Chapter Text
Hansol’s phone buzzes as he clicks his pen. “One more time, please?”
“Sure; I just don’t see the point.”
Hansol sighs, closing his eyes. “The point is we want as many varied takes as poss–”
“Who needs varied takes when you got the take thirty minutes ago?”
Hansol’s phone buzzes again. He rubs his eyes with his fingers. “I’m sorry, can we just do it one more time?”
“Whatever.”
Hansol bites his tongue, literally and mentally, and starts the track again. Inside the recording booth, Hajoon stumbles through the chorus again. It’s fine. It could probably be better, but only if another voice were recording it. Unfortunately, Hajoon is stuck with the voice he has.
“How was that?” Hajoon says when he’s done, pulling an ear of his headset back.
“That was great,” Hansol replies, leaning forward to talk into the mic that piped into the speakers in the booth.
“I still think we should use the one I did a few minutes ago.”
Hansol forces a smile as he hears his phone buzz again. “Okay, Joon.”
“But whatever you think, babe — you’re the mastermind. Okay! Next track?”
“Sure,” Hansol says, picking up his phone to put it on Do Not Disturb. He’s going to lay into Soonyoung later for texting him this much when he knows Hansol is recording. He opens his phone as he distractedly clicks around on the computer, saving everything and queueing the next track. His phone buzzes in his hand for a fourth time as he gets everything ready, and he sucks in a breath to keep himself from calling Soonyoung right then and there.
Finally diverting his full attention to the phone, he swipes down to tap the DND on, but then immediately swipes back up again to look at the texts.
They’re not from Soonyoung. They’re from an unsaved number.
He taps on the notification, opening the thread.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
red or blue?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
this is really important
UNKNOWN NUMBER
omfg please answer meeeeee i really need to decide literally right now i have to leave in thirty seconds
UNKNOWN NUMBER
HELLO???
Hansol stares at the texts, his mouth set in a thin line. He would normally delete a text from what is so clearly a wrong number, but something about it intrigues him.
“Hey, Han, are we getting started or what?”
Hansol looks up at Hajoon and sees him holding his hands up, annoyed in the booth. Without putting too much thought into it, he texts the number back, then puts his phone on DND and focuses on the recording session.
With Hajoon’s persistence, they’re able to get through two more tracks before Hansol calls it at 3am, reminding Hajoon of his early start time in the morning. They bundle in their scarves and gloves, wrap their coats tightly around them, and leave the studio.
“What did you think?” Hajoon says when they’re two blocks away.
“It was great,” Hansol replies, emotionless.
“I know, but, like,” Hajoon flaps his hands in his coat pockets as they walk down the street, “it was really great, wasn’t it?”
“Hajoon, if you opened the dictionary and looked at the definition of the word “fine,” you’d see what we just did in there.”
Silence falls for a second and Hansol realizes what he just said. He opens his mouth to apologize profusely, but then Hajoon starts laughing. Hansol watches him, confused.
Hajoon claps Hansol on the shoulder as he says through giggles, “You’re so fucking funny , Han.”
Hansol doesn’t smile. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Thanks.”
“My place?” Hajoon asks, more of a statement than a question.
“I’m… I’m really tired…”
“We don’t have to do anything for long,” Hajoon says, turning down his street and leaving Hansol standing on the sidewalk. “Come on.”
Hansol watches him. He wonders how long he could let Hajoon walk before he realized Hansol wasn’t behind him. Then, he sighs, turns down the street, and follows Hajoon at a distance to his apartment.
Hansol wraps his scarf tighter around his neck and pulls it up so it partially covers his mouth. Hajoon kept him up late the night before, so he forgot to set an alarm and is now late heading back to the studio.
Fuck.
He pulls his beanie down over his ears. It takes a little more effort in the gloves than usual, but, eventually, he’s able to do it.
As he walks, he plots out how to tell Hajoon that he has to spend more time at his own apartment.
It’s closer to work , he thinks, mentally keeping a tab of all of his reasons and hoping he’ll remember. Plus, I pay for it. It’s not really financially responsible to pay for an apartment that I’m never at.
He knows what Hajoon’s immediate response to that would be. He sighs, closing his eyes briefly before looking up and squinting at the morning sun.
We can’t move in together. It might save on rent, but you’re a horrible roommate. Actually, you’re a horrible boyfriend, too. And we’re done.
Hansol purses his lips. This is how he knows it’s a fantasy — because he’d never say that.
He turns and walks into a coffee shop. Hajoon swore off coffee years ago, so Hansol always has to buy coffee out the morning after he spends the night at Hajoon’s. Which means he buys several coffees a week.
Waiting for his order to be ready, he opens his phone, mindlessly thumbing through social media accounts. Then, he tabs over to his texts. Two from Seokmin that he really should reply to before he gets to work, and one from the unknown texter the night before. He opens that thread.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
omfg please answer meeeeee i really need to decide literally right now i have to leave in thirty seconds
UNKNOWN NUMBER
HELLO???
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Blue
UNKNOWN NUMBER
thanks <3
Hansol reads the exchange over and over and over. He still can’t put a finger on why he can’t get it out of his brain. He’s been texted by wrong numbers before, but there’s something about this one. Maybe it’s the all lowercase. Maybe it’s the insistence that he respond, and quickly. Maybe it’s just that he’s lonely and hasn’t had a friendly, no-strings conversation with anyone in what feels like a very, very long time.
He switches over to Seokmin’s texts asking for a clarifying question on a bit they’d recorded the day before. Then, his phone buzzes and he does a double take at the banner at the top of his screen.
It’s the unknown number from the night before.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
u were right, btw. blue was the right choice. tysm.
Something about it makes Hansol smile. He hearts the message and puts his phone in his pocket, watching the baristas pull shots and mix drinks. Then, he pulls his phone out of his pocket again.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
I’m so sorry; who is this?
Almost immediately, the three texting dots pop up. A text comes through seconds later.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
soonyoung don’t play w me i know u got a new number you don’t have to be so silly
Hansol’s brow furrows a little but he feels a smile creep onto his face.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
No Soonyoung here
He watches the text bubbles appear, then disappear. After a few seconds of staring at his screen, his name gets called. Pocketing his phone, he picks up his coffee, then walks to the station to doctor it up with cream and sugar.
