Chapter Text
♫ — Telephones, Vacations.
0529.jihoon.ig added to their story.
Hyunwook sprung up from the couch, covering his mouth. His phone slipped from his grasp and tumbled onto the floor with a clatter that resounded through his quiet apartment. He hastily retrieved it, not bothering to check if there was any damage; rather he cared more about verifying that he had really seen that notification. His eyes ran over the words repeatedly, but no amount of rereading was revealing anything other than the basic fact that Jihoon had posted.
Opening his phone, Hyunwook tapped on the message icon in the bottom corner. There had been no notifications on his lockscreen, but he was harbouring some foolish hope that maybe it had just not pinged through. He pressed the pinned contact, a photo of Jihoon he had taken during the filming of Weak Hero Class. One of the photos— the many —he had kept for himself.
The screen revealed what he had been expecting: the several messages he had sent in a row, and no response since last night. It had been like that for a month and a half now. As he had done a billion times since it had happened, he scrolled up to the last proper conversation they had had. Or more, the last fight.
I don’t get why you’re so angry
You didn’t want me to come to your event, so I didn’t.
Now you’re pissed off that I went out with Kyung hyung and Yeon noona?
I can’t read your mind, hyung
13th July, 2.59am
Jihoonie Hyung
Are you seriously asking me that?
Actually, no. I can’t deal with this right now.
Let’s just take some space. I think that’d be best for a while.
13th July, 3.02am
I don’t want to??????
Can you not just talk to me
13th July, 3.03am
Are you seriously going to ghost me?
Hyung.
13th July, 3.49am
From there it was an embarrassing wall of his messages, some in bulk—he needed to stop drinking—and sometimes a photo by itself, or just a single text. After a week, clipped replies started to appear in between the multitude of Hyunwook’s texts.
He was about to give in to temptation and sift through their earlier messages just to feel something, but he swiped off the app instead. With a groan, he threw himself flat on the couch, scrubbing his face with his hands before plunging them into his hair.
He was not cut out for this. He just wanted to see Jihoon again. Their schedules were already packed when they were filming, so their meetings had always been fleeting or late at night anyway, and that was when Jihoon wanted to make time for him.
Now, Jihoon never had time for him. Hyunwook was privy to his life about as much as his fans were—through scarce Instagram stories of coffee trucks that made him unreasonably angry every time he opened them.
He took his phone from his chest and opened instagram, switching to a faceless account and then clicking on the story of the only person he followed on there. Another coffee truck, he presumed.
“What the fuck?”
It was not a coffee truck. Far from it. Most of the portrait photo was taken up by some sort of rock formation. The sand at the bottom confirmed Hyunwook’s suspicion that it was on the beach, where Jihoon had been filming today (he had disclosed that much when he responded the night before). None of that was particularly shocking though.
It was the man standing in the middle of the rock passage, head down so his face was not visible.
Hyunwook’s stomach twisted.
It could be Jihoon. If Jihoon had lost weight, built his muscles, and grown around five inches since they last saw each other. If Jihoon had started to dress like Hyunwook did. He lifted his thumb, and the second it was off the screen he saw the emoji it had been covering, just above the man’s head.
He had been frowning already, but that put a fully-formed scowl on his face. Jihoon had the same understanding of social media as a middle-aged man. He could use it well enough, but the nuance of it was lost to him. That was why whenever their shippers went into a frenzy over Hyunwook’s stories of them, Jihoon had never thought anything of it. Hyunwook did not care to enlighten him on what a ‘soft launch’ was or that he had been doing exactly that for years now.
Just for Jihoon to post someone else in that manner.
He screenshotted the story and then exited the app, opening his contacts and scrolling to J.
Hey, Junyoung-ssi, this you?
[Attached image]
3.59pm
Junyoung Sunbae
?
No lmao I haven’t seen Jihoonie in a while
Why?
4.00pm
Just thought it looked like you haha
4.00pm
Hyunwook was not laughing. He swiped off the chat before whatever Junyoung was typing pinged through and clicked on Jihoon’s contact again.
Hope filming goes well today
Remember not to skip meals when you’re filming. You usually do and I’m not there to lecture you about it lol.
