Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chan used to be pretty cool about having crushes. 

Admittedly, there wasn’t much choice for a closeted gay high-schooler except keeping his crushes to himself, but still, he was cool about keeping it cool. He didn’t need to do anything about them. Chan was just happy to contemplate them late at night, lying in bed, letting the giddy feeling simmer in his chest until he fell asleep, then carry on with his life in the morning. He was busy enough as it was staying at the top of his class to really worry about Kim Yuntae (who had a girlfriend!) liking him back. Or Hwang Hyunjin, who didn’t have girlfriends and gave enough queer vibes for Chan to wonder sometimes, but had very strict, conservative parents, so it wasn’t worth dwelling on. Or Kang Noah, exchange student from England, who spoke choppy Korean at best but always smiled kindly at Chan. Or Min Doyun, his father’s boss’ son that for years endured awkward play dates with him. Or that kid with dimples and glasses that Chan never knew the name of, but saw every morning on his commute to school. Or briefly, Jeon Wonwoo, a summer during his last year of high school when he was hired by Chan’s parents to be his CSAT tutor. They spent almost every day together that summer and Chan couldn’t help the thundering crush that took over him, but they had been friends before that, and continued to be friends after it, too, so he is sometimes tempted to scratch Wonwoo out of the list. Chan only doesn’t because he likes keeping his lists honest.

And anyway, Chan relishes on blaming his current predicament on every boy he’s ever pined for and had to keep quiet about. Why else would he have latched on to the first pretty guy who smiled at him the day he set foot on campus? Chan, barely savoring freedom from living under his parents’ roof, fresh out of the closet (well, sort of), was eager to kiss and hold hands with boys when in walked Choi Yeonjun, like a beacon of light, with his unfaltering smile, polite curiosity, the loveliest pair of lips Chan had ever seen, and a pride flag pin on his bag.

“You want to hold his hand? You’re so cute,” Seungkwan, the only living person who has known about every one of Chan’s crushes, told him when Chan went running to him to jabber on about Yeonjun.

“I want to do other things, too! I would only start by that,” Chan had said.

“Reasonable. I’m proud of you, Chan-ah,” Seungkwan had said. “So, did you ask him out?”

“Ask him out? I could barely introduce myself! How do I do that?”

“You just say, hey, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Chan had frowned. His palms were clammy. He didn’t have any experience asking anybody out.

Seungkwan just laughed. “That’s okay, you can work up to it,” he said. “Have you settled into your dorm alright, anyway?”

Now, a little over a year later, Chan is not cool at all about his crush on Yeonjun. Definitely not kissing him or holding his hand, either. Chan has gotten pretty good at casually running into him on campus and making small talk, though. He just hasn’t figured out how to take it further. Every time he tries to, he simply clams up. It’s embarrassing. He’s embarrassing. He’s got the worst case of pathetic pining gay panic syndrome.

Who could blame him, though, when Yeonjun is as cool and gorgeous as he is? Chan thinks he could watch him for hours, days on end and never grow tired of it. 

He usually finds Yeonjun on slow weekday mornings under a walnut tree on campus with his friends, and Chan usually finds a table on the little hill across from it to sit and pretend to study. Really, he just stares at Yeonjun. Watches him run his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face because the wind keeps messing it up. He does this while he listens to his friend speak with a laser-like focus that makes Chan shiver all over, just wondering what would it feel like to have Yeonjun’s complete attention like that. Or what would it feel to make him laugh, like his other friend does every time he opens his mouth. Yeonjun laughs so prettily, sometimes demurely covering his face with his hand. Chan has only ever seen him laugh from afar, so he’s not sure what it sounds like, but he’d like to know more than anything. He’d like to be close enough to hear him laugh, and also count his eyelashes and the moles on his face, and maybe run his thumb over the faded scars around his knees, the ones Chan has noticed only in passing. He wants to hear about his day, watch him paint in silence, watch him get dressed in the mornings. Chan bets he takes his time choosing his clothes for the day. He wants to be the one to take them off after they’ve both skipped class to have the dorm to themselves, to fuck tenderly in the middle of the afternoon.

Chan wants, and he wants, and he wants. 

He is startled out of his trance by a flash going off on his face.

“What the–oh. Hyung,” he says, greeting Wonwoo with a smile. He’s pointing one of his fancier looking cameras at him. “Did you just take a photo of me? ”

Wonwoo nods with a small smile, lowering the camera. “You were looking so… mesmerized,” he says, sitting on the bench next to Chan and looking over at Yeonjun under the walnut tree. “It figures, I guess.”

It makes Chan blush. He wets his lip. “I was just studying,” he says, looking down at the textbook he was pretending to read. Wonwoo smiles, his nose scrunching up a little.

“Sure.”

Chan bites his lip. “He’s wearing shorts,” he says, giving in quickly. It always comes with a sort of intoxicating rush, to speak about it freely and out loud.

Wonwoo hums, glancing back at Yeonjun. “Making the most out of the last days of summer. It’s kinda cool.”

“He is very cool,” Chan says, staring again. “And he’s got pretty legs. Pretty knees.”

Wonwoo laughs.

“I want him,” Chan says, trying and failing to stop it from bubbling up his throat and out his mouth.

“I know,” Wonwoo says, much too patiently. “Ah, you should tell him?”

“I will. I’m working up to it.”

“You’ve been working up to it for a while.”

“Well, this is it. I’m making it happen this semester,” he says decisively, then bites his lip. “Maybe I let it bleed out into next semester? But definitely before the school year is out. I have a game plan, sort of. It’s a list.”

“Really? I like your lists.”

Chan nods, taking his notebook and flipping the pages on to the last one. “There are a few gaps, but the bottom line is: I get the boy.”

Wonwoo laughs good-naturedly again, and leans in when Chan tilts the notebook so he can read the list scribbled in Chan’s neat handwriting.

Wonwoo takes a moment to read it through, then he looks up at Chan, a smile still clinging to his face.

“What? Is it too stupid?” he asks, his voice coming out smaller than he intends.

“No, not stupid at all,” Wonwoo says. “It’s a good place to start.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. I just–- ah. May I?” Wonwoo asks, lightly tugging the pen from Chan’s grasp. Chan lets him take it, and Wonwoo pulls the notebook towards him. He starts making little notes, and again, Chan lets him.

He sighs, plopping down to rest his chin on his forearms over the table. He looks over to the walnut tree, and doesn’t see Yeonjun or his friends. His face falls, and he’s about to whine about it when–

“Hey, Channie!”

Chan jumps, then quickly spreads his arms out so Yeonjun hopefully can’t see the notebook from where he’s coming to a halt a few feet away. Wonwoo gets the hint and casually covers the page with his hands.

