;;

Saturday is by far the best day of the week.

At least, that’s what Jeonghan thinks--until he wakes from a sickeningly annoying ringtone. He makes a mental note to never let Soonyoung borrow his phone again as reaches over blindly, and grabs the device off his nightstand.

“Hello?” he doesn’t even bother to sound remotely awake.

“Jeonghan?”

“Uh-huh. Who’s this?”

“Wonwoo. Are you okay? You sound kind of dead.”

“I’m fine, just--” Jeonghan yawns. “--Tired.”

Wonwoo heartily chuckles. “Did I wake you? What the hell, it’s already 10 a.m.”

“And?”

While Jeonghan tends to sleep a lot in general, he thinks this specific incident can be excused, especially because he had a legitimate reason for going to sleep late. He wonders if Mingyu made it home okay and hopes that he managed to patch things up with his mom.

“Whatever. Listen, I need you to do me a favor.” Wonwoo says this is a hushed voice.

Jeonghan rubs his eyes with his free hand. “Yeah?”

“This might sound weird, but I need you to come over and convince my mom that I have friends.”

Jeonghan’s incredulous, “You want me to lie to your mom?”

“Hey! It’s not lying, I have friends.”

“Sure you do.”

“I do!”

“Uh-huh and who are these so called ‘friends’ that you speak of?”

Wonwoo clears his throat.

“You.”

If Jeonghan was tired before, he wasn’t now. In fact, the lethargy drains out of his veins so fast that it rivals the battery life on his phone. Instead, he’s recharged with giddy excitement. He sits up, resting his back against fluffy pillows.

“Aww~” he coos. “You’re right, we are. No problem then, when should I come?”

“Thanks. Really. My mom might actually send me to the therapist because she thinks I have social anxiety. I might be emo, but I’m not that edgy.”

Jeonghan chuckles.

“I will text you the address, see you around 11? There’s no need to rush.”

“M’kay, bye.”

He hangs up and rolls off the bed, yelping slightly when his barefeet touch the cold floor. Jeonghan knows he doesn’t have to (especially because Wonwoo’s fashion sense doesn’t seem to be the most… put together) but going over to his house, and just to meet his parents, makes him feel obligated to look nice.

After his typical morning routine-- brushing his teeth, washing his face, putting on sunscreen and moisturizer, the whole nine yards-- he goes the extra mile to do his hair, and put on something nice. Digging through his walk in closet seems to be enough of a feat on its own, so trying to find the perfect outfit proves to be nearly impossible.

But Jeonghan pulls it off nonetheless, and settles for an oversized light pink sweater and skin-tight denim jeans. He looks laid-back and cute, assembling himself so that he appears chic and stylish but not too try-hard. Passing by a full body mirror on his way out, he checks himself out, brushing his hair behind his ear and pulling on his parka.

Wonwoo’s house, as it turns out, is only two blocks away from his own, a staggering five minute walk, possibly even a measly three if Jeonghan bothered to walk faster. He makes it to his house at exactly 11:00 on the dot and rings the doorbell.

Jeonghan stifles a laugh as he hears stumbling on the other side of the door, a loud crash and someone screaming “AH ,” seconds after. He recognizes Wonwoo’s low and husky voice even before the door opens, so he’s anything but shocked when he’s met with Wonwoo’s grimacing face.

“Hi~” Jeonghan singsongs as Wonwoo steps to the side to let him in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, stubbed my toe on the way down the stairs. Anyways, welcome.”

He leads them to the kitchen, reiterating his accident detail for detail, but Jeonghan is barely listening, too floored by the wafting smell of home cooked tteokbokki. He doesn’t realize he had skipped breakfast till now, his grumbling stomach a surefire sign of hunger.

“-- see the step was there. I literally flew ove-”

“Hey,” Jeonghan cuts him off. “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, that? My mom has this thing with proper hospitality so she making some lunch. She’s scared that she’s going to scare you away so spare her and play nice.”

They enter the kitchen, and he sees a woman, no taller than 155 cm, ladling soup into bowls. Her sleek hair is tied into a bun and she’s adorned in a floral apron.

