Archive of Our Own

“Go on a date with me,” Seungkwan says.

Vernon glances up from where he’s spreading cream cheese on half a bagel, blowing his hair out of his face so he can look at Seungkwan properly. It’s a weekend, which means no work, which means Vernon leaves his bottle of hair gel untouched on the counter and lets his hair do whatever it wants. This specific Saturday, right in that nice pocket of autumn weather that all those love songs seem to be about, there’s a single cowlick at the back of his head, and his bangs are doing that flopping thing right into his eyelashes - all boyish, and rumpled, and cute.

Seungkwan hates weekends. More specifically, he hates how much he likes Vernon’s hair on weekends.

“That’s not very romantic,” Vernon says. It takes Seungkwan a few seconds to remember what the context is. “I thought you liked roses and chocolates and stuff.”

Seungkwan sighs. “Not a real date.” He says this like it should be obvious, because it is. Then he crosses the kitchen, snatches the bagel out of Vernon’s hand, and takes a bite. “It’s for a story,” he says once he’s swallowed.

Vernon’s eyes light up. “What’s it about?”

Seungkwan adds this to the list of things he pretends to hate - Vernon’s undying support for his writing. He hadn’t even meant for Vernon to find out, but one night months ago, he’d left his laptop open on the couch to go to the washroom and come back to the sight of bright eyes and a wide smile and “Seungkwan, you’re like, famous. You have clout .”

Seungkwan had snatched his laptop back, closed the tab that displayed his AO3 account in all its dumb homosexual glory, but by then it was too late. Vernon was smiling that smile - the toothy one, the one he always has when he’s in the middle of doing something dumb and glances back at Seungkwan for a reaction. The one Seungkwan hates for many of the same reasons he hates Vernon’s weekend hair.

So of course, when Vernon asked “Can I read your other ones?” there was really only one answer Seungkwan could’ve given.

“It’s about these two strangers,” Seungkwan explains, holding out the bagel so Vernon can take a bite, “who keep meeting in these really romantic date spots out of coincidence. I think it’ll be cute.”

“Everything you write is cute,” Vernon says. He takes a bite out of the bagel and continues, mouth full (Seungkwan winces), “but what does this have to do with our not-date?”

“I looked up some popular date spots in town. I wanna visit them, just to make the fic more genuine or something, I don’t know.” Seungkwan fishes out the piece of notebook paper he’d crammed into his pocket and hands it to Vernon, who takes it and examines it curiously. “But it’d be pretty pathetic if I was alone with all those couples around, so you’re coming too.”

Seungkwan waits as Vernon finishes reading through the list. “Lit,” he says, handing the paper back. And stealing the bagel back, too, just for good measure. “Are we leaving now?”

Seungkwan jerks a thumb over his shoulder, in the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m gonna go shower, and then we’ll go. Wear something cute, I’ll make you change if you don’t.”

“You always make me change,” Vernon says.

“That’s because nothing you wear is cute,” Seungkwan retorts.

--

They bus there. Meow Meow Cat Café , as it’s called, is tucked right in the furthest corner of a big commercial street, and it takes them several minutes of panicked wandering and frantic Googling to find it. “This is the worst start to a date ever,” Seungkwan comments. Vernon just laughs and holds the door open for him as they walk in.

The inside of the café is all caramel-colored wood and large windows. There’s pillows on the floor and couples sitting at tables and so many cats, Seungkwan gets distracted and runs off to pet them before they can even pay for the cat food.

“You need this,” Vernon says when he finds him several minutes later, holding two paper containers of cat food. There’s an apron tied around his waist and another one folded up in the crook of his elbow, which Seungkwan takes with a grateful smile. “Or you’re gonna get cat fur all over your clothes.”

“We have a lint roller at home,” Seungkwan says. A cat meanders up to him, all orange and fluffy, meowing curiously. Seungkwan doesn’t have time to put the apron on before it plants itself into his lap, digging its claws into his thighs until it’s immovable.

It’s calming. The cafe’s playing a Red Velvet ballad that he finds himself humming to, and the cat in his lap is purring so loudly he can feel the vibrations all the way down to his toes. Vernon falls silent next to him, and for the next little while Seungkwan loses track of time and Vernon and lets the atmosphere lift the weight off his shoulders.

Someone seated at one of the tables laughs. Loudly enough that it rings across the room, loudly enough that it almost sounds like Seokmin’s. Seungkwan glances up a second before he realizes that if Seokmin were here, he’d have made his presence known ages ago.

Seungkwan glances up. And his eyes latch onto Vernon’s.

“What are you looking at?” he asks, amused. Vernon has a habit of looking really intense when he doesn’t mean to.

Vernon blinks. “You,” he says.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes and swats at Vernon’s arm. He’s wearing a sweater Seungkwan picked out for him, white and fluffy on the inside, a little heart in the corner. It makes him look soft and dazed as Seungkwan says, “you’re dumb. Feed the cats.”

Vernon blinks again, harder this time, and nods. “The pussies want me,” he says solemnly. Seungkwan smacks him.

--

They eat lunch at one of the tables. The café serves soup and salad and little sandwiches that don’t do very much by way of actual nutrition, but it’s cheap and neither of them really want to leave just yet.

They pay for more cat food, which Vernon uses to start a jumping competition among the cats. Seungkwan stands to the side and takes pictures of the dumb faces Vernon makes until he gets scratched along the forearm, angry and red, and Seungkwan has to drag him to the bathroom to clean it up.

“I think you started a hunger games with the cats,” Seungkwan says as he holds a damp paper towel to Vernon’s arm. Vernon is leaning back against the sink, shoulders hunched over, and his hair is long enough that it’s starting to get into Seungkwan’s eyes, too. “They all have psychological trauma now. The cafe’s going to sue us.”

“Cat-niss,” Vernon says, and Seungkwan has no choice but to hit him again.

--

Seungkwan gets fur all over his pants. On the bus back, he picks one of the pictures he'd taken of Vernon and the cats, and sets it as his wallpaper.

--

They met in college.

Well, not really - Seungkwan knew of Vernon before he actually knew Vernon. Through his four years of business studies, at a university situated just outside of Seoul and just below the mark of ‘academically impressive’, he’d gotten used to people in his circle throwing that name around (ask Vernon this, give Vernon that, tell Vernon to burn that shirt immediately), and by the time he actually met the guy they could hardly be considered strangers.

Actually - by the time he actually met Vernon, they could already be considered roommates. Because the second Seungkwan mentioned the location of his new job ( t’s just as a barista but it’s full time, and it pays okay) to Jeonghan, Vernon was being thrown into the conversation once again. Something about how he managed to land an apartment near Seungkwan’s work and was looking for an roommate and you guys will finally get to meet, Seungkwan, I’m so excited .

And - well. They met. They talked. One thing led to another and two years passed in the blink of an eye, and now Seungkwan is straightening out the hem of Vernon’s shirt at seven in the morning, standing in their shared bathroom with the blinds half-drawn.

Seungkwan loves sunlight. Likes bathing in it like a housecat, but Vernon gets headaches and so they’re forced to meet in the middle. “I asked you if you had anything to iron yesterday,” Seungkwan nags, tugging at the fabric in frustration.

Vernon musters a sheepish smile, staring down at Seungkwan’s fingers as they press against the creases. “I don’t think I was paying attention,” he admits. “Just leave it, Seungkwan. It’s not that bad. We have to go or we’ll be late.”

Seungkwan huffs but complies, stepping back and letting his hands drop to his sides. “Hang it up when you shower later. I’ll go make toast.”

“I will,” Vernon assures. He maintains eye contact even as Seungkwan is backing out of the bathroom - another dumb habit, another thing Seungkwan pretends to hate.

Seungkwan makes peanut butter jelly sandwiches for breakfast, digs out last night’s leftovers from the fridge and shoves them into glass containers for lunch. Vernon meanders into the kitchen as he’s cutting up an apple, sandwich lying half-finished next to him, and starts a pot of coffee going.

Seungkwan watches, coffee brewing quietly in the background, as Vernon lifts a corner of the top piece of bread on his sandwich and winces. “That's a lot of nut butter.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes and throws an apple slice at him. Vernon catches it, shrugs, and pops it in his mouth. “Quit complaining. You never wake up early enough to make them yourself.”

“My sleep cycle isn’t as strong as yours,” Vernon protests. But Seungkwan’s right, and he knows he is, so he quiets down and settles for taking a bite out of his sandwich instead, extra peanut butter and all.

They finish their morning routine in sluggish silence. Seungkwan leaves first, he always does, shrugging on one of his lighter coats - it’s just starting to get chilly out - and making his way to the front door. His keys jingle when he grabs them, one hand already on the door, and he’s halfway to turning around and saying goodbye when he realizes Vernon’s right there.

Like - right there right there. Right there in the way that their arms brush when Seungkwan turns, and he has to take a few steps back before they do something dumb like kiss. “Don’t do that,” he chides. “You scared me.”

Vernon shrugs, but his smile is small. “You forgot this.” In his hand is a small paper bag - Seungkwan’s lunch. Seungkwan takes it with hesitation, although he’s not sure why.

“Thanks.” Something’s off, so he grins bright, hopes that that brightness reaches Vernon a little. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Vernon’s smile has softened around the edges. “Yeah.”

Seungkwan’s grin grows; he winks, and, with a wave and an over-exaggerated air kiss, he’s out the door.

--

“Your roommate is so cute,” Soonyoung coos, staring wistfully at Seungkwan’s lock screen. He’d stolen Seungkwan’s phone sometime during lunch rush, and now that business has slowed down enough that the only other productive thing he could be doing at the moment is inventory, he’s opted to sit himself on the counter and gush about Vernon. “When will I get to meet him? It’s been two years, Seungkwan, you can’t hide him from me forever.”

“I’m not trying to hide him,” Seungkwan says, trying to sound amused. Soonyoung’s never tried to hide how attractive he finds Vernon, has been talking about it since Seungkwan first showed him photos. Which is the way Soonyoung is, generally - finding beauty everywhere, especially in people, especially in rhythm and movement. It’s endearing. Seungkwan just doesn’t know why he hopes Soonyoung is joking about this particular attraction. “He doesn’t have time to drop by. He works pretty far from here.”

Soonyoung pouts. “That’s too bad. Can’t he take a day off or something?”

Chan, the only one doing actual work, straightens from where he’s wiping down the tables to frown at Soonyoung. “Get off the counter. It’s unsanitary.”

Soonyoung’s pout intensifies, but he hops down anyways. His feet have barely touched the floor before the doorbell is chiming, and all three employees of Moon Cafe & Tea are turning towards the sound.

Seungkwan’s heart leaps into his throat. Next to him, Soonyoung visibly brightens; across the cafe, Chan rolls his eyes.

“Hey,” Mingyu greets, crossing the floor in three unfairly long strides and resting his elbows on the counter. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, of course not,” Seungkwan says, plastering on his most gratuitous smile. Standing a solid half foot over Seungkwan and grinning toothily, Mingyu is basically an eager puppy cased in the perfect example of ‘tall, dark and handsome’. So basically exactly Seungkwan’s type. “Your usual?”

Mingyu’s smile brightens. “You still remember! Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

Seungkwan laughs, punching in the order and kicking Soonyoung in the shin under the counter when the latter starts making not-so-discreet suggestive expressions. “Of course I remember.” Then, in a surge of confidence unbefitting even someone as bold as himself, he adds, “you’re my favorite customer, after all,” and tries not to die of regret a mere second later.

Soonyoung coughs directly into the caramel syrup, which, gross . Seungkwan would kick him again, but he’s too far away and Mingyu is right there and looking a little flustered at the very blatant display of flirting Seungkwan had just showcased. Chan strolls past to take inventory, unbothered demeanor weakened just a little by the shit-eating smile making its way onto his face.

Seungkwan suffers too much. He deserves a raise.

After what feels like several thousand millennia, Mingyu seems to collect himself enough to dump a handful of coins into Seungkwan’s palm. Seungkwan counts out exact change as he says, “am I really? You’re not just lying to me because I come here so often, are you?”

Seungkwan drops the money into the register and slides the rest of the coins back over the counter, relaxing a little in the glow of Mingyu’s beaming face. “Of course not,” he assures. “I like it when you’re here.”

Mingyu puts the extra change into the donation jar and takes the cup Soonyoung hands him, smile unwavering. “I like being here, too,” he says honestly. Then, “I like talking to you.”

With that, he leaves, the bells echoing in his wake. Soonyoung hollers. Seungkwan doesn’t move for a solid five minutes.

--

Seungkwan buries his face into the couch cushion and screams.

“Did the cute regular come in again?” Vernon asks, padding into the living room with a bowl of cereal in hand and planting himself on Seungkwan’s back, effectively knocking the air out of him. Seungkwan chokes and smacks him until he stands up.

“Asshole,” he grumbles. (He doesn’t mean it - he never does.) Sighing, he pulls himself upright as he continues, “He said he likes talking to me. With a voice , Vernon. Like, a voice voice.”

Vernon hums, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “A voice voice,” he repeats through his chewing. “Very descriptive.”

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose and swats at him. “You know what I mean. Like - it got all soft, and low.” He sighs again, draws his legs against his body and tucks his knees under his chin. Leans against Vernon, who shifts to accommodate his weight like this is something he’s used to - because it is . “I don’t know. It was really cute.”

“‘m sure it was,” Vernon says. They sink into silence, the sound of Vernon chewing his cereal filling the room - which Seungkwan would normally find repulsive, but as he sneaks a glance up at Vernon, he finds his mind occupied with something else.

“Hey,” he starts quietly, adjusting his position so he’s kneeling on the couch, facing Vernon. He lifts a hand to Vernon’s forehead, brushes back an errant strand of hair - it’s a weekday, a work day, which means Vernon wears his hair slicked back - and presses the back of his hand to the skin there. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”

Vernon flinches but doesn’t lean away, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, and Seungkwan has half a mind to start interrogating him like an overprotective mother before Vernon seems to force himself to brighten up, straightening his posture and looking at Seungkwan with renewed interest. “Are we going anywhere this weekend?”

Seungkwan blinks, remembering the list of places and the planning notes sitting expectantly in his drafts. “Right. there’s this small cafe library thing. It’s near one of the pretty commercial streets, so we can go on a walk afterwards if you’re up for it.”

Vernon laughs, standing up with a now-empty bowl in hand. “Even if I wasn’t up for it, you’d force me to go,” he says, looking down at Seungkwan with a small smile.

Seungkwan pouts, aiming an easily-dodged kick to Vernon’s shins. “You make me sound like a terrible roommate.”

“That’s because you are ,” Vernon says, and laughs when Seungkwan chases him to the kitchen.

--

“I don’t even know what library colors are ,” Vernon despairs.

Seungkwan sighs. He’s been staring into the bleak abyss of Vernon’s closet for so long that he can feel a pleasant existential crisis coming. “Brown. Light blue. White. Maroon. Grey. Black. Come on, Vernon, we’ve been over this.”

Next to him, Vernon rubs at his temples, squinting as if deep in thought for a few seconds before pointing at a sweater. “What about that one?”

Seungkwan pulls it out and eyes it. It’s mustard yellow, with red block lettering across the front and black-and-white checkered stripes running along the sides. “Literally what the fuck,” he says.

“White?” Vernon offers.

“What the f- come on.” Seungkwan grabs Vernon by the shoulders and steers him out of his room and into Seungkwan’s. He points at the clothes on his bed. “Put those on.”

Vernon stares. “it’s double denim,” he says. “Last time I wore double denim you threw a sausage at me.”

“This is different,” Seungkwan huffs. “Just trust me. Okay?”

There’s a weird pause where Vernon just kind of eyes Seungkwan, expression unreadable. The air gets almost too heavy to breathe before he shrugs and says, “okay. So are you gonna watch me or…?”

“Right,” Seungkwan says quickly. “Right. I’m gonna… go.”

“You should probably do that,” Vernon supplies helpfully. Seungkwan makes a point to glare at him before he ducks out of the room.

--

Vernon’s outfit is just a brown hoodie under a denim jacket, fished grudgingly out of Seungkwan’s own closet, paired with ripped jeans Seungkwan knows he likes. When he steps out of Seungkwan’s room, arms held out in a half-hearted ‘ta-da’, Seungkwan’s heart jolts.

“I don’t get it,” he laments, rushing up to fix Vernon’s sleeves. “Why do you dress so ugly? You look so nice in good clothes.”

“My clothes aren't ugly,” Vernon protests, adamant. But he’s blushing when Seungkwan looks at him, and when Seungkwan raises a questioning eyebrow, he adds, albeit hesitantly, “you think I look nice?”

Seungkwan grins up at him. “Of course. All because of me , obviously.” He gives Vernon’s sleeve one final tug before stepping back, putting some space between them. “Are you ready to go?”

--

Their second non-date starts almost parallel to their first one - they bus down to the district and take an inordinate amount of time finding the cafe, and the second they step foot into the building, Vernon’s already off inspecting some dusty vinyls, leaving Seungkwan to get in line for food.

He gets coffee and sandwiches and pastries in brown paper bags, the kinds he knows Vernon likes, and sets up at a table in the corner, next to a window. He’s brought a notebook with him this time, and jots down a quick description of the place before turning his attention to whatever Vernon is doing.

Which turns out to be sitting cross-legged on the ground, vinyl covers scattered in front of him, taking pictures with his phone. Seungkwan remembers the various posts on Vernon’s Instagram and isn’t exactly surprised. He chooses to watch Vernon anyways - sees all the weird poses he gets in just to get the right angle, smiles when he sticks his tongue out in concentration. His pen is tapping out a steady rhythm on the notebook sitting open in front of him, and he doesn’t realize he's written a vague description of a brown-haired boy with high cheekbones and bright eyes until he glances down at the page.

And - okay, it might be a little strange that he’s taking inspiration directly from his life. More specifically, his life with Vernon. But there’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Seungkwan can appreciate someone romantically without having actual feelings for them.

Right? Right.

He unlocks his phone, opens up his contacts and dials a very familiar number. Across the cafe, Vernon pauses in his picture-taking to frown down at his phone; he glances up at Seungkwan and raises an eyebrow like really? Seungkwan winks, gestures: just do it. Vernon sighs.

“I’m lonely,” Seungkwan says when Vernon accepts his call, “and you’ve been in that corner for the past ten minutes. Come talk to me. I have food.”

“You could’ve just waved me over,” Vernon says, but he starts re-shelving the vinyls anyways, phone tucked into the crook of his shoulder.

“Yeah, but I like hearing your voice.” Seungkwan realizes that this might constitute as flirting. But it isn’t, is it? Because this is what they always do - Seungkwan grins, and Vernon chuckles, low in his throat, and pushes his hair out of his face before making his way over.

It’s good. It’s simple. Normal rules of friendship just don’t apply to them, that’s all.

Seungkwan closes his notebook as Vernon slides into the seat across from him, peeking into the bags Seungkwan’s pushed onto his half of the table. He nods appreciatively. “Dope.”

Seungkwan grins. “Still think I'm a terrible roommate?”

Vernon pauses, sandwich poised halfway to his mouth. “Are you bribing me?”

--

They finish their food in five minutes and their conversation in twenty, and head out for a walk. Seungkwan points out clothes in display windows, and Vernon hums under his breath and pretends to understand. They meander aimlessly, dipping into stores for a few minutes before glancing at a price tag and dipping right back out, chatting - more like bickering, but Seungkwan is feeling generous - until the sun is significantly closer to the horizon than it had been when they first stepped out.

