Work Text:
People believe Jeonghan has everything great in life, all of which they thought were handed easily to him by pure luck or favors from a world that caters to beautiful people like him. It should trouble him, and to an extent, it does, but Jeonghan feels it’s easier that it doesn’t even occur to anyone that he tries, desperately so, because of his ego — of a need to be in control of his surroundings and a desire to be on top of everyone and everything else.
It’s easier now to act like he still has everything figured out — his career, family, friends, and Wonwoo.
God, Wonwoo.
Jeonghan watches as Wonwoo hums to the song playing on the car stereo. It is an old ballad that he often heard on the radio back in high school because his mother loved to listen while preparing dinner. They lived in a small house: a one-bedroom apartment in a ten-story building in the suburbs, just a block from the fresh market. The walls were so thin that Jeonghan remembers hearing his mother sing slightly off-tune with the smell of fish and the stench of rotting produce making its way through his bedroom window.
Jeonghan looks at the road, stretching endlessly ahead of them despite the moving car.
He loves this about Wonwoo — loves how he could hum right away every tune his mother knows, only really knowing ones that are beyond his years. He loves how few words he feels he should let out, the silence that naturally settles on them whenever they’re together comfortable.
Jeonghan sighs loudly, taking Wonwoo’s attention.
“Anything wrong?”
“Nah, it’s just Shuji. Wishes us a good trip.”
Wonwoo merely nods in acknowledgment. Then there’s the heavy silence again, shrinking up the space in the car. It should be easy to break it up, but Jeonghan doesn’t know how. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else, and when he catches Jeonghan’s eyes, he smiles.
It triggers a crawl in Jeonghan’s skin. He doesn’t return the smile, instead, he looks out the window.
“I’m going to sleep.”
Wonwoo hums, and Jeonghan tightens the cacoon he’s made for himself with his frame hiding behind the thick fabric of his jacket. He drifts off to sleep with Wonwoo’s voice fading into his mother’s and the smell of his teenage room right under his nose.
———
“I just want him to look at me. I don’t remember the last time he did,” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. He takes the water Joshua hands him.
“It’s pathetic to say it like this when Wonwoo is doing so well.” It’s because of this that he can’t tell Wonwoo how he feels. How could he demand time, acting like a selfish boyfriend, when he knows how well Wonwoo has been doing — his dreams one step away from his grasp?
“It’s not like you’re asking him to leave everything for you.”
Jeonghan doesn’t say it, but sometimes, when he, yet again, receives a text message from Wonwoo canceling his plans with him or waking up hours after their scheduled time because Wonwoo has to work, he does. Sometimes, he secretly wishes, and it makes the alcohol ride up to his stomach.
He wakes up to a light shake on his left shoulder and Wonwoo’s soft voice calling his name. “We’re here.”
Jeonghan doesn’t take too long to adjust to the light since it’s already dim. He checks the clock to see it’s already nine minutes past seven. Wonwoo gets out of the car to turn on the lights in the garage while Jeonghan fixes himself up.
Wonwoo opens the door to Jeonghan’s side. “Were you that tired? Mom has dinner prepared, and I know it’ll take a while before you can rest. I’m sorry,” he says while taking Jeonghan’s bag.
Jeonghan chuckles, “Your mother is a delight, don’t worry about me.” Wonwoo gives him a soft smile and kisses him on the forehead as soon as he steps fully out of the car. This immediately puts a smile on Jeonghan’s lips, moving closer to wrap his hands around Wonwoo’s waist.
“I can maybe distract her, but don’t count on it.”
“I won’t.”
Wonwoo’s parents welcomed them merrily with a feast that could feed ten people. Both are overjoyed with the visit of their eldest son, constantly asking him questions about his life. Jeonghan often has to remind Wonwoo to call his parents, sometimes he even has to take it upon himself to call them when he knows Wonwoo will forget.
Jeonghan watches them as their eyes wrinkle deeper with laughter, dark eyes shining by the fire, listening intently to Wonwoo’s stories about his work. They’ve grown older. Jeonghan can tell in how they repeat their stories and with how they lean in, eyes squinting as if it helps, so they could hear better. When Wonwoo’s father starts to fall asleep in his seat on the sofa where they’ve moved to after finishing dinner to have a little chat, they decide to call it a night.
