Chapter Text
Yoon Jeonghan has, as Seungcheol’s mother might say, a flair for the dramatic. He blames it on his Libra sun and Aquarius moon - whatever the fuck that means - but really it’s just who he is. Even though Seungcheol’s only known him maybe a year he can just tell.
Yoon Jeonghan is dramatic.
So when he comes pounding on Seungcheol’s door at like two a.m. - in the fucking morning because of course - at first Seungcheol decides to take whatever’s going on with a grain of salt. Several massive grains of salt, honestly. Because it’s always something with Jeonghan. But really, Seungcheol has only himself to blame. He’s the one who set himself apart as Helpful, Upstanding Neighbor the day Jeonghan moved in by helping him carry shit up from his moving truck. And it’s only gone on from there to the point where Jeonghan needs anything, and he’ll go to Seungcheol. Because Seungcheol’s an idiot.
And a sucker for a pretty face.
Yoon Jeonghan is definitely pretty. Even now, panting and obviously flustered, in a big t-shirt that hits mid-thigh and stained sweatpants. His ear-length blonde hair is mussed up on one side, like he’d been sleeping (and just why the fuck doesn’t he go back to sleep? Surely whatever it is can wait till a more reasonable time of day) and his impossibly perfect face somehow looks more handsome without makeup, even in the lowlight of their building’s hallway.
Seungcheol sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What is it, Jeonghan?”
“I -I was sleeping and I heard - s-something! It was really loud and I think someone might be t-trying to break in and - “
Jesus. Seungcheol sighs once more, wipes a hand down his face. “Call the cops then. Why’d you come to me?”
He scowls and completely throws all social construct to the wind when he hits Seungcheol’s shoulder with more force than is necessary from a neighbor in distress. In fact, neighbors needing help really shouldn’t punch those they’re seeking help from. But at this point, Seungcheol’s used to it. Again, dramatic. “Just please come with me and check it out,” he whines. “I know you’re a black belt in taekwondo so - “
“So if someone is trying to break in you want me to kick their ass and then explain to a cop why I attacked someone breaking into my neighbor’s apartment?”
Jeonghan whines again and reaches out for another hardly friendly shoulder punch. This one actually sends a sharp pain through his body and he doesn’t even try to hide his wince. “Please Seungcheol? I’m really scared. I promise this isn’t like last time, I really think someone’s trying to break in. Please!”
Last time meaning a couple months ago when he’d invited Cheol over for a movie night and they’d watched Train to Busan and maybe an hour after Seungcheol left, Jeonghan had called him because he thought he heard someone on his balcony “and if it’s a fucking zombie I’m not dealing with it”.
To which Seungcheol had reminded him, maybe a little harsher than he should’ve been, but it was eleven pm and he really just wanted to sleep, “We live on the fifth floor. How the fuck is a zombie gonna climb up the fire escape and root around your damn balcony?”
Yet somehow Jeonghan had still convinced him to come over and scope things out for him, just to make sure it was safe.
And the entire time he’d clung to Seungcheol’s arm, long, delicate fingers wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of his skin had burned through Cheol’s shirt, the same way it had when Jeonghan had snuggled up to him on the couch during the movie because he was, again, “scared”.
Honestly, that’s probably why he puts up with it all. Because he’s whipped for Yoon Jeonghan.
Unfortunately.
So now he sighs and traipses next door in boxers and a t-shirt, trying to recall the taekwondo he hasn’t touched since high school. And Jeonghan follows behind him rambling quietly about crime statistics in their neighborhood, muttering something about his balcony. So Seungcheol assumes he's headed there. But as soon as they actually enter his apartment, Jeonghan shuts up. Stays tense and near the door. Probably in case Seungcheol gets his ass kicked and he needs to run and get another, more capable neighbor because there’s a good chance he will.
“The things I do for you, Yoon Jeonghan,” he mutters under his breath, heading into his bedroom.
He keeps the lights off as he makes his way to the curtain-covered sliding glass door that leads to the balcony. Honestly he’s been in here so many times taking care of a “deathly” sick Jeonghan or waking him up for work (because apparently he’s become Jeonghan’s keeper in addition to defender, neighbor, and best friend) that he could probably walk through with his eyes closed. He fumbles for the sliding door lock in the darkness and then listens. There’s nothing, not a single sound, especially nothing that constitutes a break in, and he groans to himself.
Why couldn’t he have a crush on the other young single guy on their floor? Jihoon, is that his name? See, Jihoon’s a good neighbor. He keeps to himself and never bothers Seungcheol with his problems. Seungcheol’s not even really sure his name is actually Jihoon because he never sees him except some mornings on his way to work and then all they exchange is a perfunctory greeting nod and -
A sharp crash! outside steals his attention and he actually jumps a bit. Heart pounding faster, he leans in to peek between Jeonghan’s blackout curtains. From his decidedly crappy vantage point he can’t see much except the small table - now on its side - and two mismatched lawn chairs Jeonghan has out there but nothing that looks like a person. So he takes out his phone with shaky hands and flicks on the flashlight before venturing outside, to his certain death.
