Ship/Member: Vernon/Seungkwan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: generic non-famous AU, ambiguous relationship Permission to remix: Yes
*** Since Hansol quit smoking, he’s never been sure how to leave the room at parties. He wishes Mingyu had a cat he could follow out into the hallway, but that’s not likely to happen any time soon, so he’s stuck wandering back into the kitchen to refill his drink, which he’s already done a few too many times tonight. He wishes it would take on some kind of softening effect, but instead the alcohol is just throwing some things into too-sharp relief, moments landing too hard and then looping like a scratched record: the explosive burst of Chan’s laughter over the music, Mingyu’s hand on Seungkwan’s knee, Bin’s head on Seungkwan’s shoulder, and Seungkwan’s pleased, flushed face at the center of it all. Everyone turning toward a small sun.
Joshua’s in the kitchen with Jeonghan, talking about whatever it is Joshua and Jeonghan talk about when they’re alone, and he looks a little relieved to have something to distract him when he notices Hansol.
“Drink this,” he says, guiding a glass of water that’s materialized from somewhere into Hansol’s hand. Hansol obeys, though chugging the glass mostly just makes him more aware of how drunk he is.
“You okay?” Joshua asks, eyes crinkling in concern. Hansol considers it. People always tell him he’s hard to read, so if Joshua’s picked up on whatever he thinks he’s picked up on, he must seem pretty miserable.
Which is stupid, because there’s nothing to be miserable about. Just people having a good time, and him running up against the wall, caught in his own head the whole night. He’s spent so much time convinced he can’t be a jealous person — he’s always just let things wash over him. He doesn’t like the possibility that he’s been the possessive type all along and he’s just never had a reason to care enough for it to come out.
But he hasn’t answered Josh. “Everything’s good,” he says, because that’s objectively true: he’s not enough of an asshole to think he deserves Seungkwan’s undivided attention at all times, or that he should be the only one to notice how brilliant and funny and — Well, to notice the things that Seungkwan is. “It’s just kind of,” he shrugs ineloquently.
“The vibes are off?” Joshua asks in English, gently teasing, and he scoffs.
“Bad vibes, sure,” he concedes. “Well, not bad. Could be better. I guess I’m just tired.”
“You’re not the only one,” Jeonghan says, abruptly dropping his polite feigned interest in something on his phone. “I never even wanted to come out tonight, and now Minggoo’s music is giving me a migraine.” Even Hansol’s drunk brain is pretty sure this is one of Jeonghan’s lies—Mingyu’s been playing one of his slow jazz playlists over his expensive new sound system, although maybe that is the kind of music that gives Jeonghan a migraine—but it might be one of his considerate lies. The suspicion is confirmed when he asks, nonchalant, “Want to split a taxi? Your new place is near Sinchon-dong, right?”
Hansol doesn’t like pity, especially pity he doesn’t deserve, even if he’s shamefully grateful for the offer. Jeonghan’s kindness should have stopped seeming unpredictable a while ago, but he’s still taken aback in spite of himself. “Hyung, you don’t have to—” he starts, but Jeonghan cuts in breezily.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve been wanting to go home since I got here, and Joshuji’s been boring me to death—” Joshua subtly fixes his shirt collar with his middle finger. “—And now I’m hearing the vibes are bad. We should get out of here, Hansol-ah.”
Seungkwan catches them in the stairwell, an inexplicable urgency in his face. “Are you going out to smoke?” he demands. In the narrow landing, his voice echoes strangely.
How long has Hansol been this easy to please, delighted just to be able to say that Seungkwan chased after him? “I quit, remember?” he asks. Jeonghan, a few steps down, politely busies himself with his phone again.
Seungkwan pouts, lip jutting out distractingly. “Of course I remember! I just thought you might’ve... un-quit.”
“I appreciate your faith in me,” Hansol says, going for mock-grave but unable to stop himself from smiling. “Nah, I’m just kind of tired and hyung wasn’t feeling great so we decided to head out early.”
“Oh! So you’re not...” Seungkwan glances between him and Jeonghan, something complicated passing his face that Hansol probably couldn’t parse even if he were stone cold sober. He thinks he gets the implication, though, and for some reason feels faintly mortified, even though he’s sure pretty much anyone would be flattered if someone assumed they were going home with Jeonghan in that way. Seungkwan seems to be embarrassed by his own misunderstanding, and quickly calls out, “Hyung! You’re still taking those supplements I gave you?”
“Every day, Kwan-ah,” Jeonghan confirms, sunny, still not looking up from his phone.
As they stand there, ten stairs apart, Hansol can’t shake the feeling that they aren’t so far from — something. If Jeonghan weren’t waiting there pretending to ignore them, or if Hansol hadn’t been so jealous and then been a coward about it... but even sorting through those possibilities, he can’t put a name to what he thinks could be on the other side of it all.
“Well, I’m glad you guys came,” Seungkwan says, as if he were the host, and because he’s Seungkwan he truly does look glad. Hansol wills himself to make this one of the moments that sticks and repeats, Seungkwan’s warm smile and crescent eyes.
“It was good to see you,” he says, which is all wrong, weirdly formal, but he thinks Seungkwan knows what he meant.
Someday, he decides, making it for the first time a promise to himself, he’ll try to put it in all the right words.
