pillow. Now here he is: pink and losing patience, bent in half and ready for Hansol carve into him like he’s marble and they’re about to make some fucking art. 

“Fuck,” Hansol says, and Seungkwan doesn’t need to be fluent in English to know exactly what that means. Hansol pushes into Seungkwan slowly, though Seungkwan isn’t sure for whose sake it is. Either way it’s the most perfect kind of agony. He takes a moment, going still once their hips are flush together. “What else do you like?” he asks, stroking his hand up and down Seungkwan’s inner thigh. 

“I– ah. I think you’ll figure it out,” Seungkwan chokes out, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a challenge. 

Hansol accepts, kissing him fiercely one more time before he fucks Seungkwan exactly as good as he said he would. He starts slow. He builds like the rising action, each rhythmic stroke of his hips bringing Seungkwan higher and higher. Seungkwan gets to watch all of the tension building within him play out on his body. His abdomen tightens and clenches. His wavy hair, still a mess, falls into his eyes. His mouth is increasingly red from the way he bites it, ripening like summer fruit. Tasting even sweeter. 

Knowing now that Hansol likes it, Seungkwan doesn’t bother to hold back any of the sounds bursting from his lips, but from the second Hansol starts to rock in and out of him, Seungkwan knows he won’t last long. It’s going to be a short climb to the climax; any attempt to slow it down would surely be a losing game. 

The journey to the top grows even shorter when Hansol starts to talk again. 

“That’s it, baby. You feel so good,” Hansol groans. He holds eye contact while he speaks, merciless in the way he looks at Seungkwan––shadowy and sinful and stealing every ounce of Seungkwan’s attention. 

Even praise would be enough to wind Seungkwan up, but Hansol doesn’t stop there. He speaks into the room like Seungkwan is an audience, his words bouncing with rhythm, his staccato breath stippled between the thrusts of his hips. 

“I want to figure out every way you like it. We can do that, can’t we? Let’s just fuck until we get it perfect, and then we can do it again, exactly how you need it. You’ll see later, when I can bend you over and taste you. You’ll look so pretty coming all over yourself like that. God, Boo. Can’t wait to see you like that. Yeah. You’ll have to show me.”

“I’ll show you,” Seungkwan croaks, surprised he even manages any words at all. 

It escalates like that: Hansol fucking Seungkwan with his legs over his head, and Seungkwan feeling perfect beneath him. He feels small, and sexy, and wanted. He feels like his skin is on fire, uncaring of the way his face squeezes up or the tremble in his thighs from being held like this. Hansol, devotedly, pays attention to Seungkwan’s every move, as if to commit each like and dislike to his memory so he can do this even better next time. 

Hansol’s heed winds Seungkwan up even further, and with it comes a realization that turns him even more: this is only the first time. Every time that follows this will feel even better, will make him come even harder, will make him scream even louder––and Hansol makes sure that he knows this. He makes note of everything he finds aloud, muttering little quips to Seungkan like, “Oh, you like it when I touch you here?” Or, “What about on your side, do you like getting fucked like that? I can fuck you in the morning, too.” Or, with his fingers by Seungkwan’s tongue, “I’ll get on my knees for you in the shower, Seungkwan-ah. Oh– you want me in your mouth? Yeah, I’ll give you that, babe.” 

It goes on and on until Seungkwan reaches the peak, feeling like he’s going to snap, and he cries out, “Hansollie, Hansol– you have to touch me now. I need to come.” 

Hansol carefully unwinds Seungkwan’s legs from over his shoulders and guides them to instead wrap around his waist. Still holding Seungkwan’s gaze, he wraps his fist around Seungkwan’s cock, but the new position has slowed things. His hand and hips move in tandem, steady, almost lazy. He hovers his mouth by Seungkwan’s own, both of them slick, sore, and bitten. 

Still, Seungkwan wants another taste. 

“Don’t hold back,” Seungkwan demands, and for Hansol has given, for all he’s figured out on his own, he listens just as well. He rabbits his hips and flicks his wrist, kissing Seungkwan sloppy and wet, their tongues meeting between them. 

The climax is a beautiful rush, punctuated by Seungkwan’s loud moan as he releases all over his chest and belly. Hansol is right behind him, biting hard on Seungkwan’s collarbone when he comes into the condom. 

For a few minutes, the sounds of the room are reduced to just their breathing, brisk from how rough they fucked. Hansol rolls over beside Seungkwan, tying up the condom and flinging it in the trash near the bed. As they stay breathing together, Hansol wipes Seungkwan down with the towel he’d gotten before, and when he’s done, he settles down on the bed again. Between them, he reaches for Seungkwan’s hand, tangling their fingers. 

Funny, how after such raw and filthy sex, something like that is enough to get Seungkwan to blush again. 

He squeezes tight, and he rolls onto his side to give Hansol a kiss on the cheek. He thinks he might catch Hansol flushing a little, too. 

Still, these moments are not enough to stop Seungkwan’s thoughts from pouring back in, though there is rarely much that can. In their quiet afterglow, Seungkwan finds himself beginning to flood with questions of worry. What happens next? How will this moment evolve, and how will it leave them? What will they turn into, if anything–

His thoughts, though, are silenced just as they start to spool up. Letting go of Seungkwan’s hand, Hansol props himself up on his elbow and traces one of his warm fingers over Seungkwan’s ribs. 

There’s a pensive look on his face, one that draws his eyebrows together. 

“So what should we order for dinner?” Hansol asks. Deep in his dinner menu consideration, he pokes a mole on Seungkwan’s chest. “I’m kinda hungry.” 

