Chapter Text
There’s a lot of fumbling involved as he’s trying to punch in the security code for his front door while wrestling with a man that might as well be surgically attached to his lips.
Hyunjin wrangles himself away for long enough to make out the small, backlit numbers on the keypad in the dark. The hallway outside of his apartment is an inky, solemn black; the overhead lights must have blown out sometime after Hyunjin left to pick up at the club. Or were they shot before then? He can’t exactly remember. He’s still tipsy from the four shots of Jameson he downed earlier tonight.
His hookup is pressing greedy fingers into the globe of Hyunjin’s ass, whining directly into Hyunjin’s ears. “Hurry up!”
Whatever, Hyunjin thinks. He’ll put in a maintenance request in the morning.
Hyunjin punches in the door code: 0708. His anniversary date.
They stumble inside, a flurry of hands and lips and teeth on lips. Hyunjin tells his hookup--Taemin? Or Jaemin? Did Hyunjin get his name at all before pushing him into the backseat of the cab?--to take off his shoes before he tracks mud throughout the apartment. His housekeeper is on vacation and Hyunjin hates to mop. At least, he imagines so. He’s never had to do it before.
His hookup dazedly complies, hand braced against the wall as he hobbles around on one leg trying to get his shoelaces untied. Something in his expression sobers when he finally looks up and stares into the open-concept living room at the portrait hanging above the mantle. “What’s that?” he asks.
Encased within a frame as long as Hyunjin is tall, suspended above them like an all-seeing eye, is a photo. Two men in black suits, arm in arm, but there’s a sort of distance between them that’s implied, a coldness that translates and settles like a blanket of fog in early autumn throughout the room.
“My wedding photo,” Hyunjin says.
“You’re married?”
“I am.”
Taemin--Jaemin?--blanches. He puts his hands up like a ward and backs up slowly towards the door. “Look,” he says. “You’re gorgeous. I thought I was hitting the jackpot going home with you tonight. But I’m not looking for any sort of trouble.”
“There won’t be any,” Hyunjin assures him.
“You’re married. How can there not be?”
Hyunjin shrugs and ignores the tight, reflexive squeeze of his heart; body deflating like air being let out of a needle-point puncture, undetectable but there. Suddenly, Hyunjin realizes how tired he is and, rather than partaking in a few rounds of meaningless and mostly unsatisfying sex, elects to go straight to bed instead.
None of this--the ritualistic way he spent hours getting ready, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror; breezing past Seungmin’s office, pointedly framing himself and his skin-tight outfit in the doorway for long enough to hum, “I’m going out tonight. Don’t wait up!” just to see the pinched expression on Seungmin’s face--seems worth it anymore.
Exhaustion settles deep within his bones. Hyunjin smiles, and maybe it looks sad if the sympathetic shift in Taemin--Jaemin?--’s face is any indication.
Hyunjin starts heading towards his bedroom without waiting to see if the other man will follow; he can let himself out, if not.
“There won’t be any trouble,” Hyunjin says, yawning, over his shoulder. “My husband doesn’t care.”
❣-❣-❣
On paper, they’ve only been married for four months but Hyunjin has been engaged to Kim Seungmin for practically all of his life.
Growing up, there was an understanding between their families that has existed since before Hyunjin was born and formally cemented when six months after he crowns and emerges into the world, on the day of the fall equinox, Seungmin follows--an understanding that, later down the road, when both of them are of an age, Kim Seungmin and Hwang Hyunjin will be married. Like how the sun will rise and the tides will fall, that’s just the way it is.
Maybe this inevitability would be easier to swallow if they had grown up as friends, but Seungmin is sent abroad at six years old to get an education while Hyunjin remains in Seoul, funneled through a series of exorbitantly-priced prep academies that all but guarantee him admission into a SKY school. In the incredibly rare instance where this isn’t the case, Hyunjin’s family has more than enough money to buy him a spot outright.
From what Hyunjin knows, Seungmin’s situation in America is much the same, except his fiancé takes his education seriously and would have gotten into Columbia University regardless of the fact that his family runs a conglomerate responsible for at least 7% of South Korea’s GDP. Their union rounds that 7 out to a nice even 12, and that’s without accounting for all of the foreign investments brought in on Hyunjin’s family’s side.
As it is, he and Seungmin are effectively strangers despite his mother’s attempts at making their connection seem more intimate than it really is. Hyunjin remembers growing up with photos of Seungmin throughout the house, the ruby-red stocking making an appearance near Christmas embroidered with a curlicue S, and a oft-swapped copy of Seungmin’s latest academic paper displayed in the kitchen beneath a fruit-themed refrigerator magnet.
At most, they see each other thrice a year. Seungmin always flies back for Hyunjin’s birthday and for winter break in December when their families throw a joint holiday party disguised as a charity gala that Hyunjin loathes but is forced to attend. The third and final time they see each other is on New Years Eve where they share a quiet cup of oolong at a tea house on what is supposed to be a date, a tradition that has persisted since they both turned thirteen. Before that, there were awkward play dates at Hyunjin’s house where he would try to teach Seungmin the button controls to play some of the collaborative levels on Spyro. Seungmin, without fail, always died less than two minutes into the game. Hyunjin was convinced Seungmin did it on purpose so that the play dates would end sooner. Nobody could possibly be that bad at Spyro.
Mostly, he remembers Seungmin as a weird, oddly serious boy who never quite grew out of his discomfort around Hyunjin, although he seems alright around other people now. Seungmin is sociable enough, or as much as it's required of someone who’s the future heir to an empire. He is mild-mannered and pleasant.
“He is blander than milk,” Hyunjin drawls, watching as Seungmin makes small talk with a short, freckled boy by the punch bowl on the far side of the room. Hyunjin thinks his name is Franklin or Frances or something starting with an F. He’s Minho's younger cousin from Sydney and his +1 to the party, summarily ditched the minute Bang Chan shows up and draws Minho in like a month to a flame.
Hyunjin assumes the two of them are conversing in English because the lack of a language barrier with Seungmin seems to put the blonde boy at ease. Minho's cousin is swishing around a solo cup now, the most comfortable he’s appeared since arriving at Hyunjin’s eighteenth birthday party, peeking at everything from behind Minho's shoulder and with one tiny fist curled around the back of Minho’s coat.
“How would you know?” Jisung snarks. “You’ve barely talked to the guy.”
“Because there’s nothing to talk about,” Hyunjin responds. A touch defensively, perhaps. He has no reason to be. Everyone likes Hyunjin. Hyunjin is pretty and popular and rich. He’s not the problem here. It’s his husband-to-be. “He’s boring.”
Jisung shrugs. “He seems alright to me. Look, Felix is even laughing at something he's said.”
“Don’t be such a contrarian,” Hyunjin huffs. “It’s my birthday and the birthday boy is always right!”
“Well now you’re just making shit up.”
Jisung is Hyunjin’s least favorite person and paradoxically his closest friend. Their personalities clash basically all of the time but their families are on equal footing when it comes to power and influence and this ultimately goes a long way towards forging a relationship that will last. Even with Hyunjin’s inherent romanticism and dreamy personality, he cannot ignore the underlying power dynamics that exist between friendships that span across varying socioeconomic classes; the corrosive influence of money that eats through Hyunjin’s rose-colored glasses. Between the top 1 and 0.1%, the difference in decimal places is one that’s equivalent to the distance between Heaven and Hell.
Hyunjin is allowed to be his worst self around Jisung because they only have each other in the end.
“Whatever,” Hyunjin sniffs. “Have you seen Kyungho around?” He not so discreetly peers around the English-style garden his mom had landscaped exclusively for the party instead of letting Hyunjin rent out a nightclub and get absolutely smashed.
“Why? You gonna drag him into a closet and make out with him knowing your fiancé is here?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re garbage, Hwang.”
“Hot garbage,” Hyunjin replies breezily, mostly because he knows it’ll piss Jisung off. It has always been a point of contention between them that Hyunjin doesn’t have as strict an adherence to monogamy with his pre-engagement as Jisung does with his and Jeongin’s. To be fair, Hyunjin isn’t in love with Seungmin the same way Jisung is in love with Jeongin and (disgustingly) vice versa.
Hyunjin’s not going to save himself for marriage. He wants to discover who ‘himself’ is first.
He leaves Jisung behind to search for his housekeeper’s son, a scholarship kid at his school and the one Hyunjin’s been secretly hooking up with since last month.
Barring Seungmin, it’s the longest relationship he’s had thus far.