As he’s walking out of the coffee shop, his phone buzzes.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
omfg i’m so sorry i thought you were my friend he got a new number but he must’ve typed it in wrong he was drunk i was drunk it was a whole thing anyway i’m so sorry i’ll never bother you ever again
Hansol laughs. Full, body-shaking guffaws of laughter. He has to stop walking down the street because he’s laughing so hard. He takes a breath, chuckles a little, and starts walking again. He realizes can’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. He takes a sip of his coffee and starts typing another response.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
No worries; it made me laugh.
Then, Hansol puts his phone back in his pocket and continues his walk to work, his heart feeling lighter than it did before.
“You’re looking cheery,” Seokmin says, looking up from his desk.
Hansol drops his bag on his own desk, setting down his coffee as he grins at Seokmin. “Am I?”
“Yeah,” Seokmin slowly replies. He raises an eyebrow. “Did you get laid last night?”
“I mean… yeah, but…”
“Maybe that’s it.”
Hansol wants to say that he doesn’t think that’s it, but he doesn’t want Seokmin to start asking even more prying questions into his personal life. Instead, Hansol just ignores him, plopping down on his chair and clicking through emails.
“Oh, hey,” Seokmin says a few minutes later. “Do you know who was in here last night after work?”
“Me and Hajoon.”
Seokmin raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, it wasn’t like that,” Hansol replies, rolling his eyes. “We were recording his mixtape.”
Seokmin makes a face, looking more disgusted than Hansol has probably ever seen him.
“What,” Hansol says.
“When are you going to tell him that his mixtape sucks and isn’t worth your time?”
Hansol sighs. “I dunno. Maybe when you tell Jisoo you have a big fat crush on him.”
Seokmin immediately turns red. He spins his chair back to face his computer. “Do not.”
“Min, you just told me last week that —”
Seokmin holds a hand up. “Hansol, I told you that in confidence, not so you could use it against me in a work setting.”
Hansol holds his hands up. “Okay, forget I said anything.”
“I will,” Seokmin says, starting to type away at his computer.
Hansol glances at the screen. It’s gibberish in a Word document.
“But you should really tell Hajoon.”
Sighing again, Hansol runs a hand through his hair as he clicks through emails. “We’re almost done.”
“Recording. You still have to master it.”
“Which will only take…” Hansol remembers the number of tracks on the mixtape and bites the inside of his lip.
“Forever,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s gonna take forever, Hansol. It’s a waste of your time and talent. Not to mention it’s ruining the vibes in the studio. This space was not meant to host bad art.”
Hansol chews on the inside of his cheek. “We’ll hurry.”
He can feel Seokmin staring at him. After a minute, Seokmin turns back to his computer. Hansol lets out a slow breath.
We’ll finish soon because I’ll rip all my hair out if we don’t .
“I need you to spot me for rent this month,” Hajoon says through a mouthful of chips and salsa.
Hansol chokes on guac, covering his mouth with his hand as he coughs. Hajoon gives him a weird, uncomfortable look as he hands Hansol his glass of water. Hansol takes a few sips before gasping out, “What?”
“I said, I need you to spot me for rent.”
Hansol briefly runs through a list of immediate responses, assuming every single one would get him slapped or broken up with in this fine Tex-Mex establishment. He wonders if it’s new Gen Alpha lingo for something he’s too offline to understand.
“I’m sorry…do you mean you can’t pay rent?”
Hajoon makes an affronted face. “Okay, go ahead and blab my financial status to the whole restaurant.”
Hansol leans back, waiting for Hajoon to say something. Anything.
“I can definitely pay,” Hajoon finally says, dipping another chip into the green salsa before dipping it into the queso, “it’s just tied up in assets right now.”
Hansol furrows his brow. “And what the fuck does that mean.”
“It’s tied up. In assets.”
“What assets?”
Hajoon waves a hand, chewing a bit before sputtering, “Stocks!”
“You invest in the stock market?”
“Yes.”
Hansol narrows his eyes. He knows exactly where this is going, but he hopes he’s wrong.
“Is this about Jiho’s company that just went public?”
“Maybe,” Hajoon says around the straw of his margarita.
Hansol lets out a quick breath. He picks up his marg and slowly takes a sip. He needs to be so calm in this moment, but he doesn’t know if he has it in him.
Marg, give me strength.
“Jiho’s company is gonna go under.”
“Maybe with that attitude.”
“Joon, I told you that was a bad investment.”
“I disagreed.”
Hansol shakes his head and takes another drink.
“Babe,” Hajoon says, grabbing Hansol’s free hand. “I was just helping out a friend.”
Hansol gently pulls his hand away. Ignoring the glaringly obvious red flag – they’ll talk about that later – he sighs and continues. “I thought you just booked a trip to visit your mom next month?”
“I did,” Hajoon replies, shoving another guac-laden chip in his mouth. “I thought she was going to pay me back for it but turns out she wants me out on the streets, I guess.”
Hansol raises an eyebrow. “Your mom shouldn’t pay for everything forever.”
“But I’m going to visit her!”
“I thought you were going to that music festival near her house and that’s why you’re going to stay with her.”
“Well, yeah, but I’m going to see her, too.”
Hansol stabs at his burrito with his fork. He’d been so excited about eating here tonight, clocking out a few minutes early even though they were behind on prep work for the new artist coming in to record the next day. Now he has no appetite.
“Anyway.”
“You can’t just…” Hansol sighs, thinks for a second, then restarts. “I have rent, too. I can’t pay for both your apartment and mine.”
Hajoon stares at him, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Wait…wait, I’m so stupid. You’re so right.” He’s grinning now, mouth full of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth on full display. “We should just move in together.”
Hansol furrows his brow. “That’s not what I—”
“That’s such a great idea.” Hajoon gets up, walks around the table, and squeezes Hansol around the neck. “I fucking love you, babe.”
Hansol sighs.
Great.
Hansol pulls the key out of the lock, pushes the door open, chucks his backpack inside, slams the door, and falls to the ground, slamming face-first into the carpet. He lets out a long groan.
“Fuck. My. Life.”
After a second, he feels a socked toe tap his shoulder. He opens his eyes and looks up, squinting against the light in the ceiling.
“You good?” Jeonghan asks, holding a large bag of chips and popping one in his mouth nonchalantly.
Hansol throws his arm over his eyes. “Obviously.”
“You’re normally a ball of sunshine when you come in here,” Jeonghan says through crunches. “Today you’re on another level entirely.”
“Go away, Jeonghan.”
“Seriously, you’re ruining the vibe.”
