Double update day! Don't forget to read chapter 15~

(title is from Andy Black's Homecoming King)

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When Hakyeon arrives home, a little past eight p.m. it’s to an empty house. He stops by the door and frowns, confused; it’s a Monday night, and Sanghyuk only has morning classes, Taekwoon doesn’t work. Why aren’t they home?

He closes and locks the door behind him, taking off his shoes afterwards. He sits on the ratty, uncomfortable couch and picks his phone, unlocking the screen – a picture of him with Taekwoon and Sanghyuk, the former using a bright pink hair clip to tie recently dyed hair in an apple like hairstyle while the latter tried to open a whole on the phone by glaring at it, aiming for intimidating and failing for his face was covered by an hydration mask – and calling Taekwoon first. Sanghyuk often gets lost on his projects, convincing just about anyone he wanted to be part of them, manipulating people to carry his stuff for him and so on; Taekwoon isn’t like that. He likes to have a schedule for everything, and is very diligent with texting.

When he doesn’t answer, Hakyeon tries Sanghyuk, with the same result. He attempts half a dozen times for each of them, without answer.

He starts to worry, chewing his bottom lip in a habit acquired from Taekwoon, tasting the remnants of his cherry chapstick; not one to do nothing, he goes to the kitchen to fix himself dinner. There’s Sunday’s leftovers on the fridge, and it’ll do. Putting it on the microwave, he waits. When it beeps, he picks his food and sits on the same place, mixing the contents in the bowl before starting to eat quietly.

Hakyeon startles a little when his phone dings chirpily; it’s a text from Wonshik.

srry couldn’t resist txtin u 2 say u made my day 2day

Oh, this boy is ridiculous. But cute, in a way.

Why’s that, Wontak?

hahaha ¬¬ dun act coy

You love it~~

yeah yeah w/e. u know what i’m talkin abt… thx 4 givin me another chance

Oh, Wonshik, so adorable Hakyeon smiles around a mouthful.

Ur welcome ;)

They continue to talk – as if they hadn’t spent a good couple of hours doing just that, during lunch and beginning of afternoon – even when Hakyeon’s food is ready. He eats absently, texting Wonshik and giggling every few minutes, inexplicably giddy with the attention bestowed upon him; not that he’s lonely or that there isn’t a dozen of people every block wanting him, but with the Literature student things feel a bit… different. It’s been a long time since Hakyeon has had a crush, and he can tell he’s starting to develop one towards the younger. Wonshik is handsome and earnest and funny and so damn strong Hakyeon wants to jump him so he can see for how long the other can hold him.

It isn’t a bad feeling, especially when he knows Wonshik is already interested on him. He will play difficult for a little longer and then… well, then they can do things. Who knows, maybe Hakyeon will finally get himself a boyfriend; one night stands and open relationships aren’t for him, at least, they stopped being after one more day waking up on a stranger’s bed alone. Being gay on South Korea is hard, and he’s grateful for Taekwoon’s clear lack of interest in any gender and Sanghyuk’s too menacing presence scaring away anyone interested. The youngest of their trio is exactly that, too young and too scarred – and too his, mind his supplies helpfully – to jump into a relationship with either a boy or a girl, not that Hakyeon can pinpoint which gender he seems to prefer. This way they won’t suffer on the hands of underserving people.

Taekwoon choses this moment to arrive, light blond hair messy and clothes disheveled. It isn’t a look he often sees on his lifelong friend.

“What happened to you Woonie? You’re looking like hell.”

A small glare is sent his way as Taekwoon takes off his shoes. “Ahn-seonsaeng-nim asked my help on a play.”

“Oooh, which one? Full House again?” Hakyeon rests his chin on his hands, smiling happily at the other. Honestly, he thinks Taekwoon would be an incredible musical actor, even better than he is as a compositor. A voice like his shouldn’t be wasted.

He sighs, shaking his head in negative. “Mata Hari.”

“Sounds foreign.”

A very small smile, and a nod.

“I bet you put those cocky actors on their places,” he wiggles his brows and is rewarded by the immediate warmth that melts all the icy façade Taekwoon wears daily, consciously or not. This, this is Hakyeon’s favorite Taekwoon expression: the soft curl of his lips, his shining eyes, his pink cheeks at being complimented. The only one that surpasses this is when he outright laughs, a rare, precious occurrence.

