Work Text:
When Seonghwa comes home to his apartment, the silence is nearly overwhelming.
The whole day he was surrounded by noise.
On the tube, at work, at lunch and then on the tube again. Even the grocery store had been so, so incredibly noisy and, normally, Seonghwa barely notices it. He doesn’t have a problem with it, unlike some other people he knows. In fact, he rejoiced in it, sought it out and found it to be something that filled his life with color and life.
And when he comes home to an empty apartment, the lack of noise suddenly becomes the worst thing that has ever happened to him. There’s no TV running, no scratching, no shuffling. The apartment is in pristine condition because he only has to vacuum once a day, instead of multiple times to get rid of the cat hair. He turned all of his appliances off when he left this morning, because he likes to save energy. Mingi said it’s better for a bank account anyway and he doesn’t like to have anything playing in the background anyway. But right now he considers it, if only to fill the noiselessness emptiness inside the apartment.
His figurines are where they were this morning. Not knocked off the shelf, not slightly askew because someone brushed past them too close. The pillows on the couch are exactly as he left it.
Everything is exactly as he left it.
It’s a dream.
But the lack of noise.
It’s worse than the missing pictures on the walls, or the empty space where the cat trays used to sit. It’s worse than the fights they had in the beginning because– he’s not used to this.
He doesn’t like it.
His bag is placed exactly where it belongs, his coat goes on the hanger that’s way too large for the amount of coats Seonghwa owns, his lunchbox gets left next to the sink where he will clean it as he cooks dinner for himself.
His feet find the one pair of slippers easily and Seonghwa sighs.
He’s not someone who likes background noise. Never was. He likes noise that has purpose, that shows life. Got angry when it was playing randomly even when Minho wasn’t in the room because it felt like such a waste.
But he scrolls through his phone now as he hovers around in the living room/kitchen, connecting it to the speakers Hongjoong gifted him years ago – as in threw them out when he got proper ones. In the end, he doesn’t really know what he wants to listen to, so he simply choses a playlist Mingi shared with him ages ago and lets it fill the silence.
A long sigh fights its way out of his lungs and he stretches up, slowly, closes his eyes before nodding to himself.
A quick clean, then dinner, then– something productive to fill the rest of his day. He will figure it out. It’s been months. He will have to get used to this at some point.
from Kim Hongjoong (Mingi)
throwing out some clothes on saturday mingi said they might be especially interesting for you be there if you don’t have anything better to do
Won’t those be too short for me?
die
Saturday finds Seonghwa taking the tube to Hongjoong’s apartment. He has to change three times and one train gets delayed by five minutes which is just one of the twenty-six reasons Seonghwa doesn’t spend a lot of time with Mingi’s boyfriend.
It disrupts his routine but it’s a welcome change, maybe. Saturday used to be the day he’d grocery shop, deep clean the flat and then they would do something in the evening. That he now has something to do during the afternoon might just be his saving grace.
Despite their … rough friendship, Hongjoong is one of the few people who shares Seonghwa’s interest in specific fashion, so he took a bit of care with his clothes this morning. Everything is still acceptable, of course. He’s not about to show up in a crop-top and skirt over pants like those young idols his nieces are interested in. But there’s a flow to his clothes, something that can be explained with the heat and humidity, should someone ask. He didn’t put on any make-up because he hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that from melting off his face yet. But still, his hair sits the way it’s supposed to and his clothes make him feel good and no one gives him weird looks at him on the street.
Hongjoong and Mingi live in a pre-war building, so there’s no elevator and Seonghwa walks up the five flights of wonky stairs only to be greeted by an already open door with numerous boxes.
“-should be filming this, why are you so stupid!” Someone yells and Seonghwa stops in his tracks before he has even entered the apartment.
The door is wide open, the box holding it open is overflowing with “old” clothes and Seonghwa peeks slowly in. He’s not shy but– he’s not especially dressed for other company who might stare too much. Hongjoong didn’t tell him he asked other people.
The apartment is bigger than Seonghwa’s, with the door leading immediately to the living room and a separate kitchen. The couch, the table, everything is covered in clothes. Even the floor and the chairs and the TV. Hongjoong is standing in the middle of it all with a guy in front of him, holding a camera.
As Seonghwa looks closer, he sees Mingi sitting on the couch, clothes over his lap and staring at his phone. A fourth guy sits next to him, also looking at his phone with clothes over his shoulder.
“Deep cleaning your closet videos go viral!” the guy with the camera shrieks. “You could be gaining millions of views.”
Hongjoong eyebrows raise. Not in interest, but in annoyance. It makes his forehead a bit wrinkly and Seonghwa will not remind him of that, because he knows it’s something he’s self conscious about. Well, he won’t remind him in public, but he might send him a text about it.
When he carefully knocks against the door frame, all four people turn around to him.
“Hyung!” Mingi exclaims, but makes no attempt to get up from underneath the mountain of clothes. Just raises his hand and waves with a lazy smile. “Come to free us?”
“Obviously,” Seonghwa says. “How are you, Mingi-yah?”
He’s waiting to be introduced to their friends. He knows most of them, of course. From school friends of Mingi’s that he’s still in contact with to a colleague of Hongjoong that he has gotten close to and ended up dating. But these two– they look awfully young. A few years younger than Mingi surely, which makes them much younger than Hongjoong.
Where did they find them? And who are they?
Seonghwa doesn’t like to judge (too loudly) but have they tried opening their relationship up again? Don’t they remember how spectacularly they failed last time?
Behind Mingi and the guy on the couch, Hongjoong is fighting with the guy with the camera. Well, then, Seonghwa won’t interfere there. Instead, he takes his shoes off and walks himself into the living room, stepping over clothes that are already on the floor – he wonders when they’ve last cleaned.
“I’m well,” Mingi says. “You know how it is.”
And then Mingi stops talking and looks back down at his phone. The other guy blinks at him. Looks at Seonghwa. He’s cute, with a round face and hair falling into his big eyes. At some point after Seonghwa has perched himself on the lone chair, he sighs.
“Choi Jongho,” he nods and leans forward at the same time and Seonghwa takes his hand, fingers wrapping around his own loosely.
“Park Seonghwa.”
Choi Jongho aaahs silently, having possibly heard his name before. Or maybe not. Maybe Seonghwa just thinks about himself too much.
“Jung Wooyoung,” Jongho points over his shoulder. “It is nice to meet you, Seonghwa-nim.”
“Thank you, Jongho-nim. You are friends of Mingi’s or?”
