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The keypad beeps in error as his thumb slips and hits the wrong number. Seojun curses under his breath, struggling to keep upright and presses the numbers again, slowly. Carefully. It’s idiotic of Suho not to have changed the passcode in so long but right now Seojun is grateful for his complacency as the keypad chimes too happily for the middle of the night and the handle turns easily under his hand.
Seojun yawns again, the fourth time in a minute and drags his suitcase behind him as he slips inside, nearly tripping over the threshold. The noise he makes is horrific. His suitcase bangs against the door jamb and the duffle bag that had been resting atop of it slides off to land heavily on the floor. He pauses—there’s no sound coming from inside the apartment.
Seojun yawns again and has the presence of mind just to set his guitar case carefully on the entryway, far away from falling objects before messily kicking his shoes off. They land on opposite sides of the entryway and Seojun passes them, sliding on his socked feet down the hallway, the terrible light fixture of sharks Suho is weirdly obsessed with shining out at him.
Suho’s apartment is dark but Seojun could navigate it blind and concussed; doing so extremely, horribly exhausted isn’t a difficult ask. Eyes half-closed, suppressing another yawn he makes his way down the hallway to the cracked door leading to Suho’s bedroom.
Only then does he stop because Jugyeong and Suho are sprawled across the wide expanse of the bed. Half of Jugyeon’s hair has fallen out of its bun and is draped across Suho’s face and Suho’s leg is sticking out of the blanket, twisted around his thigh. Seojun has no idea how either of them hasn’t woken up yet, especially with the racket he was making.
He shuts the door quietly behind him and turns back to the living room. Even if they do sleep like the dead it’s better not to wake them up. He finds the arm of Suho’s couch, flops over it, landing bodily along the length of it and within seconds, is fast asleep.
The smell of eggs is what wakes him first.
Seojun sniffs and then scrunches his eyes tighter. He feels far too tired to be awoken just yet. There’s a blanket atop of him that he doesn’t recall finding last night and he pulls it around himself tighter, pushing his face into the couch that definitely costs more than his entire house.
There’s a bang of something heavy hitting metal and then a thud against the fabric as if someone had smacked another.
“Shh, you’ll wake him!” Jugyeong’s voice in a hissed whisper.
“If he wasn’t awake when you started singing in the morning, there’s no way he’s going to wake up from this,” comes Suho’s flat response and another smack lands.
Seojun groans, unwillingly scrunching his eyes open to the bright sunshine filling the apartment and the hushed whispers fall silent. He feels like a truck rammed into him—without the broken bones, this time. Nonstop flights across Europe for the last month had taken a toll on his body, only to end up capping it off with a twelve-hour flight that had landed him in Incheon International Airport at one in the morning. He doesn’t feel nearly rested enough to be awoken like this.
“I think he’s awake.”
“You think?” Seojun mutters, rubbing furiously at his eyes before stretching. His muscles ache. “You two are so loud.”
He opens his eyes again when a weight drops onto his legs to see Jugyeong leaning over him, grinning. She blocks out most of the sun Seojun blinks rapidly before his eyes adjust to the onslaught of light.
“Hi,” Jugyeong says, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. Her hand smooths over his face, gently brushing his hair off his face. “You’re back.”
Seojun opens his mouth to answer and instead, yawns. Jugyeong laughs. “You must have been so tired.”
“Mmmph.” Seojun gives up trying to think of words and pushes his face against her hand until she starts rubbing her thumb over his cheek again. He nearly falls asleep like that again, with Jugyeong’s comforting weight straddling his legs and her smooth, warm hands pressing into his skin.
“Your skin is atrocious,” Jugyeong comments quietly after an indeterminate amount of time passes. Seojun could have fallen asleep for all he knows. The smell of breakfast is stronger now.
Seojun yawns again and stretches as best as he can with Jugyeong atop him. He’s far more awake now than before, unwillingly so, but he can forgive a lot with Jugyeong smiling at him. “You try flying around for a month and see what it does to your skin,” he grumps.
“I’ll fix it,” Jugyeong promises, a smile Seojun can hear. He knows exactly what that means—Jugyeong loves her skincare nights. More than once, he and Suho have had to sit there with panda face masks on while Jugyeong forcibly steals their phones. No blackmail photos! Remember you love each other or I’ll make you!
Not that it’s difficult to love Suho. It’s just that they had a routine, a pattern to the way their conversations went and it was hard to break a habit.
The couch dips behind his head and Seojun cranes his chin up to see Suho settling down on the arm of the couch, passing Jugyeong a cup of coffee. He looks down at Seojun and quirks his lips.
“Hi.”
Seojun reaches out on instinct. Jugyeong doesn’t wait for Seojun to touch her, she’s always there, pushing into his space, smacking him on the arm as if they’re bickering teenagers all over again, the smell of her sweet perfume always lingering on his skin from her constant proximity. Suho is the opposite, as he always is. Years of friendship and years of more haven’t loosened him up at all and Seojun adores him for it, in all of his standoffish ways. He still wants to touch him, though. A month is too long to be away.
Seojun’s fingers press into the side of Suho’s thigh, crumpling the soft material of his sleep pants.
“Your hair looks stupid,” he mumbles, hand sliding up from his leg to tangle Suho’s fingers in his own.
Suho, hair sticking up all over his head like an electrocuted pineapple, ignores this. He’s good at that. “Why did you sleep on the couch?”
