Chapter Text
“Cheol. Cheol. Seungcheol.”
Jihoon’s voice has gone past annoyed and is quickly approaching pissed off. He glares at Seungcheol, who continues to smile dopily at his phone, oblivious. His attention has been elsewhere for their entire session. Jihoon is about ready to kick him out.
He grabs a pen from his desk and throws it directly at Seungcheol’s forehead. It hits the target with pinpoint accuracy, and Seungcheol finally looks up at him, eyes wide, pouting like he’s been deeply wounded.
“What the fuck?” Seungcheol asks plaintively. Jihoon rolls his eyes.
“Wake up. We’re supposed to be working. Stop thinking about your new toy.”
The faux-hurt falls away from Seungcheol’s face all at once, replaced by a huge grin. He turns towards Jihoon, excited.
“You’ve seen him, then. You saw the photos. What do you think? Hottest thing you’ve ever seen, right?”
Jihoon groans, turning back to his computer. Trust Seungcheol to take his scolding as an invitation to speak.
Of course Jihoon has seen the photos, seen him. The whole damn world has seen him. Kim Mingyu.
Jihoon couldn’t have told you his name before all this — he barely pays attention to the celebrities in his own corner of the industry, never mind anyone beyond that — but he knew his face.
Anyone who’s ever walked down a commercial street in Seoul — or Singapore, or Paris, or New York — knows Mingyu’s face.
After the past few weeks, though, Jihoon has had no choice but to learn his name too. It’s been attached to Seungcheol’s in every headline, hashtag, viral post and trending topic ever since Korea’s most popular and controversial rapper, S.Coups, and Korea’s most successful and beloved supermodel, Kim Mingyu, met very publicly and explosively at Milan fashion week.
Jihoon had noticed the near-hysterical clamour around them online — impossible not to when it was practically everywhere — but he hadn’t paid much attention. Seungcheol always has fun when he goes out for fashion month; him making a new famous friend was hardly anything new. Even the flood of excited, near-incomprehensible texts he sent to Jihoon from Milan and Paris didn’t stand out that much. Seungcheol is an irrepressible flirt addicted to pretty faces; Jihoon had no reason to believe this would be anything more than another of his whirlwind, love-’em-and-leave-’em romances.
It was only when Seungcheol arrived back in Korea acting like he’d had some kind of religious experience that Jihoon realised this was something more than the usual tryst.
Good for Seungcheol, really. But he’s been away for the best part of a month, and Jihoon just wants to work. He’s been sitting on their latest project for weeks, waiting for Seungcheol to get back so they can move it beyond the demo stage. He doesn’t care about Seungcheol’s new boyfriend right now.
“If you’re not here to work, go home,” Jihoon finally says, grumpy. “You sitting there grinning at your phone is distracting me.”
Seungcheol heaves a dramatic sigh and pushes himself up. Jihoon’s back is still to him, but he listens to him cross the few steps between the couch and the production desk, then feels his hands land on the back of Jihoon’s chair.
“You’re so sweet to me, Jihoonie. I missed you too.”
Jihoon rolls his eyes at the heavy amusement in his voice, and then curses when Seungcheol leans down to press a sloppy, obnoxious kiss to his cheek. Seungcheol laughs, loud, directly down Jihoon’s ear canal.
“You don’t even care that I’m in love. Your very best friend has pulled the most beautiful boy in the world, and all you care about is my raw musical talent.”
Seungcheol’s put on his whiniest tone, pouting again, and Jihoon smirks despite himself. He has missed his idiot best friend, his artistic soulmate, even if he’d never say so out loud.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re exactly right. Glad you finally understand. Go get in that booth or leave me alone.”
“Heartless,” Seungcheol sighs. Jihoon grunts in agreement, and presses play on the last demo recording they made.
Seungcheol, at long last, takes the hint and gets in the recording booth.
⏯
A week later, Seungcheol arrives at the studio, and Mingyu is with him.
