Ship/Member: Jeonghan, Seungcheol Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: idolverse, ambiguous relationship Permission to remix: Yes
***
"When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?" —Taylor Swift, Happiness
Seungcheol comes to him after dark.
Jeonghan is almost sleeping, a dream shimmering at the corner of his eye. His shoulder pulls tight no matter which direction he lays in, tension aching through his neck. He’d had it taped today, but the pain never really went away, just ground itself from spikes into stiffness.
Seungcheol steps into the room and—for just a second—all of Jeonghan’s tension undoes itself all at once. Familiar shadow in the door, familiar hand in the dark. His room has a symphony of its own at night—the slow creak of the radiator in the corner, the sigh of floorboards relaxing above him. Occasionally a car will pass by the window, and when he can’t sleep, he’ll wonder where they’re going. Whether they’re missing anything too. But none of that is so comforting as the sound of Seungcheol in his room, his little surprised huff as he trips over Jeonghan’s chair in the dark.
He doesn’t ask anymore before climbing under Jeonghan’s blankets, foot absentmindedly kicking Jeonghan’s shin. This too, is a comfort.
Jeonghan prefers to wait much of the time, to let others speak their worries first, but he’s two thirds to sleeping and besides— It’s Seungcheol. His voice comes out rough with exhaustion. “What is it?”
Seungcheol voice puffs between them. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Jeonghan says, and stops there. He’s too tired to make himself sound believable. “Are you?”
“I’m fine,” Seungcheol says. Jeonghan doesn’t believe the words in his mouth either. Seungcheol reaches out and tangles their fingers together; Jeonghan squeezes back.
They’ve left this conversation half undone before—Jeonghan wakes in the morning with Seungcheol’s arm around his waist, and half the blankets kicked off their feet. Any words they might whisper now are unspeakable in the day. Jeonghan hopes they’ll let them lie again.
This time though, Seungcheol doesn’t leave well enough alone. “When’s the last time we got a break?” he asks, slowly.
Jeonghan flicks back through his memory, tries to think it through. Before their comeback surely… but nothing comes to mind except late night trips to the convenience store and the two day trip he took to see his parents a month before.
Seungcheol continues on when he doesn’t reply. “Have you given your shoulder time to rest lately? Really rest, not just tape it up and move on?”
“The doctor said I’d be fine,” Jeonghan says, which isn’t an answer.
“With rest,” Seungcheol returns.
“And who’s the one keeping me up?” Jeonghan’s starting to wake up a little more, voice sharpening itself on the whetstone dark around them. He feels more than sees Seungcheol suck in a breath.
“I know, sorry. I just worry.” Seungcheol puts a thumb to Jeonghan’s shoulder, right where it aches the most. Doesn’t even have to guess where it hurts, like Jeonghan’s a map rolled out beneath his hand.
Jeonghan covers his hand with his own. “We all worry.” Which doesn’t mean anything other than he understands. No promises included. It’s hard to promise things in their line of work, when schedules fluctuate like the wind and sure things melt like cotton candy in water.
“Have you ever wondered though…” Seungcheol trails off and Jeonghan freezes. He wants to say no, never, but that would be a lie. He knows exactly where Seungcheol is going with this, but he before Jeonghan can stop him, he continues. “Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to quit? Just stop all this? Just… stop?”
Hearing the words out loud is different than hearing them in his own head. Jeonghan knows the sweetness of dreams; they way they linger on the tongue long past dissolving. How quickly that sweetness can go sour. He sucks in a breath of his own, trembling.
“No,” he lies. “I’ve never thought about it.”
Seungcheol doesn’t do him the favor of pretending to believe his words. “We could go together, leave right now. Get in a car and drive until we hit the sea. I’ll get an office job, you can find—”
“Stop.”
The words cracks Jeonghan’s teeth on the way out. He hears the click of Seungcheol’s teeth snapping together against the rasp of his own breathing, too ragged for doing nothing but lying in bed.
“What would you do with a face like mine outside of here?” Jeonghan tries to joke, but it’s too sudden and instead of breaking the tension, his words only make it worse.
(They’re entirely too close to the truth to be funny. How to tell Seungcheol this: he doesn’t know who he’d be if he stopped being Jeonghan of Seventeen. Spend enough time pretending to be someone for everyone and what do you know, it inches close and closer to truth. Jeonghan is Jeonghan because—)
And then, because he is scared and tired and just a little bit angry that Seungcheol would wave a pointless dream in his face, Jeonghan says, “What about your grandmother?”
Here: Jeonghan’s thumb pressed to Seungcheol’s hurt in turn. Here: familiarity, pressing down. Here: knowledge forging weapons. Here: Jeonghan picking up the knife.
“You promised right? It’s just a little longer and we’ll be through these promotions.” Jeonghan hates the words, even as they come out of his mouth. “Would you want to leave the rest of Seventeen behind?”
Jeonghan can’t see Seungcheol’s face, but he can hear his voice, wavering like a candle in high wind. “Right. I did promise.” His hair is no longer red, but Jeonghan still remembers his shining face, his nervous energy when he dyed his whole head the color of a firework in the hopes his grandmother would be able to pick him out of a crowd. Jeonghan knows Seungcheol better than most; he can never resist his family.
“It’ll be ok,” Jeonghan says, and turns around in bed, closing his eyes. The position makes his bad shoulder start to throb again, but he doesn’t turn around.
Behind him: “Hannie.” Whispered like a secret. “I’m tired.”
Jeonghan doesn’t open his eyes. “Go to sleep Seungcheol. We’ve got somewhere to be in the morning.”
***
this ended up leaning more into the bbb square "exploiting intimate knowledge to keep each other limping along and the product functioning" than the quote, sorry for that.