Seojun blinks. He’s too tired to be on his best form, to handle Suho’s random questions that follow a pattern only he can see. “I didn’t want to wake you both up.”
Jugyeong snorts over the rim of her cup. “We both sleep like the dead.” Seojun knows. He’s tested it many times when they were younger, when Suho was away and when he came back. Neither he nor Jugyeong would wake up for anything softer than a fire alarm. It had made weekdays impossible at first.
Seojun shrugs. “I was tired. Besides” he adds, grinning, “It looked like Jugyeong’s hair was trying to strangle you.”
Jugyeong protests, tossing her hair back over her shoulder but Suho’s expression doesn’t change. His fingers infinitesimally tighten around Seojun’s.
“Come sleep with us next time,” he insists. “I don’t…” He doesn’t finish the sentence but Seojun fills in the rest. I don’t want you to sleep alone.
Suho’s getting better at expressing his thoughts these days but he still has the tendency to clam up when everything becomes too much, to shutter everything inside himself and go deadly, awfully quiet. It’s okay; Seojun and Jugyeong know how to fill in the gaps anyway.
“Okay,” Seojun agrees easily, sleepiness making him liquid and soft. “Come here.”
Suho bends to kiss him, upside down, prompting Jugyeong to giggle Spiderman kiss! and snap a picture, the sound of the camera shutter loud in the otherwise quiet morning. Seojun ignores it, hand curling around the back of Suho’s head pressing him closer. Suho’s lips are soft, his lashes brushing against Seojun’s cheeks as he angles his head. Jugyeong’s hand runs up his stomach, pushing his shirt ever so slightly up, her fingers dipping between the ridges, and Seojun shudders, ever so slightly, his mouth parting further under Suho’s touch. Even at an awkward angle, it’s a good kiss. It’s been a month since he’s had this.
Someone’s phone rings in the kitchen, loud and demanding and Suho exhales, slightly exasperated, pulling back from Seojun to stare into his eyes. “That’s mine.”
“Go.” Seojun bats him away just in time before another yawn escapes him.
“How was the tour?” Jugyeong asks, settling herself back comfortably down on Seojun, straddling his legs as Suho disappears into the kitchen, picking up the call with a sharp, irritated What?
Seojun rolls his eyes. “We need to humanise him,” he tells Jugyeong who laughs, tucking her bare feet under Seojun’s thighs. “It was good. Exhausting… But so much fun.” He pauses and then adds, quieter, “We should go to Rome together, someday. All of us.”
A smile curves over Jugyeong’s face. “Not Paris?” She asks, leaning over to set her empty cup on the coffee table before settling back in Seojun’s lap. His hands land automatically on her thighs, smoothing over the fabric of her pants.
“Rome was so much more romantic,” Seojun replies. “All those old buildings.” His hands trail up her hips. “And the ocean nearby.” Up her waist. He smiles. “All those… Nooks and crannies.”
“Nooks and crannies?” Jugyeong echoes dubiously. “Is that supposed to be sexy?”
Seojun waggles his eyebrows, smirking. “You have no idea how sexy nooks and crannies can be.” His hands wrap around her waist, thumbs pressing ever so slightly into the base of her ribs. Jugyeong shudders and leans down to kiss him but at the last moment, Seojun pulls out of the way.
Jugyeong’s nose smushes against his collarbone. “Why?” She wails, the noise muffled into his shirt, clumsy till the end.
“Morning breath,” Seojun explains, laughing fondly as he picks her chin up, rubbing at her nose. He can’t imagine how bad his breath is, after spending more than a day traveling. “Didn’t want you to suffer.”
“Ow,” Jugyeong wrinkles her nose, submitting to Seojun’s touch. “You let Suho kiss you.”
“Suho could do with some suffering,” Seojun replies. “He’s too uppity for his own good.”
“I don’t care,” Jugyeong sniffs, petting at her nose. “Come here.” Seojun doesn’t even have time to protest before Jugyeong’s kissing him, sweet and perfect, her familiar flowery perfume surrounding him.
He hadn’t really clocked how lonely he’d been until this moment, with Suho’s voice in the background, the remnants of his touch still sparking Seojun’s skin and Jugyeong kissing him, pressing him further down against the couch with her steady weight, her glasses knocking against his face. Seojun exhales shakily when she draws back the tiniest bit, his thumb smoothing over her cheekbone. He adores her like this. All pink-cheeked, and faintly drowsy. Her eyes bright and wide behind her glasses. Jugyeong looks at him, tilting her head in question.
“What?” She asks, bending back down to smack another kiss against his mouth.
“Nothing,” Seojun manages but he holds her close when she kisses him again, pulling her close and licking into her mouth. Jugyeong gasps and then immediately gives as good as she gets, her fingers tangling in Seojun’s hair, thighs squeezing intermittently around his hips.
They’re both breathing unsteadily when they part, saliva stringing between their lips before Jugyeyong sits back fully, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I just missed you,” Seojun confesses before he can think twice about it. It’s the words he’s held back for a month, too ashamed to confess his homesickness while playing in countries people would kill to experience. “Both of you.” So much.
Jugyeong hears the unsaid words and her eyes soften. “We missed you too,” she says sweetly, kissing him again, soft and close-mouthed before hugging him. Seojun takes a deep breath, inhaling her and closes his eyes, tucking his chin over her shoulder. “You’re home now,” Jugyeong hums. “That’s all that matters.”