“Yeonjun! Hi!” Chan says, too loud and high even to his own ears. Yeonjun smiles.

“I hadn’t seen you since the semester started.”

“Ah. Yeah, it’s been busy, I guess, but I’ve been around! I’ve seen you, I–- I think, um. Anyway, how was your break?” he asks, words just stumbling over each other. Still, Yeonjun smiles.

“Pretty good, yeah. Chill. How about yours?”

“Pretty chill, yeah,” Chan says, rudely mimicking Yeonjun’s tone, completely unintentionally, and Yeonjun’s smile falters. Chan tries not to wince.

There’s a stale, dreadful pause, and Chan is racking his brain for something to say to save the conversation when Yeonjun smoothly saves it for them, because that is just shit Yeonjun does, and fuck, Chan likes him so much.

“I like your bracelets,” Yeonjun says, pointing at his wrist. “They look really cool.”

“Oh? Thanks,” Chan says, fiddling with the bracelets. They’re strappy faux leather — a gift from Hansol on his last birthday — and he feels a little ridiculous wearing them, but he tries. “I- I like your, ah, shorts,” he blurts out, just barely stopping himself from telling Yeonjun he likes his knees, which would’ve been disastrous since his next thought would’ve been, I want to kiss all over them.

It’s the right thing to say anyway, because Yeonjun lights up at the compliment. “Yeah? Thanks! I thrifted them, they were like 25,000 won,” he says proudly, tilting his hips a bit, showing them off. It’s completely adorable and Chan grins so wide, his cheeks hurt a little.

“That’s awesome,” he says, feeling something in his chest flutter like it does when climbing up to the highest point of a rollercoaster, when the cart tilts right before dropping.

Yeonjun grins back at him, bright and big and gorgeous, and the fluttering something in his chest goes whoosh and swish, and it drops and soars. “I’d say you could borrow them whenever, but I don’t think we’re the same size.”

It takes Chan a few seconds to feel like he can speak without throwing all up. “Y-yeah, I— I don’t think so.”

“I might go thrifting again next week, though. If I see anything like it, I could let you know,” he says tentatively.

“Oh. Yeah, I— that’s— I-I’d really like that.”

Yeonjun smiles and nods happily. “Okay, then, I’ll keep you posted, um. Will I see you around?”

Chan nods too fast. “Yeah! Always— I mean, I’m always, ah-– I mean, I’ll be around.”

That makes Yeonjun laugh, and shit, Chan is on a roll. It’s a beautiful, charming sound, and he wants to hear it again, and again and again and—

He doesn’t get to. Yeonjun just nods and excuses himself because he has class. He bows politely at Wonwoo, who barely glances up to acknowledge it from where he’s still hunched over Chan’s notebook, and then he’s walking away, with that lovely sway of his hips.

Chan sighs loudly as he watches him go. Wonwoo looks up at him.

“Why didn’t you offer to go with him?”

“What? To class?” Chan asks, still looking at Yeonjun walk across campus.

“Thrifting. Why didn’t you ask him if you could come? It sounded like an in,” Wonwoo says with a shrug. 

“Did it?” Chan asks, turning so fast his neck clicks. “You think he wanted me to go with him?”

Wonwoo shrugs again. “I don’t really know, Chan-ah, but maybe? It seems he likes you.”

Chan fights the urge to yank his hair out. “Don’t just say that.”

Wonwoo gives him a sheepish look. “Um, I’m sorry?” 

“No, it’s– it’s just that– shit. I like him so much, like, so much, like, I can’t breathe about it sometimes,” he says, shaking his head. “Did you see how proud he was about how cheap those shorts were? He’s so weird, he’s so cute. I like him so much.” He lets his head drop to his folded arms above the table again. Wonwoo pats him lightly on the back.

“Fighting, Chan-ah.”

It’s not until later, when he’s studying for real in his favorite spot at the library, that Chan comes across his list again. It’s been filled out by Wonwoo, and he’s also doodled an otter with hearts for eyes and a flower on his head, labeled it, otter-ly enamored. Chan laughs out loud, then takes a careful look at the list.

 💘

Chan is locked out of his dorm for the fourth time since the semester started two weeks ago, which he thinks is a little excessive. For a second, he considers knocking on the door until his roommate is forced to come out and ruin whatever hook up he’s in the middle of. It’s never the same girl, which is not something Chan is about to judge him on. He won’t even judge how often it seems to happen. At the very least, he would just like to be warned in advance. Isn’t that basic roommate etiquette?

“Yes, it is,” Seungkwan says from his little kitchenette, where he’s tampering with his run-down coffee machine. “Aish, Hansol-ah, the coffee machine is stuck again!”

“We still have instant in the cupboard. I’ll fix the machine when I’m done with this in just a minute,” Hansol’s response comes immediately even if he’s wearing his huge-ass noise-canceling headphones where he’s sprawled on the couch typing on his phone.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “When he’s done flirting he means,” he tells Chan before reaching out for the instant coffee.

“How do you know he’s flirting?”

“That’s his flirting face,” Seungkwan says with a shrug. “He’s been at it a lot these days. I bet they’re official before winter rolls around.”

Chan hums, looking back at Hansol, who’s just staring intently at his phone, which to Chan doesn’t mean a thing. He saw him the other day place an order for new underwear sporting the same exact expression. 

“Anyway, you need to get your roommate reassigned or something,” Seungkwan says. “Is he still coming back during the middle of the night on random week days?”

“Yeah,” Chan says. “He always is sure to turn on every light and be super loud about it.”

“What an asshole,” Seungkwan says, stirring his instant coffee with a vengeance. 

“Well, yeah, but I don’t want to move around anymore,” he whines. “It’d be the third time in two years.”

“I know, Chan, but it’s getting to be too much, isn’t it?” he asks, then immediately gasps, eyes going round and shimmery the way they do when he’s about to try and convince Chan of something. “Move in with us! Our lease is up in December. We can find a bigger place.”

Chan fiddles with the empty sachet of Seungkwan’s coffee. “My parents would never pay for that. They like me in the dorms.”

“Uh, get a job?” Seungkwan blinks at him, before sipping from his coffee, then making a face. “It tastes like ass. Hansol-ah, it tastes like ass!”

“Whose ass?” Hansol’s mouth does quirk up at that.

“Aish,” Seungkwan says weakly. His face pinks up.

“What?” Chan asks, his own mouth tilting into a smile. “Whose ass have you been eating?”

“Don’t be crass!”

“Fine. Who have you been seeing?”

“No one,” Seungkwan chirps, turning around to randomly wipe the already spotless counter clean, which is telling enough. “Why? Who have you been seeing?”

Chan clicks his tongue. “Is that a joke?” He almost pouts.