“Kyungho-hyung!” Hyunjin calls when he spots the older boy conversing with a group of his friends: a politician’s son, a child actress, and someone that Hyunjin doesn’t recognize. They’re all pity invites he’s extended so Kyungho wouldn’t feel so alone. Kyungho probably wouldn’t have agreed to attend the party otherwise, which wouldn’t do. Hyunjin doesn’t think he can survive a whole day of being surrounded by people he doesn’t care about without coming into Kyungho’s calloused hand and calling it romance.
“Oh Hyunjin-ah. Let me introdu–”
“--Actually, can I talk to you really quickly, hyung?” Hyunjin doesn’t want to stick around and have to make small talk with all of Kyungho’s friends for however long it’ll take to satisfy their curiosity about the infamous Hwang Hyunjin; a jaded outlook, he's aware, but one formed via years of hard experience. Hyunjin doesn’t want to be rude but he’s also surpassed his weekly quota for disingenuous social interaction at this party in the last three hours alone. Now, Hyunjin just wants a quiet moment filled with the mindless friction of skin against skin.
With a frown, Kyungho allows himself to get pulled into a shadowy alcove in a less-frequented part of the house and lets Hyunjin’s hands work at the buttons of his dress shirt in silence. His chest is stiff beneath Hyunjin’s lips and Hyunjin can feel the vibrations when the other boy grumbles, “Is this what you wanted to ‘talk’ about?”
He imagines the air quotes Kyungho would have used if Hyunjin weren’t pinning him so close to the wall. Hyunjin looks up at him from beneath the fan of his lashes. “What else is there?” Hyunjin asks. Their relationship is not exactly founded on commonalities outside of the fact that they both have dicks. Judging from the repeated number of times they’ve snuck around to get each other off using their hands and mouths, Kyungho seemed content enough with just this.
“I can’t keep doing this, Hyunjin,” he says. Hyunjin assumes Kyungho is referring to displays of exhibitionism.
“Did you want to go up to my bedroom instead?” It’s an offer that Hyunjin wants Kyungho to turn down. Bedrooms imply a type of intimacy that he and Kyungho don’t have. It implies the idea of time--time to languish between his sheets and worship each other’s bodies, pillow talk before wishing each other goodnight and waking up in each other's embrace the next morning. Time that Hyunjin doesn’t have because he’s going to be married someday.
“I don’t want to be your little secret. I’m barely even a friend.”
“You’re really breaking up with me on my birthday?”
“That's assuming there was something between us to break at all.”
It’s a sentence with teeth that doesn’t manage to wound. Hyunjin doesn’t feel much of anything outside of a general sadness at another failed relationship. Kyungho doesn’t look all that shaken up about it, either.
Between them, there was only ever skin in the game. More fragile things, like hearts, were kept safely out of reach and away.
Hyunjin smiles despite himself. “No harsh feelings?” He sticks out his hand.
Kyungho grasps it with one firm shake. “Of course not,” he says, because there were never any feelings at all. “Maybe now we can be friends.”
“I’d like that, I think.”
Hyunjin stretches up onto his tip-toes to deliver one parting kiss. For the road.
Unfortunately, this is the kiss that Seungmin stumbles upon.
Kyungho, who spotted Seungmin’s approach first, places both hands on Hyunjin’s shoulders to push him away. Hyunjin is surprised by the abrupt stop until he hears the sound of Seungmin’s cough and his stomach suddenly drops.
“Oh, sorry,” Seungmin says in that nasal, deadpan way of his. It used to drive Hyunjin up a wall when they were kids, when everything about Seungmin annoyed him because Hyunjin hadn’t developed the ability to compartmentalize yet. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“We were actually just finishing up,” Hyunjin hums pleasantly before sending Kyungho on his way. Not that Kyungho’s in any danger of incurring Seungmin’s wrath or whatever; Hyunjin’s not sure if Seungmin’s even capable of producing such a strong emotion, degrees of magnitude greater than his usual wet blanket disposition.
Boring. Blander than milk.
“Did you get lost looking for the bathroom or something?” Hyunjin asks.
“No. No, of course not.” Seungmin’s only been coming over since he was old enough to walk. “I was actually looking for you.”
“Me?” Hyunjin furrows his eyebrows.
Seungmin produces a present from somewhere behind his back. Hyunjin hadn’t noticed Seungmin had anything in his hands.
He thinks Seungmin might have wrapped it himself, peering down at the frayed edges of the paper and the way the clover design is crooked and doesn’t line up quite right. Seungmin also used so much tape the whole gift appears white-frosted like condensation on glass. “I wanted to give you your gift in person. My flight back to New York leaves in about an hour.”
“You’re leaving already?” Hyunjin is surprised. Seungmin usually stays until after the cake cutting, at least.
“I have an in-person interview for an internship tomorrow.”
“I thought you already had something lined up with that big tech company in California?” He distinctly remembers his mom lording it over his head at dinner a few weeks ago. Look at how much Seungmin’s already accomplished!
Seungmin blinks like he’s surprised that Hyunjin knows, as if his every move isn’t relayed back to Hyunjin to further reinforce how grateful he should be for their match.
“I do, but I asked to reduce some hours since I also want experience working with a smaller start-up. Seeing how a business is built from the ground-up.”
“Very admirable of you,” Hyunjin says. It’s mostly sarcastic but there’s an undercurrent of sincerity as well. Seungmin works harder than anyone Hyunjin knows, which isn’t saying much since he’s surrounded by rich slackers with family money to fall back on, but it still counts for something in Hyunjin’s mind.
Seungmin smiles, somewhat shy, the metal brackets of his braces peeking out. Hyunjin thinks Seungmin is rather cute sometimes. “I hope you like your present,” he says when he offers it to Hyunjin. “I spent a long time thinking about what to get you this year.”
Hyunjin expects another cashmere sweater or socks or a diamond bracelet again. Seungmin’s not very creative or personal when it comes to presents. For the birthday prior, he gifted Hyunjin the ugliest jacket/zip-up known to man.
His fingernails dig into the three centimeters of sellotape surrounding the box, approximately the size and width of a briefcase, to no avail. “Seungmin, this is harder to break into than a safe.”
“It got dismantled going through customs this morning so I had to tape it back together on the ride over. It was nicely wrapped before this, I swear.”
Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “You only got in this morning and came straight over here?”
“Yeah.”
“And now you’re leaving?”
“...Yeah?”
Hyunjin levels Seungmin a look of disbelief. “You’re telling me you got on a 15-hour plane ride to spend not even half of that time at this stupid party? Just to turn around and get on another flight back?”
Seungmin coughs and fixates on some spot behind Hyunjin’s shoulder. His cheeks flush red. “Well, yeah. Today is your birthday. I always come home for your birthday.”
He says this like it’s a completely legitimate reason for an international marathon. Logical Seungmin with this highly illogical excuse.
“It wouldn’t kill you to miss one year, Seungmin. I’m not going to call off the wedding because of it.”
“I know that,” Seungmin mumbles, unable to look Hyunjin in the eyes. “I wanted to come anyway.”
Hyunjin shakes his head but redirects his attention back towards unwrapping Seungmin’s gift. It takes a few minutes--and for his efforts, there’s a shredded pile of wrapping paper and tape at Hyunjin’s feet. The tips of his fingers are sticky with adhesive residue--but Hyunjin eventually manages to pry open the box.
Inside, he finds the most magnificent collection of paint, a brush collection made from sable with handles finished in an opalescent sheen, and a sky blue smock embroidered with Hyunjin’s name.
“Oh Seungmin,” he breathes, marveling at the gift.
“It took me forever, but I finally found a seller who works with cadmium colors that are engineered to be non-toxic while still retaining all of its better qualities. Everything else, I had custom-made.”
“Seungmin, this is amazing. Thank you!”
“Makes up for that jacket last year, doesn’t it? I could tell you hated it.”
“I didn’t hate it,” Hyunjin lies.
“You hated it.”
Hyunjin barely holds back a laugh. “You’re right, I hated it. But this definitely makes up for it a hundred times over!” He’s so giddy about the paint colors and is itching for the party to end soon so he can retreat into his room and start on a new piece. He doubts anyone would notice if he never came back; this party is less for Hyunjin than it is grounds for social climbing and reinforcing the status quo.
His mom would skin him alive though, already resentful of how much time Hyunjin dedicates to doing art. Had Hyunjin been born a middle or youngest child, his mom might not mind so much this harmless little hobby, but because Hyunjin is an only child, she thinks he should be focusing his energy on something more industrial. Hyunjin’s not sure why it matters when he’s destined to become Seungmin’s trophy husband.
Seungmin says, “I’m glad. I’ve always liked the stuff you shared on Instagram.”