Because Jugyeong is the only one of them with a traditional adult job, she has to leave soon after that.
“Come pick me up after work and we’ll celebrate, okay?” She says happily to Seojun, zipping her boots up. She lets out a little noise of joy and kisses him again, swaying back so they nearly unbalance and Seojun has to catch himself against the wall over her head. “I’m just so happy you’re back,” Jugyeong says, leaving Seojun breathless with the force of her smile before bounding over to Suho and kissing him in the same fashion.
The door shuts behind her cheerful goodbye and Seojun and Suho stare at the now-closed door before looking at each other.
“Wanna make out?” Seojun asks, waggling his eyebrows at Suho. Suho throws a towel at his face.
“Go brush your teeth. You taste awful,” he responds and stalks off. Seojun grins as he catches a glimpse of Suho’s ears turning red.
Because Suho is very nearly a chaebol who lived in a fancy penthouse apartment throughout high school, his shower is the nicest thing Seojun has been naked in. Though, Seojun’s come to realise his envy over Suho’s life is useless, especially whenever he sees Suho at his or Jugyeong’s houses, with that quiet, hurt look that never suits his face but has become a semi-permanent fixture.
He spends an indulgent amount of time in there, letting the hot water beat the grime of travel off him and shampooing his hair with Suho’s fancy products before finally stepping out.
“Did you drown in there?” Suho asks when Seojun finally makes his way out, rolling his head in relief. His muscles are wrung out and relieved and he’s got some of Jugyeong’s sweet-smelling moisturiser on his face. He feels like he’s floating on air.
“Your shower is heaven,” Seojun replies, stretching luxuriously before running a towel through his damp hair. “I think I might have.”
Suho’s back is to him, bent over his laptop, so Seojun gets the full brunt of Suho’s reaction when he turns around. The blush kickstarts so violently, Seojun wonders how it must feel, turning Suho’s cheeks pink and flushing down his neck and his collarbones.
“Put some clothes on,” Suho hisses, his eyes wide as he stares at Seojun. Seojun doesn’t miss the way his gaze darts to his chest and lower before determinedly looking away. “What’s wrong with you?”
Seojun looks down at himself, grinning. “I’m wearing underwear.” Bright pink boxers that Suho had bought him as a gag gift before he’d gone on tour. Seojun had never worn them, aching just a little too much at the thought of Suho and Jugyeong together without him, but the reminder was nice. The knowledge that he had someone to go back to, two someones who would welcome him with open arms.
Suho flaps his hand at him, looking like a harried flamingo. “Actual clothes,” he says despairingly. “Why are you such an exhibitionist?”
“We’ve actually slept together,” Seojun says, just to see the blush darken just a touch more. “I’ve had your dick in my mouth, I think we’re beyond a little mild nudity.”
Suho buries his face in his hands, making a muffled, despairing noise. The tips of his ears are burning red and Seojun laughs, bounding forward to kiss the shell of his ear. Suho attempts to squirm away but Seojun holds him fast until he goes limp.
“I’ll put on clothes if you come see my mom with me,” Seojun says into Suho’s ear.
Suho squirrels an arm out of Seojun’s hold and thumbs at his laptop to keep the screen from turning off. “I’ve got homework.”
Seojun taps at the touchpad, batting Suho’s hand out of the way and squints at the screen. “You’ve got homework that isn’t due… For another month?”
“It’s an important project,” Suho mumbles, trying to pull out of Seojun’s hold for a moment before he gives up again, sinking into Seojun’s arms. Seojun nuzzles him, pleased. “I want to do well on it. I’m going to graduate soon.”
“You already write half my songs,” Seojun says. They’re lucky—the both of them—that his company is apologetic enough about past mistakes to let Suho do whatever the fuck he wants, including writing songs for a popular idol group without an illustrious career to back it up. “Come home with me. I want to see my mom.”
“You can see your mom alone.”
“But she’ll want to see you too,” Seojun nudges him. “You don’t want to disappoint my mom, do you?”
Bingo. Suho’s expression falls and he sighs.
“Great!” Seojun says brightly, bounding up from the couch. He has no qualms exploiting Suho’s weakness for mothers, not when he knows Suho will benefit from some good food and coddling. “I’ll go put on actual clothes and we can leave.”
…
It ends with Suho.
Well, first it starts with Suho and then it ends with Suho and then it starts with a girl stealing his helmet and it ends with Seojun holding her up as Suho leaves and it starts on a wintery, cold night with the sharp smell of alcohol and the soft press of Jugyeong’s lips and it ends again and again as it always does, with Suho.
It goes like this:
The first time Seojun meets Suho, he doesn’t think they’re going to be friends. It’s Seyeon who brings them together, after all. Seyeon who introduces them both to the joy of music; creating it and performing it. Seyeon who brings Suho back, time and time again even when Seojun dislikes his standoffish manner and stony expression.
Then Seyeon dies and with him, takes every ounce of friendship and camaraderie and—and—love that Seojun had held.
They don’t speak for months.
Seojun catches a glimpse of Suho once or twice. Their neighbourhood isn’t that big, no matter how much Jugyeong will later complain about the two of them dogging her home. He’ll never admit how much it hurts to look at Suho, even out of the corner of his eyes, to see the manufactured blank look on his face, built into steadiness by a pure iron will.