“Jeonghan.” Hansol pulls his arm away and looks up. “A gentle reminder. You don’t even live here.”
“I’ve actually moved into your room, since you’re never here anyway.”
Hansol frowns, raising his voice to yell, “Seungcheol?”
“Not true!” Seungcheol yells from the kitchen. He appears moments later, stirring something in a large bowl and wearing a frilly apron that looks like it came out of Jeonghan’s grandmother’s house. “But seriously, we ’ve barely seen you.”
Hansol groans and pulls himself up into a sitting position. “Hajoon…”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes and walks into the kitchen. Seungcheol gives him a look before turning back to Hansol. “Have you ever thought about just moving in with him?”
Hansol rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Funny you say that.”
Jeonghan lets out a noise that carries from the kitchen. Seungcheol pauses stirring. “What do you mean?” he asks hesitantly.
“He asked me to move in with him. Well, not really. He asked me to spot his rent.”
Seungcheol stares at him for a few moments, then says, “Come sit down and tell us about it. I’ll pour you a drink.”
Hansol sits on a barstool nursing a glass of beer and telling Jeonghan and Seungcheol about his evening until the beer is lukewarm and Jeonghan’s bag of chips is empty.
Seungcheol puts the lasagna he’d been making, including the pasta sauce he’d been stirring, into the oven, set a timer, and turned back around to face Hansol.
“What are you gonna do?” he asks.
Hansol drops his face to the counter, resting his forehead against the cool granite. “I don’t know,” he mumbles.
“Don’t let him bully you,” Jeonghan supplies. “You’d be a fucking idiot to let him bully you into doing anything like that. Like, don’t be a fucking idiot.”
“Thank you, Jeonghan,” Hansol mutters.
“I may be misremembering,” Seungcheol says slowly, “but I thought you were talking about breaking up with him recently.”
Hansol looks up at Seungcheol. He holds eye contact with him for a minute, then shrugs, turning his attention to his glass to spin it precariously on the countertop. After a few minutes, Jeonghan grabs it and puts it in the dishwasher.
“What if I wanted another glass?” Hansol pouts.
“You’ve had enough,” Jeonghan replies.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Sollie,” Seungcheol says, “but you shouldn’t move in with him just to save money. He should be paying his own rent.”
“And you should be sleeping here,” Jeonghan adds.
“With you two lovebirds?” Hansol makes a face. “I’d rather die.”
“We split our time between your apartment and mine,” Jeonghan replies, giving Seungcheol a look.
Seungcheol’s face reddens. “Anyway.”
Hansol sighs. “What do I do?”
Seungcheol and Jeonghan glance at each other. Hansol doesn’t like it.
“This feels like a decision you should make on your own,” Seungcheol says.
“Ugh,” Hansol groans. “Just tell me what to do.”
“No,” Jeonghan replies, leaning his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder.
“But we’re here for you to talk through anything,” Seungcheol adds.
The conversation lists away from Hansol’s relationship woes, but it lingers in the back of Hansol’s mind. He wishes he had something as easy as Jeonghan and Seungcheol. He can’t even remember when they started dating. When he met Seungcheol through a friend of a friend and signed a lease on their shared apartment a week later, Jeonghan sort of just drifted in from the background and stuck around. Hansol doesn’t know Seungcheol without Jeonghan. The idea of one without the other just seemed wrong.
When it comes to his own relationship, he can absolutely see himself separate from Hajoon. Which he’d always thought was a good thing, since he was a person before he met Hajoon and he’ll be a person after Hajoon, too. (If there is an after Hajoon.)
They’d started dating almost a year ago and it had been pretty smooth sailing. Almost too smooth. Hansol had always been easygoing and Hajoon was opinionated enough for the both of them. A part of Hansol loved the freedom that came with someone else making all the decisions in a relationship. But sometimes he had an opinion, too. The few times he’d voiced one, they discussed it and he’d ended up eventually agreeing with Hajoon. It wasn’t like these were life-changing opinions, either. Their first big argument was whether Star Wars or Star Trek was better. But it kind of just made Hansol want to keep his opinions to himself. To not rock the boat. To let Hajoon lead.
At this point, he doesn’t think he’d know how to voice an opinion that’s contradictory to Hajoon’s, especially one in such a pivotal moment as this.
He doesn’t even know why he doesn’t want to move in with Hajoon. Their relationship has been fine. Hajoon gets Hansol in a way that a lot of other people don’t. Their schedules align well enough that they’re able to go on regular dates throughout the week. The sex is also pretty great.
But moving in…
Hansol continues watching Jeonghan and Seungcheol. They’ve moved into the living room now, plates of lasagna on the coffee table in front of them as they sit on the carpet. He can see them moving in together for sure. They already act like a married couple, slotting into Hansol’s life like the extra set of parents he didn’t know he needed. They complement each other so well, never talking over each other too much, never shutting each other down, never taking up too much room in the relationship.
Hansol doesn’t like to think negatively about Hajoon but, deep down in his heart, sometimes he wishes he could just have a weekend to himself. At his core, he’s an introvert. He needs time alone to decompress. Even when Seungcheol is in their apartment, he respects when Hansol is in his room, not yelling for him or trying to talk to him through a closed door. Sometimes they’ll go hours without speaking to one another, even if they’re in the same room, but it never feels awkward or oppressive. It’s just… easy.
Which is probably the exact opposite of how it will be if he lives with Hajoon. Hajoon, who talks a mile a minute and never really needs to take a breath or ask a question to keep the conversation going. Hajoon, who always has an opinion about everything and can argue for or against anything at length, sometimes for hours on end. Hajoon, who never really lets Hansol out of his sight whenever they’re under the same roof.
If Hansol’s honest with himself, he’d admit that, sometimes, Hajoon’s love feels suffocating. Which, like, feels like a terrible thing to say. It’s love, isn’t it? Who is he to dictate how someone should love someone else? It’s none of his business.
But sometimes, late at night, after Hajoon starts snoring in the bed beside him, Hansol lies awake and just breathes. Listening to his breath — as well as he can, obviously — and feeling his chest inflate and deflate, over and over and over. He thinks about the day and everything they’d done and talked about together. Sometimes he realizes he’d gone to Hajoon’s apartment with an exciting or annoying piece of information he’d wanted to talk through and now it’s the end of the day and he never got to tell Hajoon about it.
He’d dated off and on, but Hajoon is his first long-term boyfriend. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe they’ll work through things. Maybe he’s making too big of a deal out of this. Maybe he’ll think about it a little more and decide that living with Hajoon is a good idea and it’ll be the best choice he’s ever made in his entire life.
