The next morning swells into an uneasy bubble of nervous giggles and unexplained murmurs. Jeonghan fumbles with his shirt collar for a good ten minutes, adrenaline pulsing through his hands and sending his knees weak at the thought of actually seeing Seungcheol. His stiff knuckles cringe at the unexpected attention he's lavishing on his shirt, hair, and stubborn eyebags. It's simultaneously the most alive he's felt and the most he's wanted to stop existing. Something about seeing Seungcheol at the train station, leaning against a pillar and lazily scrolling through his phone, a gummy smile unveiling slowly, mirroring the twinkle in his eyes -  it makes Jeonghan want to throw up. In a good way. He hopes.

The weight on his shoulders does not let up.

Jeonghan smoothes on a smile, and checks it in the mirror. He pinches his cheeks for some colour, and abruptly feels silly. He has a boyfriend now. He has someone waiting for him at the train station - not that Seungcheol didn't do so previously, but this is something special. Strange, but definitely not bad. Jeonghan his lips and presses a clammy hand to his forehead. He checks his face in the mirror again, and wants to laugh at how ordinary he looks.

"A boyfriend," he whispers, and his reflection pales a little more with the changing light. "I have a boyfriend."

A chill runs down his spine - like the casual caress of fingers against his back. He tries not to flinch.

Every step to the station is fraught with caution; Jeonghan experiences everything at once - the sharpness of every rectangular parcel of light, the shrill mumble of passengers brushing past him, the metallic taste of anticipation ebbing at his tongue. He presses his feet - heel, toe, heel, toe - in a slow ascension on the platform, following the small flecks of yellow caution on the floor. 

Jeonghan peeks up, and sighs in one part relief. Seungcheol is there, waiting patiently, biting his lips. Jeonghan thinks he should be happier at the sight. 

"Hey," Seungcheol says, looking up and meeting his gaze. He breaks into a coy smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Jeonghan mumbles back, lowering his gaze to face something less threatening - the second button on Seungcheol's jacket is slightly chipped. 

"You okay?" Seungcheol says, slinging an arm around Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan looks back at Seungcheol's face, and blows at a stray piece of hair. "Yes. It's just really. New."

Seungcheol takes his hand, and grins. "Yeah. Yeah - I, um."

Seungcheol presses his face into Jeonghan's hair, and Jeonghan smiles a little at that - Seungcheol's embarrassment and clumsy attempts at acting normal are kind of endearing. Jeonghan reaches out and combs through Seungcheol's hair. There's a small giggle, and it fills up Jeonghan's chest with a pink glowing sensation. Jeonghan marvels at the softness of Seungcheol's hair, and feels a smile threatening to burst from his lips.

In a fit of inspiration and adoration, Jeonghan whispers, "Cheol."

Seungcheol gasps, and detaches himself from Jeonghan's hair. "What did you say?"

"Cheol," Jeonghan says again, biting his lip. 

Seungcheol beams, nose scrunching up in a way that makes Jeonghan want to remember this forever. "Say it again."

Jeonghan twists away from Seungcheol's grip, feeling his ears heat up. Seungcheol tightens his grip, his other arm reaching over to latch onto Jeonghan's shoulder. 

"Say it again, Hannie," Seungcheol says. 

"Sneak!" Jeonghan tries to hide his face into his other shoulder, but fails miserably. "Sneak!"

"I'm your sneak now," Seungcheol says, unrepentant and teasing. "Hannieeeeee."

"You're so cheesy," Jeonghan says again. 

He's sure that he's going to spontaneously combust, or his heart is going to, with the rate it's pounding at. It doesn't help when Seungcheol presses a warm laugh against his temple, or when he holds Jeonghan's hand all the way to school, a smooth, calming thumb running circles around Jeonghan's cold knuckles. 

Jeonghan likes the way Seungcheol looks at him - teetering and awed and breathlessly. It's a good way, Jeonghan thinks, all of it - in a good way.

They part a few hundred metres away from the school gates. Jeonghan disentangles his fingers from Seungcheol's, and mumbles an excuse about not wanting to be so open about it. Seungcheol, for all his puppy eyes, agrees reluctantly. So instead they walk, a tentative space between them and half an urge to exchange affectionate looks. Jeonghan feels the full force of pouty endearment against the back of his neck, but makes it to class quickly by counting his pace. 

It helps, and doesn't help that Kwon Soonyoung drapes his straining arms around Seungcheol's neck once they enter the classroom block. Jeonghan misses a step.

In class, Minghao gives him a Look. "What happened between you and Seungcheol?"

Jeonghan jumps. "What?"

Flicking a pencil in Jeonghan's direction, Minghao drawls, "Your shirt is neat, your hair is tidied, you look like a healthy, living person, and Seungcheol won't stop looking over all the time in Math."