Jongho nods and puts his phone away. He keeps glancing over his shoulder to where it doesn’t seem like Hongjoong and Jung Wooyoung will stop bickering. There’s no fear in his eyes, but his shoulders are drawn up a bit, seemingly a bit uncomfortable and unsure. Of what, Seonghwa isn’t sure until he sees the blush on Jongho’s cheeks and the way he immediately falls comfortably silent and lets himself phase into the background when Mingi or Seonghwa himself are speaking.
By the time Hongjoong stomps over to him and Wooyoung triumphantly looks at his camera, Seonghwa has found out that Jongho is Mingi’s physical therapist, that they’ve been working on his lower back a lot, that he’s not here to try on any of the clothes, but just to hang out and that he and Wooyoung seem to know each other.
“This is gonna do so well on Tiktok,” Wooyoung says and stops in front of the chair and blinks owlishly at Seonghwa. His hair is long-ish and dark, something petite about it even though he’s wearing the baggiest pants and hoodie Seonghwa has ever seen. Strong nose, golden skin. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi,” Seonghwa says. “Jung Wooyoung, right?” he says, just to be polite. “Jongho-nim introduced you while you were– busy. Park Seonghwha, I’m a friend of– Hongjoongie.” Kind of. Sometimes.
“Yaah,” Wooyoung turns around to Jongho who’s ignoring him. “Don’t listen to anything he says, hyung, he’s a lying bitch.”
Jongho raises one hand and gives him the middle finger, not even looking up from his phone. When Wooyoung turns around, he’s shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
“Hyung’s fine, right?”
“Um,” Seonghwa starts, unsure if he should be expecting a friend of Hongjoong and Mingi to call him something more respectful.
Wooyoung perches himself on the arm of the couch and puts the camera away. “Noona’s fine too, don’t worry, we’re good with anything.”
He blinks. For a moment, he doesn’t know what Wooyoung is saying. Then, his eyes widen and he raises his hands, shaking them from side to side.
“Oh no!” he exclaims and it’s not too loud, he hopes. There’s nothing wrong with any of that but– “Hyung’s fine, thank you, Wooyoung-ah.”
“Sorry,” Wooyoung grins. “Didn’t want to assume, but you never know with Hongjoongie’s friends.” A balled up piece of clothing hits Wooyoung in the face at the lack of honorific.
“Don’t worry about it,” Seonghwa says. He’s not offended. Not at all. He’s just a bit– Flustered. Seonghwa- noona . That’s not right, that’s just– making him a bit embarrassed. That’s where the tingling comes from. “So– uh– what do you do, Wooyooung-ah?”
Wooyoung grins widely and leans back, elbow digging onto the top of Jongho’s head who’s playing something on his phone and immediately elbows him into the side.
Seonghwa watches the two of them interact and sees the smile on Wooyoung’s face and somehow feels like he might have made a mistake in asking to know more about one Jung Wooyoung.
*
One moment, Seonghwa sits on a chair in Hongjoong’s living room, being not so gently coaxed into trying on some of Hongjoong’s clothes – most of which are indeed too short on him – with Wooyoung’s and occasionally Jongho’s commentary in the background and the next he’s getting texts from Jongho and running into Wooyoung when he’s getting his coffee in the morning.
Seonghwa isn’t an introvert. He likes people, he likes spending time with people, he enjoys the noise and the activities and being busy. But– there is something overwhelming about both of them together. One or the other, he could have integrated into his life easily, but both of them – Seonghwa doesn’t really know what’s going on.
They’re not even pushy about becoming his friends. Wooyoung is loud and he is touchy and Jongho can be loud but there’s a quiet reassurance to his words and touches. Both of them make Seonghwa want to be close to them.
So, yes, he does get up twenty minutes earlier to take his coffee at the cafe while chatting with Wooyoung. And he does re-download League, even though he’s really bad at it.
It gives him something to fill his days in the absence of three cats and one boyfriend.
At least, he’s self-aware enough to notice that he’s most likely only clinging to them because he’s lonelier than he was before. But who is he to deny himself this, when they don’t seem to mind?
Before he knows it, his days aren’t just filled with cleaning and building figurines to give his restless hands something to do. He knows how to cook, even though he hadn’t been the one who cooked mostly when they were still together, but he is good at it.
Not as good as Wooyoung, who sends him new recipes he’s trying and brings over food when Seonghwa says he just came home from an exhausting day at work. Of course, he doesn’t want to assume. Wooyoung is simply full of love, very affectionate, gifting and sharing everything that he has with those he considers close.
Developing some silly crush on a young man who is simply kind to Seonghwa is the stupidest thing he can do. But he is aware of his own mind, his own thoughts and weaknesses enough that he can see his feelings for what they are.
Knowing that Wooyoung is seeing someone doesn’t help much. After years of dating and living, Seonghwa doesn’t consider himself a homewrecker, but if someone taken goes after him, the blame doesn’t lie with him. A man being taken is no reason not to have these feelings.
A crush. A silly crush because Wooyoung is flirty and handsome and Seonghwa knows what to do. How to build barriers when Wooyoung presses kisses to his cheek and lies on top of him, teasing him and calling him noona with that grin that makes him feel like the earth might break open right underneath him.
So his walls are growing. For protection.
Jongho makes him feel better there. He is not someone for gifts or affection. He doesn’t make Seonghwa’s heart race because of his flirty remarks. His presence is solid as they walk over a market Seonghwa has heard about and wanted to visit for ages. He carries his things and they talk and they talk and it is so much safer than anything Seonghwa could have ever felt for Wooyoung. It is the quiet friendship that makes Seonghwa text him in the middle of the night or in between his lunch breaks.
Wooyoung’s friendship makes him weak, makes him yearn and covet.
In comparison, Jongho’s friendship is safe.
(Oh, how wrong he is about that.)
*
“So wait,” San interrupts him, when Seonghwa shares his worries with him.
Midnight has passed, Saturday slowly slipping into Sunday and they’re in San’s bathroom. Seonghwa can never handle the mess in his own space.
So, San is sitting on the toilet, a towel around his shoulders, ear cuffs on, as Seonghwa meticulously covers his hair in black dye. Covering the white streaks that have been plaguing him since he turned thirty-five. Not that Seonghwa can blame him for being vain in this regard. He himself hasn’t been able to raise his eyebrows properly in ten years. His feet just take him to an aesthetician a few times a year, where San is still too embarrassed about the thin white streaks to go to a proper hairdresser.
“Are they both dating someone?”
Seonghwa blinks. Carefully parts San’s hair and tugs more strands to the side. “I think so? Jongho has mentioned a partner, but–” he breaks off. “You know how these young gays are.”
San hums. His eyes are closed, his hands relaxed on his lap, holding the cup with the dye. “Is it that thing where they don’t do monogamy?”
