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After one spur-of-the-moment drunken and giggly escapade to the district office just after noon on a Tuesday, Yunho and Hongjoong go home to their shared apartment with a whole ass receipt for their certificate of marriage stuffed into Yunho's back pocket and another (third) case of hellaciously bitter soju to celebrate.
"That was insane!" Yunho laughs, "Dude, we just got married, like, for real married. For keeps!"
Hongjoong trips his way to their shitty couch, threadbare in the arms from too many nights spent with his overheating laptop propped up on the edge, and cracks open another bottle. "Hey—hey shouldn't we like..." he burps, only thinking to cover his mouth when Yunho drops his full weight in his lap, but by then the waft of stale liquor and his lunch sandwich is already blowing into his friend’s face. "Weren't we supposed to kiss or somethin'?"
"I think you have to be dating first," Yunho informs him in all seriousness while holding one eye closed so he can finagle the cap of his own bottle off. "And since we're not, we just had to sign a bunch of stuff and walk off? Can’t believe I paid ₩60,000 to get married and didn't even get a kiss out of it."
They both contemplate their own bottles before Hongjoong remembers. "Cake!"
Yunho jolts and says something like "bwuh?" that Hongjoong ignores in favor of kicking feebly into the air. "Wedding cake! Wasn't that what we were trying to get?"
"Oh yeah," Yunho supposes and drains his bottle dry. "You wanna go back to that bakery and shove the receipt in their faces? Maybe we can get a rainbow one out of it."
"What? Why rainbow?”
“Because we’re gay married,” Yunho says, “Duh.”
“Oh yeah.” Hongjoong finishes his bottle and reaches for another. It takes him a few tries before he grabs the actual object instead of its blurry siblings. His hands are numb to the point getting the cap off seems like too much effort, so he gives up almost immediately to sigh boneless into the couch cushions. “You’re my husband now. Wild.”
Yunho hums around the rim of his half empty bottle until he starts giggling uncontrollably. “Hyung, hyung, oh my god. Hongjoong-hyungnim!”
“What?”
“You—you know that meme that’s like ‘you’re my dad’?” Yunho slides down Hongjoong’s lap, off the couch proper, until he’s mostly cackling into their floor. “Oh my god!”
Hongjoong blinks. His limbs feel syrupy slow and weightless, like he’s about to fall asleep. The next blink is much longer. And the next. And the next—
He snorts back to reality with a slurred, “Whuzzat?”
"You’re my husband!” Yunho wails, “Boogie woogie woogie!”
“Oh no,” Hongjoong very seriously tells his empty soju friends. “My gay husband quotes vines.”
Yunho says something indignant that Hongjoong doesn’t catch—drowsy from the alcohol and dropping swiftly into dreams.
--------------
Crystalline sobriety is a swift kick in the balls the next morning when Hongjoong finally wakes up, feels his stomach lurch, and only barely makes it to the kitchen trash can before he’s losing all of yesterday’s lunch and the equivalent of a small liquor store into the lining. “Ugh,” he says feelingly and hears Yunho groaning somewhere in agreement.
Hongjoong drags the can closer to their kitchen table so he can at least sit down in a chair while he upchucks and spies Yunho buried under the coffee table. Yunho has managed to get the blanket they keep on the back of the couch bunched up awkwardly over one hip, stark naked. Yunho’s clothes from the previous day strewn around him like a halo, kicked off in the middle of the night when he overheated.
Hongjoong cringes.
The blanket in question is only around to cover themselves when one of them wants to jack off in the living room without being caught with their pork and beans out in the open. It’s a wonderful unsaid agreement that’s worked ever since they moved in together after college when jobs were scarce and money was tight. Money was still tight but that was mostly attributed to Hongjoong’s love of fancy electronics and Yunho’s obsession with everything Spiderman related, like the latest Playstation and the won equivalent of $500USD Spiderman figurine featuring hi-def ass contouring Hongjoong very benevolently decided not to question.
Regardless, that blanket still had jizz crusted on one side where he’d forgotten to clean it after his own special alone time while Yunho was out chasing tail. Yunho is going to be super fucking mad if the edge flopped over his butt is the crunchy side Hongjoong never washed.
“What did we even do yesterday?” Hongjoong pitifully groans out before he’s losing another lurching stomachful of whatever else had been left in his system. The last vestiges of his dignity, maybe.
“We decided to go day drinking because someone convinced our manager to let us off work for four days,” Yunho moans from his position on the floor. “And then...something about cake? There was definitely a discussion about cake.”
His stomach twists in on itself and Hongjoong moans weakly. “Please god stop talking about food.”
There’s a sound like Yunho throwing a pillow in his direction. “You started it.”