Wonwoo tucks his parents to bed while Jeonghan tidies up the dishes.
“Hi,” Wonwoo whispers, reclaiming his seat beside Jeonghan.
“Hello,” Jeonghan whispers back.
“I missed you,” Wonwoo says, grabbing Jeonghan closer for a hug, and just like that, Jeonghan feels his shoulders relax. It could be the fire, burning intensely before them, or the alcohol in his system after drinking a little too much wine, but he feels warmth envelop him — so comforting he doesn’t move an inch lest it leaves him.
“It’s only been a minute.” Wonwoo only snuggles closer, and Jeonghan chuckles, hands moving to caress the side of his face. They stay like that for a while before Wonwoo breaks the silence, “I think my father’s happier to see you more than me.”
“I think we’ve established that long ago. Maybe if you go fishing with us tomorrow he’d love you just a bit more.” Wonwoo moves to bite Jeonghan’s fingers which were held up pinching the air in illustration. Wonwoo misses, and Jeonghan retaliates by pinching Wonwoo’s cheeks. Wonwoo mimics him with the hand he has around Jeonghan. Soon they’re squirming in their seats, trying to get the other to release their hold.
Wonwoo releases first in defeat, “We’re going to wake them up.”
“Just accept you can’t win against me,” Jeonghan says smugly, reclining back to the sofa with a content bounce.
“Not when I’m your boyfriend.” Jeonghan giggles. It’s his default line whenever he loses against Jeonghan.
“Where has this Wonwoo been?” He sighs.
Jeonghan sees Wonwoo’s smile slowly fade, and he immediately feels the shift in his boyfriend’s mood, shoulders slightly tensing up. Jeonghan would not have noticed if they weren’t sitting closely with each other. Jeonghan tries to dissipate any tension in the air by chuckling.
“We should go to sleep. I’m washing up first!” He says standing up. He leans down to leave a kiss on the top of Wonwoo’s head, receiving a smile in return. Wonwoo follows shortly after, and they move to the bed in silence.
———
“And if he…” Jeonghan has to stop because he could never let the word slip out of his mouth. If it’s going to happen, it’s never going to be from him, but the word hangs at the tip of his tongue, weight too heavy, taste too bitter and numbing.
It lurks at the back of his mind like grime on the corner of the tiled bathroom floor.
“I wouldn’t know what to do,” he says before getting choked up by air. Joshua holds his hand from across the table and squeezes it. It only urges his eyes to water up and his throat to tighten, sobs forcing their way out of him.
Jeonghan purses his lips, squeezing Joshua’s hands back. Just then, his phone flashes, showing the notification for a message he received from Wonwoo.
———
Jeonghan stares at the ceiling, counting Wonwoo’s breath - the rise and fall of his chest and the small puffs of air he lets out. It’s all soft and light so Jeonghan doesn’t move even the slightest despite the inches between them.
It’s the dead of the night but Jeonghan can’t sleep.
His thoughts drift back to their conversations and the gaps between them saved to maybe, hopefully, never to be brought up again. But no matter how desperately either of them tries, at some point, they float to the surface, hanging heavily between them. And somewhere in those moments, Jeonghan imagines he tells Wonwoo how he hates this. He’d cry and the words would spill out of him, but it promptly fades into a blur, becoming a cycle of dead silence and cries of Jeonghan alone.
So Jeonghan refuses to close his eyes and instead shifts to lie on his side, facing Wonwoo. He is here. They are here.
———
“Wonwoo?” Jeonghan looks up from his phone to see Mr. Jeon smiling at him, nodding at the phone in Jeonghan’s hand to tell the younger what he means.
He nods in confirmation. “Yes. He said he wanted to come, but I told him to just go to sleep. He’s been too stressed out recently.”
Mr. Jeon only hums. They’re both so similar, father and son. Men of few words but often well-spoken, careful in choosing the right words before speaking. Wonwoo takes pride in this, growing up with great admiration for his father. Even when they first met, Wonwoo would tell Jeonghan stories from his father, Jeonghan felt like he knew the old man before he even met him.