Jihoon has heard plenty about Seungcheol’s pretty little husband by now, has indulged his friend and listened to him ramble on and show him photos. He’s even admitted that Mingyu seems a good match for Seungcheol — hot, smart, equally invested in the burgeoning relationship.
What Jihoon definitely has not done is make any kind of suggestion that he wants to meet Mingyu. He certainly hasn’t suggested Seungcheol bring his new boyfriend to the studio. Seungcheol knows damn well that Jihoon doesn’t like anyone new in his space.
Trust Seungcheol to do exactly what he wants, regardless. Jihoon glares at him.
“Cheol-ah…” He makes no attempt to mask the annoyance in his voice.
Seungcheol ignores him, but Mingyu doesn’t.
Mingyu, who has knelt down by the low coffee table, ridiculously long legs folded up beneath him, and is unpacking several boxes from his bag. He looks up at Jihoon and gives him a sweet, apologetic smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m not staying. Just dropping off some food.”
Jihoon feels mildly bad about being caught so clearly irritated, but, well. He can’t pretend he isn’t glad to hear Mingyu’s words. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he just watches as Mingyu continues to cover the table with various containers. Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind the audience.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, but you’re from Busan, right? So I made dwaeji-gukbap.” Mingyu taps one of the boxes, looking slightly shy, but still smiling up at Jihoon. “And Cheol-hyung says you always want extra rice, so there’s more in here for you.”
Jihoon’s eyes have gone wide. He glances over at Seungcheol, who only looks smug and raises his eyebrows in response, sprawled out on the couch and watching the two of them with interest.
No help there, then. Jihoon looks back to Mingyu, who is standing back up now. Fuck, but he’s tall. The coffee table is crowded with food, and it smells incredible.
“Uh. Thank you.”
It’s an awkward and insufficient response, but Mingyu seems pleased anyway.
“You’re welcome. I’m Mingyu, by the way.”
“Yeah.” Jihoon blinks up at him, and he looks back hopefully. It takes Jihoon a moment to realise what he’s waiting for. “Jihoon.”
“Jihoon-ssi?”
The response is quick and teasing. Mingyu watches him with a little grin, biting the corner of his lip, a sharp canine showing, and, well. Jihoon may be an antisocial grouch, but he’s not immune to loveliness.
“Hyung. If you like.”
Mingyu gives him a dazzling smile and nods. He looks delighted, as though Jihoon had welcomed him warmly, rather than giving him delayed, monosyllabic answers.
“Come say bye, baby,” Seungcheol calls from where he’s still practically lying down. Smug, lazy bastard.
Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind. He goes over happily, balances a knee on the edge of the couch so he can lean down and be gathered into a kiss that borders on filthy. Jihoon feels like he should roll his eyes, but he can’t stop looking at the strip of tan skin where Mingyu’s shirt has ridden up, or at Seungcheol’s fingers laced into the dark hair at the back of his neck.
When Seungcheol releases him, Mingyu stays close and murmurs something, smiling. Seungcheol grins back and nods, winks.
Mingyu straightens up, grabs his bag, then actually fucking bows to Jihoon, his manners just as pretty and polite as the rest of him.
“Sorry for intruding, hyung. Work hard.”
And with another photoshoot-ready smile, he’s gone, closing the door gently behind him.
Jihoon stares at the door for a long moment before spinning in his desk chair to look directly at Seungcheol.
“What the fuck?”
Seungcheol tilts his head back and laughs.
“I told you, man. I’m keeping this one. He’s the best.”
Jihoon can’t argue with that, based on what he’s just seen.
“Is he always… like that?” Jihoon couldn’t even say exactly what he means. Sweet? Polite? So hot it’s almost stupid?
“He’s even better,” Seungcheol says. “He was kinda shy about meeting you.”
Jihoon blinks, trying to apply shy to the tall, confident, Greek god of a man who just left his studio. Before he can comment, though, Seungcheol is throwing a pair of chopsticks at him.