Friends come and go all the time, Seojun reasons, stepping into the hospital elevator and pushing the button for his mother’s floor, the doors sliding shut before the view of Suho walking out the hospital’s front doors, head down and hood up. People enter your life and exit the next second, faster than gravity dragging you down. Suho is no different. Suho can be easily forgotten. Seojun has more important things to focus on than a broken heart.
It goes like this:
Seojun nearly hits a girl with his motorcycle, and if he weren’t seconds from being beat to utter shit, he would have stopped to make sure she was okay. He’s not the asshole everyone claims he is, but the armour is convenient to hide behind.
Seojun loses his helmet and meets the weirdest, clumsiest girl he’s ever seen. She outstrips Gowoon for being the most annoying person he knows, which is saying something and yet… Yet, Seojun keeps seeking her out, keeps pressing into her space to get that heady whiff of watermelon perfume, to see her eyes widen every time as if expecting something untoward to happen.
It helps that Suho looks murderous every time he tries, that his veneer of perfection shatters under Seojun’s minimal attempts. As if paying attention to Seojun for the first time in nearly a year isn’t worth beyond the pretty girl that stands between them.
It goes like this:
Things happen, the seasons change and Suho falls in love and it’s not with him.
Seojun falls in love and it’s not with Suho.
It’s odd how much time can change things. How things you thought once would be engraved into stone can erode less than a year later and crumble into sand.
Once upon a time, Seojun thought it would have been the three of them against the world. Funny how things change.
It goes like this:
Jugyeon and Suho start dating and Seojun hovers around the edges of their lives, never quite inserting himself into it but never quite gone. It’s pathetic, he’s well aware but the slight taste of what it feels like to get Suho’s friendship again is a dangerous, instantly addicting drug and Jugyeon’s always been a little too difficult to leave behind, no matter how many times she unintentionally breaks his heart.
It goes like this:
Suho leaves, catching Jugyeong up in a bruising hug and grasping at Seojun’s hand, just for the briefest moment, before pulling away without looking back once.
Suho leaves and Jugyeon cries, crumpling in on herself from the weight of her tears, dissolving like wet papier-mâché as Seojun holds her, gently wiping away her tears with the end of her ludicrously long scarf. (Suho had knitted it for her, eyebrows furrowed in concentration while Seojun had teased him about dropping stitches and tangling his yarn. He hadn’t been there when Suho had given it to her, but he’d seen it the next day at school, glossed over the gorgeous white fabric with a sort of aching certainty as Suho leaned down to interlace his fingers with Jugyeong in full view of the entire school, a smile fixed on his face only aimed at her).
Suho leaves and takes with him, not all, but quite a bit of their current lives with him.
You can’t go, Seojun doesn’t say because it is selfish and cruel and far too needy for what he’s allowed himself to be. We were just starting to be brothers again. Though that was a lie. They’ve never really been brothers, nor had they ever been friends. It had always floated in that nebulous sphere between knowing and wanting more.
It goes like this:
Suho slips out of their lives and Jugyeong cries again when she tells Seojun they’ve broken up and Seojun buys her all the tteokbokki she wants and gently wipes away her tears so she can eat properly.
“I thought we were going to be forever,” Jugyeong sobs into a piece of fishcake, the very epitome of a broken-hearted teenager. Seojun thinks she looks beautiful even as she blows her nose loudly into the tissue he holds out. “That’s so dumb isn’t it?”
“It isn’t,” Seojun tells her, brushing her hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He hasn’t exactly examined why Suho leaving is causing ache but he’s pretty sure the answer isn’t going to be what he wants. “He…” Seojun swallows and looks away for a second, looking out the window at the flower blossoms falling gently onto the sidewalk outside. It’s a beautiful spring afternoon and Suho is gone. He turns back to Jugyeong; it’s always difficult to look away from her for too long. “You had something special.”
Jugyeong looks at him, wide eyes welling up with fresh tears and automatically, Seojun reaches out to wipe them away again.
“Stop crying,” he chides gently. “You never know what’s going to happen. He’ll come back when his father gets better and then… Then you’ll be right where you left off.” And I’ll still be alone.
Seojun closes his eyes briefly and shoves that thought aside. Today isn’t about him. Nothing about this is about him.
…
Gowoon is sitting on the couch when Seojun lets himself in. Juyoung is sitting between her legs playing a game Seojun had bought for himself.
Juyoung catches sight of him and yelps, dropping the controller unceremoniously on the floor, pressing himself back against the couch. Seojun allows himself a smug little smile; he’s still got it.
“What are you doing here?” Gowoon asks, disgruntled, untangling herself from Juyoung’s desperate clutches.
“Is that any way to greet your brother after he’s been gone for a month?” Seojun demands, already holding out his arms.
“You’re always gone and you always come back.” Gowoon rolls her eyes but hugs him for a brief second before pulling away and smiling sweetly at Suho.
“You came too, oppa?”
“Why don’t you talk to me like this?” Seojun demands, kicking off his shoes. Suho hovers behind him, neatly arranging his shoes on the floor before slipping on the guest house slippers that are exclusively his or Jugyeong’s whenever they visit.
“He dragged me along,” Suho tells Gowoon, eyes crinkling up in a smile. “How’s college?”
Seojun promptly tunes them out as Gowoon starts excitedly telling Suho about her composition classes and drops onto the couch where Juyoung is still sitting, frozen. “This is my game, you know,” he tells him conversationally.
He can see Juyoung visibly pluck the courage up, squaring his shoulders and hides a grin. “Gowoon let me play it.”