“Mom,” Wonwoo calls out as she turns around, a smile gracing her features before Jeonghan can actually make out the entirety of her face.  

“Hi,” she calls out, excitement evident in her voice as she rushes over, brushing her hand on her apron. “I’m Wonwoo’s mom. Wait. You probably already know that. Err. Let me try that again. Hi, I’m--”

“Calm down,” Wonwoo laughs as he slings an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into a side hug.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just--,” she brings both her hands to cover as she squeals. “This is so exciting. I’m Mrs. Jeon, but you can just call me Younghee.”

She extends her hand out for a shake and Jeonghan accepts graciously.

“Nice to meet you, Younghee-ssi, I’m Yoon Jeonghan,” he bows at a 90 degree angle. “Thank you for having me here.”

Wonwoo’s mom turns pink and blotchy. If Jeonghan didn’t known any better, he’d think that she was about to cry.

“Oh my,” she pauses. “What a sweet boy.”

It turns out that she is crying as she wipes miniscule tears that form at the side of her eyes. “Such a sweet, sweet boy.”

Jeonghan insides warm as Wonwoo’s face heats up in embarrassment. “Moooom,” he groans. “Please, stop.”

Younghee turns around to properly wipe the tears away from her face. “Yes, you’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” She turns back. “I’m not usually like this.”

Jeonghan laughs, tilting his head to the side. “It’s okay, miss. But it’s nice to see where Wonwoo gets his cute side from.”

“OH MY GOODNESS. WONWOO, HE’S A KEEPER.”

At this point, Wonwoo’s facial color exceeds that of pink and transcends into a whole new realm of red. The color rivals that of a tomato. “Oh my god, this cannot be happening.”

He puts his hand on the small of Jeonghan’s back and starts to push him out of the kitchen. “We’re leaving you alone so you can compose yourself. Call us down when food’s ready.”

Once outside, Wonwoo grabs his hand-- intentionally or not, Jeonghan doesn’t know-- and starts to pull him up the stairs. It’s a weird sensation, Wonwoo’s fingers, long, large and lanky juxtapose Jeonghan’s own small soft ones. Jeonghan’s hands are engulfed completely by Wonwoo’s, tucked away cozily in between the nooks of the knuckles.  It doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, it’s warm and comforting and feels strangely like home.

He’s almost sad when Wonwoo lets go to close his bedroom door.

“This,” he begins. “Is where I spend most of my life sulking.”

The room is by no means big, but it’s spacious enough so that Jeonghan doesn’t feel cramped. By the window, is a twin sized bed adorned in blackish grey cover sheets and matching comforters. A desk is tucked in the corner of the room, and there’s a bookshelf aligned against the wall. Multiple band posters litter the white walls.Other than that, it was relatively empty.

“Sit,” Wonwoo demands, sinking himself onto his bed and patting the spot next to him.

Jeonghan obliges, leaning his back against the pillows. “What do you want to do?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t really plan for you to come today. But we have video games, books, board games. Uh, pokemon trading cards?”

“Or,” Jeonghan laughs. “We could talk.”

Wonwoo scrunches up his nose. “I didn’t know people still do that.”

“Well, it’s really easy. You open your mouth and there’s something called vocal chords--”

Wonwoo lightly nudges Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Alright, I get it. What do you want to talk about?”

Jeonghan pouts his lips. “Anything. It doesn’t have to be awkward, y’know.”

“What do you mean? I’m practically the definition of awkward. You don’t get a Wonwoo without an awkward, It’s a buy one get one deal.”

“It’s a wonder how you’re related to your mom. She’s an actual sweetheart.”

Wonwoo cringes. “Oh my god, don’t mention her. She’s too much.”

Jeonghan coos and pokes at Wonwoo’s stomach. “Aw, you’re embarrassed.”

Wonwoo laughs, squirming at Jeonghan’s tickles. “Stop it,” he whines, but his voice had no venom.

