Archive of Our Own

Seungkwan barely ever regrets attending a party.

He’s loud, funny and charming, and, with a bit of liquid courage, he’s also shameless, a combination that more than once let him end up in front of everyone present belting high notes to a Wonder Girls song with Seokmin and Soonyoung draped over him.

But this party is full of people he’s maybe seen once in his life and not only there’s no karaoke, but the music blasting from the speakers is some bass boosted trap house electro remix mess. For the last forty-five minutes, he’s been sitting in the same corner of the living room, right between the kitchen’s door and the arch to the rest of the house, perched on a wonky stool with a plastic cup of beer in hand. Maybe he should just go home. He had only come because he knew the birthday boy, afterall.

“Oh hey!” a voice comes, before tapping him on the shoulder. “Do I know you?”

Seungkwan turns, coming face to face with a toned chest under a tight, off-white t-shirt. He looks up and is met with an obnoxiously attractive face, with a bright, lopsided smile and carefully styled black hair. He squints a bit at the stranger. Yeah, he does look familiar. “Hello. I’m Seungkwan.”

“I’m Mingyu! Are you here on your own?”

Mingyu makes pleasant conversation, finds out it’s a birthday party he crashed, works as a cashier for a shitty fast food place but gets gigs as a model for online shops sometimes. They look familiar to each other because Mingyu is friends with Wonwoo, who works with Hansol, Seungkwan’s boyfriend, and they both hang out with Seungcheol, Jeonghan’s boyfriend who happens to be Seungkwan’s friend too. It’s a bit of a stretch to decide whether they’re friends too by osmosis, but Mingyu is a lovely person, so tipsy Seungkwan agrees to exchange numbers and follow each other on social media immediately.

They relocate to the balcony after refilling their cups and keep chatting, mostly about how they know their mutual friends and how crazy it is that they actually hadn’t run into each other earlier, considering the odds.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Mingyu says, awkward and stuttering, pink in the cheeks. He’s been trying to turn the cup into a flower but his hand eye coordination sucks. “How is, like... dating a quarter angel?”

Seungkwan laughs.

He wonders, a bit sadly, if the question had been on Mingyu’s mind this whole time, considering that’s the number one reason people he doesn’t know approach him at parties. He doesn’t think it’s the case, but there’s still a little hint of annoyance as he shrugs his shoulder and looks away, thinking Mingyu deserves some honesty. He does know Hansol after all.

“I don’t think I’ve dated enough, people or demiangels, to have a fair comparison." Seungkwan replies. "But I know Hansol has treated me better than anyone I’ve been with."

Mingyu nods, mouth open in a little ‘o’. “I guess that makes sense. Is he like your first, uh, serious relationship?”

Seungkwan squirms. “No.” He ponders for half a second about how much he wants to expose himself and decides on ‘not at all’. “Also it’s half. Hansol is half angel.”

Mingyu gasps, starting to talk about how obvious that should’ve been because his great grandma’s second husband was also a half demia, and then from there the conversation derails and they start just talking about grandparents and the topic is thankfully forgotten.

"It's been fun," he tells Mingyu, putting on his coat at the front door. "Thank you for the company." The party is still in full swing, but Seungkwan has little reason to stay longer unless it is to take advantage of free alcohol, and he doesn't feel like drinking anymore.

"Same here! Say hi to Hansol when you see him!" Mingyu waves at him at the door as Seungkwan leaves, taking out his phone to check if he can manage to catch the last bus home.

Seungkwan hasn’t been completely honest with Mingyu.

There’s plenty of stuff that makes dating a demia drastically different, even with the few experiences he’s had.

You can’t just use it as an ice breaker, though.

He’s about to slip into bed when his phone rings, much too loud in the silence of his apartment. Seungkwan groans and pouts and huffs, yet he immediately answers, as soon as he sees it’s a video call from Hansol.

“Hey you.” he greets, smiling into the camera. His phone screen freezes and flashes a couple times before a very blurred image appears on Hansol’s end. Seungkwan can kinda make out the background - Hansol’s huge, ulgy tie-dye scarf hung over his bed - but his face keeps getting warped, pixelated and lagged. Seungkwan frowns. “Is everything ok? You’re glitching like crazy.”

Hansols says something, but all that gets carried through the speakers is a stuttered sound and a screech.

Hansol once tried to explain to him why that happens, something about technology being too honest and not being able to process what doesn’t make sense. It’s why they usually text instead of calling, for as much as Seungkwan prefers the latter, and why they never video call: too much interference.

“I said, were you asleep?” Hansol tries again and the glitching dies down enough that, even if barely, Seungkwan can understand. The video stabilizes too, a bit pixelated, but good enough.

“No, I just came back from Moonbin’s birthday party. Why, did I miss a call?” Seungkwan checks his notifications, finds nothing except a bunch of likes from @min9yu_k on instagram and the in-phone health app congratulating him for reaching his goal of 10000 steps a day.

Hansol glitches a bit, and when the video stabilizes again he’s much closer than before. “No. I just woke up from a dream. I felt weird.” he says. “Wanted to check on you.”

Seungkwan thinks again about Mingyu’s question from earlier on and imagines replying differently. “The dreams are the worst,” he pictures himself saying, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I just wish I knew what to do about them.”

When they sleep together, Hansol’s dreams tend to ‘spill’ into his own. Most of the time it simply means that he dreams some weird shit which he struggles to describe once he’s awake, barely remembering it, but still, it leaves him with a strong sense of discomfort that sticks by him for the rest of the day. It feels like knowing you forgot something, but can’t pinpoint what, nor if it was something important. Like the jitters he’d have before a test he was not prepared for, like feeling someone is following you, but not seeing anything when you turn around. Hansol apologises to him every time, even if it’s not his fault, and Seungkwan has told him multiple times that it’s no big deal.

But sometimes, sometimes Hansol’s dreams get too strong, too big, and they completely take over Seungkwan. When that happens, Seungkwan wakes up screaming, cold sweat covering his body and trembling like a leaf, heart beating so hard it hurts his sternum and ribs. He’s thankful they’re usually bad enough he doesn’t remember anything, his brain completely obliterating any kind of memory of them, because the very few he remembers make him feel nauseous still.

He has no clue how Hansol deals, and every time he asks, out of curiosity and concern, he receives a tired smile and a dismissing wave of a hand. “They freak me out, but they’re just dreams.” Hansol tells him. “Don’t worry.”

But Seungkwan does, because that’s his character and because some mornings Hansol stares at the ceiling for hours, face sickenly pale and completely unresponsive, muscles pulled so tight he has scars on his palms from his nails digging in. “Sometimes they make me think something is going to happen, something I don’t know. Something bad.” Hansol had said, after a particularly ugly episode of sleep paralysis that had trapped both of them eyes open facing each other. “I know it’s stupid, not true, but the feeling carries on enough I get so anxious nothing is happening.”

Seungkwan knows that’s why Hansol called him now, because whatever happened in his head while asleep probably told him something creepy was going on.

“I’m fine, babe. Not even tipsy anymore.” Seungkwan reassures him, laying under the covers and trying to prop the phone against the lamp on his bedside table so that his hand won’t cramp holding it up. He yawns. “Was just about to go to bed.”

Hansol eyes blink and the image stutters as he looks out of frame. “Ah shit, sorry. I didn’t check the time.” he says.

Seungkwan is quick to tell him it doesn’t matter, that he can stay up for a bit longer, until he calms down enough.

“I met Kim Mingyu at the party.” he says to distract him, and it seems to work.

--***--

The thing about demia - or angel people - is that for as much as they look completely human, there will always be something off about them and they have no way of concealing it. Someone will always be able to tell there’s eldritch horror blood in them.

The first person like that Seungkwan had met was an old lady that lived in the apartment complex where his family moved into during his elementary school years. She never got out of her house if someone was around and only communicated with letters and notes. One day Seungkwan had heard a bit of commotion in the hallway outside and his curiosity got the best of him. He opened the door just enough to peek.

There, in front of her own door, stood the old lady. She had animal print slippers and a ugly patterned dress, her frame almost skeletal. She was hunched over, her back bent and then she turned around, probably hearing Seungkwan unlock the door. He can’t remember her face, not really. All he remembers is this bright light censoring it and a pair of disembodied bloodshot black eyes staring at him.

He had a pounding headache for two days.

The first time he made friends with a demia was in highschool, having failed two math tests in a row and deciding to look up a tutor to save his rapidly failing grades.

For a year, Yoon Jeonghan came to his house twice a week and stayed for an hour or so. He had long blond hair, a soft smile and a softer voice, but despite all that, it took months before Seungkwan was used enough to his presence he didn’t feel a headache coming by the end of their sessions or felt his skin prickle whenever he was looked at. They become friends between derivatives and matrices, Jeonghan confessing that most kids he tutored would cancel after two weeks. “They say I make them too uncomfortable.”

Seungkwan made a point of sticking by his side and bully every single person that tried to give him a hard time, even if it meant losing a lot of friendships because of it. He also introduced Jeonghan to Soonyoung and Seokmin, who agreed to his methods of protecting Jeonghan. Looking back at it. Seungkwan is quite ashamed, glad he managed to grow out of his teen angst. He still has anger issues a lot of the time, but doesn’t choose violence as the first option anymore.

