Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Jeonghan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: Ambiguous relationships, Modern AU Permission to remix: Yes *** Yoon Jeonghan is a terrible wingman.
First, because he’s so disarmingly handsome that it’s very likely whoever he’s talking to ends up becoming more interested in him than in the person he’s supposed to be advocating for.
Second, because he laughs too much. Telling jokes isn’t an issue, except when it’s impossible to tell at whose expense they are.
Third, because there’s a 60% chance that anything Yoon Jeonghan says is a lie.
“Well, it’s not like he can help the first thing,” Wonwoo says, picking at the ramen that his roommate had made for him after a night out. He’d opened a pack of seaweed to eat with it and put it directly on the bare table, the greasy plastic tub sliding away ever so slightly when he reaches in to pull out a piece.
“He sort of can though, don’t you think?” Seungkwan puts a napkin down.
Wonwoo shrugs, slurping at the noodles. “You’ve met him. It’s not his fault he looks like that.”
“Sure,” Seungkwan says. “Handsome is one thing. You’re good-looking too, hyung. But he doesn’t have to be that charming when he’s helping you pick up some girl.”
“It’s just the way he is.”
“Hm. So they ended up going home together instead?”
“What? No.” Wonwoo frowns. “What?” The girl, who Wonwoo had approached because he recognized her as a senior from his university days, had been — frankly, quite boring, as well as disinterested. Wonwoo had seen her talking to some up-and-coming Instagram model as they were leaving the bar.
Seungkwan squints at Wonwoo for a moment, like he thinks he’s playing dumb, but doesn’t press the issue. “Never mind.” He checks his phone and gets up. “Good night, hyung.”
“Mhm,” Wonwoo hums, picking up the last piece of seaweed and wrapping it around a big bite of noodles to finish the bowl. He wipes his mouth with the napkin, not noticing that the corner is translucent and damp with oil until it smears unpleasantly against his skin.
//
Once, Jeonghan told a girl that Wonwoo was a medical student at Seoul National. Which was ridiculous, because they were at a bar on a Wednesday evening on the south side of the Han River. The girl turned out to work in billings at a hospital in the area, and Wonwoo had stammered something about cardiology before coming up with a terrible excuse about a friend needing help moving at 9PM to leave the conversation abruptly.
Another time, Jeonghan introduced himself as Wonwoo’s ex-boyfriend.
“Oh, it was ages ago,” the older said cheerily, nodding towards the man Wonwoo had been talking to. “College. Ancient history.” Wonwoo tried to turn his grimace into a grin.
“But you’re… friends now?” The man seemed — not entirely put off, but not completely unfazed, either.
“Well, of course.” Jeonghan clapped Wonwoo on the back. “Our Wonwoo here is just such a great guy. Smart, kind. Wrote me poems all the time, but he would never admit they were for me. He was too good for me, you know. Never would have worked. But I want him to be happy. Did you know he volunteers at a cat shelter?” He smiled that full-teeth smile.
“I love cats,” the man said, turning his attention back to Wonwoo. “Do you have any?”
“He has three,” Jeonghan replied before Wonwoo could. “Cherry, Ggumi, and Uju. Cute, right?”
The man’s face lit up. “Those are great names,” he said sincerely. “How old are they?”
“Thanks.” Wonwoo winced. “Um, four and two, and… seven months?” Jeonghan left the two of them to coo about kittens, finishing his drink, and another, at the bar.
Afterwards, Wonwoo let Jeonghan hold onto his arm as they made their way towards the train station.
“You got that guy’s number, right?”
Wonwoo nodded.
“Good. He was cute. Seems your type.” They reached the entrance to the station, and Wonwoo stood to the side to let people pass them.
“Hyung.” He paused, fidgeting. Jeonghan was looking past him, his face washed out by the bright storefronts. His unwound scarf was dangling uselessly around his neck despite the chill.
Wonwoo sighed. “You know I only have two cats, right?”
Jeonghan laughed. “But wouldn’t it be cute if you got a new kitten?” He poked Wonwoo in the chest. “You’ll need to, if he ever comes over.”
Wonwoo rolled his eyes and started down the steps towards the warmth of subway station. “Yeah. I guess so.”
//
“Wonwoo-ya, hyung’s coming down with a cold,” Jeonghan sniffles dramatically as he comes in from the foyer.
“There’s ramen in the pantry,” Wonwoo responds from where he’s lying on the couch, watching a video on his phone. Jeonghan peers into the cabinet to find a single pack of dried pollack and two bowls of microwave rice.
