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“Relax, Jongho, it’s just a housewarming party for Seonghwa-hyung and Hongjoong-hyung, you’ve met them before,” San tells him, bumping his shoulder as they walk up to the front door of the couple’s house.
“I’ve only met them a few times, hyung, I barely know them. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised they invited me at all.” It’s true; these people are more San’s friends than his own. I’m grateful for the offer, of course, but that doesn’t mean I get why they want me here.
“Please; they love you! I think out of all our friends, you might be their favourite,” he jokes as he knocks on the door. At Jongho’s doubtful look, San smiles encouragingly. “It’s just the eight of us tonight, I promise.”
Jongho doesn’t get a chance to reply with more than a grumbled “Fine.” before the door swings open to reveal an elegantly-dressed Seonghwa wearing a bright, welcoming smile that makes him feel just a little less like he’s intruding.
“Hi, it’s good to see you both! Come on in, everyone else is here already,” the older man ushers them inside like an excited mother and takes their coats as they slip off their shoes before wrapping each of them in a warm hug that San returns enthusiastically while Jongho just awkwardly tries to squirm out of it as politely as possible.
Unfortunately for him, Seonghwa just tightens his embrace, and when he looks to San for help his roommate simply grins and slips away, leaving him behind to scowl. Fucking asshole. Not gonna let that slide.
“Thank you for coming, we really appreciate it,” the host says quietly, and Jongho’s face heats up a little at the sincerity. Seonghwa gives him one last squeeze before letting him go and smiling at him once again.
He leads Jongho to the living room, a spacious area that’s been furnished in a cosy yet sleek style that’s surprisingly comforting; it’s not minimalistic, exactly, but it’s neat and clean — especially with its primarily black and white colour scheme and wood accents. I bet Seonghwa-hyung insisted that the sofas had to be that dark grey colour. He’d have a heart attack if it was anything lighter.
San stands over by the kitchen island with a friend of his that Jongho doesn’t recognise, waving him over. Despite rolling his eyes, he crosses the room and begrudgingly accepts the soju bottle that his roommate slips into his hand as he slings an arm over his shoulders.
“Jongho, this is Yeosang, I don’t think you guys have met yet; Yeosang-ah, this is my baby brother, Jongho!”
Jongho groans internally but plasters a smile on his face as he bows and greets the living statue San points out to him. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, San-ah talks about you a lot,” the gorgeous man returns, his deep voice velvety and pleasant and accentuated with a lisp. “I didn’t think he had any other siblings than his older sister, though.”
“We’re not actually related,” Jongho clarifies, sending a flat look to San, “we’re just from the same Choi clan.”
The confusion immediately clears from Yeosang’s delicate features, replaced a glint of some kind in his eyes and a matching smile. Knowing, he’d call it, if he had to put a name to it. “Ah, I see.”
Before they can continue talking, someone calls for Yeosang and he excuses himself to go find out why. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jongho turns to San.
“Ugh, hyung, I thought I asked you to stop introducing me like that,” he complains as always, though it never has much bite to it, and tonight is no exception. But he’s glad nobody else is around to witness him acting like a petulant child.
San at least has the decency to look a little sheepish as he turns back to face him. “I know, I’m sorry; it’s just a really good icebreaker. Besides, you know I really do think of you as a brother.”
Jongho softens a little at that. He does know, and that’s why he has such a hard time rejecting the affection the older man treats him with completely. “Still,” he tries to argue, “I’m only one year younger than you, that’s hardly a ‘baby’.”
“You’re the youngest out of the eight of us, so it counts. Besides, you don’t have to pretend to hate skinship and whatnot so much — we’re your friends, Jongho.”
Instead of answering, Jongho shrugs him off and takes a sip of soju, frowning to himself at how annoyingly perceptive his hyung is. Stupid San-hyung and his stupid romantic personality. Sometimes San is a little too good at reading people, and this is one of those times.
Thankfully, San doesn’t push the issue and steers him back to the sofas where everyone else is gathering.
“Jongho! Hi, it’s been a while!” one of San’s ridiculously tall friends — the puppy-like one, Yunho — greets him as they sit down, four on one couch and three on the other.
