Chapter Text
There’s a uniquely brief reprieve this refined lounge provides. It welcomes all workers to rest their tired feet and 8am-6pm aching eyes. To relax upon the plush cushions of the modern neon green new age variety, place their tired backside on single seat chairs with a scalding coffee in one hand from the espresso machine and burn away their fatigues, inner organs while entertaining a hard croissant in the other.
Away go the fleeting agenda items including contemplating which boss’s boot will have to be tenderly licked today. All those thoughts scurry away, for here there is just calm, peace and fashionably round light bulbs soft in their glow.
Also there is a long olympic pool sized table used for lunch meetings carved out of repurposed driftwood. The perfect length to double as a great hiding spot. Junhui thinks he’s been quite clever in taking this route.
“So you intend on hiding down there for the rest of your tenure?” Jihoon’s voice pierces through the solitude. Well that didn’t last long.
A seat is pulled out, one of the stiff backed stools and Jihoon groans when he sits, his brown loafers barely grazing the floor. Junhui stifles a laugh and resists the urge to coo at him, he knows Jihoon would kill him if he heard as much as a snicker.
The stools here could use some work but whatever Rome wasn’t built in a day, Junhui thinks, all can’t be perfect.
“Employee of the month nomination worthy I’m sure, though. They all think he’s getting extra hours in, I’ll keep your secret though Junnie” Soonyoung chimes in and Junhui can hear the tell-tale sign of plastic crinkling from Jihoon, unwrapping a beloved tonkatsu lunch set. He groans, they’re both here.
Junhui isn’t sure how they found him. The company has at least fifty meeting rooms, most absurdly more frivolous than the other, a huge resource drain, considering only a few are actually used for daily work let alone for lunch hour.
This particular one had been commissioned to be designed by Minghao on his personal recommendation. Popular for incorporating upcycling natural methods into modern Seoul office interiors. Junhui appreciated the natural element incorporation, not totally getting Minghao’s vision sometimes through abstract drafts and murmurings of rebirth, reuse, recycle in that order, the execution had paid off. He takes half the credit for his best friend’s rave reviews and Minghao lets him, after pinching him in the arm every time he brings it up.
It was after all a very obvious creative direction the marketing team had planned on using to publicize the company’s involvement in tapping into the sustainability of the domestic market and not at all a conglomerate eating away at the country’s reserves. At the time they both had laughed over the irony of the company hiring a Chinese artist only to classify him as local talent in PR material.
“Also leave him alone, Jihoon-ah his butt is probably already suffering enough.” At least Soonyoung has the courtesy to crouch under the table and attempt to leapfrog, stretch and sort of crawl over to him, careful not to use his hands. He reaches right over in front of where Junhui is comfortably sat cross legged, taps his cheek twice with both hands full and sets out to open the many layers of his tiered lunch box.
They might be here, sniffing out Junhui’s whereabouts in what seems to be an obvious recon mission, but he still feels a bit fond of the two taking the time to find him and spending their lunch time here. No matter their nosy intentions.
Fortunately, their picnicking is happening on a clean carpeted floor. Soonyoung’s navy blue slacks won’t be too soiled so Junhui doesn’t feel too bad. The floor is spotless. Since Junhui started lunch-ing (hiding) down here the carpet has been vacuumed every other hour by the cleaning staff who were seemingly happy that their efforts weren’t in vain an attempt to bypass the illusion of productivity by cleaning unused rooms. It just so happens that Junhui’s favorite cleaning lady was just here a few minutes ago. Junhui gave her part of his packed lunch for vacuuming around him instead of making him leave.
“You hide your pretty little butt down here for as long as you need to get over your trauma,” Soonyoung says, mouth in a pout. Junhui hasn’t decided whether or not this is a pity pout, one formed from vague concern, or a mixture between the two. But he’ll take it, as well as the other half of the egg sandwich Soonyoung offers in his hand, already unwrapped from its plastic sarcophagus.
“ 'm not hiding,” he gets out around a mouthful of egg, crumbs gathering on the napkin he’s laid on his lap. “I’m eating.” The sandwich is good, meaning neither Wonwoo or Soonyoung made it. He has to remember to ask Wonwoo which mart he buys this from. Those two may go food shopping together but Wonwoo makes executive decisions on final items.
“But I get veto power on nearly everything else and those come in handy in more than just the food shopping.” Soonyoung’s eyebrows are waggling. He really needs to stop voicing his inner observations about other’s domestic habits out loud.
“Stop monologuing your thoughts Moon Junhwe, so help me I need to digest this in 3 mins flat without irritating my acid reflux,” Jihoon grumbles amongst the loud crinkling of an additional triangle kimbap and slurps from, most likely, a diet coke.
“You could have eaten in your office.” He points out.
“I was dragged here by my elbow–,” Jihoon squawks indignantly. Junhui sees his head now, as he ducks down body moving forward on its own accord to inflict violence on both him and Soonyoung.
Soonyoung knocks his head hard on the bottom of the table trying to get away from Jihoon’s stabby straw.
Once Soonyoung is all but in his lap when he starts again. “Anyways, Jihoon means we’re here for moral support.” Soonyoung yelps. Fast legs are swinging back to their perch tucked behind each wooden leg of the stool.
Soonyoung gives a sour look over, rubbing his side and continues, “Ok, what’s really going on, we were looking for you everywhere. Is this where you’ve been eating for the past two weeks? Sure deceived us, looked empty when we passed by every day this week.”