When Seungkwan saw Hansol Vernon Chwe for the first time, years later, when he finally manages to catch up with Jeonghan and move to Seoul for university, he had brown hair and big eyes, a bright pink beanie, an oversized rainbow tie-dye sweater, jeans shorts, mismatched socks and ratty yellow converse. He was slouched on Jeonghan’s couch like he belonged there, a can of coke in hand and blinking curiously his way. Seungkwan had just survived his sixth failed attempt at a job interview and decided to visit Jeonghan so he could complain and be pitied, maybe convince him to let him have a beer, and was standing awkwardly in the entrance, only one shoe off. He remembers meeting his eyes and feeling the back of his head bloom in bright hot pain, like someone decided to stick a hot poker inside his skull to melt the back of his eyes. He staggered and tried to blink the pain away. It kind of worked, because, after a moment, he managed to actually introduce himself.

By the time Jeonghan emerged from the bathroom, the pain had subsided to a mild headache, just his eyes aching a bit still.

That night Seungkwan had his first episode of sleep paralysis ever, stuck curled on his side, facing the wall. He heard his bedroom door open and someone walked in humming Frère Jaque happily, soon slipping inside the bed to lay down behind him. Seungkwan could feel their body heat, their breath to the back of his head, hear this person sigh and then, speaking with Hansol’s voice, say: “Wake up.”

The next time Seungkwan saw Hansol, he was humming Frère Jaque and he wondered if the boy had dreamed about walking into an unfamiliar room and lay down next to an unfamiliar person.

--***--

Hansol smiles at the phone camera, all gums and nose scrunched, holding up his bubble tea cup against Seungkwan’s shoulder. He giggles, turning the screen to show off the picture. “Look, they match!” he says. And indeed, Seungkwan’s pastel pink sweater matches the color of the sugary strawberry boba order. It’s cute, the picture is cuter, and Hansol happily tapping away at his phone as he uploads it on his instagram is the cutest.

It’s a sunny day of spring and they’re out on an impromptu date, wearing matching sweaters and wandering with no set destination in mind in the park next to Seungkwan’s favorite coffee shop, where he had bought an iced americano for himself, and Hansol’s pink boba. There’s more people than they’re used to seeing around, thanks to the good weather and the opening of a new shopping mall not too far, and Seungkwan’s caught one stare too many towards his boyfriend. Maybe it’s just his imagination. Maybe he should come up with somewhere else to go.

He’s not usually aware of people when he’s with Hansol, nor does he care particularly if they’re staring: Hansol’s loyal, totally obvious and extremely pretty. Seungkwan can’t really fault people for looking his way. But the cashier at the cafe - a new face he, as a regular, had never seen - had covered her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand and gasped, high pitched, when Hansol had appeared at his side to inform of his choice of drink, while she had simply stared boringly at Seungkwan until then. Usually he’s not bothered by this kind of behaviour, Hansol having told him more than once that chewing out every single person that treated him like a walking unicorn wasn't necessary, but something in the way she kept paying him compliments, while purposefully ignoring Seungkwan, left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that had nothing to do with his perfectly sugary coffee.

“Why are you pouting?” Hansol asks, poking his cheek. “Is the americano bad?” He’s quite literally glowing, his hair getting lighter and lighter the more he stands in the sun, turning from rich brown to almost blond, and his eyes look just like amber. Maybe that’s what makes people stare.

Seungkwan shakes his head. “Nah, just thinking.” he replies, locking arms with him. “Where do you wanna go? There’s that one thrift store we always pass by that we still haven’t visited. Maybe we’ll find something good enough and you’ll get Minghao to upcycle it.”

“I'm still so confused about how you and Minghao are friends, you've never even seen each other.” Hansol laughs, bending down to leave a quick kiss to his temple. It’s warm, and the skin where Hansol lips pressed feels warm for a while, as does pretty much anywhere else they make skin contact.

Seungkwan blames the sun and the heat, after, when they’re inside the store and the palm of his hand is pink, like the gentle print of Hansol’s fingers over his knuckles. Hansol pouts, reading through the lie, but lets it go after Seungkwan reassures him it doesn’t hurt.

They buy two jeans jackets and an oversized t-shirt that says ‘baby your my angle’ in a bubbly baby blue font and made Hansol laugh hard enough he was bent in half. The man at the counter - someone that looks exactly like he’d be cast as a tired middle aged father of two in a kdrama - laughs too when he sees the shirt. “There was one of you in my big sister class.” he grumbles, a bit slurred and with a heavy Daegu accent. “Funny girl she was. Burned down her own desk once.”

Hansol refuses to hold his hand once out, and Seungkwan settles for holding onto his clothed arm instead, pouting. “Don’t do that.” Hansol whines. “It makes me wanna kiss you and I can’t now.”

He keeps his word for exactly two hours, the time to wander a bit more, have lunch and go back to Seungkwan’s flat.

Seungkwan’s got plenty of hobbies and interests, and even though he doesn’t think making out with his boyfriend can be considered neither of the previous, he sure as hell treats it like one anyway. He does his best to improve every time and take time out of the day to dedicate to it, like right now, warm and satiated, laying on his couch wrapped inside Hansol’s arms as he kisses him stupid.

He can feel his skin tingling in the wake of Hansol’s lips, feel it heat up under his hands, firmly gripping his hips under the sweater, and soon he gets uncharacteristically squirmy. When Hansol pulls back, to slow down and finally breath, he opens his mouth to say something but gets distracted.

“Holy shit.” he squeaks, voice breaking on the last syllab, as he pushes Seungkwan’s sweater out the way and they both bend to look at the very red imprint of Hansol’s hand on Seungkwan’s hip. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really… it just feels warm? Like when I forget to put enough sunscreen on my face and my cheeks get pink.” Seungkwan says. He pushes a finger into the imprint and it feels warm to the touch, but doesn’t hurt. They watch as he pulls it away and the white impression fades light pink then back to red. “This could pass for some kinky shit if people don’t know the context…” Seungkwan laughs, making Hansol whine and hide his flushed face behind his hands.

“What if it doesn’t fade by tomorrow?” he asks, genuinely concerned. His hands are now firmly gripping the top of his thighs, flexing with the need to touch but the fear of doing so. “Your face…”

Seungkwan blinks, hands coming to poke and rub at his cheeks and jaw. “What about it?”

Hansol goes even more pink and takes out his phone to snap a quick picture of him. Beside the obvious unflattering angle and slight blur, Seungkwan first chokes then laughs again at it: he’s covered in the light marks of Hansol’s lips pretty much everywhere, but mostly along his jaw and high on his neck, where it’s just a messy red splotch. His lips are bright red as well, like he’s eaten spicy food. It’s hilarious, even if Hansol looks like he might die of embarrassment at any moment.

“Take more pictures.” he says, laying back down and stretching his arms over his head in a way that makes his sweater hitch up even more.

Hansol almost drops his phone with how fast he tries to get back to the camera app.

--***--

Seungkwan runs into Seungcheol in the mall, quite literally. He turns a corner, head bent to text Hansol a funny meme and collides with the brick wall of Seungcheol chest.

“Oh shit, hi.” Seungcheol laughs, grabbing Seungkwan’s arms to steady him.

“Why are you still going to the gym, there’s no reason for you to be this big.” Seungkwan groans, rubbing the point of his nose. “You even managed to manipulate Hansol into coming with you and now his t-shirts are a personal attack to my person.” Seungcheol blinks, clearly taken aback. They have been around each other enough for him to know that Seungkwan is only teasing, and Seungkwan almost wants to push him a bit more, like Jeonghan has taught him, before deciding against it and breaking into one of his charming smiles. “Are you shopping alone like me?”

Seungcheol nods and they decide to stop at one of the cafes inside the mall to sit and chat, catching up on the latest gossip and news, checking up on what’s going on with one another. It takes less time than he thought for them to breach the topic of boyfriends, thanks to Jeonghan calling Seungcheol while he was in the middle of telling a very funny story involving Hansol and a bug.

“Sorry, I went out while he was napping and he didn’t see the note I left him.” He says, like Seungkwan can fill in all the other blank spaces around that sentence.

And the funny thing is, Seungkwan does.

He knows that probably Jeonghan had a creepy dream that left him confused and scared when he woke up, that he thought something had happened to Seungcheol because of it, and that he wasn’t awake enough to calm down and find the note.

So he nods with a small smile on his lips. “Hansol does that too sometimes.”

“This one time he woke me up in hysterics demanding I show him my hands. I don’t think he was even aware he was doing it, but calmed down only after he had thoroughly inspected them.” Seungcheol leans in, eyes round and amused, smiling big enough you could see his gums. “Said my fingers were going to fall off like teeth.”

“Creepy.” Seungkwan commented, faking a full body shiver. “One night Hansol started muttering numbers, just… numbers. One after the other. He sounded like his voice was coming from a radio. I wrote them down somewhere trying to see if it was some code, but came up empty.”