Jeonghan mimics Mr. Jeon and stares at the water before them as they wait for the pull on their rods.
———
“Hey, let’s not jump to conclusions, yeah?” Joshua tells him, grip on their clasped hands tightening. “I’ve heard everything you say and I understand why you feel this way. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and decide what or how Wonwoo feels.”
“If there’s anything I know about you two, it’s that you’re both always honest. Maybe not always to other people,…” Jeonghan scoffs and Joshua smiles a bit. “But you’re both honest with yourselves, and if either of you thought that your relationship isn’t worth it, you’d leave.”
“Shuji, it’s…”
“Hannie, come on. Let’s be more optimistic. If he doesn’t want you anymore it’s his loss, remember?”
“I don’t know, Shua. I think I’d lose more.”
“Fuck, you do love him.”
———
Wonwoo gets a call from work before dinner, telling him there’s an urgent revision on a project and he has to report on Monday. He doesn’t tell Jeonghan until later in the night when they’re already in their room. Wonwoo waits by the door as Jeonghan sits on his side of the bed. He tells Jeonghan they have to get back to the city tomorrow and cancel the rest of their plans. Jeonghan didn’t miss the regret and sadness in his voice, but it doesn’t make him any less hurt or angry.
Jeonghan sighs, but he mumbles an ‘okay’ before tucking himself to bed.
Wonwoo follows and says another faint apology before they let silence take them again. Jeonghan faces the side of the bed as he lies under the blankets with Wonwoo’s eyes staring at his back. Jeonghan can tell Wonwoo wants to say something, and he gets an overwhelming feeling of words forming at the tip of his own tongue. He wants to say something too, but he grits his teeth instead, suppressing the urge to hurt Wonwoo too.
———
Jeonghan thanks the alcohol for letting himself sleep through some parts of the night. He woke up a couple of times before giving up altogether and deciding to go outside.
He walks out to the porch, careful not to make too much noise. He tightens the cardigan around him when he steps outside, the chilly air biting at his skin almost immediately.
It’s four in the morning, still too dim for people to be walking around so there’s nothing but the rustle of leaves and the cold accompanying him.
He takes the pack of cigarettes and lights one. Wonwoo hates this and Jeonghan started to quit shortly after they started seeing each other. Quitting didn’t take a day. Hell, he still hasn’t completely gotten rid of it, keeping a pack with him even though he only takes them out when he feels too restless. Maybe he’s doing it now to retaliate indirectly.
His mother had told him he always had unique ways of approaching things, always finding ways to make difficult tasks easier or fun, even as a child. When he used to date around in college, he found different ways to pick up and let down lovers, one way rarely the same as the other. It was a little game of his that his mother never approved of and his father only laughed at.
They almost don’t have secrets from each other, so even though they worry about Jeonghan messing around too much, they trust him enough to know his limits when, for the most part, he didn’t. It’s probably why his mother still felt the need to warn him.
“Everything in this world seeks balance. Everything you do will be repaid with just as much gravity, so be extra careful with people’s emotions. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Jeonghan scoffs at this. Somewhere between those lines lies the implication that he deserves the pain — to be hurt just as much as he has hurt others.
———
“Hannie, can you please sit down first,” he hears Wonwoo say. He remembers Wonwoo arriving at the diner to meet him. He sat down to chat with Joshua for a bit but decided soon that they should leave with Jeonghan already half-asleep beside him.
“I need you to drink this water first.” Jeonghan complies, not too much of a difficult drunk.
Wonwoo puts pajamas on Jeonghan, the silky ones he liked.
“Don’t lie on your stomach, babe.” Jeonghan only hums, rolling over so he’s on his back. He sings Wonwoo’s name as he waits for him to finish setting things aside. He sits up and grabs for Wonwoo, inviting him to join him in bed. Wonwoo takes his hand and sits beside him. Jeonghan wiggles closer to him, and the movement makes him slightly dizzy, but Wonwoo holds his head and gently lays it on the crook of his neck, petting it lightly with the arm around him.
“I’m sorry.”
“I hate it, but it’s not like you wanted to do it.”