“There is no us here, Soonyoung.” Jihoon replies completely nonplussed “Plus I noticed Jun slip into this room a couple of days ago when I was on my way to Jisoo hyung’s–, I mean shit sorry ‘Jisoo-nim’s –’ Junhui can imagine him doing actual air quotes, “Office to drop off the launch documents.”
A small pool of warmth gathers in his sternum empties out into his lungs. Junhui can feel a rush of gratitude for his friends, knowing they would never really betray him. That if he’s made himself scarce it’s for probably for a reason, even if they don’t agree with the method. Even if he’s a bit miffed they’re here on specific request to sniff him out and report back about his well-being and whereabouts.
“Seriously what’s up though, Seungcheol hyung even came by to ask us. Us !” Soonyoung is opening his third bento box, having now scooched a little bit away from being right on top of his dick and Junhui is still counting his blessings to Wonwoo for overpacking as he’s given a large roasted prawn skewered on a stick, its shell brushed with sesame oil and chill flakes.
“Nothing, nothing, finish your food, it’s good the chili flakes add a kick.” He smiles at Soonyoung trying to come across as reassuring but the concerned look received in return says he probably has egg stuck in his teeth.
They’re silent for a few minutes except for the occasional only the sounds of chewing. Sporadically Soonyoung will unwrap yet another portable delicacy, the sound echoing among the quiet and soundlessly handing Junhui another piece from his lunch.
“Does this have anything to do with your odd questions from last week? Wonwoo wouldn’t tell me anything, and I let him sleep with me, the bastard” Soonyoung snipes chewing on a huge prawn.
Junhui nearly passes out and tries to dislodge the egg now in his windpipe.
After hacking for several minutes with only a few pats on the back from Soonyoung and absolutely not a peep from Jihoon he swallows some water and tries to defend himself.
The questions were not weird, ok.
—-----------------------------------------------------
“You remember when you put your fingers in my ass, right?” Junhui is sitting at the kitchen counter idly waiting for the oven to ding, oven mitts already on.
Ok, maybe just the average amount of weird.
Jihoon spits out his coke. “Please, I don’t need to know these things.”
Wonwoo remains impassive, scrolling on his phone one hand carding through Soonyoung’s hair where he’s sitting in between his legs on the loveseat. “Sure, what about it.”
“Oh my god whoever’s closest to the kitchen scissors throw them–maim me” Jihoon slumps over from his perch on the kitchen stool onto the floor. Junhui assumes he’s gone into a fetal position. At least he’ll be comfortable on the floor, he mopped just hours before they arrived. Being horizontal in more ways than one has taught him a few things in the past week or so about the importance of cleanliness of hardwood and carpeted floors.
“Although like I’ve said before you could just book an appointment to go over the results of your colonoscopy if you have any more questions.” Wonwoo looks up with a bored look and a thumbs up. “But you’re fine, clean and healthy as a bull.”
“Bet Seungcheol’s hung like a bull..,” Soonyoung happily chimes in.
“That’s hyung to you!” Jihoon’s voice squeaks from the floor, sound encased in a hollow fervor like a tiny vessel of hope long gone. “Anybody that’s not Jun in this room is not in a relationship with him. Not counting the parasocial one all you have developed simply by investing yourselves in something that involves exactly none of you and shouldn’t be calling him anything other than what is strictly—”
“Is that the problem, my god Jun I was joking, maybe.” Soonyoung looks at Junhui now with remorse in his eyes, but Junhui’s sure he’s more upset about his Seungcheol stacked theory being wrong than any actual guilt.
“Well—uhm..” Junhui scratches the back of his neck tilting his head looking down at the floor. “Just needed to know some things, facts, medical facts about me and him.” All heads turn to look at him including Jihoon’s who's sitting up on his knees rendering only the top of his mop black hair to be visible. “Listen, I swear this is only a medically sound inquiry.” He hopes waving his hands frantically in circles will distract them. It doesn’t.
“Ok, well these ‘medical facts’,” Wonwoo loves doing air quotes to punctuate his point, him and Jihoon both, “Does it have to do anything with Seungcheol-hyung coming in to do one with you as well?”
This positively piques Soonyoung’s interest. He had gotten sidetracked by Wonwoo’s fingers gesticulating air quote-y sarcasm and had held onto two of them. But at this question he whips his head back to Junhui so fast he hears an audible neck crack.
“What, you guys got butt exams done together?? Why didn’t you tell me.” He turns towards Wonwoo with accusation in his eyes, a request on his lips.
Wonwoo puts a halt to that, pinching Soonyoung’s lips with his fingers digging his fingernail further into the soft skin to make an indent. Ignoring his yelp, Wonwoo focuses on Junhui with a questionable gaze, “Well I didn’t do hyung’s exam, only yours. Also even if I had I can’t tell you about Seungcheol hyung’s exam, you know that, patient client confidentiality, all that jazz.” He lets go of Soonyoung’s lip. “It’d be much easier if you could say what you’re really after here.”
The colonoscopy had been Seungcheol’s idea, well more of an order by his doctor and Seungcheol asked if Junhui wanted to get one done too. They had signed up with Junhui’s enthusiastic consent, grabbing at a chance to spend more time learning sides of Seungcheol he didn’t openly discuss.
To put it simply, it was nice. Following the same routine, consuming heaps of seolleongtang as Junhui had taken to making it nearly every night, seamlessly incorporating it into their diet as dictated by exam preparation instructions . The rich milky broth had eased Seungcheol’s anxiety, their hands intertwined during the entirety of those dinners. Reminding each other through texts and calls a full week before the exam up until the moment they were holding hands riding up in the cool metal exterior of the hospital’s elevator. Junhui could see Seungcheol, in the reflective panels, his brows furrowed creating visible stress lines. He turned to look at him and pressed a thumb between Seungcheol’s eyebrows to smooth out the lines, receiving a gorgeous gummy smile in return.