Maybe.
“Let’s discuss this new artist,” Jisoo says, crossing his arms and leaning nonchalantly on Seokmin’s desk. He’s wearing a blue button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows. At a holiday party a few years ago, three drinks in, he’d finally admitted to Hansol and Seokmin that he’d been scouted by a music producer who had asked if he’d wanted to be the visual in a new idol group. When he told them he’d turned it down, Seokmin had almost blurted out something about how he could still be the visual in an idol group if he wanted to, but Hansol shut him down before he embarrassed himself too badly.
Hansol glances at Seokmin and sees a bead of sweat slowly trickle from his hairline to his temple. He smiles.
“We, uh, did some research yesterday,” Seokmin says, spinning around to pull a document up on his desktop.
“Excellent work,” Jisoo says. He places a hand on the back of Seokmin’s chair and leans forward, squinting at the document as he reads.
Seokmin, to his credit, doesn’t react. The only tell of his crush that Hansol can see is a very forced swallow about ten seconds in.
“Excellent,” Jisoo repeats when he’s done, pulling away.
Seokmin blinks, then slowly spins his chair to face Jisoo and Hansol.
Hansol smirks, then turns to Jisoo. “I’ve listened to his demos and they sound pretty great. A few missing lyrics here and there but, otherwise, pretty solid.”
“He’s bringing some of his team, so they’ll help with that. We just need to be on our A game,” Jisoo says, emphasizing his words with extended hands. “This is an up-and-coming artist and we’re getting in on the ground floor. We need to stay there.”
Hansol nods. The conversation ends and Jisoo leaves to finish his own prep work. Hansol slowly turns in his desk chair to face Seokmin, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Shut up.”
Hansol throws his hands up. “I didn’t even say anything!”
“You were thinking it.”
Smirking, Hansol spins away. He needs to tackle a few emails before this new artist comes in for his session and they wouldn’t send themselves.
If he’d known how many emails he’d be sending at a job he’d assumed would just be manning a recording booth…
His phone buzzes and he hits send before looking. As soon as he realizes who it’s from, he picks up his phone.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
ok it’s that time of day.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
…
UNKNOWN NUMBER
time for you to decide what i wear.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
:)
Hansol cocks an eyebrow. He glances at Seokmin — still hacking away at his own inbox — and spins to face away from him before responding.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Well hello again
UNKNOWN NUMBER
hello again
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
The text from before was for me to pick what you’re wearing?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
yeah wasn’t it fun
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
For you or me?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
:)
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
I don’t like the look of that emoji
UNKNOWN NUMBER
yellow or green
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Who looks good in yellow?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
i do aren’t you jealous
Hansol feels himself smiling. He doesn’t know why. But he also doesn’t want to stop.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Green
UNKNOWN NUMBER
prob for the best
“Helloooooo?”
Hansol blinks, looking up from his phone to Seokmin’s amused face. He puts his phone face-down on the desk, mumbling, “Sorry.”
“Anything I need to know about?”
Hansol focuses on his emails. “Nope.”
A few minutes later, when Seokmin isn’t paying attention, Hansol sneaks a glance at his phone.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
thank u, unknown number
Hansol smiles a little, then types.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Ur welc, unknown number
A few minutes later, the recording session with the new artist starts. Hansol focuses on the track, mixing as much as he can as he goes. It goes pretty smoothly, all things considered. The new up-and-comer is a hard worker, if a little anal about the process and redoing things that can just be fixed in post. The execs in the room with Hansol seem to be pleased, even if they’re a little annoying and ask more questions than should be allowed, while still somehow completely ignoring Seokmin and Hansol.
Hansol doesn’t really get a good look at the artist’s face because they’re both so honed in on their work, but he glances up every now and then and catches bits of his bleached, honey blonde hair or his round nose. His voice is gorgeous, if a little more suited for ballads than the pop-rock this company has him singing.
The session goes a little over time, but Hansol doesn’t mind. He doesn’t even realize they’ve run late until he looks up at the clock. He saves everything on his desktop and realizes he’s actually looking forward to doing the mastering tomorrow.
He spins around in his chair to face the execs, making pointed eye contact with Seokmin. The final wrap-up before everybody leaves is always the worst part of the session and requires more ass-kissing than Hansol has ever wanted to do. Luckily, Jisoo does most of it.
The artist walks out of the booth, sipping an iced americano as he closes the door behind him. He shakes his head a little to readjust his bangs. Hansol can’t look away.
Everything about him is delicate. The way his fingers are gripping the cup (from the top, holding the lid, which shouldn’t look as hot as it does), the way his lips are enveloping the straw, even the way his eyes slowly scan the room. Hansol watches him look at everyone, his gaze slowing when he comes across someone new.
Then he’s looking directly at Hansol. His eyes are a deep chocolate brown, expressive and soft. They’re so intoxicating that it takes Hansol a split second to realize that he’s staring a little too hard and he has to rip his gaze away and force himself to stare at his shoes. Jisoo will get onto him later for not kissing the execs’ asses by engaging in the conversation a little more, but he’ll deal.
A few minutes later, everybody’s gone and it’s just Seokmin and Hansol, pulling on jackets and packing things into their bags.
“Who was that?” Hansol asks, feeling a twinge of embarrassment about missing the artist’s name.
Seokmin clicks around on his computer, then reads, “Boo Seungkwan.”
“Did you tell Seungcheol that you’re moving out yet?”
Hansol closes his eyes. Shit .
“I think next week would work for me,” Hajoon says. “I’m gonna be super busy working on Jiho’s business plan with him so I’ll be in and out, but that would be the perfect time for you to move everything.”
Hansol glances at him, brow furrowed slightly. “You… you’re not gonna help me move?”
Hajoon just blinks at him. “Honey, you know my back is still fucked up from working out that time.”
Swallowing, Hansol nods, focusing back on the pizza crust he’s slowly spreading out on the pizza sheet. “Sure. Okay.”
“Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“I didn’t; I just…” Hansol doesn’t know how to say it. How to ask for help. How to say that even just Hajoon being there with him would be a huge mental help. “I’m sorry; I just thought you could carry some lighter stuff.”
“Babe, I have to work on these plans.” Hajoon walks up behind Hansol and starts massaging his shoulders. “It’ll be such a good investment — literally — in our future. You can quit your job.”