“Go grab us drinks and come enjoy the feast my pretty little husband made for us.”
Jihoon gets his Coke Zero and Seungcheol’s cherry seltzer, and a few bowls. Seungcheol has sat up and started to open the containers. The smell is unbelievable.
“What the fuck,” Jihoon mutters again, grabbing a pillow so he can sit on the floor and eat at the low table. “He really made all this?”
“Yep,” Seungcheol says in English, purely so he can pop the P obnoxiously. Jihoon spares him a withering glance and he just smirks back, sharing out the food. “Been in the kitchen all morning.”
“You must have been a saint in a past life. No way you deserve such good treatment in this one.”
Seungcheol’s smirk doesn’t falter.
“Don’t complain when you’re directly benefiting. Here’s your hometown speciality and your extra rice, hyung.”
He drags the word out in a pale imitation of Mingyu’s cute, curling tone. Jihoon extends a leg to kick Seungcheol’s ankle and pulls the food towards him.
It’s the best dwaeji-gukbap he’s ever had outside of Busan.
.
They work for a few hours, slipping into the flow state that comes easily to them after working side by side for over a decade. Usually Jihoon fuels himself in those long sessions with the unhealthy food he keeps in the little studio kitchen, seaweed snacks and instant ramen, but he finds himself completely sated after Mingyu’s meal.
It’s late when they pack up and walk out of the building together. It’s not until they’re about to part ways — Jihoon walking, Seungcheol getting into his blacked-out chauffeured SUV like the celebrity asshole he is — that Jihoon speaks up.
“Hey. Tell Mingyu thanks for the food, yeah? It was good.”
Seungcheol wiggles his brows in a way that his fans, somehow, find deeply appealing. Jihoon does not.
“Tell him yourself!”
With that, he pulls the car door open and climbs in, leaving Jihoon frowning in bemusement. He shrugs it off — Seungcheol’s nonsense is not new to him — and puts his headphones on, starts walking. A phone alert interrupts him after only a few steps, a message from Seungcheol.
>> seungcheol priv
> ;)
> Contact Shared: my minggoo 🍯🎀💍🔥
Jihoon rolls his eyes, but he saves the contact, renames it to simply mingyu, and starts a new message thread.
< thanks for the food. it was great
< it’s Jihoon btw
>> mingyu
> You’re welcome hyung!! I hope you ate well 🥰
> I was happy to finally meet you!
> You should tell me your favourite dishes
> I’ll make them for you and bring them next time
Jihoon stares at the replies, which arrive almost immediately, one after the other in rapidfire succession. It’s only bumping into someone that draws him back to the real world, and he shoves his phone away as he bows and mumbles an apology.
Next time. After the awful first impression Jihoon must have made.
How the fuck had Seungcheol landed this guy?
⏯
Mingyu brings them food again the following week. While he’s there, he reminds Jihoon that he still hasn’t told him his favourite dishes. He pouts when he says it, as if Jihoon has denied him some great pleasure.
In sixteen years of friendship, Jihoon has never found Seungcheol’s tendency to pout anything other than obnoxious. Mingyu’s pout, it turns out, is a different story.
Jihoon gives in instantly. He reels off a list of foods he likes, and Mingyu leaves with a happy smile on his face. Seungcheol watches the entire exchange with glee.
“Shut up,” Jihoon says, before he can even start.
A few days later, Seungcheol texts to ask if he wants black bean noodles for lunch.
< yea. where are u ordering from though
< the place u chose last time sucked
>> seungcheol priv
> [Image_8074.jpg]
> 😜
Jihoon opens the photo. It’s Mingyu stood in Seungcheol’s kitchen, stirring something in a large wok. He’s grinning over his shoulder at the camera, slightly blurry. He’s wearing a damn apron.
Jihoon groans and puts his phone down. His stomach rumbles traitorously.