Junhui finished first. Wonwoo let him out with a pat on his butt. Junhui appropriately called him an ass. He felt sleepy, the sedative still coursing through his system. Waiting for Seungcheol left him a little antsy so he didn’t sit down for the entire thirty additional minutes it took for him to come out. Finally, he was extending an arm out embracing Seungcheol in a hug . A few sore back door puns later they headed down together.
Unfortunately they weren’t yet out of the red zone. Reading about the after effects of the procedure does nothing to prepare one for the sheer velocity of the terror that is to follow. As soon as the elevator doors slide closed Seungcheol locks eyes with Junhui when the first loud audible winds ripples through the elevator, overtaking the hum of the electrical wiring. Then one after another like wind bells singing, the loud chorus of tooting in various octaves echoed all through the small metal container. One being particularly strong, creating enough torque to flutter the back of Seungcheol’s coat.
As they couldn’t drive themselves home Jihoon had been called on duty as chauffeur. Impatiently waiting in the downstairs lobby he found them with his hand hovering above the up button, the doors sliding open to reveal them slumped over each other catching their breaths from tears of laughter completely crumpled and red in the face.
It was a good day stowed away as a happy memory.
“He’s not even close to edging half a century yet, isn’t that exam only for old dudes? Why’d you willingly put yourself through being anally probed.” Wonwoo flicks Soonyoung on the forehead. “Ow quit it. Ok, ok to be probed medically or whatever.”
Junhui shrugs, hoping to come across as nonchalant, “Preventative measures. There’s history in his family,”
“So you went for moral support. Cute.”
Junhui doesn’t respond to that. He keeps the oven mitts on both hands and stirs more honey into his tea, concentrating on gripping the spoon through the thick fabric. Jihoon has now come to his knees, and peers at him a little too intensely. Junhui can only see his eyes from the edge of the island countertop. “Spit it out.”
“This is between Dr. Jeon, me, and my asshole.” The conversation really could have been a simple text, Wonwoo is often busy but never enough to ignore him. This has been a particular itch he needed to address before it scooped him out and scrapped him raw. In hindsight he should have waited until he got a moment alone with Wonwoo; unfortunately as usual his curiosity had gotten the best of him.
“Geez we were all here with working ears when you popped up with this inquiry. I was perfectly fine continuing the discussion of modern techniques to upholster our old pokemon plushies,” Jihoon huffs out sliding his torso further onto the floor until Junhui can no longer see him.
“Wool over polyester still wins in my eyes,” Chan says, trying to dispel the weird tonal direction that Junhui has shepherded into the room. Oh yeah Chan is here. Earlier Junhui had led him to a corner of the kitchen and propped him up with a can of coke and his phone with permission to watch anything he wanted while the grown-ups talked. Technically Chan is an adult, the only competent tech guy in their department but semantics, semantics. Chan wouldn't be interested in these particular discussions anyways.
“What Jihoon means is, you brought us all into this. Sorry Chan-ah for the topic,” Wonwoo says. Chan just waves his can of coke at him pressing play on the youtube video since no one has switched on Netflix yet on the flatscreen and it's not like he's going to do that himself.
Junhui knows their techniques. Refocusing back onto making him share what’s really bothering him is a task. He’ll talk around an issue, jump over it, maneuver a pointed jeté up and through it only to land without a sound on the other side. But never answer it straightforwardly. The first time at least.
Enough silence will sometimes do the trick. So, for a few minutes they say nothing, the only noise is the soft music from the video Chan’s playing and his low rumbling chuckles. Usually it works to give him enough time to soften the blow of his own vulnerable admissions. Junhui feels a trickle of sweat from somewhere on his chest drip down into his shirt giving the front of his shirt the appearance of having walked through a light spritz outside.
This downpour is instead of steely gazes and coercive tactics that wouldn’t even faze a mosquito, but Junhui is a weak willed man when up against mellow psychological torture like this.
He breaks.
“Ok, fine! Just...how was...” Sucking in more air Junhui realizes now that he’s started he has to continue to peter out the question. “I mean, is the size of my…, fine?”
The only sound in the room is Junhui’s nervous chuckling.
“What.” There’s no telling who uttered the phrase although the look of bewilderment in all eight eyes is telling that it does not matter who.
“Is this related to the sex and love forums I saw you pouring over the other day.” Soonyoung asks, moving closer to the edge of the loveseat stretching out on his belly, chin cupped in his palm.
“When you nearly broke the wall of my cubicle trying to look at my phone? That was all in Chinese, how could you know what I was reading?”
“I’m hurt, what if I learned Chinese to communicate with you better, ever thought of that, huh?” Soonyoung accuses loudly.
Wonwoo provides spousal support. “He told me that he saw a penis pump ad on the side but lots of foreign characters on the other, either it was porn or a sex advice column.”
“I figured it was the former.” Soonyoung adds on.
“But mostly we just flipped a coin to decide which, so Soonyoung would stop talking about it.”
“I was defending your honor Junnie!”
“By selling me out Soonie, how would penis pump accusations make my poor penis feel?” He shouts back, not peeved, and really ignoring the distressed cogs of Jihoon noises in protest. The back and forth has made them forget his original question, though the penis pump probably adds more incriminating evidence to the rhetorical pile of shit he’s just laid on them.
“Because even if I figured you wouldn’t look online for sex advice, I trusted you’d have just come to us or atleast me.” Soonyoung shouts back, having fun now, he’s nearly bent all the way over the armchair of the sofa now, low enough to the floor to reach his hand on the floor as he looks up at Junhui.