Instinctively, Jeonghan sneaks a peek over at Seungcheol's corner of the classroom. Seungcheol's looking back without a semblance of guilt, and smiles brightly when he catches Jeonghan's gaze. His seatmate, Kim Mingyu, glances over too and stifles a laugh. Jeonghan, flustered, swings back to face Minghao and his smug, snakey face.

"Okay, so,"Jeonghan blubbers. "That's nothing. Nothing happened."

Minghao raises an eyebrow. "I'm not blind, Yoon Jeonghan."

"You can prove nothing," Jeonghan says, remembering how to breathe normally.

"You're speaking more than three words at a time," Minghao says slowly, rolling his eyes. "Also Jun saw you two at the train station this morning."

Jeonghan purses his lips. "Jun? The boy from your basketball-"

"Don't change the topic."

Jeonghan worries his bottom lip, and decides to pen down today's date on a blank page. "Can we talk about this later?"

Minghao sighs, and leans away back behind the invisible parameters they've outlined for themselves. "You know that's as good as an acknowledgement, right?"

"I know," Jeonghan says softly, trying not to turn his head in Seungcheol's direction (an unusually hard feat). "How many people...?"

"It was pretty obvious," Minghao answers without really answering. "It was just. Fast. I think."

That's one thing he can agree with. "Yeah, sort of just. Happened."

Minghao is silent for a few moments, save the scratching of his pencil. Jeonghan exhales noisily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

"Hey, Jeonghan?"

"Yeah?"

"...No, it's nothing."

When lunch comes, Jeonghan recites a gibberish couplet until he hears that most of the class has left. He's not really sure how this works - it's his first time dating (dating! what a feat!) and although he would like to expect that Seungcheol would invite him, as a friend, or like anything to happen, it doesn't. 

Jeonghan very carefully peers around, only to catch the last of Seungcheol's careless, carefree laughter slip out the classroom. 

His breath hitches, and he tries to time it along the slow spinning lull of the overhead fan, but right now acrid betrayal sinks in between his teeth. He glances down at his pencil, and the notes he took down this one time out of an overwhelming need to focus on something. They don't look like words. 

It's nothing, he knows, because he was the one to let go of Seungcheol's hand that morning, and he wasn't ready to go all out or like. It's not even a big thing - Seungcheol's probably giving him space and he's too much of a coward and. Maybe, just maybe, Seungcheol doesn't even like him that much.

Jeonghan claws down on his thigh, hard, and lets his thoughts be sharply replaced by the sting of his nails.

He knows he's making a big deal out of nothing. Because Seungcheol is walking next to him like that was nothing, and he is still so acutely aware of the way light shapes Seungcheol's neck - cupping his Adam's apple in an uncertain shimmer. Jeonghan's hand is heavy at his side, and the memory of Kwon Soonyoung snaking an arm around Seungcheol's shoulders without hesitation floats in his mind. 

"What's up," Seungcheol says in the middle of his speech about the football team or something else. 

Jeonghan lets him take his hand, intertwining their pinkies like a promise. "Mm. Nothing."

"Hannie?"

Jeonghan melts. "You can't keep saying that."

Seungcheol furrows his brows. "Do you not like it?"

"No!" Jeonghan quickly blurts, and flushes red at Seungcheol's teasing smile. "No, I mean. I like it. It's cute."

Seungcheol closes the space between them, the heat of his thick arms evident from beneath thin cotton layers. Jeonghan wipes his hands against his pants in a small action, and glances up into Seungcheol's welcoming face. His hand tightens over Seungcheol's.

"You're cute," Jeonghan says softly, memorising Seungcheol's long lashes.

Seungcheol laughs, shocked, and presses a kiss to Jeonghan's temple again. They slow to a halt, stuck in the middle of a stretch of road. It's long and quiet and there are maybe birds off in the corner but Jeonghan is lost in the thudding of his heart. It rings in his ears like an aftermath of some earthquake, and pulses mechanically in his throat. Maybe these are the fabled butterflies in his stomach.

"Cheol-ah," Jeonghan says, embarrassed at the silence.

"I like you a lot," comes out muffled against his hair, but when Seungcheol pulls back to look at him in the eyes, Jeonghan falters at the intensity of his gaze. "Yoon Jeonghan, why are you so cute?"

Jeonghan lets out a strange giggle. He lets his eyes dart to either side, checking if anyone has spotted them. Seungcheol doesn't miss it.

"Hannie," Seungcheol says, and his hand is slowly settling on Jeonghan's cheek. "Can I?"

Jeonghan nods, and shuts his eyes.

It's soft. Soft, and warm, and gentle, and there's suddenly a swipe of a tongue and Seungcheol pulls back and Jeonghan has just died a little inside because what was that? Jeonghan blinks his eyes open, and presses the tips of his fingers to his lips, feeling the slightly-wet/warm surface apprehensively. Seungcheol is hiding his face in Jeonghan's shoulder, clearly abashed, even if that was nothing explicit or sinful.

"Can we do that again?" Jeonghan whispers, feeling spikes of summer in his chest. 

Seungcheol laughs again, but obliges him.