Seungcheol and Mingyu arrive at the studio about an hour later. Once again, Mingyu doesn’t linger after unpacking the food and receiving his customarily excessive goodbye kiss from Seungcheol, but he does pause briefly at the door. He looks almost shy, glancing at Jihoon from beneath his long, long lashes.
“I hope you like the jjajangmyeon, hyung. But if you don’t, tell me, okay? I like feedback. I want to get your favourites right.”
And before Jihoon can figure out how to respond to that, Mingyu bids them his usual sweet goodbye and goes on his way.
.
The noodles are perfect. Jihoon can’t hide his reaction, and Seungcheol puffs up with pride as though he’d made them himself.
“You better tell Gyu-yah how much you like them, Jihoonie. He worked so hard for you.”
“With no help from you, I bet. Sat on your fat ass watching him cook.”
Seungcheol stretches his arms up above his head, grinning in shameless satisfaction.
“I help. I tell him how pretty and talented he is. Remember, he likes feedback.”
Jihoon rolls his eyes at his sleazy tone, but he doesn’t forget. Later, when Seungcheol is focused on his own laptop, headphones on, Jihoon slips his phone out to text Mingyu.
< the jjajangmyeon was amazing
< 10/10
< thanks for the food
The reply isn’t instantaneous this time — Mingyu is on a shoot for Innisfree this afternoon, according to Seungcheol — but it still doesn’t take long.
>> mingyu
> Ah hyung thank you!!
> I’m so happy
> 🥰😊🫶🍜
> Eat well and work hard today 🙏
Jihoon locks his phone and places it face-down before he does something idiotic, like start smiling at the screen.
⏯
Mingyu bringing them restaurant-quality homemade food somehow becomes a regular thing. Jihoon is eating better than he has in years. He has more energy, he’s sleeping better, he’s lifting more in the gym. Seungcheol’s condition is similarly improved, and the energy in the studio is high.
Mingyu seems perfectly content to drop the food off and leave afterwards, but by the fourth week of this new Mingyu Delivery Service routine, Jihoon starts to feel uneasy. He may have grown into a man whose bluntness borders on rudeness, but he was raised well. They’re being impolite.
The next time Mingyu stops by with a feast for them and leaves just as swiftly, Jihoon finally brings it up. He opens the conversation by balling up a napkin and throwing it at Seungcheol.
“Why don’t you ever ask him to stay and eat with us? Shitty boyfriend.”
Seungcheol bats the napkin aside and pouts at him.
“I don’t know, maybe because you’re a diva who hisses like a cat when anyone you don’t approve of comes into the studio?”
Jihoon rolls his eyes. It’s a blatant exaggeration. Still, he’s self aware enough to recognise that there’s some truth at the core of it.
“Well, whatever. Mingyu’s fine.”
Seungcheol’s eyes go wide and the beginnings of an unbearably self-satisfied grin start to form on his face. Jihoon keeps talking to cut him off before he can start.
“And anyway, it’s rude. He makes us all this food and you never ask him to join us. It makes us look ungrateful.”
Seungcheol just laughs at that.
“Trust me, he loves feeding us. But if you’re so bothered by it, just ask him to stay next time he comes over.”
“Me?” Jihoon stares at him, bewildered. Seungcheol smirks back.
“You know my baby has perfect manners, Jihoonie. He respects this as your space. If I ask him to stay, he’ll think I’m just fucking around.”
“Yeah, ‘cause he knows you’re full of shit,” Jihoon mumbles, but it’s half-hearted. His mind is on Seungcheol’s words.
It makes sense, really. A couple of times, Seungcheol has been whiny when Mingyu leaves, wheedling with him to stay a little longer, no doubt so Seungcheol can continue to grope him shamelessly two meters away from Jihoon. Mingyu always gives him ridiculously indulgent looks in return, and sometimes he looks tempted, but he always finds a way to gracefully decline and make his exit.