“Did you ever wake up and found he had his eyes open? Just… staring, no reactions?” Seungcheol asks and when Seungkwan nods, hard enough he hits his chin on the straw poking out of his drink, he crackles. “The first time it happened I almost shat myself, he was sitting up too…”

“The first time we slept in the same room he sleepwalked.” Seungkwan adds, patting Seungcheol’s hand for emphasis. “I didn’t think there was anything off at first because, you know how he is sometimes, yeah? So I was chatting and it wasn’t until my ears started ringing badly that I realized oh shit.”

They trade off stories, excited and giddy, and Seungkwan is introduced to a side of Jeonghan he never thought about. Seungkwan manages to get into a funny story about both Jeonghan and Hansol, but at some point Seungcheol’s eyes unfocus and start wavering. He finishes without mentioning anything, not wanting nor knowing if it would be ok for him to.

“I’m sorry if this is, like, awkward,” Seungcheol interrupts a handful of minutes later, while Seungkwan was recalling an unrelated story from his repertoire, one all his friends had listened to a nauseating number of times but he still insisted on telling anyway. “But I’ve never really been able to talk about all this to someone else beside Joshua and Hansol…”

Seungkwan rushes to reassure him that nothing about what he said is awkward or weird, and that he understands the feeling well. “I never really thought about it, but I haven’t talked about this to anyone… at all...” he realizes, a little startled by the revelation himself. He’s talked about Hansol with his friends, enough that they had begged him to stop at one point - but never about all the things that made Hansol, well, himself. Sure, sometimes he mentions Hansol video calls glitching, or him getting sleep paralysis, but never about the dreams or the scary nights, not about the glowing and heating up, not about the voices and everything else that would make little sense to anyone who wasn’t in the same spot Seungcheol and him are.

They stare at each other in silence for a moment, Seungkwan sipping his iced americano, while Seungcheol scrapes the remains of his ice-cream, until the radio plays a Wonder Girl song and Seungkwan starts fanboying so hard they’re asked to leave.

--***--

Seungkwan has been friends with Soonyoung and Seokmin since before any of them learnt how to walk.

This also means they’ve always had front seats to Seungkwan’s personal life, from his first public embarrassment - tripping on his shoelaces and ending up face first into a puddle right outside his middle school where everyone was looking at him might seem funny now, but he felt like crying for days when it had happened - to his first real heartbreak - sometimes he wonders if it’s appropriate that he still feels nothing but satisfaction knowing Soonyoung and Seokmin keyed his cheating ex’s car, twice.

Their involvement reached a new high when they basically started Seungkwan and Hansol relationship - or so it’s how Seungkwan tells the story.

“I say you like like him.” Soonyoung said, out of the blue, mouth full, Seokmin nodding furiously next to him.

They had gone out together to watch a movie and decided to stop by a McDonald's on the way back to their homes, despite Seungkwan’s complaining that he just promised himself to cut down on junk food for the rest of the year. He had settled for a small box of chicken nuggets, and looked up from the food to frown at Soonyoung. “Who?”

“Hansol.” his friends said in unison, matching tried expressions on as if they had had this conversation a thousand times already.

Seungkwan almost choked on a nugget. “Don’t.” he hissed. “He’s just a friend of a friend of a friend. You saw him, like, twice.”

“A friend of a friend of a friend who’s hot as fuck and can’t stop staring at you every time you’re in the same space-time?” Seokmin pointed out, Soonyoung echoing every other word for emphasis.

“Hansol doesn't stare at me.” Seungkwan huffed, stuttering a little bit. His stomach dropped immediately, knowing well his friends caught him slipping and they would definitely know he’s kinda lying.

Seungkwan knew Hansol stared at him sometimes. He knew because he caught him a couple of times, and every time he just blinked, nodding. He thought Hansol wanted to ask him something, but the boy just smiled bright and said something completely ridiculous - “Do you have lip tint on? It looks nice.” and “The sweater makes you look soft.” and even “You’re so pretty.”. He laughed awkwardly and waved away the compliments with a hand, not thinking much of them. Refusing to think much of them.

Hansol was funny, interesting and extremely charming, but Seungkwan had never thought about him more than he had thought about any of his other friends, mostly because romance was the least of his concerns at the time, between having bitten off more than he could chew in university and juggling a job and a half on top of it.

But at that time, pinned in place by the twin stares of his best friends, who were listing all the times they had seen Hansol stare at him when he wasn’t looking, he let himself indulge in the idea of becoming something more than friends. Just for a moment.

“Holy shit, you’re blushing.” Soonyoung squealed, loud and obnoxious, clapping his hands. “You do like like him!”

Seungkwan hid his face in his hands, hoping no one in the room was listening, as Soonyoung and Seokmin started planning out Seungkwan’s imaginary relationship with Hansol, from their first date to their wedding and the three children that they were obviously going to adopt and name after the two of them and Jeonghan.

“I’m not asking him out.” Seungkwan groaned, hand closed in a fist in front of his face, tight and ready to strike: he didn’t feel like being teased and he had punched Soonyoung for much less.

They thankfully dropped the whole thing, but the idea nestled in his head, and Seungkwan couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When he saw Hansol again - Jeonghan had invited them to hang out at his flat while he waited for Seungcheol to come back from work - he was extremely aware of every single movement and glance, of how he sat and talked and smiled and even how he remembered Seungkwan’s coffee order, and Seungkwan couldn’t help but be distracted for the whole night. He tried to cover up his awkward behaviour, but he knew he failed the moment Jeonghan cornered him into the bathroom just as he was about to step out.

“What did he do?” Jeonghan asked, squinting. “Hansol’s one of the most harmless people I’ve ever met in my life - and I’m friends with Joshua Hong.”

“Aren’t you a little more than friends with him, hyung?” Seungkwan commented, hoping it was distraction enough he could slip by and rush out. It was not. Jeonghan backed him against a wall and placed both hands by his head in an amusing parody of a silly shoujo manga kabedon move.

“Don’t try to change the topic.” Jeonghan said, shaking his head to get his long hair out his eyes. He didn’t have it reach past his shoulders anymore, cut short and dyed back to his natural dark brown, but still long enough to frame his face nicely.

Seungkwan tried to slip away by ducking under an arm, but Jeonghan put up a foot as well to block his way out. “He didn’t do anything, I promise - can I go now?”

“Then why are you being weird around him?” his friend asked, keeping the ridiculous pose even after Seungkwan slouched down, defeated. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. And don’t think he hasn’t either.”

Seungkwan’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He didn’t want Hansol to feel weird because his friends had put stupid ideas in his head and he felt like squirming every time he was too close to him. He didn’t want Hansol to misunderstand and maybe think Seungkwan was uncomfortable in his presence, or that he was keeping something from him because he was scared of talking it out.

But he also couldn’t really go and tell him ‘Hey my friends are assholes and said I like you and now I can’t stop thinking about it.’ So he told Jeonghan instead.

“I don’t think you like him.” Jeonghan said, completely out of character. He would never pass a chance to double down on the teasing and probably team up with Soonyoung and Seokmin to make Sewungkwan’s life hell with the new ammunition he had been handed, so Seungkwan frowned at him, hard. Jeonghan rolled his eyes, finally pulling back. “I mean, he’s nice and very, very pretty. But you don’t start liking someone just because someone else said you might.”

Seungkwan blinked. That was awfully mature and sincere from his hyung, and at that moment he was rightfully terrified. He didn’t know if Jeonghan was planning something even worse than teasing him, or actually just offering sincere insight to the situation. Looking at his face revealed nothing, because he had always been a bastard with a perfect poker face that could probably scam people into thinking he’s Korea’s Prime Minister with him present and protesting. So he just pulled himself up and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right…” he said, and watched as Jeonghan smiled and pulled him into a hug.

“Good! Happy he wasn’t being a dick to you.” Jeonghan said, an arm over Seungkwan’s shoulder as they walked out the bathroom.

Hansol was still sitting in the same position Seungkwan had left him in when he had fled to the bathroom, eyes glued to the TV as a deep ocean documentary was playing. He offered a kind smile when he noticed they’re back and Seungkwan made an effort to reciprocate without looking strained.

He forgot about the whole exchange until a week later, when the three of them got together again, that time with Seungcheol, Soonyoung and Seokmin as well. They had filled their stomachs with ramyun and meat, graciously offered by the oldest, and then decided to play a very amusing game of never have I ever, where they found out Seokmin had once kissed a bunch of frogs hoping they’d turn into a prince, Seungcheol was a little spoon, Soonyoung and Seokmin had recreated and recorded the opening scene of a crappy porn video (apparently, Seokmin qualified as a twunk) and send it to their friend Minghao by mistake, and Jeonghan owned lingerie.

As the screams (Seokmin, Hansol and Soonyoung) died down, and people (Seuncheol and Seungkwan) came up from behind their hands with their faces red, Jeonghan smirked as he filled his glass again and raised it up. Seungkwan felt like he missed a step walking downstairs just as his hyung opened his mouth, and then watched in horror as from his lips came out: “Never have I ever thought about wanting to date someone in this room.”