They’re arguing over the specific lyric of a song when Vernon grabs Seungkwan’s arm and points to something across the road. “Egg tarts,” he says, in a tone oddly similar to that of a child asking their parent for an overpriced toy.

“We just had pastries like, an hour ago,” Seungkwan points out.

“Egg tarts,” Vernon repeats. “And they’re super cheap.”

“I bet you’re not even hungry,” Seungkwan argues.

“I’ll pay.”

Seungkwan lets out a long-suffering sigh but gives in anyways - there’s a hint of that smile creeping onto Vernon’s face, and Seungkwan takes one look at his bright eyes and floppy hair and knows the argument’s already lost. “You’re the worst,” he says anyways, just to get the last word in.

“Egg tart,” Vernon repeats, in English this time, and Seungkwan smacks him.

--

Vernon keeps up the ‘egg tart’ chant even as he’s paying, just quieter and under his breath. Seungkwan is mortified by association, but at least the lady behind the counter looks mostly endeared. It’s not a surprise - Vernon tends to have that effect on people.

“I can’t believe I put up with you,” Seungkwan says once he catches up to Vernon, who’s meandered over to a nearby tree and started staring down a squirrel perched on one of its branches. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“If I’m so embarrassing, why do you hang out with me so much?” Vernon says, then grins and glances at Seungkwan out of the corner of his eye like he’s just delivered the greatest comeback since man started speaking. Seungkwan just scoffs.

“Stop scaring the squirrel and come eat your egg tart,” he says. “You spent a whole dollar on it.”

Vernon complies, stepping closer to Seungkwan and opening his mouth, making a small ‘ah’ sound with the motion. Seungkwan sighs and reluctantly feeds him, sighs harder when he grins and says, “worth it,” with his mouth full. There are crumbs all over his face, and his hair is getting all in his eyes again - Seungkwan should remind him to get a haircut - and he flicks it back with a ridiculous full-bodied motion, tossing his head back exaggeratedly.

The movement makes him stumble backwards a little, because of course it does. Seungkwan takes a step forward and puts a steadying hand on his arm; when he rights himself again, their faces come dangerously close to each other before they’re both leaning away.

“You’re ridiculous,” Seungkwan says, but his voice comes out weak. “Be careful,” he adds, a little stronger, letting go of Vernon’s arm, “Next time I’ll just let you fall.”

Vernon laughs. “You usually do that anyways,” he points out, and Seungkwan rolls his eyes and elbows him but doesn’t refute.

--

The thing about getting too close to Vernon - it brings up something Seungkwan would rather forget.

On the day they officially met, as potential roommates entering the job market together, Seungkwan had been heading back from a trip to the grocery store, two plastic bags weighing down his hands. Jeonghan had asked him if he was in the area, and when he’d replied yes, asked him if he’d like to meet the ‘Vernon’ that they’d all been wanting him to meet. Seungkwan was on a timer to find a place closer to his new work, with training the following week, so of course he’d said yes.

And so, at 4 pm on a Tuesday, he found himself standing in the front entrance of Jeonghan’s apartment, staring at the face he might have to see every day for the rest of the foreseeable future and trying desperately to form an impression.

An impression besides: he's gorgeous.

Vernon, Choi Hansol, Hansol Vernon Choi - all perfect skin and perfect cheekbones, eyelashes that cast shadows. Seungkwan tried not to stare as he introduced himself, tried even harder as Vernon stumbled over a self-introduction of his own. They made small talk, or at least tried to - Seungkwan grew uneasy at the long pauses between Vernon’s sentences, and wondered if there was something Jeonghan wasn’t telling him - why Vernon seemed so nervous .

But he never got the chance to ask. The ice cream he’d picked up at the store was melting, and Vernon looked a little overwhelmed, so he decided to spare the both of them and left after exchanging numbers.

After, Seungkwan gets used to Vernon enough that the shock of being in proximity to a Certified Hot Person wears off. But the thing about getting too close to Vernon sometimes is that it brings up something Seungkwan would rather forget - the fear he’d felt in the moment they'd met, the dangerous realization that given time, Seungkwan might come to fall for him.

--

Seungkwan comes home on a Friday to the smell of smoke.

He’s not all that surprised; Vernon texted him a few minutes before his shift ended to let him know that he’d be having his coworkers over, and Seungkwan has met them enough times to know what kind of situation that entails.

Vernon works at a music store, selling books of sheet music and records and artist merchandise, and there are two other employees he shares shifts with - three full-time workers in total that pull most of the weight in the store. There’s Seungcheol, who is vaguely dad-like in that he always does boring responsible things and wears the long-suffering look of an underappreciated single father; and there’s Wonwoo, who is vaguely dad-like in that he makes really lame jokes and has interests like classic literature and old movies. Seungkwan likes them, most of the time.

Except he’s beginning to revoke that sentiment as he heads into the kitchen to get a closer vantage point on Seungcheol, who is emptying a pot of noodles into the compost bin, shouting something that sounds mildly reprimanding at Wonwoo, who’s sitting on the counter solemnly eating a bowl of cereal. Vernon is standing on a chair between the both of them, fanning at the smoke detector with a kitchen towel.

Seungkwan approaches Vernon first. “Do I want to know?” he says under his breath.

Vernon glances down when he hears his voice. “Wonwoo was hungry, so he made himself noodles,” he explains with a grimace, stepping down from the chair awkwardly and straightening so that he and Seungkwan are eye-to-eye. “But he forgot to add water, like an idiot.”

“I’m older than you,” Wonwoo points out, but he notably doesn’t refute any of his other points.

“At least Vernon knows how to make noodles,” Seungcheol reprimands, standing up and running the pot under the tap. “Sorry, Seungkwan. We kind of made a mess.”

“That’s okay,” Seungkwan says, feels kind of forced into it too - Seungcheol has that reasonably remorseful look of a distraught fast food chain manager. “Vernon and I have made worse messes.”

Seungcheol laughs just as the sound of a toilet flushing echoes faintly from the washroom. Seungkwan frowns - everyone is accounted for, so who else-? “Oh, yeah,” Vernon says, bumping shoulders with him as he reappears at his side. “There’s a new part-timer who helps out sometimes. We invited him. I think you’ll like him.”

“You think I’ll like everyone,” Seungkwan points out - ironically, it turns out, because the person who emerges from the shadows of the hallway is none other than the overgrown golden retriever of a coffee lover Seungkwan thinks he sees in his dreams sometimes.

Seungkwan feels like his life is ending.

“Oh hey, Seungkwan!” Mingyu looks surprised to see him, all bright-eyed and cheerful. He’s wearing a cream-colored sweater and jeans, looks all casually presentable and unreasonably attractive. Seungkwan can’t breathe. “So you’re the roommate Vernon talks about all the time.”

“I guess I am,” Seungkwan says a little breathlessly. He feels like swooning, but then he reminds himself that he is an adult with romantic experience behind him and better flirting game than whatever this is, so he pushes past the panic and smiles. “So I guess I’ll be seeing you a lot more often, huh?”

Mingyu grins - the human equivalent of tail-wagging, basically - and asks, “is that a bad thing?”

“Definitely not,” Seungkwan says. Mingyu grins brighter, and he decides to take a chance. “You know what is, though? The fact that I don’t have your number yet.”

Mingyu’s entire body, face included, freezes. Seungkwan guesses it’s because he’s not used to such forward advances, has his hunch confirmed when Mingyu unfreezes himself a few seconds later and blurts out, “was that a pickup line?”

Seungkwan laughs. This is a little too easy. “If you want it to be.”

Mingyu tilts his head, regarding him for a second; it’s oddly similar to what Vernon does, except Vernon’s a lot better at hiding his emotions when he wants to - Mingyu’s eyes are like a book, pages flipping frantically as he weighs the outcomes. Finally, he reaches into his back pocket and fishes out his phone, unlocks it and hands it over.

Seungkwan cheers silently as he locates the contacts app and types his number in; hesitates, and saves his name as Seungkwan :) , opting out of using a heart emoji at the last minute. “I’ll text you,” Mingyu promises, tucking his phone back into his back pocket. Seungkwan opens his mouth to reply, but it’s then that Seungcheol emerges behind Mingyu, bumping shoulders with him in silent greeting.

“We’re gonna head out now,” he says, ignoring - or missing - the fact that Mingyu, despite having several inches on him, stumbles a little with the force of the gesture. “You wanna come?” he directs this to Seungkwan, who feels all warm inside at how easily they’ve absorbed Mingyu into their friend group. It doesn’t even matter that he’s an outsider looking in; looking at the way Mingyu seems completely at ease when Seungcheol drapes an arm over his shoulders, Seungkwan feels happy just to be near them.

Which is why he smiles, shakes his head and takes a step back. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m pretty tired. Can’t handle my alcohol right now,” he jokes.

“You can never handle your alcohol,” someone mumbles from behind him. Seungkwan turns to see Vernon putting his shoes on near the doorway, body angled so it’s almost like he’s purposefully avoiding Seungkwan’s eyes. He’s wearing one of his nicer shirts, the one that makes his skin look all glowy, and tight jeans - the combined efforts of Seungcheol and Mingyu, probably. His hair is half-gelled, and there’s a smudge of eyeliner darkening his eyes. Seungkwan bites his tongue.

“Don’t push your limits,” he tells Vernon, watching him get ready. “You always get the worst hangovers. And we’re still going out tomorrow, right?”

Vernon straightens, angles his head slightly so his eyes barely meet Seungkwan’s. “I won’t,” he says. “And sure.” He turns away and opens the door, saying something to Wonwoo standing nearby.

Seungkwan’s heart drops to the floor. What’s wrong? he wants to ask, because Vernon is clearly upset with him, and that never happens. But then Vernon is stepping out the door, grabbing his keys, and Seungcheol and Wonwoo are following him, bickering over something insubstantial. Mingyu trails along behind them, pausing just before the door shuts to frown at him: everything okay ?

Seungkwan just shrugs. “Have fun,” he manages, waving.

Mingyu smiles. The door shuts.

Seungkwan stands in his apartment, alone, Vernon’s eyes stuck in his mind.

--

Seungkwan’s three pages into his story, notebook lying open on his lap, when Vernon comes home.

Seungkwan’s about to reprimand him - it’s past midnight, and Vernon is loud , stumbling over his own feet and scattering the shoes that are piled up near the door - but then he remembers their exchange earlier and hesitates. “You’re home early,” he says instead, turning down the brightness of his laptop screen.

“Drank too much,” Vernon mumbles, dragging his feet to the bathroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, vomiting sounds echoing through their tiny apartment; Seungkwan winces sympathetically but doesn’t get up to help like he usually would. Something still feels a little off. Vernon pokes his head out the door a few minutes later and continues, “Seungcheol made me go home.”

“Seungcheol’s my favorite,” Seungkwan says. Vernon makes a non-committal sound and disappears into his bedroom, remembering to close the door behind him this time. Seungkwan stares for a few minutes before going back to work.

--

Vernon is mad at him.

Well - actually, Seungkwan can’t fully confirm this, because Vernon has been holed up in his room all morning with what Seungkwan guesses is a massive hangover. But the fact that he hasn’t come out once except to go to the bathroom is strange, considering his usual hangover cure is drinking lots of water and cuddling with Seungkwan on the couch in the dark, Amine’s latest album playing quietly in the background.

Seungkwan tries not to think about this too much as he putters around the kitchen, making fried rice from the dinner leftovers. The oil has just started sizzling in the wok when his phone buzzes on the counter next to him, the screen lighting up with a text notification.

Seungkwan glances over. It’s from Jeonghan: seokmin and i r getting coffee, wanna come?

He considers his options as he dumps last night’s leftovers into the wok, turning on the overhead fan when steam billows upwards. Normally, he wouldn’t even consider going outside when Vernon is so clearly in need of company; but then he remembers that they haven’t really spoken since last night, and then he remembers exactly what happened last night - and suddenly he’s grateful Jeonghan’s given him an excuse to get out of the house.

“You making lunch?”

Seungkwan tenses for a second before turning to face Vernon, a smile smoothed onto his face. “Yeah. Fried rice. I’m getting rid of the leftovers. Are you okay to eat some?”

Vernon makes a non-committal sound from where he’s standing in the entrance, slouched against a wall. “I’m not okay to do anything.”

Seungkwan sighs, turning his attention back to lunch. He’s still hyperaware of Vernon’s presence, though - wrinkles his nose instinctively when he hears the sound of the refrigerator opening. He can picture Vernon staring blearily into the contents of the fridge. “I told you to be careful,” he says quietly.

Silence stretches between them for a few moments too long before Vernon’s sighing. “I know,” he replies, and if Seungkwan listens hard he thinks he can make out the ghost of an apology.

It’s not enough, though. The look Vernon had given him the night before, the way he’d stumbled home hours later, still sits heavy in his chest, makes the silence between them thick with tension. He turns the stove off, texts a quick reply to Jeonghan and says, “I’m going out.”

Vernon pauses. Seungkwan half-expects him to resist, to tug at his shirt and widen his eyes and say, “but I’m dying ,” but he doesn’t. All he says is, “okay,” and, “I’ll try to finish the rice.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan mumbles. When he turns around Vernon’s leaning on the counter a few feet away, carding his hands through his hair. He hasn’t bothered changing out of his going-out clothes - probably didn’t have the energy to, without Seungkwan nagging at him. Seungkwan glances over rumpled fabric and buttons half-undone and decides he needs to get out of there. “See you in a few hours.”

“Okay.”

Seungkwan closes the door to silence.

--

A little less than an hour later, Seungkwan is sitting in a sunlit cafe, the matching glows of both Seokmin and Jeonghan across from him. They’d both gotten cushy corporate jobs after university, something that Seungkwan finds shoved in his face as he stares down at his way-overpriced latte; he’s glad they’ve all known each other for so long, or he might’ve ceased to function from embarrassment the moment Jeonghan saw the look on his face and offered to pay for him.

“I don’t think he’s mad at you,” Seokmin says, ripping off a piece of his danish and stuffing it into his mouth. A bit of jam gets smeared on his cheek - Jeonghan titters in disapproval, and wipes it off with a napkin. Seungkwan’s heart gets a little warmer. “I think he’s just…”

“What else can it be?” Seungkwan interrupts when Seokmin trails off. “He shuts me out, ignores me for a whole morning, and then barely holds a conversation with me after. Obviously I did something to piss him off, I just don’t know what .”

“I don’t think he’s capable of being mad at you,” Jeonghan points out. “You know, considering…”

Seungkwan blinks in confusion. “Considering what?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan says. Then, “Seungkwan, have you considered that maybe he’s just jealous?”

Seungkwan startles. “Of what? Of me ? What is there to be jealous about?”

Seokmin snorts. “Your ass, first of all,” he starts. Seungkwan breaks out of the moment to throw him a wink before going back to the topic at hand. “Also, didn’t he just watch you blatantly flirt with one of his coworkers?”

Seungkwan chokes. “Mingyu?” he says, a bit too loud. Then, quieter, “but why would he be jealous of Mingyu ?”

Jeonghan and Seokmin shrug in unison. “That’s up to you to figure out,” Jeonghan says, in a way that sounds a lot like he’s figured it out already. “Speaking of Vernon’s coworkers, how’s that hottie with the nice shoulders doing? Have you found out if he’s single yet?”

--

Seungkwan parts ways with Jeonghan and Seokmin, promising to meet up again and also to glean information on Seungcheol’s sexuality and relationship status. He watches them go, two refined adults well-adjusted to the world around them, and feels an all-too-familiar pang in his heart.

The feeling only deepens as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Just in time for dinner - if Vernon even bothered making dinner. He remembers that they were supposed to go out today, and the ache grows.

Just as it’s started spreading to his arms, bringing numbness in its wake, the door swings open.

“Seungkwan,” Vernon breathes, shoulders heaving like he’d made a mad dash to the door. “You’re home.”

Seungkwan registers the situation. In the time he’d been gone, Vernon had apparently recovered enough to change into his pajamas, turn on a few dim lights, and start dinner, judging from the smell wafting over from the kitchen. He’s standing weirdly, too - almost like he was ready to lunge forward but stopped himself at the last minute, looking awkward and hesitant in the doorway. Seungkwan feels warm from head to toe.

“Aren’t you still hungover?” He wants to touch Vernon, almost reaches out to do so - but he’s not sure where they stand, so he keeps his hands at his sides. “How did you-?”

“Took a bunch of Advil and slept for, like, three hours,” Vernon explains, smiling. The sight makes something in Seungkwan’s gut uncoil. “Wasn’t as nice without you, though.”

“Yeah?” Seungkwan laughs. “Didn’t think you’d be saying that after this morning.”

Vernon’s face falls, shoulders slumping with shame. Seungkwan instantly feels terrible.

Have you considered that maybe he’s just jealous?

“Sorry,” Vernon mumbles through an exhale. When Seungkwan looks up at him his eyes are downcast, eyelashes casting shadows over cheekbones. Seungkwan’s brain has the gall to point out how pretty his eyes are. “I’m sorry I acted like a dick to you. You didn’t do anything wrong, I was just-”

Seungkwan laughs. “Hey,” he says, shoving lightly at Vernon’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You were kind of a dick, but you had a rough day. I get it.”

Slowly, a smile creeps its way back onto Vernon’s face. Seungkwan thinks that maybe his face was made for smiling. “You’re not mad at me?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “I’m, like, always mad at you,” he says brashly, but something compels him to lower his voice and add, “no, I’m not. If anything, I just really missed you.”

Vernon’s smile grows bigger. “Come on,” he says, tilting his head in the direction of the kitchen and stepping aside to let Seungkwan in. “Let’s go eat dinner.”

Seungkwan laughs. “You’re such a good roommate,” he teases, elbowing Vernon in the ribs. Vernon coughs and wheezes like his soul’s been sucked out of his body with a plunger. Seungkwan rolls his eyes again, but can’t deny how at ease he feels, now that everything is okay.

“I’m gonna remember you said that,” Vernon swears. “No take-backsies next time I forget to put my clothes in the laundry-”

“Don’t push it, Choi,” Seungkwan threatens. Vernon’s laugh rings as he shuts the door behind them, trapping the warmth inside.

--

After dinner, Seungkwan sits on the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back against the armrest with his laptop propped on his thighs. Vernon sits on the floor in front of him and leans back slightly so his hair pillows on Seungkwan’s stomach, browsing aimlessly through Netflix; The Office’s opening theme plays loudly as Seungkwan edits his first draft.

Vernon hums along, just a little off-key, voice raspy. Seungkwan remembers Seungcheol telling him about how Vernon sometimes raps over the instrumental tracks that play in the store, when he doesn’t think anyone’s watching; how he’s good, incredibly good, good enough to make Seungcheol’s eyes gleam even in the semi-dark. Seungkwan wanted desperately to ask more, but there was a sadness in Seungcheol’s expression too, and he understood - Vernon keeps his hopes and dreams close to his chest, afraid to let them out just for them to get shattered.

He doesn’t realize he’s started absentmindedly carding his hand through Vernon’s hair until the latter tips his head back, looking up at him with careful eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

Seungkwan laughs, quiet. He’s never quiet unless he’s around Vernon. “You.”