Seungkwan laughs. “Yes. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Chan folds his arms across his chest. “You know, if I wanted to hear about getting a job and be reminded of all the people I’m not dating, I’d go to my parents’.”

“Eugh, okay, no need to get all bratty on me,” Seungkwan says. “You’re here because your roommate is an asshole.”

“And because you’re usually nice to me.”

“I just fed you!”

“Right, I’m sorry. I’m wound up,” Chan says, pushing his hair out of his face, and taking a deep breath. “I had a stupid long day, and I’m already swamped with assignments and I haven’t seen Yeonjun in days, and I miss looking at his mouth and his knees, and I just wanted to go to bed and I couldn’t even do that.”

Seungkwan tilts his head. “It’s getting chilly outside for knees, isn’t it?”

“Yeah and they flush so pretty and pink in the cold,” Chan says, and he does pout then.

Seungkwan pouts back. “Aw, and you miss them, and you’ve had a rough start to the semester, poor baby, come here,” he says, putting his mug down and dragging Chan into a hug. Chan lets him and sighs into it.

“You know what I think you should do?” Seungkwan asks after a minute of gentle hair petting.

“What?”

“Get a job, move in with us and ask for Yeonjun’s number.”

“Oh my god.” Chan tries to extricate himself from Seungkwan but fails miserably as Seungkwan clutches on to him. 

“Listen, I love you! I don’t say this to be annoying! I genuinely think your mood and your sleeping schedule and your whole life would benefit from moving out of the dorms and finally asking your boy out!”

“I’m working on it!” Chan says, pulling away. “I have a list.”

Seungkwan opens his mouth to say something else when Hansol walks in.

“Lists are cool,” he says, heading straight to the coffee machine.

“Doing things is cool,” Seungkwan says.

“How long did it take you to get the hang of dating when you came out?” Hansol asks casually, frowning down at the machine.

Seungkwan puffs out his cheeks, going pink. “That’s not— I didn’t—I—,” he exhales. “Okay, you’re right! I’m sorry, Channie. No more meddling, okay? You can take your time, and I’ll support you,” he says earnestly.

“He just likes fixing shit,” Hansol explains.

Chan hums. “I know,” he says, because even if Hansol and Seungkwan have become eerily close, he’s known Seungkwan for far longer than Hansol has. “I don’t need fixing though,” he tells Seungkwan. “I just need a good night’s sleep.”

“Stay over! I’ll make up the couch for you,” Seungkwan says, already trying to fix it. 

Chan and Hansol share a small smile.

Sleep doesn’t come that easy on their made up couch, but Chan appreciates the kindness. He’s curled up on it, dicking around on his phone after Seungkwan has gone to bed, and Hansol has excused himself off to his bedroom, when he sees it.

Yeonjun’s Instagram story, posted 36 seconds ago (right after a closeup of him in bed with his face bare and his hair all soft, which, honestly, feels criminal). It’s a shared post from the art department’s account announcing registration for a drawing workshop with a guest artist Chan’s never heard of. Yeonjun has captioned it with a so excited!!!! ❤️

Cute.

Chan doesn’t think much of it and pulls up the link to sign up, then rolls over to get some sleep, and when he wakes up the next morning, there’s a welcome email with a list of supplies required for the 5-week pencil drawing workshop he is now signed up for. He swallows and pulls up his hyung’s chat.

🐸 hyung

you attached a photo [7:47]

you [7:47]

hi hyung

so i signed up to this thing

and i need to buy those things

🐸 hyung [7:49]

why did you sign up for a drawing workshop?

you [7:47]

just because

🐸 hyung [7:48]

uh huh. 

well i was just heading out, i’ll drive you to the store where i buy all my stuff

can you be ready in like thirty mins?

you [7:48]

sure!!

thanks hyung

“Is this stupidly expensive for pencils to you?” Chan asks, shoving the pencils in Hansol’s face. Hansol takes half a step back to look and make a face at the pencils.

“Yeah, dude. Why don’t you just get, like, the regular yellow ones?”

“These are the ones on the requirements list,” Chan mutters, frowning down at the pencils. 

Hansol hums. “D’you really think anyone will notice?”

Chan shrugs. “Maybe not? I just want to do it right, though. Might as well if I’m already making the effort.”

He drops the graphite pencils set in his basket along with his stupidly expensive paper sketchbook.

When he looks up, Hansol is grinning sideways at him. “You’re down bad damn terrible.”

Chan’s face heats up a little even if he knows it’s true, and he knows all his friends know, too. He’s made sure they know. He narrows his eyes at Hansol. “You’re one to talk,” he says. “You think I’m gonna believe you got up at eight in the morning to come to an art supply store for me?”

Hansol’s grin twitches a little, but he keeps it plastered on his face. “Whatever,” he mutters, looking away from Chan to focus on the real reason he’s all awake and dressed in actual clothes on a Saturday before noon.

“Look, new colors came in! They’re really pretty,” Minghao says, walking over to them with a basket of his own, filled to the brim with tubes of paint and… more painting stuff? Minghao quickly pulls it all out and shows it off. He’s got about six shades of blue that look too similar to Chan, but Hansol is nodding along.

“They are really pretty,” he agrees, fingers carefully sliding over the paint tube in Minghao’s hand. “I like this one. It looks like the nail polish you were wearing the other day. What are you going to paint with them?”

He looks up intensely at Minghao, and it makes Minghao smile, subdued but sincere. Endeared. “I don’t know yet.”

Hansol nods like he understands. “Your best ones always start out like that.”

Minghao laughs a little, airy and soft. “Stop it.”

“I mean it.”

Chan fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Okay, I’ll go pay for this and get out here. See you two later?”

They barely turn to acknowledge Chan, which is whatever. Good for Hansol! He’s been only a little less pathetic about his own crush, which has evidently worked for Hansol if he’s got Minghao smiling like that. Chan can’t guess how or why, but he’s happy for his friend. Whatever.

“It’s because Hansolie is all low-key sociable. He has crazy good conversation game. He’s really likeable like that,” Seungkwan tells Chan when he inevitably complains about it in the dining hall where he later finds Seungkwan and Wonwoo.

“He just called me unlikeable, socially inept and a shitty conversationalist in, like, a single breath,” Chan lists off with his fingers, turning to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo’s mouth quirks the tiniest bit up the way it does whenever he’s trying not to laugh at something, then he makes an off-tune imitation of a sad trombone. Chan can’t help but laugh, and Seungkwan almost chokes on his kimbap.

“I didn’t call you any of those things, aish! You asked why Hansol was getting some, unrelated to you, and I answered!” Seungkwan yelps, waving a hand at Chan. “I thought you had a plan, anyway.”

“I have a list,” Chan corrects. “To ground myself, otherwise I get all, ah.” He makes a vague gesture with his hands around his head, hoping it gets his point across. Seungkwan and Wonwoo nod like it does.