Seonghwa hums in response, confirming it. Smiles at San’s disgusted grunt. It isn’t like he judges those who open their relationship. Often enough, he found himself with crushes in the past. But– he is a romantic. If there is someone, he wants them to belong to himself. It isn’t insecurity – he likes to tell himself – but simply… possessiveness. Something he doesn’t often feel, but sharing with someone? That isn’t for him.
“To each their own,” he says and San hums.
“I’m just being a hater.”
“You are a romantic. I think you’d like Jongho in that regard. He likes watching romance dramas as well.”
San opens one eye. “Uh-huh.”
“What?” His hair is taking quite nicely to it. There is minimal thinning as well, which he knows San is self-conscious about after he got too obsessed with gaining muscles fast in his younger years. Another thing Seonghwa has heard from Jongho. That everyone in gyms is doing that now, when fifteen years ago, Seonghwa didn’t know a single person other than San and people who made a living from their aesthetics.
“You want to fuck him, hyung?” San asks and Seonghwa immediately tugs on his hair. Not hard, he doesn’t want to hurt San after all. San, sweet and polite and being a little bitch in this moment simply smiles. “I mean you want to go on a romantic date with him?”
Seonghwa snorts. “I do not.”
“I mean apart from the ones you’ve already been on.”
“We haven’t been on dates,” he reminds San. “Jongho just joins me for errands.”
“And exhibition visits and fairs and everything else you dragged me to since you broke up.”
That’s not true. Or maybe it is. Maybe Seonghwa had relied on San a lot after everything, taking him on these things he knew he enjoyed.
“Do you feel neglected?” he coos. “Shall I make time for you.”
“Always.”
San doesn’t mention Jongho again and Seonghwa is glad. Because they are not dates. They are simply comfortable meetings with someone who is becoming a close friend. Someone who he wants to be around a lot and who doesn’t make him burn in places he shouldn’t burn.
*
“Seonghwa-noona,” Wooyoung calls and Seonghwa has to feel his own couch pillows under his flinching fingers before he realises that they’re in the sanctity of his own apartment. That there is no need to be scared, that no one would look at him strangely, assume and scoff and sneer.
Wooyoung is cooking in his kitchen and Seonghwa has his feet up on the couch, resting the ankle he twisted twenty years ago when he still had aspirations to be something different. It bothers him when the air turns humid, just like the pressure behind his eyes when the weather changes.
He must have fallen asleep and woken up to Wooyoung’s voice calling for him. And not just that. He opens his eyes, blearily blinking and finds Wooyoung much closer than he should be. Wants to skid backwards, but where to go but deeper into the upholstery?
Wooyoung’s crouching next to it. Faint smell of cologne and food clinging to him.
“Dinner is served, noona,” Wooyoung says. “But I can keep it warm if you need a bit more time.”
Noona. Seonghwa ignores the shiver that runs down his back and clears his throat. Raises one hand up to drive through his hair.
He hasn’t told Wooyoung not to call him that, no matter how … uncomfortable it makes him.
“Wooyoungie,” Seonghwa starts. “Maybe–” he breaks off. One of Wooyoung’s hands has reached out. Brushing a stray hair out of his eyes. His fingers on Seonghwa’s cheekbone, knuckles and nails and– Seonghwa swallows.
“Seonghwa-yah?” Wooyoung says. There’s a bit of a smirk there. Something– something that might even be worse than the noona . Something that pushes Seonghwa down deeper into the cushion without ever agreeing to it, holding him in place like a palm on his chest.
Wooyoung and his words.
Wooyoung and his face. Inching ever closer, eyes dropping and no– He is not a homewrecker. Twenty-two years of hooking up with men and he has never – knowingly – fucked someone who is dating someone. It’s not something he wants to do. It’s been done to him. He cannot.
Wooyoung’s fingertips on his chin, his jawline and he should move. He should– He– Wooyoung looks so hungry.
A phone rings.
Fingertips, pressing against his skin. Seonghwa’s eyes flickering around. It’s not his, it doesn’t sound like his–
“Hey jagi-yah,” Wooyoung says into his own phone. Eyes not leaving Seonghwa.
Jagi-yah. His boyfriend. His partner. His– Seonghwa feels cold suddenly. Wants to sit up, to flee his own apartmen–
“Yeah I’m with him right now,” Wooyoung says. Fingers still on him and Seonghwa doesn’t know what to do. That Wooyoung doesn’t hide their meeting here can only mean a couple of things. Most of which Seonghwa doesn’t want to think about. Wooyoung’s mouth pulls into a smile and he rolls his eyes. “Yeah because I’d answer the phone if we were fucking.”
Seonghwa flinches. Wooyoung rolls his eyes as if to say Can you believe this guy?
“Of course, I wouldn’t ignore you even if I was– hmm– yeah– yes–”
Wooyoung gets up.
Hands leaving him, presence receding and Seonghwa feels surrounded by emptiness suddenly. Pressure gone, able to move. Swings his legs off the couch, feet touching the floor and stares at Wooyoung as he paces through the room, checking on the food as Seonghwa watches him over the back of the couch-
“Yeah- love you.” Then a moment of silence. “Say it back. Say it back!” Wooyoung yells into the phone. Stares at it. “Bitch.”
Seonghwa can do nothing, but stare at him.
Talking to his boyfriend about Seonghwa in Seonghwa’s apartment while he– while they–
“Sorry for that,” he says and Seonghwa just looks at him. Fingers digging into the cushion again. “He’s needy, sometimes.”
“What– what did you say about– me?” Us , hangs in the air. What must Wooyoung have told his boyfriend about Seonghwa, about his intentions here? Is he jealous? Is he right to be jealous?
“That I’m wooing you with my cooking, as usual.” Wooyoung sends off a quick text and then pockets the phone. Comes closer and Seonghwa immediately leans back a little, doesn’t know what to say, think or feel. “He asked if we were having sex.”
“Which we weren’t.”
Yet. That too hangs in the air like a hammer.
Wooyoung hums. Crouches down. Closer.
“And we won’t,” Seonghwa adds.
Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. Bobs back and forth on the balls of his feet, all coy in a way he isn’t as he looks at him.
“Wooyoung-ah–”
“He doesn’t mind,” Wooyoung says. “Just wants to know when it happens. He’s my person, but sometimes there’s a connection, you know?”
Seonghwa does not know.
Connection, he understands. Sparks, he understands. Crushes, yes. But acting on them?
“What does he not mind, Wooyoung-ah?” Seonghwa asks. “What are you doing that he might not mind?”
For the first time since Seonghwa has known him, Wooyoung seems to be lost for words. Draws his shoulders up, ducks his head, the faintest of blushes settling onto his strong nose.