There was a bit of chaos as Seungcheol gasped and started arguing that what Jeonghan said wasn’t valid, as he was very much dating Seungcheol at that moment, but Jeonghan replied that it was, because they were already dating so why would he be wanting to date him if he already was?

Seungkwan looked down at his glass trying to see if in his peripheral vision he could see someone else about to drink too. He was sitting between Soonyoung and Seokmin, who weren’t even holding their glasses, right in front of him there was Jeonghan, Seungcheol on his right and Hansol on his left, who was laughing. Seungkwan thought: fuck it.

As he tilted his head back and swallowed the alcohol, his eyes locked with Hansol, who was doing the exact same thing.

All hell broke loose, his ears ringing by how hard Soonyoung screamed at him and then at Hansol, who was being cooed at by both Seuncheol and Jeonghan.

“Never have I ever thought about dating Boo Seungkwan, go!” Seokmin shouted over the ruckus, pointing a finger to Hansol who looked genuinely taken aback, eyes big and panicked. The shot glass exploded in his hand, pieces flying around.

“Oh shit.” Jeonghan gasped, immediately taking Hansol’s hand in his and asking Seungcheol to go get the first aid kit.

Seokmin recoiled, a hand on his mouth as he told Hansol he didn’t want to spook him and was just playing along, scooting close to the boy and starting to carefully collect the glass pieces on the floor.

“It’s ok, it’s just a little cut.” Hansol said, holding a tissue to his palm. “Sorry about that.”

They managed to quickly clean everything up, Seungcheol neatly patching up Hansol’s cut and covering it with a cute pastel pink band aid. Thankfully it wasn't deep or long, and no one else had been hurt, but they decided to call it a night, dividing the few leftovers between those who wanted them. Soonyoung and Seokmin left first with Seungcheol, who offered to drive them home, while Jeonghan insisted for Hansol and Seungkwan to sleep over, despite both of their houses being within walking distance.

They ended up dragging the spare room mattress into Jeonghan’s bedroom and they played rock paper scissors to decide who slept where. Seungkwan got the single mattress and Jeonghan and Hansol the double bed. Seungcheol ended up with the couch just because he wasn’t present.

Seungkwan was almost asleep when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He rolled on his back and looked up to see Hansol lying down on the edge, face pillowed over his crossed hands. “I’m sorry you had to find out like that.” he whispered, but his voice echoed clear into Seungkwan’s head, as if he was speaking directly into his brain.

“What?” Seungkwan asked.

Hansol twisted back, probably checking that Jeonghan was fast asleep. “That I like you.” he said, speaking it against the mattress, not meeting Seungkwan’s eyes, shy and pink cheeked. “I have been thinking about telling you, but it never felt like the right time.”

Seungkwan felt his face on fire immediately. He trailed the pad of his fingers, cold from the night air and being stuck outside the covers, over his cheeks and as expected they were burning. He tried to look everywhere but at Hansol, knowing he’d be a stuttering mess otherwise. “I’m sorry the hyungs made you uncomfortable like that, they’re a bunch of nosy assholes.”

Hansol managed not to laugh, just scrunched his nose and broke into a gummy smile. “It’s ok, it was bound to happen anyway sooner or later.” he whispered, picking at a stray thread from the blanket covering Seungkwan. “Uhm, can I ask if it was me? The one you thought about dating?”

“Yeah.” Seungkwan answered, feeling it pointless and even a bit self-sabotaging to lie at that point, really. “Soonyoung and Seokmin mentioned it once and it... stuck.” He bit his bottom lip. “I like you too.”

“I’ll have to thank them, then.” Hansol said into a yawn. He wiggled a bit, finding a comfortable position with his arm out, hand resting just beside Seungkwan’s.

Seungkwan turned toward him and reached out to hold it.

Three weeks later he had to sit through a whole dinner where Soonyoung and Seokmin had managed to find a thousand ways to rephrase ‘I told you’ for two hours, to pay for their meal and the karaoke room they had decided to go to next and finally to swear they were going to be his best men at his wedding.

--***--

Hansol invites Wonwoo, Mingyu and Seungcheol over on his day off. He gets unexpectedly held off past his work hours, though, so Seungkwan’s the one taking care of the guests, even if he wasn’t invited and this isn’t his house. Mingyu greets him with a big, warm hug, taking him a bit by surprise as they hadn’t really seen each other much since that one birthday party some months before. “Where’s hyung?” he asks, metaphorically wagging his tail as he looks around the flat. “Jihoon hyung?”

Jihoon appears behind a corner, one hand up with a finger wiggling towards Mingyu already. “No, stay. Be a good boy.” he says, not unlike one would do with a dog, trying his best - and failing with a groan - to avoid getting pulled in a hug.

“They always do that.” Wonwoo comments, shaking his head. “You’re Seungkwan, right? I think Hansol has a picture of you printed and hung at his workstation.”

Wonwoo works as a radio host for a late night programme about crime fiction books and stories, while Hansol works as a sound tech, mostly during his hours, and Seungkwan knows and has talked before to Wonwoo, but only saw each other once, from afar, when he surprised Hansol by picking him up from his shift. He’s always been a nice, polite guy, but it feels weird having him around in the flesh, as if he was supposed to exist only as a disembodied voice coming from a speaker (Seungkwan isn’t a fan of creepy stories, but Wonwoo’s music interludes are nice and his voice is pretty and soothing, so he’s become an avid listener after tuning in just out of curiosity). Seungkwan blushes, smiling shyly. “Ah, really? He never said. Hope it’s not embarrassing.”

“There’s an orange sticker on top of your head, it’s cute.” Wonwoo shrugs with a smile, glasses slipping down his nose with the movement. He lets them take off their shoes and hang their jackets, fussing around until they accept a drink and a bowl of chips. Mingyu has already managed to rope both Wonwoo and Jihoon in a Mario Kart match, and Seungcheol and Seungkwan watch amused from the side while they wait for both Hansol and the dinner to arrive.

“How’s hyung?” Seungkwan asks with a smile, as he clinks his bottle with Seungcheol.

“Good.” Seungcheol replies after taking a sip. “He’s been having trouble sleeping properly lately but it seems to have calmed down. Funnily enough, when Shua moved in.”

Seungkwan gasps, patting his hyung on the arm. “I’m so happy to hear that! You’ve been trying to get him into your spare room for months...” he says, cheeks pushed up so much by his smile he can barely see. “How are you three settling down?”

Seungcheol smiles back, trying to look unbothered, but definitely ending up looking completely smitten. “As well as you can expect from getting two demias in the same place for a prolonged period of time. It’s a miracle they haven’t exploded the pillows by accident again, honestly.”

Seungkwan laughs, remembering the story he had heard from Jeonghan and Joshua themselves. “Serves you right for dating two of them!”

“Don’t speak as if dating just one is any weirder.” Jihoon speaks up, still engrossed in the game but not enough to not eavesdrop, apparently. “Your pretty boy exploded two lightbulbs last week.”

Seungkwan pokes Jihoon’s side with a foot, scoffing. “Don’t call my boyfriend weird!”

“I’m allowed to! I live with him!” Jihoon laughs, before he groans as he gets too distracted and his character falls off the path, making him lose the round.

“Speaking of your boyfriend and hyung’s roommate, where is he?” Mingyu asks, and Seungkwan is quick to take out his phone and check if he has any news of Hansol. The last message they exchanged was fifteen minutes ago, left on read, but there was a new one, this time from Jeonghan. It was a three second audio and without thinking much of it, Seungkwan hits play.

A high pitched, distorted screech comes out from the speakers at full volume and everyone in the room recoils, Seungkwan dropping his phone like it was burning hot. It hits the ground as the audio stops.

“What the fuck?!” Jihoon supplies, ever so eloquently.

“I don’t know, I always keep the volume low.” Seungkwan answers, a hand on his chest and the other reaching down, hoping that he didn’t crack his screen. His phone is intact, but it takes him two tries to unlock it, his lock screen glitching. “It was Hannie hyung…”

“Hannie?” Seungcheol echoes, blinking. He takes out his phone as well and his eyes widen. He quickly taps on the screen and stands up, heading towards the door to the balcony. They hear him call Joshua’s name before he closes the door behind himself, and the keypad at the front door chimes just as Seungkwan was thinking of going after him.

Hansol walks in, a small bag from the convenience store in his hands. He lets out a long sigh before greeting everyone with a smile. “Sorry, got held up at work.” he says, toeing off his shoes and walking straight to Seungkwan, bending down to kiss the top of his head. “Brought ice-cream to apologise.”

Seungkwan tells the other to start setting up for dinner, while he hurries Hansol to the kitchen so he can put the ice-cream in the freezer and tell him about Jeonghan’s message. Hansol makes a funny face, lips pulled tight and brow furrowed. “He’s going to be fine.” he says, patting Seungkwan’s shoulder. “I think he’s just too stressed and can’t really control it as well as he would.” It’s not a satisfactory answer, but Seungkwan has to take it for what it is.