Jeonghan eventually relents, and leans his head on Wonwoo shoulder. Again, he’s shocked at how well his head fits into the crack between Wonwoo’s shoulder and jaw-- it’s like the association between the sun and the moon, despite representing completely different things.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, breath rates unknowingly syncing.  

“Hey,” Jeonghan starts, “What about your dad?”

“Hm?”

“Your dad? I only met your mom so where’s your dad?”

“Oh him?” Wonwoo says nonchalantly. “He’s busy working at his underground meth lab. He has to work extra hours because this secret mafia from China ordered a ton of drugs.”

Jeonghan’s mouth drops open. “Wait wha--?”

Wonwoo laughs, doubling over. “I’m kidding, calm down. I can’t believe you actually believed me. My dad’s out with his old college friends, you’ll meet him soon.”

;;

“What do you mean he’s not here?” Jisoo says as Mrs. Jung, Jeonghan’s adoptive mom, leads him out of the house.

“Sorry, Jisoo, he left early this morning. Something about going to a friend’s house?”

Jisoo frowns, eyebrows scrunching together uncomfortably as he bid goodbye. If he wasn’t at home, and he wasn’t with him, then where else could Jeonghan be? His mind immediately wanders to Seungcheol, and Jisoo’s frown deepens that it borders that of a scowl.

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

To: Hannie

From: Joshuji

Where r u?

Jisoo waits for a reply, mindlessly kicking a pebble as he walks to no place in general, but gives up after five minutes to no avail. It’s a heartbreaking feeling, as he thinks back to only two years ago, when Jeonghan would always invite him to whatever miniature adventure he had planned.

Falling in love is no straight road-- in fact, it’s so bumpy that’s it can’t even be called a road because no one could possibly walk on it. Jisoo would know, he’s felt this expansion and recession far too many times. On good days, Jeonghan would be stuck to his side like a piece of gum-- except Jisoo likes the gum and wouldn’t mind chewing it no matter how old it is. (Wow, he’s definitely losing his mind).

On bad days, Jeonghan would be particularly flippant, going to bakery with Seungcheol, staying after school with Wonwoo, and doing who knows what with Mingyu. Jisoo knows he has a problem-- especially when his thoughts are constantly consumed about his best friend’s whereabouts, and how possessive he gets when Jeonghan spends time with other people.

But it’s a love he doesn’t want to let go of-- because every time he closes his eyes, he can only see fond memories, memories of them together-- huddled under blanket forts at seven, singing songs together at ten, holding each other at twelve-- Jeonghan can only be a kaleidoscope of happy reminiscences and stableness.  

“Hey, Jisoo!” he hears someone call his name and whips his head around only to see Hansol waving from the other end of the street. He gestures him over and Jisoo complies.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Hansol shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m going with Seungkwan to the nearby cafe. You wanna come?”

Jisoo narrows his eyes. “Why?”

If Hansol caught on to Jisoo’s suspicion, he didn’t let on. “Nothing--Seungkwan can talk too much sometimes and it’s hard to keep up.”

In the end, Jisoo agrees.

Seungkwan, as it turns out, does in fact talk way too much. Possibly too much to be healthy for an average lung. That boy has a vital capacity of a monster.

“--and I was shocked that he said that to me! I mean, I’m ing gorgeous, and he’s by comparison. But no, he decided to--”

Hansol, contrary to his claim, soaks in every word Seungkwan says like an overly porous sponge. It’s a funny sight, really, as Jisoo rests his head on his palm and barely registers anything that is said, Hansol shakes his head like an eager bobblehead and provides the necessary “Really??”, “He didn’t!” and “Ohh~, what?” when deemed fit.

“And, yeah. That was my day,” Seungkwan shrugs, placing his lips on the tip of his coffee straw and sips. “What about you?”

“I have no life,” Hansol pouts, ruffling his hair exasperatedly, “Why does nothing ever happen to me?”

Seungkwan sets his cup down on the table and places his hand over his heart, lips forming into an overly sympathetic frown.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he reaches over and grabs Hansol’s hand, “I happened to you.”

Hansol seems to light up at that, immediately straightening up, “You’re right,” he agrees, “And that’s the best thing that could ever happen.”