“Really?” Hyunjin didn’t know Seungmin was active on social media. He always assumed the account was just for show since Seungmin only follows Hyunjin, a handful of friends, and Day6 under the username ksm000922. He doesn’t view Hyunjin’s stories or interact with any of Hyunjin’s posts. Hyunjin didn’t know Seungmin was keeping tabs on him at all.
Joltingly, an alarm on Seungmin’s phone chimes and pierces through the sentiment of the moment.
“I have to get going now. Happy birthday, Hyunjin.” There’s a slight hesitation that follows. Seungmin fidgets like he’s not sure what to do other than turn tail and run, yet he lingers as if waiting for Hyunjin to make the first move. They’ve never hugged before and shaking hands doesn't seem like an appropriate way to bid each other farewell.
Hyunjin’s not sure what possesses him to lean in closer and press a kiss to Seungmin’s cheek. He can feel the heat of Seungmin’s blush beneath his lips before Hyunjin quickly pulls away. “Safe travels,” he says.
Seungmin opens his mouth as if to say something but then closes it again. He nods once. “Goodbye." Promptly pivots and scurries away.
Hyunjin calls after him, “Goodbye!” but by the time the word manages to push past the lump in his throat, Seungmin is already gone.
Six months later, for Seungmin’s own 18th birthday, Hyunjin paints him a sunrise.
❣-❣-❣
Years pass. Seungmin comes back home even less than before given all of his commitments and growing course load. Hyunjin can count on one hand the amount of times he sees Seungmin during this time period and only in brief flashes at various functions, faster than a kiss, the ones he feels pressured to press to Seungmin’s cheek under the watchful eye of their families. When Hyunjin has the chance, he’ll greet the other boy, “Hi.” Otherwise, Seungmin is too preoccupied with being passed around and introduced to the many cogs in the machine comprising the empire he’ll someday inherit to greet Hyunjin at all.
They’re 22 now. Seungmin is studying business at Columbia after graduating high school at the top of his class. His resume is padded, a laundry list of internships with Fortune 500 companies and passion projects he undertakes on the side. Seungmin goes through life acting like he’s got something to prove and treats every accusation of nepotism, real or imagined, as a reason to work harder.
He grows up smart and polite. He is every mother-in-law’s dream.
Conversely, he is Hyunjin’s worst nightmare and one that also haunts his waking days.
The comparisons between them only grow more frequent as they grow older and their impending union grows closer. Not once has Hyunjin ever felt like he’s measured up to the shadow that Seungmin casts, an insecurity made worse because Seungmin grew up abroad so stories about him always took on the characteristics of a tall tale. As far as Hyunjin’s mother is concerned, Seungmin has successfully deflected a speeding bullet headed towards the President with the eraser end of a Ticonderoga pencil, discovered the location of the Fountain of Everlasting Youth, and also cracked the secret of how to walk back to your seat after bowling without feeling awkward.
“Hello Hyunjin, how have you been?”
Hyunjin is startled but tries not to show it. It’s one thing to be caught off-guard, but it’s another to be caught scoping out the room for his flavor of the night by the man he’s supposed to be marrying.
He ignores the question and says, “Fancy meeting you here, Kim Seungmin. I didn’t know you and Soobin were acquainted.”
“My dad helped his dad spearhead a corporate takeover a few years back so we’re basically best friends.” Seungmin’s expression is completely neutral but there’s a twinkle of mischief somewhere in the depths of his eyes.
“I didn’t know you knew how to joke.”
“Something I picked up at college.” Seungmin smiles.
“That Ivy League education is really paying off, huh?” Hyunjin toasts him with what’s left of the amber liquid in his crystal champagne flute. Seungmin, empty-handed, watches on.
Soobin’s party continues in full-swing all around them; everything is glitz and glamor and glossy chandeliers, a string band playing on the corner of the stage for a hundred or so guests dressed in cocktail dresses and designer suits. The Choi family rented out this hotel banquet hall to hold a more formal reception dinner before Soobin and a circle of his closest friends hop on a chartered jet and fly off to a private resort in the Maldives. The carbon footprint they’ll be generating from this weekend alone is enough to sink the islands by another fraction of a degree.
Up close, Hyunjin can see that Seungmin’s grown out of his boyish features and settled into a face that is distinctly more mature. His jawline is more prominent now and his shoulders even wider, filling out his suit jacket in a way that gives Hyunjin pause. If Seungmin were a stranger, Hyunjin might even contemplate taking him home for the night...or get impatient and start looking for a single-stall bathroom somewhere.
Seungmin asks, “So how do you know Soobin?”
We hooked up after a charity gala last year. “He’s a friend, of sorts. His boyfriend is a dance major at Yonsei, too.”
“Oh yeah,” Seungmin mildly remarks. “And how is that going for you?”
Hyunjin blinks. With Seungmin, there’s none of the ill-concealed condescension he’s used to when it comes to the topic of his major. His mom isn’t happy about Hyunjin studying dance of all things but is a better alternative to Hyunjin not going to school at all. Threats of being disowned and cut off from the family fortune don’t hold as much weight now that he’s a legal adult with full access to his trust fund. Plus, you can’t marry off a son you don’t have.
“It’s hard, but fun. I enjoy dancing a lot.”
“Sorry to have missed all of your showcases and things. Your mom always sends me the recordings though. I don’t know much about dance, but I think you look good--or rather, your dancing looks good. You too, of course. You look good, too. You’ve very handsome.”
“You think I’m handsome?” Hyunjin repeats. At the risk of sounding conceited, the compliment doesn’t really elicit any reaction from Hyunjin anymore. He’s constantly reminded of the fact that he’s attractive and has grown used to all manner of admiration as well as deeply envious stares. Still, something about Perpetually Serious Seungmin also acknowledging the fact makes Hyunjin feel giddy inside.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Seungmin asks. Guileless.
Hyunjin shrugs. “You’ve become quite the looker yourself. Broken a lot of hearts in New York, have you?”
“Not really.” His tone is flat. He’s back to being no-nonsense again.
“Well you better hurry up,” Hyunjin advises, “because we’re running out of time.”
Seungmin turns his attention towards a drunken couple who think they’re being more subtle than they actually are, canoodling by the windows behind a set of translucent curtains. Hyunjin hears a high-pitched giggle followed by a deep-throated moan.
Apropos to nothing, "I’m thinking about going to grad school,” Seungmin declares.
“In the States?”
Seungmin nods. “I’ve applied to a few schools, did some final interviews, and am waiting to hear back. If I go, we could delay the wedding for two more years while I get my MBA. Unless you want to get married right after graduation and live in the States for a period with me?”
“No thanks.” Hyunjin’s English is limited as it is and he refuses to move to a country where he’ll be therefore dependent on Seungmin, who is fluent, for everything. “I’m more than happy to push the wedding back.”
He doesn’t catch the slight downturn of Seungmin’s mouth and the purse of it to hide his burgeoning frown. He barely hears the other boy mumble something along the lines of, “Me, too.”
After further reflection, Hyunjin points out that, “Formally though, they’ll probably announce our engagement some time in the next few months. I’m sure my mom’s in the process of making a pros and cons list of which publication should get first dibs.”
“Does the Economist have a Society section?” Seungmin jokes.
Hyunjin snorts. Has Seungmin always been this funny? “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
❣-❣-❣
The two of them get engaged the summer after graduation. The announcement makes front page news in the Korean Herald and Hyunjin’s mom puts a clipping of it on the fridge right next to a copy of Seungmin’s senior thesis paper and acceptance letter into Harvard Business School. It’s the first time Hyunjin’s ever been featured there post-elementary school, when his macaroni art was just slightly more advanced than the other kids in his class, and the sight of it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth because he did nothing to deserve the spot of honor. Unless the culmination of his life’s success is simply marrying Kim Seungmin.
Hyunjin’s tasked with picking out their engagement rings, a pair of golden Tiffany bands. He sends Seungmin’s to him in the mail. His mom has to text Hyunjin the address. He doesn’t have Seungmin’s number saved in his phone.
❣-❣-❣
There is nothing in particular that stands out to Hyunjin about their wedding day or the months leading up to it. He and Seungmin are forced to play catch-up, every week a carousel of suit fittings and cake tastings and a million other mundane, tiny tasks that give off the illusion of choice, of a wedding thoughtfully and painstakingly planned between two people who love each other and who want to share that love with those around them. This ‘love’ results in a guest list more than 300 people long, invitations being sent out to anyone who’s anyone in the upper echelons of Seoul’s social elite.
