Work Text:
“Jaehyun, can I ask you something?”
It starts like this: Jaehyun is 15, Kevin is 14, and every day, they wait for their mothers to pick them up from school. Today, they get to stay in school for an extra hour; something about a meeting with parents and teachers. For Jaehyun, it’s an unwelcome change of plans. For Kevin, it’s an opportunity.
“Sure.”
“How do you know if you like someone?”
Jaehyun bristles. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he’s hardly the person to ask if it’s about—this. Kevin continues, “How can you be sure? Especially, when it’s like–” he pauses, snagging his lip between his teeth, then freeing it. “It’s not possible. Or at least it shouldn’t be. You know?”
He doesn’t. He asks, what do you mean, instead of the more pressing matter, which is who is it?
“It’s just—weird. You’re gonna think it’s weird.”
“Try me.”
“It’s Chanhee.”
That makes Jaehyun pause. “Chanhee?”
Chanhee doesn’t even attend their school, but he sings with Kevin in the church choir. Jaehyun knows this because his mother still drags him to church every Sunday, even though he doesn’t really understand why they do it.
And Chanhee is a boy. Jaehyun thinks that has to be what Kevin means.
“See, I knew you’d make fun of me.”
“I’m not making fun of you! It’s just–” He searches for the right word. “New?”
It’s not entirely wrong. Kevin doesn’t really talk about liking people period, much less other boys. Still, Jaehyun doesn’t know of any boys who like other boys, and it’s not something his mother has talked to him about. She always asked about that girl he had a snack with one time after school, even though he hangs out with Kevin much more frequently.
“It’s new for me, too,” Kevin says, bringing him back to attention.
Jaehyun considers that for a moment, then says, “Okay, so you’ve never liked someone in the past?”
Kevin looks at him, holds his tongue for a long moment. “Not really.”
“But how does Chanhee make you feel?”
“He’s just so pretty, have you seen him?” He gestures wildly for emphasis. “I like looking at him.”
He tries to put himself in Kevin’s shoes, like his mom said he should do to better understand other people. He can’t think of anyone he particularly likes looking at, except maybe IU. Maybe there’s an answer? “Okay, but don’t you like looking at, say, Ariana?” Kevin narrows his eyes and nods, and Jaehyun says, “Do you like her, too?”
“Uh, no.”
“So what makes Chanhee special?”
Kevin appears to really give it some thought. “I like hearing him sing, too.”
The admission makes Jaehyun’s throat dry, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Chanhee really does have a nice singing voice. Jaehyun doesn’t envy it one bit.
“I think you should just trust your gut, Kev. If hearing him sing makes you feel some type of way, then you just do.”
“Jaehyun, help me out.”
“What’s up?”
They’re in their favorite diner in town, and Jaehyun’s visiting during his holiday break. Somehow, it doesn’t feel all that different; Kevin used to sit next to him at the high school cafeteria, even when they were mostly in different social circles. Truth be told, Jaehyun hadn’t really cared even back then, even when one of his ex-girlfriends gave him gripe for it. Why don’t you sit with the rest of the team like a normal person, she had said. They had broken up a week later.
He invited Kevin the day after he came home, to catch up. Jaehyun knows he’s been taken with someone in the high school dance troupe, which occupies the practice room after the school band. Their choreographer tapped Kevin to be their accompanist, and he obliged.
Changmin. Kevin mentioned the name exactly once, and Jaehyun kept it filed away.
Changmin, he had said, is a fantastic dancer. That isn’t the half of it — I can’t stop watching him, Jaehyun.
All he said in response was, Aren’t you supposed to be reading your sheet music during that time? And Kevin replied with a string of rude emojis.
Now, Kevin is telling him he still hasn't made his move. “I can’t believe we’re graduating, and I never even had the guts to talk to him after practice. He stays longer than the others almost every time, too!”
“So why haven’t you?”
“I don’t know how! What do I even say? I don’t even know if he swings that way. What if I just freak him out?”