“Does this have to do with your date Seungcheol hyung’s two weeks ago?” Jihoon's disembodied voice asks.
More waves of sweat start to tsunami down from his forehead.
He’s saved by the oven timer ding. “The beef pies are done!” He hops off his stool, socked feet sliding across the floor even more slippery from the lack of friction the settled dust piles on his floor usually provide. He narrowly avoids crashing over Jihoon’s ankle, who after physically checking out earlier from the conversation had taken shelter in front of the warmth emitting from the oven before asking his last question.
“Almost felt obliged to trip you but I love these meat pie things so you’re forgiven,” Jihoon says nursing his wounded ankle. “What are they called again?”
“ Xian bing . Knew you loved me, Hoonie.” One by one he transfers his pie babies from the large iron skillet they’re resting in. Delicately pinching them with his chopsticks to check if the golden crust has formed at the bottom. Perfect. “This isn’t authentic by the way. At all. So you’re not really getting the full experience.”
“Gee you don’t say. Haphazardly throwing together locally sourced ingredients to make a dish thousands of miles away from said origin? Color me shocked.” Jihoon gets up, groans, proceeding to stretch and pop a joint in his leg. From here on it’s a run through of the routine they’ve built after realizing how completely useless Wonwoo and Soonyoung are in all matters regarding the word kitchen. Jihoon’s usually the one to grab all the utensils and whatever else they need as Junhui plates the food.
Ignoring Soonyoung’s whines about no one paying attention to pressing matters and Wonwoo lovingly smothering him with a cushion, Jihoon turns around to grab chopsticks out of the drawer for everyone.
Five pairs in total is all he needs. But Junhui sees him falter a bit, staring into the pulled drawer as if it’ll give him the answer to something. His hesitation is obvious as he looks at it, staring, maybe hoping it’ll give him an answer as to why dinner with Seungcheol and friends on Wednesday is happening without him this week.
Junhui knows there is probably another set he sees, a smooth pair made from bamboo with an attractive olive green handle. Jihoon shakes his head slightly and Junhui knows that it’s his wag of disapproval.
After closing the drawer Jihoon looks over and meets Junhui’s eyes with a flash of dismay that’s gone as quickly as it came. Junhui’s just left wondering what conclusions Jihoon has come up with. If he’s talked to Seunghcoel recently about them, about him. Instead of saying anything, Jihoon walks over and places all five pairs on the counter, leaving the bamboo one in the drawer and waits, drumming his fingers on the island counter.
Briefly Junhui considers running out of his own apartment or asking for a bathroom break to gargle a teaspoon of bleach. By his calculations that should knock him out in the hospital for the time it would take to avoid this conversation. His brilliantly concocted plans are foiled when both Soonyoung and Wonwoo reach the kitchen island flanking him on either side, effectively trapping him. Sandwiched between evil one and two.
Chan pays them no mind reaching over with his chopsticks to plop a pie in his mouth. The pie should be scalding hot, lava flowing in crevices between tongue and teeth. Maybe Chan is the real evil one.
“These are real good Junnie, god, marry me.” Soonyoung moans around a mouthful of pie. He had torn apart his pie baby in his hands and blew on it for a second before annihilating both halves. Dribbles of juice from the pork fat gather around the corner of his mouth, Wonwoo wipes them away with his thumb—licking the remains that come away on his finger. They’re so gross. And sweet. Junhui feels a sense of contentment seeing him enjoy it, but sighs slowly through his nose as other memories flood in. He puts down the spatula and promptly puts a cork on those. He raises both his hands to his head to rub at his temples.
“I have to check something, be back, help yourselves you know where the soda is!” Junhui all but rushes into the bathroom.
Once inside he leans head first against the door, a challenge since Seungcheol’s plush dark navy bathrobe is hanging on the hook preventing him from feeling the cool wood on his forehead as he contemplates slamming it there a few times.
Luckily, the food will serve as a distraction. Plus time spent dawdling away in here with the excuse of diarrhea and—then, voila! no one will remember to revisit his line of questioning from earlier in their food coma induced state. He maniacally giggles a little to himself, swinging his arms side to side so he feels a bit like a balloon man swaying with the wind, out there, away from here.
His good time is swiftly interrupted by a series of soft knocks on the door.
Well that was fast. He turns towards the doorknob already planning on admitting defeat, he sweated enough.
Perhaps he can try out his luck. He opens the door a peek to poke his head out and whisper “Occupied?”
“Why are you saying it like you’re not sure?” Wonwoo replies wryly.
He relents, opens the door mumbling about something, something dignity, could have waited a little longer. Wonwoo steps in holding both hands up facing towards himself away from the rest of his body, a habit he developed in med school. One that Junhui used to relentlessly tease him for, yelling sterile! whenever he went to wash his hands.
“Uhm there’s a sink in the kitchen perfectly supplied for all your hygienic needs Wonwoo-ah.” Despite questioning his intentions he gives Wonwoo room to maneuver around to the sink and watches him squirt a generous dollop of lavender scented hand wash from the fish shaped soap container. Gifts from Seungcheol and Chan, respectively.
Wonwoo does not respond. Just continues to make sure he gets in between his fingers and under his nails. Watching him, the methodical physicality of it calms Junhui’s thoughts, giving his mind elbow room to slow down from the racing memories of everything.
After what feels like hours, Wonwoo wipes his hands on the hand towel Junhui hands him. “So.”
“I’m innocent.” Junhui says.