They hold their engagement shoot in a generic garden setting since there isn’t any one place that holds significance to them or their relationship. Not unless you count Hyunjin’s childhood bedroom or the tea house they frequented once a year, a decent enough option except for the fact that neither of them hold fond memories of the many hours spent making forced conversation and Hyunjin’s annoyance over the way Seungmin could never quite look him in the eye.
“Okay, now let’s get a shot of you two back hugging,” their photographer instructs. There’s a growing impatience in his tone. They’ve been taking photos for nearly an hour and Hyunjin can tell that none of them give off a sense of familiarity or warmth. They are simply two strangers in suits, posing their bodies to strategically touch. Seungmin is frustratingly stiff the entire time, ramrod straight, both hands clenched in fists at his sides.
“Do you wanna hug me or be the one who’s hugged?” Hyunjin asks. He watches as a butterfly lands on a nearby hydrangea bush, wings fluttering against the pink and purple petals providing some much needed vibrancy compared to the slightly overcast day.
“Can I–-can you hug me?” Seungmin blushes.
“Sure.” It doesn’t matter to Hyunjin either way. He gets in position behind Seungmin and wraps his arms around Seungmin’s waist.
Seungmin, predictably, stiffens again.
Hyunjin bites him playfully on the shoulder and then decides to go limp, forcing Seungmin to bear the brunt of Hyunjin’s weight. Seungmin hunches over, knees buckling inwards to accommodate the added pounds.
“Relax."
Seungmin hisses, "I can't. I’m not exactly used to this.”
“What? Photoshoots?” Hyunjin scoffs. “That can’t be true. You did one for Forbes 30 under 30 last year.”
“There wasn’t nearly as much touching back then.”
Hyunjin squeezes him tighter, chin digging into Seungmin’s collarbone, compressing him smaller like a collapsed star in Hyunjin’s arms. “Do I make you nervous or something?”
Turning slightly, Seungmin’s cheek ends up brushing against the tip of Hyunjin’s nose. They make eye contact. At this angle, looking up at him, Hyunjin can see every individual eyelash and the color blooming across the canvas of Seungmin’s face.
“PERFECT! HOLD THAT POSE RIGHT THERE!”
It feels like an eternity that they’re holding each other’s gazes. From his periphery, Hyunjin senses the photographer circling them, trying to get a few shots from every angle.
“Alright,” he says after what feels like an eternity condensed between the span of two breaths. Dazedly, Hyunjin thinks about how they’re close enough to kiss. “I think we can call it a wrap for today.”
Strangely, Hyunjin finds himself reluctant to let go.
❣-❣-❣
The wedding itself is long and tedious, a private affair that’s being followed closely by the public. Hyunjin’s mom sends out press passes that account for a quarter of the guest list; every blink Hyunjin takes is accompanied by the flash of a camera.
The two of them walk down the aisle together and then briefly exchange their vows.
The officiant says, “You may now kiss the groom” and hundreds of people watch as Seungmin ducks while Hyunjin weaves so only the corner of their lips touch before they’re already pulling apart.
Afterwards, they are whisked off to Jeju for a quick honeymoon–-three days, two nights and only a short plane ride away from Seoul–-because Cle Industries has just inked a deal for a project that Seungmin is taking point on, his first real undertaking and a chance to prove himself as a capable heir.
He and Seungmin stay at a fancy resort, the kind where you don’t even need to leave the premises to feel like you’ve been on a luxury vacation because of the all-inclusive perks and a room with a breathtaking, panoramic view. The honeymoon suite is big enough to be considered its own apartment unit, complete with a well-stocked kitchenette and a washer/dryer, all for show. No one who can afford to stay in the honeymoon suite is doing any cooking or laundry on their own, likely to have either forgotten how to do these tasks or never having the need to learn how.
Seungmin is surprisingly intrepid, allowing Hyunjin just enough time to drop off his stuff before they’re off to go explore their corner of the island. Hyunjin had banked on spending most of the day at the indoor spa and maybe doing a little painting out on the balcony until the sun set. In his head, Seungmin would be off somewhere doing his own thing and they would come back together for dinner. Afterwards, they’ll fuck. Rinse and repeat for the next three days. Outside of sharing a bed, Hyunjin didn’t expect for them to have a very traditional honeymoon.
Except Seungmin looks genuinely excited to do a self-guided tour, phone with a detailed itinerary typed up in the notes app in one hand and his Canon camera in the other. Hyunjin remembers gifting the white DSLR to Seungmin years ago, something he randomly selected off of a list of Top 10 Gadgets of the Year—a pretty penny to purchase in lieu of putting in any actual thought behind the gift. He’s surprised Seungmin still keeps it around when other, newer models have surely been released since then. He didn’t even know Seungmin liked photography.
Despite the wrench in his plans, Hyunjin is a good sport about it. In the event that Seungmin turns out to be a terrible travel companion, at least the weather is nice. Hyunjin could use a little sun and fresh air.
A little sun and fresh air--this is his expectation before Seungmin makes them go on a hike. In retrospect, the incline was gradual so it never felt like Hyunjin was climbing up a mountain until they reached the very top, looking out over the ocean and rock formations jutting up from the jewel-toned depths. The first and only mountain Hyunjin’s ever tackled was Namsan back in Seoul and even then, he took the cable car most of the way. Seungmin is patient with him the entire time, conveniently pausing to take pictures whenever he senses that Hyunjin’s in need of a break. Occasionally, Seungmin will take a picture of him.
“But I’m sweaty and gross,” Hyunjin complains.
“You’re handsome no matter what,” Seungmin returns, delivered off-handedly like he wasn’t thinking too hard about it when he said it, which effectively dries up whatever else Hyunjin was planning to say.
After lunch, they visit the Teddy Bear Museum. Hyunjin takes his time admiring all of the magnificent recreations and displays while Seungmin comments on the intricacy and attention to detail that this sort of craftsmanship demands. The whole place tickles the side of Hyunjin who grew up watching dramas with his mom as one of their sole bonding activities. The whole time, he’s thinking fondly about that scene in one of his childhood favorite shows, Goong. Come to think of it, Shin and Chaekyung came together through an arranged marriage, too.
At the gift shop, Seungmin and his stupid voice of reason is the only thing keeping Hyunjin from clearing the whole place from wall to wall. “A whole room dedicated to teddy bears is only marginally less creepy than a room full of dolls. You’ve seen Annabelle, right?”
Hyunjin huffs, “Fine.” He limits himself to bringing home just one souvenir, a tawny-colored bear wearing glasses and a bow tie that vaguely reminds him of someone he can’t put his finger on. The Nutty Professor, probably.
Dinner that night is equally as pleasant. They eat at the hotel restaurant which has a Michelin star rating to its name. At one point, Hyunjin finds himself having a good time watching the meticulous way Seungmin cuts up his plate into manageable, bite-sized pieces. He’s about to poke fun until Seungmin wordlessly exchanges plates with him and then starts carving all over again, gesturing for Hyunjin to start eating first.
Together, they feast on abalone and halibut and split a bowl of tangerine ice cream for dessert. They don’t talk very much but that’s more due to their exhaustion after a jam-packed day than any lingering resentment associated with forced conversation, the kind they were forced to make on all of those New Years dates growing up.
The atmosphere shifts the closer they get to the end of their meal and is noticeably heavy by the time they get back to their room.
It’s not a conversation that either of them have; rather, it's a shared understanding that they’re definitely going to have sex. Hyunjin is resigned about it, not particularly excited for the act but not necessarily against it either. Honestly, he’s much more curious about what Seungmin is going to be like in bed; if Hyunjin’ll have to take the lead or if Seungmin learned a thing or two during his time in the States. He wonders what kind of face Seungmin makes when he peaks.
Hyunjin takes his time getting ready. He’s got this part down to a science; knows all too well the sweet spot between taking long enough that it whips his partner into a frenzy but not too long that their excitement dies out. Literally and figuratively. (Hyunjin laughs at his own joke.)
There’s a practiced ease when Hyunjin breezes out of the bathroom in a loosely-tied robe, smooth chest and long legs a mile long on display. He feigns an act--how silly of him, Hyunjin’s “forgotten” his hair band in the front pocket of his carry-on bag! He feels Seungmin’s gaze as he traipses across the room to retrieve it, then watches as Hyunjin pushes back his bangs, raising his arms enough for the hemline of the robe to lift and skim across the lower curve of his ass.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Seungmin’s Adam’s Apple bobbing as he gulps.
“I just have to wash my face,” Hyunjin says.
“Okay,” Seungmin definitely doesn’t squeak.
He listens to the sounds of Seungmin’s restlessness on the other side of the door, the rustling of sheets every time he adjusts himself against the headboard of the bed; fidgeting, squirming, unable to sit still. Hyunjin takes mercy on him and cuts his skincare routine short.