“I like my job,” Hansol says under his breath.
Hajoon laughs a little. “We’ll talk about that later.”
Hansol starts spreading pizza sauce over the crust, letting the task soothe his frayed nerves. Hajoon finally stops digging into Hansol’s neck, kissing it before he starts whistling as he walks away. Hansol waits until he’s in the next room to roll his neck.
Hansol used to be able to stand up for himself. There was a time when he’d argue with the best of them, ten toes down, not backing off ‘til he got his way or at least met a reasonable compromise. He doesn’t know when his ability to fend for himself left. He wishes there had been a marked time that he could easily point to and learn from, but he’s realized that it was a slow, gradual receding. A million tiny compromises that slowly escalated in size until there wasn’t any part of his wants or needs left in them.
It was just easier that way, after all. Why argue when you can just let your partner get what they want? If it made them happy, why does it matter what Hansol wants?
As he sprinkles cheese on the pizza, he thinks back to when the million tiny compromises started. He can guess when he started to think that his opinion didn’t matter — or, rather, who made him think his opinion didn’t matter.
Even now, he realizes that it doesn’t matter when it started. And it doesn’t matter what he thinks. Hajoon is happy. Hansol is happy. They’re happy.
So why does he feel like he’s losing himself in this relationship, even as they take such a huge step forward together?
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
What's your go-to coffee order?
Standing in line at the coffee shop has made Hansol think of his unknown number friend and he quickly sent the question without much thought. It’s been a few days since they texted and Hansol has found himself missing the random messages throughout the day.
The answer comes almost immediately.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
an iced americano lol
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Cream? Sugar?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
nah
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Interesting
UNKNOWN NUMBER
???
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Are you perchance a murderer?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
u can’t just say perchance
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Only murderers drink plain iced coffee with nothing in it
UNKNOWN NUMBER
maybe i don’t need anything in it to enjoy it
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Who are you trying to impress?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
maybe you
Hansol realizes he’s smiling. The barista calls his name and he grabs his drink — a regular drip coffee with half and half and hazelnut syrup, thank you very much — and backs into the door as he’s typing a response with one hand.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
it’s not working
UNKNOWN NUMBER
boo
Hansol pockets his phone and turns up his music as he continues on his morning commute. He’s going to be sad when he moves into Hajoon’s apartment and immediately forces him to get a coffee maker. If Hansol is going to be singlehandedly paying their rent, Hajoon is just going to have to deal with smelling coffee every morning.
Hansol is absolutely going to miss popping into the coffee shop every morning. Maybe after he moves in with Hajoon, it can be a payday treat.
At work, Hansol sits at his desk, says hi to Seokmin, and checks some emails before looking at his phone again.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
did i ever tell you that my dream is to open a coffee shop
Hansol glances at Seokmin, making sure he’s not looking, before responding.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
I can’t believe you’d keep such a vital piece of information from me
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
In all our years of friendship…
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Smh
UNKNOWN NUMBER
lol
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
What makes you want to own a coffee shop?
Hansol responds to a few more emails and listens to a track — two out of five stars; horrible audio levels barely distracted from the awful lyrics — before checking for the response to his question. As he looks at his phone, a part of his brain flags something about the texting. It’s not a complete feeling, but something’s nagging at him about it. It’s probably weird to continue texting someone he doesn’t even know, but he’s enjoying it too much to stop. It’s been so long since he’s made a new friend. And he knows that it’s weird to think of this person as a friend but he can’t stop.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
it just seems chill.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
I doubt that
UNKNOWN NUMBER
i’d rather make lattes than respond to emails
Hansol chuckles.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
You’ve got a point
“That new artist is coming back in to do some rerecords,” Seokmin pipes up, bringing Hansol back to reality.
Hansol frowns, flipping his phone screen-down on his desk. “I thought they had everything the way they wanted it.”
Seokmin shrugs, not looking away from his computer as he quickly types something. “Guess they weren’t happy with it.”
Sighing, Hansol turns back to his computer. The morning goes by quickly, full of back-to-back meetings, moments stolen to work on tracks and respond to emails, and a recording session with a trot singer who has been working with the studio for over a decade. It’s past lunch when Hansol is able to check his phone again. No new texts from his unknown number friend, but several from Hajoon with links to new kitchen appliances, bedsheet sets, and pillows.
HAJOON<3
Since you’re moving in, it’ll be kind of like an upgrade anyway! Plus you don’t want to use my old shitty stuff and I’m sure your roommates will still need everything so you’ll have to leave it all there. LMK when you’re able to buy and I’ll be on the lookout for packages!
Hansol feels something growing in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t like the feel of it and quickly shoves it down before he has time to examine it. He spends some time going through the links, hitting “purchase” on a few of the items and texting Seungcheol to ask if he can take from their apartment whatever he can’t buy.
The new artist and his entourage of producers and vocal coaches arrive a little before their scheduled time, leaving Seokmin and Jisoo frazzled and barely keeping it together. Hansol has to glance at the event title in their shared calendar to remember what the artist’s name is.
Boo Seungkwan.
Hansol puts his headphones on, sneaking a glance at him as he does so. Everything he thought the last time is still true. He’s never seen anyone more delicate than Seungkwan.
Unfortunately, Hansol quickly realizes that the one indelicate thing about Seungkwan is how he handles recording sessions when he’s under pressure. The man can’t let anything go. Even the tiniest vocal flub that Hansol can easily fix or patch with another clip is the biggest deal ever, immediately deleted and re-recorded.
Hansol rolls his eyes as he trashes yet another section of the song. He’s glad he’s still not senior enough to ever really talk to the artists. Maybe someday, but, for now, he’s grateful for the anonymity of just being the guy behind the computer.
As one of the music execs calls a timeout to talk Seungkwan through the intention behind a phrase, Hansol takes a moment to open the chat with his unknown texting friend.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Ever work with someone so mind-numbingly annoying that you just want to quit?
He fiddles around with his computer, clicking random things to look like he’s busy as he waits for a response.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
you should kill them actually
Hansol snickers.
“Something funny?” Jisoo asks, leaning over Hansol’s shoulder.
Hansol swallows, immediately pocketing his phone. “No, sir. Sorry.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jisoo responds, his tone dead even.
It sends a chill down Hansol’s spine. Looking up, he realizes Seungkwan is staring at him with a look that says “Well?”
Hansol stares back, opening his mouth to ask what he needs when one of the suited execs speaks up from behind Hansol’s chair.