“Never said you were on trial for anything, although your questions out there did incriminate you in a way,” Wonwoo replies. “We’re all pretty worried even if we give you shit for being so gross and clingy with Seungcheol-hyung all the damn time. You haven’t mentioned him beyond the colonoscopy.”
Junhui can’t think of anything to say. It's putting himself in a precarious position stuck between a hard place and a cliff. Both he would jump off right now if given the chance.
He shakes his head, nothing really to say that would explain away the past few days. Maybe he has to just jump headfirst. Wonwoo has never been one to twist a vein for information, just content to let conversations go the directions they oscillate. He’s like Jihoon in that way.
He must be concerned. They all are if they sent Wonwoo to check on him.
“There might be, uhm, some light turbulence… that hyung’s not completely aware of…” He trails off hoping Wonwoo can piece together the non-issue without having to spell it out. Otherwise he’ll die here.
“Is there a particular cause for this, did he do something?” Wonwoo asks.
Junhui shakes his head with so much vigor that pieces of his styled bangs shake loose onto his forehead from their moussed tousle. “No. He doesn’t know what might or might not be wrong.”
He starts pacing. “Though if there were to be a pin that blew up the metaphorical grenade causing a chain of events to happen leading to this predicament it might lean on one side more than another, most likely mine.” The pacing has turned into just him rapidly facing one wall then another in a frenzied dance. His bathroom really isn’t that big. “Again if there were a side to be inclined towards, which there is not because there is no problem, why choose sides right? It would be a mutually agreed thing, you know he probably doesn’t know, which you know how busy Seungcheol-hyung can be.” He takes a breath and stops facing Wonwoo head-on, but not looking him in the eyes to finish. “But like I said, whether or not there is a problem, it’s not really not a big deal.”
He looks over at Wonwoo and punctuates this rambling by miming throwing a grenade in the direction of the window and crouching down plugging both ears. Again the distraction probably doesn’t work but it was more of a visual demonstration, knowing it won’t net any practical gains. But, by now Wonwoo knows that there is indeed a concrete dilemma. The miming actually never really helps.
Light headed and out of breath he stays squatted on the floor, thoughts running race tracks in his mind with other unsaid non answers excuses.
“I see.” Wonwoo says and then nothing for the next few moments.
Still crouched down he peers with one eye open. He sees Wonwoo perched on the edge of the tub, reading the label on the shampoo bottle. “Is this the lemongrass scent Seungcheol hyung’s always going on about?” Wonwoo asks.
“Refreshingly the very same,” Junhui replies, smiling a bit, still catching his breath, remembering the last group dinner they had at a BBQ restaurant. They elected to sit outside to enjoy the last of the warmth before the weather swiftly transitioned into cozied cardigans and chill bitten noses. Seungcheol buried his nose in Junhui’s hair whenever the frigid wind blew by. He had shielded Junhui from the worst of it by tugging him under his chin, pulling the flap of his long coat over him, cocooning him in heat and inhaling his shampoo scent loudly exclaiming that Junhui’s hair was making him hungrier and loudly demonstrating by smacking a kiss right to the top of his hair.
Everyone groaned at that, Jihoon chucking a balled tissue at them both as Soonyoung bemoaned that the smoke had blown into his eyes. Minghao grumbling that it was a stupid idea to sit outside whose idea was this and accidentally hitting Mingyu’s arm with his sour gesticulations causing him to nearly poke himself in the eye with the grilling pongs. He remembers an eruption of laughter. Soonyoung keeled over Jihoon and Wonwoo as Junhui watched giggling from the caterpillar sized hole of Seungcheol’s coat button opening. At the time contentment felt like a pendant hung around his neck clasped securely with gentle hands, warmth pressed firmly at his nape.
“That dopey look on your face means you’re reminiscing, so I’m gonna say you miss him.” Wonwoo stands up. He’s still on the floor, and still can’t look Wonwoo directly in the eyes, opting now to trace the thread count of his bath mat.
“I do—,I do miss him. Very much.” Junhui allows himself to admit albeit very quietly. “I don't know how to talk to him about this,” Waving around his hand to refer to the bigness of this. “And it’s not easy like it is for you and Soonyoung.”
Wonwoo sighs. “It wasn’t always like this for us, you know this.”
Outside, distant clanging of metal chopsticks hitting the floor reverberates through the air and the subsequent laughter echoing a combination of Chan and Soonyoung’s cackles.
“We worked up to that.” Wonwoo says. If anything Junhui should be the one who knows this best. As the one who had the honor of introducing them to each other he now had steep emotional investment in hoping they worked out. The sunk cost fallacy too steep with the hefty price of losing both best friends, if they didn’t. “Maybe you’ve forgotten.”
“I didn’t, I wouldn’t forget any of that.” Junhui sees a reel playing back of their first dates, many of which were spent sitting discreetly in a corner table watching sloppy hands and even sloppier words exchanged. He was forced by Soonyoung—his then, second year college roommate—to spy on these dates, since Junhui had set them up. Junhui always sat a few tables away consumed with thoughts and free kimchi with breadsticks at the Italian-Korean fusion restaurants Wonwoo always chose. He happily contemplated the practical benefits of having his current budding best friend in college marry his high school one. Two worlds colliding in the best of ways. The spying was an extra precaution, a favor he gladly partook for Soonyoung who was always more nervous than Wonwoo. Just in case anything went awry. Nothing ever did and hours later on the last of these that Junhui ever had to go to, he was shaken awake by Wonwoo shoving a breadstick into his mouth when Soonyoung went to the bathroom. An unread text sent while he was asleep saying ‘he’s a good one junnie <3 thx you can go home.’