Maybe he also has a flair for the dramatic.
Maybe all the time he’s spending with Jeonghan is beginning to rub off on him.
The air is cold and goosebumps immediately break out across his skin the moment he steps outside. And he looks around with the flashlight even though Jeonghan’s balcony is, at best, a glorified storage unit without walls. There’s nothing. Except there has to be something because there’s no way, as small and cheap as it is, that Jeonghan’s little wire table would’ve toppled over on its own. Maybe -
There’s a frantic scratch scratch scratch of claws on the wood and Seungcheol catches a glimpse of two eyes appearing to glow before a cat - or raccoon - shaped outline jumps to the next balcony. Thankfully not Seungcheol’s.
Please don’t tell me that was it.
But another investigation turns up no results except for a few long scratches at the exterior wall next to Jeonghan’s door. So with a heavy sigh Seungcheol picks up the table and heads back inside. After relocking the door and fixing the curtains he returns to Jeonghan, who’s still standing by the door. Wide brown eyes, quivering in fear, meet Seungcheol’s and before he knows it he’s crossing the room to press Jeonghan against his chest.
Jeonghan wraps slender arms around him and breathes in deeply. “Did you see anyone?”
Like this, his face is nestled perfectly in the crook of Seungcheol’s neck and he reaches up a hand to card through Jeonghan’s tangled bed hair. “No. Just a raccoon or a cat or something. He’d been scratching at the door, or next to it, which is probably what you heard. But that was all, Hannie.”
Jeonghan sighs heavily and squeezes his arms around Cheol’s waist. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so stu - “
“Hey.”
For all his complaining, all his wishing Jeonghan wasn’t his neighbor - he doesn’t mean it. Could never mean it. So he pulls away and brushes Jeonghan’s hair from his eyes, off his forehead. Notes the way Jeonghan can’t meet his gaze, the pink flush creeping up his neck. “Come on, you’re not stupid, Jeonghan. You just got scared. It’s okay. And you did the right thing, coming to get me. I’d rather you be safe than sorry, okay?”
He nods quietly and only then does he meet Seungcheol’s gaze, with demure eyes that shouldn’t be so flirty.
But that’s also Yoon Jeonghan.
Seungcheol gives him a smile, unable to help the way his heart flutters.
“Well thank you for coming over anyway,” Jeonghan murmurs. “Even though you didn’t get to kick any ass.”
“I prefer it that way really,” Seungcheol says, curling some of Jeonghan’s hair around his finger. “But if you ever need me to beat someone up for you…”
“How about the next time I get wasted at a club and some asshole doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no - “
“I’ll definitely beat him up for you.”
Jeonghan smiles wide enough to show off all his teeth and Seungcheol melts at the sight. But now that he’s completed his task… with a slight sigh he tilts his head up to give Jeonghan a kiss on his forehead. And then he turns to the door, a never uttered “good night” on his lips.
Jeonghan interrupts him. Hurriedly bites out, “Do you mind staying?” before he can even get his hand on the doorknob. Tacks on a quiet “I-I’m still a bit shaken up and…”
And Seungcheol looks at him. Flustered and biting his lip and so goddamn beautiful of course he can’t say no. He’s never been able to, that’s his fucking problem (but it’s really the furthest thing from a problem). So he nods.
He ends up with Yoon Jeonghan curled in his arms that night, sleeping as soundly as he could. And when they both wake up (to Seungcheol’s alarm) there’s a moment where they just look at each other. The room is still dark from the blackout curtains but soft rivulets of light slip through and land on Jeonghan’s face and with his hair spread out on his pillow, he looks like an angel.
Seungcheol’s chest tightens and he kisses Jeonghan’s cheek before climbing out of bed. It takes every fiber of his being to do so, honestly.
“I gotta go,” he says. “Work and shit.”
Jeonghan sighs heavily and sits up in bed, dragging a hand through his tangled mop of hair. “Oh. Well thank you for - for last night, Cheollie. I really appreciate you.”
Seungcheol nods. “Sure. What are neighbors for?”
The fact that he spent half his night with Yoon Jeonghan doesn’t occur to him until he’s halfway to his office; and he spends the rest of the day grinning like an idiot.
It’s a grin that only widens when he comes home to Jeonghan waiting outside his door with apology takeout, his heart fluttering when he catches sight of bleached blonde hair from the elevator.
Neighbors. Sure.