“Crazed,” Seungkwan says, at the same time Wonwoo says, “Scattered.”

Chan frowns, then Wonwoo clears his throat. “That’s good,” he offers. “It’s a good list, Chan-ah.”

That makes Chan smile a little. “Well, you wrote half of it, so.”

“What?” Seungkwan pipes in.

“I really didn’t,” Wonwoo says with a shrug. “I just filled some gaps.”

“What? Why?” Seungkwan tries again.

“I was just trying to help,” Wonwoo says, his already deep voice getting coarser.

Seungkwan’s face twists into the complicated expression he gets when he doesn’t even know how to start telling you off. “Is that a good idea, hyung?” he settles on. “I think Channie should handle this on his own. It’s kind of personal.”

It’s rich coming from Seungkwan, who’s a distinguished busybody. Chan frowns again.

Wonwoo shrugs and slurps from his noodle bowl. “If Chan wants me to stay out of it, he can tell me so himself.”

“What? No!” Chan cuts in. “It was really helpful, hyung! Thank you,” he says diplomatically, and it gets Wonwoo to smile at him again. He smiles back.

Seungkwan gives them both a disappointed look. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times. “Okay, I’m– I should go. I have a thing I have to do,” he says, patting his mouth clean with a napkin, then wrapping his half-eaten kimbap and shoving it inside his bag.

“What are you even mad about?” Chan asks.

“I’m not mad! I really have things to do,” he says, not meeting Chan’s eyes. “I told Mingyu I’d go shopping with him.”

“Shopping?”

“Yeah, for a gift. For his sister,” he says. “Good luck with your art class, though! And with your Yeonjunie. You’ll be okay. You’re likeable and sociable and cute and all the things I said about Hansol, too, okay?”

“Okay,” Chan says, a little deflated, not really buying it.

Seungkwan sighs and ruffles his hair. “I mean it!” he assures him. “See you around, okay? Good luck with your computer assignment thing, Wonwoo-hyung,” he says, and then he’s rushing off, and as soon as he is out of sight, Chan heaves a dramatic sigh and slumps against Wonwoo’s side.

“Hyung,” he whines. 

“Channie,” Wonwoo says, still kind of hunched over the now empty ramen bowl he’d been eating, but he weasels an arm around Chan’s body for comfort.

“Do you think I’m likeable?” he asks. “Like, in a romantic sense.”

Wonwoo pushes his glasses up with the hand that is currently not wrapped around Chan. “I… think you’re a likeable person in any sense,” he says carefully. Chan pouts.

“Are you just saying that?”

“I’m– no. I wouldn’t just say that.”

Chan smiles a little against Wonwoo’s shoulder. The fabric of his shirt is soft, and it smells like the floral softener Mingyu uses for their laundry.

“I think Yeonjun likes me just fine,” he admits after a moment. “Just not the way I want him to. It all feels too polite with him, you know? I– I don’t know how to break past that.”

Wonwoo shifts a little, and Chan lets up, so Wonwoo can turn to him.

“That’s why you signed up for this class, right? To get closer to him?”

“I– well, yeah. I guess.”

“Then let him get to know you. Let him see you smile and talk about the things you like, it’ll make him smile and talk about the things he likes. Ask him about the clothes’ thing, it sounded interesting. Compliment his drawings, or his art, I don’t really know what he does—” 

“He sculpts and paints sometimes. He posts it on Instagram,” Chan says. “But I don’t know a thing about that and I don’t want to sound like an idiot the way Hansol does.”

“Hansol doesn’t sound like an idiot,” Wonwoo says. “That’s the thing, Chan-ah. You don’t have to pretend that you’re cool or indifferent or that you’re taking this workshop because you were suddenly interested in drawing. Let him know you’re there because he is interested in it. He’ll get the hint.”

“You think?” Chan asks, eyes wide and his heart beating fast, just at the mere suggestion. “Isn’t that like way too intense?”

“It– it’s earnest, and earnest looks good on you, Chan,” is what Wonwoo says, then quickly clears his throat. “And anyway, he’ll know you’re interested in him and then the ball will be in his court. If he’s interested back, he’ll let you know, and you’ll just take it from there.” 

Chan bites his lip, his mind already running through every scenario and every way he could ruin it, just ruin all his chances for good, and Chan always hoped that if it didn’t work out the way he wants it, he and Yeonjun could at the very least be friends, because thinking about not getting Yeonjun at all, just makes Chan feel a little out of breath and like he might—

“Hey,” Wonwoo says softly, briefly tapping his fingers against Chan’s chin. “He is just a guy.”

“I– I know. I just– I’ve never liked someone this much,” Chan says quietly. It feels oddly vulnerable to admit this to someone he’s been friends with for years and who knows him inside and out, but Chan feels so nervous saying it.

Wonwoo gives him a weak sort of smile. “He’s still just a guy, Chan-ah. You’ll be okay,” he says, then lets go of him and slides away on the bench. He’s not looking at Chan anymore. “Sorry, I should really go, too. I have an assignment to work on.”

Chan pushes his hair out of his face, trying to shake the prickly feeling of vulnerability. He hums. “How many assignments are you working on this weekend? I got three papers.”

“Five, but they’re not all–”

“Five? Hyung, your courses are tough shit.”

Wonwoo smiles again, a real wide one this time, and does meet Chan’s eyes for a second. “Am I tough, do you think?”

Chan grins and tilts his head, examining him. His hair is sticking up everywhere like it does any time he doesn’t style it with tons of product and his glasses are a little crooked from the time he tripped and fell on his ass over them. He has a small stain of Buldak sauce on the bridge of his nose, and another one on the corner of his mouth, and his long fingers keep fidgeting with the family ring he always wears. Chan can’t keep his smile from spreading wide and taking over his face.  “Yeah,” he says. “So tough. You probably have all those courses shaking in their boots.”

Wonwoo laughs, the loud cackle that always startles Chan a little. “You bet,” he says. “Um, see you around?”

Chan smiles and nods, letting him walk away with Buldak sauce on his face.

💘

He is nervous walking into his first day at the workshop. 

He’s got his expensive drawing stuff carefully tucked into his bag, and he’s wearing one of his less gym bro looking sweaters according to Seungkwan, but Chan still feels out of place among all the art students.

Chan is quick to find Yeonjun, though. It’s force of habit by now, always looking for him in a crowd, always finding him, Chan’s attention dragged to him like a moth to a flame. He’s sitting quietly in a corner, pulling out his own supplies from that huge, unpractical fuzzy tote bag he loves carrying around during the fall months, and luckily for Chan, the seat next to him is empty.

He tries not to overthink it and just walks over to Yeonjun. “Hi, is anyone sitting here?”

