Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Seungcheol, Seungcheol/Original Female Character Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: implied internalized homophobia, slight mention of sex but not overall nsfw, angst, they don't actually interact it's just jeonghan Thinking So Hard Permission to remix: Please ask
***
When Jeonghan gets the invitation in the mail, he laughs out loud; helplessly, wildly, with disbelief. It comes out of him like he’s a cornered reptile spitting acid. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Choi Seungcheol and Oh Nayoung, reads the dainty script inside the card. Jeonghan would bet money that Nayoung picked it, that she showed Seungcheol and he said sure, darling, whatever you want. He’d always been a bit of a pushover.
There’s a QR code to RSVP online at the bottom. How romantic. Jeonghan shoves the card back into its color-coordinated envelope and leaves it at the bottom of the junk drawer in his kitchen.
But the thing is—he wants to go, if only to look Seungcheol in the eyes and ask why he was invited in the first place. He can imagine what will happen on Seungcheol’s face when he sees him, when he realizes his mistake.
Because it is a mistake. Not just for Jeonghan to be there, but for Seungcheol to remember him at all, for either of them to acknowledge each other; it was a mistake for them to meet and not immediately run in opposite directions without looking back.
Jeonghan goes to the wedding. He scans the stupid code, he marks attending unaccompanied on the little RSVP form, he buys some sort of laundry rack from the registry. He wonders if Seungcheol will see his name under the gift receipt and think of him every time he uses it.
It’s not hard to follow the suggested guest dress code, because the pastel wedding colors match half of Jeonghan’s wardrobe. Some hideous tiny part of him whispers that Seungcheol knows this, that he remembers Jeonghan’s favorite colors, that Jeonghan left a sweatshirt on his floor eight years ago and Seungcheol never got rid of it. That Seungcheol still wears it, sometimes.
Everything I wear would be too small for him, Jeonghan reminds himself.
The wedding is in a beautiful rose garden, and the weather is perfect, and Seungcheol looks nervous and handsome in his baby blue suit. Jeonghan gets lucky and doesn’t have to talk to anyone he might know; all of Seungcheol’s friends from college are in his wedding party, so they can’t be seated next to Jeonghan, can’t recognize him from a hasty Sunday morning walk of shame.
They recognize him anyway. He swears Jeon Wonwoo looks right at him and makes the conscious decision not to point him out, pretends he saw nothing, but his eyes are burning holes in Jeonghan’s face for the rest of the ceremony.
Jeonghan ignores it—he’s too busy watching Nayoung swish her way down the aisle in miles of white lace, watching Seungcheol lean forward like he just can’t wait for her, like she’s the thread leading him through a maze. Her hair is dyed blonde, the way Jeonghan’s would be if he was eight years younger.
He blocks out most of the vows, too, afraid that Seungcheol will say something and it will be familiar. Jeonghan doesn’t think he could handle hearing an echo in this cave he’s in, seeing his own shadow on the walls.
Jeonghan tells himself he won’t stay for the reception, and then he does it anyway, because he somehow hasn’t had his fill of setting himself on fire.
The wine is free, at least, and good, but Jeonghan watches Seungcheol and Nayoung sway from across the room and it turns bitter in his mouth. He’s curious, yes, self-destructive, often, but he isn’t stupid. He knew all along why Seungcheol invited him: out of self-indulgence, out of desperation, to prove to himself that he’d moved on and forgotten and didn’t care anymore.
It was selfish of him. Jeonghan is suddenly a thousand times more conscious of the fact that he knows no one here, that he’d never been introduced to Seungcheol’s family or even really to his friends. He’d always been a secret, ushered out of bedrooms and down hallways, fucked with Seungcheol’s mouth against his to keep him quiet, to keep from sharing him.
This was what Seungcheol had wanted, this big fairytale wedding, this gentle press of lips on a dance floor in front of both of their families. The lace that Jeonghan would look good in but never wear, the crowd of people that Jeonghan would hate to stand in front of, the vows that would get stuck syrupy in Jeonghan’s throat.
Jeonghan leaves before Seungcheol can find him. He figures it’s easier to disappear than to look at Seungcheol and say I’m sorry that you wanted me. I’m sorry that I wanted you back.
In another world I wouldn't have let my hair grow out black again. It would have been the golden thread that led you out of the labyrinth.
