Ship/Member: Jeonghan & Joshua, Joshua/Original Female Character Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: post-disbandment, you've moved on and i haven't and doesn't that just fucking suck Permission to remix: ask!
***
He doesn’t expect to run into Joshua on a Friday evening.
Jeonghan didn’t intentionally lose everyone’s number after their disbandment, or so he says. If anyone asks, he got sick of receiving phone calls from sasaengs even after months of no longer being Seventeen’s Jeonghan, and just never transferred his contacts over to his new phone. This is true, but there’s still something to be said about the remainder of his contacts somehow making it onto his new device sans the twelve men he considered family.
He’s been more or less dragged into spending time with some of them, the ones that insisted on staying friends — Seungcheol hunted him down, and Seungkwan and Mingyu harassed (read: begged) him for Jeonghan’s new number — but eventually they stopped bothering him as often once they realized he had no desire to reciprocate their friendship. Jeonghan didn’t see the point.
His biggest hang-up was that everyone else seemed to move on with their life, onto bigger and better things, while Jeonghan — didn’t.
So why has the universe decided he needs to see Joshua Hong across the street with a woman hanging off his arm?
He considers his options, if ducking around the corner and blending in with the trash was worth it. Or maybe — manifest enough confidence to walk across the crosswalk and continue heading back to his apartment while pretending seeing his face doesn’t threaten to send him back to the confusing twist of numb-relief-anguish from a year ago when three of them voted on disbanding.
Jeonghan was one of them.
Then we’re done, Seungcheol had said with a finality that felt like a punch to the gut.
But he’s awfully curious; who was the woman pressed into his side, chatting animatedly as she gestured to the pastry display through the window? And why did Joshua look so lively, meeting her eyes with a gaze dripping with fondness?
When is it my turn to be that happy?
The crosswalk dings, alerting him it’s his turn to cross, and Jeonghan steels himself, eyes downcast and mask secured over the lower half of his face. If he just keeps walking, keeps minding his business, don’t look don’t look don’t fucking look —
Dammit.
Joshua’s eyes widen in recognition, lips parting in surprise. Jeonghan’s speed-walking slows to a stop a few feet from them, hesitant to cross that invisible line that he’s already invaded since the moment he noticed Joshua. He doesn’t dare come any closer, letting Joshua make that decision for them.
And he does; Joshua offers his friend — girlfriend? wife? fuck fuck fuck — a glance before stepping forward with her still by his side, eyeing Jeonghan with a curious tilt of her head. He’s closer now, leaving a polite foot between them, and Jeonghan swallows thickly, wondering what Joshua sees in their proximity.
“Jeonghan,” he greets softly, awed. Jeonghan hides his grimace behind the safety of his mask, cringing at the squeeze that does to his insides. “Jeonghan-ah,” with more confidence this time, like he’s realized Jeonghan isn’t an illusion.
“Hey,” is all Jeonghan’s lame brain can come up with, avoiding the stare that Joshua’s girlfriend-wife-whatever is burning into the side of his face.
If Jeonghan’s lackluster response bothers him, Joshua doesn’t show it. “Is life treating you well?” he asks, like they’re just buddies that happened to run into each other.
Like there wasn’t a thick, however unspoken, tension between the two of them their entire career that neither could acknowledge for fear of losing their jobs.
“Ah, well,” Jeonghan answers vaguely, waving his hand in a so-so gesture. And things are already awkward enough, so he bites the bullet and goes, “And who’s your friend here?”
Jeonghan tries his best (but not really) when he hums in surprise, nodding. “Congratulations,” he offers. It falls flat.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Soonhee says, but Jeonghan barely hears her, gaze lingering on an empty box of cigarettes on the ground. He’ll have to take a trip to the convenience store on the way home.
“I need to get going.” Jeonghan jerks a thumb behind him, indicating the direction of his apartment. Joshua doesn’t need to know that isn’t the right way. “It was nice meeting you.” It wasn’t.
When he looks up, Joshua offers him a look that’s simultaneously too much and not enough all in one, lips pressed in a worried line. He looks like he wants to say more — beg me to stay — but Jeonghan turns away before he can get a word in.
Joshua doesn’t call out for him, doesn’t stop him, and that’s all Jeonghan needs to know nothing’s going to change.
[FILL] do you think i'm a loser?