“I mean– hyung,” and then when Seonghwa just looks at him, unrelenting for once in his life, Wooyoung leans forward, corner of his mouth tugging up, fingertips on Seonghwa’s knees. “ Noona .”
Calculated. Waiting for what it does to Seonghwa. And it does. Make him a bit gooey. Make him forget that he would just like to know what’s going on.
“You know I like you, hyung,” Wooyoung says. “So, I wanna fuck you, yeah.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
He doesn’t know what it makes him feel. That he’s desirable enough to fuck, but not to date. But then– Wooyoung is already in a committed relationship. Why would he want that from him? Why is this even the thing he focuses on, after everything else? Dating isn’t really something he has ever thought about, when it came to Wooyoung. Maybe, when it comes to Jon–
“Ah,” Seonghwa starts. Rises and looks down on Wooyoung for a moment. “What did you say you made for dinner?”
Wooyoung immediately follows suit. Doesn’t breach the topic again.
Doesn’t say anything about it the whole evening. Doesn’t even flirt with him. Not hurt, just– contemplative, it seems.
Close and kind.
*
🥰
YOU BITCH
ㅋㅋㅋ
HE KNOWS AND HE SHUT DOWN
I HAD HIM THERE
I WAS GONNA SCORE
oh no poor you
I THOUGHT SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED
LIKE YOU DIED OR SOMETHING
i mean a little death was involved for me
skill issue on your part
🖕
*
“What do you know about Wooyoungie’s boyfriend?” Seonghwa asks Jongho when they next see each other.
It might be a bad idea. They’re friends. Jongho might take it the wrong way, Seonghwa asking after the boyfriend. But then– is there a wrong way when Wooyoung has said– what he wants?
They’re at some local festival that Jongho had actually invited him to. There’s food and some kind of attraction but they had both been honest in their approach. They were here for the food. Trying different things together as to not stuff their stomachs too much, even though they were both more than capable to eat themselves through the festival.
The river behind the stalls, the sizzling of grills and the scent of something seafood-ish hitting his nose, Seonghwa keeps close to Jongho.
Jongho who is just nice. Kind. Steadfast. Solid. Who didn’t scare him with his openness and sex-appeal and who isn’t emotionally available enough that Seonghwa can ever dream of anything happening there.
“Oh, he’s so cool, hyung,” Jongho says, eyeing something being deep fried behind a glass-container. “Really handsome, smart, accomplished, funny–” He tilts his head. “Gives great head. In general, really good in bed. Wooyoung is so lucky to have him, he’s such a catch.”
Seonghwa blinks, unaccustomed to the openness with which Jongho talks about this– about the boyfriend of his good friend. As if– “Have you– I mean– I thought you had a boyfriend, Jongho-yah?”
Not him as well?
“Oh,” Jongho steps forward. “You know how it is.”
No, Seonghwa does not know how it is. He doesn’t understand it. But– he doesn’t want to judge them. This– whatever it is must work for both of their relationships. Who is he to cast judgment onto them where they can see it? They didn’t ask for his opinion, after all. He promised long ago not to be like the elders around him, always making him feel like he had to bear their harsh opinions on everything that makes him him .
“Ah,” Seonghwa lets out. And sits – or stands – with the knowledge that both of these young men, both of these figures in his life, are like this. Open, in their love. Available? But to whom.
Not to him, surely.
He’s not looking, after all.
And Jongho isn’t even interested in him.
*
to sanie ❤️
You were right? They’re both open.
Remember how to douche, hyung?
SAN-AH
*
“Okay, so I don’t like this,” Wooyoung says when he appears in Seonghwa’s doorway. Seonghwa isn’t up to having visitors right now, if he is being completely honest with himself.
Work had been difficult. His mother had called him on his break, demanding for him to come home and visit them next week, as if he could just drop work and his social life like that. Not that his social life is that important or filled. Inbetween seeing San and Mingi and– somehow Wooyoung and Jongho, he does have coworkers with whom he hangs out occasionally, and of course work itself.
Most importantly, Seonghwa needs time to do his cleaning. Needs to scrub the floor and appliances, dust everything that isn’t even dusty yet because how else can he exist if it’s not completely under his control?
That’s how Wooyoung finds him. Gloves on, knees dusty from where he tried to clean under the couch, hair messy, as he opens the door to have him rush in and take up empty space that Seonghwa cannot dare to hope he might ever fill.
He makes a motion to dump all his belongings – a backpack, a large bag, his jacket and shoes – in the entrance but stops himself when he must see the look on Seonghwa’s face. Instead he hangs everything up carefully and then steps into Seonghwa’s space, bag dangling from his elbow.
“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa says, when Wooyoung is too close.
“I don’t like this,” Wooyoung repeats. “I didn’t mean to scare you with– me being me.”
Seonghwa blinks at him. Everything about him smells faintly of cleaning supplies, sharp in the nose and comforting to him but– it also feels wrong in this moment. Wooyoung is so close and maybe the sharp smell is something that can ground him but–
“I–” he stops. “Let me–” He turns away. Slips the gloves off and for a slip-second, wants to throw them somewhere instead of putting them in their assigned place. That one wins in the end and Seonghwa quickly cleans up after himself, putting everything away.
That, in itself, might be the biggest concession yet. That Wooyoung does nothing else. but enter his space, insert himself into an evening of cleaning and Seonghwa drops it all for him. He wonders if Wooyoung knows.
When he throws a look over his shoulder and sees Woyooung hovering in the living room he thinks he might. Thinks that maybe he’s too obvious. But then he was never good at hiding his feelings. Loves too openly.
Not that he– not that this is–
“I don’t want you to think I just want to fuck you,” Wooyoung says. “You’re really lit and I wanna hang out. And I know I can come on too strong.”
“Oh, Wooyou–”
“So,” Wooyoung interrupts him kindly. “I brought a gift. Or a– bribe, if you want so.” He shakes his arm and the bag rattles on his elbow.
“A gift?” Seonghwa echoes and Wooyoung seems suddenly a bit sheepish. Too small in the already small living room. One hand at the back of his neck.
“Well, I was at a shoot today,” he explains. “Friend of mine walked some clothes for a brand by a friend, you know how it is.”
Seonghwa does not indeed know how it is, but he still listens to Wooyoung prattle on.
“I know you like to pretend that you don’t like it but I know you do, so–” Wooyoung’s hand goes into his bag. Something shifts inside, fabric. Clothes? Obviously, that’s what he said after all. He pulls his hand bag. Shifts the bag from his elbow to his wrist to his palm. Holds it out.
“You don’t have to put it on, obviously. And if you hate it, that’s fine as well.”