Jisoo shifts uncomfortably in his seat, using every bit of willpower to hold back a gag when Seungkwan giggles loudly and doubles over in a blush.

“Aw, stop it, you!”  

It’s at this point when Jisoo decides he most definitely has had enough and clears his throat, “Um, am I interrupting something? Should I go? I don’t really like third wheeling couples.”

He thinks back to Jeonghan’s first boyfriend, Dong Woo. It ended with a carton of ice cream, and two full weeks of sobs and cuddling (not to mention a broken tooth and black eye, courtesy of Jisoo, of course). He shudders at the memory.

Seungkwan is utterly baffled at Jisoo’s comment. “Couple? Us- me and him?-- why we would never, I couldn’t even compr--- how did you know??”

Jisoo raises an eyebrow at that. “Uh-- “

“We were so discreet about it, weren’t we Hansolie?” Seungkwan looks over expectantly, but Hansol is reduced to a blabbering mess, face red and flushed.

“I mean,” Jisoo scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You guys are always all over each other, so-- one would assume--”

“ALRIGHT,” Seungkwan says dramatically, cutting Jisoo off. “You caught us. Hansol and I are dating. Yes, yes, shocking, I know--but we’ve been dating for a few months now.”

Jisoo can only open and close his mouth like a fish. “Uh, did we not establish that?”

“Our story is actually pretty sweet,” Hansol finally interjects. “Kwannie and I were best friends--”

“--still are best friends--”

“--for, hmm, probably about ten years now?”

Jisoo’s heart starts to ache as he thinks of how lucky they are, best friends to lovers, a reality Jisoo’s only ever dreamed of.

His phone buzzes in his jean pocket, and he's in too much of a hurry to check who replied to notice that Seungkwan and Hansol’s rang too.

“Jeonghan just texted me,” Seungkwan says. “Something about going over to Wonwoo’s?”

Hansol nods. “Weird, he texted me the same thing.”

Jisoo starts to stand up. “Okay, then let's go.”

But what he doesn't mention is that Jeonghan had texted him something extra:

To: Joshuji

From: Hannie

Come to Wonwoo’s house now.

Jisoo you better get your sorry here this instant. Love you.

;;

Seungcheol regrets everything-- and by everything, he means everything to do with his dad.

( 2 hours before…

“Son, where do you think you’re going?” Mr. Choi said from where he sat at the coffee table.

Seungcheol stopped only steps away from the front door, he mentally groaned. “Uh, the park?”

He heard his dad sigh. “Come here.”

Defeated, chest deflated, Seungcheol made his way into the living room, “Yes?”

Seungcheol’s dad slid a huge tome across the glass table-- “Here,” he says tersely.

Seungcheol’s eyebrow shot so far up his forehead, that it reached his hairline, “Are you giving this to me, or….?”

His dad stood up, placing his mug softly on the coaster (wouldn’t want to anger Mama Choi), “It’s very interesting, I read this when I was your age, too. Study it. Now.”

He walked by, patting Seungcheol lightly on the shoulder as he did so. “No more wasting time with that ball of yours, son. Things are serious now.” )

And that’s how Seungcheol ended up locked in his room-- literally- his dad is standing right outside in the hallways like a guard dog this very moment.

Seungcheol flips through the pages of the book, barely registering anything that is written with his half awake brain.

Suddenly, his phone lights up from the corner of the table-- it lights up with God sent message from above.

“Thank you,” Seungcheol whispers as he picks up.

To: Cheollie

From: Han

Come to Wonwoo’s house now.

Five minutes later, Seungcheol’s got one foot on the ledge of his window, the other on the branch of the tree conveniently planted right outside his bedroom.

;;

“No, you !”

The door closes right in front of Mingyu's face, but only after he receives his seventh slap that day-- on the same cheek, at that. He could be doing more fun things.

He woke up this morning, again in the same chilly room, on the same creaky bed, same empty house-- but this time, his mother bothered to leave him what he assumed was an attempt at an omelette. He’s only got Jeonghan to thank for that.