“Of course not.”
“Exactly.”
“Still. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s fine as long as you come to me.” Jeonghan takes Wonwoo’s hand, clasping it between his. “Just like this.” He kisses it.
———
They spent the morning cleaning up and doing errands for the elders. Mrs. Jeon hurriedly packed them side dishes to bring back to the city while reprimanding Wonwoo for not telling him sooner. Jeonghan stays silent, letting the elders nag as much as they could, but it’s also because his mood steeply declined at some point during breakfast. Wonwoo must have picked up on this, answering for him when the parents address him without asking him about it.
Wonwoo refuses when Jeonghan offers to drive. They sit in silence with no music playing in the background, and Jeonghan doesn’t feel like he has the liberty to turn anything on despite his hands itching to do so. He then resorts to plugging his headphones on, never taking them off during the entire ride.
When they arrive, Wonwoo calls out for him softly before he can move to leave the car. “Can we talk?” he says in a small voice.
Jeonghan feels the pit of his stomach twist. He takes a while before replying, “Okay. Do you want to come up?” Wonwoo only hums, helping him with his luggage.
Jeonghan takes the seat on the other side of the sofa. His heart had lurched at Wonwoo’s words, head racing with so many thoughts. But as they ascended the building, engulfed in the silence of the elevator, Jeonghan’s head starts to clear. Suddenly, he can’t think of anything else, letting his feet take him to his unit and his fingers tap in the passcode by memory.
Neither of them has said a single word since they entered Jeonghan’s unit.
“Are you breaking up with me?” Jeonghan said in an even tone, trying to steel himself from Wonwoo's response.
“Did you want to?” Wonwoo stutters a bit, but Jeonghan could be imagining it.
“Why are you asking me?” Jeonghan stares ahead, refusing to meet Wonwoo’s eyes.
“I thought you wanted to.”
“I never said that.”
“Weren’t you thinking of it?”
“What the fuck?” Jeonghan chuckles, disbelievingly. “You’re the one who said we needed to talk.”
“Because you were never going to bring it up, Han.”
“I’m sorry, Jeon. I thought maybe I needed an appointment to do that.”
“Han…”
“Fuck you.” Jeonghan doesn’t know why he’s suddenly tearing up. “I’m so tired of hearing you say sorry. I’m not a fucking saint, but fuck I could be now with all the times I had to forgive and be patient with you.” Jeonghan pauses to swallow. “Yet you’re here trying to break up with me.”
He’s crying now and Wonwoo immediately noticed.
“Hey,” Wonwoo falls on his knees in front of Jeonghan who’s now looking at his lap. Wonwoo takes his hands to hold them, making Jeonghan close his eyes to prevent even more tears from falling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I wasn’t trying to break up with you. I can’t even if I tried to want it, Han.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“I can’t be this selfish to keep you waiting. You deserve so much—“
“Don’t give me that ‘I’m not good enough for you’ bullshit, Won.”
Wonwoo sighs.
“I hate that we’ve become like this, but I don’t know how to fix it.”
Jeonghan chokes a couple of times before he says, “So you’re giving up?”
When Jeonghan dares look up to see Wonwoo, his heart falls. Wonwoo’s crying. In the three years that they’ve been together, he’s never seen Wonwoo this beaten up — tiredness heavy on his lids and shoulders slouched even deeper than they normally do — not even when he’s had to spend two days straight in the office.
Jeonghan takes Wonwoo’s face into his hands, “I’m not breaking up with you.”
“Okay,” Wonwoo says softly.
“I don’t want to, fuck, I don’t think I can lose you. But I need you to meet me halfway because I’m getting tired,” Jeonghan says, somehow feeling lighter by the second. “I don’t love you any less, but I don’t think I can give you more if we’re going to be like this.”
“Okay.” Jeonghan rests his forehead on Wonwoo’s.
“Words, Won. I need words. Let’s start with that.”
“I don’t want to break up too,” Wonwoo says, staring straight into Jeonghan’s eyes.
Jeonghan chuckles, feeling like he’s breathing new air. “Okay,” he says, placing a kiss on Wonwoo’s forehead.
“Then we can figure it out from here.”