8.26am
I know you already said yesterday that you won’t be free for a while
But I’d really like to go out for a meal or something
It was my 6th anniversary since my debut so
I want to celebrate with you if you could make the time for me, hyung
11.13am
His fingers flew across the keyboard, ready to add to the amounting texts. Jihoon had effectively conditioned him to no longer feel shame at sending a constant flood of messages and getting a singular one in response. It was more chagrin that was driving him now, though.
You can’t find the time to respond to me but you can to post?
4.03pm
He stayed on the chat for a few minutes, tapping each time that the screen dimmed. Five minutes later, he turned his phone off and then back on. A few texts from other people, but nothing from the one person who really mattered.
It took fifteen minutes for him to get so antsy he jumped up from the couch, threw on his running clothes, and stormed out of his apartment.
Every beat of his trainer against the pavement thudded in his chest and head as well. Not for a single second did his mind stray from the photo, the lack of effort he had been reckoning with for over a month, and Jihoon, who he was being actively deprived of. Whatever feeling he had been carrying when he left for his run, it was thrumming beneath his skin a hundredfold by the time he arrived back home. His body felt like an electrical circuit that was handling much too high a current.
A peek at his empty lockscreen revealed nothing so he slipped into the running shower. He stayed there with his head down, arms braced on the tiles, staring at the water seeping down the drain as he tried to be rational.
He could do that. It may have been more of Jihoon’s thing, but it did not mean Hyunwook lacked the ability to be logical about things.
Even if that was someone else, it meant nothing. It would not change what was between them.
Whatever that was.
Whatever it was that gave Jihoon the right to get upset about him going out that night and was filling Hyunwook with rage over a stupid fucking story.
He lathered suds of soap over his body, scrubbing until the skin was raw. Even that could not stop him from thinking about Jihoon.
He tongued the inside of his cheek and lifted his head to be hit by the water. Carding fingers through his hair, he stayed under the spray until the tension in his muscles was somewhat relieved. The shower turned off, and he yanked his towel from where it was draped over the glass wall, patting himself dry with it.
He was ruffling through his hair with a rough care when he heard a faint ding. His eyes flew wide and he was moving before he could process that he was still standing in the wet shower—almost slipping and catapulting towards the floor head first in his rush to get to his phone. He had left it on the side of the sink, and it dropped from his hands thrice before he was finally able to get a grasp on it. His towel hung loosely from around his neck, and he tapped the black screen to awaken it.
Jihoonie Hyung
I’ll check if I can. Filming will be less intensive soon.
Posting takes five seconds, Hyunwookie.
6.31pm
Hyunwook’s heart soared at the first message, and then plummeted at the second. He attempted to type out a response, but the droplets from his hair kept falling onto his keyboard, making it impossible. He grabbed the towel from his neck and smacked it against his head, still studying the screen as the messages echoed in his mind, spoken in Jihoon’s low voice.
When his hair was dry enough, he took the towel and wrapped it around his waist, running hands through his hair until it was completely clear of his forehead. The drops of water were still on his screen and he took a hand towel nearby to it, absorbing the water.
When he flipped it face up again, his heart stuttered. There were three dots on the screen. Jihoon was typing again.
The steam in the bathroom air was already coating his phone with moisture so he quickly escaped into his bedroom, holding the knot at his hip. The three dots disappeared and then reappeared again.
Jihoonie Hyung
Please don’t ignore me
6.37pm
Just got out of the shower
Couldn’t type
6.37pm
His finger hovered over the keyboard for a while. The three dots made another reappearance. He sighed and lifted his finger up to the call button. The room filled with the dialing tone.
He knew Jihoon was not going to answer. Whenever he was filming he got less verbose, from both filling his characters shoes and because he was exhausted from shooting. Sometimes Hyunwook was allowed into the quiet space Jihoon craved by the end of the day, but it had not been extended to him for over a month now. They had both been too busy, and he was not entirely sure Jihoon wanted him there anymore.
It was worth a try, though.
He placed the phone on the bed and began sifting through his closet to find a hoodie and pair of sweats.
The sound abruptly cut halfway through the fourth ring.
Hand holding back a shirt, Hyunwook froze. He slowly turned to his bed, the small device displaying the call screen.
Jihoon had picked up.
He dived for the phone, pressing it to his ear, breath catching. “Ji–”
“Hyunwookie, are you there?” It was a deep, smooth voice that carried over the line; familiar, though with an extra grumble to it.