The bag dangles between them.
Seonghwa reaches for it, slowly. Doesn’t know what might be inside. With the way he’s phrasing it, how cautious he is. He peeks inside. Black. Lots of fabric.
Takes it out and puts the bag away, hanging it over the back of a chair, where it won’t fall on the floor and can be taken away easily.
“Sit, please,” Seonghwa says. Usually, he doesn’t have to say it twice. Wooyoung takes up space. Easily, readily, without it ever feeling like a burden. But right now– right now he seems so unsure of himself. “I’ll–”
He motions to the bundle he now holds in his hands. Moves away, slowly.
Doesn’t quite understand why this feels different. He’s not– he doesn’t want Wooyoung. Not like that. Not like this.
And yet– something feels wrong.
Different.
Changed.
Why does Wooyoung care? Why did he come here? What’s it to him if he came on too strong? It’s not like Seonghwa had avoided him afterwards. Maybe he should have, he thinks as he steps into his bedroom, leaving the door ajar. Maybe he should have put some space between the two of them because that’s the only thing that a smart person would do. Has Seonghwa ever been smart when it came to men, though?
The bundle of fabric – Wooyoung’s gift, his bribe – is a skirt. Thick and black, with two slits on the side.
“You wear it over pants,” Wooyoung calls from the living room. “I mean you can wear it without, I guess but that was the intended use for it.”
Over pants. With thick boots, Seonghwa thinks, holding the skirt to his waist.
“It would fit you either way,” Wooyoung says from the door.
Seonnghwa hadn’t heard him get closer, thought he sat down to wait for the verdict. He’s never been in Seonghwa’s bedroom and for a moment, panic rises up within him. There is no reason for it, of course. His bedroom is spotless. Nothing but clean spaces with minimal decoration apart from the figurines he keeps in glass shelves, the same as the ones in his living room.
The mirror in front of which Seonghwa stands might be the most opulent thing in the whole room and he can see Wooyoung leaning in the door now. Arms crossed. Nonchalant, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
But his eyes drop, watching Seonghwa in the mirror. Something– the thing that changes. The thing that is different between them.
Seonghwa can’t bear to look at him any longer. Looks at himself in the mirror again. The flowing of the skirt. It’s long, reaching his mid-calves. Or it would, if he put it on.
“It’s beautiful,” he says. His voice gets rough at the end a little bit. Something he can’t quite stop. At least it doesn’t break.
But he’s waiting. With bated breath, one might even say. For Wooyoung to do something because Seonghwa could never– Not like this. Not–
“Cool,” Wooyoung says. “You’ll look way better in it than Sangie.”
And then he turns around and moves back to the living room, leaving Seonghwa standing there, not staring at the empty space he left behind but– still somehow breathless.
*
🥰
is there anything worse than playing hard to get urgh
it’s your favourite thing to do?
yeah but i want him
so much you don’t understand
oh i do
he’s not reacting?
not sure :(
i think it’s time to bring out the big guns jagiyah
your wish is my command
*
Jongho is telling him the most fascinating story of his time as a college athlete. Wait, that’s not true. He was actually scouted long before that, in middle school. So young that he had to drop out of school. Not– not that. That he–
Seonghwa blinks. It’s so warm today. Sweltering. Humid. Wet. Dripping. Wet.
Jongho isn’t a guy who wears just one layer. He’s not. Really not. Because that would mean his shirt would cling to his body. His biceps. His pecs.
He’s a guy who put the university entrance exam off to train and play, Seonghwa got that. The story is important.
Jongho shifts the bags and water container he’s carrying. Up onto his shoulder, arms straining.
“Thanks for helping me with this,” Jongho says for the third time since Seonghwa met him at the entrance to the metro after agreeing to help him carry things from work home. Why Seonghwa, of all people, he’s not sure. Jongho must have stronger friends who could carry more than two mildly heavy bags.
“It’s no problem,” Seonghwa says again and looks away from the sleeve of Jongho’s shirt slowly rolling up under the strain. “You were saying something about injuring yourself during a game?” he tries to take the conversation back to Jongho. To give him something to focus on so that he doesn’t get caught drooling.
He’s never been to Jongho’s apartment before. Does he live with his boyfriend? He doesn’t know. Probably. What young person can afford living alone in this economy, after all?
The building is pre-war, the stairs are wonky in a way that cannot be in line with current safety guidelines and the keypad looks so old Seonghwa thinks it might be as old as him. Jongho has to nudge his shoulder against the door twice before it opens.
“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess,” he says. “I know you like it cleaner.”
“Oh, it’s no problem,” Seonghwa says and decides not to look at anything too closely. What he doesn’t see, feel or smell can’t hurt him after all. Jongho drops his container and his heavy bag onto the floor.
“Let me,” he says and comes closer, taking Seonghwa’s less heavier bags. “Thank you, do you want something to drink, hyung?”
Seonghwa shakes his head, but then Jongho already has his head in the fridge, getting out something carbonated and cold. A sweet reprieve of the stupid hot summer day.
“I’ll take a shower quickly, please make yourself feel at home.”
And then Jongho is gone through another door and Seonghwa stands there, in the middle of the one room that is kitchen and living room and entrance at the same time.
Some part of him thinks about leaving. Or– about sitting down somewhere and waiting for Jongho, the way he probably should. It isn’t kind to sneak around and look in places he isn’t supposed to look because he wasn’t invited to do so. If Jongho weren’t here, it would be different. He could look around more easily, after all. But– every second he could come back.
Still, Seonghwa gives the apartment a cursory look. The kitchen is clean, although tiny and old. There’s a table and a cupboard wedged against the wall, giving additional counter space. The chairs are right at the table, in front of the rice cooker and a mountain of jars. They are also mismatched. As is the rest of the flat. A couch that has seen better days and clashes horribly with the ratty carpet in front of it. The table is banged up and one leg has been fixed with duct tape. The TV is giant though, the PS5 has a dedicated space as well. There isn’t a lot of other stuff that fits into the living room/kitchen. Sparsely decorated walls. A few pictures here and there.
Seonghwa steps closer to those, wanting to see more of Jongho’s life. Maybe even his boyfriend. He must live here as well, mustn’t he? Jongho has mentioned something like that in the past.
There are friends there. Family, from the looks of it. He finds Mingi and Wooyoung and some other people who Seonghwa might have heard about, some–
“-ung?” a voice calls behind him. “Did you hear me?”
Seonghwa whirls around. Caught in the act. Walking around the flat, looking at things that he hasn’t been invited to look at and– He nearly takes a step back.