“Well, I’m finishing it,” Hongjoong says, staring deeply into the abyss of…blech looming at the bottom of their trash now. Every movement of his head makes the room spin and his eyeballs ache like he’s been dunked in a salt water pool with them open for six hours, so when his vision clears, and Hongjoong notices the brightly colored candy stuck to his sleeve, he is understandably confused. “Wait, scratch what I just said. When did we get ringpops?”
Yunho sits up. Hongjoong knows because he hits his head on the underside of the table first. “Ah?”
“Ringpops.” Hongjoong hurls the tacky ring in Yunho’s direction and hopes it connects with his roommate’s fool head. “Did you stick candy in my hair again? I swear, if I find a melted gummy bear on my head later I’ll—”
"Uh, hyung?"
The sound of Yunho's voice makes his head pound somehow worse . Hongjoong hasn’t felt this hungover since he and Yunho and their friend Mingi had gone out the night after graduation to get black out wasted, excited at the notion there were no more tests to study for and already stumbling under the crushing anxiety of paying back some of the student debt they’d all carried. That night ended two days later, after Mingi had gone off with some girl who let him suck tequila out of her navel and her girlfriend to a strip club, followed by Yunho getting kidnapped—dicknapped? Hongjoong vaguely remembers Yunho having a prominent boner at the time—by a shady looking twink who was probably going to steal his wallet (he did), and Hongjoong had woken up in Yunho’s room, on Yunho’s bed, half-naked clutching an empty bottle of Jack and missing one eyebrow.
“Hyung,” Yunho whines petulantly. “Pay attention to me!”
Fucking needy ass whiny bottoms. Hongjoong thunks his head gently on the kitchen table. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.
"Yes?" He says instead of anything that wants to creep out of his mouth, like calling Yunho mean names out of spite.
Yunho swallows loud, a deep gulp of something that might be more than just spit and Hongjoong grimaces at the visual.
"I think we got married."
There's a pause. He can hear Mrs. Kim next door beating out the entrance hall rug on her balcony. Hongjoong digs a finger in his ear thinking he must have misheard or suffered a momentary stroke. "Excuse me, what?"
Yunho plods into his field of vision with an ashen face, the jizz blanket barely tied around his hips, and a slip of paper unfolded in his hands. He passes it off for Hongjoong to read and drops down into a squat, clutching at his head with a groan at the same time.
Hongjoong reads the first few lines and whistles.
"Well, would you look at that? We are married."
Yunho wheezes into his knees.
Hongjoong glances between the papers in his hand and the eldritch horror occupying the container beside him and considers his options. On the one hand, he could get up, drink a gallon of bitter coffee and go deal with whoever runs the annulment department, or on the other hand he could find some sunglasses and pretend this isn’t happening until the hangover goes away.
He settles on retching again.
Yunho waits him out. Hongjoong can hear him gag a little in the background, but considering he himself is busy losing, like, nine tenths of his stomach into their trash at the moment, he could honestly not give a single solitary fuck if Yunho upchucks on his fucking toes right now. Wouldn’t be the first time anyway.
When he’s done, and wiping his face on the collar of his shirt, Yunho finally asks, “So what do we do now?”
Hongjoong scrubs a hand down his face. Unfortunately it’s the one that had the ringpop stuck to it so he gets a face full of tacky melted sugar dragging along his cheek. He grimaces. “First, I’m getting a shower. Then we’re going to figure out how to get this reversed.”
Yunho makes a groaning whining noise of defeat that almost mimics the sound their water makes in the pipes when anyone in the building grabs an early morning shower. Another testament to just how cheap, how old and rundown their building was despite the inflated rent prices set by property management just by virtue of existing only one block from the nearest bus stop. Hongjoong briefly entertains the dream of investing in a car so he and Yunho can find a different place, maybe one not as close to public transport so the rent is more reasonable, but that would require, like, effort and saving money.
He scraps the idea almost immediately.
Yunho slides forward until he’s hiding his face on their dirty floor again. The movement nudges the blanket off of Yunho’s hips to the point he’s laid bare, ass on full display with the tiny unicorn tattoo they’d gotten together on a dare junior year smiling up at him with its neon pink and blue mane. Hongjoong eyes the mark and tells himself he’s not looking at Yunho’s butt, though Hongjoong is man enough to admit Yunho does have a nice one even if Hongjoong is almost entirely ambivalent about the person it’s attached to.
When they’d first moved in together, Hongjoong had to have a long sit down with himself about keeping Yunho in the off-limits section of his brain, because his best friend is ridiculously attractive—unfortunate considering Hongjoong has functioning eyeballs—and a relentless flirt. It took all of his willpower not to say anything back when Yunho is two glasses of long island iced tea deep and pawing at him only to get distracted and disappear with random no-name men at clubs and their favorite bars. He’s mostly immune to it now.
Mostly.
Hongjoong sighs. He reaches down to slap at the unicorn, watches Yunho’s skin jiggle for a second longer than he should—ignoring Yunho’s over exaggerated moan because he’s a dickhead—and decides a shower is just what he needs to feel human again.