Mingyu takes over the kitchen with Jihoon and they decide to flee before being roped into helping out, a task that falls on Wonwoo instead. Once back in the living room, they see Seungcheol slouched down on the couch, zapping through channels on the tv, expression unreadable but jaw clenched tight. “He had another nightmare. Shua was in the shower and didn’t hear him wake up.” he tells them, quiet. “I think the message was supposed to be for me, sorry. Our names are next to each other in his phone, apparently.”

Seungkwan feels Hansol's hand grip his knee tightly and he wonders what is his boyfriend thinking.

“Season’s change is a bitch.” Hansol says, and everyone nods in sync. It’s a dumb enough image that it makes them laugh, loud and easy.

--***--

It’s been almost two years since he and Hansol started going out, and Seungkwan has been at his house enough times he knows all of his neighbours, unlike Hansol himself, who remembers maybe three of them on a good day.

He greets the kind ajumma that lives on the first floor, who usually would always be returning from taking out the trash just as Seungkwan left Hansol apartment in the morning, and he still believes she did that on purpose to watch him squirm, because she had stopped doing it the moment he confirmed that, yes, he was the nice demia kid on the third floor’s boyfriend and not just a passing fling. She makes small talk as Seungkwan waits for the elevator, the warm weather apparently the talk of the town.

“You should bring your boyfriend out for a date!” she nags, patting Seungkwan’s arm.

The elevator dings and Seungkwan tries not to look too relieved. “I’ll see if he has any clean clothes and I just might drag him out today!” he replies, smile wide and polite, before disappearing inside the elevator doors and thanking no one else has to take it, so it’s a smooth ride to the third floor.

He lets himself in, pad chiming happily as he enters the code. “It’s me!” he calls, taking off his shoes and hanging his jeans jacket by the entrance. The flat is in dim shade, curtains drawn in front of the windows, and there’s music coming from Hansol’s room. A head pops out from the bathroom door and Jihoon, Hansol’s roommate, greets him with a silent nod and a toothbrush in his mouth before disappearing back inside without waiting for Seungkwan’s answering wave.

Hansol’s room is big just enough for a twin bed, a desk and a closet. He’s put down one of those fuzzy carpets that collect dust and are a nightmare to clean, filled the walls with posters and a couple shelves where kpop albums and indie singers CDs coexist, hung a mirror by the door after Seungkwan bugged him for months, and changed the ratty curtains that came with the flat with the ones Seungkwan bought for him. The door is open, but Seungkwan knocks anyway before stepping inside. Hansol is lying on the bed, head bopping to whatever his stereo is playing (all Seungkwan can make out is that it’s rap and it’s in english) as he scribbles down on a notebook, and for a moment Seungkwan thinks he hasn’t heard him, but he scoots over and pats the little space on the bed next to him. Seungkwan smiles and lies down, half on top of his boyfriend, chin hooked on his shoulder and a hand on his ass, just because he can.

“Hello you.” he greets, patting Hansol’s back pocket.

“Hi,” Hansol answers, tongue caught between his teeth as he finishes writing down a sentence and then closes the notebook in favour of rolling over and pulling Seungkwan against his chest. “Missed you.”

Seungkwan blows a raspberry. “You saw me yesterday, silly.” he says. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Writing down some english lyrics suggestions for Jihoon hyung.” he replies. “Someone on the internet told him his song wouldn’t sound as good in english, for whatever reason, and, again for whatever reason, he’s not gonna sleep until he’s finished an english version and proved them wrong.” He says the last part louder, looking towards the door. They hear something coming from the other room, probably a curse, and they both giggle.

“Wanna go out? I know we said Netflix and chill, but the weather is really nice.” Seungkwan offers.

“We’re not chilling with hyung in the house.” Hansol grimaces. “I’m sure he lets you sleep over only because you’re, like, his favourite or something.”

“Last week you said his favourite was Chan from Soonyoung hyung’s dance class.”

“Last week hyung had beef with Soonyoung hyung and said that to piss him off.”

Seungkwan gasps, pushing himself up and staring Hansol down. “How dare your friends have beef with my friends?!” he punctuates each word with a finger in Hansol’s ribs, poking him over and over until he breaks into laughter, clear and loud, rolling on his side and curling up in a futile attempt at protecting his flanks.

When he emerges, tears in his eyes and cheeks pink, he’s glowing, hair tinted golden and eyes sparkling just as bright.

Seungkwan loves him.

He knows he does.

He hasn’t said it yet, hiding it in quick kisses and caresses, in the way he’s bought Hansol a toothbrush, a towel, a bathrobe, slippers, and has cleared a drawer for the clothes he keeps misplacing or forgetting in his apartment, in how he nags him about vitamins and exercising but never turns down snacks, ice-cream or junk food if he’s offering. Every time he feels the words bubbling up his throat, he starts singing one of Hansol’s songs in their shared playlist, or buys something for him out of impulse. He has a whole hidden account where he puts little trinkets that reminds him of Hansol, so that he can just buy them whenever he’s about to confess and not be found out when Hansol uses his devices.

He knows it’s not a good coping mechanism, but he decided he isn’t telling him first. Not because he’s scared Hansol might not say it back: he doesn’t really care about that. Hansol is gentle, kind and reliable, and he cannot even think he could find anyone better.

It’s just a stupid promise he’s made himself after his last break up, a silly superstition he has that if he’s the first saying it, he’s gonna be left soon.

So, now that he feels like saying it, he swallows it down and just cups Hansol’s face in his hands, pulling him in for a kiss, slow and deep. Hansol melts into it, lets Seungkwan hold him and push him around until they’re both comfortably laying on their side, Hansol’s hands fisted in Seungkwan’s shirt, clenching every time Seungkwan does something with his tongue that he likes.

“Wow, you two are disgusting.” Jihoon’s voice comes. He’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, but nothing in his expression matches his words if the fond smile he’s got is any indication.

Hansol pouts when Seungkwan pulls back to reply. “You’re just mad no one wants to suck face with you.”

“Yeah, usually they want to suck something else.” Jihoon jokes and beaks into a wider smile as both Seunkwan and Hansol groan. “Come with me, let’s go buy stuff for dinner. I’ll cook. You two can even get candy.”

--***--

“Wait.”

Seungkwan groans as Hansol places a hand in the middle of his chest and pushes him to lie down, thighs trembling as they’re spread wider over his waist. He breathes in slowly, eyes closed, his hands resting lightly on the top of Hansol’s thighs, feeling them tremble and shift as he sits still on Seungkwan’s cock.

They’ve left a light on, Hansol’s blue lava lamp on his bedside table, which casts prettily over Hansol’s skin, catches in his eyes brightening them up, almost reflective. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that has happened while they were having sex. Hansol had been adamant on keeping on one of Seungkwan’s oversized sweaters, a v neck knit pullover in his favorite shade of navy, having put it on right as Seungkwan had gotten rid of it while they were undressing. Seungkwan isn’t really a fan of fucking when clothing is involved, especially his own, but Hansol had looked up at him, soft and coy, as he sat down on the bed dressed in sweater paws and the hem riding high on his tights, and he gave in quickly.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Seungkwan says, pushing himself on his forearms to look up at Hansol.

Hansol huffs, grinding his hips slowly once, twice, before stopping again. “Literally?” he asks, but doesn’t really need an answer if the way he looks down against the clear imprint of his hand lingers right over Seungkwan’s heart.

“And figuratively.” Seungkwan answers anyway.

Hansol drags his nails down over his pecs, stopping to pinch a nipple on his way to hear Seungkwan hiss at him. He watches his hands leave trails and fingerprints all over his skin,

Seungkwan has been good and hasn’t moved again, despite this being the second time he’s been asked to stop and it’s getting very, very hard - pun intended - for him not to move and chase after his release.

“You’re beautiful.” he tells Hansol, because it’s true. I love you, he thinks, for the same reason.

Hansol hums, nodding in agreement, and he pretends it means I love you too.

Seungkwan wraps his hands over Hansol’s hips and plants his feet firmly on the bed, slowly, so that he doesn’t risk feeling too harsh inside of him. He leans in to kiss him while he waits for the other, plays slow and sweet with his lips and tongue, whispering words of encouragement and telling him how pretty he is and how good he feels. Hansol smiles sheepishly, returns the compliments, and slowly starts to ride Seungkwan again.

But Seungkwan doesn’t let him move for long, stilling his hips and pulling him up until only the tip of his cock is still in, and then starts fucking up into Hansol with long, hard thrusts that have him moaning Seungkwan’s name immediately.

He comes an embarrassingly short time later, holding Hansol down against his hips until he trembles with oversensitivity, Hansol fisting his cock and clenching around him as he comes as well not too long after, his face open and slack in a silent moan.

“So good, baby, so good.” Hansol murmurs, kissing all over Seungkwan’s face, his eyes, nose, cheeks, chin and lips. His eyes are so bright when he opens them again, and his skin is on fire, every point of contact with Seungkwan feeling almost unbearably warm.

Seungkwan pulls out slowly, careful to tie and throw away the condom before reaching into the bedside drawer for wet wipes and some tissues. They clean up quickly, showering together and then changing Hansol’s bed. Seungkwan doesn’t know how Hansol managed not to stain the sweater, but made a mess of the sheets instead. He borrows a pair of sweatpants and a graphic tee, slipping in beside his boyfriend with a content sigh.