Hyunwook sucked in air and it felt like his lungs were expanding too much and pressing into his ribs. It hurt .
“Hyung.”
“Ah, you are,” Jihoon paused. Why did you call?”
“Uhm…”
I just wanted to hear your voice.
“I’m getting changed and didn’t want to leave you on read again.” Instead of doing as he said, he sat down on the edge of his bed, digging his elbows into his thighs as he hunched over.
There was an awkward silence only interrupted by the intermittent shuffling on the other side. Then, Jihoon said, “Are we just going to sit in silence?” A low chuckle followed, and Hyunwook could not help the smile that bloomed on his face at the sound.
“No, I— Uh… How was filming today?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose when he heard how nervous he sounded.
A groan emitted from Jihoon succeeded by a relieved sigh. “Tiring. I ate, before you ask.”
“Good,” Hyunwook mumbled. “Did you—”
At the same time Jihoon said, “How about—”
“Sorry, you go.”
“No, you, Hyunwoong.”
Cheeks hurting as his mouth pulled up into a wide grin, Hyunwook flopped back onto his mattress, staring up at the blank ceiling. “No, you, Jihoonie hyung.”
Jihoon huffed like he was being childish. Which he was. Hyunwook shed his maturity and softness when he was around Jihoon. It was a different kind of personality that he reserved only for Jihoon, and Jihoon for him.
“I was going to ask how your day was.”
Hyunwook had been out of the steam-filled bathroom long enough that the cold chill of his room was starting to give him goosebumps, but he was too engrossed in the call to notice, even as he shivered.
“It was fine. I went out for a run and that’s about it. I was kind of drained after last night.”
“Mm, I saw your live.”
That rendered him speechless. He blinked a few times, mind racing as he tried to remember what he had talked about yesterday. All that he could recall was saying that he had finished filming Notes From the Last Row and…
“Potatoes, huh?” Jihoon said, finishing his thought for him. “It’s fitting.”
“For me or for them?”
Jihoon hummed on the other side. “Can I say both?”
Hyunwook smiled, pressing the back of his hand against his curling lips. “Sure. You can.”
When there was a silence this time, it felt nice. Warm, even. Maybe that was what gave Hyunwook the courage to speak up again. “Jihoonie hyung, that photo you posted, who was that?”
Five seconds passed before he got a response. “A castmate.”
Hyunwook’s mood soured immediately. “Which one?”
“Does that matter?”
“Yes.”
“Lee Hongnae.”
Was there something about men with the last name Lee that made them want to hang around Jihoon and make him jealous?
Hyunwook felt like he had just been force-fed drywall and plaster, something thick coating his tongue and his throat. He swallowed, but it did little to relieve the discomfort.
“Are you close?”
“As close as coworkers can be, I guess? We have a lot of scenes together.”
“We were coworkers,” Hyunwook countered before he could stop himself.
All the background noise of Jihoon’s constant shifting ceased. “That’s not the same.”
“Is it not?” He sounded abrasive, he knew he did, but…
How could Jihoon put him on the backburner for a month and a half and expect him to be secure in the place he had in his life? Especially when they had not even put a label to this—them.
“Are you jealous?”
Mind whirring, Hyunwook tried to determine how to respond to that. Yes, I’m jealous. You’ve never done that for me. Did you even miss me? Does this—us—mean anything to you?
Before Hyunwook could reply, or even formulate a half-baked response, his phone pinged. It was loud against his ear, and he cringed away from the device, eyes skimming the notification that took up the top of his screen.
Ryeoun Hyung
Does our Hyunwookie have competition?
https://x.com/sieuniezod/status/1960588742663590136
6.44pm
He clicked on it, brows already furrowing. The preview of the tweet was all he needed to see. A comparison of two photos—Jihoon’s Mays necklace, and a cropped photo of the instagram story, the same one dangling from Hongnae’s neck.
Isn’t this just Jihoon? The caption was.
Hyunwook would have been inclined to believe it if Jihoon had not just verified otherwise.
A wave of nausea suffocated Hyunwook. He actually thought he might be sick for a moment. The longer he stared at the photos, the more that sickly feeling was replaced with something else; the kind of anger that dug itself into your eyes and made you blind.
