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Today is February 14th, a special day when people across the globe express their love and exchange gifts. For Heechul and Kanghoon, it's their first Valentine's Day as a couple. However, just the day before, they'd come to a mutual decision not to make anything special out of it. Heechul dismissed it as a "capitalist scam" designed to sell overpriced chocolates to the lovebirds, while Kanghoon pointed out that they didn't need a specific day to show their affection for one another.
Yet by evening, what began as a "quiet, normal day" turned into a chaotic culinary war zone. They don't know who first gave them the idea to cook dinner instead of ordering delivery food as usual. They chose a simple steak and pasta to cook, definitely with no candles or rose petals in sight.
But putting Kim Heechul in a kitchen is a big mistake, and Kanghoon isn’t much help either.
They end up sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by the remnants of their cooking disaster. The steak is tough and overdone, and the pasta lacks flavor, yet they savored it as if it were a fine-dining experience.
Heechul wipes his mouth with a napkin and suddenly becomes a bit uneasy. Clearing his throat, he says, “So, I happened to walk past this vintage shop in Hongdae yesterday. Just... casually strolling by.”
Kanghoon chews his steak slowly. "Passing by?"
“Yeah. And somehow, this little treasure ended up in my hand.” Heechul reaches behind a cushion and pulls out a small, heavy box wrapped in brown paper. “I thought I’d give it to you to free up some space in my bag since it was heavy.”
He slides the box across the floor toward Kanghoon.
Kanghoon puts down his fork and unwraps the paper.
Inside, he finds a vintage Leica Summilux-M 35mm lens, a rare first edition. It’s incredibly expensive and something Kanghoon has been longing for over the past six months, but never bought due to its price.
He gazes at it, speechless, knowing that Heechul didn’t just happen to stumble upon this treasure. He must’ve searched for it, contacted dealers, and maybe even placed bids.
“Hyung,” Kanghoon whispers, running his thumb over the cool metal of the lens. “This is...”
“It was on sale,” Heechul lies, looking away nervously. “Like, in the clearance section.”
“You said we wouldn’t celebrate today,” Kanghoon reminds him, his eyes sparkling. “You even called it a scam.”
Heechul’s gaze drops to Kanghoon’s, the facade slipping to reveal a tender, vulnerable affection.
“I do dislike Valentine’s Day,” Heechul confesses. “I just... put up with it for you.”
Kanghoon beams, a slow, understanding smile. He’s aware that his hyung still struggles to express his feelings openly, but that doesn’t diminish the depth of his affection.
“That’s funny,” Kanghoon replies. “I was also clearing out some space.”
He gets up, walks to his backpack by the door, and retrieves a sleek, rectangular box, handing it to Heechul.
“My mouse broke last week,” Heechul says, surprised. He opens the box to find the latest wireless gaming mouse, custom-painted in his favorite shade of red. “Wow, this is what pro gamers use!”
“Flip it over and check the battery compartment,” Kanghoon instructs gently.
Heechul turns the mouse over and pops open the cover.
Inside, tucked between the batteries, is a neatly folded piece of notebook paper.
Heechul unfolds it to reveal a list written in Kanghoon’s neat handwriting:
10 Reasons Why Heechul Hyung is Less Annoying Than Everyone Else.
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You pay for the beef.
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You drive me home when my back hurts.
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You pretend to hate my coffee but drink it anyway.
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You let me win at games (sometimes).
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You smell like clean laundry.
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You fight the people I’m too polite to fight.
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You’re the only one who laughs at my boring jokes.
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You warm up the car before I get in.
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You looked at me when no one else did.
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You are the only person whose noise calms me down.
Heechul reads through the list, pausing at number ten that he reads twice.
He tries to joke about it, to scoff, but his voice chokes up. A burning sensation prickles in his eyes.
“Number four is a lie,” Heechul manages to say, his voice trembling. “I never let you win; you just cheated. "
"Sure," Kanghoon whispers. "Whatever you say."
Later, the mess is cleaned (mostly).
They sit on the sofa, exhausted and full, surrounded by the remnants of their little lies. The camera is resting on the coffee table, and the mouse is plugged into the computer.
The two of them are cozily close, their shoulders touching. Heechul has draped his arm over the back of the sofa, absentmindedly playing with the hair at the nape of Kanghoon’s neck.
“We're really awful at lying,” Heechul murmurs, his gaze fixed on the muted television
“Absolutely terrible hypocrites,” Kanghoon replies, leaning his head against Heechul’s shoulder. “The worst kind.”
Heechul turns to glance at Kanghoon, taking in the gentle curve of his nose and the content weariness in his eyes. He notices a small smudge of chocolate, remnants of their dessert, at the corner of Kanghoon's mouth.
“You missed a little spot,” Heechul whispers.
Leaning in, he doesn’t use his thumb this time. Instead, he gently kisses the sweetness away. It’s a soft, leisurely kiss.
When they break apart, Heechul is grinning.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, you little rascal.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hyung.”
At the end of the day, they both realize that while they dislike capitalism and the overabundance of pink hearts everywhere, they cherish the day for the excuse. They appreciate the chance to be soft and exchange gifts.
As they settle in for the evening, they conclude that being hypocrites isn’t so bad if it leads to moments like this.