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In an alternate universe, Seungmin would wake up in the morning, throw his hair in a messy bun, and walk downstairs to find out his parents sold him to One Direction. So would commence his whirlwind romance with Zayn Malik, and against all odds, their love would survive the wrath of jealous fans/Perrie Edwards/a gang leader with a vendetta from Zayn’s Bradford Bad Boi™ past who kidnaps Seungmin, until Zayn and the rest of the One Direction boys (and mafia leader Don Cowell, of course) swoop in at the nick of time to rescue him.
In this universe, Seungmin wakes up at midday, fumbles around for his glasses, and walks out of his bedroom that’s not in his parents’ house. Because he got kicked out of that place six years ago, and not into the tattooed arms of a roguishly handsome boyband member.
(There was, in the beginning, another pair of roguishly handsome tattooed arms to hold him, but six years is a long time.)
In this universe, Seungmin inspects his face on the handle of his refrigerator, deems he does not look like complete shit, and walks out of his apartment the same time his ex walks out of his.
“Oh,” he says, like this is just happenstance. They’re neighbors, it’s bound to happen sometimes. Often. Most of the time. “Hi.”
Hyunjin raises a (roguishly handsome) (tattooed) arm in greeting. “Hey.” The other (roguishly handsome) (tattooed) arm is attached to a hand that’s holding a leash attached to-
“Hi, Kkami,” Seungmin coos. “Going out for a walk?” Like he doesn’t know.
“Coming back in, actually.” Hyunjin rubs the back of his (also roguishly handsome and tattooed) neck. “You’re headed out?”
“The grind never stops. Yay, capitalism!” Seungmin swings his arm in mock-joy, and Hyunjin laughs, a real laugh; the sort Seungmin used to hear all the time. It gets to his head.
Kkami’s a boy dog, but that doesn’t stop him from being a little bitch, because he chooses to shatter the moment by yapping. Hyunjin throws Seungmin a (roguishly handsome) (pierced) smile. “Someone’s hungry. I’d better feed him. I’ll see you around?”
If Seungmin’s got any say in it- “Yeah.”
. . .
Seungmin is sixteen and sad when he meets Hwang Hyunjin for the first time, and Hyunjin is all that and a little mad, too. He’s spray-painting the side of a wall when Seungmin and his dog (RIP Lassie, the only living thing in that house who was sad to see Seungmin go) walk in on him.
Hyunjin (but of course sixteen-year-old Seungmin doesn’t know that yet. At that point in time, Hyunjin is just a lanky guy in a black mask and hoodie) tries to run, but Seungmin calls out, “You missed an ‘A’.”
Slowly, the guy turns around. “What?”
“Right here.” He points it out. “It’s spelled D-E-M-E-A-N-I-N-G. There’s an ‘A’ there.”
“Oh.” The guy walks over, unhurried now that he’s decided Seungmin means no harm. Lassie wags her tail, because the guard dog gene died out in her family about sixty generations back. “Missed the ‘G’, too.”
“I thought that was just to look cool.”
“Well, now it is.” Seungmin can’t help the giggle that bubbles up out of him, and he’s not too sure with the mask, but the guy seems to be smiling, too. “Could you pretend that it looks even more cool without the ‘A’, too?”
And, you know, Seungmin shouldn’t be ignoring the rules of the English language for a guy he’s just met, but then he’s crouching down to pet Lassie’s head, and her tail’s wagging a mile a minute, and Seungmin reckons if he had a tail, he’d be wagging it too. “Sure.”
The guy looks up, and this time, Seungmin can tell he’s smiling for sure- his cheeks bunch up, like balls of dough, and his eyes turn into crescents. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way. Without a ‘G’.”
“Seungmin. With a ‘G’.”
“Seungmin,” the guy- Hyunjin- tests. “Maybe it is cooler with a ‘G’, after all.”
He adds the ‘G’, then thinks better of it, and squeezes in an ‘A’ for good measure. Seungmin watches him skillfully add the letters, the process a work of art itself.
“‘Just the man in the back, demeaning the pack’,” he reads when Hyunjin is finished. “Deep.”
“Down.” At Seungmin’s confused face scrunch, he adds, “System of a Down. It’s from one of their songs, Fuck the System. Wait- don’t tell me you’ve never listened to them.”
Seungmin gestures to himself. “Do I look like someone who would listen to a song called Fuck the System?”
“I mean, I don’t judge-”
“My favorite band is One Direction.”
“- Okay, maybe I do judge.” He laughs at Seungmin’s affronted scowl. “No offense, but One Direction is a boyband. I don’t do boybands.”
“Clearly, you’ve never listened to the Take Me Home album,” Seungmin sniffs. “It fundamentally changed me as a person.”
“It did, did it?” Hyunjin hums, and Seungmin expects him to come up with another barb (“Take Me Home to what? Bible study?”), but to his surprise, Hyunjin says, “In that case, maybe I should. There’s just one problem.”
Here comes the barb.
“How will I let you know what I think of it?”
A couple days later, when Seungmin’s dad is driving him home from band practice, he sees the graffiti and scoffs. “These punks are going to be the death of civilized society,” he says angrily.
Seungmin looks at his phone to hide his smile. Hyunjin’s most recent text seems to smile with him.
You know what, I’ll admit it, he’s typed, surprisingly sans any typos. Rock Me is a banger.
. . .
“Min, you know it’s just not healthy.”
Seungmin’s biological father kicked him out the door the minute he turned eighteen because he loved a boy and because he didn’t apply for any colleges because he loved said boy. Chan’s taken it upon himself to fill the void. Sometimes, Seungmin lets him cluck over him. Sometimes, he just wants to be delusional in peace.