“I said, ‘are we ready to begin?’”
Hansol blinks rapidly, nods, and refocuses on his computer. He doesn’t look at his phone for the rest of the work day.
That night, Seungcheol is making spaghetti and Jeonghan is helping — in the loosest sense of the word — Hansol pack.
“Why can’t all these things go together?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense.”
“But all of your stuff has to go anyway so why does it matter what box they’re in?”
Hansol wipes a hand down his face, trying not to let Jeonghan get to him. He pulls the video game controller and candle out of the box otherwise half full of books. “These will break if the books shift in the box. You have to put like things together.”
“But they were all together on this shelf.”
Hansol starts to consider breaking his lease terms agreement early when Seungcheol calls them for dinner.
At the table, Hansol focuses on eating, trying to strategize packing in his head as he half listens to Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s conversation.
It’s continually hitting him how much he’d inwardly banked on Hajoon helping. Planning to do it on one of Hajoon’s days off, borrowing a truck from one of Hajoon’s friends, adjusting his own post-work schedule to work best with Hajoon’s — it kind of all hinges on Hajoon. And now he’s not helping anymore.
Try as he might, Hansol hasn’t been able to get it out of his brain. It’s only been a few days since Hajoon had told him about not being able to help, but it’s all Hansol has been able to think about. Even after literal days of spiraling about it, he still can’t figure out why it bothers him so much. Why does he think Hajoon owes him anything? Why does he think he deserves Hajoon’s help? Isn’t he good enough on his own? Whatever happened to self-reliance?
“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” Jeonghan asks, tone with a twinge of worry cutting through Hansol’s thoughts.
Hansol pretends to be invested in his spaghetti but glances up at Seungcheol, watching him shrug as he pokes at the food in his bowl. Hansol can’t remember the last time he’s seen such a defeated look on Seungcheol’s face. Seungcheol — the picture of reliability. It almost makes Hansol say something — to ask what’s wrong.
But Jeonghan just reaches up, putting a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder, massaging it a little as he says, “You can always come to me about stuff like that. About anything.” Seungcheol doesn’t say anything or react to Jeonghan’s hand. A moment later, Jeonghan adds, “You know that, right?”
Seungcheol finally nods slowly, then turns his head to kiss Jeonghan’s fingers as they rest on his shoulder.
Hansol averts his eyes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping over to his last exchange with his unknown number friend.
Can we be considered friends? Hansol wonders. I don’t even know his name.
He types as much, hitting send without thinking.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
I don’t even know your name, y’know
He sets his phone on the table, watching it as he eats another forkful of noodles. Three little typing dots finally appear and Hansol catches himself smiling a little.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
isn’t it more fun that way
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
How?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
you could be passing me in the street and i wouldn’t know
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
…
UNKNOWN NUMBER
i know your go-to coffee order and the thing that stressed you out at work today but not your face. how rare is that? Isn’t that kind of cool?
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Not that rare, considering I’ve met plenty of friends online but don’t know their real names
UNKNOWN NUMBER
ok but like in the grand scheme of things and if you were like a normal person with normal hobbies that didn’t involve internet brainrot
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Hey
UNKNOWN NUMBER
don’t worry i may not as chronically online as i’m betting you are but my screen time is up there
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Do you have a weird name?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
i wouldn’t say so, no
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Are you a celebrity?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
LMAO
UNKNOWN NUMBER
i wish. my student loans are killing me. but no, not a celeb.
“Who’s not a celeb?”
Hansol jerks his head up, jumping in his seat as he realizes that Jeonghan is right beside him, looking over his shoulder at his phone screen. Immediately, he turns off the screen and lays his phone on the table, screen down.
“Nobody.”
Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, then turns and sits on the table, turning his head to face Hansol, whose face is growing increasingly hotter. Jeonghan taps his fingertips on the edge of the table, looking at Hansol’s phone, then at Hansol, then at Hansol’s phone again, then at Hansol again.
Hansol pockets his phone, then leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.
Jeonghan smiles. It’s like he can hear Hansol’s heart beating wildly against his chest.
He probably can , Hansol inwardly mourns.
“But honestly,” Jeonghan says, a smile playing at his lips. “Who were you texting?”
Hansol is only able to hold eye contact with him for a few seconds before looking away. He can never hide anything from Jeonghan. Ever.
He sighs, glances towards the kitchen where Seungcheol is washing dishes, and lowers his voice. “I don’t know.”
Jeonghan’s grin grows. “What does that even mean?”
There’s a little hole in the hem of Hansol’s shirt. He starts to pick at it, pulling at one of the strings in the cotton fabric. “It was a wrong number.”
He wants to leave it at that, but after a minute, Jeonghan seems to realize that Hansol isn’t going to continue.
“And?”
“And we just… kept texting.”
When the hem of Hansol’s shirt is basically ruined, he looks up. Jeonghan is grinning. “What?” he asks. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He crosses his arms again.
“I think it’s weird.”
“Then why are you smiling like that.”
“Because it’s great. Weird and great.”
Hansol shakes his head. “It’s not like we’re friends or anything. I don’t even know their name.”
“You could be texting a twelve-year-old girl.”
“They’re not a twelve-year-old girl.”
Jeonghan taps his fingers against the edge of the table again. “You don’t know anything about them?”
Hansol shrugs a shoulder and looks away again. He wishes his face would be chill and let him be normal but, unfortunately, it’s so hot he knows he’s blushing. “Not really.”
“That’s so cool.”
“What’s cool?” Seungcheol asks, walking into the living area to grab plates from the table.
“Hansollie is making friends!” Jeonghan exclaims proudly.
“That’s so great!” Seungcheol says, looking at Hansol like it actually is.
Jeonghan starts giggling. Hansol just rolls his eyes and pushes away from the table, taking his plate to the dishwasher. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
“Have fun talking to your friend,” Jeonghan teases.
Hansol closes the door to his bedroom behind him and then collapses on his bed.
It’s weird, isn’t it? Texting someone I don’t know anything about?
He could be texting an old man looking for unsuspecting young people to harass or a depressed older married woman looking for someone to have a fling with.
Hansol pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through their entire text exchange, rereading. It’s not long. It doesn’t feel like he’s being preyed upon.
But isn’t that what all the murder documentaries start with? he muses, reading the conversation. Someone gets murdered by a friend they’d trusted after letting their guard down?