He put the phone back to his ear. “Did you give him your fucking necklace, hyung?”
Jihoon coughed, like something had gotten caught in his throat. “What?”
“Your necklace. Is he wearing it? Did you give it to him?”
“Hyunwoong, it’s— it’s not like that.”
“Answer the question, Jihoon.”
A stretched pause. “Yes, I did—” Hyunwook squeezed his eyes shut at the confirmation. He was suddenly aware of how cold his room was and shuddered, curling in on himself. Jihoon was still speaking. “But it’s not what you thi—”
“Hyung…” Hyunwook’s voice sounded off. Utterly defeated, almost agonisingly so. “I’ve got to go.”
“Hyunwoong, list—”
The call ended, cutting him off.
Hyunwook covered his face with his hands, trying to curb everything welling up inside him into nothing more than a miserable groan. His phone rang again. Not a single muscle in his body moved, and when the dial tone ceased, a plethora of notifications followed.
After a few minutes, the dinging stopped entirely. Hyunwook dragged his hands down from his face, turning to his phone.
If he sends one more text, I’ll reply.
The screen stayed black. He gave it another minute before he stood up and finally pulled on some clothes—a navy hoodie and some black sweatpants. He threw his towel towards the laundry, walking through his apartment until he was standing in front of an open fridge. In the corner was a four-pack of soju. He grabbed it and was out of his apartment a second later, long strides bringing him to the door next to his.
When Ryeoun appeared at the entrance, his easy smile faltered. Hyunwook lifted the alcohol in lieu of a greeting. “You saw my text, I’m guessing,” his next-door neighbour said as he stepped to the side to let him in.
“I was on call with him. He confirmed.” Familiar with the layout of the apartment, he made his way to the living room and dispensed the alcohol on the table, sprawling on the floor beside it.
Ryeoun swore, door clicking closed. There were sounds of him rummaging through drawers and then he lowered himself down across from Hyunwook. A fizzling noise preceded the cold sting against Hyunwook’s cheek. He wrapped a hand around the bottle being offered to him, but did not sit up and just held it there against his abdomen, bleeding through the fabric of his hoodie.
“Did he tell you why?” Ryeoun asked, popping open his own bottle.
“He said that it’s not what I think. You tell me what that means.”
Ryeoun hummed. “Maybe it’s not. Knowing Jihoonie—”
“Give me one good excuse for why he would have to give that necklace to his castmate,” interrupted Hyunwook.
The silence was more than telling.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled when it stretched for too long, finally lifting off the floor. “I’ll… It's fine.”
With a sigh, Ryeoun offered his bottle across the table and Hyunwook tapped it, producing a small clink. “Leave it for tonight and just talk to him tomorrow.”
Instead of acknowledging the advice, Hyunwook downed his bottle, alcohol burning his throat.
They got through their drinks at an ungodly speed. They were both heavyweights, and it had only gotten worse since they started drinking together any time the slightest problem arose. Usually, it was Hyunwook outside Ryeoun’s door, but there had been a fair few times the opposite had happened too. Once even when Jihoon had been over for the night.
Jihoon… Jihoon…
Jihoon did not really like drinking. He said he had gotten more comfortable with it over the past couple of years but he was much more likely to abstain than to go out of his way to drink. Hyunwook was the opposite. He had a predilection towards a bottle in his hand, a flush in his cheeks.
So, Jihoon had started drinking more regularly too. When they were alone at Hyunwook’s for the most part; if Hyunwook grabbed a drink for himself, Jihoon would stand next to him silently until he was passed something too. Hyunwook had reassured that it was not necessary, that either he could not drink, or that, at the very least, he was not expecting Jihoon to. But Jihoon had said it was fine if it was Hyunwook. Whatever that meant.
Each time it happened still made Hyunwook feel like he had just been gifted the moon.
He had learnt two things about drunk Jihoon. One, he got a bright shade of red faster than the alcohol actually hit his system and, two, he was giggly.
They were watching a movie in Hyunwook’s apartment, a comedy that he liked, and he knew Jihoon preferred to put on something he had already seen otherwise he would get too engrossed. Despite that, every time a joke was made, he would laugh harder than he had on their first watch. Hyunwook’s eyes found themselves on Jihoon more than the TV screen. They were seated on the floor, backs pressed to the couch. Hyunwook’s arm was stretched across the pillows just behind Jihoon’s head, and a few times when Jihoon was giggling, his head would go back and rest on the arm. Hyunwook tensed each time.