The door to the bathroom is half open. There’s no steam coming out but– it does feel like that all of sudden. Jongho’s wearing shorts. Not unusual, especially not during a day like this. He might even have worn shorts earlier, right? His hair is dripping. Which Seonghwa only notices because it’s dripping onto his bare shoulders.
Because that is what he is looking at. Bare shoulders. Bare skin. Chest, stomach, a little bit of hair under his navel. Jongho is strong, from years of training, he’s – solid. Seonghwa knew that, he thinks. He knew that Jongho isn’t only solid in his personality but also in– in his body. It’s just. He’s never.
“Hyung, you alright?” Jongho asks. His mouth is open, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Seonghwa isn’t quite sure how he notices that because he cannot focus on Jongho’s face, but he does. It’s right there.
Jongho invited him into his home – that he shares with his boyfriend! – and Seonghwa is here being weird. So weird. He’s so old. So much older. Taller as Jongho, as well, he notices. Because there’s not a lot of space between them. Toes nearly touching, Seonghwa raises his eyes permanently, unwilling to stare at all the displayed skin when it’s this close. When it’s this obvious.
“Hi,” Jongho says. And then, in a tone that Seonghwa is used to from Wooyoung. “Remembered that I’m here?”
Heat explodes in his cheeks. He flinches, takes a step back, right into the wall. But there’s no accusation in Jongho’s eyes. No judgment. Just– curiosity and– Seonghwa narrows his eyes.
“It’s okay, hyung, you can think I’m hot,” he says. And then, because sometimes Seonghwa forgets he’s a little shit. “You do think I’m hot, right?”
“Is that what that’s about?” he asks. “You want to– you do this,” he motions at Jongho’s chest and he wants to be aloof but his eyes drop and he stops talking for a good twenty seconds. “Because you want me to praise you?”
In a world where Seonghwa was different – more authoritative, firm, compensating for his small body like some other people – where he was less of a push-over it might have been the start of a bit of play, the kind that he never allows himself to engage in. But Seonghwa isn’t like that, doesn’t enjoy these things. Doesn’t enjoy doing these things to others, is the thing.
So it comes out– questioning. Asking.
Does Jongho need him to behave in a certain way? Is that what he wants from him right now?
“Do you,” Jongho comes closer. Seonghwa might have called him confident if it weren’t for the fact that there’s a slighted blush on his cheeks, that his fingers are fidgeting in the air, betraying the casual air with which he asks, “think I’m hot, hyung?” And then, because someone really wants Seonghwa to die, he says. “Noona thinks I’m hot, right?”
Seonghwa wraps his arms around himself. Just for a second.
How could he. How could Jongho know this? How could he– did Wooyoung? But then his arms leave his own elbows. One hanging loosely, the other one reaching for– Stopping right in front of Jongho’s chest, strong and solid and–
Jongho follows the movement with a smile, relief on his face.
And then he kisses him.
Just like that. Jongho, who isn’t interested, Jongho who is just– exactly the kind of thing Seonghwa needs, who doesn’t make him feel as hot and bothered as Wooyoung does, who’s just– right here, with his lips on Seonghwa’s, his tongue in his mouth, one hand on his hip, the other on his face.
Something digs into his back, the edges of the photographs, some of them crumbling maybe and Seonghwa should care about that, about ruining them but– Jongho’s lips are so soft.
He’s not as dominating as Seonghwa would have expected – hoped for – instead he guides. Moves Seonghwa, invites him to cling to him, tilt his head as he kisses over his cheek, his neck, his–
Oh, Seonghwa shouldn’t do this. Jongho has a boyfriend, doesn’t he? Albeit– one who he’s open with.
But does he want to be a one night stand? (No)
Does he want to sleep with a friend? (Yes)
Should he really do this? (Probably not)
Succumb do this? (Maybe)
“Jongho-yah,” Seonghwa says. Somehow one of his hands has found its way to Jongho’s ass, nails digging into the fabric. “We should probably stop.”
“Sure,” Jongho’s breath is wet against his neck. One hand is under his shirt. “Let’s stop.”
Five minutes later, Jongho’s other hand is playing with his waistband, dipping into his pants, feeling him. He’s hard, from a little bit of kissing, and frottage, and everything else that shouldn’t get him so hot at this age.
It’s also the exact moment Wooyoung walks in.
Seonghwa doesn’t notice, not at the beginning.
Beeping of the keypad, shoes being kicked off.
A backpack being thrown onto the floor, half-haphazardly in a way that Seonghwa would never allow in his own home. It’s the only noise Wooyoung makes in this moment, because unlike Seonghwa, he notices them.
Doesn’t say a thing.
Doesn’t move, apart from leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets.
Seonghwa is completely oblivious to his presence. Thinks about throwing a leg around Jongho’s hips, rutting against each other like they’re teenagers hiding from their parents. He’s thick against Seonghwa, hard and hot and if it weren’t for the fact that Seonghwa shouldn’t be doing this at all, he might even do the one thing he wants most.
His knees on the floor, jaw aching, tingle at his scalp from a hand fisted in the strands.
But at the back of his mind, he knows this is wrong. Knows that he shouldn’t, that Jongho has someone, that–
Jongho bites into his clavicle and Seonghwa throws his head back, opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. Blinks the shudder at the cobwebs away and turns his head and–
Sees Wooyoung.
Leaning against the doorframe lazily, the way he positioned himself when he saw Jongho making Seonghwa mewl with his hand at his cock. There’s a smile on his face. Raised eyebrows. Even through his oversized pants, Seonghwa can see him–
He screams.
Pushes Jongho away.
“Noona,” Jongho scolds carefully. His eyes don’t move away from Seonghwa. Big blown dark eyes that make Seonghwa drown inside of them and he’s looking at him and he has a partner and his partner lives with him and– “Stop being a creeper, jagiyah.”
Wooyoung comes closer, socked feet on the floor and Seonghwa’s back is still pressed against the kitchen cupboard and Wooyoung– must live here, Wooyoung– his mind isn’t online, all of the blood gone, but even like this he is able to understand what must be the truth.
Jagiyah .
“Are you– are you two–” His voice is shrill, too shrill to be taken seriously.
Wooyoung is too close.
Coming up right behind Jongho, pressing a kiss to his neck, right where Seonghwa might have– oh dear .
“Sorry, noona–”
“Don’t fucking noona me,” Seonghwa snaps.
His hands are still against Jongho’s chest. It’s such a good chest. The right amount of muscle and jiggle to dig his nails in as he–
“What–”
He doesn’t know what to ask. He doesn’t know what to think. Wanting to duck out from his place caged against the cupboard and never wanting to leave because– it’s been so long and it’s been so good and Jongho is so good. Wooyoung himself–
And now both of them ?