“I’m sure your mother didn’t raise you to be such a terrible host.” Jeonghan pulls up a delivery app and types in the name of a juk restaurant in the neighborhood.
Wonwoo puts away his phone and pulls himself into a seated position. “We haven’t had guests over in a while. By the way,” he raises his voice slightly, “where were you last night? We called you to come out for drinks after you got off work.”
“I had a date,” Jeonghan says, grinning mischievously. “I met someone at the flower shop a few days ago —“
“Seokmin told me he saw you eating alone at a restaurant near Yongsan station.”
The moment is incredibly untriumphant.
Jeonghan looks up from his phone. “It’s not like you to reveal your hand so quickly,” he comments.
Wonwoo pulls his sleeves down, willing away a sheepish expression. “I just wanted to see what you’d say first.”
“It’s also not like you to give up a chance to gloat.” Jeonghan pauses, but there’s no rebuttal. Wonwoo’s nose twitches. He looks to the side. “Anyway,” Jeonghan continues indifferently, “if you’d let me finish, I was going to say that I got stood up. But I went all the way there, so I figured I might as well get a good meal out of it.”
“Oh.” Wonwoo adjusts the frame of his glasses hesitatingly. “Uh, sorry, hyung. That’s shitty.”
Jeonghan shrugs. “If it can happen to someone as good-looking as me,” he says, brandishing the phone towards the living room. “You better watch out, Wonwoo-ya.”
Wonwoo huffs a sharp laugh.
“How were drinks, then?” The default address in the delivery app is already set to Wonwoo’s apartment. Jeonghan orders enough to guarantee that there will be leftovers after they’re both done eating.
“Eh.”
“Anything interesting happen?”
There's an unanswered message in Wonwoo’s KakaoTalk, an invitation to dinner and a movie on Friday night. He's only ever been good at lying by omission.
“Nah. Would've been better if you were there.”
Jeonghan confirms the order and levels him with an amused look. “Do you really mean that, Jeon Wonwoo?”
60% is more than half, but it's hardly a reassuring statistic.
Wonwoo’s covered fingers curl into his palms as he nods. “Of course, hyung.”
[FILL] 또 거짓말을 해
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: Ambiguous relationships, Modern AU
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Yoon Jeonghan is a terrible wingman.
First, because he’s so disarmingly handsome that it’s very likely whoever he’s talking to ends up becoming more interested in him than in the person he’s supposed to be advocating for.
Second, because he laughs too much. Telling jokes isn’t an issue, except when it’s impossible to tell at whose expense they are.
Third, because there’s a 60% chance that anything Yoon Jeonghan says is a lie.
“Well, it’s not like he can help the first thing,” Wonwoo says, picking at the ramen that his roommate had made for him after a night out. He’d opened a pack of seaweed to eat with it and put it directly on the bare table, the greasy plastic tub sliding away ever so slightly when he reaches in to pull out a piece.
“He sort of can though, don’t you think?” Seungkwan puts a napkin down.
Wonwoo shrugs, slurping at the noodles. “You’ve met him. It’s not his fault he looks like that.”
“Sure,” Seungkwan says. “Handsome is one thing. You’re good-looking too, hyung. But he doesn’t have to be that charming when he’s helping you pick up some girl.”
“It’s just the way he is.”
“Hm. So they ended up going home together instead?”
“What? No.” Wonwoo frowns. “What?” The girl, who Wonwoo had approached because he recognized her as a senior from his university days, had been — frankly, quite boring, as well as disinterested. Wonwoo had seen her talking to some up-and-coming Instagram model as they were leaving the bar.
Seungkwan squints at Wonwoo for a moment, like he thinks he’s playing dumb, but doesn’t press the issue. “Never mind.” He checks his phone and gets up. “Good night, hyung.”
“Mhm,” Wonwoo hums, picking up the last piece of seaweed and wrapping it around a big bite of noodles to finish the bowl. He wipes his mouth with the napkin, not noticing that the corner is translucent and damp with oil until it smears unpleasantly against his skin.
//
Once, Jeonghan told a girl that Wonwoo was a medical student at Seoul National. Which was ridiculous, because they were at a bar on a Wednesday evening on the south side of the Han River. The girl turned out to work in billings at a hospital in the area, and Wonwoo had stammered something about cardiology before coming up with a terrible excuse about a friend needing help moving at 9PM to leave the conversation abruptly.