Jaehyun wouldn’t know, either. He had never really interacted with Changmin that much—he participated in one club activity with him, and he seemed as determined and hardworking as Kevin described him to be. Not that he was paying attention.
Plus, there aren’t a lot of people in the school who are out. It’s not a particularly conservative school—Kevin never even bothered to stay in the closet—but any queer relationships that may be going on have mostly been kept out of the high school gossip mill for reasons that continue to elude Jaehyun. Maybe he hasn’t been paying enough attention.
He changes tack. “Have you thought about what might happen, if you do confess?”
He knows the answer. He knows Kevin, who surely enough, says, “Of course I have.”
“And? What conclusion did your overworked brain reach?”
“That it’s never gonna work.”
Jaehyun rolls his eyes, and Kevin hastens to explain. “It’s true! Hear me out, okay, first of all, we’re literally a month away from graduating. And we’re going to different colleges! You know long-distance relationships never work.”
“Do you know?”
“Please. How many high school sweethearts do you know personally who are still together?”
Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, and Kevin raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “Exactly!”
“But you’re different.” Jaehyun says, instantly realizing how that sounds. Kevin’s eyebrows go even higher, and Jaehyun fights an oncoming blush. He clears his throat. “I mean, granted, you haven’t even confessed–”
“That’s why I came to you!”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem to have no problem telling people how you feel.”
That’s not true. Jaehyun gets very apprehensive about telling people how he feels. That’s why he chose to invite Kevin out for dinner tonight, after so long, instead of just texting him while they were apart that he misses him. There had been many times when he itched to do so. Jaehyun’s university isn’t that far from his hometown—they could certainly meet halfway if they wanted to.
But Jaehyun thinks back to the topic at hand. “Can you live without knowing if he reciprocates? Are you content to let it stay a high school crush that never led anywhere?”
“I–,” Kevin starts, and Jaehyun waits, but he doesn’t continue.
“There’s no right answer. It’s all up to you. Just try to make sure you don’t regret anything.”
“Jaehyun, I need your input on something.”
The distance didn’t have to bother Jaehyun for long. In the end, Kevin decided to attend the same university as Jaehyun. Whether Jaehyun had a hand in convincing him is another story.
Now, they live in the same dormitory, and it’s like they were never even apart. Jaehyun is graduating in two months; Kevin has a year left.
They’re in the lobby, waiting for the wifi on their floor to get fixed. It happens every couple of months. Jaehyun nods and motions for him to continue.
“So you know Juyeon, right?”
“Of course, dummy.”
“How should I know! You play for different teams.” Haha, Jaehyun thinks, right before Kevin also realizes the double entendre. He rolls his eyes. “Pun unintended, I swear.”
“What about him?”
“You know how we’ve gotten closer because of our thesis project, right?”
Jaehyun nods.
Kevin inhales. “I kinda accidentally developed a major crush on him,” he says, with his eyes screwed shut, as if it pains him to say it.
Jaehyun tries not to laugh. Poor Kevin, he thinks. Anyone who hangs out with Juyeon often enough would know that it’s extremely easy to fall for him. He’s insanely pretty, he’s athletic, and to top it all off, he has a big heart. It’s really kind of miraculous for someone like him to exist in their small university.
Jaehyun only knows this because, well, he makes a lot of observations. Which is to say Kevin’s admission doesn’t really surprise him. Juyeon was his friend before Kevin met him, and when they decided to do their thesis together, Jaehyun was pleased that they got along well. As the three of them had study sessions together, Jaehyun had witnessed Kevin steal one too many glances. Juyeon had been none the wiser.
“Why are you smirking? God, please don’t tell me it was obvious,” Kevin says, covering his face in his hands.
“It was very obvious.” Kevin smacks him. “It’s true! To me, at least. But you know Juyeon’s not gonna pick up on anything.”
His shoulders sag, whether in relief or something else, Jaehyun isn’t sure. “You said you needed my input?”
Kevin lowers his voice as more students file in the dorm. “You’ve known him for longer. Do I risk ruining our mostly new friendship, not to mention our thesis partnership, by shooting my shot and asking him out?”