“I did,” Taekwoon agrees, never – too – shy of his talent. “What seonsaeng-nim didn’t tell me was that it was a real audition.”

With wide eyes, Hakyeon stands, walking towards him; he puts his hands on Taekwoon’s broad shoulders and squeezes lightly, reassuringly. Here comes the worry again, making itself presence in his gut. “A real audition, in like, you’re going to perform in a real theatre for a real paying audience?”

“Yes,” the younger leans on his touch, head dipping to hide in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. This close, he realizes the slight tremble of Taekwoon’s body, how his skin is a little too hot. Hakyeon suppresses a delighted squeal when it hits him: Taekwoonie is embarrassed!

Cute, cute, cute!

“Awn Woonie,” he coos at the younger, hugging his shoulders, bringing him closer to his body, “You said yourself you did well; besides, seonsaeng-nim would ever do something to harm you. The man wants you to change courses since your second year.”

“Still,” comes the muffled whine. Taekwoon’s hands on his waist tighten.

Going against all instincts that demand him to cuddle the crap out of him, Hakyeon gently puts some distance between their bodies, staring straight into Taekwoon’s dark, dark eyes, ignoring his flushed cheeks and eyes that look at everything but him.

“Stop, Taekwoon. Everything is gonna be alright, you’ll see. Calm down,” he bumps the other’s forehead, using his scolding voice. “If you really, really don’t want to be a part of the musical, talk to teacher tomorrow.”

Taekwoon finally lifts his eyes, and his bottom lip into his mouth, like he does every time he’s thinking hard or attempting to come up with words, before settling on a simple, “Okay.”

“Okay!” Hakyeon pinches his cheeks before kissing one of them, excited with the idea of seeing his lifelong friend on a stage, not to help a teacher, but as a real actor and singer. Taekwoon is so talented, so full of life when singing that despite his love for the songs he composes – sad, melancholy pieces and alluring, y melodies – Hakyeon would rather watch him on a stage. “Wait till Hyuk hears about it! He’ll be so excited!”

Taekwoon snorts. “Hm.”

“It’s true,” Hakyeon insists, before pausing. “Speaking of him, do you know where he is?”

Taekwoon blinks repeatedly, shaking his head. He looks at the clock above the kitchen’s sink, catching his bottom lip with his teeth again. There’s uneasiness on his eyes, and his shoulders are stiff underneath Hakyeon’s hands. Following his gaze, Hakyeon notices that is already a quarter to ten p.m. and that even for Sanghyuk, it’s too late. The boy has classes early in the morning, and he always complains when he doesn’t get as much sleep as he wants. For him to be taking so long…

Anxiety flips and turns the contents of his stomach, and he feels sick. Suddenly everything he ate is sour and his mouth is dry, his throat constricting around nothing as his eyes water. Here he is, home and doing nothing while Sanghyuk is out there, who knows how; maybe he is sprawled on some dingy alley after being mugged, maybe he fell and cracked his skull and is slowly bleeding out on an empty building. What if… What if…!

He doesn’t realize he’s breathing harshly before Taekwoon’s hands cup his neck, thumbs caressing his cheeks. There’s no enough air on his lungs, they burn. “Breathe with me Hakyeon, come on,” Taekwoon takes a deep breath, slow and exaggerated, signing for him to follow. “Count with me… One, two, three…”

Doing what he’s told, Hakyeon in air, letting it fill his lungs, releasing it through his mouth, counting to three mentally. Eventually his breathing regulates and the tears blurring his eyesight aren’t threatening to spill. A slight sense of embarrassment burns his neck and face – he’s grateful for having a darker skin than most; flushing is not exactly cool and is too giving of his true emotions when away from home – for having lost his composure so easily.

It’s just that… Sanghyuk is one of the most important people to him. Has been since the day they met years ago, on a night of early January, when the streets were white with snow and red from Sanghyuk’s blood. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if something indeed happened to the youngest of their trio; just the idea causes his chest to squeeze painfully and only Taekwoon cold hands make him keep control.