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: post-disbandment, you've moved on and i haven't and doesn't that just fucking suck
Permission to remix: ask!
***
He doesn’t expect to run into Joshua on a Friday evening.
Jeonghan didn’t intentionally lose everyone’s number after their disbandment, or so he says. If anyone asks, he got sick of receiving phone calls from sasaengs even after months of no longer being Seventeen’s Jeonghan, and just never transferred his contacts over to his new phone. This is true, but there’s still something to be said about the remainder of his contacts somehow making it onto his new device sans the twelve men he considered family.
He’s been more or less dragged into spending time with some of them, the ones that insisted on staying friends — Seungcheol hunted him down, and Seungkwan and Mingyu harassed (read: begged) him for Jeonghan’s new number — but eventually they stopped bothering him as often once they realized he had no desire to reciprocate their friendship. Jeonghan didn’t see the point.
His biggest hang-up was that everyone else seemed to move on with their life, onto bigger and better things, while Jeonghan — didn’t.
So why has the universe decided he needs to see Joshua Hong across the street with a woman hanging off his arm?
He considers his options, if ducking around the corner and blending in with the trash was worth it. Or maybe — manifest enough confidence to walk across the crosswalk and continue heading back to his apartment while pretending seeing his face doesn’t threaten to send him back to the confusing twist of numb-relief-anguish from a year ago when three of them voted on disbanding.
Jeonghan was one of them.
Then we’re done, Seungcheol had said with a finality that felt like a punch to the gut.
But he’s awfully curious; who was the woman pressed into his side, chatting animatedly as she gestured to the pastry display through the window? And why did Joshua look so lively, meeting her eyes with a gaze dripping with fondness?
When is it my turn to be that happy?
The crosswalk dings, alerting him it’s his turn to cross, and Jeonghan steels himself, eyes downcast and mask secured over the lower half of his face. If he just keeps walking, keeps minding his business, don’t look don’t look don’t fucking look —
Dammit.
Joshua’s eyes widen in recognition, lips parting in surprise. Jeonghan’s speed-walking slows to a stop a few feet from them, hesitant to cross that invisible line that he’s already invaded since the moment he noticed Joshua. He doesn’t dare come any closer, letting Joshua make that decision for them.
And he does; Joshua offers his friend — girlfriend? wife? fuck fuck fuck — a glance before stepping forward with her still by his side, eyeing Jeonghan with a curious tilt of her head. He’s closer now, leaving a polite foot between them, and Jeonghan swallows thickly, wondering what Joshua sees in their proximity.
“Jeonghan,” he greets softly, awed. Jeonghan hides his grimace behind the safety of his mask, cringing at the squeeze that does to his insides. “Jeonghan-ah,” with more confidence this time, like he’s realized Jeonghan isn’t an illusion.
“Hey,” is all Jeonghan’s lame brain can come up with, avoiding the stare that Joshua’s girlfriend-wife-whatever is burning into the side of his face.
If Jeonghan’s lackluster response bothers him, Joshua doesn’t show it. “Is life treating you well?” he asks, like they’re just buddies that happened to run into each other.
Like there wasn’t a thick, however unspoken, tension between the two of them their entire career that neither could acknowledge for fear of losing their jobs.“Ah, well,” Jeonghan answers vaguely, waving his hand in a so-so gesture. And things are already awkward enough, so he bites the bullet and goes, “And who’s your friend here?”
Joshua beams at that, lips curled into a pleased smile. He rests a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, bringing her just a smidge closer. “This is my fiancé, Soonhee.”
Aha. There it is.
Jeonghan tries his best (but not really) when he hums in surprise, nodding. “Congratulations,” he offers. It falls flat.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Soonhee says, but Jeonghan barely hears her, gaze lingering on an empty box of cigarettes on the ground. He’ll have to take a trip to the convenience store on the way home.
“I need to get going.” Jeonghan jerks a thumb behind him, indicating the direction of his apartment. Joshua doesn’t need to know that isn’t the right way. “It was nice meeting you.” It wasn’t.
When he looks up, Joshua offers him a look that’s simultaneously too much and not enough all in one, lips pressed in a worried line. He looks like he wants to say more — beg me to stay — but Jeonghan turns away before he can get a word in.
Joshua doesn’t call out for him, doesn’t stop him, and that’s all Jeonghan needs to know nothing’s going to change.