Jaehyun takes a moment to consider it. It’d definitely be a bold move, especially coming from Kevin, but ultimately, there would be no real risk. He trusts Juyeon.
“I don’t think it would ruin anything. I think Juyeon would find it sweet. The worst that could happen is he doesn’t reciprocate, but I don’t think that would change how he acts around you.”
It’s an honest assessment, and Kevin’s face clears, as if he believes every word Jaehyun’s saying. As if he trusts him. And Jaehyun won’t lie—he enjoys having his trust.
“If you’re sure.”
He nods. “Good luck, Kevin.”
“Jaehyun, are you free tonight?”
Jaehyun stills as he holds the phone to his ear. The tone of Kevin’s voice sounds urgent with a hint of frustration, and Jaehyun would think he’s done something wrong, but he wouldn’t be asking this way if his frustration was directed at him.
“I made too much pasta,” Kevin continues, and Jaehyun can tell it’s not the whole story. “Tell me you haven’t eaten yet. Our fridge is packed enough as it is.”
“Are you asking me to come over?”
He hears Kevin huff across the line. “Yes, Jaehyun, I’m asking you to come over. Hurry before it gets cold, I’m too lazy to reheat it.”
When the call clicks off, Jaehyun packs his stuff and leaves the building, driving straight to Kevin’s new apartment. He hasn’t seen Kevin in—a while, actually, not after his housewarming party, which was several months ago.
He remembers the unit, though. Not high enough to be too bothersome for taking the stairs, so he does just that. He rings the doorbell once when he gets there, and Kevin swings the door open with an annoyed look on his face. “Took you long enough.”
Jaehyun rolls his eyes playfully. “I got here as fast as I could.”
“Well, thank you. Wish everyone had your promptness.” He walks away and turns the corner to the pantry, and Jaehyun follows.
“You just implied I was late.”
“Yeah, well. Thanks for coming over. You know. To eat,” he says, sitting down on the dinner table.
Jaehyun eyes him. He put a nice linen over the table, and there’s plenty of food. Two glasses of red wine. Kevin looks absolutely miserable. And yet, he still stupidly asks—“Is everything okay?”
He can tell Kevin is taking great care not to explode, and Jaehyun doesn’t know why he does it. “Fine. Work is fine. I’m fine. Younghoon’s acting gig definitely seems fine, he must be working so hard and earning so much if he can’t even come home on our half-year anniversary.”
Well. That explains everything.
“Oh, Kevin.” Jaehyun can’t seem to stop saying stupid things.
As if he’s read his mind, Kevin says, “Don’t oh Kevin me.” Jaehyun flinches and holds his hands up, and Kevin gives him a half-smile.
“I know–” Kevin sighs, and when he speaks again, his voice goes softer. “I know this is important to him. But he didn’t–”
His eyes start to well up, and on the table, Jaehyun places his hand on top of Kevin’s. He looks up and a lone tear starts falling.
“He didn’t even remember, Jaehyun,” he says, and Jaehyun clutches his hand a little tighter. “I had to call him and ask if he’ll be late for dinner, and he apparently forgot it was tonight.”
Jaehyun wishes there was more to say. He always tries to be polite and understanding about people he doesn’t know that well, but sometimes he’s just incapable of it.
“That’s terrible, Kev.”
Kevin doesn’t even seem to hear him. “Am I being selfish, Jaehyun? Be honest,” he’s gazing at him intently, no trace of spite nor sarcasm left, just pure vulnerability. He’s always been kinder than Jaehyun ever was. It’s only natural for him. “Am I asking too much? Where is the line between being a supportive boyfriend and being a doormat?”
At that, something inside Jaehyun snaps. “No one should ever treat you like that.” He resists the urge, just barely, to say you deserve better. He knows from pieces of advice that he himself has gotten that it’s mostly useless. Of course Kevin deserves better; he shouldn’t be running around like a dog after some microcelebrity who can’t even have dinner with him on important occasions. But it isn’t Kevin’s fault for landing in this situation in the first place.