Something in Vernon’s expression shifts, like a heartbeat faltering out of pace, before it’s gone again. “Sorry for your loss,” he jokes.

Seungkwan sighs. “I know, right,” he agrees, laying a hand over his heart dramatically. “It’s really taxing on my health. You know, mental, physical, emotional, spiritual-”

“Okay, okay,” Vernon interrupts, laughing, grabbing Seungkwan’s hand and lacing their fingers together. It’s a little awkward, Seungkwan’s arm folded in too close to his body, Vernon’s elbow jutting out; but their fingers slot together perfectly, and any snide comment Seungkwan was preparing dies in his throat.

On screen, Dwight yells at Jim about marijuana. “Wanna go out tomorrow?” Seungkwan asks.

Vernon grins. “Yeah.”

--

On Sunday, Vernon shows Seungkwan a record he brought home from the store and they play it in the background as they make brunch. They don’t really have similar music tastes - Vernon likes quiet rap, slow and reserved, and Seungkwan is all bright bubbly pop - but Vernon makes an effort to pick things he thinks they’ll both like. Right now it’s a rock CD from an up-and-coming band, melancholic guitar chords reverberating through the apartment as Seungkwan scrambles eggs and Vernon makes PB&Js - with the right amount of peanut butter, this time.

They set a bowl of fruit between them on the sunbathed table (Seungkwan angles the blinds a bit when Vernon squints and rubs at his eyes) with the eggs and the sandwiches and talk loudly for an hour, until the dishes are wiped clean and in the sink.

“There’s a Christmas market downtown,” Seungkwan tells Vernon as he’s washing the dishes. There’s only like five dishes in the sink but Vernon keeps scooping out soap suds to flick at him, and Seungkwan keeps hip-bumping him into the counter in retaliation, so it’s taking a lot longer than expected. “Do you wanna go? There’s a club there too, if you’re up for it.”

Vernon winces. “No thanks. One massive hangover a week is enough for me.”

Seungkwan scoffs. “This is what happens when you don’t listen to me,” he chides, carefully sidestepping the subject of the weird fight they’d had. “Can you even survive on your own?”

Vernon grins. “Without you? Nah.”

Twenty minutes later, the dishes are drying in the rack and Seungkwan is taking his gloves off, wiping his hands on the back of Vernon’s sweater just to gross him out. “The market’s only pretty when it gets dark, so we have a few more hours.” He puts his hands on his hips, surveying the small kitchen space and the apartment beyond. “Do the floors look like they need cleaning?”

Vernon comes to stand next to him, copying his pose. “Nah,” he concludes. “They aren’t sticky yet, so.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Don’t you think your standards are too low?”

“Don’t you think yours are too high?” Vernon replies easily, and Seungkwan tries not to smile. “We vacuumed last week, so we should be fine.”

Seungkwan hums in agreement, shifting his weight so he can lean comfortably against Vernon, one arm wrapping around his waist instinctively. “Laundry, then.”

Vernon groans. “Laundry sucks,” he complains. “You always tell me I’m folding things wrong.”

“That’s because you are ,” Seungkwan insists. “It’s okay, you can do the socks.”

Vernon sighs in despair.

--

“I’ve been thinking,” Seungkwan starts. They’re halfway through the laundry and about a quarter way through the new record (Vernon insisted on playing it again), and what Seungcheol said about Vernon and his love for music has been plaguing Seungkwan’s mind the entire time.

Despite how close they are, they’ve never really discussed the future - or the past, or the present, when Seungkwan thinks about it. They’re both business majors stuck in highschool-level jobs, and while Seungkwan feels a bone-deep frustration whenever he thinks about it, lies awake sometimes thinking about Jeonghan and Seokmin that day at the cafe with their clean haircuts and shiny smiles, he’s not sure Vernon feels the same. And that uncertainty unsettles him - they’ve disagreed about things in the past, sure, but those fights have always been about movies and cat breeds and the best Jay Park album, have always ended with one of them bursting into laughter. This - well.

Vernon means a lot to him. Maybe more than anyone’s ever meant to him, family notwithstanding. But his dream means something to him too - success, a sizable income, a respectable position. And the fact that it’s been years since he graduated and he hasn’t made any progress towards any of those unsettles him just as much as the idea of a real fight with Vernon does.

Vernon’s humming under his breath again, the sound filling Seungkwan with cotton until the air is too heavy to breathe. “You know Pledis?”

Vernon looks up as he tosses a pair of socks into Seungkwan’s pile. “The new film company?”

“Yeah.” Seungkwan focuses very intently on folding the t-shirt in front of him. “They’ve been advertising for a new mid-level manager, and I was thinking I’d apply.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Seungkwan can see Vernon’s movements still. “For a job? Why? You make enough money. If you think you’re not pulling your weight-”

“It’s not that.” Seungwan presses a crease into the fabric of the shirt and turns his eyes up to the ceiling. “I just - don’t you want more from life?”

“What do you mean?” Vernon must feel the atmosphere in the room drop, because his voice lowers with it. “I already have everything I want.”

He’s really good , Seungcheol had told Seungkwan, eyes bright. But there was something sad there, too.

“This is everything you want?” Seungkwan gestures around them. “Come on, Hansol. We have businesses degrees from a decent university, but we’re stuck in front of cash registers.” He’s talking faster, now, switching to Vernon’s Korean name because he can’t quite find the patience in himself to pronounce the English syllables. “It’s almost like we graduated for nothing. Don’t you think we’re going nowhere?”

“We aren’t going nowhere.” Vernon drops the sock in his hand, turning to look  at Seungkwan, eyes wide. Seungkwan has never seen him angry, doesn’t think he’s capable of that particular emotion, but his voice is tinged with confusion and frustration as he continues,  “We have stable jobs and a decent apartment and enough disposable income to buy the things we want. What else do you need?”

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan lies, gesturing in large movements. “But I didn’t put myself through four years of hell just to be making coffee all day. I want something out of life, Vernon, and I know I can get it. Don’t you want something, too?”

The question sounds innocuous leaving his mouth, but as the words settle between them and Vernon doesn’t reply, he begins to regret saying it. The silence stretches, bitter, but just as he’s opening his mouth to apologize Vernon says quietly, “It’s not that easy.”

“I-” Seungkwan cuts himself off, tries again. “So you’re just going to give up?” Vernon looks away, shaking his head. “You’re okay with just giving up?”

Vernon looks back at him. A thousand different emotions flicker through his eyes, too quick to decipher, before they melt away and all that’s left is an aching vulnerability. “I’m okay as long as I have you,” he says quietly.

The world clatters to a stop. “What?”

Vernon doesn’t answer. He doesn’t answer for what feels like an eternity, Seungkwan’s roaring heartbeat filling the space instead. He wants to look away, but Vernon feels distinctly breakable in this moment, quietly fragile in the palm of Seungkwan’s hand. He’s not sure there’s a right answer to this.

Vernon looks away first. He turns around and, before Seungkwan can even react, walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The sound is by all means quiet, nearly imperceptible, but it rings over the blood still rushing in Seungkwan’s ears.

Seungkwan sits down hard on the bed.

--

Seungkwan considers himself a pretty strong-willed person. Others would go so far as to call him stubborn, but that’s a pretty harsh word; meant for people like Jihoon, who only wakes up on weekends after hours of grueling effort, or maybe Jeonghan, who can probably ignore a person for years on end. Sure, he might be loud and brash and inconsiderate at times, but he isn’t stubborn. Just strong-willed.

Which is why it takes him a good half hour longer than it should to muster up the will (or maybe the courage) to apologize to Vernon. Seungkwan’s pretty sure he’s in his room, working on something - there’s muffled music coming from across the hall, accompanied by the occasional sound of a door opening and closing, a tap running. But the proximity isn’t so much soothing as it is nerve-wracking, because Seungkwan has no idea how to even approach the problem, much less fix it. And also because-

I’m okay as long as I have you.

And the thing is- the thing is. Seungkwan’s a pretty strong-willed person (not stubborn), and this whole situation is weird and uncomfortable and way too heavy to be dealing with on a Sunday afternoon in his pajamas with half a basket of laundry scattered over his bed, but also.

The thing is - as much as he wants success, a sizable income, a respectable position, has been chasing after it his entire life, he’s not sure any of it would mean anything if Vernon wasn’t there.

He sighs. Stares at the ceiling and wills his ancestors to give him some strength, some wisdom too, maybe. And also maybe a late growth spurt on the side, because after all it’s their fault he’s not six-foot-five. He pushes himself off his bed and crosses his room in three short strides, grips the doorknob so hard the metal would’ve probably dented if he were any stronger than he is, and swings the door open.

On the other side, Vernon freezes, hand raised to knock on a door that isn’t there anymore. “Shit,” he says. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hi,” Seungkwan says, fighting back a smile. His mood lifts so quickly he feels lightheaded. “Why are you here?”

Vernon blinks for a second or two before smiling hesitantly, sheepish. “I think you know the answer to that question.”

Seungkwan laughs in relief, nearly keeling over with the force of it. “Put your hand down,” he says, gesturing at the hand that’s still poised in the air between them. “You look stupid.”

There’s a vague sense of deja vu as he reaches out to link their hands together, letting them drop into the space between them - standing on either side of a doorway once again, mending the gaps. “Maybe I should’ve just waited for you to come to my room,” Vernon says, smile wide. “Then I get to bully you.”

Seungkwan scoffs. “In your dreams.” He swings their hands a little, tugs Vernon closer. “Are we still on for that date tonight?”

Vernon grins. “Am I allowed to dress myself this time?”

Seungkwan squints. “In your dreams,” he repeats.

--

Vernon actually ends up picking a not-hideous outfit for the Christmas market, just a red-and-blue sweater and blue plaid pants which Seungkwan knows for a fact are meant to be worn as pajamas. Actually, the outfit is kind of ugly, but Vernon looks unbelievably soft with his sleeves pulled over his hands and his hair flopping over his forehead, and Seungkwan can’t find the power within himself to protest.

Okay - that sounds a little weird. But any fluttering that might be going on in his chest every time he looks at Vernon under the dim bus lights is due entirely to Vernon’s unbelievable visual power, and not at all to any latent homosexual feelings on Seungkwan’s part.

Seungkwan falls asleep on Vernon’s shoulder, soothed by the rocking of the bus, and is woken by a tap on his arm minutes later. “We’re almost there,” Vernon murmurs, glancing out the window and then back down at his phone, where he’s pulled up a map. “Come on.”

Seungkwan follows Vernon out of the bus in a daze, only breaking out of his lethargic fog when the crisp December air hits him. “Sorry I fell asleep,” he says, rubbing at his eyes. Then he squints at Vernon’s choice of clothing and asks, “You aren’t cold?”

“I’m good,” Vernon assures. They start walking, sidewalks still free of snow, street lamps glowing warmly against the cold lights of the city around them. “I can just leech off your warmth after, anyway.”

“Freeloader,” Seungkwan grumbles. Vernon just laughs, and they fall into a comfortable silence as they make the trek across the last few blocks to their destination.

The Christmas market is accessible only by a nondescript cobblestone road, entrance tucked between two old buildings and marked by a wooden sign. Past the entrance, the road opens up to a bustling market, old brick stores straight out of the Harry Potter movies selling things like vegan soap and hundred-dollar T-shirts. Lights are strung up against the night sky, gold on black, hanging over their heads as they walk. They buy tickets to get in and are immediately swallowed by the crowd, Seungkwan grabbing Vernon’s elbow so they don’t get lost. “I didn’t think it would be this crowded,” he half-apologizes.

“It’s fine,” Vernon says with a smile, fishing his phone out of his pocket and lifting it to get a good angle of the scenery. “I’ll get some IG bangers.”

Seungkwan shoves him lightly. “Lame,” he says, but the words are undercut when he takes his phone out too, already thinking of ways to make the photos fit his theme.

“Hypocrite,” Vernon jokes, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He points at a nearby display. “Let’s go try on those hats.”

Seungkwan turns towards the display, only to land his eyes on a row of brightly-lit fedoras, all in various alarming shades and textures. “Let’s not ,” he says firmly.

--

Vernon convinces him to go in the end, because of course he does. They don’t buy anything, but Seungkwan has enough photos of Vernon in a rainbow sequined fedora to call it a productive evening regardless.

He sets a particularly unflattering photo as his new lock screen. The one with the cats was getting old, anyway.

--

Vernon takes a small break from work before the holiday rush. Seungkwan, unfortunately, doesn’t, because holiday rush has already started at Moon Cafe & Tea and if any of them tried to take a break Jun would just guilt-trip them into coming to work anyway. “I’ll come visit you,” Vernon says when he sees Seungkwan out the door in the morning, holding out Seungkwan’s lunch. “Maybe I’ll even buy something.”

“Please don’t order anything holiday-themed,” Seungkwan pleads, taking the bag out of Vernon’s hand. “If I have to make one more candy cane latte I think I’ll actually die.”

Vernon laughs. “Noted,” he says gently, and nudges Seungkwan towards the door. “Go. You’re gonna be late.”

“You better come,” Seungkwan warns. “Or I’ll die. Seriously. I mean it.”

“Sure, sure,” Vernon appeases, ushering Seungkwan out into the hallway.

“I mean it!” Seungkwan shouts. Vernon closes the door in his face.

--

This was a mistake. This was a mistake. Seungkwan is actually going to die.

When he’d imagined Vernon’s visit, he was thinking about a short conversation in the back room - enough of an energy boost to get him through the rest of the day - and then stationing Vernon across the café, at the window side counter on a high stool, so Seungkwan could make eye contact with him every time he was dealing with a rude customer. He’d been anticipating seeing Vernon’s smile out of the corner of his eye as he worked through the afternoon, holding Vernon’s hand and complaining on the bus back home.

And by all means, that’s what should’ve happened. But Seungkwan had forgotten a key factor in what is turning out to be one of the most exhausting afternoons of his life, and that’s Soonyoung’s massive crush on his roommate.

The realization settles in when Vernon walks into the café, just after lunch rush where there’s only a few customers left idling in the corner booths. Seungkwan sees him and it’s like the world has gotten brighter - but then Soonyoung sees him, and lets out a shriek that Seungkwan can only accurately describe as life-ruining.

“Oh, my God,” Seungkwan mumbles, burying his face in his hands. He peeks through his fingers in time to see Soonyoung literally vault over the counter to fling his arms around Vernon, who’s frozen in place with shock. “Oh, my God.”

“You’re Seungkwan’s roommate, right? I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long,” Soonyoung gushes, squishing his cheek up against Vernon’s. Vernon makes eye contact with Seungkwan, who’s still cradling his head in his hands, and widens his eyes in a silent, slightly desperate question. Seungkwan mouths, I’m sorry. “Seungkwan talks about you so much. And you’re even cuter in real life!”

Vernon says, strangled, “I’m… flattered?”

“I’m Soonyoung,” Soonyoung says, pulling away slightly but not doing much else by way of lowering his voice or energy level. “I work with Seungkwan. Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’m okay,” Vernon says, collecting himself enough to shake Soonyoung’s hand and offer a small smile. “Nice to meet you. What’s working with Seungkwan like?”

“I’m right here,” Seungkwan calls, affronted. Chan walks in from the back room, assesses the situation, and pats Seungkwan’s shoulder sympathetically before disappearing again.

“Awful,” Soonyoung says, ignoring him. “He’s the worst. What’s living with Seungkwan like?”

“Awful,” Vernon agrees. “He’s the worst.”

Seungkwan starts, “What kind of disrespect -”

Vernon laughs. “He can be okay sometimes, I guess,” he amends, smiling at Seungkwan. He’s standing close to the cash register now, close enough to rest his hand on the counter a short distance away from where Seungkwan’s fingers are tapping out a slow rhythm. Seungkwan sighs and slides his hand under Vernon’s, trying not to relax visibly when Vernon traces patterns over his knuckles with a thumb, preoccupied with listening to Soonyoung ramble.

Seungkwan flips his hand over so they can lace their fingers together; Vernon’s smile softens, the shift small but real enough that Seungkwan knows he isn’t imagining things. He doesn’t hear the falter in Soonyoung’s voice.

--

“I thought,” Soonyoung begins dramatically, “that we were friends , Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan scoffs. “Bold of you to assume you’re worthy of my friendship,” he says haughtily, ducks when Soonyoung swats at him. “What happened this time?”

“You just let me pine over Vernon like that? Without telling me you started dating? That’s cruel,” Soonyoung whines. “I thought you cared about me.”

Wh- “Wait, hold on,” Seungkwan says very quickly. “Vernon and I aren’t dating.”

Soonyoung pauses in the middle of his dramatic re-enactment of Titanic. “What?”

“We aren’t dating,” Seungkwan says, about as confused as Soonyoung looks. “I like Mingyu. You know that. What made you think we were dating?”

Gradually, Soonyoung’s expression morphs from one of confusion and playful hurt to one of pity and mild fear. “Oh, Seungkwan. ”

“Why aren’t you guys working?” Chan ducks in with perfect timing, head barely visible over the enormous box in his arms. He assesses the situation and frowns. “Why does Soonyoung look so scarred?”

“He and Vernon aren’t dating,” Soonyoung says faintly, a hand over his heart. “He doesn’t even like him.”

“Wait, what? You aren’t?” This is the only time Seungkwan has ever seen Chan act irresponsibly, as he sets the box down with a thud and comes to sit in the corner of the back room Soonyoung had dragged Seungkwan into five minutes ago. “But Vernon likes you,” he says, like this is obvious and not life ruining.

“Why would you say that?” Soonyoung yelps at the same time Seungkwan demands, “ What ?”

“Even I could tell and I was in another room,” Chan says, taking in the reactions in front of him and frowning harder. “You don’t know?”

Seungkwan chokes. Next to him, Soonyoung buries his face in his hands. “He’s not supposed to know,” he says, muffled.

“Hold on,” Seungkwan says, drawing enough oxygen into his lungs to form coherent sentences again. The ground underneath his feet feels unstable, all of a sudden. “Vernon doesn’t like me. We’re just close friends.”

Chan scoffs. “Close friends don’t look at each other like they want to jump their bones,” he says simply. The air Seungkwan had worked painstakingly to inhale is knocked right back out of his lungs.

Soonyoung makes a sound like he’s sobbing. “Okay, Chan, shut up,” he wheezes, “go and do real work, and never mention anything related to sex or love ever again. You’re a baby . How do you even know what ‘jump your bones’ means?”

“I’m, like, three years younger than you,” Chan points out, but Soonyoung is already on his feet and ushering Chan out the door, leaving the box he’d been carrying behind and shutting the door on his heels.

With Chan out of the way, Soonyoung spins to face Seungkwan, who’s sitting in the corner feeling vandalized. “Don’t listen to anything he says, he hasn’t even hit puberty yet,” Soonyoung advises. Then, in a voice gentler than Seungkwan’s ever heard it, “You really think you and Vernon are just friends?”

“I don’t think so, I know so,” Seungkwan says, like it’s obvious. Because it is, because Vernon has never shown interest in Seungkwan, aside from when he holds his hand and leans on his shoulder and stares at him with an intensity that’s breathtaking, especially up close, and-

Have you considered that he’s jealous?