“Don’t remind me I spent all my savings because I got tempted by the spaghetti everytime and felt bad about eating all the free breadsticks.” Junhui replies fondly, he never minded spending the money for Soonyoung’s piece of mind. “The portions were always so small, Wonwoo-yah how did Soonyoung not starve?”
“You definitely just wanted to eat spaghetti.”
Junhui shrugs, neither confirming nor denying. “So yes, I take all the credit for getting you two together, but what does that have to do with-” He gestures out at them sitting across from each other having a heart to heart in his tiny bathroom.
Wonwoo rubs at his chin, crossing one leg over another seemingly perfectly comfortable lounging on the edge of the tub.
“Do you remember when Soonyoung and I went bungee jumping because that’s something he thought was a befitting activity for our anniversary?” Wonwoo asks.
Junhui is wholly confused, but knows it will eventually end up somewhere so he hums for Wonwoo to continue.
He tilts his head up at the ceiling. “So for the couples package you could go up with your partner, to support them, cheer them on, etc, etc.”
“Except we didn’t get that. Or, instead Soonyoung booked us each as a single person jumper—which I should add was more expensive and he used my card…” Wonwoo starts muttering, each subsequent grumble mashed together in a jumble of huffs. He gains composure and continues. “Anyways, we get there all the way to the top of the platform and the instructor asks us if we would like to go together anyways since we show up holding hands even though he saw our tickets clearly has ‘single jumper’ printed on it. Soonyoung says no and then he looks at me. Do you know what he wanted me to say?”
“That he’s completely insane.” Junhui replies.
“He wanted me to say of course I’ll go up with him.”
Junhui chuckles a bit. “You know this confirms my answer to your rhetorical question.”
Wonwoo just shrugs corners of his mouth, upturning a little, a smile forming from the memory. “It was a mix of anticipation and confirmation of expectations, acknowledgement of moving past the solid lines we’ve drawn in the sand of our relationship, except they don’t exist anywhere but,” Wonwoo reaches a single finger to jab, gently, the middle of Junhui’s forehead. “Here.”
Junhui just looks at him.
“Ok, I can see you have questions.”
“Only one. Did you huff some medical glue before stepping in here? Also your free time to do these things astounds me Wonwoo-yah, you lucked out with private practice.” Junhui finally gets up and dusts off his slack, reaching upwards to stretch. “But I think I get it.”
That gets a slight chuckle out of Wonwoo then tinkering back down into silence. Wonwoo always gives Junhui the space to digest information, arriving at the conclusion on his own after sorting through stimuli, which Junhui’s always appreciated.
When Junhui doesn’t say anything anymore hoping Wonwoo will add something to make sense of anything, Wonwoo relents. “I don’t mind, you know, going along with what he wants, it’s not the most conventional way of communicating but it helps me understand that as much as I don’t know how to say certain things, he may not either, it helps us talk afterwards.”
“So, you want me to take Seungcheol-hyung bungee jumping and talk to him just as he’s about to jump?” Junhui proposes.
Wonwoo fixes him with a look and then rolls his eyes. “Not entirely surprised, that's where your mind went first. But no. I mean sure, if later on you want to, not what I meant though.”
Junhui is about to respond with his defense when he’s interrupted by three loud consecutive knocks.
“Jihoon said if you guys aren’t out in 2 mins we’ll be calling 119 to say you’ve both died by drowning in the sink.” Soonyoung says in a volume which could easily transmute a sonic boom. “And if you’ve both taken a detour to smashtown in there, can I at least watch?” Junhui can hear both the pout and coy smirk through the door, no visuals needed. Thankfully this part is said lower. Junhui can fondly imagine Soonyoung putting his lips right next to the space between the wall and bathroom door to convey this message.
Junhui gets up and sidesteps Wonwoo to stand next to the door “We’ll be out soon, unfinished business,” he informs the door with a returning soft knock.
“Make sure to hit record babes!” He hears a soft pitter patter, petering away. Soonyoung always is light on his feet even if his entire existence is boisterous and demands to be heard.
“Your boyfriend’s a menace.” Junhui says, pressing his forehead forward again leaning against Seungcheol’s bathrobe. It smells like him, sandalwood and sage aftershave.
Wonwoo agrees. “I know. Unfortunately he came to me like that with no assembly required, so I’ve just got to deal. Though it’s a smart idea to record. Would make for good material later on.”
“All I’m saying is it takes time Junnie, and for what it’s worth Seungcheol-hyung would be willing to listen to whatever you have to say. Didn’t he stay with you for that 24 hour Hannibal marathon once, who does that for someone they’re not head over heels for?”
“He’s a morally decent guy Wonwoo, he’d do that for anyone.” Junhui replies. How can he explain to Wonwoo to anyone really that this is undoubtedly more than what can be made up for with time spent together. “But what if I can no longer give him what he deserves or needs?”
“And what’s that exactly, about deserving more of what, choco-pies?” Wonwoo’s tone has taken a steely edge no doubt about to launch into an impassioned defense leveling that Junhui does not have to measure up to anyone.
“Well those are his favorite…” Junhui stops himself before launching into defending Seungcheol’s honor. You help a man sneak a few company sponsored rations one time and dish them out at every Wednesday hangout for the rest of the year and suddenly it’s everyone’s problem. No amount of groaning Jihoon’s groaning over crumbly dried chocolate cake will live down the shine in Seungcheol’s eyes whenever he munches on one, cheeks full.
“Junhui.” Wonwoo frowns.