“I know, Hyung,” Seungmin sighs, not for the first time. “It’s just because we live next door to each other. Seeing him every day just messes with my head.”
“Which is why I keep telling you to move in with us,” Chan says patiently, also not for the first time. “There’s plenty of room. We can blow up a mattress, clear out some space for you- it’ll be like an extended sleepover.”
“That’s what you told Innie, and look how that turned out.” Seungmin raises his eyebrows at Jeongin, who flips him off from his seat on Chan’s lap. “I know you just want to take advantage of stray kids.”
“Um, excuse me, I let him take advantage of me,” Jeongin drawls. “There’s a difference.”
“Just think about it, okay?” Chan gently tries to maneuver Jeongin off his lap, who only settles his weight more firmly. Maybe Chan is the one getting taken advantage of. “We just want you to be happy-”
“I am happy,” Seungmin says, a little too forcefully.
“- and even if it’s with Hyunjin, we don’t mind,” Chan continues in the same tone of voice. Seungmin realizes it’s the same one he uses when he’s talking to his skittish patients, and he’s promptly offended, because Chan is a vet. “But I think it would be good for you to maybe… meet someone new.”
“He’s encouraging you to enter your slut era, Hyung,” Jeongin adds, ever the teacher’s pet.
Chan shrugs. “Nothing wrong with that, if that’s what you want to do. Or if you’re looking for something long-term, there’s actually someone I know who I think you’d like.”
Oh. Oh, no. “Hyung, thanks, really, but I really don’t think-”
“He’s your type, trust me,” Jeongin pipes up.
“I don’t have a type-”
“Tall, tattooed, long hair.” Jeongin holds up fingers for each attribute. “And I think he draws- he’s a tattoo artist, anyway.” He wiggles his stupid little brows. “He’ll fulfill all your Wattpad bad boy desires.”
Seungmin splutters.
“What Jeongin means to say is,” Chan sighs, and clamps a hand over Jeongin’s mouth when he tries to protest (the little rat probably gets turned on by it), “Jeongguk’s a good friend of mine, so I can attest to the guy’s character. We go to the same gym- he’s the same age I am. He likes dogs, and dancing, and he said he’d like to meet you. Give him a chance, Seungmin. I really think you’ll like him.”
Jeongin manages to get Chan’s hand off his mouth. “And if you don’t, you can go back to stalking your ex.” Chan pinches his thigh, and yep, Jeongin’s dick definitely jumps in his sweatpants. Seungmin takes it as his cue to leave.
Not before he tells a (deeply offended) Chan, “I’m not Jeongin, Hyung; I’m not into grandpas.”
Seungmin doesn’t have a type, no matter what Jeongin says. But if this Jeongguk guy’s willing to cough up for a dinner, well, Seungmin would be hard-pressed to say no.
. . .
The first time they kiss is Seungmin’s first. He doesn’t know which one it is for Hyunjin. He doesn’t want to ask.
They’re on top of an old abandoned building, not too far from the one where they’d first met. Seungmin is seventeen and still a little sad, and Hyunjin is seventeen and all that and a little mad, too, but they’re both better off than they were at sixteen. At seventeen, they’ve got each other.
They’re on top of an old abandoned building, because Hyunjin can pick locks, apparently, and Seungmin doesn’t want to ask about that, either. “What?” Hyunjin asks, a little defensively, when he catches Seungmin staring nonetheless. “It comes in handy. I always forget my locker combination.”
“Make it something you’ll remember, then,” Seungmin suggests. “Like your birthday. My birthday.”
“When’s that, the nineteenth century?”
“Excuse me, I am six months and two days younger than you are. You even wished me a happy birthday. That was last week.”
“In that case, you ought to call me ‘hyung’.”
“Ha, sure.”
“Sure, hyung.”
“There’s no need to give me honorifics, Hyunjin.”
When Hyunjin takes him to the rooftop (some fifty hundred staircases later), Seungmin is speechless. Partly because he’s winded from the aforementioned fifty hundred staircases, but mostly because-
“Great view, isn’t it?” Hyunjin grins at Seungmin’s open-mouthed awe. “It’s more impressive. From a distance, I mean. You can’t see the wear on things. You can’t see the weeds or the rust or the paint cracking- or the graffiti some punk drew on the walls.”
Seungmin looks at Hyunjin, really properly looks at him. It’s not very difficult; he’s been doing a lot of that as of late. Hyunjin is awfully, terribly, egregiously good-looking. “Everything’s uglier close-up,” he says, even if he doesn’t believe it. Hyunjin isn’t.
Hyunjin, like clockwork, says, “Not you.”
Seungmin doesn’t have to ask if Hyunjin read Paper Towns, because of course he did. He’d listened to Seungmin’s favorite album by his favorite (boy)band. He’d dragged Seungmin across town, all this way for a view. Of course he’d read and memorized his favorite book.
He doesn’t have to ask if he means it.
Their first kiss is a little dry, and there’s a bit of fumbling as they try to figure out whose hands go where, but even as Hyunjin accidentally bites Seungmin’s lip too hard and Seungmin mushes his braces against Hyunjin’s mouth, Seungmin knows they’ll get plenty of time to figure it out.
. . .
Much to Seungmin’s horror, Jeongguk is the sort of ’97 liner that’s more in touch with the millennial way of life. Jeongin’s managed to whip Chan into a vaguely gen-Z-ian shape, but Seungmin is afraid Jeongguk’s too far gone.
LOL, he says, to a meme Seungmin texts him. And then he makes it worse by adding a laugh-crying emoji, of all things.
Hyunjin would’ve known to respond with a respectable skull emoji.