Across the room, Soonyoung lets out a tired sigh. “Oh, Seungkwan,” he murmurs, like he’s all-too-acquainted with this kind of situation. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Vernon doesn’t like me,” Seungkwan says forcefully. Does he? “We’re just close friends. Friends can be touchy, can’t they?”

Soonyoung nods, looking afraid to say anything. Seungkwan sighs, relieved.

Right. They’re just friends. So what if they hold hands? Seungkwan holds hands with everyone. Hell, Seungkwan would hold hands with Jihoon if the thought of it didn’t make him fear for his life. Vernon leans on his shoulder because he’s tired after a long day of work, not because of any affection on his part. And the staring - sure, it’s strange and intense, but who’s to say that that’s not just the way Vernon looks at everyone?

They’re just friends. They’re just friends.

“We’re just friends,” Seungkwan repeats with conviction, and Soonyoung smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

--

The rest of the day goes as predicted - Vernon sits at the back of the café with his hands around a cup of iced coffee and makes eye contact with Seungkwan every time the latter gets a shitty customer, just so he can laugh at his plight. Soonyoung chats a little with him whenever he passes by; even Chan nods in greeting when he waves. Seungkwan, for his part, pulls Vernon into the alley at the back of the café during his breaks, and they split a sandwich and kick rocks at each other on the steps leading away from the back door.

At the end of the day, Soonyoung gives Vernon a hug and his number; Vernon promises to text, and Seungkwan stands to the side and feels like he’s allowing the world to end. Chan gives Vernon a fist bump, which is the most he has  ever interacted with someone in the café other than the other employees. Seungkwan takes two slightly stale cake pops from the display and leaves early, abandoning closing-up duties to Soonyoung and Chan, stealing Vernon’s jacket for the trip home.

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, the faintest layer of snow dusting the ground under their feet. Seungkwan complains about his day as Vernon listens, eating his cake pop contemplatively, one hand holding Seungkwan’s. It’s cold out, so Vernon tucks both their hands in the pocket of his sweater; Seungkwan lets the motion tug the two of them closer, shoulders bumping. He tries very, very hard not to think about the conversation he’d had with Soonyoung in the corner of the back room, the things Chan had said like they were the easiest things in the world.

But it isn’t easy.

It isn’t easy when they get on the bus in the middle of rush hour and find themselves pressed together amidst the crush of people, and Vernon lets go of his hand to grab onto the railing overhead, the other arm wrapping around Seungkwan’s waist to keep him close as the bus rocks back and forth. It isn’t easy when Vernon talks quietly into his ear, smiling a smile Soonyoung would definitely insist is fond when Seungkwan angles his head to look at him. It isn’t easy when Seungkwan looks at Vernon with his soft hair and softer eyes and thinks about the way his hands feel when Vernon holds them, the pages saved in his laptop about a boy who looks distinctly like the one pressed against his back right now.

It isn’t easy, because Seungkwan had been operating for years under the understanding that he and Vernon were nothing more than friends and roommates, living lives that were closely intertwined. Now, that understanding is crumbling, bowing under the weight of everything else he’s learned in the past two months; Seungkwan glimpses what’s hiding underneath and turns away instinctively.

No, he tells himself. It is easy. It’s easy because he likes Mingyu, and Vernon is definitely not into him, and they’re friends. That’s it. Easy.

Maybe everyone else is right - he is a little stubborn.

--

He’s getting ready to sleep when his phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. He unlocks it and climbs into bed, fully expecting it to be from his cell service provider or a Nigerian prince, and nearly drops his phone onto his face when he reads the message.

hey! this is mingyu. the café guy?

how’s your day been? sorry i didn’t text you sooner, seungcheol forced me to wait because apparently i would come off as too ‘desperate’ which coming from him is pretty funny so i don’t know why i listened but anyway i’m here now!

Seungkwan snorts. Mingyu texts the exact same way he speaks, which is unendingly endearing. He doesn’t bother worrying over reply time, typing back a lengthy response to match the lengthy text and sending it right away.

They text for a good half hour before collectively remembering that they both have work the next day, and say goodnight with promises to continue the conversation in the morning. Seungkwan turns off his night light and settles in to sleep, unable to stop smiling.

He sleeps well that night, dreaming of crowded buses and counting change.

--

A week later, an email pops up in his inbox.

From: Pledis HR

Mr. Boo,

We regret to inform you that you have not been selected for an interview…

There’s a lot more after that, at least a paragraph of painfully stiff platitudes about how his resume was of good quality and he has impressive achievements but Seungkwan doesn’t bother reading any of it, just repeats the first line over and over in his head as he wipes down perfectly clean counters and tries not to feel too crushed.

It makes sense. Why would they hire him, a relatively young person whose only job experience involves standing behind a cash register? Still, he can’t ignore the heaviness in his chest, an unfamiliar weight after the fluttery nerves he’d been plagued with for weeks. He drags his feet on the way home and lands on the couch with a dull thud .

Vernon’s door opens a few seconds later, the sound of socked feet padding against the wooden floor gradually getting closer until there’s a hand in Seungkwan’s hair, sifting through the strands. “You okay?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

Seungkwan turns his head to the side, partly so he doesn’t suffocate in the couch cushions and partly so he can look up at Vernon, who’s kneeling on the floor next to him. There must be something about the way he looks that conveys his feelings, even with the way his cheeks are squished against the couch, because Vernon sighs, settles cross-legged on the floor, and brushes a thumb against his temple. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Seungkwan admits. He’s not sure if he can say more than a few words at a time without bursting into tears. “I didn’t get the job.”

“At Pledis?” Seungkwan nods. “I’m sorry,” Vernon says quietly, even though the memory of their argument the week before is still fresh in the air. “I know it meant a lot to you.”

Seungkwan nods again, turns his head the other way so he won’t feel too embarrassed if he cries. It’s not like he hasn’t cried in front of Vernon before - the time they marathoned Goblin together broke down that barrier pretty quickly - it’s that this, for the first time, is something Vernon doesn’t fully understand. It’s that this probably all seems a little stupid and over-dramatic to Vernon, who has stayed vigilant through his mood swings and his girl group obsessions. So Seungkwan keeps his face turned away and stays silent, lets the feeling of Vernon’s fingers through his hair lull him to a space where he doesn’t feel anything at all.

Eventually, Vernon leaves to make dinner, giving Seungkwan ample room to cry. He sits up on the couch and turns the TV on, leaving the volume loud enough that Vernon won’t be able to hear his sniffling from the kitchen, a fact that Vernon probably notices but mercifully doesn’t comment on. The bright lights of the latest Marvel movie flashes through the darkened living room, blurring in Seungkwan’s vision as he wipes furiously at his eyes, feeling a little dumb at crying over something as common as a job rejection. An expected job rejection, no less.

Vernon comes back an hour later with a box of tissues and a bowl of soup that’s just a little on the bland side, handing Seungkwan the bowl and settling onto the couch next to him. They watch the last bit of the movie together in silence, Seungkwan pretending not to notice the way Vernon glances at him in concern every other minute. He finishes the soup and wonders if it won’t be too gross of him to just leave the dishes for tomorrow and go to sleep without doing anything else.

He’s in the middle of convincing himself that basic hygiene is a thing he has to do when Vernon stands, pausing the credits rolling through the screen in front of them. “Come on,” he says quickly, like if he goes any slower he’ll chicken out. “I want to show you something.”

Seungkwan stares at Vernon’s outstretched hand for a few seconds too long before taking it numbly, letting Vernon pull him off the couch and into his room. He sits on the edge of Vernon’s unmade bed and half-watches Vernon boot up his computer, clicking through a file bookmarked in the corner of his desktop screen. “I swear to God Vernon, if this is porn or something-”

“What?” The tips of Vernon’s ears turn red. “No. I want you to hear this.” He plugs his headphones into the headphone jack and slips them over Seungkwan’s ears, movements gentle but uncertain. Seungkwan stares up at him and feels like he’s trying to complete a jigsaw puzzle without any of the corner pieces.

But then Vernon is smiling hesitantly and turning away, clicking the ‘play’ button on what is very clearly an audio player, and then - oh. Oh.

Seungkwan’s world stills.

The first few notes of the song - Vernon’s song - roll through his ears, a light piano melody. Seungkwan is close to tears even before Vernon’s part starts, and then Vernon’s part starts, and it’s like he lost the fight before it even started

Vernon’s rapping voice is smooth, and just a little higher-pitched than his speaking one. His lyrics are all about life and love and losing someone who never really cared about you in the first place, and they dance on top of the instrumental track like he was born with the melody in his mind. Seungkwan thinks about the brightness in Seungcheol’s eyes that day and understands; understands the sadness, too, thinking about how closely Vernon hid this secret to his chest, close enough that even Seungkwan couldn’t reach it.

It takes the chorus, sung by a girl with a voice like sunshine in honey, to jolt him out of his trance and make him realize that there are tears on his cheeks, tracing down his face unbroken. Vernon has gone from glancing at him with apprehension to staring at him with unbridled concern, a hand coming up to brush away the tears threatening to drip from his jaw. Seungkwan leans into the touch, the rejection email forgotten as the last notes of the song fade away.

The first thing Vernon says when Seungkwan takes off his headphones is, “you hate it.”

“What?” Seungkwan sniffles, frowns at Vernon in a way he hopes conveys how ridiculous he finds that statement. “Don’t be stupid. I loved it, you idiot. Did you write this all yourself?”

Vernon grows shy at the praise, which is a weird thing for Vernon to be. Seungkwan kind of doesn’t know what to do when he explains, “just the lyrics. Jeonghan’s producer friend made the rest.”

“Jihoon?” Vernon nods. That makes sense; Jihoon is insanely talented and has a penchant for eloquent love songs.

“Yeah. He’s the reason the song’s that good, to be honest. My lyrics are kind of rusty.” The way Vernon phrases it sounds like he’s fishing for compliments, but Seungkwan knows Vernon doesn’t need compliments to know what he’s good at, most of the time. This, apparently, is an exception.

“Don’t be stupid,” Seungkwan repeats, nudging Vernon’s shoulder gently. “Your lyrics are really good, too, and I’m not just saying that because I secretly think it’s garbage and I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Like, you made me cry. I don’t just cry for anything, you know,” he adds, even though they both know that’s a blatant lie.

Vernon chuckles. “That’s true,” he plays along, and then, “sorry about that. Making you cry, I mean.” He brushes away one last errant tear and lets his hand drop back to his side. “Feel better now?”

“I guess,” Seungkwan allows. Vernon’s smile grows bigger, and so bright it’s a little hard to look at. “Have you sent these in to any stations?”

Vernon’s smile falters. “I’ve thought about it,” he says, looking down at his lap. Seungkwan reaches out to fix his hair, fingers lingering on the warm skin of Vernon’s temple, and Vernon moves his chair closer. “This sounds dumb but I’ve always wanted my music to, I don’t know, reach people? But I’m a chicken, so.”

“Yeah, you kind of are,” Seungkwan agrees teasingly, laughs when Vernon looks up at him, affronted. “You shouldn’t be afraid, though. It was really good. I wouldn’t be scared of anything if I were you.”

Vernon’s smile is soft, eyes pensive. Seungkwan’s hand stills against the side of his face. “Yeah?”

Seungkwan exhales. “Yeah.”

They smile at each other until the moment passes and Vernon gets all fidgety again, uncomfortable now that such an intimate part of him has been exposed. “So, um, that’s what I want out of life,” he concludes. “In case you were wondering. I’m sorry I was such a dick about it before.”

Seungkwan’s pretty sure it’s the other way around, but neither of them seem to be in much of a mood to argue. “That’s okay. Will you show me your other songs?”

Vernon laughs. “You’d hate them,” he advises. “I have a whole folder of stuff I wrote after ‘Panda’ came out.”

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose. “Gross,” he says, but grins anyways when Vernon pretends to be severely offended. He falls backwards onto Vernon’s bed with his arms spread out, staring up at Vernon’s popcorn ceiling with a sigh. “Can I sleep here?”

“You still have to do the dishes,” Vernon reminds him, kicking at his shin lightly. “I’d do them, but I made dinner, plus I just bared my soul to you, so. Also, you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet.”

Seungkwan groans in pain, rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself up into a kneeling position. “When did you become the bossy one?” he grouses. Vernon laughs at his plight.

--

Later, after the dishes have been washed and Seungkwan’s in his pajamas with damp hair and freshly brushed teeth, he pauses in front of his bedroom door. Weighs the pros and cons in his mind, and then does a quick U-turn towards Vernon’s room.

The door is slightly open when Seungkwan pushes at it - they’ve never had much to hide from each other. Vernon is lying on his bed with his head propped up on the pillows, one pajama-clad leg hanging over the edge, playing on his phone. He glances up when Seungkwan walks in and shifts over to the side a little.

They usually don’t sleep together - there’s no point, not when they’re paying for a two-bedroom and neither of their beds are particularly big. But sometimes when they’re marathoning a movie through the night or one of them is just feeling lonely, Seungkwan will wake up with his head on Vernon’s chest, ear pressed against Vernon’s heartbeat, legs jumbled together. He’ll shift around, arm numb, which will wake Vernon, who’ll laugh at his bedhead until he realizes how bad his morning breath is.

They’ve done it enough that Seungkwan knows what to expect when he climbs into bed, making himself comfortable before throwing a leg over Vernon’s. Vernon laughs, more of a puff of air than anything substantial, and shifts closer, attention still mostly fixed on his phone.

Seungkwan scrolls through social media until his eyes are sore and it’s a bit too close to midnight for comfort. He rolls over to look at Vernon, who’s still playing his game, blinking hard. “Go to sleep,” he scolds, reaching over and pressing pause. “You have work tomorrow. Also, you’re gonna go blind if you keep holding your phone so close to your face.”

Vernon huffs. “Okay, mom,” he says, but he turns his phone off and sets it on his nightstand obligingly. The nightlight clicks off a moment later, and darkness blankets the room, all-encompassing save for a sliver of moonlight peeking in through the blinds. Seungkwan can just make out Vernon’s face, angled towards him, smile hesitant. “Good night, Seungkwan,” he whispers.

“Good night,” Seungkwan says, reaching out and smoothing back an errant strand of hair at the side of Vernon’s face. He lets his hand linger there as he adds, a quiet afterthought in the night, “thank you, by the way. For showing me your music. I know it means a lot to you.”

“‘s not a big deal,” Vernon says, doing something that looks like a shrug. Seungkwan’s eyes haven’t fully adjusted yet. “Besides,” his voice goes quieter, “you mean a lot to me, too.”

Seungkwan laughs. There’s fondness settling in his chest as he shuffles closer to Vernon, draws the sheets around them tighter. Their feet press together under the blanket. Vernon’s are toes ice-cold, and normally Seungkwan would complain loudly but this doesn’t seem, by any means, like a normal night.

“There’s no one like you,” he settles for saying instead, sleep creeping into his voice. He blames the exhaustion for having caught him off-guard, forced him into a moment of vulnerability. Vernon seems to think so too, if the catch in his throat is any indication.

Just before sleep claims him, Seungkwan wonders mildly about the consequences had his eyes been adjusted to the dark throughout that whole exchange. If maybe he would’ve seen something on Vernon’s face besides a smile and a, “good night, Seungkwan,” something important enough to change everything.

--

At some point through the night, Seungkwan ends up tucked in the crook of Vernon’s shoulder, one arm thrown over his middle. At some other point later, Vernon slides out of bed and turns on the desk lamp, a muted red in Seungkwan’s eyelids. Seungkwan grumbles and shifts, but doesn’t say anything before falling back asleep.

--

Seungkwan wakes up to an empty room, stares up at the ceiling blearily until he’s forced to drag his heavy limbs off the bed and to the washroom to wash up. The washroom is empty, too; Seungkwan thinks he’s been abandoned, until faint clinking sounds start drifting over from the kitchen.

He finishes washing up and follows the sounds until he reaches their dining table. Vernon’s clearly been up for at least a half hour, if the cut fruit and french toast are any indication. Seungkwan, who at this point has gotten used to being the one to make breakfast, can only stand there and blink in confusion.

“Oh, you’re up,” Vernon says casually, carrying two glasses of milk to the table like he isn’t actively upending all sense of structure and routine in Seungkwan’s life. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says faintly, dragging one of the chairs out from the table with numb fingers. “How long have you been awake?”

Vernon stills his movements to squint up at the ceiling, contemplative. “A few hours? Not too bad.”

Seungkwan sighs, lets his worry push him past the confusion. This part, at least, is pretty familiar. “You always say that,” he reprimands, “and you’re always a zombie when you come home. Why didn’t you sleep last night? I specifically ordered you to.”

Vernon laughs, takes a seat across from Seungkwan and plucks an apple slice from the plate in front of him. The slices are unevenly cut - because Vernon never makes breakfast - and bumpy to suggest Vernon accidentally cut too close to the core, and had to pull the seeds out after. “Weak sleep cycle, remember?”

“Tragic,” Seungkwan mutters. He takes a bite of his French toast and tries not to choke. “These are undercooked,” he says. “The egg’s still runny.”

Vernon frowns. “Really?” He bites into his own toast, and gags.

“Really,” Seungkwan confirms dryly.

Vernon sighs in defeat, ripping off a chunk of toast and stuffing it into his mouth before pushing the rest of the plate away from him. “This is why I never make breakfast,” he admits.

“I’m glad you realized,” Seungkwan says. Then, because he can never be mean to Vernon for too long, “this is still nice, though. Better than I expected, at least.”

Vernon mulls this over before shrugging. “I’ll take that,” he says, and grins. They clink their glasses together in the dim morning light seeping through the half-drawn blinds. Seungkwan heads to work that day with a full heart.

--

Seungkwan comes home to find Vernon wiped out on the couch, and sighs.

“I told you so,” he says loudly. Vernon doesn’t answer - asleep, then. Still in his coat, dusted with snow from outside, Seungkwan grabs the blankets from Vernon’s room and dumps them onto Vernon’s slumbering body unceremoniously.

(He still takes the time to tuck Vernon in, make sure he’s not in danger of falling off the couch, because he’s gross and weak like that.)

He makes noodles for dinner, takes the time to wake Vernon and drag his half-dead, uncooperative body to the dining table. Vernon eats at the rate of paint drying, staring down at his bowl like he’s not quite sure how it works, head slumping forward periodically until he catches himself seconds before planting his face into his soup. Seungkwan holds his hand and laughs at him, takes pictures to send to their friends later.

After dinner, Seungkwan gives in to the kinder, more reasonable part of him and drags Vernon to Seungkwan’s bedroom, Vernon’s arm slung over his shoulders so he doesn’t fall over. He drops Vernon onto his bed and pulls the sheets over him. Vernon’s still fully dressed, but it’s not like he’s going to do anything about that - Seungkwan has seen him in various states of undress before, sure, but being the cause of said undress isn’t something he plans on being. “This is what happens when you don’t listen to me,” he scolds instead, and plants himself down in front of his computer to work on his fic.

He works uninterrupted for a good two hours before Vernon wakes, groaning loudly and rolling over on Seungkwan’s bed. “Why’s your bed comfier than mine?” he mumbles, hugging Seungkwan’s pillow.

Seungkwan scoffs. “We bought our mattresses together, idiot. You just think that because you’re dumb and sleep-deprived.”