It’s not that hard to figure out what is going on.
They’re dating, long-term partners. Not necessarily exclusive. All of that. Seonghwa doesn’t vibe with it, but he understands it.
But– both of them going after him?
Little old him?
And Seonghwa– he’s not insecure– no that’s not right. He is insecure. About himself. About being a partner. Being a boyfriend. His insecurity, his lack of self-worth, those had been things Minho had thrown at him whenever they had fought, viciously and mockingly and then– when they had split, with kindness and hope that Seonghwa might overcome them.
And here he is. Flattered because not one, but two young men had been— interested in him on their own.
Pursued him even.
But it hadn’t been on their own, had it?
And it crashes onto him.
The shame, the–
“Is this a game?” he asks and is proud of himself because his voice doesn’t shake. Nearly expected tears to come up, even after thirty years and everyone from teachers to parents to partners laughing about how emotional he gets.
“Of course no–” Jongho starts, big eyes so earnest and Seonghwa– with his brain not fully online but enough to realise this now, figures out that where Wooyoung uses seduction to turn a situation to his advantage, Jongho too relies on his given attributes and biggest assets.
“It can be–” Wooyoung interjects and Seonghwa turns his head at him, blinking.
“Hyung!”
“What, we could play it out– I’m the unassuming boyfriend and you’re cheat–”
“Hyung,” Jongho insists. Looks at Seonghwa. Back to Wooyoung. Silent communication in a way that Seonghwa should have noticed sooner. How did he never notice them doing that before. Being so in sync, knowing what the other wants and thinks?
Because they almost never meet with him together, some part of him supplies. Probably deliberately.
“You’re not a game for us, hyung,” Jongho says and Wooyoung opens his mouth. “Oh yeah, it’s not you who’s the game. I just thought we, the three of us–” Jongho elbows him into the side. “Shut the fuck up, you’re not making this better–”
He turns to Seonghwa again and Seonghwa– if he weren’t feeling so– much right now, he might have even found this funny.
“We thought approaching you on our own might work better because we can be a bit– much .”
Wooyoung snorts. Wiggles his hand in the air. A bit.
“But if you knew we both had a boyfriend–”
“So it wasn’t about who got– there first.”
Silence.
Ah. There it is.
The crux of it all. The betrayal. The game that was being played after all.
“Ah,” Seonghwa says. “Why?”
Why go through the effort? They are young and handsome and charming and guys everywhere must be interested in them, right? Why would they care about Seonghwa? Over ten years their senior, stuck in an exhausting job, worrying about the laugh lines around his eyes and bringing over three decades of baggage with him.
“I mean you’re cool and kind and hot,” Jongho starts. “We like your vibes and you make me want to be a better–”
“I am just really into MILFs,” Wooyoung interjects.
Jongho groans.
Seonghwa blinks, fingers still digging into Jongho’s chest.
*
“So you walked out and told them you never want to see them again,” San asks when Seonghwa finishes telling his story.
Seonghwa blinks. Clears his throat. Takes a sip of his drink, leaning forward, so he doesn’t look at San. Because San looks– nearly affronted on Seonghwa’s behalf. And Seonghwa is too.
He’s not a wet blanket.
They can’t walk over him at all.
But–
“I did go home at some point, yes,” he settles on and San takes his upper lip into his mouth. Closes his eyes, counts silently to ten and then shakes his head. The way his own father always did when San brought one of his good guy friends home – Seonghwa’s seen it, because he’s been one of those friends at some point when they were young.
It’s utter disappointment.
The where did I go wrong to be subjected to this kind of disappointment.
“Was the dick good at least?” he asks, quietly because they are in a busy coffee shop. Not that anyone could hear them over the noise of people doing their Zoom meetings in the middle of the day with other customers around.
He shrugs. Nods. Presses his teeth together, so he doesn’t have to smile too hard.
“Jesus christ,” San says and puts his face in his hands.
And then, because San is nothing but a supportive friend and a fellow experienced bottom. “At the same time?”
Seonghwa shrugs. Feels himself blush, despite over twenty years of sexual experiences.
Still, this had been– new.
“You go, girl,” San says. A little bit weak and sounding unsure of what he’s congratulating him exactly. Which is ridiculous. Of the two of them, San has always been the one who has found himself in the most ridiculous situations. He had accidentally attended three orgies before he turned thirty, after all.
“So you’re gonna see them again, hyung? Or– do you feel betrayed and rightfully hurt and they need to grovel for the forgiveness you’re owed?”
“San-ah,” Seonghwa says, carefully scolding. San isn’t wrong.
He feels– wronged. Ignored it for those precious moments – hours – when they were, well, otherwise engaged with each other, but the second post-orgasm clarity hit him, he realised that he still felt– wrong.
Lied to. Betrayed.
Still doesn’t quite understand what they were getting out of it apart from Seonghwa’s humiliation. Apart from the accomplishment of getting him into bed.
“I think I will see them again. I need to–” he raises his hand when San gives him a look. “I want to know why. The real reasons. I am owed that much.”
He can stand up to someone. Even if they made him feel like Jongho and Wooyoung did– do. Especially when they make him feel like that. Letting this– thing slip through his fingers… no, he doesn’t want to do that.
He does need to give them a piece of his mind, though.
*
JWY created the groupchat 🥰🥰🥰
JWY invited you to the groupchat 🥰🥰🥰
You and 1 other person accepted an invitation to the groupchat 🥰🥰🥰
🥰🥰🥰
Park Seong Hwa
I’d like to speak to you both. Tomorrow after work works I assume?
JWY
self employed life noona
Jongho
i have a consultation until 7:30. 8:30 maybe? So i can take a shower
Park Seong Hwa
that works for me
JWY
❤️
*
Inviting them to his home might not have been the best idea, Seonghwa realises. Especially not without telling them what the reason is.
The thought doesn’t come to him while he sends the message in a newly created group chat, nor while he cleans and makes sure his apartment looks exactly like he needs it to look. In his mind, there is no reason for this to be anything but a conversation about Wooyoung’s and Jongho’s poor seduction or whatever this was supposed to be manners.
It’s obvious that they need to speak now. That there are issues about all of this that need to be addressed. That’s why Seonghwa changed his outfit four times, dusted the table more times than he can count and then spent an hour waiting for the two of them to arrive.
In his mind, they would arrive separately and then whoever was early would have to make horrible smalltalk with Seonghwa as if they aren’t friends and have never spent any time together at all. You know, very reasonable things.
What he didn’t expect is to open the door at 8:28 to Jongho carrying food in containers standing behind Wooyoung who pushes inside Seonghwa’s apartment and immediately kisses him.