“I’d never think of you as selfish. Even if I haven’t known you for like a decade,” God, Jaehyun thinks absently, we’re getting old. “You’re the one who took care of all this tonight, even when he apparently couldn’t be bothered, and it’s just one indication of selflessness among many, I’m sure.”
Kevin wipes his tears with the back of his hand, and sits up straighter, but he breaks eye contact with Hyunjae as he says, “Thank you.”
Jaehyun realizes he still has his hand on top of Kevin’s, and withdraws it. “Nothing to thank me for.”
Kevin scoffs. “Dummy. Go on and eat already.”
“I’m kind of preoccupied at the moment, Kevin.”
Silence. “Okay,” Kevin’s voice sounds so small. Jaehyun’s ears prick at the sound of a sniffle. “Sorry, forget I called–”
“No, wait,” Jaehyun backtracks. “Are you alright?”
It’s three years later and he’s an account manager now, with a monthly report due the next day. Kevin is a music producer in the same city. They still talk, but not nearly as much. Jaehyun spoke without thinking.
Silence, again. Jaehyun has to listen harder to hear his breathing. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll leave you to it–”
“Kevin, where are you?” he presses.
“Jaehyun, I said it’s fine–”
“Why did you call, then?”
Kevin doesn’t respond. “Are you home?” Jaehyun asks, and it takes a moment for Kevin to confirm, but he’s glad he does. “Can I come over?”
“You really don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“But your work.” He says this even softer.
Jaehyun knows him; he knows he’d feel better about a compromise. “Could I bring it over?”
Another sniffle, then, “Okay. Thank you.”
It takes Jaehyun 20 minutes to drive to Kevin’s apartment, which he has now been sharing with his boyfriend Jacob for the better part of a year, if he remembers correctly. But when he lets Jaehyun in, Jacob is nowhere to be seen.
As Kevin turns the living room light on, Jaehyun sees his red-rimmed eyes, and all other thoughts in his head dissipate.
“What happened?”
Kevin takes a deep breath. “Tea? Coffee?”
“Kevin, just tell me–”
“I will. Just–” he swipes a hand across his face, and Jaehyun quiets. “I just need a moment.”
“Coffee, then.”
Jaehyun sits on the couch, and he takes stock of Kevin’s apartment, for as far as he can see. He doesn’t come over often, not since Jacob moved in, but there’s something different about it. It’s considerably more bare. There are fewer shoes on the rack, and there are definitely less photos than Jaehyun remembers.
Kevin comes back with one mug of coffee and one of tea. He sits next to Jaehyun on the couch and hands him his mug, before taking a sip from his.
Jaehyun waits for him to speak.
“Jacob left earlier today.”
He must see Jaehyun’s expression harden, because he adds, “I kicked him out.”
“What the hell did he do?”
Kevin winces, and he looks away from Jaehyun. “He–” Kevin gulps and tilts his head up, and Jaehyun wants to tell him he doesn’t have to do that, he can cry as much as he wants to. But at the moment, he’ll let Kevin say what he needs to say.
“He fell for someone else. Which, fuck, I never even saw coming,” Kevin lets out a short laugh, and Jaehyun’s heart breaks a little. “You know Jacob.”
He does know Jacob. He knows Kevin has been close with him since university, that he was one of the people in his department that he spent a lot of time with. It’s only this year that they developed feelings and tried a relationship, and now—
Now, Kevin’s heartbroken, and Jaehyun really can’t bear to see him like this anymore, thinks no one should even look at him if they’re only going to hurt someone as special as Kevin in the long run.
“I really thought he was better than that.”
“I don’t blame him,” Kevin says, and Jaehyun can’t stand to hear that, either, but Kevin keeps talking before he could say anything. “I just—It’s so painful, you know? You think you’re building a life together, only for it to be ripped away from you, from seemingly out of nowhere. Although I might have just missed it.”