“You should stop drinking,” he said now, wrapping a hand around Jihoon’s on the soju bottle.
He tried to overlook how the size of his hand swallowed up Jihoon’s.
He had been ignoring things like this for years now.
“I don’t want to.” Jihoon tried to wrench the bottle from Hyunwook’s hand but failed which made him frown. “Hyunwookie, let it go.” When nothing happened, he looked from the bottle to drill a glare into Hyunwook. “I’m your hyung, you should listen to me.”
Hyunwook tilted his head. “Sorry, Jihoonie hyung, but I’m looking after you.”
Another tug on the bottle and Jihoon’s body lurched a little.
Hyunwook bit back a laugh. “Let go,” he said.
They kept pulling back-and-forth.
“You let go, Hyunwoong.”
“No amount of cute nicknames is going to convince me,” Hyuwook asserted, despite the fact a heat rose to his cheeks.
“Ah, seriously!” Jihoon yanked on the bottle and nearly retrieved it from Hyunwook’s hand, but instead he tipped backwards.
Hyunwook had to quickly place down the bottle on the coffee table so he could catch Jihoon’s head before it banged against the floor. It ended with him half bent over the other man, big hand cradling the back of his head. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“Yah, be careful,” he lectured. “You could’ve—”
Jihoon’s sudden descent to the floor did not deter him from their contest. He reached out and grabbed the bottle from where Hyunwook had placed it down, chuckling as he showed it off. “What now? I got it without the help of the cute nicknames.”
Hyunwook tongued the inside of his cheek. “Hyung.”
Jihoon kept giggling at the prospect of winning. For a second, all Hyunwook could do was sit and let his skin soak in the sound. He wanted to capture it in a music box and wind it up every night.
“Hyung, give me the bottle,” he ordered, voice incredibly soft.
Jihoon wagged a finger at him. A second later, Hyunwook was back to trying to tear the bottle from his grasp, and Jihoon was using his spare hand to pry Hyunwook’s fingers off. Both of them were laughing, neither paying attention to how they were almost pressed together; Jihoon, in his effort to lift the bottle overhead, had brought Hyunwook between his legs, and younger was bracing a hand on the floor beside his head.
Finally, Hyunwook secured the alcohol with a victorious grin. “I win.”
Jihoon rolled his eyes, and Hyunwook slid the bottle far out of reach, glancing back down a second later. His throat tightened. Now, he noticed their proximity. How the older’s legs were resting on his thighs and dangled either side of him.
Jihoon was slightly out of breath, the erratic lift of his chest catching Hyunwook’s eyes before they lowered. At some point in their wrestling, Jihoon’s shirt had lifted up, revealing half of his toned stomach, and his waist, which his loose trousers were hanging low on. A v-shape disappeared beneath the waistband of Jihoon’s boxers, peeking out from under the black material. Hyunwook cleared his throat and—as casually as he could—smoothed down the shirt so everything was covered again. A giggle drew his gaze up and his hand paused, remaining on Jihoon’s waist. “Are you a kid, Hyunwoong? You’re blushing.”
“Hey—”
“So cute,” Jihoon laughed, awfully fond.
It made Hyunwook’s heart seize, blood pulsing in his ears. “Don’t call me cute, hyung,” he said, slightly more pouty than intended.
The laughter got louder at that, and despite it being at his expense, the sight of Jihoon in stitches, head tilted back and face a mosaic of amusement, Hyunwook started smiling. Watching Jihoon made him feel simultaneously full and hungry. He leaned down a little closer. “You can be so mean to me, Jihoonie hyung,” he complained.
Jihoon was still giggling but took the time to stroke the back of Hyunwook’s head. Maybe he had meant to say something when he did it—something like ‘I’m just teasing’—but he did not and just kept caressing him through his laughter.
His starry-eyes crinkled, giggles getting louder. Enthralled, Hyunwook just watched.
Then, he dipped his head and kissed him.
A gasp separated Jihoon’s lips and all his movement—his laughter, his hand over Hyunwook’s hair, the rise of his chest—stopped for just a moment.
Then, tentatively, he kissed back.