Yeonjun looks up, eyes wide and pretty. “Channie? What are you doing here?”

His smile falters. “Oh. I– I mean, I just– I wanted to– I’m signed up. For the workshop,” he finishes lamely, chickening out of explaining he’s there because of him. Yeonjun blinks at him some more. “Sorry, I can sit somewhere else,” Chan says, defeated, after a beat too long.

“What? No, no,” Yeonjun says quickly, catching up. “Please sit! Sorry, I was just surprised to see you here. None of my friends are taking this workshop, so I didn’t think I’d know anyone.”

“I thought all art students just knew each other,” he blurts out.

“Do you know every sociology major?”

“Ah,” Chan exhales out a nervous laugh, something inside fluttering at knowing Yeonjun remembers his major. “No, I don’t. That’s fair.”

Yeonjun smiles up at him, so pretty and sincere, it sparks heat that spreads all throughout Chan’s chest. “You can sit here,” he prompts again, patting the seat next to him.

“Oh. Right,” Chan says, scrambling to sit down. His ears burn as he takes out a notebook to take notes. Chan usually takes notes on his laptop, but not a single person has a laptop out in the room. Does anyone even take notes in a drawing workshop? Do they just… draw? Yeonjun only has his sketchbook and a single pencil out on the table while he leisurely scrolls on his phone. Chan swallows down and takes his sketchbook out, too. That catches Yeonjun’s attention. He smiles, and Chan can feel heat creeping up his neck.

“Why are you here, though? I didn’t know you liked drawing.”

His first instinct, the one eager to please, to fit in, is to lie and say that he does, to make a whole charming story up, but that has never worked out when talking to Yeonjun. Chan simply can’t speak to him the way he does to other people. 

And then there’s Wonwoo’s kind advice to him to be sincere, ringing determinedly in his head. He clears his throat.

“I– I don’t,” he says. “I mean, I don’t not like it. I just– I’ve never done it before, but, ah, I saw you posted about this workshop, and you sounded excited about it, and I had a gap in my schedule and I– I thought it could be fun. I guess.”

Yeonjun’s face brightens up. “Ah, really? That’s so cool,” he chirps. “Now I hope you enjoy it, or I’ll feel responsible for bringing you here.”

“No, no, please don’t!” he says, fretting, then realizes Yeonjun was probably just teasing. “Um, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Yeonjun gives him an apprehensive look. “Ah, okay, then.”

Chan tries to smile reassuringly, but his face feels tight in his self-awareness. They stare at each other, only sort of, almost smiling, when Chan bites his lip and finally looks down. He’s met with Yeonjun’s pretty knees and his run-down tote bag lying askew on the floor. He can’t help the little breathless laugh that spurts out of him.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just– I– ah.” I missed your knees, he doesn’t say. “I like your bag. Did you thrift it, too?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun says, looking pleased about it.

Chan hums. “Do you thrift all your clothes?”

Yeonjun purses his mouth a little. “Well, not all of them,” he says. “But I resolved to buy less firsthand clothing at the beginning of the year, and I’ve been doing pretty good.”

Chan blinks at him. “Oh. Wow, that’s really cool.”

Yeonjun laughs and tucks his hair behind his ear. “I guess? It’s cheaper and more sustainable, at least. And, really, I just enjoy a good thrift shop.”

“I’ve never been to one,” Chan blurts, then immediately feels too forward, like he’s fishing for an invitation, and Wonwoo’s advice be damned, he continues blurting out shit to cover it up. “I– I actually haven’t bought any clothes this year at all. N-not that it’s a competition, god, I didn’t mean it that way. I just thought it’s interesting that you– well, obviously, you like clothes and buy them often, and you always look so cool, and I– I’ve worn these jeans almost every day this week. God, that sounds gross. I promise they are clean, and I don’t do it often at all, it’s just that—”

“Good afternoon, everyone,” someone, the artist, presumably, speaks, calling attention to the front, and Chan is so relieved he might cry. He turns away from Yeonjun, who’d been staring at him with that same apprehensive look Chan has become too familiar with, and buries his face in his hands. His ears are burning.

He studiously ignores Yeonjun for the rest of the hour, and when the artist’s TA dismisses them, Chan rushes out of there without turning back, despite Yeonjun calling his name.

“You ignored him?” Wonwoo asks, voice crackling through the phone, as Chan walks over to his dorm room a few minutes later.

“I didn’t know what else to do! I completely embarrassed myself! He looked at me like I was a complete idiot. I might be a complete idiot, actually.”

“You’re not. You just have a crush on someone.”

“I’ve had crushes on people before! I never lost my head over them!”

“Well, you said it yourself, you’ve never liked someone this much. It’s understandable.”

Chan sighs, fighting the urge to stomp his feet. “Okay, hyung, what do I do?”

There’s a pause, and Chan feels crazy because he’s about to physically throw himself on the floor and beg, when Wonwoo clears his throat.

“You apologize,” he says. “When is the next workshop?”

“Friday,” Chan says. “I can’t wait that long. I’ll drive myself crazy.”

Wonwoo laughs. “Chan-ah, that’s three days away.”

“It’s too long!”

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Do you have his phone number?”

“No,” Chan pouts. “We follow each other on Instagram, though.”

“Can you send private messages through there?”

That makes Chan laugh, and it’s nice because it releases some tension. “Yes, ahjussi.”

“Okay, so send him a message. Tell him you’re sorry for rambling and for ignoring him after, and just— listen, Chan, you have to be honest. Tell him you were simply nervous to talk to him.”

“He’ll want to know why.”

“Then tell him.”

“I– I can’t. It’s too fast. I really, really can’t, hyung. I’ve never told someone I like them before,” he says, voice getting higher by the second. 

“Okay,” Wonwoo says, more patiently than Chan probably deserves. “Then just do a half-truth. Tell him you think he’s really cool, and you are just a little intimidated to speak to him, but you want to get over it, and then ask if he can give you another chance.”

“Oh, god,” Chan says, stomach turning.

“C’mon, it’s a simple message,” Wonwoo says encouragingly. “You can write it and send it to me first if you like.”

“Okay,” he says, relief washing over him. He can do that. “Thank you, hyung. I– I really appreciate all this.”

“Any time, Chan-ah,” he says, deep voice coming tender through the phone. 

It takes some back and forth, Wonwoo stopping Chan from apologizing ten times in a single paragraph, but they come up with a message. Chan hits send before he can overthink it more.

yeonjun ❯

cyjxo9

SEP 24 AT 12:26 AM

leejchan.99

hey, yeonjun! 

i just wanted to apologize for being weird at the workshop earlier…. i realized i came across rude and that was not my intention at all!!!! i was just very nervous. i think you’re pretty cool, and it’s a little intimidating sometimes. if you still want to talk to me, i promise i can do better, but no pressure!! 

i hope you have a good night!! 