Hansol’s bed isn’t made for two people, and it always takes them a while before they find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep in - usually Hansol on his back and Seungkwan mostly on top of him, head tucked into the crook of his neck.

“You’re about to say we should do this more often.” Seungkwan murmurs, hoping his eye roll can be heard, since he has no intention of opening his eyes.

Hansol blows a raspberry, tongue out. “Well, it’s just it always feels very good when you’re inside.” he says. “But also you’ve got like, the best ass ever on earth so I kinda forget about that when all I can think is how good it feels when I’m inside.”

Seungkwan laughs. “Same. But now sleep before we start something neither of us can finish.”

--***--

Seungkwan wakes up, promptly forgetting what he was dreaming about. He’s curled up on his side, facing the far wall where he makes out the dark shape of the door left ajar. His eyes struggle to put things into focus, just how his brain seems to have trouble working at a decent pace. He reaches back blindly with one hand, intending on bothering Hansol enough for him to wake up and turn around to spoon him again, but his hands meet nothing but the chilly sheets.

He frowns, leaning against his forearm to prop himself up enough to look and confirm Hansol’s nowhere to be found. He listens for a moment, thinking he's probably either taking a piss or puttering about in the kitchen for a glass of water, but everything is silent.

A sudden sense of dread makes him shiver and he feels suddenly very awake when he realizes that there is literally no sound at all. Not the rustle of the sheets, not the road outside, not even the usual creaks and groans of the house. He jerks, looking around wide eyed.

Hansol is standing in a corner of the room, facing the walls, unmoving.

Seungkwan swallows. "Hansol?" he calls, but almost doesn't hear himself. His voice comes muffled, as if he had spoken underwater, and with half a second delay.

He sits on the bed, wrapping his arms around himself. He's shivering, his skin cold to the touch as he rubs his hands over it. "Hansol, it's freezing. Come back to bed."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he hears them whispered back to him, over and over, almost like speaking directly into his head, and it takes him a moment to realize it's Hansol voice. The whispering doesn't stop, only gets louder inside his head, as he stands up and very carefully covers the little distance between the bed and Hansol.

He feels the floor vibrate under his feet in two seconds intervals and Hansol's figure blurs in time with it.

"Hansol?"

The vibrations stop, the whispering stops.

Hansol twitches.

"Hansol?" he echoes, his voice low and rough, raspy as if he had a sore throat.

Seungkwan holds out a hand, but the moment it touches Hansol's shoulder there's a loud snap, like a whip cracked in mid air, and Seungkwan stumbles forward, almost smacking his head into the corner. He freezes, feeling a presence behind. There's a light behind him too, now, projecting his shadow on the corner, flickering, getting brighter and brighter.

Seungkwan's ears start ringing, his eyes sting so much he needs to close them and curl up into the corner, bracing himself tight, hands over his ears and head tucked in his knees as the ring turns into a whistle, like a kettle boiling, and then it stops, as the sound of a body falling on the floor overpowers it.

Seungkwan can hear the world again, his shuddering breath, a car passing by somewhere not too far, the faint mumble of a TV left on in an apartment underneath. He opens his eyes slowly, still wary. The room is dark, except for the light coming from the lamp posts outside filtering in through the window, curtains left open.

He slowly turns, and his breath gets caught in his throat.

Hansol is laying on the ground on his back, limbs sprawled.

He rushes to his side, panic rising until he can feel the steady thump thump thump of his heart under the palm of his hand as he places it on his chest, his breath tickling his ear as he bends to listen. A sigh of relief slips past his lips and he gently shakes his boyfriend by the shoulder. “Baby, wake up.” he murmurs.

Hansol frowns, slowly waking. Eyes unfocused, he turns his head around, trying to get his bearings, until he sees Seungkwan on top of him and squints. “Kwanie?”

Seungkwan would love to shout at him, shove him hard and reprimand him for the scare, but Hansol doesn’t look like he’s all there so he shoves all that to the back of his mind and helps the boy up to his feet. Hansol’s skin is icy cold under his touch and when Seungkwan slips in bed beside him, he’s shivering hard enough his teeth clatter.

“Come here.” Seungkwan murmurs, pulling him into a big hug and rocking him gently.

He wakes up in the morning to Hansol thrashing around until he startles himself awake, sitting up and pulling the covers with him. Seungkwan almost falls off the twin bed, catching himself by clutching to Hansol.

"Are you ok?" he asks, lamely, because that's the first thing that comes to mind. He knows Hansol is not ok.

Hansol clutches to him like a scared child to their mother's skirt, his breathing slowed down and his eyes not as wild as they were a moment ago, but still wide open. "Sorry, sorry…" he apologises. "I don't- I can't remember."

Seungkwan hums, pulling him back down and cuddling closer, head on his shoulder. "You sleepwalked. It scared the shit out of me." he says. "You fell on the floor, does anything hurt?"

Hansol frowns, shakes his head. One hand comes to pat at Seungkwan's side. "No, I'm… just my head?" he swallows, staying quiet for a bit. "Yeah, I have a headache… or so I think. It’s okay. I'm okay."

Seungkwan pushes himself up a bit, stares down at his boyfriend. "Hansol."

"It'll pass." Hansol insists. "Please."

Seungkwan has argued with Hansol before. He’s done it all: the cold shoulders, the temper tantrums, the whiny calls and the clingy demands. It took time for both their personalities to smooth out and mold around each other, for them to talk and work through their feelings without stepping on anyone’s feet, but Seungkwan has got too many feelings at the moment and not enough control to suppress them. Not this time, anyway. This is nothing like the other times. He feels almost feverish, while his heart beats wildly loud in his chest, pushed by anger, and anguish, and fear. Fear for Hansol’s life. Because for a single, terrifying moment he wholeheartedly believed he could have been dead, and he refuses to follow that single thought because he’s sure he will throw up. Fear for himself, too, because he thought he could have died as well.

He hates how Hansol is brushing it off as just a single incident, like these episodes weren’t starting to get more and more frequent, like he didn’t wanna burden Seungkwan with it because he couldn’t understand anyway, even if he never assumed he would.

He just wanted to help.

They keep arguing, loud and constant, for the better part of an hour, as they get ready for the day, through doors and walls and with their mouth full as they eat breakfast. Seungkwan’s stomach twists whenever Hansol spells his name and the hair at the back of his neck stands up every time Hansol sighs. Jihoon thankfully doesn’t emerge from his room and they let it simmer off into nothing, Hansol kissing him on the cheek outside his apartment complex before heading out to work.

Seungkwan goes back home and he enters a silent, empty flat.

Alone.

It’s how he’s wanted it, or he wouldn’t have rented a one-bedroom as soon as he started making enough money - it’s a hole in the wall and the couple next door probably sells kidneys on the black market, but it’s his own place and he’s proud and happy about it, most of the times.

It’s at times like this that he wishes he had a roommate, someone he can go to complain and let out all the steam leftover from the rest of the argument he couldn’t finish. It’s at times like this that he wishes Hansol was living with him, so that he didn’t have a choice but come back to him and finish what they started, even just to hug it out and forget it, instead of risking having to do it over the phone or not do it at all.

He decides to put his overdue energy into doing the cleaning and the laundry, but when lunchtime comes and goes and he’s yet to receive a single message or call, he sends one himself, telling Hansol he’s going to that tea house he likes and will bring back some cake if he wants. He also messages the BooSeokSoon group chat, asking if they wanna hang out at the tea house. Once his friends assured they won’t bail on him, he changes into some nice clothes, brushes his hair and puts on some light makeup - just to feel a little better, to get some nice selfies to send Hansol later - and he’s out again.

--***--

Hansol watches him amused, as Seungkwan vibrates through his room to get ready. Jeonghan sent him a message with a bunch of sparkly pink hearts and an offer for coffee at his favorite place. No boyfriends allowed. “You don’t put this much effort when I ask you out.” Hansol complains from his place, sprawled on the bed, feet wiggling to emphasise his point.

Seungkwan huffs. “We watch each other shit, I don’t need to look good for you anymore.” he comments, finally satisfied with the french tuck of his blue shirt inside his dark jeans. He turns around when there’s no protesting whine coming from Hansol, and he finds his boyfriend sitting up on the bed with a pout. “Oh, you big baby.” Seungkwan laughs, kissing the top of Hansol’s head. “Take me somewhere nice and I’ll dress up for you.”

“Promise.” Hansol says, sticking out his pinky. They do the whole ‘sealed with a kiss’ ordeal and then Seungkwan grabs his keys, wallet and phone and is out the door after throwing a flying kiss to his boyfriend.

Jeonghan is sitting at a table in the corner, partially shielded from view by a couple of plants. He’s typing away at his phone, fingers poking out from the rolled hem of a yellow sweater that’s way too big for him and, thus, probably belonging to Seungcheol, head bopping along to the chill jazz song in the background. When he sees him clearly, Seungkwan almost trips on his own feet, gasping dramatically. “Where did it go?! Who did this to you?” he gasps, slamming his hands on the table and startling his hyung. “Was it Joshua’s idea? Does Seungcheol know?”