Hyunwook released a low noise at the reciprocation and angled his head, deepening the kiss. A little more urgency as their mouths formed against each other.
The hand in his hair dropped to the top of his back, and Jihoon pressed down, encouraging Hyunwook to close the gap between them. He complied, shoulders fitting into the space until he was all but smothering Jihoon. It rewarded him with an approving hum passed between their lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed.
He was kissing Park Jihoon. The idol. The actor. His best friend. His Jihoon.
“Jihoonie—” A breath between kisses and then their noses were brushing and they were kissing again, deeper than before.
“Hyunwookie,” Jihoon answered.
Then—
Hyunwook’s head jerked up from the table. It nearly dropped right back down, a weight like a dumbbell pressing down on him, but he somehow kept it level. Rapid blinking cleared the blur of sleep in his vision, and he saw the surface in front of him, covered in bottles. Someone slept on the table across from him. Something swelled in him. “Ji—” he began, but promptly pressed his lips together when it returned to him—where he was, who he was here with.
Ryeoun was snoring against the table. At some point, he had gone out and bought a lot more alcohol for them to indulge in. And indulge they had. Hyunwook used one hand to cradle his head and the other to leverage the couch and get himself on his feet. His vision rushed, ears pounding as if someone was hammering away in his ear canal, but he managed to stay standing against all odds.
“Hyung, wake up,” he said, voice piercing the suffocating quiet of the apartment. He was pretty sure they had been playing music and singing at one point but that must have stopped before they passed out because you could hear a pin drop. Even Ryeoun’s cats, Salmon and Udon, were sneaking around the kitchen counter as if they were being mindful of the two drunks.
Ryeoun grumbled, stirring from the table. He looked up at Hyunwook with bleary eyes. “Shit, I was meant to wake you up from your nap,” he mumbled.
This drew a chuckle from Hyunwook. “I don’t even remember asking you to do that, so you’re fine.”
Joining in the laughter, Ryeoun attempted to stand, wobbling on his feet and nearly crashing down into the exhibit of alcohol on his table. He made a groggy sound before he said, “You can stay in the guest room or go back to yours, up to you, but I need my bed right now.”
“Want me to clean up?”
He was waved off. “Nah, I’ll do it in the morning.”
“Okay. I’ll head back to mine. See you next time one of us goes through a mid-life crisis.” He patted Ryeoun’s shoulder as he walked past.
Ryeoun threw him an incredulous look and then snorted. “So tomorrow, same time?”
Hyunwook did not deign that with a response as he left.
It was a gruelling effort to dress in his pyjamas and brush his teeth, but he managed somehow, swaying side-to-side, tripping over himself every five seconds. When he tumbled into bed, something hard dug into his hip, and he frowned, grabbing for the foreign object.
He retrieved his phone from between the sheets and his face fell. It turned on automatically and he recoiled as he was hit with an obnoxious blast of light. He quickly turned down the brightness, blinking away the white that seared his vision.
There were a plethora of notifications and the most recent was Jihoon again. His heart quickened, thumping in his chest so loudly it was like a banging drum in his ears.
Jihoonie Hyung
Hyunwook, that was rude and mean of you
Please stop ignoring me
We should talk about this
It’s not what you think. It didn’t mean anything.
It was just a temporary thing I had to do. Look, I’m wearing it right now.
[Attached image]
6.51pm
Have you blocked me?
7.28pm
I’ll delete the story if that’s what you want.
9.44pm
Hyunwoong…
10.19pm
Please just reply.
I’m getting worried.
12.31am
Guilt washed over him. It had not been his intention to ignore Jihoon for the rest of the evening. He was planning on getting advice from Ryeoun, letting his anger dissipate, and then, with a bit of drunken courage, confront the problem with new eyes.
Although his eyes were heavy, he tried to type through the alcohol and fatigue.
Wasat Ryeoun’s
I’mfine
I didn’t wanr to make you woroy
Sorrryy
Yoi were righy, we shold havvr same space I htink
Gooddgnight
1.01am
Jihoonie Hyung
Are you drunk?
Did you drink with Ryeoun again?
Hyunwookie?
Are you sleeping already?
Please text me when you wake up
1.03am
------
Hyunwook honestly did not know what was worse: his hangover, or the fact he was braving the cluttered streets of Seoul with it.