He never acts annoyed about not staying, never seems resentful towards Jihoon. In fact, Mingyu’s been considerate of Jihoon’s prickly boundaries in a way he’s rarely experienced. It makes sense that an invitation to stay would have to come directly from Jihoon for Mingyu to believe it — and, hopefully, to accept it.
.
Mingyu is by far the busiest of the three of them, working non-stop on various high profile jobs, and his packed schedule means it’s almost a fortnight before he next comes to the studio with Seungcheol.
Jihoon has spent much of that time considering his approach, and missing Mingyu’s cooking. He doesn’t hesitate.
“Mingyu-yah, are you working after this?”
Mingyu looks up at him from where he’s kneeling on the floor to unpack their lunch. He smiles, happy and guileless.
“No, hyung. I finally have a full day off. I’m going to clean, nap, and video call my parents.”
He sounds utterly delighted with his plans. Seungcheol coos, loudly questioning how someone can be so cute. Jihoon doesn’t join in, but he can’t disagree. Who else but Mingyu would be so excited about cleaning and talking to his parents?
The rush of fondness Jihoon feels is unexpectedly strong. It makes it easier to speak up.
“You should stay and eat with us, then.”
Mingyu’s eyes go wide with surprise. He glances at Seungcheol and then back at Jihoon, not doubtful, but wondering. He’s so expressive, so open with everything he’s feeling. It’s mesmerising to watch.
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind, hyung. I like bringing you food like this. It makes me happy afterwards, knowing you’re both eating well.”
Jihoon rises from his desk chair and grabs a pillow so he can sit on the floor next to Mingyu and help him unpack the rest of the containers. This way, he doesn’t have to look directly at Mingyu’s face and deal with how absurdly sweet he is.
“You always make more than enough for all three of us. You should stay. If you want.”
It comes out a little bit stilted and awkward. Seungcheol laughs, full of affection, and reaches over to squeeze Jihoon’s shoulder.
“Just accept, baby, before our Jihoonie gets all weird about it. I’ll go get some drinks and more plates.”
“Yeah, make yourself useful for once,” Jihoon gripes, grateful for the out the subject change provides. Mingyu giggles quietly, and when Jihoon glances over at him, they share a little smile.
Mingyu doesn’t protest any further after that. He doesn’t make a big deal of it, but Jihoon can tell how shyly pleased he is to be invited to stay.
The three of them eat while sitting on the floor around the coffee table, and it’s… easy. Comfortable. It’s nice, really. Mingyu is clever, a good listener — far better than Seungcheol — and his high-pitched laugh is unexpectedly endearing. He fusses over both of them, sharing the food out, topping up their drinks, making sure their plates are never empty. And he takes so much obvious pleasure in seeing Jihoon enjoy the food he made that Jihoon feels bad for not inviting him sooner.
Mingyu still leaves after they eat, but not immediately. They chat for a while first, light and relaxed, and this time when Mingyu mentions he should get going, it’s not only Seungcheol who suggests he should stay. Jihoon’s barely-there offer is mostly drowned out by Seungcheol’s whining demands, but Mingyu notices it anyway, and gives Jihoon a soft, grateful smile.
“No, no,” Mingyu insists, clearly pleased by the attention but staying firm. “I need that nap even more now that I’ve eaten. I’ll leave you two to work.”
“My baby is so cruel, going home to nap without me…” Seungcheol brings out his most ridiculous pout, and Jihoon scoffs. Mingyu grins and leans over to give Seungcheol a kiss.
“My poor Cheollie. I’ll see you tonight, though.”
That reminder, supplemented by several notably more intent kisses, is enough to appease Seungcheol. Jihoon watches it all openly; if they’re not going to make any attempt at subtlety, neither is he. When Mingyu finally draws back, he glances over at Jihoon, noticing his attention. Jihoon raises one eyebrow, wry, and Mingyu laughs bashfully but doesn’t make any excuses.
“Thank you for inviting me to stay, hyung,” he says, polite as ever and full of clear affection. “It was really nice.”