Seojun leans in, narrowing his eyes. “Did Gowoon tell you I was coming back today?”
Juyoung’s eyes go wide and he stifles a yelp. Seojun laughs and picks up the controller. “Go get the other one,” he tells Juyoung, jerking his chin at the television and Juyoung stares at him for half a second before he abruptly moves, nearly knocking his shin against the coffee table.
“Don’t bully my boyfriend,” Gowoon says, kicking Seojun’s leg as she passes by him on her way to the kitchen. Suho sits down on the couch beside Seojun, hesitantly looking around before drawing a leg up to lounge more comfortably, leaning against Seojun as he does so. Seojun glances at him but doesn’t draw attention to it, feeling stupidly fond.
Juyoung starts up the game again as Gowoon comes back in, water in her hand.
“Where’s mom?” Seojun asks, smashing into Juyoung’s car and kicking him off the track instantly. Juyoung protests loudly as he respawns, and Seojun snickers, speeding his car off ahead.
“Talking to Hyerin auntie,” Gowoon says with a roll of her eyes. “She keeps asking if I’m ready to settle down.”
Juyoung’s bright orange car slams into a tree and dies instantly as he splutters indignantly at Gowoon. “I’m your boyfriend!”
“Yes, the whole world knows you’re my boyfriend,” Gowoon sighs. “You keep putting me on your Instagram with disgusting cheesy captions.” She sounds faintly pleased about it though.
Seojun tears his eyes away from the screen to raise an eyebrow menacingly at Juyoung who turns pale when he notices.
“As if you’re any better,” Suho mutters, nudging Seojun.
Gowoon laughs and Seojun wheels around to look at him, betrayed. “I have never posted anything cheesy about either of you.”
“That’s because you’re a fancy idol,” Suho rebukes but he’s grinning.
Seojun plays with Juyoung until his mom comes home, carrying bags full of produce.
“Here.” Seojun jumps up and grabs the bags from her. “Let me get these.”
“Seojun-ah!” His mom says delighted, handing the bags over to him so she can cup his cheeks in her hands. “I didn’t know you came home already.”
Suho takes the bags from Seojun’s hands so Seojun can fold his mom into a hug, closing his eyes as he buries his nose in her hair.
“Hi,” he says softly, swaying back and forth and clutching her tightly. “I missed you.”
“Ahh, my son,” his mom says happily, kissing his cheek and drawing back to look at him. “What do you want for food, I’ll make you whatever you want.” She spots Suho and her expression brightens. “You brought Suho too!”
“Hello auntie,” Suho says, getting up to bow deeply. Seojun’s mom bats her hands at him and pulls him into a hug as well.
“I told you to visit when Seojun was gone,” she chides. “This is as much your home too. Yours and Jugyeong’s.”
Under her touch, Suho goes a lovely pink and Seojun pauses on his way to the kitchen to take it in. He looks away before he can say or do anything embarrassing and goes to put the groceries away.
Lunch is a lovely affair. Seojun sits sandwiched between his mother and Suho and eats all of her side dishes before he even attacks the proper meal.
His manager calls right at the end and shoves the last piece of cucumber in his mouth, battling Juyoung’s chopsticks to get at it before answering.
“Yeah, hyung.” Seojun unhooks his foot from around Suho’s calf and winks at him before heading to his bedroom to let his manager yell at him in peace about keeping contact with the company after the end of a worldwide tour.
“I was at home for most of the day,” Seojun says while his manager yells about the dangers of sasaeng fans and social media stalkers. His words go mostly unheard. Flat on the bed, Seojun rolls his eyes up at the ceiling. He tunes out most of the tirade, having heard it all before. His manager is the type of person who cares loudly and abrasively and Seojun has learned to ignore most of it. The useful bits only come at the end of every lecture.
“Be at the company on Friday at 10,” is the last thing his manager snaps, not even waiting for Seojun’s acknowledgement before hanging up. Seojun lets his hand drop, his phone slipping out of his grip to land harmlessly on the sheets.
The door opens mere seconds later and Suho peeks his head in, looking like a curious rabbit before he realises Seojun isn’t on the call anymore.
“Done?”
“Yeah,” Seojun scoots over so Suho can sit down next to him. He automatically reaches out and tangles their fingers together, drawing their entwined hands to rest over his heart. “Just an update. I have to be back at the company the day after tomorrow.”
“A full day of rest,” Suho drawls with a touch of irritation. “What a luxury.”
Seojun laughs. “It’s actually fine,” he says, nudging Suho. “Don’t get all up in arms about it. I think they just want to talk about our next steps.”
“You spent the last month doing shows,” Suho says, scowling. “You deserve more than a day off.”
“And I’ll probably get it.” Seojun tugs at his hand, still entwined with his own. “Come here and chill out.”
“I am chill,” Suho grumps, very much not chill but he flops backwards on the bed, turning his head to look at Seojun.
Seojun squeezes his hand. “I like seeing you here,” he says. “With my family.”
As expected, Suho’s face goes instinctively blank in the face of sincere emotions before red floods his face. It had been difficult to do this at first, to be as communicative as a relationship such as theirs demanded. It had taken a lot of false starts and awful fights before they’d slowly settled into the new patterns, carefully navigating the pitfalls that came with too little and simultaneously too much communication into a fledgeling relationship.