Changed, reborn, a new person (or so he tells himself), he leaves the house in the morning ready to right all his wrongs-- that is, knock on the door of every single girl whose heart he broke and ask for forgiveness-- like the responsible, and mature adult he is.

Karma’s a .

Mingyu sighs as he rubs his sore cheek, turning the corner just as he receives a text. Pulling his phone out of the pocket, his face brightens as he see’s a text from just the person he was hoping for.

To: Gyu~

From: Han

Come to Wonwoo’s house now

A convoluted feeling erupts as Mingyu’s core as he thinks, what the is he doing at Wonwoo’s? Empowered with new energy, he walks-- runs -- to the attached address.

;;

Wonwoo squirms uncomfortably from where he sits on his living room couch, squished between Jun and Jeonghan.

“Uh,” he begins, shifting left and right, “Is everyone here?”

Jeonghan nods happily as Mingyu walks back from the kitchen, a cup of hot tea in his hand. “Of course, we wouldn’t want to leave anyone out, would we?”

Wonwoo groans, burying his hands in his hair,

“And besides,” Jeonghan continues, “We all have a lot of things to talk about.” He pats Wonwoo’s knee comfortingly.

From the corner of his eye, he sees, no feels, Jisoo glaring holes into the side of his head, Seungcheol is no better, not when he’s puffing his chest indignantly, trying shamelessly to evoke manliness. Wonwoo stifles a chuckle. It seems as if Mingyu’s the only normal one, sitting nonchalantly on the arm chair, with his legs crossed.

What a weird bunch.

Seungkwan’s practically on Hansol’s lap (there’s definitely something going on there) as Soonyoung tries to chug down the barley tea like it’s beer. Seokmin is belching out notes that have not been reached in the natural world while Minghao is... Bboying on his carpet?

Wonwoo lets out another exasperated groan as Jeonghan laughs heartily, no doubt sensing Wonwoo’s discomfort.

“Hey,” he says, “It could be worse, at least nothing’s broken yet.”

Too soon, too soon, Wonwoo thinks, as Chan trips over Jihoon’s leg, knocking into Minghao, causing him to topple over a vase in the corner of the room.

“Why’s Chan here again?”

“Ah, him?” Jeonghan tilts his head with a weird motherlike look in his eyes. “He’s just so cute, I couldn’t not text him! Just look at him, oh my heart, I’m deceased.”

Wonwoo turns his head to look at Chan, who was busy doing fifty 90 degree bows per minute in apology.

“Uh huh.”

The front door suddenly opens and the commotion momentarily pauses. Wonwoo’s dad, clad in suit and tie steps into the living room, with eyes weary and old but still alight with kindness and hearth, and a knowing smile that only wise grandfathers could ever properly achieve.

“Wonwoo, introduce me to all your friends. I didn’t know you had so many! Last time I checked, you had none.” His dad chuckles as Younghee walks in and takes the briefcase from his hand.

“Apparently,” she begins, pecking her husband’s cheek, “This boy-- Jeonghan-- introduced them.”

Jeonghan stands when he’s mentioned, but Mr. Jeon seemed to know who he was even before. His muscles slacken-- smile not completely gone, but instead fades into a nostalgic grin and his eyes cloud over with something Wonwoo associates with recognition.

The room is silent-- even Seokmin’s stopped screaming as Jeonghan bows. “Hi, sir, nice to meet you, I’m--”

“Yoon Jeonghan,” Mr. Jeon walks past where Jihoon still lay sprawled on the floor, he approaches until he towers over Jeonghan’s frame. “Yes, of course.”

It’s a weird sight, watching his dad interact with his perhaps closest friend like this, but Wonwoo’s too immersed to care.

Mr. Jeon raises his hand and pats Jeonghan’s head in a strange fatherly way, gently pulling out a knot in his hair. Jeonghan only stares at him in shock with eyes wide and blushed cheeks. It's a picturesque scene from the movies-- like a reunion between two long lost family members.

“Uh,” Wonwoo clears his throat, breaking the trance. Mr. Jeon immediately retracts his hand and clears his throat as well, stepping backwards a few times to create some distance.