“Sanghyuk is fine,” he affirms even with his worried eyes.

Hakyeon nods weakly, leaning forward to grip the back of Taekwoon’s sweater, hooking his chin on the other’s broad shoulder. Taekwoon sighs loudly against his hair, one hand holding his head in place while the other travels to his back. His arms are good to provide the comfort he normally can’t deliver with his words, and Hakyeon is grateful for having such a good friend.

“When he’s home I’m going to neck-chop him so hard he’ll get on crick on it for a week,” he attempts to lighten the mood, smiling feebly at Taekwoon’s snort.

“If you can reach him…”

“That damn kid is unfairly tall. I’m the oldest here, Hyuk is barely out of his teens.”

And speaking of the Devil, Sanghyuk opens the door to their apartment, backpack hanging from one shoulder and platinum hair – the roots are showing, he needs to redo the dye – covering his eyes, appearing perfectly fine. He pauses for a moment at seeing them – on the middle of the living room, hugging – and the rolls his eyes, continuing with the taking off of his shoes.

Irritation substitutes the worry and panic; Taekwoon holds him more tightly, caging him in to avoid a violent confrontation. Hakyeon is a second away from slapping Sanghyuk’s face bright red and his expression must show his intent, since Sanghyuk stops again, ever present frown becoming deeper.

“Where. Were. You?” he asks pointedly, pushing at Taekwoon’s chest, whom silently lets him go, but maintains a hand on his arm.

Sanghyuk opens his mouth to say something, closing it a second later, scowling. Then, “Out.”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” Hakyeon mocks, crossing his arms, aiming for his most disappointed tone. “What was keeping you for so long, without answering your phone?”

Their youngest actually looks sheepish, glancing down. “The battery died and I didn’t have my charger.”

Okay, that’s something he can accept. One out of many. “But where were you?”

“It’s past ten,” Taekwoon’s prying is surprising; he’s not one to say anything when the oldest and youngest are arguing. Huh. He was more worried than Hakyeon imagined.

Sanghyuk thinks the same as him; he loses some of his defensive posture, his brow not that furrowed. “I was with a… friend.”

This time Hakyeon frowns; Sanghyuk, with a friend? By his side, Taekwoon’s eyes have widened slightly.

Sanghyuk doesn’t have friends, and as bad as it sounds, the three are perfectly fine with it, because the situation is the same for the other two. Or course, Hakyeon has colleagues whom he chats with and juniors he helps, but not other friend. Taekwoon is the same on a much greater scale; he avoids crowds as much as humanly possible – he ignores the image that pops on his mind, of an annoyingly pretty boy flashing cute dimples and big almond eyes to steal Taekwoon away – and Hakyeon’s sure there’s people on his class who haven’t heard his voice yet, despite studying with him for the past five years. Sanghyuk has minions, people he bosses around campus when working on something new, not friends. In fact, he’s the one who says he doesn’t need anyone else.

“A… friend?”

“Yes,” the defensive posture is back, setting Sanghyuk’s shoulder into a tense line, “a friend.”

“Doing what?” he realizes he’s being too intrusive, but he can’t help it; this situation is completely foreign to him, and he hates not having control of things. Sanghyuk is his.

For one long instant the boy looks ready to snarl a response; then he deflates. “We were working on an assignment.”

It clicks. “That boy you said you loathed?” his voice is more high-pitched than he planned, breaking on the word, “You’re all buddy-buddy with him now?” the though is abhorrent for some reason, and anger boils in his blood for Sanghyuk’s unusual fickle perspective.

“He’s… not that bad, really,” Sanghyuk doesn’t meet his gaze, hands behind his body and bouncing on his heels like a child. “A little eccentric and a lot infuriating, but… not exactly bad.”

While the words are painful for Sanghyuk to say, judging his scrunched up nose and resigned turn of lips, it can’t compare to the inner turmoil Hakyeon is in the middle of.