But Hyunjin’s not here (well, he lives next door, but that’s not the point), and Jeongguk is, and once Seungmin manages to get over the millennial ick, he finds out Jeongguk is actually kind of nice. Sweet and even a little geeky, in a way Hyunjin never was. Is. Back when Seungmin knew him, anyway.
Jeongguk’s a bit shy, but once Seungmin gets him talking, he’s even got a goofy side to him that’s quite refreshing. He’s the maknae of a friend group consisting of a bunch of guys just about as weird as Seungmin’s friends are, if Jeongguk is to be believed.
“Namjoon Hyung lets me break into his studio whenever I want to,” Jeongguk boasts over the phone, like the spoiled little maknae he is (he reminds Seungmin eerily of an emo Jeongin. No wonder Chan gets along with Jeongguk so well). “I’ve recorded some songs in there, too. You should come with me sometime- I bet you can sing really well,” he adds earnestly. “I can hear it in your voice; it’s really melodic, even when you’re just speaking.”
Seungmin freezes. He’s dragged back to six years ago, Hyunjin down with the worst cold of his life, a week after Seungmin had caught it. His head in Seungmin’s lap, long hair matted to his forehead with sweat. “Keep talking,” he’d pleaded, when Seungmin had fallen quiet after he’d thought Hyunjin asleep. “Your voice- it’s like you’re singing, even when you’re just speaking.”
“Maybe,” the Seungmin of today says.
“I’ll hold you to it,” Jeongguk vows.
. . .
Seungmin comes out to his parents on his eighteenth birthday, which is non-coincidentally the same day they kick him out. Out of the closet and out of the door, he thinks bitterly. He says as much to Hyunjin, except Hyunjin gives him one of those long, sad looks, and Seungmin falls weeping into his arms.
He rots away on Hyunjin’s couch- because Hyunjin’s been living alone for quite a while now- and lets himself be taken care of. When he gets over enough of it to get off the couch, Hyunjin is still there to help him the rest of the way.
Bit by bit, they piece Seungmin back together. Kintsugi, he thinks.
On Hyunjin’s nineteenth, he gets Seungmin’s name tattooed above his heart. In English. “With a ‘G’,” he announces proudly.
It’s not his first tattoo- that honor goes to the chainsmoking Winnie-the-Pooh on his left thigh. Getting drunk with your boyfriend when he’s in a silly-goofy mood isn’t the wisest decision, as Hyunjin finds out the hard way. Seungmin to this day can’t get Hyunjin’s pants off without bursting into giggles.
It’s not his first tattoo, no, but it’s the one that means the most.
. . .
“Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Seungmin damn near jumps out of his skin at the sound of the voice. He spins around and plasters himself to his door. “God, Hyunjin, you scared me.”
Hyunjin grins. “There’s no need to give me honorifics, Seungmin.”
Seungmin glares back. “Very funny. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“I strongly doubt it. You look the picture of health.”
Seungmin blinks. Despite Chan’s insistence, he hasn’t taken him up on his invitation to go to the gym. The only thing he’s changed about his diet are the more frequent coffee outings with Jeongguk. The man may be a gym rat, but it turns out he’s got quite the sweet tooth. Consequently, Seungmin’s been stuffing himself, too. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Hyunjin shrugs. “You look- happy. Glowing. It’s a good look on you.” He turns a little pink. “I think Kkami’s whining, I gotta go. See you around.”
Before Seungmin can get a word in edgewise, Hyunjin bolts into his apartment. More than a little confused, Seungmin goes into his own.
His phone buzzes. It’s Jeongguk, saying, Hope u got home safe😊.
He pockets his phone. He’ll reply to it later.
. . .
The first cracks start to show in the light of turning twenty.
They’ve bickered before, of course, but it’s never come to the point where they’ve raised their voices at each other. Never to a point where Seungmin bares his teeth, and Hyunjin bites back. They’ve always managed to overcome their differences by talking it out.
Not this time. This time, Seungmin’s tone is a little too sharp. And Hyunjin notices. Of course he does.
It’s Seungmin’s fault, mostly. He’ll admit it. He’s been looking for jobs for a while- the café he’d been working at went bankrupt, and despite the meager pay, it had helped them keep their heads above water. Hyunjin had found work at a record store, because other places hadn’t wanted to hire him on account of the whole teenage dirtbag look he had going on (Hyunjin’s own words). He’d also said the only reason the record store hired him is because he looks like the sort of person who’d be snobby about music.
“Don’t let them know you listen to One Direction,” Seungmin had teased.
But Seungmin doesn’t look cool enough to have an eclectic taste in music, and even the places which should’ve hired him on account of that didn’t. It leaves him a bit testy. Testy enough to pick a fight, and horrid enough to keep it going.
Later, he goes to Hyunjin as he’s coming to him, and they cry and they hold each other and Hyunjin fucks him a little harder than they’re used to, but it’s good. It’s good, because Seungmin’s tears mean something else this time. And this time, Hyunjin kisses them away, and it’s still good. It’s not great, but they’ll get there.
It’s a hairline crack, but a crack all the same.
. . .
The name of the restaurant Jeongguk texts him is some swanky five-star place Seungmin’s always been too broke to even peer through the window, even when he was living with his parents. As a result, he’s got no idea what to wear; the only things he’s got in his closet are perhaps worth as much as a napkin at Seokjin’s. Is Jeongguk tattooing the first lady’s ass on a regular basis? Or is he a tattoo artist by day, Hannah Montana by night?
There is only one man on earth who can fulfill Seungmin’s needs now.
“Definitely not.” Felix tuts at the shirt-and-pants combo Seungmin models for him. “You’re going on a date, not to be a youth pastor.”
“Why?” Seungmin looks down at his smart blue shirt and nicest khakis. “This is literally my nicest outfit.”