Hansol is hungry. He’s scratching his shoulder with his eyes on Seungkwan, and he’s hungry. Maybe, Seungkwan considers, there’s not so much to worry about after all. He takes a moment to experience the future: 

There’s a heated game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to get out of bed to retrieve one of their phones from the living room. Once they’re scrolling through a delivery app, they pull the duvet over them to fight the chill on their still-sweaty skin. They stay pink in the lamp light, hair in their eyes, knocking their toes against each other’s calves. Hansol drops a kiss to Seungkwan’s forehead, and traces of the city enter the bedroom through the sound of rushing cars and zingy neon lights. Hansol, in his deepest, softest voice, tells another story about one of the movie posters on his wall, an allegory of sorts, with racoons taking the shape of people, and what it means to have a home. 

After a few minutes, when there’s food on the way and a second list of films that Seungkwan needs to watch, well, he thinks he ought to welcome the future no matter which way it comes. 

“You know… Maybe we should go and get a drink, and then come back. Then I’ll consider if I can do this.”

To prevent him from getting up, Hansol wraps his arms around Seungkwan’s middle, hauling him back down onto the noraebang couch. 

“Boo, no. You do not need alcohol for this.”

“Need? No. Desire –”

“Seungkwan-ah,” Hansol drones, unwavering. “This was a promise.” 

Seungkwan huffs, crossing his arms over his chest even though he’s still happily being held by Hansol. “Promises can be broken!”

“Why are you so embarrassed anyway, hm?” Hansol asks, thumb at Seungkwan’s chin. “You sing every day.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “To children!” he retorts. 

Hansol isn’t having it. 

“You post covers online, too. I’ve heard them.”

“Stalker.”

“They’re in your Instagram bio!” Hansol says, laughing. He squeezes Seungkwan’s waist gently and brushes some of his hair back, already growing out from when he dyed it brown. He leans in to kiss Seungkwan with a hand on his shoulder, and Seungkwan’s stomach swoops the same way it always has since the first time they kissed. Alone in the private singing room, Seungkwan gets greedy, and he reels Hansol in for one more kiss as soon as he starts to pull away. 

“We’re just singing,” Hansol continues. “The serenade doesn’t even have to be the first song you do! Let’s just queue up some tracks so we don’t waste all our time.” 

Ah, yes. Indeed. It is Seungkwan’s day of reckoning. The time has finally come for Seungkwan to deliver on his promised serenade that Hansol, somehow, has refused to live down, even weeks later. For whatever reason, the thought of it has Seungkwan terribly embarrassed and a little petulant. It’s not that he doesn’t want to sing or doesn’t like singing, of course not. He’s telling himself that it’s more of the principle of the thing. 

“Fine,” Seungkwan mutters. 

Hansol squishes his cheeks. “No pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” replies Seungkwan, pouting. 

Hansol kisses him again, a peck this time, broken up by more of his laughter. 

“You’re pouting a little. What would you have done if someone else had brought you your folder that day? Would you have sung for them?”

Seungkwan huffs at that rather narrow-minded line of thinking. “First of all, if you hadn’t been the one to bring me my folder that day, we probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now, trading kisses at a noraebang. Second of all, I highly doubt anyone else in that group chat would follow up this insistently for a serenade from me.” 

Seungkwan’s second point is somewhat subject to debate, because he could see a few of his friends being pretty annoying about this. (Seungcheol, because he loves to hold an unserious grudge. Junhui, because he really likes when Seungkwan sings. Chan, just to be a pest.) Seungkwan decides not to bring this up. 

“Aw, man. Are you saying you don’t believe that we wouldn’t have gotten together by now in every alternate universe, including the ones where someone else brought you the folder? I’m disappointed.” 

Seungkwan smacks his arm. 

“And you don’t think Yoon Jeonghan would badger you about it a little if it was him?”

Seungkwan just looks at him, absolutely soulless. It’s evident that he has not yet spent enough time in the Yoon-Boo household.

“We live together. He regularly tells me to stop singing.” 

Hansol nods slowly, reaching for the noraebang controller with a glint in his eye. “So are you telling me that if I queue ‘Nobody’ by the Wonder Girls right now, you won’t sing along with me?”

“ With you? Oh? Is Chwe Hansol gonna sing girl group songs with me? Give me the controller, there are so many songs we have to do!” 

He snatches the controller out of Hansol’s grip, and Hansol laughs brightly at Seungkwan’s sudden shift in mood. Seungkwan keeps his eyes focused on the keypad, but his cheeks grow wondrously warm. He likes the feeling of Hansol’s fond gaze on him, the hand on his thigh, the kiss that comes pressed to his pinkened cheek. 

“I guess I’ll queue whatever song you want me to use for the serenade, too. But it can’t be in English! And you have to take me seriously, because I’m gonna be serious about it.” 

Hansol nods solemnly. “I’d expect nothing less from a Boo Seungkwan performance. I know how you are.”

“Huh,” Seungkwan says slowly. “I guess you do.” He sets down the controller. Their queue of songs is still paused, and in the corner of the screen, the 90 minutes of singing time they purchased is shrinking rapidly. 

“You know what, Hansol Vernon Chwe?” Seungkwan says. He brings his and Hansol’s faces together by way of a guiding hand on the nape of Hansol’s neck. He taps an unknowable rhythm there. 

“What?” says Hansol, his eyes already darting down to Seungkwan’s mouth. 

“You’re a pretty good friend.” 

Before their kiss comes the sound of laughter, the softest air that makes way for their lips to brush, knowing that friend is just the half of it.