Another time, Jeonghan introduced himself as Wonwoo’s ex-boyfriend.
“Oh, it was ages ago,” the older said cheerily, nodding towards the man Wonwoo had been talking to. “College. Ancient history.” Wonwoo tried to turn his grimace into a grin.
“But you’re… friends now?” The man seemed — not entirely put off, but not completely unfazed, either.
“Well, of course.” Jeonghan clapped Wonwoo on the back. “Our Wonwoo here is just such a great guy. Smart, kind. Wrote me poems all the time, but he would never admit they were for me. He was too good for me, you know. Never would have worked. But I want him to be happy. Did you know he volunteers at a cat shelter?” He smiled that full-teeth smile.
“I love cats,” the man said, turning his attention back to Wonwoo. “Do you have any?”
“He has three,” Jeonghan replied before Wonwoo could. “Cherry, Ggumi, and Uju. Cute, right?”
The man’s face lit up. “Those are great names,” he said sincerely. “How old are they?”
“Thanks.” Wonwoo winced. “Um, four and two, and… seven months?” Jeonghan left the two of them to coo about kittens, finishing his drink, and another, at the bar.
Afterwards, Wonwoo let Jeonghan hold onto his arm as they made their way towards the train station.
“You got that guy’s number, right?”
Wonwoo nodded.
“Good. He was cute. Seems your type.” They reached the entrance to the station, and Wonwoo stood to the side to let people pass them.
“Hyung.” He paused, fidgeting. Jeonghan was looking past him, his face washed out by the bright storefronts. His unwound scarf was dangling uselessly around his neck despite the chill.
Wonwoo sighed. “You know I only have two cats, right?”
Jeonghan laughed. “But wouldn’t it be cute if you got a new kitten?” He poked Wonwoo in the chest. “You’ll need to, if he ever comes over.”
Wonwoo rolled his eyes and started down the steps towards the warmth of subway station. “Yeah. I guess so.”
//
“Wonwoo-ya, hyung’s coming down with a cold,” Jeonghan sniffles dramatically as he comes in from the foyer.
“There’s ramen in the pantry,” Wonwoo responds from where he’s lying on the couch, watching a video on his phone. Jeonghan peers into the cabinet to find a single pack of dried pollack and two bowls of microwave rice.
“I’m sure your mother didn’t raise you to be such a terrible host.” Jeonghan pulls up a delivery app and types in the name of a juk restaurant in the neighborhood.
Wonwoo puts away his phone and pulls himself into a seated position. “We haven’t had guests over in a while. By the way,” he raises his voice slightly, “where were you last night? We called you to come out for drinks after you got off work.”
“I had a date,” Jeonghan says, grinning mischievously. “I met someone at the flower shop a few days ago —“
“Seokmin told me he saw you eating alone at a restaurant near Yongsan station.”
The moment is incredibly untriumphant.
Jeonghan looks up from his phone. “It’s not like you to reveal your hand so quickly,” he comments.
Wonwoo pulls his sleeves down, willing away a sheepish expression. “I just wanted to see what you’d say first.”
“It’s also not like you to give up a chance to gloat.” Jeonghan pauses, but there’s no rebuttal. Wonwoo’s nose twitches. He looks to the side. “Anyway,” Jeonghan continues indifferently, “if you’d let me finish, I was going to say that I got stood up. But I went all the way there, so I figured I might as well get a good meal out of it.”
“Oh.” Wonwoo adjusts the frame of his glasses hesitatingly. “Uh, sorry, hyung. That’s shitty.”
Jeonghan shrugs. “If it can happen to someone as good-looking as me,” he says, brandishing the phone towards the living room. “You better watch out, Wonwoo-ya.”
Wonwoo huffs a sharp laugh.
“How were drinks, then?” The default address in the delivery app is already set to Wonwoo’s apartment. Jeonghan orders enough to guarantee that there will be leftovers after they’re both done eating.
“Eh.”
“Anything interesting happen?”
There's an unanswered message in Wonwoo’s KakaoTalk, an invitation to dinner and a movie on Friday night. He's only ever been good at lying by omission.
“Nah. Would've been better if you were there.”
Jeonghan confirms the order and levels him with an amused look. “Do you really mean that, Jeon Wonwoo?”
60% is more than half, but it's hardly a reassuring statistic.
Wonwoo’s covered fingers curl into his palms as he nods. “Of course, hyung.”