Jihoon doesn’t know how to agree with that without sounding awkward, so he just nods. He does remember his manners, though.
“Thank you for the food. It was great. It always is.”
It’s hardly the most effusive praise, but Mingyu seems utterly delighted by it. He’s still grinning to himself when he walks out of the door.
The silence left in the studio after Mingyu leaves is loaded, expectant. Jihoon avoids looking at Seungcheol for as long as possible, knowing what will be waiting for him, but for once, Seungcheol’s patience seems to match his own.
Jihoon sighs heavily and turns to face his best friend.
Seungcheol is grinning so hard he looks manic.
“You like him!”
Jihoon scowls and looks for something on the coffee table he can throw at Seungcheol.
“How old are you? Listen to yourself.”
Seungcheol remains entirely unaffected by both the words and the empty iced tea bottle launched at him. He shuffles his way around the table until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Jihoon, leaning against him.
“My Jihoon-ah likes my pretty little husband,” he crows, sing-song. “You didn’t want to like him, but you do.”
“Who says I didn’t want to?” Jihoon grumbles, just to be contrary. Seungcheol just keeps grinning, like he can see right through him.
“It’s good. You know that, right? I want you to like him. And he was so happy you asked.”
“Alright, alright,” Jihoon winces, shoving Seungcheol away. This is approaching outright sentimentality far too quickly for Jihoon’s liking. “Clean all this shit up, we have work to do.”
Seungcheol actually complies, apparently pleased enough with the afternoon’s success to skip his usual lazy protests for once. Before he gets up, though, he wraps an arm around Jihoon’s shoulder so he can pull him back in and force a kiss against his temple.
Jihoon curses and shoves him away even harder this time, standing up and retreating to the relative safety of his desk chair. Seungcheol obediently clears the coffee table, but he’s laughing to himself the entire time.
⏯
After that, it only seems natural for Mingyu to stay and eat with them whenever he brings food to the studio.
⏯
They’re in their usual spots on the floor around the coffee table. Mingyu just got back from a shoot in Hawaii, and he’s made them a lunch inspired by some of the dishes he tried out there. It’s delicious as always, skilfully prepared and presented, but Jihoon can barely focus on the food. He’s distracted by something else Mingyu brought back from his island trip.
Mingyu is beautiful: of course Jihoon knows this, because everyone knows this. Mingyu has an entire modelling career’s worth of evidence backing up that fact. After so many encounters, Jihoon has become mostly accustomed to Mingyu’s beauty, as much as anyone ever gets used to something like that.
But a week under tropical sunlight has done something to Mingyu, and it feels like all Jihoon’s familiarity with having a supermodel sat cross-legged in his studio has disappeared, and he can’t stop looking.
Mingyu’s tan, always pretty, has deepened into something even richer. He’s golden. His skin looks like expensive melted honey. Even under the purplish artificial lighting of the studio, he’s glowing. Jihoon has the sudden, absurd urge to see Mingyu in natural light. Golden hour light, preferably, for this golden boy.
Jihoon feels a little bit insane. He so rarely has thoughts like this. He’s spent plenty of time around objectively attractive people before — he is, however reluctantly, a celebrity in the entertainment industry — but he’s never felt particularly moved by the perfect, pristine glamour of the singers and actors he’s met at various events.
Mingyu, though. Mingyu, with a coffee stain on his shirt, throwing his head back and laughing with no poise whatsoever. Mingyu, who just grins back every time he catches Jihoon staring at him. Mingyu, lit from within.
Jihoon’s head is a mess. He needs to find his composure.
“I’m going to get another drink,” he announces, stretching. He goes to stand, but before he can, Mingyu is already scrambling to his feet, all limbs.
“It’s okay, hyung, I’ll get it.” Mingyu beams at Jihoon, then looks across to Seungcheol. “Cheollie?”
Seungcheol holds up his full glass and smiles, shaking his head. Jihoon sighs in fond exasperation.