He’s heard this lecture one too many times. One he’s had to endure at Wonwoo’s insistence - many a note cards scratched out with anatomical diagrams of organs on the back, sprawled instead with his itemed list 1-10 of what Junhui needs to get through his head about self-worth, esteem, his piss poor kill to death ratio in Fortnite, the whole nine yards. Albeit with more biting words and dodgy assurances conveyed in long winded riddles. But Wonwoo’s just like that. They’re both allergic to outward sincerity, but Junhui knows what he means. Even if he talks like a 14th century nerd.
“Just talk to him, we all miss him, some more than others.” And with that he moves around Junhui, and exits the bathroom. Junhui can hear the second clatter of metal chopsticks hitting the floor, puts the hand towel on the hanging rack and follows him out.
—-----------------------------------------------------
Soonyoung has moved on to unpacking his veggies. He munches, staring into space, for a while on a carrot stick until he looks over at Junhui posture straightening and eyes widening a fraction, probably remembering he’s here for another purpose other than providing food support.
In demonstration Soonyoung takes one carrot and a celery in each hand bringing them together in the middle to meet the other, fists joined, eyes closed. “Now listen here, communication is key, young grasshopper, you must talk about your issues.” He opens his eyes and narrows them. “Not eat treason for lunch under tables.” The right handed celery pokes at Junhui’s mouth until he relents and opens it to take a bite. “At least eat on Jeonghan hyung’s floor if you want to commit to the traitor routine.”
“And what crimes am I being tried for here exactly? I'm just a simple common man eating taking advantage of our office’s accommodations, these are our tax dollars at work here!” Not like Junhui asked to be interrogated with crunchy water vegetables during his most anticipated part of the day.
Jihoon sighs. “Not too keen to question your logic about how you think the tax system works, but have you been in touch with Seungcheol at all in the last week?”
“Of course, I’ve just been busy, so is he, sprint time, third quarter you know how it is,” Junhui tries for and he’s not even lying this time. Not that he was lying before. They are busy , Jihoon knows better than any one, one of the team’s top number crunchers.
They both relent for a few minutes, Junhui knows it's a temporary reprieve. They’ll fuel up with carbs, and Diet Coke and the caffeine refractory period will show its face. He leans on his fist arm situated on his thigh, startled at the smoothness of his cheek, the slippy texture and smiles to himself.
Soonyoung notices and he points the now empty skewer at him, his cheeks puffing with a grin. “What’s got you all goofy, huh?”
Junhui won’t say it’s for him and him only.
—-----------------------------------------------------
A particularly draining day has Junhui dead on his feet. He rarely, if ever gets like this.
Exhaustion tends to stay at bay licking up the sides of his brain only when he has too much time to think about grave injustices. Not his own, but how many hours he and his co-workers spent staring at VLOOKUP for a special thing that his boss circled back on after shelving it months ago. Those guys have kids and families. He tried to coax them that he’ll handle all of it his usual smiles, and reassurance even offered to supply shrimp crackers out of pocket at the next touch base, unfortunately these people have integrity and no amount of polite shooing amounted to anything but all four of them hunched back clacking away til the clock hits 8. And he won’t stand for it. He’ll sit down. With the rest of his comrades rub his tired, burning eyes, crack each knuckle, make an internal almost blubbery like noise for motivation and get to work.
By the time he makes it home it's exactly 8:30pm. Not a new record for the most part, these late nights are atypical or the company spreads their most demanding requests over the year, to seem more charitable but Junhui can see through them. He’s no stranger to hard work.
He hears, before he can see Seungcheol. A loud snuffling and shuffling of soft fabric. Walking over to the sofa he nearly trips over Seungcheol’s strewn loafers one upturned by the backside of the sofa the other he picks up right by the edge of the living room’s rug, a huge 2d Totoro. The pointed ends of the Totoro rendering are turned towards the glass door. Junhui holds both shoes in his hand and rubs his socked feet right at his whiskers. He loves this thing.
Back to business. Walks over and climbs right over him. “Cheolie, wake up.” Tries for as gentle as he can.
“Hmm.”
“You wanna grab a pair?”
“What–” Fully blinking open his eyes, Junhui tries not to swoon. Dead to the world he might be but he’ll never be too out of it to admire Seungcheol’s pretty eyes. He’s deceptively cute like, cheek squished against one of two of his only throw pillows.
“Your shoes.” Junhui says, still straddling him. And holding both shoes. “Don’t worry I’ll put them away because you’re cute when you’re like this but should I be encouraging bad habits, who’s to say.”
Seungcheol levels him with a stern look, eyes still droopy but coming alive. “You want to lecture me about bad habits, when seven choco-pies hit me in the face whenever I try to grab a glass out of your cabinet.” He turns back into the pillow to yawn.
Junhui angles each shoe under his chin, fluttering his eyelashes “Uh-huh, just say you’re secretly flattered, I pay so much attention to you.”
“I can just say it now, thank you for the choco pies but I definitely mean the hoarding.” Seungcheols springs up quickly, catching him by surprise. Junhui had tried to lean away just to be annoying but met him in a kiss eventually when Seungcheol growled his name a bit too firmly. He’s weak.
They make out lazily for a few minutes. Junhui would say he got lost in Seungcheol’s mouth for hours, licking the seam of his lips, smoothly gliding across as they got more entangled in each other on his tiny two seater. But the truth is, Junhui can feel every minute from the microwave clock burn into his retinas, he’s so tired so he can feel rather than accurately gauge each minute he’s still awake.
When Seungcheol reaches down to squeeze his ass in his slacks he has to wearily extricate himself. Though not too far he’s still very much on his lap. Where he's pretty sure he could fall asleep. Seungcheol runs really warm.