Okay. Showtime.
Hyunjin crawls, slower than the drip of molasses, up from the foot of the bed to where Seungmin is perched, watching on with bated breath. Hyunjin can see his reflection in the pupils of Seungmin’s saucer-sized eyes; sees his slightly wet bangs and an inverted version of his signature smirk.
Seungmin is trembling by the time their bodies align, Hyunjin’s arms dipping the mattress on either side of Seungmin’s hips. They are so close, as close as they can get without touching. Hyunjin can feel his breath pooling in the depression at the junction between Seungmin’s collarbone and neck.
“Ready?” Hyunjin asks, half-distracted as he’s calculating what kind of pace he should set; exactly how impatient Seungmin can get and how impatient Hyunjin can get him.
Seungmin only nods in response.
Teasing and feather-light, he presses a kiss on the underside of Seungmin’s jaw. “You’ll have to use your words, yeobo" to which Hyunjin gets a choked off-sounding, “Yes.”
Hyunjin starts off slowly, puckering more and more kisses against every inch of skin he can reach in his journey up towards Seungmin’s lips before he properly slots their mouths together. There’s a tentativeness to Seungmin’s technique that Hyunjin matches despite his wealth of experience. He toggles between hard and fast and soft and slow, seeing which draws the most sounds out of Seungmin, which makes his hips surge upwards and Hyunjin’s own to grind down.
His hands begin to roam, inching further and further down until he’s palming Seungmin through his shorts, thumbing at the head that’s straining and slowly leaking through the fabric.
“Up,” Hyunjin instructs, lifting Seungmin off the mattress for long enough to strip him down. The moan Seungmin unleashes is guttural when his cock springs free and Hyunjin is gripping him properly, skin to skin, wrist bent at an angle as he begins to work Seungmin up to full mast. It’s rather flattering how Hyunjin doesn’t have to reach for lube or impatiently spit into his hand. The slide is entirely frictionless given Seungmin’s excitement alone.
His husband is panting, hot and heavy, in his ear.
“I need–” Seungmin whines, writhing. “I need--Jinnie, please.”
The sound of his childhood nickname, in this context, from Seungmin’s lips, kiss-swollen and teeth-bitten from his failed efforts to keep quiet, really gets Hyunjin fired up. He doubles his efforts, pumping until Seungmin can no longer form syllables, before slowly sinking down and putting his mouth to good use.
Hyunjin sucks him off. He’s always been good at giving head. Practiced and skilled. Still, it takes him by surprise when Seungmin comes after less than thirty seconds, before Hyunjin can even fully get hard himself, and without any warning. He gags on the load coating the inside of his throat; coughs so hard he sees stars and not in a sexy way either.
Seungmin doesn’t take time to bask in his post-orgasm glow. He’s totally mortified, bleating out an endless string of apologies as he roughly slaps Hyunjin’s back, making the choking worse to the point where Hyunjin has to knock his hand away, run, and down a few emergency gulps of water from the bathroom sink. Tears are springing from Hyunjin’s eyes as he tries to get his breathing and erratic heartbeat under control.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” Seungmin repeats for the hundredth time.
“It’s okay,” Hyunjin says. He means it, too.
The moment for sex has passed even though Seungmin apologizes again and then...offers to return the favor, cheeks aflame from both embarrassment and the afterglow of finishing. Hyunjin waves him off and says it’s fine because he’s too tired anyways. Traveling always takes it out of him.
“Let’s just go to bed,” he says quietly. He hopes it doesn’t come off as short. Hyunjin’s none too fussed about not getting his rocks off and is just as content to fall asleep at Seungmin’s side.
Mostly, he’s disappointed he wasn’t looking up when Seungmin finished. He still has no idea what Seungmin looks like when he comes.
His husband stares at him for a long while and then nods, only once. He rolls his shorts back on and turns out the lights.
They fall asleep like that, a foot of space between them on their King-sized bed, backs to each other after quietly saying, “Good night.”
❣-❣-❣
The other side of the bed has long gone cold by the time Hyunjin wakes up to the sounds of Seungmin packing his bag.
“Where are you going?” Hyunjin asks, sitting up to groggily rub the sleep from his eyes.
“Back to Seoul,” Seungmin replies, body turned and angled towards the door. Hyunjin stares at the broad lines of Seungmin's back, currently sloped at an angle towards the ground. There’s a sense of heaviness to them somehow.
“What? Why?”
Hyunjin’s about to question if this sudden departure is because of last night when Seungmin answers, “The head of legal called earlier asking if I could come back ahead of schedule. There were some complications with the contract agreement that I have to sort out with my team since we’re operating on a pretty tight schedule.” He briefly checks his wristwatch. “My plane leaves in an hour.”
“You were going to leave me behind?” Hyunjin frowns. “Without saying goodbye?
“I left a note,” Seungmin says under his breath and seems to be fully aware of how lame he sounds. He gestures weakly towards a scrap of paper on the bedside table, wedged beneath a glass of water that Hyunjin reaches for and drinks while reading over Seungmin’s tidy scrawl. Sorry. Heading back to Seoul to attend to some last minute business. You looked very peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you up. “At least one of us should have some fun this weekend.”
“By myself?”
Seungmin nods. “The hotel and everything is already paid for so you can do whatever you want, on your own time. You won’t have to put up with me dragging you everywhere across the island.”
Hyunjin considers arguing back--yesterday was fun! Even though his whole body is sore from the hike, he was lowkey looking forward to today’s itinerary with Seungmin. Although really, what is there to be upset about? A luxury vacation and quality time to himself? So what if it feels like Hyunjin’s husband is running out on him on their honeymoon? It’s not like theirs is a marriage grounded in love and companionship. He and Seungmin are little more than two names on a certificate, stocks values bound together, and a union intrinsically tied to the value of gold.
“Fine.”
Seungmin isn’t placated by his curt response, straightening out considerably as he regards Hyunjin with eyebrows knitted in concern. “Will you be alright?”
Hyunjin wants to roll his eyes in response. What a dumb thing to ask, after the decision’s already been made. Would it change anything if I said no? Hyunjin wonders but simply nods instead. What’s done is done is done.
“Are you sure?”
Of course not, but Hyunjin doesn’t want to be accused of being selfish when this is obviously a big deal for Seungmin and the future of his company; when there are people’s livelihoods at stake in comparison to Hyunjin’s wasted weekend.
Seungmin may be his husband but this is far from a simple game of house, the kind that Hyunjin used to force him to play when they were younger to practice for the day it’ll eventually become real. Years later, that day has finally arrived and yet the two of them are as they have always been: contrived. Hyunjin should really stop setting himself up for disappointment and burn out the remaining traces of him that longs for romance, for flowers to bloom in the concrete foundation of a glorified business proposition.
Seungmin has responsibilities outside of making Hyunjin happy, if Hyunjin’s happiness is a priority or even a consideration at all.
Maybe if Hyunjin was even a fraction as important in the grand scheme of things, he would have a leg to stand on in voicing his wants. He would be justified in telling Seungmin, “No. Don’t go. Stay here with me instead.” But Hyunjin is a socialite with very little responsibilities and married to someone who will one day lead a conglomerate. As a consequence of growing up in circles where status is everything, Hyunjin is acutely aware of where he stands from the moment he enters the room, an expert at immediately identifying those he is beholden to and those for whom he stands heads and shoulders above.
With Seungmin, it’s never changed. In the 20+ years they’ve been engaged, Hyunjin’s place has always been in Seungmin’s shadow.
He swallows past the lump that’s strangely formed in his throat. He attempts to sound enthusiastic about his plans in order to assuage whatever guilt Seungmin’s feeling even when all Hyunjin really wants to do is be petty. “I said it was fine. I’ll have a little spa day and maybe relax by the pool. It’ll be nice!”
There’s a pause as Seungmin picks apart Hyunjin's demeanor and micro expressions, looking for some hairline crack to pry apart for a glimpse into the inner workings of Hyunjin’s mind. He doesn’t find any. Hyunjin is very good at playing pretend.
“I’ll pick you up from the airport on Monday,” Seungmin promises.
“See you then.”
Seungmin leaves.
Hyunjin slumps back down, head hitting the pillow and blonde hair fanning out all around him as he stares listlessly up at the ceiling. It’s early enough that Hyunjin should just go back to sleep but he’s feeling a little too restless, the nature of his thoughts a little too turbulent, to so easily succumb.
He tosses and turns for twenty fruitless minutes before Hyunjin decides he needs a massage. He really is feeling sore after that hike. Everything hurts rather acutely and there's a tightness to his chest, in his ribcage, that Hyunjin can't explain.