“Jesus is my homie, my homie from above-”
“Ugh, fine.” He holds up another shirt. “This one’s got stripes. I hear they make you look taller.”
“- My homie’s got me covered, he gives me lots of love-”
“You’re such an asshole.”
Felix snickers. “At your service, m’lady. Oh, fuck, no- put that down. Dude, do you want me to come over?”
“You’re literally in Australia.”
“Sacrifices must be made.”
“Don’t leave Jisung with the kangaroos.”
“Shit, you’re right.” Felix’s eyes go wide. “He’s so small, he could fit into their pouches.”
“He’ll leave you for the wilderness. He’ll be like Mowgli, but in reverse.”
Felix pretends to sob. “Don’t break my heart, Seungmin. Not when you’ve already wounded me with your terrible sense of style. Do you seriously have nothing in your closet that screams, ‘I’m fuckable’?”
“I’m not looking to get laid, Felix,” Seungmin says stiffly. “Jeongguk Hyung and I haven’t even gotten to first base.”
“Hyung, huh? Who knew you’d ever go for older men?” Felix sounds rueful. “Who knew you’d ever go for any other man, actually?”
If Seungmin never really got over Hyunjin, Felix is somehow ten times worse. And he’s vocal about it, which Seungmin really doesn’t need to hear right now. “Felix, I’m moving on.”
“Yeah, I know- Jisung told me I should, too-”
“You talk to your boyfriend about my ex?” Seungmin stares at Felix’s grainy image through the screen, pout crystal clear even despite Seungmin’s shitty WiFi. “We broke up two years ago.”
“I know, Minnie, but the last time you told me about him was a couple weeks ago,” Felix sighs. “And that was to say you bumped into him on your way out.”
“I didn’t plan on it,” Seungmin mumbles. Felix purses his lips. “Really, I swear. I- I admit I used to. But I haven’t done that. Not in a long time. Not since I met Jeongguk Hyung.” He rubs the back of his neck, realizes it’s achingly similar to a habit Hyunjin has, and drops his hand. “Hyung is lovely, Lix. You’ll adore him. He’s like Innie on steroids and fairy dust. But more handsome. Don’t tell Innie- or Chan Hyung- I said that, by the way.”
“You have my word.” Felix zips his lips and throws away the key. “Look, just see where this thing with Jeongguk Hyung goes, alright? Chan Hyung’s convinced you’re next year’s Dispatch couple, but don’t feel obligated to go along with it to spare Hyung’s feelings.”
“I won’t. And I’m not doing it to appease him.” Seungmin shrugs. “I actually really like Jeongguk Hyung, even if he texts like a millennial. We both agreed to take it slow. And if it doesn’t work out, at least I’ve got a friend, right?”
“You’d know all about staying friends with your exes, huh?”
“Felix.” Felix zips his mouth back up. “Good. Now what do you think about this shirt?”
Felix unzips his mouth halfway, and says through the corner of his mouth, “Ew.”
They finally settle on a shirt that’s both dandy enough for Seungmin’s tastes and slutty enough for Felix’s. Seungmin styles his hair (Felix pretends to swoon at the sight of his forehead. “’Tis as rare as a Victorian lady’s ankle!” he says in the world’s most terrible British accent) and dabs a little bit of his nicer cologne behind his ears and on the inside of his wrists and decidedly not where Felix advises him to.
Luck has a way of not being on Seungmin’s side, because he walks out the door the same time Hyunjin does.
Hyunjin stops in his tracks. Literally. Seungmin’s only ever seen it in the movies- and those, too, the shitty romcoms Hyunjin used to go gaga over. It takes him back-
- but that was then and this is now. “Hi, Hyunjin.”
“Hey.” Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to hide the way his eyes rove over Seungmin. “You look… great. Good. Uh, spiffy?”
“Thanks.” Seungmin has to leave. He has to go, because he can see that Hyunjin wants to ask him where he’s off to, and Seungmin shouldn’t answer. Because he knows what he’ll see in Hyunjin’s eyes, and Seungmin doesn’t know if he can handle that just yet. “See you around.”
Seungmin hails a cab to Seokjin’s, and wishes he could’ve taken it right up to the table, because the looks some of the people here give him makes him feel like something the cat dragged in.
But then he sees Jeongguk, and Jeongguk sees him, and his life feels a little less like something of a cosmic joke. “Hyung!”
“Seungminnie!” Jeongguk beams, his bunched-up bunny cheeks and overbite making him look much younger than his practically geriatric age (Seungmin is working on his ageism). “You made it!”
“No need to be so surprised,” Seungmin says easily.
Jeongguk’s smile falters. “Sorry.”
And, shit. Seungmin ought to remember that Jeongguk isn’t… well, he isn’t Hyunjin. “I was just messing with you. Did you order?”
“Yeah, just some wine, though.” Jeongguk worries at his lip. “You do drink, right? I’m sorry, I didn’t ask-”
“I do, Hyung.” Jeongguk’s going to apologize for the Civil War if Seungmin lets this go on. “Sweet place.”
Jeongguk puffs his chest out. “I happen to know the owner.”
“Wait, is this the same Seokjin Hyung who made you catfish your high school bully with his own photos?”
“The very one,” Jeongguk says with pride.
They order enough food to feed a starving family of four and their dog. Jeongguk makes him try a little bit of everything. “The chef really put his whole pussy into this,” he says earnestly, gesturing towards a particularly meaty dish.
Seungmin smiles wanly. “My compliments to him.”
“You can tell him yourself.” Jeongguk grins all over his face. “The crème brûlée is his specialty, and he usually comes along to introduce it. There’s a different flavor every time.”