“Not anymore.” Vernon yawns and makes grabby motions at Seungkwan from the edge of the bed, half of his face still buried in the pillow. Seungkwan sighs and reaches over to fold their fingers together, damning himself to typing one-handed.

“I thought you didn’t need to sleep anymore,” he says when Vernon is visibly drifting off again. “You still have to wash the dishes, freeloader.”

Vernon sighs. “In a minute,” he mumbles, voice scratchy with sleep. Seungkwan swallows very hard and squints at his laptop screen.

They fall into silence, broken only by the rhythmic clicking of Seungkwan’s fingers on the keyboard, significantly slower now that one hand is preoccupied with holding Vernon’s. Seungkwan is sure Vernon has fallen asleep until he glances over at him and is proven wrong; Vernon’s wide awake, actually, looking at Seungkwan through his messy hair with that intensity that throws Seungkwan off guard so often.

It’s not that Seungkwan doesn’t like it - far from that, actually. The knowledge that he can have Vernon’s full attention whenever he wants or needs it is comforting, warm in a familiar way. It’s the implications: the idea that Vernon doesn’t do this with any of his other friends, that this is somehow an exclusive Seungkwan-Vernon thing - that there even is such a phrase as ‘Seungkwan-Vernon thing’ - that scares him, a little.

Seungkwan doesn’t fear change, welcomes it even. But he’s always operated under a certainty that he knows where he and Vernon stand - it’s what’s gotten him through the turmoil of the post-graduation years, being able to lean on such a predictable relationship. So it’s understandable that the past few weeks, with all their tension and turbulence and you guys aren’t dating? has thrown Seungkwan off his rhythm. And that’s what scares him. A lot.

He comes back to reality. Vernon’s hair is falling into his face and he hasn’t moved, save for the patterns he’s tracing into Seungkwan’s knuckles. “Stop staring,” Seungkwan mumbles.

Vernon exhales. Then, very quietly, “Impossible.”

This is what Seungkwan is afraid of. Because despite all his self-proclaimed social eloquence, all his loud confidence and unabashed shamelessness, none of that could've prepared him for an intensely serious Vernon looking up at him, those words leaving his mouth; eyes half lidded with exhaustion, or something else.

And it’s that - the unknown - that stops him in his tracks. So he swallows hard, squeezes Vernon’s hand, and doesn't reply.

--

The weekend after that whole fiasco, Seungkwan drags Vernon out of the city to a lantern festival in the neighboring town. “We write our wishes on the lanterns and put them on the river so they get carried away,” Seungkwan explains on the train ride there, because the bus routes don’t come close to covering all the distance. “It’s supposed to be really beautiful.”

Vernon hums. “Isn’t that, like, pollution?” he muses.

Seungkwan elbows him. “Don’t ruin it,” he says, even though he’s been worrying about that too. “I’m pretty sure they bring them all back anyway.”

Vernon considers this for a moment before conceding, offering a shrug and leaning against the train window. They’re sharing a pair of earbuds, sitting close enough that their knees and shoulders touch; Seungkwan wonders, briefly, what Soonyoung would make of the situation before shutting down that line of thought.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to a message from Mingyu, a few lines of text with a cute animated emoji tacked onto the end. Seungkwan smiles from behind the scarf piled over the lower half of his face and types a reply.

The music playing into one of his ears does a weird thing, and he frowns and looks at Vernon. “This song is weird,” he says. “What group is this again?”

Vernon huffs a laugh. “Not a group,” he corrects quietly. “Do you want to change the song?”

Seungkwan kind of does, but he’d have to be blind to miss how Vernon has been mouthing along to every word so far. “I’m okay,” he says, “but we’re listening to Son Dambi after this.”

“Sure.” Vernon’s smile is soft against the white light coming in from the window, the snowy landscape rushing past outside. Seungkwan smiles back and lets Vernon lean on his shoulder for the rest of the ride.

--

The line to get into the festival is annoyingly long, but the rest of the evening goes smoothly. They’re handed paper and wooden frames for the lanterns, and a handful of colored markers to write with. There’s already a sizable crowd gathering along the shore of the river, so they find a spot slightly farther away on a damp picnic table to set up their stuff. Seungkwan laments not bringing snacks; Vernon points out the ring of food trucks that have set up shop nearby; Seungkwan leaves Vernon to guard their things and buys corn dogs and watery hot chocolate, which Vernon accepts with gratitude.

They have an hour to spare before everyone has to release their lanterns, half of which they spend eating and talking until Seungkwan grows aware of the time and forces the both of them to get to work.

They make one together. Seungkwan draws little flowers and curling vines and Vernon, for his part, draws what seems like drunk renditions of the latest Spongebob memes. Seungkwan yells at him for ruining the aesthetic and threatens to set the lantern on fire, but ends up keeping it when Vernon makes dumb pouty faces at him.

They work in silence after that, each on their own lantern, Seungkwan’s earbuds dangling between them. Vernon has the latest NCT album on full blast, humming along to the hooks as he writes on his lantern in black Sharpie. Seungkwan spends an inordinate amount of time looking at the strands of Vernon’s hair that get caught in the wind while writing his wishes on his own lantern, lucky enough to have grabbed the last gold Sharpie in the bucket.

The bell for the lantern release rings just as Seungkwan is penning his last letter, loud enough to make him jump and just barely avoid scribbling on his lantern by accident. Next to him, Vernon is already getting up, one lantern in each hand. “What’d you write?” he asks as Seungkwan joins him.

Seungkwan glares. “You’re not supposed to tell,” he says, “or the wishes won’t come true. Common sense, Vernon.”

Vernon laughs, leaning over so Seungkwan can tug the earbuds out of both their ears and tuck them into his back pocket as they make their way to the riverbank. “Sorry, sorry,” he concedes, smiling. “I won’t ask again.”

Seungkwan huffs. “You better,” he mutters, and convinces himself that the warmth in his ears is entirely due to the crowd that’s swallowed them up.

They manage to squeeze their way through the people and reach the edge of the riverbank, where a bunch of volunteers are standing with candles to put in their lanterns. “This is pretty lit,” Vernon jokes appreciatively, which earns him an elbow to the ribs for his trouble.

The river, which is dark enough to look infinite in the night, is lapping gently at the shore when they find a good place to set off their lanterns. Vernon kneels and sets off the lantern with the dumb Spongebob memes and Seungkwan’s painstakingly drawn flowers first, cheers quietly as the tides carry it down the river, candlelight rippling against the waves. “This is really nice,” he confesses, leaning close to Seungkwan’s ear so he can be heard over the dull roar of the crowd around them. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“I know, I’m the best,” Seungkwan agrees, means something like I wouldn’t have it any other way. Vernon laughs, because he understands.

They set off their own lanterns at the same time, counting down quietly and high-fiving as the lanterns drift away from the shore. “Apparently if they get far away enough they end up looking like stars,” Seungkwan explains, remembering what he’d read on the website. “That’s how you know your wishes are going to come true.”

“I hope they do,” Vernon says. They stand on the shore for a few moments longer, watching the glows of their lanterns get farther and farther away - standing close, knuckles brushing at their sides, shoulders bumping. Close enough to matter. Seungkwan thinks about all the wishes he’d written and sent off, the ones about his friends and family and future, even one about who should win the Mnet awards this year, penned in gold and glowing with candlelight. About the one wish he’d stolen Vernon’s black Sharpie to write, just for the sentiment of it all.

It goes something like: Vernon, forever.

They don’t stay long enough to see their lanterns become stars, which Seungkwan is surprisingly okay with. After all, he thinks on the train ride home with Vernon snoring softly on his shoulder, he’s already holding the stars in the palm of his hand, possibilities gleaming endlessly. He just needs to make them come true, is all.

--

Christmas passes rather uneventfully; Vernon visits his family, and Seungkwan goes out with his friends and calls his family back home in Jeju and tries not to cry too much when he realizes how long it's been since he last saw them. On Christmas morning, Vernon sends a picture of himself in the quintessential ugly Christmas sweater, standing next to his sister with matching looks of mild despair, which brightens Seungkwan’s mood considerably.

Vernon promises to come back for New Year’s, but can’t make it because of the weather and the distance. Seungkwan goes to a party at Joshua’s house to fill the gap. It’s a gross adult party where the only form of alcohol is weirdly flat champagne, and the snacks are fruit slices and mini sandwiches. Which Seungkwan should’ve expected, honestly - Joshua is an elementary school music teacher, for heaven’s sake. He played guitar in his church’s youth band in LA.

Seungkwan likes him well enough to go, though, and after Joshua has made the rounds with the other guests - all colleagues, presumably, judging from their brightly patterned clothing and shiny smiles - they sit in the kitchen making sandwiches for everyone and bonding over not being able to visit their families for the holidays. In the end, he’s one of the last to leave, and Joshua sees him out the door with a kind smile and a small gift bag. Seungkwan makes a mental note to text him more often.

The day after the party, Seungkwan is watching TV with a bowl of instant noodles balanced on his stomach when he hears the sound of a key turning in the front door. He moves the bowl so quickly some of the soup sloshes over and sinks into the fabric of his shirt, which under normal circumstances would be categorized as a day-ruining moment. These aren’t by any means normal circumstances, though, and the stain spreading on his white T-shirt is shoved to the back of his mind as he scrambles off the couch and rushes to the door just as Vernon steps through it.

“Why didn’t you call?” Seungkwan all but shouts, throwing his arms around Vernon without preamble. Vernon laughs in surprise and wraps his arms around Seungkwan’s middle. It’s a sound Seungkwan has gotten used to hearing through tinny video calls and shitty phone connections; hearing it right next to his ear, warm and real and close, floods him with an emotion he can’t quite decipher. “I was so lonely.”

“I’m sorry,” Vernon says, breath fanning out against the side of his neck. They rock back and forth on the welcome mat for a few moments before Seungkwan reluctantly lets go, grabbing Vernon’s suitcases and dragging them further into the apartment. “I tried to take public transit, but my parents wouldn’t let me,” Vernon explains. “Something about losing their first-born child, I think.”

Seungkwan huffs. “So unreasonable,” he says. Vernon is just standing there in front of the door, so Seungkwan grabs his hand and drags him closer to inspect his face. “Did you eat a lot?” he asks critically, smoothing down Vernon’s hair.

Vernon’s eyes gleam as he smiles. “I did,” he assures. “How was New Year’s?”

He already knows the answer - Seungkwan texted him with a point-by-point retelling of Joshua’s party the second he’d gotten home. But Seungkwan tells him anyways: “It was good. I missed Joshua a lot. I didn’t realize until I saw him again.”

Vernon hums, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up. “He’s doing okay?”

“Great, as far as I can tell.” Vernon has always been close to Joshua, ever since his first year of uni; he admires the elder a lot, his kindness and quiet wisdom. Seungkwan only got to know Joshua because the latter spent so much time at their apartment, before he got the offer for his current job and had to move too far for visiting to be convenient.

The move had taken a toll on Vernon, who spent the week afterwards dragging his feet around the apartment and video-calling Joshua daily. Seungkwan remembers the day he’d gotten sick of seeing him so down - he’d dragged him out to a small family-owned restaurant, got him to smile over sizzling meat and endless side dishes, and then they went to a dog park after. That was the first time they’d actively hung out outside of their apartment.

Vernon hums, and the sound drags Seungkwan back to reality. Vernon’s got a look in his eye like he knows exactly what Seungkwan was thinking about as he says, “I should go visit him soon.”

“He’d like that,” Seungkwan agrees. Vernon trails behind him as he wheels his suitcases to his room. “He asked about you a lot. It was kind of annoying, to be honest.”

Vernon grins. “Sorry you had to do that.” He glances down at Seungkwan’s shirt and frowns. “There’s a stain on your shirt.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Seungkwan had almost forgotten about that. “I spilled soup on myself. You want some? There’s a bit left in the pot.”

Vernon looks worried. “You didn’t burn yourself?”

“I don’t think so.” Seungkwan tugs his shirt up to inspect the skin underneath, which is blemish-free. “See? I’m fine. Have you eaten yet?”

Vernon doesn’t answer, the tips of his ears turning red under his hair and eyes fixed on something below Seungkwan’s line of sight. When Seungkwan repeats the question, he swallows hard and says, “Uh, no, I haven’t.”

“You can finish the noodles I made, then,” Seungkwan concludes, choosing to ignore Vernon’s strange behaviour in favor of tugging him out of his room and in front of the TV, pushing him onto the couch and heading to the kitchen.

When he comes back Vernon’s already pressed play on the show he'd been watching, which would've annoyed Seungkwan had he not seen the episode already. “It’s hot,” he scolds when Vernon reaches out to take the bowl, setting it carefully on the tea table instead. “Common sense, Vernon.”

Vernon smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.” He slings his arm over Seungkwan’s shoulders when he sits down, pulling him close. “I missed you,” he says quietly, in the middle of a particularly drawn-out laugh track.

Seungkwan laughs. “I know.”

Means: I missed you too .

--

On Seungkwan’s birthday, he invites all of his and Vernon’s mutual university friends, his coworkers, and Vernon’s coworkers, too, just for good measure. The thirteen of them get together at Jeonghan’s apartment, which is the only one big enough to fit all of them and was graciously donated after multiple assurances that Seungcheol would be there. Seungkwan and Vernon arrive first to decorate; Jeonghan lounges on the couch and offers mild encouragements every so often, with the same laziness he’d trademarked in his university years.

Soonyoung, Chan and Jun arrive together along with Minghao, the other part-timer who’s Chinese and has big eyes and a soft voice that is capable of dragging anyone through the dirt. Soonyoung greets Vernon with just as much excitement as the first time, and Vernon for his part accepts Soonyoung’s hug more steadily than before. Seungkwan hugs Jun, pinches Chan’s cheeks, returns Minghao’s dab and then shows them where to put their gifts.

Seungcheol, Wonwoo and Mingyu arrive after; Mingyu smiles and waves brightly when he sees Seungkwan, and goes in for a hug that Seungkwan accepts with a blush that he blames on the temperature in the apartment. Seungcheol - who tripped over nothing the second Jeonghan rounded the corner - and Wonwoo give Seungkwan high fives and disappear to pester Vernon.

The rest of the guests trickle in one-by-one after that; first is Jihoon, who nods at Vernon and only mildly threatens murder when Seungkwan throws his arms around him, and then Seokmin, who shouts so loudly he draws Soonyoung in from the kitchen, which starts a weird impromptu rap battle that Seungkwan quickly escapes.

Joshua arrives last, tired from the long drive, eyes brightening when Vernon rushes towards him. Seungkwan watches their reunion with a warm heart, and goes back to his other friends.

The first half of the party is pretty run-of-the-mill; they sing karaoke and order pizza and start a dangerously competitive Mario Kart tournament, of which Seungkwan is declared automatic winner through his birthday-boy rights. Then they sing happy birthday and cut the cake - mint chocolate ice cream, Seungkwan’s favorite.

Seungkwan blows out the candles surrounded by his friends. He wishes everyone around him happy lives and that he’d have the courage to seek out his own happiness, too, no matter how many dumb rejection emails stand in his way. Then they all sit in the living room as Seungkwan opens presents, tearing up more often than he’d like to admit and accidentally starting another rap battle in the process.

It’s getting dark when Seungkwan reaches the last present. The three distinct groups of people have merged together at this point - Seungcheol and Jeonghan are blatantly flirting, Soonyoung is doing girl-group dances with Seokmin and threatening to fistfight Wonwoo, Mingyu is arguing over the Powerpuff Girls with Minghao and Junhui, and Jihoon and Chan are showing their memes to a slightly scandalized Joshua. “Who’s left?” Seungkwan says over the commotion, pretending to look annoyed to cover up the fact that the sight of all his friends integrating is making him tear up again.

At his question, everyone in the circle turns to where Vernon is getting to his feet, holding his phone in his hand. “Seungcheol, Wonwoo and Mingyu helped,” he explains, tugging nervously at his sweater. It’s a weird sight on someone like Vernon, who has always been so unassumingly confident. “And Jihoon’s friend. But I wrote most of it. For you,” he tacks on. “As a birthday gift.”

The room quiets. “Oh,” Seungkwan says, the gravity of Vernon’s gift hitting him like a punch between the ribs. Vernon can’t seem to look him in the eye.

Vernon wrote a song. For him. He’s showing his music, which he has kept impossibly close to him for God knows how long, in front of all of their friends for the first time for Seungkwan. Vernon wrote a song for him.

Seungkwan thinks he might faint.

The feeling increases when Jeonghan connects Vernon’s phone to the TV and the song starts. It’s Wonwoo who opens, judging from the pitch, and the instrumental track is all smooth synth and subdued percussion, blending nicely with Mingyu’s voice - the sound of which Seungkwan tries not to die too hard over.

Then Vernon starts singing, and Seungkwan forgets everything he’d been thinking about before.

He’s never actually heard Vernon’s singing before; it sounds a lot like Wonwoo’s, actually, at least pitch-wise. But he hears the notes and remembers Vernon’s laugh and he just knows .

Then he's hit by a wave of emotion, eyes watering so rapidly his vision goes blurry. Lean on me, lean on me, lean on me, Vernon sings, echoed by Seungcheol, and then Vernon’s rapping and Seungkwan bursts into tears.

He covers his mouth to muffle the sound, listening as closely as he can as Vernon’s voice dances over the lilting brass in the background, talking about dreams and having strength and wherever you are, I will follow you. He’s shaking when Mingyu starts singing again, and then Wonwoo, and everything is let’s hold hands and when life wears you out, come to me and you’re my answer and Vernon wrote that for him. He wrote a song that feels like warmth and sings in a voice that sounds like home and is showing all of it in front of thirteen people, four of which are near-strangers, for Seungkwan.

The song is over too soon. By the time the last note is fading out Seungkwan’s shoulders are heaving with barely-contained sobs, and there’s at least five different people holding the hand that’s not covering his mouth, a few more patting his shoulders. He pushes them all aside gently and gets up, crosses the room to where Vernon is standing, and buries his face in his shoulder.

Vernon makes a sound of surprise and then laughs, wrapping his arms around Seungkwan’s waist and rubbing circles into his back. Seungkwan just stands there and cries, soaking Vernon’s sweater, mumbles incoherent things about I hate you and that was beautiful and you can never leave me, ever.

“I know,” Vernon says quietly. He pulls away from Seungkwan just enough so that he can look at him, scrunches his face up in an imitation of Seungkwan’s crying face and wipes at the wetness underneath Seungkwan’s eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I can’t believe you wrote that for me,” Seungkwan sniffs. Vernon laughs and cups the side of his face with a warm hand, leans forward so their foreheads touch; still keeping one arm around Seungkwan’s waist, holding him close.

“It was the least I could do,” he says. He catches a tear that drips off Seungkwan’s jaw. “I’m glad you liked it.”

There’s no one like you , Seungkwan thinks, and hiccups because he’s gross when he cries.

It’s just loud enough to make him very suddenly and very acutely aware of the silence around them - more specifically, the silence of his friends, who have stayed wordless throughout the whole exchange. Seungkwan pulls away from Vernon - more reluctantly than he’d like to admit - and looks over at them. He's met with expressions varying from fondness to disgust.

“Sorry,” he says, and clears his throat. Next to him, Vernon looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Smash tournament, anyone?”