He liked to think he was an organised person; he had a calendar on his wall that was updated with a militant regularity, and then the one on his phone too, chock-full of blocked off filming and any social activities he had coming up.
Like today.
Which had completely slipped his mind, despite being in both of his calendars. So much for foolproof systems.
He had been so swept up in everything yesterday that he had forgotten to peruse his calendar the night before as he routinely did. By the time he was reviewing it in the morning with a glass of water in hand to remedy his headache, he had only an hour left to get ready. Thankfully, his friends were nice enough to spare him some extra time. He had been a whirlwind through his apartment, leaving it in absolute disarray, but at least he reached the café only slightly late.
It was rare for all five of their schedules to align, so it had been a while since he had seen them all. Especially Inhyuk.
After arriving, he was congratulated for his anniversary. They ordered some drinks and then slipped into their usual round of conversations—recent movies, things they wanted to do that year, when they would have time to get away.
More than once, Hyunwook’s attention would stray to Inhyuk and be reminded of Jihoon with platinum blonde hair. He already felt like death itself with his abating hangover, and it was not being made any better by the visions of his best friend like the flashbacks of the dead wife at the start of a movie.
He had not had the chance to text Jihoon since waking up that morning. Sleep had taken him after his final message, and his phone had been slowly drained of battery by his side all night. The best he got was an hour to charge it after he realised he had somewhere to be. As a result, he was currently operating with 10% and a dream. It had been nettling him that he could not respond—he had gotten a glimpse of Jihoon’s texts when his phone flashed to life—and with it came a familiar dismay that it had been so easy for Jihoon to neglect their messages for a month and a half.
Then again, he had always been an appalling texter.
An hour or two at the cafe and then they were meandering down the street, heading towards the indoor sports centre. Well, that was their original destination. They suddenly diverted off the route down a small alleyway into a photobooth store. Instead of bothering with any accessories, they headed straight into the free booth, all laughing at a joke Inhyuk had made.
When the curtain was drawn, an arm hooked around Hyunwook’s neck and pulled him down. “Look up.”
He glanced up at the phone taking their photo with a big pout on his face.
“Hyunwook-ah, you look miserable.” Joonsang laughed.
“I’m still fighting a hangover,” he groaned, rubbing his temple.
He was not sure if his headache was from the leftover alcohol or Jihoon anymore.
Inhyuk flashed the photo to the rest of them with a chuckle. Everyone laughed at how woeful Hyunwook’s face was, and even the man himself found a smile tugging at his lips.
They busied themselves with the steps on screen to pay, whilst Inhyuk dwelled in the corner, typing on his phone.
Likely against his best interests, Hyunwook slipped his own phone out of the pocket of his puffer jacket, glancing at the percentage in the top right corner. 7%. It was dying even without him using it.
His eyes skimmed over the notifications.
Kyungie Hyung
Yeon noona can’t come anymore, so do you want to just meet at my apartment?
11.30am
Yeon Noona
I’ve got a shoot tomorrow :(
Sorry Hyunwook-ah!
10.55am
Jihoonie Hyung
Are you awake yet?
9.36am
Hyunwook answered the one from Kyung with a simple ‘sounds good to me’, and then switched his phone off. Hopefully he could conserve the final drops of battery until he got home. He would rather have it in case of an unprecedented emergency.
Surprisingly, it did manage to stay alive until he was stepping through his door, a few hours later. It swiftly died the moment that he turned it on, though. He trekked through his apartment and plugged it in, dispensing it on his bed. He stared at it for a few seconds, and then rubbed the back of his neck.
He should probably call Jihoon when his phone was functioning again. Or text him.
It was hard to stay mad for long when he missed him so much. He missed the nights that Jihoon would end up falling asleep during a movie, tilting into his space, but so subtly like he did not want to leave an impression on Hyunwook’s clothes. Every time, Hyunwook would drop an arm to the other side of him and drag him closer, until Jihoon was curled into his side and he would wait out the rest of the movie whilst seeking small, fleeting touches. Or, the times when they would drink together after that had happened. Without any acknowledgement, they both knew how it would end. Maybe that was another reason Hyunwook’s tolerance had increased, because those nights had too. Significantly.