[FILL] all the knives you handed me
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, ambiguous relationship
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Seungcheol comes to him after dark.
Jeonghan is almost sleeping, a dream shimmering at the corner of his eye. His shoulder pulls tight no matter which direction he lays in, tension aching through his neck. He’d had it taped today, but the pain never really went away, just ground itself from spikes into stiffness.
Seungcheol steps into the room and—for just a second—all of Jeonghan’s tension undoes itself all at once. Familiar shadow in the door, familiar hand in the dark. His room has a symphony of its own at night—the slow creak of the radiator in the corner, the sigh of floorboards relaxing above him. Occasionally a car will pass by the window, and when he can’t sleep, he’ll wonder where they’re going. Whether they’re missing anything too. But none of that is so comforting as the sound of Seungcheol in his room, his little surprised huff as he trips over Jeonghan’s chair in the dark.
He doesn’t ask anymore before climbing under Jeonghan’s blankets, foot absentmindedly kicking Jeonghan’s shin. This too, is a comfort.
Jeonghan prefers to wait much of the time, to let others speak their worries first, but he’s two thirds to sleeping and besides— It’s Seungcheol. His voice comes out rough with exhaustion. “What is it?”
Seungcheol voice puffs between them. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Jeonghan says, and stops there. He’s too tired to make himself sound believable. “Are you?”
“I’m fine,” Seungcheol says. Jeonghan doesn’t believe the words in his mouth either. Seungcheol reaches out and tangles their fingers together; Jeonghan squeezes back.
They’ve left this conversation half undone before—Jeonghan wakes in the morning with Seungcheol’s arm around his waist, and half the blankets kicked off their feet. Any words they might whisper now are unspeakable in the day. Jeonghan hopes they’ll let them lie again.
This time though, Seungcheol doesn’t leave well enough alone. “When’s the last time we got a break?” he asks, slowly.
Jeonghan flicks back through his memory, tries to think it through. Before their comeback surely… but nothing comes to mind except late night trips to the convenience store and the two day trip he took to see his parents a month before.
Seungcheol continues on when he doesn’t reply. “Have you given your shoulder time to rest lately? Really rest, not just tape it up and move on?”
“The doctor said I’d be fine,” Jeonghan says, which isn’t an answer.
“With rest,” Seungcheol returns.
“And who’s the one keeping me up?” Jeonghan’s starting to wake up a little more, voice sharpening itself on the whetstone dark around them. He feels more than sees Seungcheol suck in a breath.
“I know, sorry. I just worry.” Seungcheol puts a thumb to Jeonghan’s shoulder, right where it aches the most. Doesn’t even have to guess where it hurts, like Jeonghan’s a map rolled out beneath his hand.
Jeonghan covers his hand with his own. “We all worry.” Which doesn’t mean anything other than he understands. No promises included. It’s hard to promise things in their line of work, when schedules fluctuate like the wind and sure things melt like cotton candy in water.
“Have you ever wondered though…” Seungcheol trails off and Jeonghan freezes. He wants to say no, never, but that would be a lie. He knows exactly where Seungcheol is going with this, but he before Jeonghan can stop him, he continues. “Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to quit? Just stop all this? Just… stop?”
Hearing the words out loud is different than hearing them in his own head. Jeonghan knows the sweetness of dreams; they way they linger on the tongue long past dissolving. How quickly that sweetness can go sour. He sucks in a breath of his own, trembling.
“No,” he lies. “I’ve never thought about it.”
Seungcheol doesn’t do him the favor of pretending to believe his words. “We could go together, leave right now. Get in a car and drive until we hit the sea. I’ll get an office job, you can find—”
“Stop.”
The words cracks Jeonghan’s teeth on the way out. He hears the click of Seungcheol’s teeth snapping together against the rasp of his own breathing, too ragged for doing nothing but lying in bed.
“What would you do with a face like mine outside of here?” Jeonghan tries to joke, but it’s too sudden and instead of breaking the tension, his words only make it worse.
(They’re entirely too close to the truth to be funny. How to tell Seungcheol this: he doesn’t know who he’d be if he stopped being Jeonghan of Seventeen. Spend enough time pretending to be someone for everyone and what do you know, it inches close and closer to truth. Jeonghan is Jeonghan because—)
And then, because he is scared and tired and just a little bit angry that Seungcheol would wave a pointless dream in his face, Jeonghan says, “What about your grandmother?”
Here: Jeonghan’s thumb pressed to Seungcheol’s hurt in turn. Here: familiarity, pressing down. Here: knowledge forging weapons. Here: Jeonghan picking up the knife.
“You promised right? It’s just a little longer and we’ll be through these promotions.” Jeonghan hates the words, even as they come out of his mouth. “Would you want to leave the rest of Seventeen behind?”
Jeonghan can’t see Seungcheol’s face, but he can hear his voice, wavering like a candle in high wind. “Right. I did promise.” His hair is no longer red, but Jeonghan still remembers his shining face, his nervous energy when he dyed his whole head the color of a firework in the hopes his grandmother would be able to pick him out of a crowd. Jeonghan knows Seungcheol better than most; he can never resist his family.
“It’ll be ok,” Jeonghan says, and turns around in bed, closing his eyes. The position makes his bad shoulder start to throb again, but he doesn’t turn around.
Behind him: “Hannie.” Whispered like a secret. “I’m tired.”
Jeonghan doesn’t open his eyes. “Go to sleep Seungcheol. We’ve got somewhere to be in the morning.”
***
this ended up leaning more into the bbb square "exploiting intimate knowledge to keep each other limping along and the product functioning" than the quote, sorry for that.