“Gyu, you don’t have to fetch our drinks, you know.”
Mingyu pouts back at him.
“I like taking care of people. You won’t let me?”
Jihoon can’t fight that expression, those words. He lifts his hands up in acquiescence, smiling helplessly as he watches Mingyu disappear around the partition that splits the studio in two.
So much for composure. Jihoon finds himself vaguely amazed, and not for the first time. It’s hard to believe Mingyu is real, sometimes.
“He’s the best, huh?”
Jihoon looks over at Seungcheol. He never misses a chance to revel in the fact he’s bagged such a hot, clever, sweet boyfriend, and his face is full of that usual smug satisfaction, but there’s something else there, too. Something sharper, more interested.
Seungcheol has such a big personality that people often miss how perceptive he is. Jihoon, though, he never forgets it. Seungcheol is a noticer. He sees things.
Jihoon is not ready to be seen, right now. He decides to play along, instead, knowing Seungcheol won’t be able to resist.
“Where the hell did you find him, Cheol-ah… he’s way too good for you.”
Jihoon lets his voice carry, knowing Mingyu will be able to hear the words. He wonders if Mingyu is blushing. Seungcheol picks up on the game immediately and matches his volume to Jihoon’s, grinning.
“The whole world knows where I found him, Hoonie, c’mon. Front row at Milan fashion week. Saw him and knew he needed to be mine.”
It’s true. Everyone had seen those photos of Mingyu and Seungcheol, their very first meeting and already obsessed with each other at first sight. The entire interaction had gone hyper-viral.
Jihoon scoffs at Seungcheol’s grandiose words, but he’s too distracted to come up with a retort. He’s too focused on waiting for Mingyu to come back, desperate to see his reaction, eyes glued to where he’ll reappear. Mingyu, as per usual, doesn’t disappoint; he comes back into view with his head ducked down and his ears bright pink from his blushing.
“Here, hyung.”
Mingyu’s voice is soft as he sits down and hands Jihoon his Coke Zero. He’s avoiding Seungcheol’s wild eyes. Seungcheol quite clearly loves it.
“So shy, baby?” Seungcheol’s voice is wickedly teasing.
Mingyu just whines, busying himself with passing more food out, as if that will in any way distract Seungcheol or Jihoon from how pretty he looks, cheeks flushed, practically squirming.
When Jihoon can tear his eyes away, he glances back at Seungcheol. Seungcheol raises his glass to him, as though they’re toasting something. As though a silent agreement was just made.
Jihoon doesn’t join in the toast, but he does crack open the can Mingyu brought him and take a sip.
.
“It’s okay, you know.”
Jihoon freezes for a moment. He’s crouched under his desk to plug in one of his guitars, which gives him a moment to manage his instinctive reaction to that tone from Seungcheol.
Seungcheol sounds relaxed, but, well. He’s not a subtle man, and Jihoon knows him more than well enough to recognise that tone in his voice. It’s the one he uses when he’s opening a conversation he half-expects Jihoon to physically run away from.
Jihoon eyes the door speculatively. It is tempting, but his pride revolts at the thought of being chased out of his own studio.
He glares at the mess of cables in front of him before straightening up and turning to face Seungcheol.
“What? What now?”
It comes out unnecessarily sharp, but Seungcheol just rolls his eyes, used to Jihoon’s prickliness. He comes over and sits on the edge of the desk. Jihoon sits in his chair and pulls his guitar into his lap, well aware of how defensive he looks, practically clutching it like a shield.
“I mean… with Mingyu. It’s okay.”
After Mingyu left two hours ago, Seungcheol hadn’t made any mention of that weird little moment they’d shared. Jihoon had really started to think he might be off the hook, and they’d never have to address it. Naive. Seungcheol was just being patient.
Jihoon scowls at the monitor in front of him.
“We really don’t need to talk about this.”
Seungcheol sighs rather dramatically. Jihoon keeps his eyes fixed forwards, unseeing.