Hansol hasn’t had many friends. He’s quiet. He doesn’t do much outside of work. Most of his college friends faded into the background of his life after graduation. From his small amount of research it seems like everybody online agrees that making friends as an adult is the worst and involves too much work and energy that he’s never had.
He still doesn’t know what pulls him to keep texting the unknown number.
Except…
Part of him wonders if it’s a sign from the universe — an opportunity for a no-strings-attached friendship. They may never meet. But if Hansol can think one definitive thing about the texting, he knows it’s brought him more joy than he’d thought possible in the last few months. He can’t even put his finger on what it is about it — he just knows he always feels good after their text conversations.
He scrolls to the last few texts he’d gotten before Jeonghan interrupted.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Are you a celebrity?
UNKNOWN NUMBER
LMAO
UNKNOWN NUMBER
i wish. my student loans are killing me. but no, not a celeb.
One had come in since he’d been interrupted.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
are you?
Hansol hesitates.
Fuck it.
He starts typing.
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Maybe someday but def not today
UNKNOWN NUMBER
cool i’ll get to say i knew you before you were famous:)
HANSOL VERNON CHWE
Getting in on the ground floor fr
UNKNOWN NUMBER
look at us go
Weeks pass. Hansol moves in with Hajoon, who is nowhere to be seen on move-in day. Jeonghan moves into the apartment with Seungcheol, although Hansol is pretty sure his old bedroom is still vacant.
Texts with his unknown texting friend are infrequent but steady. They talk about hobbies and a movie that came out recently. It’s fun. Relaxing. An escape. Jeonghan doesn’t ask for updates, but Hansol catches him grinning every time he sees Hansol look at his phone. Hansol tries not to look at his phone when he’s around Jeonghan and Seungcheol.
Boo Seungkwan’s single goes viral on social media, causing an uptick in streams and purchases that they’ve never seen from a debut soloist, making the label essentially explode into chaos. All of the suited music execs immediately book every available timeslot at the studio for Seungkwan to record a “live” version of the song and a follow-up single, plus a few secret tracks they’d been workshopping that will be released if the follow-up goes well.
Jisoo focuses on other artists, leaving Seokmin and Hansol to primarily manage Seungkwan and his entourage.
“But how will we handle the label?” Seokmin says in a panicked tone after Jisoo tells them he’ll be backing off.
“It’s not like I’m leaving,” Jisoo responds. “I’ll still be here for any questions either of you may have.”
Hansol glances at Seokmin, watching as he smiles that too-bright smile he does when he’s internally spiraling and trying to save face.
“Besides,” Jisoo continues, “I trust you both. I wouldn’t be leaving this up to you if I didn’t know the two of you could handle it.”
Hansol feels something swell in his chest. He’s nervous, too, but the idea that his manager entrusts them enough to leave this budding artist to them makes him feel like they can rise to the occasion.
“Just please leave your office door open,” Seokmin says, his voice slightly strained.
Jisoo stands and pats his shoulder. “I’ll give you a key so you can get in even when it’s locked.”
He leaves and Seokmin immediately drops his forehead down to his desk. Hansol smiles, watching as Seokmin’s ears go red. After a minute, Seokmin picks his head up, glances at Hansol, rolls his eyes, and says, “Oh, shut up.”
Hansol just grins as he turns to his computer. He checks their calendar to see how long they have until Seungkwan’s next session in the booth and works on a demo he’s behind on until he has to start getting ready.
The time goes by too quickly. Before they’re really ready, Seungkwan is standing in their half of the recording booth.
By himself.
They stand as Seungkwan enters, bowing a little as Seungkwan closes the door, greeting them with a bow of his own.
Seokmin glances at the closed door, then looks at Seungkwan with a confused smile. “You’re usually surrounded by suits when you come in.”
“Oh, I booked this slot myself,” Seungkwan says. His gaze darts back and forth between them, then off to the side. He shakes the ice in his mostly empty coffee drink as the chairs they’ve brought in to accommodate the people from the label catch his eye. He looks back at Seokmin and Hansol. “Sorry; I should’ve told you.”
“No worries,” Hansol says, looking at Seokmin and giving him a slight shrug. “Please,” he adds, gesturing to one of the chairs.
They all sit. Silence falls. Hansol listens to the ice in Seungkwan’s cup shuffle as it melts. His knee starts involuntarily bouncing.
“Your label said we’d be working on the new single today?” Seokmin blurts into the silence, spinning around in his chair and clicking around on his computer to pull the track up. “We’ve got it pulled up here, but we do have a few questions about —”
“Oh, I wanted to work on… something else,” Seungkwan interrupts.
He swallows. Hansol watches him, catching him blink several times.
Interesting.
“Oh.” Seokmin turns around in his chair. He clasps his hands together and smiles. Hansol knows his mind is going haywire. “What did you want to work on?”
Seungkwan pulls out his phone, taking a sip of his watered-down coffee as he taps a few times. “I, um…” He clears his throat again. “I have a song I wrote a while ago that I wanted to work on.”
Seokmin nods. “Is this in place of the follow-up single or…?”
Seungkwan looks up at Hansol, eyes saying something Hansol can’t read, before he turns his gaze to Seokmin. “They don’t know about this.”
Hansol smiles. A secret project always made Seokmin freak the fuck out and gave Hansol the will to live. He loved a secret project more than his own boyfriend sometimes.
“What’s it about?” Hansol finally asks.
Seungkwan looks at him. Again, there’s something behind his eyes that Hansol can’t read. He looks down at his phone, taps once, and a song starts.
It’s raw and unedited. It sounds like Seungkwan recorded it in a closet, just with the mic on a pair of corded headphones. But it’s not the quality of the song that makes Hansol stare at Seungkwan’s bowed head. It’s the song’s potential.
Hansol is around music constantly. When he’s not in the studio, he’s listening to music on his commute, doing chores around the house, even quietly in the background as he hangs out with Hajoon. He knows what good music sounds like.
This is great music.
From the first note — a gentle guitar strum that quietly cascades through the background of the entire song — Hansol knows this song is special.
Then Seungkwan’s pre-recorded voice pipes through.
It sounds like he used the same mic to record the vocals, not bothering to re-record and layer over the music. It doesn’t even matter. The lyrics make Hansol’s chest tighten. He has to look away from Seungkwan. He focuses on the laces of his sneakers as he listens.
It’s like Seungkwan sliced into his head so that he could peer into his brain, reading his innermost thoughts he never shares with anyone — not even Hajoon. The song cuts deep. It’s almost painful.