“Let’s play a drinking game,” suggests a particularly boisterous friend of San’s, seated next to Yeosang. Wooyoung, I think. His long black hair brushes his shoulders as he leans forward to hand drinks over to anyone who doesn’t have one yet.
“Fine by me,” Jongho agrees confidently. Based on the stories he’s heard, he’s reasonably sure that he has the highest tolerance out of everyone here.
“Wooyoung-ah, if this is the same one you tried to teach us last time we drank,” Hongjoong warns exasperatedly as he takes a seat on the floor in front of Seonghwa’s legs.
Wooyoung scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Please, what do you take me for? No, this one will be simple: two truths and a lie.”
“How does that work as a drinking game?” asks the other tall one, Mingi, with a frown.
“Whoever guesses the answer wrong drinks.”
Seems reasonable enough. Jongho can tolerate talking about himself if those are the rules.
“Any other rules we should know about?” Seonghwa levels Wooyoung with a stern, almost motherly look that gives Jongho the impression that there’s more than one story behind the question.
“Not this time, Ma,” the younger man replies, rolling his eyes. “Jeez. You make me sound like a criminal.”
“From what I’ve heard, not an inaccurate description,” Jongho says, stifling a small giggle at the mock offence on Wooyoung’s face.
Before Wooyoung can fire back, Seonghwa — holding back laughter of his own — intervenes with, “Alright, enough; who wants to go first?”
Jongho doesn’t participate much when it comes to everyone else’s turns, content to sit there and watch them all have fun while enjoying the music drifting from Hongjoong’s sound system.
“Jongho, you’re next,” Yeosang says as he nudges the younger man encouragingly.
“I’m excited for this, what’ve you got for us?” challenges a tipsy Mingi.
Truthfully, he hasn’t been giving much thought to what his three statements would be; he shifts to sit more comfortably as he considers his options. I think I want to start with the lie, so let’s come up with that first…
“Okay, got it,” he says after a moment, switching the bottle in his hand from his right to his left as he sits forward, catching everyone’s attention. “Firstly, I really enjoy eating sweet things like cake; second: my whole family are athletically gifted — including me — but growing up, I always wanted to be a singer.”
“Doesn’t San-ah get an unfair advantage on this?” pouts Mingi, only to be shushed by Wooyoung who has been taking this whole game far too seriously.
“Even if he does normally have one, he’s too drunk to be able to remember it,” he dismisses competitively.
Jongho fights back a smirk as he gives them the third and final option. “Last one is that I can split an apple in two with my bare hands.” He sits back and watches the others debate between themselves about which one could possibly be the answer.
“My guess is the apples,” Wooyoung announces. Seonghwa and Mingi agree with him, while Yunho, Hongjoong, and San choose the other truth. Yeosang, however, shakes his head.
“Nah, it’s the first one,” he says confidently. Jongho turns to him with an impressed nod.
“Correct.” The others erupt into chaotic shouts of disbelief and complaint — the loudest of which coming from San, leaning on his right shoulder — as Jongho confirms the answer.
“So you can really split apples?!” Wooyoung questions, eyes wide with interest and admiration.
“Mhm.” Why do I not like where this is going?
“You should show us!” suggests Mingi delightedly.
“Ah, I don’t know — I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience to Seonghwa-hyung…” He looks over to the older man, silently praying to be let off the hook.
“Nooooo,” Drunk San whines in Jongho’s ear as he shakes him gently, making him wince at the volume, “I wanna seeeeee!”
Much to the youngest’s dismay, his pleas go unheard (or perhaps just misinterpreted) and Seonghwa shakes his head. “It’s alright, you can do it in the kitchen; we’ll still be able to see from here,” he encourages.
With a sigh, Jongho knocks back a little more of his drink before setting it on the coffee table and carefully separating himself from San so he can stand. He tries not to let his feet drag with the heavy weight of seven pairs of curious, expectant eyes as he makes his way to the kitchen. I know everyone is drunk — or at least tipsy — but having their undivided attention like this is still weird.