By the time dessert rolls around, Seungmin’s belt feels awfully constricting and he’s about ready to pass out into a food coma. Briefly, he entertains the fantasy of Jeongguk carrying his limp body bridal-style outside and to his bed, and ravaging him on sheets with rose petals strewn all over, and then wants to throw up. Maybe it’s because he’s stuffed like a turkey and anything going up his anal canal will make him throw up the other end. Maybe it’s because he’s just coming to the realization that he can’t picture sleeping with Jeongguk. He’s not too sure he even wants to.
“Here he comes!” Jeongguk announces, and Seungmin has no idea who he’s talking about, so he clarifies: “Chef Lee Minho, of course.”
Seungmin’s blood runs cold. No. It’s a fairly common name, and there’s bound to be more than one of them in the business of cuisine-
Remember that part where Seungmin thought his life is less of a cosmic joke? Yeah, scratch that.
. . .
Hyunjin’s friends are himself in different fonts. If Hyunjin is Times New Roman- the standard, Seungmin’s standard, because fuck Calibri, that ugly ass font- Changbin is Courier, in all his beefy five-foot-something glory. Yeji is Times New Roman one font size smaller, because they’re so alike Seungmin is not entirely convinced they aren’t separated at birth. Pretty, Twitter-obsessed Chaewon can only be Helvetica.
Minho… Minho’s someone Seungmin can’t quite pinpoint.
He leaves Seungmin a little confused and a lot more intimidated. When Hyunjin had first introduced Seungmin to his friend group all those years back, Changbin had been the first to bear-hug him as an initiation ritual (this ritual would continue right up to until they broke up). The girls had taken slightly longer to warm up to him, but they’d come around all the same. But Minho is a bit of a wildcard- sometimes Seungmin thinks Minho might be tolerating him, but the next, he’s convinced he loathes him.
It isn’t until Hyunjin’s twenty-first that he finds out why.
He’d finally gotten a job at a local deli, and over the months, he’s managed to scrounge up enough to throw Hyunjin a modest party. Nothing on Jackson Wang’s level, but Hyunjin is a Jinyoung bias, anyway. It’s a cozy little shindig, with just enough people to qualify as a party but not enough for Seungmin to take out a loan.
Whoever’s phone is connected to the speakers has an entire playlist of girl group songs, and Changbin, Yeji and Chaewon are having a dance-off to Queencard (the girls are terrific dancers in their own right, but Changbin embodies the spirits of (G)I-DLE). Hyunjin is talking to some guys he knows from work- other guys who look like they’d also be snobby about music.
Seungmin keeps to the kitchen, making sure the drinks never run out, and that’s where Minho finds him. “Oh, hi, hyung. Can I get you anything?”
“Hyunjin told me you think I don’t like you.”
Seungmin halts. Seriously? “Am I wrong?” he asks cautiously.
Minho shrugs. “No.” Ouch. “But I don’t not like you, either. You’ve never given me a reason to root for either side.”
“Hyunjin likes me,” Seungmin points out. “Shouldn’t that hold some weight?”
“Yeah, but I also figured you’d dump him in a year, give or take.”
“You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“No.” Minho shrugs. “I’m pleasantly surprised that you managed to prove me wrong, though. It’s what rich boys like you are supposed to do.”
Suddenly, the reason why Minho avoids Changbin like the plague makes a whole lot more sense. “That’s an awfully broad generalization.”
Minho nods. “I’m beginning to see that.”
He spins on his heel and walks out- too late, Seungmin realizes he’s stolen the drink Seungmin made for himself. Minutes later, he spots it in Changbin’s hands while he throws it back to Gashina.
Minho, he decides, is Arial.
. . .
The crème brûlée is exceptional. Seungmin can’t say for certain that Minho has not spit in it. He slides his serving over to Jeongguk, who digs in obliviously.
He knows it’s not fair, but he can’t help but resent Jeongguk for not sensing the chill in the air the minute Minho had locked eyes with him. How could he not have seen the frigidity in Minho’s eyes, the ice dripping from his every word? Because Seungmin damn near got frostbite.
Minho is being unreasonable. It’s been over two years. Hyunjin’s probably dated, like, a billion people in between.
Except he hasn’t. Seungmin knows this because he lives next door, and Hyunjin has not once brought anybody home. It’s even less likely that he’s stayed the night elsewhere, because he dotes on Kkami like a child. Seungmin knows this, too, because he lives next door.
Why the fuck did he decide to live next door?
Seungmin knows this most of all.
But sweet, unsuspecting Jeongguk doesn’t, and it’s not fair to him. Minho’s wrath can freeze over the city of Seoul, but Seungmin shan’t be moved. He can’t, not when Jeongguk’s paid all this money for what’s supposed to be a lovely dinner. Seungmin can’t break his heart, even if his own one’s on the chopping block.
So he fakes it. He smiles in all the right places, laughs at Jeongguk’s jokes even when they’re not funny, and at the end of the night, after Jeongguk walks him to the bus stop, he kisses him. Jeongguk’s lips taste like cherry chapstick and his hands are strong and confident around Seungmin’s waist, and it’s clear he’s had lots of practice. He’s twenty-six and gorgeous; of course he has. Meanwhile, Seungmin’s brain isn’t even fully developed yet. Maybe that’s why he’s not processing anything yet. Maybe that’s why he kind of wishes he was kissing someone else.
. . .
At twenty-two, Seungmin is sad and a little messed up, too. He’s too broke for therapy, so he takes it out on the same person he counts on to bring him out of his funk. And Hyunjin is the same amount of messed up, maybe even more, because he puts up with Seungmin’s shit and pays back in kind.