[FILL] heliotropism
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: generic non-famous AU, ambiguous relationship
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Since Hansol quit smoking, he’s never been sure how to leave the room at parties. He wishes Mingyu had a cat he could follow out into the hallway, but that’s not likely to happen any time soon, so he’s stuck wandering back into the kitchen to refill his drink, which he’s already done a few too many times tonight. He wishes it would take on some kind of softening effect, but instead the alcohol is just throwing some things into too-sharp relief, moments landing too hard and then looping like a scratched record: the explosive burst of Chan’s laughter over the music, Mingyu’s hand on Seungkwan’s knee, Bin’s head on Seungkwan’s shoulder, and Seungkwan’s pleased, flushed face at the center of it all. Everyone turning toward a small sun.
Joshua’s in the kitchen with Jeonghan, talking about whatever it is Joshua and Jeonghan talk about when they’re alone, and he looks a little relieved to have something to distract him when he notices Hansol.
“Drink this,” he says, guiding a glass of water that’s materialized from somewhere into Hansol’s hand. Hansol obeys, though chugging the glass mostly just makes him more aware of how drunk he is.
“You okay?” Joshua asks, eyes crinkling in concern. Hansol considers it. People always tell him he’s hard to read, so if Joshua’s picked up on whatever he thinks he’s picked up on, he must seem pretty miserable.
Which is stupid, because there’s nothing to be miserable about. Just people having a good time, and him running up against the wall, caught in his own head the whole night. He’s spent so much time convinced he can’t be a jealous person — he’s always just let things wash over him. He doesn’t like the possibility that he’s been the possessive type all along and he’s just never had a reason to care enough for it to come out.
But he hasn’t answered Josh. “Everything’s good,” he says, because that’s objectively true: he’s not enough of an asshole to think he deserves Seungkwan’s undivided attention at all times, or that he should be the only one to notice how brilliant and funny and — Well, to notice the things that Seungkwan is. “It’s just kind of,” he shrugs ineloquently.
“The vibes are off?” Joshua asks in English, gently teasing, and he scoffs.
“Bad vibes, sure,” he concedes. “Well, not bad. Could be better. I guess I’m just tired.”
“You’re not the only one,” Jeonghan says, abruptly dropping his polite feigned interest in something on his phone. “I never even wanted to come out tonight, and now Minggoo’s music is giving me a migraine.” Even Hansol’s drunk brain is pretty sure this is one of Jeonghan’s lies—Mingyu’s been playing one of his slow jazz playlists over his expensive new sound system, although maybe that is the kind of music that gives Jeonghan a migraine—but it might be one of his considerate lies. The suspicion is confirmed when he asks, nonchalant, “Want to split a taxi? Your new place is near Sinchon-dong, right?”
Hansol doesn’t like pity, especially pity he doesn’t deserve, even if he’s shamefully grateful for the offer. Jeonghan’s kindness should have stopped seeming unpredictable a while ago, but he’s still taken aback in spite of himself. “Hyung, you don’t have to—” he starts, but Jeonghan cuts in breezily.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve been wanting to go home since I got here, and Joshuji’s been boring me to death—” Joshua subtly fixes his shirt collar with his middle finger. “—And now I’m hearing the vibes are bad. We should get out of here, Hansol-ah.”
Seungkwan catches them in the stairwell, an inexplicable urgency in his face. “Are you going out to smoke?” he demands. In the narrow landing, his voice echoes strangely.
How long has Hansol been this easy to please, delighted just to be able to say that Seungkwan chased after him? “I quit, remember?” he asks. Jeonghan, a few steps down, politely busies himself with his phone again.
Seungkwan pouts, lip jutting out distractingly. “Of course I remember! I just thought you might’ve... un-quit.”
“I appreciate your faith in me,” Hansol says, going for mock-grave but unable to stop himself from smiling. “Nah, I’m just kind of tired and hyung wasn’t feeling great so we decided to head out early.”
“Oh! So you’re not...” Seungkwan glances between him and Jeonghan, something complicated passing his face that Hansol probably couldn’t parse even if he were stone cold sober. He thinks he gets the implication, though, and for some reason feels faintly mortified, even though he’s sure pretty much anyone would be flattered if someone assumed they were going home with Jeonghan in that way. Seungkwan seems to be embarrassed by his own misunderstanding, and quickly calls out, “Hyung! You’re still taking those supplements I gave you?”
“Every day, Kwan-ah,” Jeonghan confirms, sunny, still not looking up from his phone.
As they stand there, ten stairs apart, Hansol can’t shake the feeling that they aren’t so far from — something. If Jeonghan weren’t waiting there pretending to ignore them, or if Hansol hadn’t been so jealous and then been a coward about it... but even sorting through those possibilities, he can’t put a name to what he thinks could be on the other side of it all.
“Well, I’m glad you guys came,” Seungkwan says, as if he were the host, and because he’s Seungkwan he truly does look glad. Hansol wills himself to make this one of the moments that sticks and repeats, Seungkwan’s warm smile and crescent eyes.
“It was good to see you,” he says, which is all wrong, weirdly formal, but he thinks Seungkwan knows what he meant.
Someday, he decides, making it for the first time a promise to himself, he’ll try to put it in all the right words.