“You’re gross,” Jihoon mutters, breaking the silence. It’s enough for everyone to laugh away the heaviness of the moment and turn to the TV, which Minghao has already connected to Jeonghan’s Wii. Seungkwan exchanges a look with Vernon before they both return to their friends, clamoring to get first dibs on a remote.

--

The party doesn’t last much longer after the Smash tournament, because it’s a Sunday evening and they’re all reasonable adults with jobs the next morning. Seungkwan shoves all of his gifts into the trunk of Joshua’s car and they drive home, Vernon chatting amicably with Joshua in the front seat while Seungkwan scrolls through job openings on his phone in the back.

The rejection from Pledis had hit him harder than he’d like to admit. Back in school, it was easy for him to get what he wanted - a lead role in the school musical, head of the student choir at uni, communications staff in student council - which only served to make him unreasonably confident in his own abilities, in the ability of the world to bend to his wishes. So when he’d graduated university and had to read through rejection email after rejection email before settling for a job that he was definitely overqualified for, it came as a major hit to the way he viewed life, a hit he took months to recover from.

And after, when he’d managed to piece himself back together, it was with a newly acquired fear of taking chances, of putting himself out there just to get struck back down to his place. The application to Pledis had been on a whim, on a ‘why-not’ sentiment more than anything, but some part of him still had the gall to get his hopes up; enough of him, in fact, that when that all-too-familiar email came he felt gutted. How could he have been so stupid to think he could achieve more?

But that was back then. Now, Vernon’s song is ringing in his ears as he unlocks the door to their apartment, arms laden with gifts from friends who love him enough to put time and effort into showing it. Now, he thinks about lean on me, lean on me, lean on me and lanterns drifting into the horizon as he sits at his desk, finger hovering over his mouse, cursor pointed at the send resume button on the application website to a new tech company.

He thinks about Vernon, and about dreams, and clicks send .

--

Seungkwan gets the job.

--

kwan: mingyu guess what!!!!!

gyu: ??? what???

kwan: i got a job offer!!!!

gyu: !!! congrats!! where??

kwan: it’s this place called SVT inc

kwan: new tech company

kwan: media communications manager :)))))

gyu: :0 that’s so cool

kwan: :) i know

kwan is typing…

kwan: i’ve been thinking

gyu: dangerous hobby seungkwan

kwan: i know mingyu

kwan: i live life on the edge

kwan: anyways

kwan: do u maybe wanna go on a date sometime?? next week??

gyu is typing…

gyu: i’d love to :))))))

gyu: next friday? i’ll pick u up from work and we can find someplace to eat

kwan: sounds great :)

--

On his last day of work, Soonyoung, Chan, Minghao and Jun throw him a mini going-away party after closing, when the tables and counters have been wiped down and all the machines are off. Jun buys helium balloons, Soonyoung gets the stale pastries from the display case and Chan brings his portable speaker so they can blast girl group songs. Seungkwan eats way too many lopsided cake pops and inhales helium until he goes lightheaded, and they do high-pitched covers of American rap songs until everyone is on the ground struggling to breathe from laughter.

At the end, when the sky is an inky black and the snow on the sidewalks glow white, Seungkwan is struck with missing and cries for the second time in a week, sitting on the floor of the café that has been his second home for years and surrounded by people who are almost family. They exchange Skype information to make a group chat, and Jun breaks out his aesthetic Polaroid camera so they can take photos in the dim lighting of the café. Seungkwan’s face is puffy from crying, and they’re all making various weird and unflattering faces, but everyone signs their names on the back and Seungkwan tucks it into his wallet for safekeeping, holding it close to him on the way home.

He’s in the elevator on the way up to his floor when his phone pings with a notification.

moon(jun) cafe & tea

moonjun: [photo attached]

8sa: ew no one wants to see your porn memes

Seungkwan laughs, types a reply, and tucks his phone back into his pocket. His thumb traces the edge of his wallet, the photo tucked inside, and he steps off the elevator, grateful for all that he’s leaving behind.

--

On the first day at his new job, he finds himself standing in the bathroom an hour earlier than he’s used to, splashing ice-cold water on his face to force himself awake. His tie is already rumpled and there’s a small water stain on the edge of his sleeve; he’s forgotten how real business attire works after years of wearing sweaters and jeans to work. His breath smells awful and he doesn’t have time to shower if he doesn’t want to be late, and there’s a little sadness with the realization that Vernon is still asleep, will only trudge out of his room long after Seungkwan has left. He’s gotten used to seeing Vernon in the mornings, an extra dose of energy to go with his coffee.

But overpowering all this is pure excitement at the idea of finally having a job with a future, a stepping stone towards the career he wants. It flutters in his stomach and makes him hum as he brushes his teeth, running a comb through his hair with the other hand.

The door creaks open mid-high-note. “It’s so early,” Vernon mumbles, leaning against the doorframe, voice raspy in his throat. “We have to do this every morning?”

Seungkwan rinses the toothpaste out of his mouth before answering. “‘We’?”

“I don’t want you to deal with mornings alone,” Vernon explains, stepping closer and inspecting Seungkwan’s shirt. “You didn’t button your collar properly.”

Something tightens in Seungkwan’s chest as Vernon undoes the damage with deft fingers, eyes trained somewhere below his collarbone as he buttons his shirt up properly. His touch sends jolts of heat sparking through Seungkwan’s skin - probably a side-effect of first-day nerves, Seungkwan thinks, as he reaches up to push Vernon’s hair away from his face. “You don’t have to do this,” he says. “You don’t even have to be up for another hour.”

Vernon shrugs. “I can just go back to sleep later,” he says, as if Seungkwan isn’t intimately familiar with his sleep cycle. “Seriously. Aren’t you nervous?”

For a second, Seungkwan considers going for the over-dramatic comedic route, but he takes one look at Vernon’s soft eyes and wrinkled T-shirt and decides to be weak and genuine instead. “A little,” he admits. “You being here makes it better, though.”

Vernon laughs, a quiet puff of air in the chill of the early morning. “I know.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes and shoves at Vernon’s shoulder. “Jerk,” he says, but smiles anyway.

He listens to the song Vernon wrote for him on his way to work.

--

The job is - it’s hard. Maybe not so much in the grand scheme of things, but compared to Seungkwan’s stint at Moon Cafe & Tea it’s pretty effective at being the bucket of cold water that wakes him up from his pleasant coffee shop dream.

He goes through training with a decent amount of energy, taking notes and asking questions. “You’ll be overseeing this quadrant,” his manager tells him, a tired-looking middle-aged woman with wispy hair dyed red and pulled back to reveal dull silver earrings. Seungkwan wonders if that’ll be him in a few years as she continues, “just make sure all employees are following these standards and that all the stuff is working. Report to me by the end of the day or if there’s anything going on that you can’t deal with. I expect ten-page reports on all projects at the end of each week. There are templates in the folder on your desk.”

Seungkwan smiles, taking the clipboard she holds out to him and bowing. “I’ll do my best,” he says.

She pauses to scrutinize him for a few seconds, at his dyed hair and small stud earrings. Something in his expression must convince her, because she nods, expression softening into something almost like a smile as she wishes him luck and leaves.

Seungkwan watches her go, heels clicking on the tile, and turns around to start working.

And he does do his best. The problem is that his best doesn’t seem to be enough - there’s always something going on in the area of office space he’s in charge of. He works on his report in between resolving water cooler disputes and giving mini impromptu speeches on not stereotyping non-Eastern Asians, but every time his manager drops by she always finds some flaw in his formatting or content or syntax that’ll require him to pretty much redo the entire thing. To make matters worse, he doesn’t have the leverage of being a long-time employee that he had in his previous job; it’s clear the people he’s supposed to be overseeing don’t trust or respect him, this new guy with a baby face and nearly zero work experience.

He commutes a route that he isn’t familiar with to arrive home just past dinner time, inevitably shoving all dinner-making duties onto Vernon. He still makes breakfast, packs lunches for the both of them, but he oversleeps more often than not from the change in schedule and the quality of his food suffers as a result.

He can tell Vernon is a little unhappy, when he falls asleep during Friday movie nights and barely has the energy to do the regular chores on the weekend, when he can’t pay attention to the records Vernon brings home or the clothes scattered around the bathroom floor or Vernon, in general, all the habits and signs he used to consider himself an expert in noticing. Their weekend not-dates are put on hiatus indefinitely as Seungkwan takes all the time he can to catch up on the paperwork his manager throws his way, spending what meager spare time he has working on his story.

Vernon, for his part, is being patient about the whole thing, doing his best to conceal his discomfort at the sudden lack of Seungkwan in their supposedly shared life; he’s a good person, after all, and Seungkwan has always admired him for his patience and resilience.

But Seungkwan himself is terrified. He’d gotten used to having a certain amount of Vernon in his life, relied on it as a major part of his schedule more than a morning coffee or a bi-weekly paycheck, and having that part taken away brings a sort of hollow feeling to the space between his ribs, on top of the guilt at not being there for Vernon like he used to be. He’s glad he finally has a job with a foreseeable future, but he’s not sure it’s worth what he’s sacrificing, especially when he wakes up at noon on Saturdays to see that Vernon has already done all the chores - especially when Vernon is clearly tired, too, shuffling through his day with sluggish movements and half-lidded eyes.

About a month into the job and at the cusp of finally adjusting to his new life, the exhaustion gets to him all at once and he doesn’t hand in his report on time. “You’ll have to stay overtime, then,” his manager tells him. “On the weekend or after hours today, it’s your choice.”

She leaves. Around Seungkwan, all the other employees are tidying up, making Friday night plans to go out or stay in or just crash on the couch immediately. Seungkwan wants desperately to join them, thinks that working a few hours the next day is infinitely more bearable than staying until the hallway lights have turned off and he only has the janitors for company. He almost grabs his coat, too, half-out of his chair before he remembers.

Remembers the pile of records he hasn’t had the energy to really listen to, the conversations over brunch, the laundry-folding sessions that sometimes devolve into pillow fights. Remembers that no matter how tired he is then, no matter how much he sleeps in - weekends are for the rest of his life, the part he shares with Vernon.

He sits back down and re-opens the document containing his latest, unfinished report, picking up his phone with another hand and sending a quick text.

seungkwan~: vernonie i’m gonna be late don’t wait for me

He squints at the screen, ignoring the ache in his shoulders, and gets back to work.

--

At around 10pm, Seungkwan prints out his report and leaves it on his manager’s desk. At 10:10 pm, he leaves the building, waving to the janitor in the lobby. At 10:15 pm, he boards the bus home, plugs his earbuds in and leans against the window, Vernon’s voice filling the night and lifting the ache in his bones.

--

Seungkwan gets home at 10:55 pm to a darkened apartment, the small lamp in the living room serving as the only light source. He’s pretty sure Vernon’s asleep at this point, so he takes his shoes off as quietly as possible, hanging his coat and bag up before tiptoeing to the washroom to wash up.

“It’s almost eleven, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan startles at the voice coming from the couch, clapping a hand over his mouth before he can curse. “Don’t do that,” he whispers fiercely at Vernon, who’s getting off the couch and making his way over. “I thought you were a ghost or something.”

Vernon shakes his head, stopping a foot away from Seungkwan. He’s wearing a sweater and pajama pants; it occurs to Seungkwan that he’s been waiting for him all this time, in their darkened apartment with probably only his phone for entertainment - he gets bored easily, watching TV alone.

Without Seungkwan. Because Seungkwan has been so focused on his job, he’d nearly abandoned their weekends just to get a little more sleep. “Why do you do this to yourself?” Vernon asks, and he sounds so tired, expression unreadable as he stands farther away from Seungkwan than he has in ages.

Seungkwan doesn’t really know what to say to that - knows, instead, that whatever he says won’t ring deep enough for Vernon to be satisfied, because they’ve never sought out the same paths in life. “I’m sorry,” he says instead, shoulders slumping. “I had to finish a report for my manager and-”

Vernon shakes his head again. “Why do you try so hard for this job, Seungkwan?” His voice sounds like crumpled paper around Seungkwan’s name, and he is standing so, so far away. “When it treats you like garbage?”

Seungkwan can’t answer that, either, can’t even deny it. He can only say things that don’t mean anything, like “it was either this or going in on the weekend, and I can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s almost midnight , the weekend would’ve been better-”

“Because,” there are buildings balancing on his eyelids and a sway to the ground like he can’t hold himself upright, and anything like a filter between his brain and his mouth is completely broken, “weekends are for you.”

Even in his half-asleep state he catches the way Vernon’s eyes widen with something a little more intense than shock, a little like what he’d almost seen that night in Vernon’s bed. Seungkwan doesn’t get to see anything else, though, because it’s then that his mind blanks out with exhaustion and he sways forward precariously, coming dangerously close to toppling over before Vernon is there at his side.

“Careful,” Vernon mutters, catching him by the shoulders and helping him stand upright again. Seungkwan rubs at his eyes and yawns, wide enough to make him tear up a little, and lets his head droop downwards. Vernon wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him to the bathroom.

Seungkwan is a little annoyed at the detour. “Gross, let me sleep,” he mumbles, tipping sideways until his head hits somewhere along Vernon’s collarbone. He wraps his arms around Vernon’s shoulders and whines into Vernon’s ear, leaning his weight forward. “Oral hygiene is overrated.”

Vernon swallows, loud enough for Seungkwan to hear, and then he’s lifting Seungkwan up so he can sit on the counter, legs dangling over the edge. Seungkwan lets go of Vernon and slumps against the nearby wall, blinking blearily as Vernon puts toothpaste on his toothbrush.

“Brush your teeth,” Vernon instructs quietly, handing Seungkwan the toothbrush, “and then you can sleep.” When Seungkwan just glares down at the toothbrush in his hand, he adds, “you’ll thank me in the morning.”

Seungkwan huffs. “Morning is irrelevant,” he says, but he obliges anyway, because the irritatingly reasonable part of his brain is telling him Vernon’s right. He brushes his teeth while Vernon fills up his cup so he can rinse his mouth. He spits the water out into the sink, and nearly falls over in the process.

“I’m starting to think you’re drunk,” Vernon mutters, holding out a hand to help Seungkwan down from the counter. When Seungkwan, kind of reluctant to use any force in his legs, makes grabby hands at his shoulders, he sighs and says, “now I really think you’re drunk.”

“Walking is gross,” Seungkwan says with conviction. He’s starting to think he’s a little drunk too, especially when Vernon steps closer to the edge of the counter and hooks a hand under each of his knees to hoist him up. He wraps his legs around Vernon’s waist and his arms around Vernon’s shoulders and giggles when Vernon grunts and stumbles backwards. “Hey, that’s rude.”

“You’re heavy,” Vernon defends, but lets Seungkwan laugh into his shoulder as he carries him into his room and drops him onto his unmade bed. The lights are off and the  blinds aren’t even drawn, but Seungkwan pays no attention as he revels in the feeling of his own bed, wrapping the sheets around himself without preamble. He closes his eyes, but can still feel Vernon’s presence in the room; can almost picture, with comedic accuracy, Vernon standing over him with his hands on his hips and a furrow between his eyebrows.

There’s a little bit of silence, and then Vernon sighs. “Good night, Seungkwan,” he says quietly. And then the door’s closing, and then sleep crashes in, knocking Seungkwan out in the blink of an eye.

--

Seungkwan wakes up an hour before noon. He spends the hour on his phone before the weird guilt of not doing anything with his life pushes him out of bed and out of his room, trudging to the washroom to wash up so he’s not gross when he makes lunch.

He makes a nice chicken Caesar salad with the leftover lettuce in their fridge, whistling quietly as he does. The blinds have all been opened but the apartment’s silent; there’s no indication of Vernon’s presence whatsoever. It’s a little weird, but Seungkwan’s hungry, so he doesn’t pay much attention as he finishes making lunch.

He’s setting the table for two when the door opens and Vernon steps in, cheeks pink from the cold, carrying two bags from the convenience store. “You’re awake,” he says, surprised. Seungkwan feels a tug of guilt at the realization that this is the most proactive he’s been in weeks. He lifts a bag. “I got cheese puffs.”

The guilt grows sharper; there’s an edge of it digging into Seungkwan’s chest as he smiles and crosses the apartment to press his palms against Vernon’s cold cheeks, squishing his face comically. He loves cheese puffs, and Vernon made the effort to get them even though he hasn’t been around for weeks. “I made lunch,” he says. Then, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. You’re right, work treats me like garbage.”

The corners of Vernon’s mouth tug upwards as he takes off his shoes and coat. “As long as you think it’s worth it, I’m okay,” he says. The words kick up a storm in Seungkwan’s stomach, butterflies that feel a lot like fondness and appreciation and something a little more dangerous. “Do you take suggestions for your story?”

“What?” Seungkwan remembers his fanfiction. “Oh, yeah. Do you have anything in mind?”

Vernon’s smile is soft as he lets Seungkwan take one of the bags he’s holding, freeing his hand so he can tug him over to the kitchen. “I wanna take you outdoor skating,” he says.

Seungkwan pauses. In his stomach, the butterflies die a quick and painful death. “Absolutely not.”

He cannot skate. Last time he was convinced to go, his ass made contact with the ice more often than his skates did, while Vernon laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. “I’ll actually teach you this time,” Vernon promises, grinning something less soft and more shit-eating.

“That’s what you said last time,” Seungkwan reminds him accusingly. “And then you abandoned me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vernon says innocently. Seungkwan glares, and lets go of his hand to smack him upside the head. “I’ll hold your hand, I swear!”

Seungkwan attempts to drill through Vernon’s skull with his eyes to no avail, and relents reluctantly after a few minutes of silent eye contact. Vernon’s smiling that smile. Seungkwan is getting weak. “Fine,” he allows, and turns away before Vernon’s smile gets too bright.

--

Vernon actually does keeps his promise. They eat dinner at a family-owned restaurant near their apartment and then walk down to the rink, which is in the middle of this small, sparse forest. It’s just a circular track of ice wrapped around a grove of trees with lights strung up in their branches; the washrooms are a converted mobile home and there’s a small shack where they rent skates from a bored-looking teenage girl, these scratched-up leather things that still manage to gleam in the light. Vernon helps Seungkwan lace up his skates and lets Seungkwan lean on him as they cross the short distance from the benches to the rink.

Skating is still terrifying - ice alone is unbelievably dangerous and life-threatening, and the addition of standing on thin pieces of metal elevates it to a whole other dimension of constant near-death. Seungkwan shouts and wobbles and loses his balance, and Vernon laughs at his plight but keeps a steady hand on his arm the entire time.

By the end of it, Seungkwan’s toes have converted to tiny ice cubes but he can sort of skate on his own, in small shuffling movements that let him glide an inch at a time. Vernon claps at his progress and buys them both hot chocolate for the walk home, candy cane-flavored with marshmallows and sprinkles.

At home, Seungkwan makes more, considerably worse hot chocolate, and they sit on the couch and try for the fifteenth time to get all the way through Interstellar without getting distracted or falling asleep. Vernon sits in the corner of the couch and Seungkwan lies down with his head in his lap and his feet propped up on the armrest, balancing his mug of hot chocolate on his stomach so he can reach up and play with Vernon’s hair.

They don’t even make it halfway. Seungkwan wakes up on Sunday morning in the same position they’d been in the night before, Vernon slumped over and snoring lightly above him, one arm thrown over Seungkwan’s chest. Seungkwan marvels at Vernon’s visual prowess before remembering that Vernon fell asleep with contacts in and wakes him up so he can take them out.