SEP 24 AT 12:48 AM

cyjxo9 

channie!

i really appreciate you clearing the air like that!

but don’t worry about it 🥺

really, i’m not cool at all keke

i get nervous too

leejchan.99

really?

cyxo9

yeah…

i think i’m more shy than you think

but i like talking to you

we can try again, yeah?

leejchan.99

i’d really like that

cyxo9

😊

see you on friday?

you left your pen, i tried calling you, but you bolted out of there

leejchan.99

🤦‍♂️

i’m so so sorry

cyxo9

nooo it’s okay

really

leejchan.99

okay 🥺

i’ll see you on friday then

cyxo9

😊

have a good night, channie 🌙

🤓hyung

you [00:50]

hyung!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

it worked!!!!!

tysm 🥺

🤓hyung [00:56]

I’m glad, Chan-ah

You should try to get some sleep now

you [01:04]

you too 💚

🤓hyung [01:09]

💜💜

Friday rolls around, and again, Chan walks into the workshop, barely keeping it together from the nerves. Yeonjun, who’s already sitting in his seat at the corner, spots him first this time, though. He smiles at Chan and waves him over.

“Hi, Channie.”

“Hi, Yeonjun,” Chan says, voice soft and blush creeping up on his face. “Ah, how are you doing?”

Yeonjun’s smile widens. “I barely slept last night catching up on assignments, but hanging in there,” he says, waving his almost empty iced Americano cup. “You?”

He bites his lip, fighting the urge of his instinctual, good, thank you, and letting the conversation die out. “Ah, same, actually. Well, I wrapped up before midnight and then my roommate woke me up by coming in at 2 am and I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you at the dorms?”

Chan nods.

“What building are you in?”

“923?”

Yeonjun hums. “Cool. My friend is in 924.”

“You live off campus, right?” Chan asks, his fingers aching to fidget with the hem of his sweater, but he keeps his hands still on the table.

He nods. “I rent a room in a house not too far from here,” he says. “It’s like seven of us in a five bedroom, so it’s sort of a bargain.”

“Oh. Do you have your own room?” It’s something Chan has often wondered about, mostly late at night when he’s trying to imagine what would it be like if Yeonjun ever invited him back to his place. 

Yeonjun grins. “I do. I got pretty lucky, really,” he says, then tilts his head. “Well, I guess it depends on how you see it. My friend Wooyoung and his roommate recently started dating and my other friend Mingi wishes he was dating his roommate, so it’s convenient for them.”

“Oh. Are they all guys?’ Chan asks, his eyebrows twitching a little.

“Ah, yeah,” Yeonjun says, his smile faltering. He gives Chan that apprehensive look, as if Chan might somehow turn out to be a bigot.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

Something like relief flashes across Yeonjun’s face, and it’s quickly replaced by something warm, like endeared amusement. “I– yeah, I kinda figured.”

“Really?” Chan asks, not even trying to hide his surprise. He doesn’t get that often, or at all, really. He’s had to come out to a lot of people over the last two years. “How did you know?”

Yeonjun laughs softly, then it dies in his throat when he seems to realize Chan is serious. “Oh. Um, just a pretty attuned gaydar, I guess?”

Chan smiles a little. “Ah. Yeah, t-that makes sense.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I–”

“No, no. It’s cool. Super cool,” he says. “It’s not a secret or anything. Well, except when I go home, sort of.”

Yeonjun gives him a sympathetic look. “Yeah. I get that.”

Chan bites his lip again. It’s true. He’s not closeted anymore. He doesn’t care who knows he’s gay, as long as his parents don’t find out before he figures out a way to tell them, but Chan isn’t very loud about it, either. Outside his immediate friend group, he doesn’t talk about liking boys, and he doesn’t wear a pride pin on his backpack like Yeonjun does, which is something Chan really admires about him. He wants to tell him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times to say it, but he doesn’t know how to start.

Then the artist is walking in and calling attention to the front. Yeonjun offers him another smile before turning his attention to the class.

💘

“You told him you’re gay?”

“Yeah. Was that too forward, you think? I just didn’t want him to think I was a homophobe or something.”

Mingyu laughs. “He wouldn’t think that, c’mon.”

“But was it too forward?”

“Aish, you have to stop worrying about that,” Seungkwan says. “You should be forward if you want to date him at all.”

Chan pouts.

“It was good, Chan-ah,” Wonwoo says. “It leaves no room for misunderstanding.”

Seungkwan snorts. Chan ignores him and smiles, pleased. He’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet of Wonwoo’s and Mingyu’s apartment. Wonwoo is sitting next to him, looking down at his Nintendo Switch, and Mingyu and Seungkwan are sharing the couch behind them.

“Also, it kind of sounded like he isn’t seeing anyone, right? That’s good,” Mingyu says, mouth pressed to the mouth of his beer bottle.

“I– I think so,” Chan says. “I mean, I’m pretty sure he is single. He posts a lot of photos, and he’s never posted something resembling a boyfriend. I don’t imagine he’d be quiet about that.”

“Maybe it’s the boyfriend who wants to keep it quiet,” Seungkwan says.

Mingyu clicks his tongue and kicks Seungkwan on the leg. “There is no boyfriend.”

“You don’t know that! I’m just trying to think of all the possibilities!”

“Oh god,” Chan says. “You think he might have a closeted boyfriend or something?”

“No,” Mingyu and Wonwoo say at the same time. Chan turns to Wonwoo. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Mingyu’s opinion, but he knows his reasoning behind it is purely hopeful. Wonwoo, instead, will be rational and objective.

“No?” he asks.

Wonwoo looks up from his game. “I think he likes you, Chan-ah,” he says. “I think he’s letting you take your time to come around and ask him out, but I can’t imagine it’d be unwelcome, I–”

“Hyung,” Seungkwan cuts in. “C’mon, none of us personally know Yeonjun. Let’s not assume too much. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I think you should have more faith in everyone,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo hums like he agrees. “And most importantly, trust that everyone is an adult that knows how to handle their own feelings.”

“I want to trust everyone! I just don’t think everyone being an adult is a guarantee that everyone is looking after their own feelings, let alone other people’s feelings, which is what I’m worried about!”

“I think everyone—”

“What– who are you talking about?” Chan snaps, suddenly fed up with their habit of talking about Chan as if he’s a child that is not in the room with them.

“Everyone!” Seungkwan yelps. “Anyway, when is Seokmin-hyung getting here? Have you texted him? I want to watch the movie.”

“He said he was on his way,” Mingyu says. “Is Hansol not coming?”

Seungkwan snorts. “He was out with Myungho-hyung, we lost him for the rest of the day.”