Jeonghan stares at him, eyes wide, before throwing his head back in a healthy laugh. He brings a hand over his hair, once platinum blond and long enough to curl gently at his jaw, now a natural dark brown, short and with an undercut. Seungkwan realizes he isn’t used to seeing Jeonghan’s ears, which is a weird thought, but true nonetheless.

“I went with the intention to bleach my roots again, but changed my mind once I got there.” Jeonghan explains, smiling softly. It doesn’t look forced, but Seungkwan can see it doesn’t reach his eyes. His hyung looks tired and a bit sick, no pink in his cheeks and too much bruise under his eyes. He chooses not to comment, retreating just long enough to order and get his drink, before he takes a seat and starts chatting casually.

It’s been a while since he’s seen Jeonghan, even longer from the last time it was just the two of them, and Seungkwan suddenly feels nervous, feels his skin crawl with pinpricks every time Jeonghan averts his eyes for a moment, like there’s something on his mind, like there’s something he needs to say, but doesn’t yet.

“Kwanie, I don’t want you to be upset.” Jeonghan finally says, once there’s a lull in their conversation, stirring the melting ice left in the cup. “You know I love you, right?”

Seungkwan doesn’t like how the new conversation started, but he still smiles and nods, giving it the benefit of the doubt.

“I’ll be gone for a while. I don’t know how long, but it shouldn’t be too long. I hope it’s not.” Jeonghan continues, reaching out to hold Seungkwan’s hand. He’s freezing. “I’ve been… sick. Weird sick. You must know - I’m sure Hansol’s been sick before. It’s been getting a little out of hand, so we’ve reached out to a specialized clinic and they got back to me last week.” He ducks his head a bit, to look Seungkwan in the eyes, since the other has been just staring at their hands. “I got into their experimental program, it’s supposed to help with… well, everything.”

“You’re not a lab rat.” Seungkwan says, low and serious.

He knows healthcare for demias is a bit wonky, that technology doesn’t like them and so it becomes very tricky - and very costly - to provide them with the best care. It’s lucky they seem to not be prone to illness, but if one does ever get sick, things risk going from weird to very bad very quickly. Since they have known each other, Hansol’s been sick only once, with some weird allergic reaction to who knows what that had him stuck in bed with a 45° fever, cold sweats and cramps. It lasted a whole week, one of the worst of Seungkwan’s life (and they weren’t yet together at that time).

“I’m not a lab rat, I chose this. I want this.” Jeonghan says, so calm and gentle it hurts. “Can’t you see it?”

Seungkwan looks up, frowning. “See what?” he asks, but before even finishing the sentence, he understands what Jeonghan means. He wonders if he’s been stubbornly refusing to accept it until now, and he feels a bit ashamed at himself. It’s spring, warm enough you don’t need a jacket most times, but Jeonghan is dressed in a sweater and a turtleneck, and yet his hand is still freezing. His eyes are clear but they flicker, blurring, pupil flashing white. There’s been a sound, like a whistle, molding into the background noise, but persistent and constant and Seungkwan knows he can bear it only because he’s dating a fucking eldritch horror and he’s so used to this shit he’s almost immune. Behind, through the glass, a car turns and the headlights shine right into Seungkwan eyes and two things happen at once: he feels all color drain from his face, stomach like lead dropping down to his feet as a sudden and unexplained fear takes over him just for a moment, and then, as he blinks, the impression of the lights lingers, just enough to give Jeonghan a pair of ghostly wings.

“What if they lock you up with the excuse you’re too sick and they won’t let you out anymore?” Seungkwan murmurs, small and whiny and absolutely ridiculous, but worried nonetheless.

Jeonghan laughs, clear and warm and charming like a bell.

“There’s my little drama kid.” he ruffles Seungkwan’s hair. “What if they find a way to make me stop flickering? What if I manage to get a full night of sleep again?”

Seungkwan pouts, rattling his brain to find any other good arguments that would make Jeonghan change his mind and not have to go who knows where and for how long, but of course nothing comes to mind. Nothing more compelling than “I’ll miss you.”, at least, which is exactly what he says. “I’ll miss you too.” Jeonghan agrees.

Seungkwan holds his hand until they have to part.

On his way home, he figures he’s gonna text Hansol about it and maybe bully him into a glitchy phone call, but turns out he doesn’t need to. Hansol is waiting for him, sitting on the bench that is in the very little, very unkempt, green space in front of his apartment building. Seungkwan’s about to make a lot of questions, but by the time he reaches his boyfriend to climb in his lap and rest his head in the crook of his neck, he figures the answer is not that difficult to guess: Jeonghan must’ve told him, and asked him to take care of Seungkwan on his behalf, because he’s just that nice.

“I want to call Seungcheol hyung.” Seungkwan says, after a while, long enough his back hurts a bit from the shrimp-adiacent position he wiggled in.

“Let’s go inside, then.” Hansol says, picking him up with a bit of a struggle, and carrying him inside.

--***--

Seungkwan is peacefully dozing off, half immersed in a river, held by a pair of strong arms and a kind voice humming a lullaby. He feels warm and safe, but after a moment he realizes the temperature won’t stop rising and wherever his skin touches the other it burns badly. He tries to free himself, push away, but hands keep him close, hands and more hands and he’s struggling to breathe now, pushed below the surface of the water, the heat suffocating him.

By pure luck, or maybe the total lack of that, he manages to slip away from the hold and, when he looks up, he feels his heart seize and stutter.

Jeonghan’s skin is pulled tight over his bones, his rib cage expanding with his breaths, slits between ribs splitting open and eyes looking out, around. Seungkwan tries to look at his face, but his head feels heavy and his vision is blurry and he feels so dizzy when he tries to swim up, the world tilting and suddenly Jeonghan’s upside down, right in front of him.

Three pairs of bright, white wings flutter around him, and a very strong smell of burning plastic fills the void they’re standing in.

Jeonghan whispers something and his voice sounds like sharpened blades, a high pitched screech.

--***--

Seungkwan wonders if maybe he should’ve let Hansol come with him.

He insisted a lot, after all, going almost as far as begging him, but Seungkwan felt it wouldn’t have been right. It felt like something he was supposed to face on his own. He promised his boyfriend he would text him and call him as soon as he was done, kissed him soundly on the cheek, and then left for his hyungs apartment.

Joshua opens the door and welcomes him inside with a big smile and a side hug. He’s letting his hair grow enough he keeps them away from his face with the aid of two clips at the side. Jeonghan’s clips. “Cheollie is sulking in the kitchen, he’ll be here soon.”

“I’m not sulking.” Seungcheol protests weakly from afar. He walks in with a tray filled with cookies. “I panic-baked too many, so you’re gonna bring a bag back to your house.”

“You look like shit.” Seungkwan doesn’t want to be mean, but he really doesn’t think saying anything but the truth can be seen as kind. Seungcheol had deep dark circles under his eyes, his skin was sickly pale and his posture was hunched over, the oversized t-shirt he has on looks worn and old and it’s definitely not his, and as he hands a tupperware filled with chocolate chip cookies, Seungkwan can see his nails are bitten enough to draw blood.

“Thanks, you always know how to flatter me.” Seungcheol replies with a genuine smile, even if tired. “But you’re not wrong.”

Recalibrating. Joshua says, as they set up the laptop and check that everything works. Our whole existence is readjusting to having Jeonghan gone.

Seungkwan wonders if that’s happening to him too, his body going through all the weird symptoms of a Jeonghan withdrawal, while his heart can’t stop worrying. He tells them about the dream, about waking up shaking and cold, just before a silent window pops up, incoming call.

Jeonghan looks… fine. Whatever they’re doing over there must be working, because the interferences are minimal, or maybe it’s the strength of their devices and internet that can sustain them.

He stutters and lags, but they can see him smiling and hear his giggles.

They talk for five minutes, about everything and anything, about Seungkwan and his new job, about Joshua’s new plant that is growing too big for its pot and about Seungcheol’s panic-baking. They show him the cookies and he shows them his journals and books and trinkets he’s made in some DIY class that’s apparently part of his recovery program.

“I love you, Cheollie, Joshuji.” he says when a nurse comes to tell him time’s up. “Stay safe, Kwanie.” His smile is so soft and kind that the whole screen goes white for a moment and by the time they get it to work again, the call is already over. Seungcheol lets out a long sigh, leaning his head against Joshua’s.

“He looked so good.” he says, a smile in his voice. “He seems to be doing so well.”

Seungkwan nods in agreement. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest, now that he’s been able to see his hyung again. He collects his cookies and jacket, hugs his hyungs tightly before stepping outside. The sun is going down, less than half an hour and it’d be stuck at that awkward heigh where caps are useless because it gets in your eyes anyway. It’s warm, casting the whole world in a soft golden light that reflects off metals and puddles. He fishes his phone out of a pocket and dials Hansol’s number as he makes his way towards the closest bus stop.