“Will I ever be enough for you?” Seungkwan sings, his voice tinny over the phone speakers. “Making myself bigger ‘til I burst. Will I ever be enough for me? You never even saw me at my worst.”
The closing lyric fades into oblivion as the guitar continues until it eventually slows, then stops altogether.
They just sit there in the silence. Hansol can’t even look up, feeling completely exposed. If he does, he feels like Seungkwan and Seokmin will be able to see straight through him.
“That bad, huh.”
Hansol pulls his head up quickly, shaking his head. He’s unable to form words.
“Not at all!” Seokmin pipes up. Hansol breathes out slowly, grateful that he, at least, still has capacity for words. “It was beautiful,” Seokmin continues. “More than beautiful. Who wrote that?”
“I did,” Seungkwan answers slowly, reserved, almost as if he doesn’t want to admit it.
Hansol makes eye contact with Seokmin, knowing that he’s reeling over how rare this is just as much as Hansol is.
“Th—that’s incredible,” Seokmin finally stammers.
“Really?” Seungkwan asks, obviously not believing him.
“I mean, did you hear that?” Seokmin responds. “It’s so raw and impactful. How have you not shown the label this?”
Seungkwan glances at Hansol, then looks back at Seokmin. “I… I didn’t think they’d like it.”
“They’ll love it, trust me.”
Hansol’s voice surprises himself. He doesn’t think he’d be able to speak, but he can.
Seungkwan just stares at him, face softening a little from the worry it had been encased in. “Really?”
“Really.”
Seungkwan smiles, and it softens something inside of Hansol — something that had seized up the minute the lyrics started.
Hansol wants to look away — wants to hide himself and try to figure out how to put all of his walls back up that had been torn down by the song, leaving him exposed and bare. But he can’t look away from Seungkwan’s soft eyes. There’s something inviting in his gaze — something that welcomes the vulnerability.
“Is it that good?” Seungkwan asks him, still a little doubtful.
It’s too much. Hansol clears his throat and turns around in his chair, bringing up a new audio file to get the recording process started but mostly just to give himself something to do that doesn’t involve staring into Seungkwan’s eyes. “It’s great.”
“What makes you think it isn’t good?” Seokmin asks, standing and walking into the recording booth to get things ready.
“Someone told me it sucked,” Seungkwan slowly admits, his voice quiet.
Hansol makes eye contact with Seokmin through the glass. If there’s something they hate, it’s subjective, unproductive opinions. Hansol clenches his jaw. He can’t believe somebody said that, especially about this song.
“Who the fuck would say that?” Seokmin asks, his tone even.
Seungkwan stands. “My boyfriend.” He forces a laugh.
Hansol glances at him and Seungkwan’s laugh stops. Hansol immediately looks away. He can’t trust his own face. “Maybe you should break up with him,” Hansol says, trying to add a lighthearted tone and failing miserably.
“Maybe I should.”
The conversation ends there. Seungkwan steps into the studio and records some of the backing guitar. They work on the instrumentals for the rest of the session, Seokmin and Hansol giving pointers here and there but mostly leaving Seungkwan on his own.
They go a little over the allotted time, and Seokmin and Hansol have to rush through the end of the session. Still, they make eye contact a few times as they wrap things up, and Hansol is grateful that they both realize that something incredibly special just happened.
As Seungkwan is leaving, he hesitates a little. Seokmin stops packing up his things and taps Hansol’s shoulder. Hansol turns, notices that Seungkwan is having some kind of internal dilemma, and pauses what he’s doing.
“Can you…” Seungkwan swallows, gripping the sides of his now-empty coffee cup, clutching it for dear life as if it’s some kind of emotional support item. “When I see you next, when I’m with the label, can you not mention this, uh… side project?”
Hansol glances at Seokmin, then turns back to Seungkwan and nods, holding out his hand. Seungkwan looks confused for a second before realizing that Hansol is reaching for his cup.
“Thank you,” he says, passing it to Hansol.
“Of course,” Seokmin says. “When do you plan on telling them?”
“I want to finish it first,” Seungkwan says.
Hansol tosses his cup into the trash can under his desk, then turns back to Seungkwan. “That’s fine.”
“I’m just going to pay for these sessions myself,” Seungkwan continues. “I’ll show them the song when it’s done, if it’s any good.”
“It’ll be good,” Hansol immediately responds. Seungkwan locks eyes with him. Hansol just nods. “I promise.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t worry,” Seokmin says, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Your secret is safe with us.”
“Thank you,” Seungkwan replies, something at the edge of his voice that Hansol can’t really place. “I really mean it. This song is… really special to me.”
“It’s a really special song,” Seokmin replies. Hansol can only nod.
Seungkwan smiles a little, then opens his mouth. Before he’s able to speak, the door opens.
“What’s up, party people?!” Hajoon loudly proclaims as he enters.
Hansol forces his mouth into a smile. Seungkwan takes a step backwards, going a little rigid as Hajoon enters his personal space.
“Who’s this?” Hajoon asks, pointing at Seungkwan.
“A new artist we’re working with,” Seokmin replies, his tone flat as he picks up his empty thermos from earlier.
“I’m Hajoon,” he says, thrusting his hand out. “I’m Hansol’s boyfriend.”
Seungkwan bows his head, then glances at Hansol before looking back at Hajoon. “Seungkwan; nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Hansol spins in his chair, turning back to his computer to pull up Hajoon’s unfinished tracks.
“That’s my cue to leave,” Seokmin says. “See you tomorrow, Hansol.”
“See you,” Hansol replies.
“And we’ll see you later this week?” Seokmin asks behind Hansol’s back, presumably to Seungkwan.
“Thursday. With the label, so…”
“Your secret’s safe with us,” Seokmin replies.
Hansol closes his eyes tightly. Fuck.
“I’ll walk you out,” Seokmin offers.
“That would be great,” Seungkwan says. “Bye, Hansol.”
Hansol turns a little, waving, not able to make eye contact with Seungkwan. “Bye.”
The door closes and Hajoon plops down into Seokmin’s chair. “What secret?”
Hansol shrugs, avoiding Hajoon’s gaze as he clicks around on the computer. “I, uh, don’t know what that was about.”
“Bummer,” Hajoon mumbles loudly. “I love secrets.”
They start the recording session. The only thing that Hansol can think throughout the entirety of the session is that Seungkwan’s song is better than whatever he and Hajoon are doing right now. And he hates himself for thinking it.