❣-❣-❣
As an only child, Hyunjin knows what it is to keep his own company and to keep it well, to enjoy his time alone and swallow back the loneliness rising up his gut like bile. There’s the aftertaste of battery acid that Hyunjin masks with copious amounts of booze, because drinks don’t count when he’s on his honeymoon and they come with tiny, toothpick umbrellas that Hyunjin drunkenly twirls between his pointer finger and thumb.
He makes eye contact with a familiar face from across the bar, recognition breaking through his addled mind.
Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world. Hyunjin smirks.
Jisoo is an old flame to whom Hyunjin instructs the bartender to pass a drink: an apple martini, the taste of it on Hyunjin’s tongue the first time they hooked up and still lingering when they hungrily went in for seconds and thirds. It’s a happy memory for Hyunjin. He’s feeling a little nostalgic tonight.
At one point, Hyunjin almost falls back into old habits. Subconsciously, his body language has shifted to signal that he wants to get picked up for the night: baring his neck and batting his lashes while looking around the outdoor yard, fingers tapping coquettishly against the table top--until the gleam of his wedding ring catches under the moonlight and Hyunjin, sobering up, eventually heads up to his room alone. On his honeymoon.
Too wound up to sleep, Hyunjin slips his hands beneath his pajama pants and takes himself in hand. It would be so easy to relive the memories of the last time he was in Jeju, especially after that glimpse of Jisoo at the bar, but resolves to keep his wank bank material pretty general.
Hyunjin starts off picturing his trembling thighs and a bird’s eye view of himself riding some nameless, faceless figure. Hyunjin’s never imagined Seungmin before while jerking off as a consequence of the fact that Hyunjin rarely thinks about Seungmin at all, but he tries to now, concentrating on getting all of Seungmin’s features right: square jaw, huge hands, and a tiny, little waist. A cock that would probably fill him up, stretch Hyunjin out pretty nice. If this is the only dick he’s getting for the rest of his life, Hyunjin is going to try and enjoy it, even if it’s only in his mind.
He recalls the feeling of Seungmin’s body beneath him last night and all the sounds he was making. He thinks about Seungmin putting those huge hands and long, boney fingers to good use; how it would feel, crooked inside of Hyunjin and then later, inside of Hyunjin’s mouth as he’s getting pounded from behind. The lewd sound of bodies colliding at one fixed point. He imagines Seungmin’s resolve to make Hyunjin finish first, to make up for that first night, followed by the sound of Seungmin’s voice pitching itself into a grunt when he comes as Hyunjin clenches through every pump, creating friction and pleasure beyond anything either of them have ever experienced; the feeling of triumph when Seungmin collapses on top of him, softening without pulling out, and despite the fact that he can barely form a coherent thought, still has the presence of mind to wrap a tight fist around Hyunjin’s cock, whispering the sweetest things into Hyunjin’s ear even if the sentences don’t quite make sense or drop off completely as he presses kisses into Hyunjin’s shoulder blade instead. He pictures Seungmin’s drowsy smile as Hyunjin shudders through his release.
In his head, Seungmin is beside him, administering after care. In his head, they were making something like love.
When Real Life Hyunjin orgasms soon after, it is the most satisfying one he’s had in a while.
❣-❣-❣
On Monday, Hyunjin’s honeymoon comes to an end.
As promised, Seungmin picks him up from the airport in a tidy white sedan, a domestic model with all the bells and whistles of a newly-manufactured car but with a more nondescript appearance. Boring but practical, Seungmin's car is a far cry from flashy. Then again, Hyunjin thinks the image of Seungmin in a top-down, red Ferarri driving ten below the speed limit and obeying the laws of traffic to a T is kind of funny. Seungmin’s the kind of guy who takes the ‘joy’ out of ‘joyride’
“How was the rest of your trip?” His husband asks, carefully pulling out of the loading zone after making sure Hyunjin is safely buckled in.
“Uneventful,” Hyunjin replies, “although I did run into an old friend.”
“Do I know them?” Seungmin questions.
“Highly doubtful.” Hyunjin laughs. “He was a summer fling I had a few years back.”
“Must’ve been nice to...catch up.”
Hyunjin smirks. There was no catching up to be done in any sense of the word. Jisoo performed a whole parkour act trying to get away from Hyunjin whenever they crossed paths at the resort. That night at the bar, Hyunjin watched Jisoo bowl into a crowd of people trying to get to the exit before the bartender could even reach for the vodka to make Jisoo the requested apple martini. They didn’t end things on good terms when he and Hyunjin broke up.
“Sure,” Hyunjin says sarcastically, amused by his own inside joke. “We did a whole of ‘catching up.’”
Seungmin frowns in response. Or maybe it’s because the sun is hitting directly him in the eyes and they're currently stalled in afternoon traffic? Seungmin looks unhappy, in any case. Strange.
Hyunjin fiddles with the radio dial and settles on a station playing a mix of old-school hits. He’s surprised to hear Seungmin humming along to a lot of the songs despite growing up in the States, probably more familiar with Billboard’s Top 100 than the stuff playing in the background of Hyunjin’s make out sessions with boys who were always slightly too old for him.
At one point, Seungmin loses his mind when the beginning notes of a Beenzino track play and he quickly tells Hyunjin to turn up the volume. The car rumbles, bass booming, as Seungmin proceeds to rap the entire song without missing a single line, barely pausing to take a breath. Hyunjin, with shaking hands because he’s trying so hard not to dance and/or laugh, records the whole thing on his phone.
“Who are you and what have you done with the real Kim Seungmin?” He says this mostly as a joke but a small part of him is genuinely curious.
“Sorry,” Seungmin says but without any hint of remorse. His grin is wide and infectious; Hyunjin finds himself grinning, too. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“The ghost of Beenzino himself, apparently.”
“Hyunjin, he’s still alive," Seungmin points out.
“Obviously not. I literally just watched him possess you.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes. Perhaps he does so fondly. Hyunjin hopes that it’s fond. He was worried about things being awkward after Seungmin left so abruptly and after that clumsy first night. They haven’t really talked save for a singular text Seungmin sent the morning after, asking what Hyunjin was up to for the day, to which he could only muster up a five word response. The sting of being abandoned as a newlywed made Hyunjin that much more petty and reticent to share, even if he knows Seungmin didn’t have much of a choice. Duty calls, or whatever.
The rest of the car ride is spent acting like they’re in a makeshift noraebang. Hyunjin can’t carry a tune but Seungmin harmonizes with him anyways. He barely notices the time pass or the total distance they’ve traveled until Seungmin is pulling into the parking garage of their apartment building, a 30-story construction that splits open the sky above Gangnam. They’re occupying one of the penthouse units at the very top.
“How unexpected,” Hyunjin comments, stepping into the new space. The high, lofted ceilings make the apartment appear bigger than it already is but whoever Seungmin hired to do the interior designing has done a good job of making everything appear intimately cozy as well. There’s a warm color palette tying everything together and floor to ceiling windows that let plenty of natural sunlight shine through.
“This is the best part,” Seungmin says and takes Hyunjin by the hand. Excitedly, he leads Hyunjin through the living room and up a set of white marbled stairs. They walk past what is presumably the master bedroom, the adjoining guest room, and a home office with walls of books, multicolored spines on display, before finally coming to a stop at a room that literally takes Hyunjin’s breath away.
“It took forever to get the building permit approved from the city but the contractors finally put the finishing touches on this room last week.” Cheesily, Seungmin makes a drum roll noise as Hyunjin takes a couple of spins around on the balls of feet, neck craning around to giddily admire everything. “Proudly presenting: your very own art studio!”
His very first.
“Seungmin, this is--" Hyunjin finds himself at a loss for words, taking a lap around the room, fingers trailing across the different shelving units and easels and brand new supplies to go along with everything else. He takes in the plants hanging from braided pots from the ceiling and all the crystals in the window refracting rainbows against the walls; knick-knacks scattered in every corner and glossy coffee table books to provide him with endless inspiration; the world’s comfiest-looking couch in the corner for Hyunjin to rest on when he tires. Truthfully, he would have made-do with a supply closet and a corner with a good view. This art studio is everything Hyunjin never thought to ask for and more.
“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Do you like it?” Seungmin asks quietly, as if Hyunjin’s starry-eyed gaze isn’t evidence enough.
He throws his arms around Seungmin’s shoulder and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Yes!”
Seungmin rubs at the spot after Hyunjin disentangles himself and goes off to inspect some of his old canvases, too busy thinking about which ones he wants to mount and display to consider the easy affection he’s just shown and to whom. He hears Seungmin say something along the lines of, “That’s good to know.”