[FILL] it must be lonely loving someone
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: implied internalized homophobia, slight mention of sex but not overall nsfw, angst, they don't actually interact it's just jeonghan Thinking So Hard
Permission to remix: Please ask
***
When Jeonghan gets the invitation in the mail, he laughs out loud; helplessly, wildly, with disbelief. It comes out of him like he’s a cornered reptile spitting acid. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Choi Seungcheol and Oh Nayoung, reads the dainty script inside the card. Jeonghan would bet money that Nayoung picked it, that she showed Seungcheol and he said sure, darling, whatever you want. He’d always been a bit of a pushover.
There’s a QR code to RSVP online at the bottom. How romantic. Jeonghan shoves the card back into its color-coordinated envelope and leaves it at the bottom of the junk drawer in his kitchen.
But the thing is—he wants to go, if only to look Seungcheol in the eyes and ask why he was invited in the first place. He can imagine what will happen on Seungcheol’s face when he sees him, when he realizes his mistake.
Because it is a mistake. Not just for Jeonghan to be there, but for Seungcheol to remember him at all, for either of them to acknowledge each other; it was a mistake for them to meet and not immediately run in opposite directions without looking back.
Jeonghan goes to the wedding. He scans the stupid code, he marks attending unaccompanied on the little RSVP form, he buys some sort of laundry rack from the registry. He wonders if Seungcheol will see his name under the gift receipt and think of him every time he uses it.
It’s not hard to follow the suggested guest dress code, because the pastel wedding colors match half of Jeonghan’s wardrobe. Some hideous tiny part of him whispers that Seungcheol knows this, that he remembers Jeonghan’s favorite colors, that Jeonghan left a sweatshirt on his floor eight years ago and Seungcheol never got rid of it. That Seungcheol still wears it, sometimes.
Everything I wear would be too small for him, Jeonghan reminds himself.
The wedding is in a beautiful rose garden, and the weather is perfect, and Seungcheol looks nervous and handsome in his baby blue suit. Jeonghan gets lucky and doesn’t have to talk to anyone he might know; all of Seungcheol’s friends from college are in his wedding party, so they can’t be seated next to Jeonghan, can’t recognize him from a hasty Sunday morning walk of shame.
They recognize him anyway. He swears Jeon Wonwoo looks right at him and makes the conscious decision not to point him out, pretends he saw nothing, but his eyes are burning holes in Jeonghan’s face for the rest of the ceremony.
Jeonghan ignores it—he’s too busy watching Nayoung swish her way down the aisle in miles of white lace, watching Seungcheol lean forward like he just can’t wait for her, like she’s the thread leading him through a maze. Her hair is dyed blonde, the way Jeonghan’s would be if he was eight years younger.
He blocks out most of the vows, too, afraid that Seungcheol will say something and it will be familiar. Jeonghan doesn’t think he could handle hearing an echo in this cave he’s in, seeing his own shadow on the walls.
Jeonghan tells himself he won’t stay for the reception, and then he does it anyway, because he somehow hasn’t had his fill of setting himself on fire.
The wine is free, at least, and good, but Jeonghan watches Seungcheol and Nayoung sway from across the room and it turns bitter in his mouth. He’s curious, yes, self-destructive, often, but he isn’t stupid. He knew all along why Seungcheol invited him: out of self-indulgence, out of desperation, to prove to himself that he’d moved on and forgotten and didn’t care anymore.
It was selfish of him. Jeonghan is suddenly a thousand times more conscious of the fact that he knows no one here, that he’d never been introduced to Seungcheol’s family or even really to his friends. He’d always been a secret, ushered out of bedrooms and down hallways, fucked with Seungcheol’s mouth against his to keep him quiet, to keep from sharing him.
This was what Seungcheol had wanted, this big fairytale wedding, this gentle press of lips on a dance floor in front of both of their families. The lace that Jeonghan would look good in but never wear, the crowd of people that Jeonghan would hate to stand in front of, the vows that would get stuck syrupy in Jeonghan’s throat.
Jeonghan leaves before Seungcheol can find him. He figures it’s easier to disappear than to look at Seungcheol and say I’m sorry that you wanted me. I’m sorry that I wanted you back.
In another world I wouldn't have let my hair grow out black again. It would have been the golden thread that led you out of the labyrinth.