The fights have gotten worse. It’s about the bills, then it’s about the laundry, then it’s about the new girl at Hyunjin’s job who keeps finding ways to hover around him. And then it’s about the things that never used to bother them before; Hyunjin runs the thermostat too high, so Seungmin cranks it down to Icelandic temperatures. Seungmin likes his quiet. Hyunjin likes his music loud. They don’t compromise.
The only time they get along is in bed. The only words on Seungmin’s lips are Hyunjin’s name and pleas for more, and Hyunjin’s mouth is often too occupied to retort. It’s the only time they get along, because it’s the only time they don’t talk.
Seungmin figures it’s better to not talk at all. He becomes a stranger in his own home, barely acknowledging Hyunjin, who follows his example. And then he takes it one step further, and starts sleeping on the couch.
By the time their neighbor moves out sometime in the spring, Seungmin has a decent amount saved up. Enough to pay his own rent.
“You can’t sleep on the couch forever,” Seungmin says diplomatically, the first words he says to Hyunjin in days.
Hyunjin looks at him like a deer in headlights. “You don’t know that.”
He still helps him move out. The neighbor’s left some of their furniture, including their bed.
They break it in together, for old time’s sake.
Seungmin doesn’t know who moves first- just that one moment he’s across the room and the next, he’s in Hyunjin’s arms, his hands in his hair, their mouths pressed together in an open-mouthed kiss. Hyunjin grabs the backs of his thighs, and then he’s holding Seungmin up against the wall, like it’s that easy. He carries him over to the bed and drops him onto the bare mattress that’s seen better days. Someone’s probably died on it.
They get their clothes off in the least sexy way ever, and Seungmin presses his lips against chainsmoking Winnie-the-Pooh. He drags his mouth up to Hyunjin’s cock, thick and hard and red against his stomach. Seungmin sucks it into his mouth, and Hyunjin tangles his fingers in his hair, and he fucks Seungmin’s throat raw.
He flips them around, like it’s that easy, and then he’s fingering Seungmin open with his long, gorgeous fingers. Seungmin traces his own name on Hyunjin’s chest, wonders what he’ll get to cover it up.
“Let me know if it’s too much,” Hyunjin says, like he always does, and then he’s pushing in.
Hyunjin’s the best fuck Seungmin’s ever had. Not that he’s got any points of reference, but he knows it will hold true whatever may come. They learned his body together, and that’s the sort of experience you just can’t replicate. Seungmin will be ninety years old and puttering away in the nursing home, and he’ll swear on his dying breath that Hyunjin’s dick game was unmatched.
He wants to laugh at the mental image, but the sound that comes out of him is a choked sob, and he realizes he’s crying. “Hyunjin-”
“Sh.” Hyunjin presses their foreheads together. His own tears drip down onto Seungmin’s face. “I know, baby.”
It’s the nicest he’s been in months. The realization only serves to make Seungmin cry harder.
After, Hyunjin cleans him up one last time, and Seungmin foolishly hopes he’ll stay the night. But- “Call me if you need anything, yeah? I’ll be right next door.”
“Yeah,” Seungmin says, even though they both know he won’t.
And then he leaves. Like it’s that easy.
They don’t talk again until a year goes by, and Seungmin’s gone through his Bella-from-New-Moon phase. After that, he also goes through two poorly thought out (and subsequently poorly received) haircuts. He shows up on Felix and Jisung’s doorstep one night, sobbing and drunk out of his mind, and they make him stay with them for three days.
When they finally let him go back home, Hyunjin has a dog.
It’s completely by accident that Seungmin finds out. He’s trudging up the stairs (their elevator broke down around the same time things ended with Hyunjin, so now not only is Seungmin heartbroken, he’s also winded), armed with tupperware filled to the brim with Felix’s cooking that he insisted Seungmin take home. “I’ll come by in a couple of days to cook something for you, and these better be scraped clean when I do,” he’d said, while Jisung stood behind him, nodding sagely and saying, “Yuh-huh, or else.” And he’d dragged a finger across his throat in a slicing motion. Seungmin couldn’t argue with a threat of that scale.
He almost steps on the ball of fur on the staircase. “Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
The ball of fur gives him a quizzical look. It’s a cute little thing, more fur than anything else, a little googly-eyed and drooly, but that just adds to its charm.
“Where’s your owner?” Seungmin coos, as if the dog is suddenly going to develop proficiency of the Korean language and say, “Why, right this way, good sir!”
“Kkami, there you are!”
Seungmin has been artfully dodging Hyunjin the past year, which has taken time and commitment and more than a little help on Hyunjin’s part, if he’s being honest with himself. That long, perfect streak; all ruined because of a creature that doesn’t come up to Seungmin’s knees.
To quote (Seungmin’s) Homer Simpson (sweater), “D’oh!”
He’s loathe to admit it, but Hyunjin looks good. His hair is up to his shoulders now, and he’s become more ink than skin- a whole bunch of new tattoos on the bare skin Seungmin used to map. The One Direction punk edits had always been his favorites, after all, so you can’t blame him for staring.
“Hey.” Hyunjin rubs the back of his neck. “I see you’ve met Kkami.”
“Kkami,” Seungmin echoes, and the Kkami in question gives him a curious look. “Cute. I didn’t know you got a dog.”
He feels stupid the minute he says it, because why the fuck would Hyunjin update him about his life? No, seriously, Seungmin, why the fuck?
Hyunjin spares him the embarrassment by being nonchalant about it (because of course he is). “Yeah, I adopted him a couple days ago. Since I’ve got all this space to myself now…” He trails off with an awkward laugh.
Seungmin can’t believe he’s been replaced by a dog. “Ha. Yeah.” He wants to pull out his teeth. He wants to pull out Hyunjin’s teeth, see how perfect his face looks then. Instead, he says, “Do you want casserole? Felix bullied me into taking it, but I can’t finish it by myself.”