“Hyung, I would.. I'm just tired.”
The look Seungcheol gives him could melt a marble statue, right into a puddle of goo. Says, as if it wouldn’t stun anyone into stillness “Jun, I just wanted to kiss you.”
He blinks at a loss at what to say, tries to recover quickly and hardly registers the last chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’re stopping those drama re-runs right now, Cha-Eunwoo is not a great influence, you're already 70% cheese.” Seungcheol just chuckles and pulls him down flush against him.
Junhui evaporates a bit more, slumping fully down now laying on Seungcheol’s chest, taking it for what it is. A welcome home. Though he’s embarrassed and lightly punches him.
“I didn’t mean-” he starts snuggling completely under Seungcheol’s chin, so he can’t look at how red his face has gotten, blush starting at his forehead probably.
“Jun-ah, let’s get ready for bed, hyung will get your clothes ready for you, just go shower. I got a refill of the face cream you like at my place, unscented.”
This gets Junhui's attention and he lifts himself partially up. “Unscented?” He repeats dumbly.
“Yes, I know my perfume can be too strong for you sometimes, I don’t know why you didn’t say anything earlier,” Seungcheol says. Fully sitting up, taking Junhui with him like a ragdoll being rearranged.
Strong an understatement to the rigorous rich notes of his cologne. A distinct muskiness the black currant would absolutely bowl him over, punching him in the gut luckily uplifted by the sweet jasmine tones. He likes it, it could be too much for his sensitive nose though he’d like to bury his face in Seungcheol’s crisp shirt or after he’s left the sofa inhale the remnants from the fabric feeling exactly insane (mostly insane Minghao would remind him). Seungcheol appreciated the sight of it all and who’s the one dating him. Exactly.
He’s never said any of this to Seungcheol though. They’ve been dating for exactly three months, and Junhui has stayed over at Seungcheol’s admittedly more lofty apartment only a handful of times. Mostly to crash after a particularly late night, it being closer to the swanky office space in the many high rises developed in that area. The face cream had been sitting pretty, emerald green a jewel on his vanity, it had felt silky smooth but was so overly wrought with artificial scent that he must have sneezed in front of Seungcheol one too many times. He felt sorry the entire night, but kept mentioning how smooth his face was, to which Seungcheol tested by peppering kisses all over his cheeks.
“Well, you know I pay attention to you too,” Seungcheol says, pushing some wispy ends of Jun’s long gone gelled upkeep away from his face.
Junhui groans, pulls the pillow out of Seungcheol’s one hand and sighs into it. “Ok, no more mush for the night. Drama ban. Choco-pie ban-” Tosses the pillow right on top of his smug face, half arsed attempts to avoid being suffocated. Junhui gets up and leaves the pillow there right on his face, hops over Totoro’s belly and lands in front of his room’s door.
Behind him he can hear Seungcheol murmur, “Fine, fine. One day you won’t be allergic to my mush and just say why thank you hyung.”
He sees the face cream, opened already on top of his night stand and something in his chest bumps up against his ribs. Thank you, hyung.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I can feel a headache coming in,” a warning threat creeping into Jihoon’s tone. Then retreating. “Jun there will be no evidence I said this because I can’t guarantee that I won’t feign memory loss if asked–but I agree with Soonyoung.”
“We should plan a coup with Jeonghan hyung to take down Jisoo hyung?” Junhui asks, quite seriously. Regime change is no laughing matter.
“You should be talking about your problems, whatever they may be, instead of hiding like this.” Jihoon replies in the driest voice reminiscent of a therapist being paid in expired coupons.
“There is no problem.” Junhui is aware his voice sounds meek even to his own ears. That the outright denial probably sounds more suspicious, but it has gotten him through the weeks so far and he’s too far down the avoidance route to now cut his losses and come clean. Not that there’s anything to come clean about, of course.
“So you just enjoy the luxury of sitting on the floor at lunch.” Jihoon doesn’t have to look at him to throw his crumpled up wrapping under the table and pelt Junhui right on the nose.
He swats away the plastic ball. Then picks it up to put it in his trash pile. “You could eat at one of the many other fine dining lounges this establishment offers. I'd suggest the room of fun next to Jeonghan-hyung’s office.” It has like a thousand plasma screens TVs, hurts Jun’s eyes and makes him dizzy but he’s down for the occasional crooning to Jolin Tsai karaoke from each speaker.
Jihoon scoffs. “And miss you avoiding your problems, not a chance.”
The sound of the door opening startles all three of them. A draft wafts in, the air conditioning has always been higher in the hallways for some reason, disturbing the perfectly climate controlled environment of the lounges.
“There is no problem.” This he whispers, harshly, this time with a sneaking suspicion sinking in of who might have come in.
Soonyoung peers around the edge of the table to inspect. Then turning around to face Junhui, whispering, quite loudly, “Well, think fast about your innocence because your no-problem just walked in.”
They’re stationed at the end of the mile long table, out of immediate sight underneath. Seungcheol hasn’t figured yet to look there and is headed straight for Jihoon.
Junhui panics, stuffing the last bit of sandwich and prawn into his mouth, turning to Soonyoung with a wide eyed frenzied look hoping to convey his desperation of please, just this once.
Soonyoung sighs, pats his cheek with sticky hands and shimmies out from underneath the table to loudly greet their guest. As footsteps get closer to the other two in one direction, Junhui stuffs the trash into his pockets, speed crawls, carpet burn be damned, the remaining length of the olympic pool sized table and flees out of the door.
“Yah! Jun, you can’t run forever!”
Not forever, just a bit more time to figure out how to try for some of now.