After exploring the rest of the apartment, very much suited towards Hyunjin’s tastes, Seungmin leaves him to his own devices. Seungmin reluctantly clears his throat.
“I have to drop by the office to look over some compliance details. I’ll be back later tonight.”
“You're working overtime?” Hyunjin asks. A dumb question, he realizes, since Seungmin left to do work on their honeymoon.
Seungmin shrugs on a suit jacket. “It’s a pretty tight turnaround. We only have a couple months to get everything done. Hashing everything out now will make things easier down the road.”
“If you say so.” Hyunjin walks Seungmin to the door. “Will you be home for dinner?”
“I’ll try to be, but definitely don’t wait around on my account.”
“I won’t.”
Seungmin smiles at him sardonically.
Hyunjin lingers as his husband changes out of his slippers and into a pair of Oxfords and then stiffly sees him off. Awkwardly, he waves to Seungmin goodbye.
He’s not sure what’s expected of him now that they’re married; if Seungmin has expectations of Hyunjin as a house husband whose sole job it is to hand Seungmin his briefcase in the morning and kiss him goodbye.
What does being married entail? Hyunjin imagines that, for most couples, it would be like a government-official version of dating except that he and Seungmin never did that properly either. Their engagement and wedding felt like playing house, their honeymoon a dream vacation cut short, but now things have suddenly become real. Hyunjin sees the rest of his future laid out for him, day in and day out of wishing Seungmin goodbye. Aimless as always. How very mundane.
Hyunjin’s never been so much as anyone’s boyfriend, much less a husband. He supposes he’ll just have to learn on the job.
❣-❣-❣
Hyunjin gets sicker and sicker as the day goes on. It starts off as a migraine as he’s letting in their new housekeeper, Mrs. Baek. The throbbing pain is similar to what he attributed to being a simple hangover this morning before getting on his flight. Now, it’s back in full force and is also accompanied by a slight bout of nausea and then later, a fever.
“Mrs. Baek, will you make up the guest room for me please? I don’t want Seungmin catching whatever this is I’m coming down with.”
She nods and sets about the task.
It ends up being a moot point since Seungmin doesn’t come home that night, texting Hyunjin at half past 10 PM that there were some discrepancies over a few clauses that will take a few hours to sort out. He tells Hyunjin, “Sorry” and “Sleep well.”
The cold medication kicks in as he’s reading through the messages. Hyunjin doesn’t bother to respond.
He feels much better in the morning, well-rested for the first time in a while even though Hyunjin’s slightly disgusted by the state of his sheets, damp to the touch from the fever he effectively sweated out. He showers and changes into a fresh set of clothes.
Hyunjin’s in the middle of stripping the bed when he sees Seungmin shuffling past the door, rumpled shirt and tie undone, sleeves pushed up rather than neatly rolled up by his elbows. Seungmin’s undereye circles are comically dark. Overall, a peculiar sight considering Hyunjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Seungmin with even a strand of hair out of place.
“Did you just get back?” Or did he come back late last night and is only now getting out of bed?
Seungmin doesn’t address the question but instead chooses to posit one of his own. “Did you sleep in here last night?”
“Yeah, I did.”
Seungmin strangely doesn’t ask for Hyunjin to elaborate or to justify why, quietly absorbing the information for a length of time that makes Hyunjin feel compelled to do so nonetheless. “I was feeling super ill last night and didn’t want to pass anything on to you.” Especially considering how slammed Seungmin seems to be with work. He likely can’t afford to take a sick day.
Seungmin regards Hyunjin through tired, bloodshot eyes, visibly red from where Hyunjin's standing across the room. His thin lips purse into an even thinner line. He looks Hyunjin up and down and says, “You seem to be doing better.”
Hyunjin nods and says, “It must’ve been a 24-hour bug or something.”
“Yeah. Or something.”
Huh?
Maybe it’s the curt tone or the lack of intonation--the flat look on Seungmin’s haggard face--but the words come across like an accusation. There’s an implication that Seungmin isn’t voicing but Hyunjin still manages to hear: you’re faking it, aren’t you?
“Come again?”
Seungmin shakes his head. “Never mind. Forget it.”
“No. Just say it.”
“Say what?”
Hyunjin huffs, “Whatever it is you’re holding back.”
“Can we drop this, please? I’m tired.”
Seungmin certainly looks tired, swaying on his feet like an errant breeze could knock him over. Hyunjin realizes that Seungmin probably hasn’t gotten much sleep in the past few days, working tirelessly to put out every little fire. Hyunjin should be thankful to have married someone so fastidious, hard-working, and dedicated to everything he puts his mind to. Hyunjin hears it all the time from everyone he meets.
If anything, it makes Hyunjin resent Seungmin more because it makes him feel like a dick to harbor any hostility towards someone like that. Someone so perfect. Hyunjin resents the way Seungmin always makes him feel like the bad guy.
And if Hyunjin is always going to be the bad guy, he might as well live up to the role.
“What’s the problem?” He asks, hands on his hips, speaking with every intention of picking a fight. “No, really, Seungminnie. Let’s have it out.”
Seungmin rubs his face with his hands instead of snarking back. His tight rein over his emotions is another way in which Seungmin is superior to Hyunjin, who always gives into his more volatile nature. Seungmin sighs, “It’s nothing. I’m being sensitive. Obviously, you can do whatever you want. You can sleep here every night if you want.”
“Why would I wa--”
“Look,” Seungmin says and for the first time, he actually sounds short. The sleep deprivation must be hitting him harder than Hyunjin thinks. It’s jarring, the callous things coming out of his husband’s mouth. Callous but true. “I know that I’m the last person on Earth you wanted to marry. You made that abundantly clear our entire lives growing up. But don’t worry, Hyunjin. Whatever whims or freedoms you enjoyed prior to our wedding, I won’t stand in the way of.”
Maybe he means to be supportive. Accommodating. Maybe this is his way of making the most of their situation. But pressed in between each and every clipped syllable is surrender.
No, not surrender. Defeat.
"And what about you? What do you want?" Hyunjin asks, annoyed that Seungmin's giving up on their marriage before it can even properly begin. He can’t help the intrusive thought that maybe if Hyunjjn were good enough, if there was the potential for Hyunjin to achieve even a fraction of the same things Seungmin has and will someday soon accomplish, it would be harder to throw Hyunjin away. Seungmin would make more of an effort.
As it is, Hyunjin is little more than air, the carbon dioxide Seungmin breathes out without a second thought.
"I want...” Seungmin trails, appearing agitated. His hair is ruffled in the places where he’s repeatedly combed it through with his fingers. He does so once again for good measure. “Does it matter what I want? Let’s just keep separate rooms for now.”
Hyunjin blinks away the sharp stab of hurt. “Okay. Fine.”
Seungmin stares like he’s surprised Hyunjin agreed so easily, before that’s replaced by a general resignation when he likewise responds, “Fine.”
His husband turns around to leave. Seungmin’s always leaving, it seems.
Hyunjin immediately texts Jisung to tell him he’s coming over. Glaring at the lines of Seungmin’s retreating back before it disappears completely into their bedroom--well, Seungmin’s bedroom now--Hyunjin thinks he would prefer to keep to separate houses as well.
❣-❣-❣
Seungmin apologizes the next day for being so short. Magnanimous as always. Inwardly, Hyunjin is rolling his eyes. “I should haven’t spoken so harshly. I’m also glad you’ve fully recovered and are feeling better.”
They still go to bed in different rooms at night.
Hyunjin wants to hold a grudge. He’s really good at holding grudges--is still holding one against a girl who won the seat of class president after implying Hyunjin was a serial slacker in her campaign. That was in middle school. He gives her the stink-eye whenever they cross paths at social functions.
It’s different with Seungmin. Hyunjin has never been able to stay mad at him. Despite the years of pent-up resentment, Hyunjin has never actually been mad at Seungmin, not about anything that matters; even though it would’ve been easy to pour all of his anger into a vessel he sees only a couple times a year and whom Hyunjin knows next to nothing about. But a part of Hyunjin has always recognized, even at a young age, that Seungmin is just as much a victim of circumstances, another puppet in a play orchestrated by their families. Hyunjin can’t be mad just because Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind the strings.
It also helps that Seungmin kind of looks like a puppy. More and more these days, Hyunjin wonders if Seungmin has always been so cute.
His husband wakes up earlier and is gone most mornings before Hyunjin’s even conscious, but Seungmin also conversely goes to bed sooner on the days when his workload is lighter. The sight of it is endearing. Hyunjin likes the way Seungmin shuffles sleepily around the apartment in his dumb Pororo slippers, the bleary way he rubs his eyes with closed fists like a child before popping his head into Hyunjin’s art studio to say goodnight.