Hyunjin’s supposed to turn him down. He’s supposed to laugh in Seungmin’s face and call him a loser for trying to wring another minute with his ex. Instead, he says, “Sure.”
He hasn’t changed the inside of the apartment by much- just a couple paintings here and there; he’s improved in leaps and bounds since Seungmin used to live here and trip over his art supplies on a daily basis. It’s the one luxury Hyunjin allowed himself, and for good reason; his paintings belong in a museum, not on the floor of an apartment that’s seen better days.
The plates are still where he left them, and Seungmin grabs the one Hyunjin uses the most out of habit. He scrapes a little more than half the casserole onto it, and then adds a little more. For Kkami, he tells himself.
He spins around to see Hyunjin watching him from the doorway. He holds his gaze for a beat, then looks away. “Well, I guess I’ll be off, then. Thanks for helping me finish this.”
Hyunjin starts. Seungmin waits for him to ask him to stay, just so he can turn him down. Instead, he says, “Alright.”
. . .
Jeongguk’s idea of a date always involves some sort of physical activity. Seungmin is only too happy to watch Jeongguk being active- because Jeongguk always strips down to a thin white t-shirt and, to clarify, Jeongguk is shredded. Jeongguk is only too happy to ruin Seungmin’s idea of happiness by dragging him into it.
“Come on, it’ll be fun!” he says about rock climbing, rollerblading, or bowling.
It never is.
Seungmin doesn’t have the heart to tell him he isn’t enjoying shit and is in fact having quite a terrible time of it. But when Jeongguk suggests bungee jumping, Seungmin puts his foot down.
“I’m sorry, hyung, but over my cold, dead body,” he tells a pouting Jeongguk.
Seungmin mollifies him with a kiss. “What do you want to do, then?”
Maybe it’s Kkami that’s left him with dogs on the mind, but- “There’s this cute little dog café Jeongin told me about. I was thinking we could go.”
Best of all? None of his ex-boyfriend’s friends work there.
On Saturday, Seungmin wears his cutest cardigan that’s also least likely to attract much fur, and jans that will make his legs look great on Instagram. He walks out the door with no sight or sound of Hyunjin. Things are going great already.
Things go so great, in fact, that he takes Jeongguk home with him.
It’s entirely unplanned- their makeout session just escalates a bit, and Jeongguk seems happy enough to desecrate the restroom, but Seungmin’s in his Instagram jeans and he’s not about to get on his knees.
They barely make it through the door because Jeongguk keeps groping his dick, and then they’re tearing their clothes off each other. There’s no finesse, no effort wasted on stripteases, because Seungmin needs a dick in him and he needs it now.
That’s where things go not so great.
“Do you want to finger me, or should I do it myself?” Jeongguk asks him, and Seungmin freezes.
“Uh, I don’t… I’ve never…”
“Don’t tell me you go in raw, Seungminnie!” Jeongguk gasps, scandalized. “That shit hurts- believe me, I once hooked up with a guy who didn’t believe in foreplay and he nearly tore my ass up to my belly button.”
Seungmin takes a deep breath. “Hyung, I’m a bottom.”
Jeongguk’s mouth snaps shut. “Oh. So you’ve never…” Seungmin shakes his head. “And you don’t want to…” Seungmin shakes his head more vehemently. “Well. I’m thinking this is a conversation we should’ve had before. No, don’t apologize- it’s my fault as much as yours. I know I give off the whole alpha male vibe-”
“You don’t,” Seungmin interrupts. “And even if you did, how you look has nothing to do with what you like in bed.”
“Clearly.” Jeongguk sighs. “I suppose we’re at an impasse.”
“I suppose we are.”
Jeongguk sits criss-cross applesauce, which should be awkward given the fact he’s butt naked, and it kind of is, but it’s also kind of cute because he’s got his thinking face on. At least his boner’s died. “You have any toys?”
“No, I… I usually just finger myself. And I’m not hard anymore, hyung.”
“Then that’s settled,” Jeongguk says, relieved, and in his relief Seungmin sees clarity: Jeongguk’s just not that into him. And it should hurt, but here’s the thing: Seungmin’s kind of relieved, too.
“Hyung,” he blurts, because he’s got to get this out of the way. “What are we?”
Jeongguk looks at him, eyes wide. “What do you want us to be?” he asks guardedly.
If Seungmin had any doubts, they’re all gone now. “I think… maybe… we’re better off as friends. What do you say?”
Jeongguk’s face splits into a grin. “Someone call Emma Seligman and make her write the Bottoms sequel.”
So things are going great, and then they go not so great, and then they’re going great again. And then they go to absolute shit, because Jeongguk walks out of Seungmin’s apartment the same time Hyunjin comes home from work. Which Seungmin knows, because he’s got Hyunjin’s comings and goings memorized like a total creep.
Jeongguk grins brightly at Hyunjin. Hyunjin’s eyes flicker from him to Seungmin, who realizes too late that he hadn’t bothered to put on much besides his boxers.
Wordlessly, Hyunjin goes into his apartment and slams the door. Jeongguk turns to Seungmin, frowning. “That was rude.”
Seungmin wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “He’s just an introvert.”
. . .
Seungmin is twenty-four, and he’s right back where he was at twenty-two. He sees neither hide nor hair of Hyunjin. The only indication that he’s still even there are the noises Kkami makes, and the muted sounds of Hyunjin’s music Seungmin sometimes hears through the walls.
Hyunjin’s been listening to an awful lot of One Direction. Clearly, someone’s 1D songs that made you ugly cry in your bedroom in 2017 playlist is getting a lot of replays. Seungmin can’t stand it. One night, when Hyunjin’s all up in his feels, Seungmin presses his phone against the wall and plays Once in a Lifetime at full volume. Hyunjin doesn’t play his music after that.