Jaehyun is lost for words. All this time, and he still doesn’t know why Kevin comes to him, when all he does is just tell him what he really thinks or feels, immaturity and inexperience and hell, even hypocrisy notwithstanding.
But he always tries to do right by him. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?
“This is not your fault.”
“No,” Kevin acquiesces. “But it’s my burden to carry.”
They’re silent for a minute, and Jaehyun can feel Kevin’s exhaustion radiating off of him in waves, wishing that he could hug him, maybe, anything to take that heaviness away from him.
“Fuck, I need a smoke,” Kevin says after a while. “I know you hate it, so. Just stay put and do your work, if you want. I just need to step out for a bit.”
“I’ll come with you.”
He can’t help it, he has always found it easier to stay close to him. Kevin gives him a look, but doesn’t argue. Maybe he’s too tired to do so. He goes over and slides open the door that leads to the balcony, stepping out first and letting Jaehyun follow.
He wastes no time in lighting a cigarette, taking a drag, and blowing out a long stream of smoke. Jaehyun watches, waits for him to say something else. He probably has so much left to say, and Jaehyun doesn’t want to preempt or provoke any of it. He just wants to be there for him, to let him open up in his own way.
Though when Kevin does speak, it takes him by surprise.
“How do I move on, Jaehyun?”
Fuck, if he only knew. Jaehyun doesn’t know anything. Kevin continues to stump him, years and years down the line, but he’s afraid of letting it show. He wants to have all the answers for him, so he wouldn’t have to worry about anything at all.
“There’s no linear way to do it, Kev,” he says honestly. “If you want something concrete, I always just go with ‘out of sight, out of mind.’”
Kevin hums, but doesn’t say anything further. They’re standing side-by-side against the railing, their arms and elbows touching. Kevin takes one drag after another, blowing the smoke away from Jaehyun, until he reaches the butt of his cigarette. He puts it out on the ashtray and moves even closer to Jaehyun, leaning his head on his shoulder.
“You’ve always been there for me, and I don’t think you know how grateful I am for you,” he says, and Jaehyun’s heart stutters in his chest.
Fuck, it’s been a long time since he felt like this. He’s buried it deep inside him, in the same crevices where he keeps memories of every time Kevin’s ever asked for his help.
He hopes Kevin doesn’t notice the way he swallows. “Well, you know I care about you.”
Kevin lifts his head to look at him, and Jaehyun looks back at his searching gaze, wondering what he’s looking for. Kevin seems to find it, because he’s leaning even closer, so close that Jaehyun doesn’t think this moment is really happening.
But it is, and it takes all of his willpower not to close the distance, to do what he has been constantly wondering about for years, before he resolved to stash it all away in the back of his mind, locked up and harmless to the friendship he’s worked so hard to keep.
Now, as he leans farther back and puts space between them, he feels like he’s ruined it anyway. He sees Kevin’s eyes harden, but it’s gone almost instantly. “Okay,” he says, emotionless and empty.
Jaehyun has never wanted anything but to do right by him. “Kevin, it’s not–”
“I think you should go.”
“Kevin, please pick up.”
It’s been a week, and Kevin still isn’t answering his calls. He doesn’t usually leave voicemails—in principle, he doesn’t like to grovel—but if Jaehyun’s ever been desperate for anything, it’s to keep Kevin in his life, in any capacity he would allow.
He just wants to be there for him again.
“Please let me talk to you. I can come over and explain and answer any of your questions. I just— please just talk to me again.”
He still has a few hours at work left to go before he can go anywhere, so he begrudgingly puts his phone on mute again after lunch hour and settles down to finish his tasks.
By the time the sun has set, the office has mostly cleared out. He pulls his phone out from inside his drawer and unlocks it to see a message from Kevin.
Free tonight. Care for leftovers?
Jaehyun had been so anxious about seeing him again, he had half-expected it to go up in flames, or some other dramatic scene. In reality, it’s an understated affair. Kevin is wearing a plain shirt, sweatpants, and house slippers, while Jaehyun feels like an idiot, still in his office suit. He’d feel like an idiot regardless.