Suho’s jaw works and then, in a slightly strangled voice, says, “I like being here. With you.”
“Did that hurt?” Seojun asks, narrowing his eyes playfully at Suho. “It looked like it hurt.”
Suho shoves his face away lightly. “Shut up.”
Seojun laughs and tugs him closer. He props his chin upon Suho’s shoulder and observes him. He’s unfairly handsome in all the ways Seojun isn’t; a strong sloping nose, large round eyes and stupidly perfect lips that never fail to feel soft despite the fact that Seojun’s never seen Suho pull out lip balm.
The noise of Juyong and Gowoon bickering outside, the clank of dishes being washed, the chirping of afternoon birds settling in for a drowsy nap, all of it fades away as Suho opens his eyes to gaze back at him.
Seojun wonders what he sees.
In that brief moment of tranquil silence, Suho kisses him.
The sudden force of it sends Seojun sprawling back against the bed and Suho follows without pause, slinging a leg over his thigh and kissing Seojun again, hot and possessive, going from zero to a hundred and sixty without pause.
It occurs to Seojun, in moments like these, that had he been just a touch stupider or Suho had been fractionally more hardheaded, he wouldn’t have gotten this. He wouldn’t have been this happy even if he’d wandered the entire planet looking for something that had felt as good as being in love with Suho and Jugyeong had.
Then Suho does something with his teeth on the most sensitive part of Seojun’s neck and all melancholic thoughts about the past fly out of Seojun’s head.
“I’ve been waiting to do that,” Suho murmurs when they part, Seojun staring up at him with wide eyes. Suho looks irritatingly composed still, holding himself up above Seojun with arms that don’t even tremble. “Don’t go on tour again.”
“I’ll make a note to my manager,” Seojun responds on instinct, still breathless from the force of the kiss. His hand trails up Suho’s arm, rubbing over the swell of his bicep. “‘Sorry, hyung, I can’t go on any more tours until my boyfriend stops missing me.’ I’m sure that’ll go over well.”
Suho’s eyes crinkle up into a smile at that.
“What?”
“Your boyfriend,” Suho says simply and it’s so absurdly sweet of him that Seojun has to kiss him again. Slings his free leg around Suho’s hip and drags him close. They furiously make out until Gowoon bangs on the door and shrieks about helping out with the dishes.
…
In short, it goes like this:
Suho comes back and Jugyeong falls for him all over again, easily and stupidly and just like the same teenager in love she always was. Except they’re all grown up now and Suho has a stupid fringe that makes him look like a living statue of an idiot.
Jugyeong falls for Suho all over again except this time, she’s kissed Seojun. This time, Seojun has to be there, has to stand there and witness with his own two eyes as two people he’s—
They choose each other. Again. Always.
And it’s just Seojun left sitting on a staircase, trying very fucking hard not to cry because if any of his members discover him like this, he’s never going to hear the end of it.
Except Jugyeong comes back. Jugyeong comes back with her beautiful hair a wild mess and her phone clutched in her hand and she bangs into the stairwell like she walked into their high school, with her head held up high and armour shed.
Seojun honestly doesn’t realise she’s there until she’s knelt down in front of him, her sweet watermelon perfume filling the stairwell.
“You idiot,” Jugyeong chides when Seojun blinks up at her. Her hands come up to swipe at his tears before he can even move, cool thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin under his eyes. She tips her head and smiles that disarming smile. “What, you let me cry on you for the last two years and suddenly I’m not going to return the favour?”
“But—Suho—”
“As if I would let him go without speaking to me,” Jugyeong rolls her eyes, waggling her phone in Seojun’s face. “Did you forget technology exists?”
Seojun’s heart falls. There’s no chance of him getting out of this cleanly, he knows that but he’d hoped he could cut himself off without having to actually have this conversation. “Jugyeong-ah—”
“Were you just going to let him go again without talking to him?” Jugyeong asks frankly. “I know you spoke to him when he was overseas.”
Seojun stares at her. “I… It wasn’t—I didn’t—How did you know?”
Jugyeong’s hands pause on his cheeks. “I heard,” she says simply and looks up at him through her lashes. “Why didn’t you tell me you loved him too?”
It goes like this:
Suho calls him one night. Seojun is drifting between awareness and sleep, the line blurring every time he takes a breath.
Then, his phone rings and he startles awake. He reaches for the phone on instinct and swipes to take the call without looking at the ID.
“What?” He grumbles into his phone, brain still desperately trying to clamber back to sleep.
There’s a sharp intake of breath but no one speaks.
Seojun frowns and then pulls his phone away from his ear to glare one eye at the overwhelmingly bright screen. His eye waters immediately but he can still make out the three characters declaring themselves boldly across the stretch of his screen. Seojun hurriedly puts his phone back to his ear.
“Suho?” He asks.
No one speaks but there’s a shaky exhale and Seojun sits up, letting his blanket fall off him, heart pounding.
“Suho,” he says again. “If that’s you, you better have a good explanation for waking me up at—” he chances a look at the clock hanging on his wall and sighs. “Two-thirty in the morning.”
“I didn’t realise it was that late,” Suho says and it sounds automatic, a rote reply bred of good manners. “I’m—I’ll go—”
“No.” The vehemence in Seojun’s reply surprises him. On the other end of the line, Suho is silent. Seojun scrambles to sit upright properly, leaning against the windows that peer out into the neighbourhood street. Across the road a white cat sits, licking its paw. Seojun feels breathless. It’s the first time he’s heard Suho’s voice in months and it’s sent him more unbalanced than he’d like to admit. “Suho-yah,” he says quietly. “Why did you call me?”