Chan is gutted him and Jeongguk didn’t work out. “I would’ve gifted the two of you a double-ended dildo if I’d known,” he says petulantly.
Seungmin inhales sharply. “With all due respect, hyung, no.”
Felix takes the news much better. “And so, they were both bottoms,” he declares solemnly, lighting a vanilla-scented candle. “RIP, Seungmin’s failed situationship. May you both find the tops you deserve.”
Seungmin’s got his girls. He’ll be fine. Until one day, he’s not.
Getting locked out of your apartment is the sort of situation people like Jisung get themselves into, because his brain has way too much going on inside it to keep track of silly little things like keys and his own health. But he’s got Felix, who is only too happy to tend to him like he’s a particularly delicate houseplant. Seungmin lives with dust bunnies and a couple of spiders, who aren’t very likely to open the door for him anytime soon.
He texts his landlord. Matthew Hyung replies that he is, regrettably, in LA, and sends a photo standing in front of the Hollywood sign. It’s a good photo, the sun lighting up his skin and the bleached ends of his hair. Seungmin reacts to it with a fire emoji, and Matthew texts him a key emoji in response. Seungmin looks up the price for a hitman in California.
Seungmin has two options:
- He braves the Pacific.
- He swallows his pride.
And he can hold his breath underwater for only so long.
He half-expects Hyunjin to not open the door. “I locked myself out,” he blurts the minute it swings open. “Could you…?”
Hyunjin’s face is as unreadable as ever, but then he lets out a small sigh and shuffles out. In two minutes flat, he picks the lock. “Thanks,” Seungmin says, and Hyunjin nods at the ground. “Do you… want to come inside? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
He knows they’re both thinking about the last time Hyunjin came to Seungmin’s apartment; Hyunjin’s eyes flicker momentarily to the bedroom door. It happens in a second, but Seungmin catches it all the same; he notices all the minutiae of Hyunjin’s movements. The small tremble in his fingers, the unevenness of his breathing. But he’d accepted Seungmin’s invitation, hadn’t he, so that’s got to mean something.
“So,” Seungmin breaks the silence when it becomes clear that Hyunjin won’t be doing it himself. He slides a can of beer across the kitchen island and grabs one for himself. “How’ve you been?”
“Seungmin, I…” Hyunjin splays his fingers across the countertop, flexes and extends them. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”
Seungmin blinks. “Why do I… what?”
“This!” Hyunjin gestures between them. “You’re fucking with my head. You’re the one who wanted to move out, but you talk to me like we’re friends. You bring other guys home, but then you invite me in. It’s just cruel, Seungmin, because you know I can’t say no.”
“Why do you want to say no in the first place?” Seungmin demands. “We weren’t working out all those years ago; you and I both know we would’ve ruined each other if we’d stayed.”
“You ruined me when you left,” Hyunjin says quietly.
“You think it was easy for me? It was the hardest thing I’d ever done.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“Because!” Seungmin throws his hands up in the air, frustrated. It’s not the same rage he’d been feeling two years ago; now, he’s just upset. “You started sleeping on the couch first. I figured you had had enough of me.”
“Because you kept crying at night when you thought I was asleep and I knew it was because of me.” Hyunjin looks away. “I thought I’d let you cry in peace and that you’d talk to me when you were ready.”
“I thought you hated me,” Seungmin whispers.
Hyunjin hears it anyway. “Baby, I couldn’t hate you if I tried.”
This time, when they kiss, they know exactly where to put their hands. Seungmin threads his in Hyunjin’s hair, and Hyunjin winds his around Seungmin’s back, pulling him impossibly closer. He tastes like tears and beer and something so unmistakably Hyunjin. He tastes like coming home.
They fall into bed in a tangle of limbs. Hyunjin kneels between Seungmin’s legs and peels his shirt off.
Seungmin presses his fingers to Hyunjin’s chest, right above his heart. “You still have the tattoo.”
Hyunjin interlaces their fingers together. “Why did you think I wouldn’t? You’re not that easy to erase.”
“God, you’re so corny.”
“You love me.”
Seungmin smiles, shy. “Shut up and fuck me.”
“Yes, sir.”
. . .
After, when Seungmin’s pleasantly loose-limbed, he gets to trace all of Hyunjin’s new tattoos and ask him what they mean. There’s a moth smack in the middle of his chest- “Like Harry Styles,” he says proudly. Seungmin hasn’t the heart to tell him Harry’s is a butterfly.
He’s also got a heart inked on the inside of his arm. “Jeongguk Hyung had a heart on his hand, too,” he murmurs absentmindedly.
Hyunjin stiffens. “Wait, how do you know Jeongguk Hyung? Is this the same one who goes to Changbin Hyung’s gym?”
“… I went on a couple of dates with him.” Seungmin peers up at Hyunjin. “You met him, remember?”
“That was Jeongguk Hyung?” Hyunjin pulls a face. “He’s in some sort of Beefy Bottoms Support Group with Changbin Hyung. That’s why hyung tried to set us up together.” He looks at Seungmin incredulously. “What the hell was he doing with you? You’re both, like-” He makes an ‘O’ with one hand.
Seungmin smacks him half-heartedly. “Chan Hyung and Jeongin think I have a type.”
Hyunjin snickers. “Well… do you?” He tries to appear nonchalant, but the tone of his voice betrays him (i.e, he is, in fact, really fucking chalant).
“Nah.” Seungmin smiles, and pulls him in for a kiss. “It’s only ever been you.”
Seungmin is twenty-four, and he is happier than he’s ever been.