“It’s okay, if you want him. I don’t mind, with you.”
Trust Seungcheol to just come out and say it like that. Jihoon grunts in frustration, and snaps out the first deflection that comes to mind:
“Oh, suddenly you’re not possessive and greedy?”
It’s weak and Jihoon knows it. Seungcheol pauses, then reaches out for the arm of Jihoon’s chair to roll him closer. He stays quiet until Jihoon reluctantly looks up at him.
Seungcheol’s expression is mildly puzzled and entirely open.
“When have I ever been possessive when it comes to sharing things with you, Jihoon-ah?”
It’s true. Jihoon could ask Seungcheol for anything right now — the clothes off his back, the new demo he’s so excited about, his ridiculous sports cars, or even, apparently, his boyfriend — and Seungcheol would give it all happily. Jihoon knows he’s always been the exception when it comes to Seungcheol’s greediness. If anything, Seungcheol gets greedy of Jihoon; of his attention, his regard, his best friend status.
They’ve always shared everything. It wouldn’t even be the first time they shared a person. It’s never been something that happens frequently, but over the years there have been nights where they take someone home together. One night stands, easy to enjoy and easy to let go, nothing they ever felt the need to discuss later except as pleasant or amusing memories.
The same goes for the rough handjobs they’ve occasionally exchanged when tension winds them up too tight. It’s always been a spur of the moment thing, seeking release so they can get on with their work. Jihoon, when he thinks about it at all, just considers it a side effect of being so enmeshed with another person. He and Seungcheol spend the majority of their time together and know each other too well. These things happen.
But this is different. Mingyu is different, and the way Jihoon has been thinking of him is different. He can’t approach it so casually, the way Seungcheol seems to be offering.
Jihoon just can’t go there, not yet.
“We could—”
“Cheol.”
Jihoon’s voice comes out slightly choked, and he reaches up to rub roughly at his face and shove his hair back. The entire conversation is suddenly too much to bear. He’s always hated feeling cornered, and right now he feels like a feral animal, ready to show teeth.
This needs to stop before Jihoon says something vicious. When he looks up at Seungcheol to try and communicate as much, he finds Seungcheol is already looking at him. There’s a gentle, understanding smile on his face.
“I’m going too far too fast, huh, Jihoonie?”
That’s exactly it. Jihoon can’t help the way his shoulders sag with relief. It’s a blessing and a curse to be so known, he thinks, but mostly a blessing. He doesn’t nod or otherwise agree with the words, but then, he doesn’t have to.
Seungcheol’s hand squeezes Jihoon’s shoulder lightly then falls back to the arm of his chair. A connection without the pressure of physical touch.
“Hyung understands. I won’t push.”
Jihoon rolls his eyes a little at Seungcheol pulling the hyung card, but he can’t deny that it is kind of comforting. He plucks mindlessly at the guitar in his lap, wondering how he can segue them out of this discussion, but it seems that Seungcheol isn’t quite finished, because he speaks up again.
“You should keep looking at him, though. Keep enjoying him.”
Jihoon opens his mouth to protest — this bullshit, right after he promised not to push? — but when he looks at Seungcheol, he realises he isn’t being suggestive or sly. He looks… thoughtful. Dreamy, if Jihoon was feeling lyrical. He’s staring off into the middle distance, his face full of affection. He doesn’t even notice Jihoon glaring at him.
“He’s so full of love, it just… flows out of him. If it reaches you too, then that’s good. That’s what I want. What he wants, too.”
Jihoon feels himself turning red. He has no idea how he can possibly respond.
Thankfully, Seungcheol lets the topic drop, switching back to planning the instrumental arrangement in their new track as if he’d never mentioned anything else.
Jihoon is more than happy to put the whole thing aside. Seungcheol’s words linger in his mind, though; the image they made. Mingyu, glowing with that inner light, not from the Hawaii sun but from all the love flowing out of him.