Seungkwan lies on the couch staring up at the ceiling until Vernon returns with his glasses on, these Where’s Waldo-esque round frames that always slip down his nose. Seungkwan pushes them back up and drags Vernon to the washroom to brush their teeth, laughing over their failed sixteenth Interstellar attempt.

A little while after, Seungkwan wipes a smudge of toothpaste off the corner of Vernon’s mouth, wrinkling his nose and complaining about how messy he is, and Vernon laughs because he knows Seungkwan doesn’t really mean it. Knows a lot of things about Seungkwan, if he’s being honest.

Seungkwan pushes Vernon’s glasses back up his nose, and thinks about how much he would give up just for this.

--

After that weekend, Seungkwan adjusts to the new job slowly but surely. He figures out how to write reports that his manager won't immediately fire him for; his body comes to terms with the new sleep schedule; his coworkers have started greeting him in the morning and saying goodbye to him when they clock out at night; he gets his energy and time back, and comes home early enough to get dinner started four days out of ten.

At the end of a particularly productive week, his manager looks up from her computer as he’s dropping the report off at her desk and smiles. “You’re doing well,” she tells him. “You’ve adjusted faster than any new employee I’ve seen. Keep going and you’ll be making a career out of this in no time.”

The words are exactly what he never knew he needed to hear. A weight lifts off his shoulders, and Seungkwan can’t help but smile widely, bowing lower than he ever has and thanking her before nearly dashing out of the office in joy.

He locks himself in a washroom stall and calls Vernon, who listens to his excited shouting for a few minutes before he has to go back to work. Seungkwan is about to turn his phone off when it pings with a notification.

gyu: are u good for this week?

gyu: the date, i mean

Seungkwan had almost forgotten about that. It’s been more than a month since he first asked Mingyu out, but they’ve had to postpone it, what with Seungkwan nearly dying from the new workload. But now that Seungkwan’s straightened his life out again, he doesn’t see any reason to delay it any longer. He sends a quick reply to Mingyu before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping back out into the hallway, still smiling widely.

kwan: sure!!! is tomorrow okay?

--

Seungkwan texts Mingyu on the way home, and they work out a place to meet; when Mingyu suggests Meow Meow Cat Café, Seungkwan laughs quietly to himself and types back an affirmative. He’s wanted to go back there for a while now.

The excitement of the day has left a simmering electricity under his skin, and when he unlocks the door and sees Vernon walking over to greet him he doesn’t hesitate to fling himself into his arms.

Vernon laughs quietly next to his ear and wraps his arms around his waist, warm and solid. “You did it,” he says, and Seungkwan hugs him tighter and smiles so hard his face hurts.

“I did it,” he confirms. They break apart only slightly, enough so Seungkwan can get a good look at the goofy smile on Vernon’s face and get hit by a wave of warmth like pouring sunlight into his veins. “I did it,” he repeats. “I have a career , Vernon.”

Vernon laughs again. “Does this make you the breadwinner of the household?”

Seungkwan considers this for a bit before wrinkling his nose. “You’d be a terrible housewife,” he says. Vernon pretends to be offended. “Hm… am I your sugar daddy, then? You’re pretty enough.”

It’s a pretty straightforward statement, Seungkwan thinks; but the words shift something in the air between them, and all of a sudden it’s like oxygen has become a valuable commodity. The lighting is terrible but Seungkwan is close enough to see the blush spreading across Vernon’s face, skin crimsoning over his cheekbones; Vernon exhales very, very slowly, each second making Seungkwan more and more aware of how close they’re standing, of how long Vernon’s eyelashes are.

Seungkwan’s arms are still slung over Vernon’s shoulders and Vernon’s hands are gripping Seungkwan’s waist and Vernon looks apprehensive as he starts, “Seungkwan-”

“I’m going on a date with Mingyu,” Seungkwan blurts out. “Tomorrow.”

Just like that, Vernon’s expression shuts down. He takes a step back, letting his hands drop to his sides. “Oh,” he says. “Congrats.”

“Yeah.” Seungkwan moves away from Vernon, too, taking his hands off his shoulders. “We’re going to the cat café, the one I went to with you. Remember?”

“How could I forget,” Vernon says faintly. His eyes are dark; Seungkwan thinks he sees something like - jealousy?

He’s just jealous, Jeonghan had said. It seems like so long ago, but Seungkwan still doesn’t understand.

Why would he be jealous of Mingyu?

“It’s okay,” he can hear himself joking, even as he feels himself retreating into his own mind. “You’ll still be my favorite.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Any emotion Seungkwan could’ve picked up on vanishes from Vernon’s face, and he spins around and walks into his room without a word, closing the door behind him. Seungkwan stares at the space where Vernon was standing and feels empty.

He doesn’t eat dinner that night, feeling a little sick to his stomach. Mingyu texts him a few more times, but he ignores the messages and crashes into bed after showering, burying his face into his pillow and wishing he could take everything back.

--

When Seungkwan wakes up the next morning, any thoughts of Vernon are buried under his excitement - and his anxiety, too, because it’s been years since he liked someone enough to go out with them.

Seungkwan, by Vernon’s words, likes roses and chocolates and stuff. He likes being serenaded at night and surprised with flowers in the morning, likes flirting over candlelit dinners in crisp suits. He’s not the type to do the whole sweater-and-jeans, mid-morning in a café thing; but he supposes he’s made an exception for Mingyu, whose only form of serenading is late-night Kermit memes and who sneezes around flowers.

Seungkwan wonders how his old self from a year ago would react to the situation now; he’d be aghast, probably. But also maybe impressed, because Mingyu looks like - well - Mingyu, and Seungkwan has never gone on a date with someone who looks like the After picture in a Photoshopped magazine cover before. Not even close.

It makes him even more nervous, and he spends an hour staring at his closet before picking something out: a pair of black jeans that are very good at looking too nice to be jeans, and a flowy cream-colored shirt that dips past his collarbones and billows out at his wrists. It’s kind of impractical considering he’s going to be surrounded by cats, but Seungkwan can’t bring himself to care, especially considering Mingyu’s probably going to outdress him anyway.

He washes his face and brushes his teeth and does his hair, letting it curl over his forehead in a way that slightly hides the parts of his face he doesn’t like. “You look like a snack,” he tells his reflection very seriously, and then has to resist the urge to slap himself for being the lamest person alive.

He steps out of the washroom at the same time Vernon walks out of his room, and they both freeze. Seungkwan searches for something to say as Vernon’s eyes flick down, then up, then down again, lips parting slightly.

“You look good,” he says, voice heavy. Seungkwan is deprived of a chance to reply, because he leaves as soon as he’s done talking, brushing past Seungkwan into the washroom.

The door shuts behind Seungkwan’s back. He swallows down the bitterness that rises in his throat and makes his way to the kitchen for breakfast, keeping an eye on the time. He’s got an hour before his date.

--

He finds the café with more ease the second time around, and is almost knocked off his feet when he sees Mingyu leaning on the window of the display case waiting for him. His eyes are fixed on his phone, oblivious to the admiring looks he’s getting from passersby. He’s wearing a long trench coat, fitted against his broad shoulders, and he grins when he sees Seungkwan, his cold appearance melting off him as he waves brightly.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” Seungkwan says as greeting. “I don’t think either of us are dressed properly for this place.”

Mingyu thinks this over. “I guess you’re right,” he acknowledges. He grins down at Seungkwan, looking almost surreal in the winter sun. “Where do you wanna go instead?”

Seungkwan shrugs. “Let’s take a walk, maybe we’ll find someplace cute,” he suggests. “It’s nice today, anyway.”

“You’re nice today,” Mingyu says, like the fool he is. Seungkwan sighs and smiles despite himself.

--

They find another place after about ten minutes. Mingyu holds his hand while they walk, which spares Seungkwan from mildly panicking about whether or not they should be making contact, and swings their hands with each step. Their conversation continues through the walk and into the small restaurant they end up settling on, all white brick and chalkboard art and succulents. They order drinks and sandwiches and find a seat close to the window.

“It’s great that you like sunlight, too,” Mingyu says as they sit down, draping his coat along the back of his chair. He’s wearing a black button-down underneath, sleeves cuffed nicely below his elbows. “Whenever I open the blinds at home Wonwoo always pretends to die.”

Seungkwan laughs. He’s heard a lot of as-it-happens stories about Wonwoo, who Mingyu had moved in with a few days before getting the job at the record store. “It’s the worst,” he agrees. “Vernon gets headaches when the sun’s too bright, so our blinds haven’t been fully open for years.”

Mingyu nods like this checks out. They continue their conversation until their cups are empty and all that’s left of their sandwiches are a few crumbs scattered over their napkins. Mingyu is clumsy and awkward in that endearingly genuine way, knocking over things with his elbows and getting sandwich remnants all over himself. Seungkwan can’t even scold him properly because he always looks apologetic after making a mess, like a kicked puppy.

It’s shaping up to be the best date Seungkwan’s had in a while when Mingyu blurts out, in a brief lull of silence, “Why are you here, Seungkwan?”

Seungkwan frowns. He’s not sure if he should be offended or not. “We’re on a date, Mingyu.”

“I know,” Mingyu says quickly. He’s looking at Seungkwan with an unabashed intensity, expression almost naively open. “Seungkwan, I like you. I liked visiting you at work, and I liked texting you, and I like sitting here with you. But be honest - do you feel the same way?”

“Of course I do,” Seungkwan answers without thinking. “Why would I ask you out if I didn’t?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Mingyu’s expression doesn’t look pained, but there’s an uncharacteristic kind of resolve to his words as he continues, “I was at your birthday party, Seungkwan. I helped Vernon record the song he wrote for you.”

“I know,” Seungkwan says. His confusion is growing by the minute. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“Just-” Mingyu’s fingers drum on the tabletop. “Isn’t Vernon the one you’d rather be here with?”

Seungkwan blinks. All of a sudden, he remembers crawling into Vernon’s bed with Vernon’s song ringing in his ears, whispering there’s no one like you in the dark of the night; the way Vernon’s fingers feel in between his, the way Vernon can get him to relax just by tracing the veins on the back of his hand with a finger. Then he remembers he’s just jealous and you guys aren’t dating ? and all of a sudden he’s staring past the structure he’s built around himself for the past two years, the certainty he’s always had in his relationship with Vernon in pieces at his feet as he looks into the part of his mind that’s always terrified him.

He remembers Vernon fixing his collar on the first day of his new job, the way he’d been so acutely aware of every time Vernon’s fingers brushed against his skin.

“Oh,” Seungkwan says very, very quietly. There’s a faint buzzing in his ears. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Mingyu repeats, like he’s realized something himself. “You didn’t know.”

He didn’t. Because Seungkwan is stupid and blind and stubborn above all else, and - how long has this been going on?

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, just barely resisting the urge to stand up and get out of there - away from Mingyu, who he’s been so convincingly infatuated with for the past few months but who isn’t Vernon, because there’s no one like Vernon, is there? There’s no one else like Vernon. “I’m so sorry, I really did like you, I just-”

“Hey,” Mingyu interrupts, smiling. Seungkwan’s so, so grateful Mingyu is an unreasonably good-natured person, because anyone else would’ve thrown their drink at Seungkwan and left by now. “It’s okay. I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose. But, uh,” and he looks a little unsure, “what are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan says faintly. The buzzing in his ears grows louder, and all he can see in his mind is Vernon , Vernon’s eyes, Vernon’s hair, Vernon’s voice in the mornings as he complains about the amount of peanut butter Seungkwan puts on sandwiches. “What am I supposed to do?”

“That’s up to you,” Mingyu says - rather unhelpfully, but Seungkwan knows he’s right. “But I think you should try.”

Seungkwan considers it for a second - confessing, putting himself up for rejection again - and feels an apprehension he’s never associated with Vernon before, wringing his hands in his lap. “I don’t want to lose what we have,” he admits. “I - what if he doesn’t want me?”

Mingyu smiles comfortingly, propping his chin up on his hand. It’s a shame, Seungkwan thinks; a guy like Mingyu deserves a good date, one who doesn’t realize their feelings for their roommate halfway through. “Seungkwan,” he says, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

--

Seungkwan pays for the food, because it’s the least he could do. Mingyu walks him to the bus station because he’s an unreasonably good person, laughing off Seungkwan’s vehement apologies. “Text me,” Seungkwan makes him promise. “I don’t wanna miss out on your Kermit memes.”

“You always tell me to shut up when I send them,” Mingyu points out, pouting. Seungkwan laughs and waves goodbye as he boards the bus, watching Mingyu wave back as the bus pulls away from the stop.

He plugs in his earbuds and scrolls through his music playlist, laughing when he sees his most listened-to track - the song Vernon wrote for him, because of course it is. Seungkwan puts it on repeat and lets it fade into the background the rest of the way home, ignoring the heaviness that settles into his chest.

--

Vernon’s watching TV when Seungkwan comes home, browsing Netflix aimlessly. Seungkwan’s breath lodges in his throat.

“How was your date?” Vernon asks as Seungkwan makes his way over to the living room, shifting over to make space on the couch. Seungkwan very carefully doesn’t look at him, because he has a feeling it’ll take one glance at Vernon’s face to get him to blurt out his feelings and ruin everything.

“It was okay,” Seungkwan shrugs, sitting down and drawing his knees up to his chest, putting as much space between them as possible. He knows he’s being stupid and standoffish for no reason, but at this point being around Vernon feels vaguely the same as being around a nuclear reactor - self-destructive and catalytic. “We agreed to just stay friends.”

Even out of the corner of his eye Seungkwan can see the way Vernon’s entire demeanor shifts. “Really?” he asks, trying to sound casual but failing considerably. Seungkwan considers how easily he can read Vernon, whose face isn’t a book so much as a metal safe. “I thought you liked him.”

Seungkwan bites his tongue before he can say something dumb like ‘yeah, but he isn’t you’. “What are we watching?” he deflects instead.

Boo Seungkwan, actively avoiding a heart-to-heart conversation? Amazing. Jihoon would be proud.

“We can always re-watch 21 Jump Street for the fiftieth time,” Vernon says. Then, the dreaded question: “Are you okay? You seem a little weird. Did Mingyu do something to you?”

“What?” This surprises Seungkwan enough to look at Vernon, which proves to be a fatal mistake - Seungkwan’s heart performs Olympic-level gymnastics in his chest and then bursts into flames because holy shit , Vernon is beautiful . How did Seungkwan ever believe he wasn’t head over heels for this ?

Vernon, unfortunately, takes this as an affirmative, because his eyes - which are the prettiest eyes Seungkwan has ever seen, his eyelashes are so long - darken, and he grabs Seungkwan’s wrist, which promptly sets Seungkwan’s entire arm on fire. Seungkwan tries not to visibly flinch as Vernon says (and there can be entire soliloquies written about his voice, Seungkwan is literally the biggest idiot on the planet), “did he hurt you? I swear-”

The threat of Mingyu’s impending death jolts Seungkwan out of his Vernon-induced daze. “What? No. He didn’t do anything. It was me.”

Vernon frowns. Seungkwan can physically see the gears turning in his head as he says, “you hurt Mingyu? Wonwoo’s gonna skin you alive-”

“ No ,” Seungkwan says, and at least this is easier, the exasperation as he shoves at Vernon’s shoulder jokingly, smiling. At least this is familiar, a buoy in the dark sea as waves of world-ending epiphanies hit him from all sides. “No one hurt anyone, Vernon. I just told him I didn’t really like him romantically anymore and we agreed to be friends. You know, like normal people.”

Vernon considers this for a second before conceding, shuffling over on the couch so he can lean on Seungkwan’s shoulder. Seungkwan tries not to scream. “Don’t like him anymore, huh?” he says quietly, more to himself than anyone else, but Seungkwan picks up on it because of how close he is. He chooses not to answer, for both their sakes.

Seungkwan exhales slowly, tilts his head against Vernon’s and presses play on 21 Jump Street. Panic-inducing contact aside, this is familiar too, and he finds himself relaxing as the opening notes to The Real Slim Shady start.

This is fine. This is fine. Seungkwan is going to continue to live with Vernon without accidentally confessing and ruining the one thing he’s relied on for the past two years, and everything will be fine.

--

Everything is not fine.

Seungkwan wakes up on Sunday morning with a clear mind; he whistles as he makes his way over to the washroom, hums as he brushes his teeth. It’s only when the door to the washroom opens and Vernon steps in that his ongoing crisis sets in again.

It’s the weekend hair that gets to him, mostly - the weekend hair, and the way Vernon rubs at his eyes to get the sleep out of them, and the way their shoulders brush as Vernon walks up to the sink, staring blearily at his own reflection. It’s the way Vernon’s fingers curl around his toothbrush, the way he smiles when Seungkwan scolds him for getting toothpaste on his shirt, the way he pushes his hair out of his face when it starts getting into his eyes.

It’s everything, to be honest, and everything is so, so not fine.

Seungkwan gets out of there before Vernon can say anything in his raspy morning voice and give him an aneurysm, and distracts himself with making omelettes in the kitchen. An idea occurs to him as he’s whisking the eggs. Looking back, it’s probably where it all started; Seungkwan might as well try to find a conclusion there, too.

The reply comes about a half hour later, as Seungkwan is very actively trying not to stare at Vernon’s ass as he washes the dishes. (It’s not even objectively a nice ass, what is he doing?)

jeonghan: i’ll be there :)

--

Two hours later, Seungkwan meets Jeonghan in the same place as last time, except now he looks at the prices and doesn’t flinch, hands the cash over to the cashier with a little pride. Jeonghan takes one look at him and smiles widely, throwing his arms around his shoulders and cooing about how he’s all grown up, and Seungkwan laughs and pats Jeonghan’s arm.

Oh, and also Seungcheol is there. Because of course he is. Seungkwan glances at him, a person he’s always affiliated with Vernon, and panics mildly.

Jeonghan catches on. “I can get him to leave, if you want,” he says quietly, so that Seungcheol won’t hear. “Just tell me.”

Seungkwan almost does. But he knows for a fact that Seungcheol spends way more time with Vernon than Jeonghan does, has insight that Jeonghan doesn’t have access to; valuable insight, even if it means Seungkwan has to expose himself to get it. So he shakes his head and says, “it’s fine,” and ignores Jeonghan’s worried stare as they make their way to the table.

“So, what’s the big secret you had to tell me?” Jeonghan starts without preamble the second they sit down. He’s sitting next to Seungcheol, delegating Seungkwan to the seat opposite the both of them and turning the atmosphere vaguely interrogation-like. Seungkwan starts wondering if this was a mistake.

“I…” Seungkwan’s voice lodges in his throat with a reluctance he’s never felt before - he’s usually the type to lay himself bare to anyone he trusts, sometimes to the point of putting himself at a disadvantage. But Jeonghan is staring at him with a rare kindness, and Seungcheol looks mildly confused but also endlessly patient, so Seungkwan takes a deep breath, steels himself and says, “I think I… have feelings for Vernon.”

There’s a pause. The sunlight is hot on the back of Seungkwan’s neck as he glances between the two of them, both expressions unreadable. This was definitely a mistake, his life is ruined, they’re going to tell Vernon and Vernon’s never going to talk to him again and Seungkwan’s going to be homeless-

Seungcheol lets out a sigh like he’s deflating. “Oh, thank God,” he breathes, and buries his face in his hands.