“I…” Suho shifts across the line. “I just wanted to hear someone’s voice.”
“Oh.” Seojun’s shoulders drop. He’s sure Suho would have called Jugyeong if he thought she’d pick up his calls.
“I wanted to hear your voice,” Suho corrects quietly. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”
Seojun blinks rapidly. Above him, the clouds shift to reveal the moon. It’s waxing tonight, brilliantly white and the light floods his room, twisting in eerie patterns as clouds drift across the sky.
“No,” Seojun says. “That’s not—it isn’t weird.”
Suho takes a breath and neither of them speak for a minute. Seojun watches the clouds drift across the starry sky and then asks, carefully, “Is your father okay?”
“He’s fine,” Suho says instantly and Seojun sighs in relief. “That’s not—there’s no change. That’s… Not why I was calling. I…”
“You wanted to hear my voice,” Seojun says and Suho makes a soft noise of assent. Seojun stares up at the moon until his eyes burn from going so long without blinking. Still, Suho says nothing and so Seojun bites the bullet and tries, “Want to hear about my day, then?”
There’s an exhale of something, maybe relief. “Yes,” Suho says finally. “Tell me.”
And so Seojun does.
It goes like this:
Suho calls and Seojun talks.
He calls at the most random of times, when Seojun is least expecting it, as if he knows Seojun is off-kilter and wants to unbalance him more.
Suho doesn’t call often and Seojun, busy with his upcoming debut, can’t afford to lose much more sleep for secret rendezvous. But when Suho does call, Seojun talks. He tells him about his bandmates, about his sister and Chorong’s adventures through higher education.
“You can talk about Jugyeong, you know,” Suho interjects one evening when Seojun is walking back home from the company, his throat aching from vocal practice earlier and now from being on call with Suho for nearly half an hour. It’s the first thing Suho has said since Seonjun picked up—the first time he’s gone off script in all of their calls and Seojun draws short on the street. The bus sign above him flickers, the numbers for the next bus drawing closer and closer.
“Do you want to hear about her?” Seojun asks. “Or is this another vaguely masochistic thing of yours.”
Suho scoffs. “I don’t have a masochistic thing,” he says, a spark of colour coming into his voice for the first time since these calls have started. “I was just asking.”
Seojun rolls his eyes at the ad facing him. IU stares back at him, holding a soju bottle in her hands. Her expression doesn’t change but Seojun thinks she looks vaguely judgemental.
“She’s doing fine,” Seojun says. “She got into university.”
Suho laughs a little. “Good for her.”
“It was a close call,” Seojun drawls. “She told me she guessed a lot on the exam.” He kicks at a stray rock and then chooses to sink onto the bus bench, splaying his legs outward. “Tell me about your day.”
He can practically hear Suho blinking in confusion and grins to himself.
“Why?” Suho asks, sounding baffled.
“Why not?” Seojun asks, tipping his head back against the glass. “I tell you everything.”
“It’s not that interesting.”
Seojun smiles. “Tell me anyway.” He pauses and then says, in a faintly mocking echo of the past, “I want to hear your voice.”
Suho sighs so forcibly and so full of exasperation that Seojun laughs loudly. It echoes into the night and a bird flies out of a nearby tree. Suho starts talking.
It goes like this:
Jugyeong kisses Seojun in the stairwell while he’s still embarrassingly teary and then drags him to Suho’s apartment so they can have a Capital T Talk.
“This is my nightmare,” Seojun mutters as Suho opens the door, stupid doe eyes going wide at the sight of Seojun on his doorstep.
“Too bad,” Jugyeong says brightly and shoves him inside. “We’re sorting this out.”
Against all odds, they do.
…
They hang around Seojun’s house until the sun starts setting and then they head off to pick Jugyeong up.
Suho drives which is infuriatingly attractive as always and Seojun leans against the window in a flagrant violation of traffic laws and watches him, his knee drawn up to his chest.
“Sit properly,” Suho says, glancing up in the rearview mirror before he turns the corner.
Seojun grins at him. “No.”
Suho shoots him a sideways glance, exasperated and reaches over to drag Seojun’s leg down but Seojun resists until Suho lets go with a sigh. Snickering, Seojun grabs his hand before he can move fully away.
“Do you want us to get into an accident?” Suho demands.
Seojun looks at the backseat consideringly. “Do you think that’s wide enough for you to fuck me in?”
“Why are you like this?” Suho mutters, wrenching his hand away so he can turn into the parking lot of Jugyeong’s workplace properly while Seojun laughs.
They park and Suho opens his door, looking at Seojun in bafflement when he doesn’t move. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No,” Seojun shakes his head vigorously. “She might be in there.”
Suho’s eyes roll heavenward. “You are too tall and too old to be this scared of a five foot girl.”
“She keeps asking me out on dates!” Seojun whines. Suho gets out and shuts the door behind him only to walk around the car and yanks the door open. Seojun nearly topples out but Suho catches him and sets him upright, still looking blandly bored.
“She doesn’t take the hint,” Seojun continues as Suho bodily drags him from the car. “Me verbally humiliating her in front of all her staff wasn’t enough for her to back off?”
“It’s your endless charm,” Suho says in a toneless affect. “It’s so hard to look away from you, Seojun oppa.”