He scans his surroundings and awkwardly shuffles over to the neatly-arranged fruit bowl sitting as the centrepiece of the kitchen island and tentatively picks out a frankly delicious-looking red apple that fits snugly in his palm, practically glistening under the kitchen lighting that makes the feeling of being under a spotlight even stronger.
Suddenly I kind of wish I’d brought my drink with me. Too late now, I guess. A whole new wave of nervousness crashes over him that he tries to quell with a deep breath as he moves the fruit bowl aside so that the others have a clear view of the “show” he’s about to put on.
Hongjoong catches his eye and gives him an encouraging smile that eases the coil of anxiety in his chest the tiniest bit. Jongho thanks him with a small, shy quirk of his own mouth before taking another deep breath. Best to get it over with, right?
“Everyone ready?” he asks, holding the apple in both hands. When they all nod, he pulls the apple apart easily.
Feeling emboldened by the loud shocked and impressed reactions, he lifts one half and — for dramatic effect — takes a bite, which makes the others all laugh and brings a smile to his own face. He bows and places the fruit bowl back in its original spot before returning to his original spot on the couch to a round of applause that makes him shy all over again.
As much as Jongho has been enjoying himself so far, he is still an introvert who needs to recharge his social battery from time to time.
He managed to slip outside while the others were distracted so he’s not entirely sure anyone knows where he is. It’s fine, I’ll go back inside soon; I just need another minute or two. The cool night air is refreshing compared to inside the house — not that it’s stifling, just different — and the stars above are as bright as Jongho has ever seen them. It’s a beautiful scene, the perfect kind of night for a small bonfire.
Maybe one day, if I get closer to everyone else, I'll suggest it to them. Jongho scoffs lightly at the idea. Something tells him that would take a while.
“What are you thinking about?” asks a voice that’s quickly becoming familiar to him. Startled, Jongho whips around to find Yeosang smiling kindly at him as he slides the back door shut behind him and comes to sit next to him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Are you out here to look for me?”
“Nah, I actually came to get away from San for a minute; he’s my best friend, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes he’s a little overbearing — especially drunk. Wooyoungie’s the same.”
“I completely understand,” Jongho chuckles. After a moment, he continues quietly, “Don’t… Don’t tell him I said this, but… I really appreciate that he looks out for me and treats me like a real little brother, even if it’s annoying sometimes.”
Yeosang hums, a pretty and melodic sound. “Yeah, it’s kinda like that for me too; I’m not good at showing how much I appreciate people, so I’m thankful that Sannie is so openly affectionate even when it gets overwhelming.”
They stay there like that for a few minutes, silent in mutual understanding of each other, and neither of them are the ones to break the easy and comfortable air between them; instead, the disruption comes from inside.
“Yeosangiiiieeeee,” wails Drunk San, “where’dju gooooo? And Jjongie too!”
Jongho and Yeosang exchange amused glances. “Looks like that’s our cue to go back inside,” the older of the two says as he stands up, holding out a hand to help Jongho.
“Guess so.” He accepts the offer with a word of thanks.
Right before Yeosang reaches for the door handle, Jongho finds the courage to ask, “By the way, earlier… How did you guess correctly?” Yeosang tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy in a silent request to elaborate. “About me not liking sweet things.”
“Oh, that. Your face scrunched up all cutely when you drank the peach soju and it was obvious that it wasn’t from the alcohol, so I figured it must have been the sweetness. Plus you avoided all the sweet snacks other than fruits all night.” The older man shrugs.
Wow. He really paid attention, huh? Jongho is stunned, unable to say anything for a moment. When he eventually finds his words again, he tells Yeosang, “I see.”
He can honestly say he never would have expected Yeosang, of all people, to notice such small things about his behaviour. Perhaps Yunho or Seonghwa, but not Yeosang. Something about it is… genuinely touching.
It makes him feel… seen; not in a bad way, but in a pleasant, comforting way.
The feeling warms his chest as he follows Yeosang back into the house. Maybe getting closer to these hyungs won’t be as difficult as I thought.
Despite himself, the thought makes him smile.