Every part of Seungkwan’s brain ceases to function. “What,” he says limply.

Jeonghan looks like he’s trying very hard not to either laugh or cry as Seungcheol continues, “I thought Wonwoo and I were going to have to, like, threaten you or something, holy shit-” that’s the first time Seungkwan has ever heard him curse “-we thought you were going to break Vernon’s heart.”

“What,” Seungkwan says, with a little more feeling. "What. ”

“He’s been in love with you for a really long time,” Jeonghan says, like this is trivial and not at all life-ruining information. Seungkwan can feel his pulse in his fingertips. “At least a year. All of us know because we either figured it out or he came to us for advice.”

“I mean, jeez, Seungkwan,” Seungcheol cuts in. Seungkwan feels attacked. “He wrote you a love song for your birthday. That’s basically like getting on one knee, for him.”

Seungkwan pictures Vernon in a suit, kneeling on the ground in front of him, eyes hopeful, and stands up. “I have to go,” he declares, grabbing his jacket. “I- I have to go.”

“Seungkwan,” Jeonghan says loudly. Seungkwan stops in his tracks and turns to look at Jeonghan, who’s looking up at him with almost parental concern. This is literally the nicest he’s ever seen Jeonghan act, and it only took several life-upending realizations to earn it.

“Just be careful,” he says. “Try not to hurt him. Or yourself.”

“And take your danish,” Seungcheol adds, gesturing at the paper bag Seungkwan has left untouched.

Seungkwan nods and grabs it, shoving it into his jacket pocket. “I hate you both,” he declares, in a tone of voice that suggests the exact opposite. Jeonghan smiles and waves as he runs out of the cafe, heart thudding in time with the sound of his feet hitting the concrete.

--

Moon(jun) Cafe & Tea (5)

divaboo: guys i think im into vernon?????

    8sa: oh thank god

    aegi: finally

    moonjun: holy shit

    1010: im proud of you, seungkwan

divaboo: wait

divaboo: yall TRAITORS

divaboo: you all knew??????

    aegi: remember when we literally told you you liked him

    1010: and remember when you were like nOOO

    moonjun: remember when vernon wrote you a love song for your birthday

    8sa: yeah and then we all had to watch you guys make out

divaboo: WE DIDN’T MAKE OUT

    aegi: you might as well have

divaboo: i hate u all

    1010: are you gonna tell him?????

divaboo: i guess…

divaboo: i met up with jeonghan and seungcheol

divaboo: and apparently vernon loves me??

    1010: oo the tea is SCORCHING

    aegi: you’re so embarrassing

    8sa: ignore soonyoung

    8sa: jeonghan and seungcheol are right

    moonjun: seconded

    moonjun: literally anyone who has known vernon for longer than 2 seconds can tell

    1010: yea it’s like if i were to describe vernon to a cop or smth i’d say

    1010: 1. hottest man alive

    moonjun: uh that’s my title but go off i guess

    8sa: stfu

    1010: 2. doesn’t pay attention to anything ever

    1010: 3. big gay crush for boo seungkwan

    aegi: accurate

    8sa: accurate

    moonjun: accurate

divaboo: im

divaboo: i guess ill just perish

    8sa: lol

    moonjun: confess confess confess

    1010: confess confess confess

    aegi: confess confess confess

    moonjun: in all seriousness seungkwan

    moonjun: i think you’ve both wanted this for longer than you know

    8sa: yeah even though yall r gonna become the gross cute couple

    8sa: u make each other happy

    1010: yup :) don’t be scared there’s no way he’ll reject you

    aegi: fairly sure the only reason he hasn’t confessed first is because u were flirting w mingyu for like 3 months

    moonjun: u were WHAT

    8sa: FOOL

divaboo: i can’t believe you’ve exposed me

divaboo: what happened to respecting ur elders

    1010: says u

    aegi: lol

divaboo: this is blasphemy ur all blocked

--

Seungkwan’s heartbeat gradually increases in pace the closer he gets to his apartment; it starts out relatively slow when he gets off the bus, and reaches alarm-inducing speeds as he’s unlocking the door. There’s a weird thing in his chest that’s pushing at his heart, straining against his ribs; he swallows it down as he opens the door, scanning the apartment nervously.

It’s silent. “Vernon?” he calls hesitantly, toeing his shoes off. He glances at the coat rack and realizes it’s empty, save for a few scarves Seungkwan bought on a whim; Vernon went out, then. Seungkwan doesn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

He ducks into Vernon’s room to check anyways, in case Vernon’s asleep or something, because he can’t give himself peace of mind unless he knows for sure he’s alone. The blinds in the room are drawn; Seungkwan clucks his tongue and steps over the piles of clothes on the floor to open them, letting the sunlight stream in. By chance, he glances over at Vernon’s desk as he makes his way back out, and his eyes latch onto a stack of paper sitting in the middle, a few lines on the first page highlighted green.

And he doesn’t mean to pry - he really doesn’t. But something tells him to look closer, and so he does, resolving just to read the highlighted parts. The words ring familiar in his head, and suddenly he realizes-

It’s his story. Vernon printed out his story.

Now Seungkwan’s curiosity is vastly overriding any morals he harbors, and he grabs the stack of paper from the desk, scanning over the highlighted lines as he makes his way out of Vernon’s room and flops onto the couch.

Seungkwan doesn’t really like reading his own work except for editing purposes, so he’s only read the story once for grammar and spelling mistakes; Vernon never reads it either, until it’s done. But he’s had access to the document since Seungkwan started it (because Seungkwan trusts Vernon with a completeness that kind of scares him, now that he thinks about it; would let Vernon guide him across a tightrope blindfolded) and has clearly been reading it, if the highlights are any indication.

They don’t make sense, though. They’re not by any means the best lines in the fic, or the funniest or the most important. They’re just describing the two characters, why would Vernon-

Oh. Oh.

The green of the highlighter sinks into the back of Seungkwan’s eyelids as he reads about a brown-haired boy with high cheekbones and long eyelashes, soft eyes and a square jaw. About his interests - music, and The Office, and sleeping in, how he leaves clothes scattered over his bedroom floor, how he laughs and smiles and stares-

(“Impossible,” Vernon murmurs, face buried in Seungkwan’s pillow)

And about how they aren’t strangers but roommates, a change Seungkwan had decided to make after their first not-date, and how they go out and hold hands and fight, and rely on each other-

( Lean on me, lean on me, lean on me)

And about the narrator, who’s this loud, emotionally viable girl group-lover who scolds and nags and falls in love, all the same-

In love. Seungkwan thought he was just infatuated, just a crush that had potential to be something more. But everything he’s holding in his hands is telling him otherwise - it’s funny, almost, because it was right in front of him for so long. For so long.

(The wish in black Sharpie, Vernon forever )

He’s always liked romantic stuff, candles and roses and chocolates, but Vernon has done that and so much more, hasn’t he? He wrote a song for Seungkwan and supported him through adjusting to his new job and makes brunch with him on weekends, kicks at his shin under the dining table. He stares and stares and stares, and leans close to Seungkwan in the bathroom every morning, smiling that smile, and looks devastated every time Seungkwan walks away.

(Seungkwan’s arms are still slung over Vernon’s shoulders and Vernon’s hands are gripping Seungkwan’s waist and Vernon looks apprehensive as he starts, “Seungkwan-”)

Was he about to confess? Has he been feeling the same way Seungkwan feels now, for a year?

The thing in his chest tightens. There’s a weird burning feeling in his throat like he’s eating spicy food and swallowed weirdly, trickling down to his lungs and the pit of his stomach with each breath. He picks up his phone with numb fingers and dials a very familiar number.

The two rings it takes for Vernon to pick up feel like they’ve been stretched out to fill an eternity. “Seungkwan,” he greets, and all of a sudden Seungkwan can’t breathe, “I was meeting up with Josh, I’m on my way home right now. Sorry I didn’t tell you. Were you worried?”

“A little,” Seungkwan says weakly, mouth moving out of sheer force of habit now that most of his brain has shut down just at the sound of Vernon’s voice. “Where are you?”

“Convenience store down Eighth, next to the gas station.” Seungkwan almost laughs. That’s the place his fic ends. It was right in front of him all along. “Do you want anything?”

“No, I just-” Seungkwan calculates the time it’ll take for him to get there by bus, “can you wait for me? I’ll meet you there in fifteen. Just trust me,” he adds, because he knows it’s a weird request.

He knows what the answer’s going to be before Vernon says “sure.” Because Vernon has always trusted him - always, always, always, a blind faith Seungkwan’s not sure he deserves. “Hurry up, it’s cold.”

“I will,” Seungkwan promises. He hasn’t even taken off his jacket yet. “I’ll see you.”

Vernon laughs. “Yeah.”

And so Seungkwan goes, chasing yet another dream.

--

He feels relatively calm as he approaches the gas station, which is strange. He’s confessed maybe twice in his life, and both times made him sweat all of his body’s water content out of his palms, heart beating so hard it was all he could hear. But he supposes Vernon’s different, after all - after all, he has no reason to be nervous around him.

Vernon looks up when he approaches, turning off his phone. There’s bag of cheese puffs in his hand, another bag of food at his feet. He didn’t bother to brush his hair before going outside, if the cowlick at the top of his head is any indication. He still looks better than Seungkwan imagined he’d look, looks better than Seungkwan ever thought was possible until they met.

Seungkwan is so, so in love with him. How had he never noticed?

“Oh, hey,” Vernon greets, eyes brightening. It’s like watching the sun break through the clouds. He lifts the bag of cheese puffs in his hand. “I got these for you.”

The thing in Seungkwan’s chest bursts. “I’m in love with you,” he says loudly.

Vernon’s entire body freezes. His eyes are wide as he stares at Seungkwan, and it’s always been a challenge to read his mind but now Seungkwan can clearly see every emotion flitting through - confusion, shock, then pure, unbridled joy. He lets out a breath that seems to take all of the tension in his body with it, running a hand through his uncombed hair.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Seungkwan beats him to the chase - if he doesn’t get all his feelings out right now, he might never have the courage to again. “I’m sorry it took me so long to notice,” he starts, rambling. “I’m sorry I went on that date with Mingyu right as you were about to confess and I’m sorry I kept telling you to stop staring at me, I never want you to stop staring at me, and I only realized that like, a day ago - that’s why Mingyu and I didn’t work out, because I realized halfway through that I’m in love with you. So yeah,” he finishes lamely, kind of wishing he could melt into the ground. “I- yeah. I’m in love with you.”

Vernon blinks once, twice and then laughs, dropping the bag of cheese puffs to the ground. Seungkwan is about to reprimand him because hello, his cheese puffs deserve better, but then Vernon is grabbing the front of his shirt and tugging him close, then Vernon is slipping a hand around the back of his neck, then Vernon is leaning forward and muttering, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” then Vernon is kissing him right in the middle of the gas station, lips chapped but so, so warm.

Oh, Seungkwan thinks. Oh.

So this is what I’ve been missing all this time.

It’s by all means a chaste kiss, but Seungkwan is still blushing from head to toe as Vernon leans away, smiling bashfully. “You could’ve given me a warning,” Seungkwan says, weaker than he’d intended, reaching up to brush at Vernon’s hair out of habit. “Also, you dropped my cheese puffs on the ground.”

Vernon ignores all of that easily, which, rude. “I’m in love with you too,” he says. “I kind of have been for, uh, a while.”

“I figured,” Seungkwan breathes. Vernon’s fingers are warm where they’ve settled on Seungkwan’s waist, warm even through Seungkwan’s jacket. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Vernon laughs. “That’s okay,” he says. “You’re worth it.”

“You’re disgusting ,” Seungkwan says, wrinkling his nose and pushing Vernon away lightly. Vernon laughs as he stumbles backwards, laughs as he walks back up to Seungkwan to kiss him again, fingers brushing over Seungkwan’s cheek as he leans close.

This time, Seungkwan meets him halfway.

Kissing Vernon feels natural, familiar. Just like how holding his hand on the way home feels familiar, just like how leaning on his shoulder on the bus feels familiar. Just like how everything about Vernon feels familiar; the dip of his collarbone, the bend of his fingers, the way he laughs when Seungkwan kisses his jaw on a whim, standing outside their apartment.

“What was that for?” he asks, eyes sparkling, smile wide. This is familiar, too.

“Nothing,” Seungkwan says, means you are the sun and the stars and the sky . Vernon smiles, because he understands.

--

A month later, Vernon’s already waiting for Seungkwan when he comes home, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “Seungkwan, guess what?”

Seungkwan scrutinizes his face for a second before the realization hits him. He starts bouncing too, grabbing Vernon’s hands. “You did it!”

“I did it!” Vernon’s beaming, bright enough to power a small town. “Look,” he lets go of Seungkwan’s hand and pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to an email from the local radio station.

“‘We are excited to announce that your submission placed second in our contest, and as such will be played twice a day for a week…’” Seungkwan reads, and lets out a small scream. He jumps onto Vernon with enough force to knock them both to the ground, laughing, legs tangled. “You did it,” Seungkwan breathes, face flushed, looking down into Vernon’s eyes. “I knew you could do it, Vernonie, I’m so proud of you.”

Vernon laughs, tugging Seungkwan down so that their noses bump and Seungkwan has to catch himself on his elbows, bracketing Vernon’s face, to avoid slamming their heads together. “God, I love you,” Vernon mumbles, looking up at Seungkwan with adoration. Seungkwan’s heart stutters in his ribcage as Vernon kisses him, one hand on the back of his neck to keep him close.

Vernon whines when Seungkwan pulls away, a noise Seungkwan had never heard until a month ago - a tragedy in itself, really. He quiets down when Seungkwan kisses his jaw, brushes his hair out of his eyes. “Love you too,” Seungkwan says, laughing.

“What would I do without you?” Vernon asks quietly. Seungkwan laughs again, mostly because he’s pretty sure it’s the other way around, and climbs to his feet. He helps Vernon up and kisses him again, just because, revelling in the smile he sees when he moves away.

“Die, probably,” he says, because he can only be sentimental and gross for so long. Vernon wrinkles his nose and laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Probably,” he agrees, and follows Seungkwan to the kitchen, humming his own song under his breath.

+1

    The first time Vernon sees Boo Seungkwan, he’s in his third year of uni.

Joshua’s walking him back to his dorm, complaining about constantly being shafted to the role of designated driver as the only one among their group of friends who doesn’t drink. Vernon is half-listening and making noises of affirmation at the right times when something catches Joshua’s eye, stopping him in his tracks.

    “Seokmin!” he shouts, waving aggressively. Vernon vaguely remembers that name from one of Jeonghan’s house parties and looks over, too, locating the person in question on the other side of the field, gesturing wildly as he recounts something to the person walking next to him. “Seokmin, I swear-”

    “I don’t think he can hear you,” Vernon points out, laughing at Joshua’s struggle. “Don’t ruin your voice, you still have work tomorrow.”

    Joshua sighs in resignation, turning away from Seokmin and his friend. “Guess I’ll have to catch up with him later,” he says.

    Vernon hums in agreement, eyes still fixed on the people across the field. As he watches, Seokmin laughs at something his friend says, bending down and clutching at his stomach dramatically, giving Vernon a good look at the other person-

    And Seokmin’s friend is the cutest guy Vernon’s ever seen, even from fifty feet away. His hair is dyed blonde and he’s smiling through his irritated pretense as he smacks Seokmin’s back, and he’s got round cheeks and almond-shaped eyes that crinkle as he grins. Also that ass -

    He’s jolted out of his trance when Joshua calls his name, looking worried. “Do you have a fever?” he asks, pressing his hand to Vernon’s forehead.

    Vernon’s face is warm and his throat is dry, but he’s almost entirely sure that it’s not because of any disease. “I’m fine,” he manages, waving Joshua off. “Anyways, you were telling me about that time you accidentally threw Jihoon into the ceiling…?”

--

    Vernon learns about a year and a half later that Jeonghan’s got a friend named Seungkwan who just graduated, too, and who needs an apartment in Vernon’s area, and would you like to meet him and see if you could live together? And Vernon, like the fool he is, thought ‘why not?’ and said yes.

    Thousands of scenarios pass through Vernon’s head as he’s waiting for Jeonghan’s friend to show up; Jeonghan’s somewhere else in his apartment taking a call from work, leaving Vernon sitting alone at the kitchen counter, tapping his fingers nervously against the marble. Jeonghan said Seungkwan was his age, so that rules out any creepy older guys, but that doesn’t guarantee anything - what if this Seungkwan guy is a pyromaniac? What if he likes hosting loud parties with everyone in a five-mile radius? What if he brings people home every night and forces Vernon out of his own apartment?

    Then the doorbell rings and Jeonghan emerges from his room to answer the door, and then Seungkwan steps through the door carrying bags of groceries and complaining loudly, and then Vernon promptly stops breathing.

    No way. No way. Seungkwan is Seokmin’s cute friend? No way.

    “Seungkwan, this is Vernon,” Jeonghan introduces when they walk into the kitchen. It takes all of Vernon’s remaining brain cells to lift his hand and wave. “Vernon, this is Seungkwan. His new job is ten minutes away from your new place.”

    “Cool,” Vernon says weakly, and immediately wants to slam his face into the counter.

    “Cool,” Seungkwan repeats, nodding. He gives Vernon a once-over, expression perfectly neutral, and extends a hand. “How much a month? Your place, I mean.”

    Vernon remembers the number after a few seconds, too distracted by Seungkwan’s hand in his. He rattles it off, watches Seungkwan whistle in appreciation, eyes wide. “I know,” he says, laughing stiffly. “I couldn’t believe a place like that existed, either.”

    Seungkwan turns to Jeonghan, who’s watching the whole exchange with an alarmingly villainous look on his face. “Are you sure this isn’t a scam?”

    Jeonghan cackles, but because he’s Jeonghan and everything about him is unfairly pretty, it comes out as a light tinkle of laughter. “That’s something you should be asking Vernon,” he says, and promptly leaves the kitchen.

    Vernon stares down at the counter and craves death.

    Seungkwan, thankfully, is pretty good at carrying a conversation, and only looks mildly judgmental as Vernon stumbles through every single one of his sentences. He’s still blonde, more of a honey color than the pale silver-gold Vernon remembers from more than a year ago (literally why does he remember these things, his brain is the worst), and his eyes twinkle in the sunlight even as he frowns.

    He hates me, Vernon thinks with fear.

    Maybe less than he’d thought, it turns out, because Seungkwan asks for his number before he leaves. “So we can talk about the details later,” he explains. “I have to go home now, I bought a whole tub of ice cream that’s gonna melt.”

    Vernon nods. “Sure,” he says, and wipes his sweaty hands on his pants before he gets up to see Seungkwan out the door.

    Seungkwan leaves with a nod and a small smile, by no means anywhere close to the grin Vernon saw across the field next to Seokmin that day, but enough to make Vernon almost trip over his own feet. “I’ll text you later,” he promises, and Vernon stares at the curve of his lips for a beat too long before nodding.

    Seungkwan waves to Jeonghan, who’s re-emerged out into the hallway to see Seungkwan off, and steps out. Vernon closes the door behind him and leans his forehead against the wood, wishing he could just dissolve into the air around him.

    “What am I getting myself into?” he mutters weakly.