Seojun slants him a glance, straightening up as they walk to the front door. “You’re joking but what’s it going to take to get you to call me that in bed at some point?”
“In your dreams,” Suho says flatly, opening the door for him.
Seojun winks at him as he passes. “That can be arranged, honey.”
Jugyeong is packing up her station as they walk in and her face brightens when she catches sight of them. “You’re here,” she calls, delightedly. “Give me five minutes, I’m almost done.”
“Take your time,” Suho says, shoving his hands in his pockets. Seojun looks around at the photos on the wall. Jugyeong’s company has done his makeup on and off through the years and he likes looking at the new looks they’ve come up with.
Someone turns in their chair at the sound of Suho’s voice and Seojun tries not to flinch when she narrows in on him.
“It’s her,” he hisses to Suho. “I told you.”
The girl starts snapping at one of the stylists to get her cape off and Seojun immediately stiffens, assuming his coldest face, turning his back to her.
“This is your fault,” Seojun snarls to Suho who looks over his shoulder at Seojun’s stalker, considering. “If I get dragged into another date with that harpy, I’m going to—”
Suho grabs him, snakes a hand around his waist and another around the back of his head and kisses Seojun in full view of the shop, dipping him backwards until Seojun flails, grasping at Suho’s coat to hold on.
Suho kisses him with the passion of a coal miner greeting his wife after a week in the caves, his mouth hot and possessing, an onslaught of tongue and lips and teeth until Seojun is helplessly gasping against his mouth. Only after he’s completely ravaged Seojun, does he pull back, yanking Seojun upright with him and stepping away, face placid and looking completely unruffled. The only evidence of what had just transpired sitting in the curve of his puffy lips.
Seojun stares at him. The idol stares at him, sinking back down into her chair. The entire shop stares at them, stock still.
“What was that?” Seojun demands. He feels dizzy and slightly off kilter.
Suho gives him a slow blink and Seojun swears he looks slightly smug. “Marking my territory. Oppa.”
Seojun’s mouth drops open and his befuddlement is only broken by Jugyeong’s awkward high laugh.
“I’m, uh, ready to go now.”
Suho turns toward her and smiles, as if he hadn’t nearly unhinged his jaw and swallowed Seojun whole seconds ago. “Hi. You look very pretty.”
She does, Seojun has to admit. Her hair is pulled back into a loose bun and even the mild look of horrified embarrassment on her face doesn’t detract from her beauty.
Seojun reaches out to take her bag, shouldering it himself. “Are you going to get fired because of Suho’s excessive displays of emotions?” He asks in an undertone while narrowing his eyes at Suho.
“I don’t think so?” Jugyeong asks, shooting Suho a baffled look as he opens the door for her. “Did you hit your head or something?”
“No,” Suho says and doesn’t elaborate.
They end up at a tiny restaurant, lit primarily by fairy lights and warm golden lamps hanging low over their heads, and crowd into the booth in the corner. Seojun sits down and moves over so Jugyoeng can sit down next to him and Suho sits across from them, pulling off his coat.
Jugyeong chatters about work, telling them about her clients and the five separate times she tripped over her feet until the food comes.
“How was your mom?” Jugyeong asks, tilting her head up at Seojun.
“Good,” Seojun says, casting a sly smile over at Suho. “She told Suho to come over next week.”
Jugyeong laughs fondly while Suho’s ears turn pink. “Of course she does, Suho’s very lovable.” She kicks her feet up into Suho’s lap and leans against Seojun, her head dropping onto his shoulder. “God, I’m exhausted.”
“You’ve worked hard,” Suho says softly, and, over the table, Seojun can see his fingers press into her ankles, soothing. “Are you staying over tonight?”
Jugyeong makes a face and wiggles around until she pulls out her phone from her pocket. “I’ll have to make an excuse with my mom, two nights in a row is going to be hard to pull off.”
“Stay,” Seojun says. “Tell her you’re staying with Gowoon for the night. She’ll cover for you.”
Jugyeong’s face brightens and she starts texting furiously.
“Did you just offer up my apartment?” Suho asks him, amused.
Seojun gives him a lazy grin. “I’ll suck your dick tonight,” he offers.
“You were already going to do that.”
“I’m staying,” Jugyeong says triumphantly, setting her phone down. She points her fingers at the two of them. “But I want to see you two fuck.”
“Like that’s a hardship,” Seojun mutters as Suho looks smugly pleased and kisses her temple. “I missed you.”
Jugyeong’s smile melts into fondness and she looks up at him, cupping his cheek in a cool palm. “Missed you too.”
…
Suho’s apartment is dark when they stumble through the front door. Seojun is the only one keeping the other two mostly upright as Jugyeong’s legs are wrapped around Suho’s waist, furiously kissing him.
They nearly trip over the pile of shoes in the entryway but Seojun steers them out of the way at the last moment, letting them slam against the wall instead, flicking the lightswitch on.
“You’re so heavy,” Suho groans but his words are mostly muffled against Jugyeong’s mouth and Seojun hisses in sympathy when she sinks her teeth into his lower lip. He twists back and makes to turn off the light but Suho reaches out and seizes a handful of his coat. “Come on,” he says hoarsely and when Seojun turns, both of them are looking at him, dark eyed and plum bruised lips.
“We can worry about it later,” Jugyeong says, tugging Seojun closer. “Come be with us.”
Seojun goes.