Who is this boy? He isn’t his Hyukkie, can’t be him. His Hyukkie is cocky and frown-y and insolent; he’s possessive and silently gentle when needed to be. The boy in front of him is non-confrontational, deflating instead of snarking when faced with a question he didn’t want to answer and actually answering to it; he’s uncannily juvenile when his Sanghyuk likes to think he’s the most mature of the three, and worse of all, he’s sharing about his feelings on something apparently very personal.

He needs to meet this boy Sanghyuk is meeting; who can he be to have this effect on Sanghyuk? The only information he has is that whoever this boy is, he’s an Arts student Sanghyuk has to work with in a project for a teacher he hates. Not a week ago he was complaining, mad and moody about this boy who didn’t fear him, who apparently had said some things to Sanghyuk’s face that displeased him. What such drastic change in mentality could mean?

Maybe… No, that’s not possible.

But perhaps… No, no, no.

Sanghyuk can’t like someone! No!

He won’t lose him or Taekwoon!

The world seems suspended to him, his ears listening to the soft chatter of the two boys as if he’s submerged, sounds distorted and distant.

“Go to bed, it’s late.”

“Yeah, yeah hyung. I’ll take a shower first and eat something, I’m starving.”

“I’ll make something quick.”

“Really?! Yes! You’re the best, Taekwoon-hyung!

“…”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Hakyeon startles when a hand lands on his shoulder; Taekwoon worries his bottom lip with his teeth yet his gaze is steady. He has seen his inner turmoil, and wishes to know if he’s alright, if there’s anything he can do to make things better.

When he speaks, his voice is weak. “I’m fine,” the gaze upon him hardens, “for real. Sanghyuk simply caught me by surprise– Doesn’t it worry you, Taekwoon? This sudden friendship with someone he hated not a week ago?”

“Sanghyuk’s an adult.”

“Sanghyuk’s a kid.”

“Not anymore.”

He opens his mouth to refute – memories of a gangly wild boy, alone and angry pass through his eyes – but the words get stuck on his throat. He sighs instead, rubbing his temple to smooth the wrinkles of anxiety. The lurch of his stomach remains, like the tightening of his chest at the mere idea of Sanghyuk withdrawing from him.

Distraction. What he needs is a distraction.

For the corner of his eyes, he sees the screen of his phone light up as it lies on the kitchen’s counter, together with his forgotten, half-eaten meal. He picks it up, noticing a new message.

From Wonshik; perfect. Exactly the distraction he needs.

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Jaehwan stares at the drawing beneath him where sad blue eyes, full of longing and dejection stare back at him from a beautiful, feminine face.

Her eyes are a lot like Sanghyuk’s, and their conversation earlier that day brings him an unexpected amount of sorrow.

After Sanghyuk’s mini freak-out – seriously, that boy needs to chill – and his oh so wise advice, they’d spend the rest of the day talking, not only about their project and anime, but about everything Jaehwan could come up with; the younger was… different, in a way, less confrontational and more pensive, his brown eyes hazed with he could assume were Hakyeon-oriented thoughts. At one point – he pretended not to notice the place was empty when it happened – Sanghyuk asked for a chocolate milk drink and for a piece of ice cream cake, pouting childishly when the ice cream melted quicker than he could eat it. Despite not being exactly happier, he definitely looked lighter when he started to talk about all the great and not-so-great things about Hakyeon.

Jaehwan can probably describe in detail all the shades of Hakyeon’s hair when the sun hits it just right in the morning and his annoying habit of leaving his chapsticks uncapped and all over their house; how Hakyeon has the warmest, gentlest hands and the fact that he totally watches the shopping channels when he thinks no one’s looking.

The kid clearly has no one to talk about his massive, mother of all crushes.

The worst part: Jaehwan doesn’t think Sanghyuk even noticed all the stuff he told him, too engrossed on his thoughts and on feelings that for him, were unrequired; sad, sad eyes Jaehwan can’t erase from his mind staring beyond him.

This bet is making him more and more uncomfortable. When he and Sanghyuk were in bad terms, his uneasiness came from all the work he would have to put in order to somehow win Sanghyuk over but now that they have found a semblance of balance, both working together and interacting mostly peacefully, Jaehwan feels foul, as if not telling Sanghyuk and his friends about the bet is slowly making a layer of grime cover his skin, burying him under it.

Damn it all to hell!