“Er, uh, yes, nice to meet you Jeonghan,” he walks back to Younghee as Jeonghan does another bow. Wonwoo pulls him back down to his seat.

Mr. Jeon laughs. “Sorry to interrupt you guys’ fun. Carry on, I will be in the kitchen with your mom.” He leaves, but not before taking Younghee’s hand and leading them out.

“That… was weird,” Seungkwan says, frowning.

“Jeonghan, do you know him?” Jisoo asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He walks over and sits on the floor by Jeonghan’s legs-- it was a protective gesture, Wonwoo could tell.

But Jeonghan is too shocked to reply-- his lips are slightly parted as he stares into the empty space in front of him.

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo repeats and shakes his knee.

Jeonghan wakes up from his daze-- “Uh, sorry, what?”

“Do you know him?”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

If anything, Wonwoo’s creeped out as . But Soonyoung screeches before the atmosphere could deteriorate any more.

“Ayyy,” he begins, “Let’s just forget about whatever that was and do something fun, alright?”

Seokmin nods, immediately joining in, “Yes, please.”

Seungkwan rubs his hands together. “Let’s play a game, I vote spin the bottle. “

Seungcheol snorts. “What are we? Twelve?”

Chan frowns. “But, I like that game… I used to play it at my sleepaway camp…”

At that, all the energy seemed to flow back into Jeonghan’s veins. “Yes,” he practically shouts. “Let’s play spin the bottle!”

Wonwoo raises his eyebrow and sighs, the power of motherly love.

Seungcheol laughs nervously. “Because I love being twelve! It was my favorite age?….a...ha..ha”

Mingyu frowns at him at him disapprovingly. “Sure, Hannie. Whatever you want.”

They rearranged themselves in a circle on the floor while Wonwoo goes to the kitchen to grab and empty water bottle.

“...his father.” Wonwoo could recognize the voice of his dad anywhere.

“Oh dear, poor child. What should we do, honey? Should we tell him?”

His mom’s voice gets more high pitched when she’s crying. In this case, her voice could possibly crack glass.

“I don’t know, Younghee. But his father---”

“Wonwoo!”

His mom spots him from where he lurked in the corner. He steps into the light and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Don’t mind me. Just here to get a bottle.”

He walks by and grabs a bottle from the recycling bin. While he keeps an indifferent demeanor (or at least, he hopes he does), inside his brain is a jumble of questions that all seven seas would not be enough to quench his curiosity.

Who were they talking about? Jeonghan? And why was his mom crying? And whose father were they talking about?

He shakes it off as he reenters the living room, taking a seat in between Minghao and Jun as he throws the bottle into the middle.

“You know the rules,” Soonyoung says as he spins the bottle. “A penalty for every question you can’t answer.”

The bottle lands on Mingyu-- but he isn’t fazed.

“Oh, how fun!” Soonyoung claps his hands. “Err, Mingyu, how many girls have you dated these past 4 years--wait no, scratch that, your entire life?”

Mingyu shrugs. “Too many to count, probably.”

The reactions around the circle are varied. Hansol seemed mildly-- even if it's the tiniest bit-- impressed while Minghao rolled his eyes.

The game continues until the bottle finally lands on Jeonghan.

“Do you like someone, and if you do, who?” Seungkwan asks mischievously with a smirk.

The air in the room stills-- Seungcheol straightens with anticipation, Jisoo frowns and bites his lip in worry, even Mingyu’s eyebrows furrow.

Jeonghan, from across the circle, looks up and makes eye contact with Wonwoo, seconds before he answers. A weird feeling bubbles down at the pits of Wonwoo’s stomach-- something like hope as Jeonghan opens his mouth.

“Minhyuk. Lee Minhyuk.”
 

[A/N] What a ride. Chapter very unbeta'd so please bare with me. 

I think I'm going to post monthly, but if I have time, I will post every two weeks. Thanks to everyone who upvoted/ commented / subscribed because honestly it means so much to me. 

Post script: you guys can @ me at 10jeonghan04 on instagram.