“Yeah, yeah, you hate calls but just hear me out.” he says the moment Hansol picks up. There’s already static on the line. “Let’s eat out tonight. Maybe grab something to go and have a walk along the river?” He wants to see Hansol’s eyes sparkle during the golden hour, hear him smile and laugh as they lay down in a patch of grass in the sun. There’s a laugh barely coming through from the speaker, but Seungkwan has it memorized.

“I am already coming to pick you up, I'm almost there.” Hansol says and Seungkwan does a little victory dance, uncaring of anyone who could be watching.

"Thank you, love you!"

It slips away so easily, carelessly, and Seungkwan trips for a moment on his feet, ready to explain, to take it back, to reassure that its ok if he doesn't hear it back right away or at all, but Hansol beats his anxiety with a little giggle and a simple: "Hmn, me too."

Seungkwan blushes, bright and all at once, red like the pedestrian traffic light before it switches to green. He takes a step and one breath, ready to say it again, but his stomach lurches and he feels his whole body seize.

He sees it happening in flashbacks: the bright light behind him, the screeching sound of brakes, the blinding headlights in front, the burning smell of tires.

And then the crash.

--***--

Hansol is more affected by the whole thing than he is, so strung high on worry and fear the doctors shoo him out of the ER because his presence made the lights and monitors flicker and the machines beep to the time of his thrumming heartbeat. He’s burning up, his hand warm even through the fabric of his shirt, trembling, as he guides Seungkwan down the street to the bus stop.

Seungkwan remembers the accident like an out-of-body experience, watching it happen from the side lines. Three cars, losing control and crashing right into him. The flash of pain and the chaos after. They pulled him out of the wreckage with puzzled, incredulous expressions, asked him a hundred times the same questions, trying to understand how or why he managed to survive at all. Checked him from head to toe, worrying they had missed something, before writing the whole thing off as a simple, extremely lucky chance.

Seungkwan tells Hansol everything on the ride home, while he tries his best to avoid the curious looks of the other passengers. He’s still in his ripped clothes, a sling with his left arm in a hot pink cast, a butterfly bandage on the cut on his right cheek, hair a mess and a leg bouncing nervously. He feels definitely too calm, considering everything that happened, but he supposes he’ll freak out as soon as the adrenaline wears off.

They thankfully don’t run into any of Seungkwan’s neighbours, quickly and quietly rushing upstairs to his apartment. He feels his legs go weak as he stumbles inside and he immediately bee lines to the couch to avoid ending up with his ass on the floor. He takes a deep breath, shaky, wanting to comment on how absurd the whole situation is, but the moment he looks up, he sees Hansol kneel in front of him, shaking so hard. Seungkwan's ears ring, and he winces in pain.

“Hansol... hey... baby, it’s ok.” he murmurs.

“I dreamt this. It’s my fault.” Hansol says, hands moving to tug at Seungkwan’s shirt, pulling at it. “I kept dreaming this and I couldn’t do anything and I thought if I managed to reach you in time it was going to be fine.”

Seungkwan thinks back to all the weird, sleepless nights, when Hansol woke up trembling and anxious, when he would look at him with a weird glint in his eyes and a foregn anxiety in his fingertips. He thinks about how much he was insisting for him to not go just that morning, uncharacteristically clingy. Seungkwan thinks, and reaches out to thread his finger through Hansol’s hair. “Is that why you were coming? You thought you knew this would happen?”

“I didn’t think it would happen. I knew.” Hansol insists, looking up. His eyes are rimmed red and wet with tears, cheeks warm. “I saw it, over and over, and when you called me and said -” He cuts himself off, blinking, eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown.

“I said I love you.” Seungkwan murmurs, quiet and shy.

Hansol nods, one hand rubbing his eyes to clear away the tears. “And I got so happy that I forgot why I was worried in the first place and that’s when…”

Seungkwan gasps, loudly, clutching at Hansol’s arm and tugging, trying to have him sit on the couch. “Hansol Vernon Chwe, don’t you dare think even for a second that the crash happened because of you.” he chastises, hurried. “What if I’m fine because of you?”

Hansol’s head snaps up, eyes bright. Seungkwan doesn’t really know what he’s saying, words coming out before he can think about them, but he knows he means what he says, and more importantly he needs Hansol to understand. “You told me yourself that your dreams spill into mine, right? What if all of them were a warning?” Seungkwan gently cups Hansol’s face with his free hand, thumb stroking over his cheek. Bits and pieces of past dreams and nightmares come back to him, he fits them together with what happened, but he isn’t sure if it’s just forcing a meaning upon them. He doesn’t think it matters. “And what if it worked?”

--***--

Seungcheol told Seungkwan, a few days after Jeonghan was gone, what had happened to prompt them to call the clinic.

Joshua had woken him up in a frenzy, hands trembling, telling him that Jeonghan was gone, that he doesn’t know how it happened because he was awake and didn’t hear the front door, nor see him walk back out from the bathroom. They looked everywhere, then at one point, Seungcheol’s nose started dripping blood, and the lamp post light outside flickered. When they looked over, they saw Jeonghan, floating under the light ten meters in the air, his skin translucent and his eyes open and pitch black. It lasted five seconds, in which both of them rushed to the balcony, Joshua already dialing the emergency number. The light flickered, and when it was off, Jeonghan’s figure was shining in its own light. Then he was gone, back in their bed, trembling, his temperature high.

Seungkwan can’t even begin to imagine how scary that must’ve been for his hyungs. He doesn’t know how scary it might’ve been for Hansol to hear, to think it could happen to him, too.

It’s what he’s thinking while Hansol tells Jeonghan everything about his dreams, about the accident.

Jeonghan had come back smiling, bright as a rose and happier than any of them had seen him in a while. His hair is copper red now, long enough Seungcheol keeps tucking it back behind his ear, he’s gained a healthy amount of weight, and Seungkwan doesn’t remember him ever looking so hauntingly human while he can still see the weird spark in his eyes, the way his hair catches the light in rainbows and shimmers, how his laugh sounds like chimes if you pay enough attention.

“You’re gonna be alright, we’ll take care of you.” Jeonghan reassures Hansol, pulling him into a big hug. Hansol’s whole being deflates, relieved and grateful, and as if to echo that, the plants near the couch flutter, like caressed by a breeze, while the suncatcher hung at the window casts light into the room, even if the sun isn’t really in the right position to do so.

Seungkwan is watching from the kitchen, trying - but probably failing miserably - to be as subtle as possible about it. Joshua is making coffee next to him, while Seungcheol is whining next to him about something he hasn’t paid attention to. He can’t make out everything they’re saying, just bits and pieces, and it’s making him a little bit annoyed. Just because he’s nosey.

“They know you’re staring. I’m sure they’ll let you be there.” Seungcheol tells him after sticking his fingers between his ribs.

Seungkwan hisses, swatting his hand away. “No, this is Hansol’s thing. It’s him and Jeonghan and I can just be a clingy mess for the rest of the day once you all are gone.” he enunciates, making a point to turn his back on the living room and look at his hyung in the eyes. “I can live without knowing.”

Joshua peeks from behind Seungcheol, one eyebrow up in distrust, matching his boyfriend.

“Ok, maybe I will extort the conversation out of him when we go to bed.” Seungkwan concedes, rolling his eyes. “This doesn’t make me a bad partner.”

“Why would you even think that.” Hansol appears next to him, eyes big under a frown.

Seungkwan rambles. “It’s just - you can have your things and I can have my things and it’s ok if we don’t know about the things because you’re allowed to exist as your own person and experiences separated from me and-”

There’s a loud, high pitched scream coming from the living room. All four of them turn to look at Jeonghan. Seungkwan opens his mouth to ask what the fuck is going on, but Jeonghan interrupts him promptly, screaming again.

“Please stop, you don’t want the neighbours to complain.” Joshua huffs, passing them by to reach his boyfriend on the couch and shutting him up with a hand before he could scream again. Seungcheol follows because he's a big baby, and can’t be separated from them.

“What hyung means is that I would’ve told you anyway.” Hansol tells Seungkwan, reaching for his hand. “This might be about me, but I want to share it with you.”

“You got all that from a scream?” Seungkwan wonders, rhetorically.

Hansol laughs. “Yes, it’s us demia’s first language.” he jokes.

--***--

They’re having sex. It’s not even anything spectacular, mostly because they were both bored and horny at the same time. They’re not even experimenting.

And yet, Hansol gets a bit too excited and sets fire to the curtains.

They’re naked, hard and laughing their asses off, trying to extinguish the flames as quickly as they can, hoping they don’t set off the bed sheets, too. Seungkwan has to make a trip to the bathroom to fill a bowl with water, but they manage to save themselves.

They collapse on the bed, holding each other, tears in their eyes from too much laughter.

“Oh my god, this all makes sense now.” Seungkwan wheezes, trying to sit back up even as his abs ache.

Hansol isn’t in a better state. “What does?”

“Seungcheol hyung keeps one of those mini fire extinguishers in his room. I never really understood why until now.” Seungkwan replies and there’s a bit of silence where they both just stare at each other, before falling back into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

Seungkwan curls up on top of his boyfriend once they’ve both caught their breaths, a leg over his hip and his head perched on top of his hands, placed on his chest. “You’ll have to buy me new curtains.”