Later on, he’ll say that he only kisses back because Wooyoung surprised him so much. It has of course nothing to do with how good it feels, with how much it reminds him of two days ago when Wooyoung pushes his ankles up to his knees, Jongho’s fat balls slapping against his face.
It has nothing to do with the fact that they somehow make him a little bit stupid.
“W-Wait,” Seonghwa says when he manages to pull himself away from Wooyoung. Jongho’s gone, why is Jongho gone?
When he turns around he sees him working around in the kitchen – already making Seonghwa feel squeezy – and getting out bowls and plates and chopsticks.
“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa says, when he feels Wooyoung pawing at him. “Stop, we need to talk.”
Wooyoung tilts his head at him. Genuine confusion on his face. His eyes are a bit blown, his lips swollen and Seonghwa needs to put his foot down and get a grip.
“Shall we eat first, hyung?” Jongho calls from the kitchen and Seonghwa shakes his head. As far as he could see from the condensation on the containers the food isn’t hot at the moment – not leaving any stains on his kitchen – so there’s no rush. And who knows if there will still be food once they’re done talking.
“Let’s–” he motions to the table and the couch. “I need to– This is important.”
They both look at one another. That silent communication thing once again but this time Seonghwa doesn’t have to be the one dating them to understand what is going on there. He can tell. He can see the worry.
The kind of worry he didn’t expect, to be quite honest. Why would they be worried after all.
But then, why would they do anything? All of the things they did, Seonghwa contemplates, as he wrings his hand sitting on the couch in between them, don’t make a lot of sense to them.
They follow him, sitting on either side of him, their knees digging into his. Wooyoung’s leg is jiggling up and down, seemingly unable to control himself. He’s picking on his nails and Seonghwa puts his hand down onto his, stopping him.
Jongho is as still as a statue. His face completely neutral, but his eyes, his eyes are always the most expressive thing about him and they immediately tell him that Jongho thinks something is really wrong.
“I wanted to say,” Seonghwa starts and the panic in Wooyoung’s face becomes bigger. “That I enjoyed myself a lot the other day.”
He expects both of them to say something. Joke about how of course that’s the case, look at them and their skill, but— No one says a single thing. They just stare at him. Wide eyed.
“But—”
“Here it comes,” Wooyoung says and Jongho takes a big breath.
Seonghwa isn’t sure that they’re expecting what he’s about to say, but he didn’t expect anything about them, so they do not get to be coddled right now.
“I feel very stupid. You didn’t lie to me but you omitted the truth, when you both got close to me without telling me you were dating each other. I don’t understand why and it isn’t a good feeling.” He clears his throat. “So I would like an explanation on why you didn’t just— talk to me. Communicate your feelings and your intentions.”
“We don’t think you’re stupid, hyung,” Jongho says and Seonghwa gives him a smile.
“Thank you, Jongho-yah.”
Jongho beams at that. Liking praise, the same way Seonghwa does. That he too learnt during their little… escapade together.
“I mean we couldn’t approach you with it,” Wooyoung says. Shrugs. Some part of him sounds nearly apologetic, but at the same time. There’s that kind of defiance in Wooyoung. The— way he might feel bad, but at the same time, doesn’t quite apologise for this slight he has done against Seonghwa. “I know it wasn’t— I mean I understand why you feel that way but you’re so—” he motions to Seonghwa’s body.
Seonghwa looks down on himself. Clean clothes, everything in place. What exactly Wooyoung might mean, he doesn’t quite understand.
“And you would have run for the hills.”
“I—” He would have. He doesn’t like this whole polyamory thing. That’s not quite true. He just— he feels too possessive of his partners to let them be with someone else. Well— looking at Wooyoung and Jongho now. He wouldn’t mind if they were with each other just not— he wants them to be his. Theirs maybe, if that is something that’s on the table.
Some part inside his mind that sounds suspiciously like Hongjoong cackling is going Holy shit, did I just understand the concept of polyamorous relationships?
“You could have still told me. Or told me you were dating each other.”
Wooyoung looks at him. Jongho doesn’t seem to be too comfortable taking initiative in this but then he knows that Wooyoung has always been better with words. The little sweet talker. And he knows it too.
“Once again, you would have said no.”
“And you should have had the choice,” Jongho interrupts. “What?” he holds up his hands defensively at Wooyoung’s look. “We said it was unvibey, not telling him.”
Seonghwa blinks at unvibey and hopes he never ends up sounding like that.
“It was fun, sabotaging each other but— it makes sense if hyung is uncomfortable and doesn’t want to be around us anymore.”
Ah, sweet Jongho.
Wooyoung crosses his arms in front of his chest for a moment. Then lets go. Sighs.
“I mean— yeah. Maybe we could have handled that better.” He turns to Seonghwa, lets his arms fall. “I’ve never picked up a hot older girl, maybe we should have been nicer.”
And then, even though Seonghwa wouldn’t have expected it, he says “I’m sorry.”
And isn’t that the thing that everyone wants to hear?
“Yeah, I’m also sorry. We weren’t really thinking.”
“Not with your head at least,” Seonghwa remarks and Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows. Skids a little bit closer on the couch.
“I can show you what I was thinking—” Next to Seonghwa, Jongho lets out a groan, interrupting him.
“Shut up, we were all thinking it!” Wooyoung snaps, but he’s not angry. They’re just bickering.
Seonghwa shakes his head. But he puts a hand on Wooyoung’s and then holds the other out. Sits there, with the two of them.
“So what exactly is this?” he asks because he needs to know. He doesn’t know if he can handle being something they fill the time with. But he also doesn’t know if dating both of them is something that he can handle at this point in his life — or ever.
“Well it’s us,” Wooyoung says. “And you. Us and you. We. We’ll figure it out.”
That sounds nice.
“For now we should blow your back out.”
Seonghwa chokes.
Jongho whines. “I thought we were gonna eat!” Wooyoung opens his mouth and he immediately adds, “The food you brought. Not Seonghwa-noona’s dick—”
“Or ass.”
“Why—” Seonghwa interrupts before they can continue squabbling. “Don’t we eat what Wooyoungie so graciously provided for us.”
“And then we fuck you until you squirm because I know you like it deep—”
Seonghwa puts his head in his hands and lets out a groan. Doesn’t mention anything about eating and then having sex being a possible– problem.
Knows exactly what Jongho feels when facing the storm that is Jung Wooyoung.
Yet, when he looks back at Jongho, there’s fondness and humor on his face. Looking not only at Wooyoung but— at Seonghwa as well.
And well, Seonghwa can complain and scold them all he wants.
Who is he to say no to food and getting fucked six ways to sunday as long as his hip flexors can handle it?