“Is it official yet?” Chan asks, letting them get away with the sudden, obviously intended change of topic for now.

“I don’t think they’ve talked about it in those terms, but hyung has been sleeping over more days than not.”

“Ah. Good for them,” Chan says, failing to hide the little bitter bite to his tone. Mingyu and Seungkwan laugh.

“You’ll get your turn, Channie,” Mingyu says, leaning in to ruffle his hair, then handing him his first beer of the night

Movie night quickly turns into impromptu noraebang, as it often does when Seungkwan and Seokmin are around. 

They finish watching the first movie (a musical in the first place), and when they can’t agree on another movie to watch, Seokmin just pulls up his favorite show tune to start them off. 

Chan joins in for a few songs, more a testament to the hazy, little mind-numbing spell clouding over him after a few beers, than anything else. He lets Seungkwan pick out a song for him, and he ends up serenading a very off-tune rendition of Park Hyoshin’s Wild Flower to a flustered Wonwoo who can’t even meet Chan’s eyes without bursting into giggles at how ridiculous Chan must look. Then Seokmin and Seungkwan start belting real high notes and Chan sits it out, curling on the couch with Mingyu while they cheer them on. 

It’s a while before Chan notices that Wonwoo never came back from the bathroom after he sang to him.

“I’m getting another one,” he tells Mingyu, gesturing at his empty beer bottle when Seokmin and Seungkwan are distracted trying to agree on a duet. Mingyu just nods. 

Chan goes over to the kitchen, and his head feels only a little heavy, and his legs feel only a little like jell-o, and the apartment’s lights are only a little too bright, making it hard to focus on much, but he manages to get the last beer from the fridge.

Then, on his way back, he wanders over to Wonwoo’s bedroom instead of the living room. The door is slightly ajar, and the light is on, so Chan takes it as fine to peek inside.

Wonwoo is sitting against his bed frame, earphones on, and looking down at his Nintendo. He looks up and smiles when he notices Chan hovering at the door.

“You’ve had enough of us already?”

Wonwoo shakes his head, taking his earphones out. “I just needed a little quiet.”

Chan nods, he understands. They can be pretty loud. “Sorry, I’ll go–”

“No, Chan-ah,” Wonwoo says quickly. “C’mere,” he prompts, patting his comforter next to him.

His bed does look really soft.

Chan smiles, walking over to it. He downs about half of his beer and sets it down on the table before sitting down. Wonwoo watches him with warm, glowing amusement in his eyes behind his glasses. 

“Are you drunk?”

Chan shakes his head. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“I am!” he insists, but he can’t help swaying to the side when he turns to look at Wonwoo. Wonwoo laughs, his nose scrunching up.

“Just c’mere,” he says, tugging Chan’s sleeve and pulling him down on the bed. Chan lets go, and makes a breathy, content noise when his head hits Wonwoo’s pillow. Wonwoo lies down next to him.

“Soft,” he says, barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says. “It’s all Mingyu’s detergent and fabric softener.”

Chan hums, flipping to his side and furrowing his brow to focus on Wonwoo’s face. Wonwoo turns to look at him, a slow smile breaking across his face. Chan can’t help but smile back. Wonwoo looks nice up close. Well, he looks nice from afar, too. It’s just that this—his rumpled and soft-looking hair, the texture of his skin finally clear from his dermatologist’s treatments, dark eyes all focused on Chan—is so lovely. For a second, Chan has to fight the urge to run a finger along his long, straight, beautiful nose. A stray impulse from all that time ago when Chan was so gone over him.

He swallows and turns over to face the ceiling, then closes his eyes to clear his head. Not a brilliant move since the first thing that comes to mind when he tries a little desperately to conjure thoughts of literally anything else is Yeonjun. His plush mouth, the mole under his eye, his sharp cheekbones, wanting to run a finger along his beautiful button nose. He opens his mouth without thinking about it, and barely catches himself before he can speak, Yeonjun’s name dying in his throat.

“You okay?” Wonwoo asks, voice low and deep rumbling so pleasingly in Chan’s ear.

“Yeah,” Chan says, without opening his eyes. “I just— I was about to— I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Wanting to talk about Yeonjun all the time,” he says. “You’ve been patient, and you’ve helped me out, but you must be tired of hearing about it.”

He hears Wonwoo swallow. “No,” he says. “I mean, I don’t mind. You can talk about whatever you want.”

Chan smiles. “It’s okay, hyung,” he says. “You can admit it’s annoying.”

“Has anyone told you it’s annoying?”

“No, but I can tell. Seungkwan-hyung is-”

“Seungkwan’s problem has nothing to do with you.”

Chan opens his eyes at that. Wonwoo is looking at him with a sort of conviction that almost makes him shiver.

“You’re hardly the first person to have a crush on someone, Jungchannie,” Wonwoo says, voice careful and tender. “You should hear Mingyu going on about— his, ah– the person he likes.”

“Mingyu-hyung likes someone?”

Wonwoo hums in an affirmative, not meeting Chan’s eyes anymore.

“Do I know them?”

Wonwoo laughs, then mimics zipping his mouth shut.

Chan pouts. “See, Mingyu is not going around talking about his crush to anyone who will listen! I’m annoying, I’m—”

“I think there’s a reason Mingyu doesn’t go around talking about it,” Wonwoo says. “And besides, we all know this is a big deal for you. It’s the first guy you’re pursuing after coming out, and it’s an intense feeling. Everyone understands, so please don’t hold back, okay?”

Chan purses his mouth. It doesn’t feel like Seungkwan understands sometimes, and Chan can’t ever figure out what his problem is. It irks him, but every time he tries asking about it, Seungkwan shuts him down. It will have to be an exercise in letting go, he supposes. Chan hates those.

“Okay,” he mumbles, and Wonwoo looks satisfied with it. “Can I ask you something, though?”

“Sure.”

“Do you like someone?”

Wonwoo’s smile drops. “Me?”

Chan nods. “You’ve given me some pretty good advice, and it’s all worked out great, really. So, I’m just wondering if that’s because it’s worked for you, too.”

“Um, well— I haven’t dated in a while,” he says, not looking at Chan. “So it’s not really like I’ve been following my own advice a lot.”

“So there’s no girl that you like right now?”

Wonwoo’s eyes shoot up to his then. His mouth parts. “Girl?”

Chan nods. Wonwoo stares at him, eyes wide and mouth still agape. He closes it.

“Ah, no. No girl,” he says, then clears his throat. “Not… a girl.”

It takes a minute for it to click together in Chan’s foggy head. “Oh. Oh. I didn’t know– I’m sorry– I–”

“You didn’t know?”

“Well, no. I’ve only seen you date girls before, and you’ve never told me, hyung!”