They’ve known each other for over a decade, after all. Surely it must count for something. He relies on Kevin, has always searched for his one-of-a-kind personality and unconditional kindness in moments of despair, and all he’s ever wanted to do was to return the favor.
He turns over a few practiced words in his head, but he doesn’t know which of them to say first, settles for a question that’s less heavier than the others in his mind, but important nonetheless. “How are you?”
Kevin shrugs. “Been coping. Revamping the place and all.” Jaehyun appreciates the few distinctions he can see right away—more art, more photos, more Kevin. “How about you?”
“I just have a question,” he says, because he can’t keep it in for any longer. “Just answer this and I’ll let it go forever. We’ve known each other for so long—why did we never get together?”
Kevin stares at him, open-mouthed, and Jaehyun doesn’t look away. He has to know if Kevin ever felt anything, or if he should keep his word and just let it go.
After ages, and with not another word from Jaehyun, Kevin says, “Fuck, Jaehyun, are you being serious right now?”
“I am serious. You come to me for advice about men, so I thought, you’re comfortable sharing your troubles with me because you see me as a friend you can trust.” He sees Kevin open his mouth but he hastens to add, “And I really, really want to be that for you, still. But you should know I don’t see you as just a friend.”
Jaehyun feels warmth creep up his neck after that confession, and Kevin starts laughing, but there’s no mirth in it. It sounds like pure disbelief. “Fuck, Jaehyun,” he repeats. Then he lowers his voice, saying, “We never got together because I thought I wouldn’t ever have a chance with you.”
It’s Jaehyun’s turn to stare at him, shock gripping his chest. Kevin doesn’t even let him soak in that response, but instead keeps talking: “Remember when I asked about Chanhee, like ages ago? I was only starting to figure myself out back then. But it wasn’t just him I found attractive. I wanted to see how you felt about it, about me.”
“Well, did I pass?”
“I don’t know if it was a pass or fail system,” Kevin rolls his eyes, smiling at him. “But it definitely made me start trusting you.”
Jaehyun can’t help but feel happy about that. “I’m glad.”
“Still!” Kevin counters, “I barely got anything out of you. Always so honest. Always so objective. And then the girlfriends and all.” Jaehyun tries not to wince. “When I heard you went out with Sangyeon I nearly passed out. Remember that phone call? The one where I yelled at you for not telling me you weren’t straight?”
Jaehyun laughs. How could he forget? He had been certain even his neighbors could hear Kevin’s voice on the phone.
“And the worst—and fine, also the best—thing about confiding in you, was that you were almost always right.”
There’s a lot to unpack in that statement, but Jaehyun can’t help but latch onto one thing: “When was I wrong?”
“A week ago,” Kevin says, softer. Jaehyun’s heart is thumping so hard in his chest. “When you said, ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ I’ve tried that, Jaehyun. I’ve gone weeks, even months, without seeing you or talking to you, on purpose, even if I so badly wanted to see your face and ask how you’re doing. Even if a few hours of your time is all you can give me. It never used to work. And now you’re telling me, what, you also had feelings for me at some point in time? Jesus. It’s a lot to process.”
Jaehyun doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know how to calm his terrified heart. But he needs to be brave; he has come this far.
“Still do.”
Kevin starts to smile. “Yeah?”
He smiles back. “Yeah.”
But Kevin sobers, saying, “I’m not quite over Jacob, you know. I really did love him. Those other men, I really thought it could work out with them too. But God, Jaehyun,” he says, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, “I still trust you the most, out of anyone.”
“That’s more than enough for me.” Jaehyun means it. Even if they don’t end up together, he’ll always strive to be someone Kevin can rely on. He’ll always be wishing for his happiness.
He can’t tamp down the hope, though, and he thinks Kevin might be thinking the same. Before he could file that thought away again, Kevin confirms it.
“But could we try the other thing, too?”
Jaehyun bursts out laughing, and Kevin joins him.
Even after all this time, he still knows virtually nothing about true love. It’ll be alright, he thinks.
This time, they’ll learn together.