Sometimes, when Seungmin lingers after Hyunjin returns the sentiment, he wonders if Seungmin is waiting for Hyunjin to join him but hasn’t worked up the courage to voice that wish aloud. Hyunjin, similarly, hasn’t worked up the courage to put those words in Seungmin’s mouth. He can’t tell if it’s out of embarrassment or pride that they’re tiptoeing around the conversation of sleeping together again, both in the literal sense and also sex.
Hyunjin misses having sex so bad but no matter how many hints he drops about it, the unsubtle ways he tries to seduce his husband back into his bed, Seungmin is either willfully ignoring or is altogether ignorant to Hyunjin’s meaning. He doesn’t know how much more obvious he can get when in the peak of his frustration, Hyunjin takes himself in hand and moans loud enough to rattle the walls of their apartment, and Seungmin still hasn’t made a move. Hyunjin hears rustling on the other side of the wall. He pictures Seungmin getting off to the sounds of Hyunjin’s pleasure, which only heightens his own, so Hyunjin amps up his performance. His vision whites out for a full minute when he comes but it’s still not enough when he collapses afterwards, not into a waiting pair of arms, but onto the colder half of the bed.
Still, Hyunjin refuses to outright ask.
He complains though. A lot. He thinks Jisung is sick of hearing about it.
“I’m sick of hearing about it,” Jisung confirms.
“Too bad,” Hyunjin says into the phone.
He can almost hear Jisung rolling his eyes. “Give him an ultimatum then. ‘Either sleep with me or I sleep with someone else.’”
“I am a lot of things, but I am not a cheater.”
“Then make him jealous. Even if you’re not gonna sleep with somebody else, make him aware of the possibility that you could if you wanted to.”
In Hyunjin’s defense, it sounded like a good idea at the time, but he should have known better than to take advice from the likes of Han Jisung.
Weeks later, they’re at a party where they don’t know anybody--or, more accurately, Hyunjin doesn’t know anybody. These are Seungmin’s stomping grounds. He is currently talking business in a circle of men, champagne flutes in hand but nobody’s taken a sip. After an hour in, Hyunjin can’t be bothered to be introduced to anyone anymore and is tired of hearing about dealings that he couldn’t care less about so he excuses himself for a moment.
Hyunjin’s admiring one of the art pieces hanging in the hallway outside of the function when he’s approached from behind.
“I’m something of an art connoisseur myself,” the guy says with a wink as he’s introducing himself. Hyunjin can tell, if not from the heavily-laced connotation, that this man isn’t exactly talking about the painting. “Baek Minsoo. And you are?”
He looks to be a little older. There’s a clipped quality to his Korean, like he’s testing out the words, so Hyunjin assumes that the man has spent some time abroad. It would explain why he doesn’t know that Hyunjin is spoken for by one of the most powerful men in the room next door. Or maybe he just doesn’t care?
“Hyunjin,” he responds.
Minsoo extends a hand which Hyunjin meets halfway. Instead of a cordial handshake, Minsoo lifts Hyunjin’s knuckles to his lips in a dry kiss that lasts a little too long for Hyunjin’s taste.
“How bold of you.”
“I’m a businessman. There’s no money to be made in playing it safe.” He smirks.
On anyone else, this might be considered a smooth line, but it rubs Hyunjin the wrong way. He doesn’t want to be likened to a stock that can be bought and sold or a few acres of land to be prospected for gain. He hates being reminded that he has a worth outside of what’s afforded to him as a human being, one that can be calculated and adjusted and discussed across a table.
Hyunjin is about to make up an excuse to leave when Seungmin steps outside in search of his husband and is immediately swarmed by several new people closing ranks on him. There’s enough of a gap between the bodies for Seungmin to have a perfect view of how Minsoo is standing just a little too close...how he still hasn’t loosened his grasp around Hyunjin’s wrist...how Hyunjin still hasn't shrugged him off.
Hyunjin’s laying it on a little too thick, giggling at a joke that isn’t particularly funny, throwing his head back in a way that exposes the column of his throat and makes everyone watching wonder what his pulse would taste like under their tongue. Hyunjin makes pointed eye contact with Seungmin from across the room.
Don’t you dare take me for granted, Kim Seungmin.
It's only when someone steps in between his and Seungmin's joint line of sight that it feels like Hyunjin's being doused in a bucket of cold water. His reaction speed is just as quick, snatching back his hand and dismissing Minsoo in turn. He technically didn’t do anything other than entertain a man’s interest for too long, but Hyunjin still doesn’t feel good about the infidelity no matter how inconsequential. It’s also worrying how much Hyunjin misses feeling wanted, to be the object of someone’s desires.
Minsoo stares at him dumbly, probably experiencing whiplash from the abrupt 180 in Hyunjin’s demeanor. Quickly assessing the situation and realizing that he’s no longer needed for whatever purposes Hyunjin had in momentarily flirting back, Minsoo then walks off with his tail between his legs.
There’s a call from the podium to announce that dinner is about to start.
To Hyunjin’s surprise, he feels Seungmin’s fingers intertwining with his own. The contact is warm. The iciness in Seungmin’s tone is not. “Let’s go.”
Gravely, they make their way towards their assigned table. The masses' eyes are on Hyunjin, tall and statuesque, cutting quite the figure in a custom YSL suit and ballerina graceful in the way he walks and moves. It’s why nobody pays attention to Seungmin when he says, out of the corner of his mouth, “You can go home with him tonight, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”
Hyunjin stops immediately in his tracks. “What?”
Seungmin seems to realize that Hyunjin’s on the brink of causing a scene. Rerouting, Seungmin pulls Hyunjin back out into the hallway in search of an empty room to have their big altercation, the one that’s been brewing for what feels like close to a month now. It doesn’t help that they pass by Minsoo’s table on the way out. The older man stares at his and Seungmin’s joined hands, at the matching wedding bands. He has the decency to look embarrassed and then mad at being taken advantage of.
The two of them step out onto an unoccupied balcony with only the moon to bear witness to the tense, crackling mood. All of the other guests are presumably seated and watching their appetizers roll out.
Hyunjin waits for Seungmin to close the door behind them before rounding on him immediately.
"You don't mind?" Hyunjin repeats, dumbfounded. What is the likelihood that he misheard those words? That this is all some big misunderstanding? "You’re telling me you don't mind if your husband goes home--to our home--and fucks some other guy?”
There’s a pregnant pause. Seungmin’s answering voice is quiet. “As long as you give me a heads up, I guess.”
“A heads up?” Hyunjin is little more than a mockingbird at this point.
Outside, the December air is biting. It nips at his nose and cheeks. The back of his neck. The exposed skin of his ankle. Hyunjin can’t feel anything but rage.
“Are you fucking serious right now, Kim Seungmin?”
Rather than shrink beneath the naked fury of Hyunjin’s cry, Seungmin effectively stands his ground. He doesn’t concede. He seems to have the audacity to think that he’s right.
“I told you before: live your life. I won’t hold you back.”
How insulting. Hyunjin scoffs. “You think that asking me to be faithful is somehow holding me back?”
Seungmin has the gall to roll his eyes. “New York is not a rock, Hyunjin, and I wasn’t living under one while abroad. I’ve heard all about your exploits. Every conquest. I had to experience everyone’s sympathetic stares every time you made the Korean headlines again. But hearing about it and seeing it is different. How else was I supposed to interpret that look you gave me back there?”
Hyunjin quickly realizes how childish it would sound to admit that he was trying to make Seungmin jealous aloud. It’s a tactic straight out of a bad rom com or a Tiger Beat magazine. Hyunjin should know better. Once again, he should have never taken advice from the likes of Han Jisung.
“I wasn’t giving you a look,” Hyunjin denies.
“You were taunting me. You were asking me for permission.”
“And you would give it?” Hyunjin clenches his entire body to keep from trembling. He ultimately fails.
Seungmin looks out over the scenery, at the glimmering expanse of Seoul's skyline at night. The distant lights are not enough to illuminate the shadowed contours of Seungmin’s face, an expression as indecipherable as the undercurrent of what he says next. “I would give you anything, Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin’s heart skips a beat. How stupid of him to get excited over such words. “Even if what I’m asking for is somebody else?”
His husband turns around and starts to head inside. “Go ahead,” Seungmin says and Hyunjin’s heart beats harder. It beats hard enough to shatter.
“Seungmin–-”
Seungmin cuts him off without once looking back. His hands are shaking but his voice remains firm. “Sleep with anyone you want, Hyunjin. I don’t care.”