Wonwoo blinks. “Right. Yeah, well. I guess I haven’t.”

“Is it, like, new?”

“What? Me liking guys?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, no.”

“Okay,” Chan says, clumsily trying to recalibrate years of knowing Wonwoo in his head. Shit, if Chan would’ve known back then when he had that stupid crush, it would’ve been– he doesn’t know what it would’ve been. Maybe it’s better that he didn’t know. Anyway, it’s stupid. The straight until proven otherwise mentality, right? It’s his fault, too. “Sorry for assuming,” he offers.

“No, you’re good. I don’t go around talking about it.”

“Yeah,” he says, he gets it. “Okay, so… you like a guy?”

Wonwoo gives him a small subdued smile, but doesn’t offer anything else.

“Okay, and you’re… not dating him,” he tries to fill the gaps on his own. “Why? Is he, like, straight? Or older? Is he a TA? Or god, a professor? Is he married?”

Wonwoo laughs. “No, he’s none of that.”

“What’s the problem, then?” he asks, impatient but also just sad. He can’t imagine whoever this guy is not falling for Wonwoo.

“It’s not a problem,” Wonwoo says quietly. “It’s all good. He just doesn’t see me that way, and he’s in love with someone else.”

“Oh, hyung,” Chan says, feeling dangerously like he might cry.

“No, no, Jungchannie, it’s alright,” he says. “There’s no drama. I’m fine, as long as he’s fine.”

“But– have you tried telling him?” Chan asks, and oh, no, his voice is wavering, and his throat feels too tight.

Wonwoo laughs. “Chan-ah, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not– it’s just–”

“Channie! There you are, we thought we lost you,” Mingyu says then, poking his head in. 

“You can’t lose me because I’m not your child or your pet,” Chan whines, sitting up too quickly and immediately feeling dizzy. 

“Woah, careful,” Wonwoo says, sitting up and putting a hand on Chan’s arm to steady him.

“I’m not drunk,” Chan insists.

“Sounds like something drunk Chan would say,” Mingyu says, grinning dumbly and stepping into the room.

“I am fine,” Chan says again, jumping off the bed and almost diving face-first into the floor, and yeah, okay. “I’m a little bit drunk.”

Mingyu and Wonwoo laugh and Chan is about to laugh too, but gets the violent urge to throw up instead. Mingyu’s smile wipes from his face.

“N-not on the carpet,” he rushes to say, hands flying up in a pleading gesture. “Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom,” he’s saying as he leads Chan to the bathroom, where he pets his back when Chan spills his guts.

He doesn’t remember much after that, except maybe Wonwoo’s warm hands on his face as he makes him drink a glass of water, Mingyu’s laughter, Seungkwan and Seokmin fretting, Wonwoo’s soft comforter.

And then coming to, buried in still soft bedsheets, with light filtering in and an annoying headache. He immediately groans into the pillow, a pillow way too soft to be his own.

He sits up carefully and looks around suspiciously. And, ah. He’s in Wonwoo’s bedroom. He groans again and falls back against the pillows.

It’s at least another half hour before he’s able to drag himself out of the room.

The apartment is quiet and tidy. A stark contrast from the state of it Chan remembers from last night.

“Chan-ah?”

“Huh?” Chan turns to look over, and finds Wonwoo curled under a blanket on the couch, his head poking out. His hair is standing up everywhere. Wonwoo reaches for his glasses. 

“Hyung, did I kick you out of your own bed? I’m so sorry, you should’ve just let me have the couch–”

“Don’t worry about it, Chan, really,” he says. “There’s aspirin in the kitchen cupboard and I think breakfast is still warm.”

“You cooked?”

Wonwoo snorts. “Mingyu did before leaving.”

“Where did he go?”

“To the gym, I think.”

Chan makes a face. “Where does he get all that energy from?”

Wonwoo laughs. “I have no idea.”

Chan hums. “Come have breakfast with me?” he pouts.

He gets a warm smile from Wonwoo, and then he’s crawling off the couch to sit at the table with Chan.

“You got drunk pretty fast last night,” Wonwoo says, shoving eggs into his mouth. He’s got some of Mingyu’s extra spicy sauce smeared on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I just may have skipped one too many meals yesterday,” he says with a shrug. “I’m fine, though. I wasn’t that drunk, just tired. I don’t even have a headache anymore.”

It makes Wonwoo smile and his nose scrunch up. “Okay,” he says. “Don’t skip any more meals, though. Here.” He picks more rice from the bowl Mingyu left for them and drops it on Chan’s plate, making a low thumping sound effect with his mouth. Chan smiles a little to himself and eats. “What are you up to today?”

“I have a research paper and some assignments to work on,” Chan says. “I think I’ll just go to the library, then hit the gym for a bit, too. You?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “Some programming. I’ll stay here and work on it,” he says, setting down his chopsticks. “Hey, Chan-ah?”

Chan cocks an eyebrow in a questioning gesture, shoving more rice into his mouth. Wonwoo smiles a little and gives him a long look.

“Wonwoo-hyung?” he prompts when Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else. Wonwoo swallows and shakes his head.

“Ah, nothing, sorry,” he says, then swallows thickly again. He takes a big gulp from his glass of water. 

“Hyung,” Chan whines, he hates being left hanging.

Wonwoo laughs a little. “Um, just that— Seungkwan got all Seungkwan about it last night and I didn’t get a chance to say it, but I really believe your Yeonjun likes you, Channie,” he says. “Just in case you needed another push.”

Chan stares at him, eyes wide for a moment, then he breaks into a smile. “Thank you,” he says, also setting his chopsticks down. He bites his lip. “I hope it turns out with your guy, too, hyung. I know you said they were in love with someone else and that you were okay with it, and I— I can’t even begin to guess what that must feel like or what to say, but I wish that you, too, can get what you want.”

Wonwoo gives him a sad little smile and only holds eye contact for a second. “That’s sweet. Thank you, Channie. Don’t worry about me, though.”

Chan sighs and fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I don’t worry, I just care about you.”

“Ah, thank you for that, then,” Wonwoo says, with another smile. “I— I… appreciate you.”

Chan chuckles and does roll his eyes at that. “Yeah, love you, too, hyung,” he says. “Hey, can I take a shower here?”

Wonwoo nods, that sad look back on his face, and tells him he can pick up after their meal for them, so Chan can just hop into the shower. Chan wraps Wonwoo up into a tight hug before he goes, feeling at ease with how Wonwoo relaxes in his arms, if only for a minute.

He feels at ease under the shower stream, too. It’s nice, enjoying good water pressure and actual privacy once in a while. And it’s nice using Mingyu’s good body wash and Wonwoo’s herbal shampoo, a scent that Chan knows will linger with him throughout the day.