Jihoon in his lap, caged between his arms, laying on top of him as he trailed a hand up and down his back. Him pulling that face where his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted, the smile he reserved for Hyunwook’s jokes, and how flippant he was when annoyed. All of it. He missed it all.
Closing his eyes, Hyunwook forced the image of the necklace back into his mind—the one that had dangled above his head that one time Jihoon had been on top of him, kissing him. He supplanted his own face with Lee Hongnae.
His stomach thrashed violently at the thought, and that was all it took for his indignation to return.
His phone buzzed as it came back to life. He picked it up and opened his messages to Jihoon without checking what the most recent notification said.
That was his mistake.
Jihoonie Hyung
Are you awake yet?
9.36am
Hyunwook.
Is this your way of getting back at me?
[Attached image]
I just want to talk. Let me explain.
1.01pm
Hyunwoong, please.
3.15pm
You missed a call from Jihoonie Hyung.
4.01pm
I see how it is.
4.02pm
Teeth indented his bottom lip until he was sure they would pierce through and draw blood. It appeared Inhyuk had posted the photo of them out, the one where Hyunwook was pouting as he was held down, his friend’s face pressed against his. He ran a hand through his hair, collecting it at the back and then releasing it with a prolonged sigh.
Hyung, my phone was dead
I wasn’t ignoring you
4.44pm
There was no immediate response, but Hyunwook had not exactly been anticipating there would be. It was not like Jihoon feeling guilty would cause a tectonic shift in his behaviour. Though, the long-run of texts was definitely a new thing. He switched his ringer on and then started getting changed out of his clothes and into some loungewear. He was just hiking up his sweatpants when his phone rang. Dropping the shirt in hand, he sped across the room, eyes zeroing in on the caller ID.
He was pressing the green button before he could even reconsider.
“You answered,” Jihoon said, sounding sort of winded.
There was a charged silence, like neither could believe they were here, on opposite ends of the phone again. Hyunwook rolled his shoulders out, muscles already taut. “I– I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he mumbled.
Another pause. There were a lot of these between them lately, the kind of silence that felt like being smothered with a pillow over the face; it was everything they kept tucked beneath their tongues, hidden under the pads of their fingers as they touched each other.
“I was really worried,” Jihoon said. It was not condemnatory, just a matter-of-fact statement.
Hyunwook scruffled his hair. “Sorry.”
“... Hyunwookie, I have a break from filming tomorrow. Can I see you?”
His heart caught in his throat. Yes. Yes. Yes, you can. When? Where? Will you come over?
“Is that all it takes?” is what came out instead.
“What?”
“Me getting angry. Is that all it takes for you to finally stop putting me on the backburner for almost two months?”
“Hyunwoong—”
“Don’t.”
Jihoon made a noise on the other side, somewhere between distressed and irritated. “Fine. Choi Hyunwook, can you please be civil for five seconds?”
That just vexed Hyunwook more, and he huffed into the speaker. “I’m being civil by answering your call. You didn’t give me that courtesy when you were ignoring me.”
“I wasn’t— you know what, I don’t want to argue with you on this. Can you just answer my question?”
“Am I free tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“No, I’m not.”
They had been arguing back and forth without missing a single beat, so when Jihoon went silent, there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing. The anger that had been clawing at Hyunwook retreated and he exhaled, attempting to regulate himself. He had never acted like this before. Especially not towards Jihoon.
“No?” Jihoon repeated.
Hyunwook almost recanted. Almost offered everything on a silver platter.
“I have plans already,” he said, voice quiet.
“You can’t— uhm… okay, I’ll let you know when I have another break.” It was said so defeatedly that Hyunwook wanted to cry.
“Jihoonie, don’t overwork yourself.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Eat well.”
There was something that crackled over the line that sounded a bit like a sniffle. Hyunwook rubbed the butt of his palm across his forehead. “Hyung…”
“I’ll make sure to eat. You too, Hyunwookie.” Another short sniffle. “I’m going to go now.”
The call ended before Hyunwook could respond. He stared at the blank screen, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
He pressed down on the power button and turned it off, abandoning it on his bedside table.
Even the sound of the running shower could not dispel the faint sounds Jihoon had made from his mind. He had been crying, or was damn close to it. Hyunwook had made him cry.
When he slept that night, it was the last thing he heard; clinging to his consciousness like how they clung to each other.