“Don’t start things if you’re not going to finish them,” Yunho calls after him.
“Don’t hang your ass out if you don’t want me smacking it,” Hongjoong singsongs back before he’s slamming the door to their bathroom and locking it so Yunho doesn’t get any bright ideas about returning the favor while Hongjoong has shampoo in his eyes or something.
His face is grey when he looks in the mirror, eyes rimmed in red and sick clinging to his chin.
Married, Hongjoong laughs bitterly to himself while he undresses, fucking married.
And he was doing so well, too.
--------------
After two showers and sobering cups of hot coffee from their aging machine, he and Yunho end up wandering to the nearest diner that’s become a late night favorite in search of greasy burgers now that it’s well into the afternoon and they are ravenous. Hongjoong honestly isn’t sure they bothered getting food yesterday at all. Maybe that was what the cake was for and they had just forgotten in all the excitement.
The middle-aged woman working the register doesn’t even bother waiting for their order before she’s ringing them up, a sign that maybe they come here too often Hongjoong supposes. Not that it’s going to stop them considering this place is cheap and the staff know them by name.
“Want me to tell the cook to leave the pickles on the side, Yunho-ssi?” The cashier asks mildly.
Yunho waves her off with one takeout cup in his hand. “Nah, thanks though. Hyung will take them off for me.”
Good fortune continues to not smile down upon them because as soon as Hongjoong finds a free table not covered in crumbs or dried streaks of grease, in walks Song Mingi with a pep in his step and an exuberant, “Hyung! Yunho!” The woman working the register is less amused by the enthusiasm and punches in Mingi’s order with a very obvious stink eye.
“Oh god,” Hongjoong moans into his hands, “Please don’t be loud today.”
“I’m loud everyday. You of all people should be used to it by now,” Mingi tells him and drags out an extra chair to wedge himself in close at the table's edge. “You guys aren’t at work today?”
Hongjoong shakes his head, which he immediately regrets because his hangover means the room tilts and his stomach lurches at the same moment and has to place his head against the table to make everything stop—stop moving like he’s surrounded by carnival funhouse mirrors. He’d grabbed a pair of sunglasses on the way out the door to help with the eyeball pulsing pain in his head. When Mingi hums low close to his ear, Hongjoong considers maybe he should have found some earplugs too.
“We begged for a couple of days off now that the hellweek of twenty deadlines is out of the way,” Yunho informs Mingi and gently places a cup near Hongjoong’s fingers. “They were out of lemonade so I got you Sprite.”
Hongjoong only offers a thumbs up.
Mingi kicks his foot against Hongjoong’s ankle. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
“What do you think?” Hongjoong shifts until he can give Mingi a squinted and one-eyed glare over the rim of his sunglasses. In his periphery he can see Yunho pop up to grab their order of greasy artery clogging heaven and sighs. “I’m hungover as shit.”
“We’re both hungover, you’re the only one acting like a drama queen about it.” Yunho taps the crown of his head with their plastic tray before he’s doling out their shared plate of fries and two burgers.
“I’m not acting like a drama queen,” Hongjoong mutters, already tugging Yunho’s plate over to save him from the scattering of pickles hidden under the lettuce and transferring his slices of nasty tomato to Yunho’s bun as payment. He benevolently ignores the low, "Bullshit" Yunho covers with a fake cough.
Mingi watches it all with his chin propped on his hand he’s got leaned on the table. “You guys are so weird. Why pick stuff off your food if you can just cut it at the register?”
“Because more tomato slices costs extra and I still kinda like the taste of pickle just not so much the texture,” Yunho answers. “Mind your business.”
Yunho passes Hongjoong a plastic knife to cut their food in half while he reaches over to salt the fries. The guys in the back were always stingy with the salt. Hongjoong saws at Yunho’s burger with a frown. In his opinion, there was nothing worse than pulling a soggy french fry from the bottom of the stack and finding it lacking in flavor.
Mingi’s face morphs into a scrunched expression of disgust. “I’m just saying it’s really strange how you two tend to coordinate food. I swear, sometimes I think you guys are more codependent than Wooyoung and San.”
“We are not nearly that bad,” Hongjoong stresses, shoving Yunho’s plate over so he can eat now that it’s cut up in easier to manage pieces because his roommate had a bad habit of inhaling his sandwiches whole otherwise and complaining for hours that his stomach hurt from eating too fast.
Hongjoong had started the odd practice just after the beginning their third year of college, the same year as the unfortunate unicorn tattoo incident, when Yunho was being a pouty baby about his own eating habits all the time when he should have been stressing out about looming project deadlines and fifty-page papers and the fact his wallet had been stolen by yet another skeevy twink wearing fake Louis Vuitton sneakers. Hongjoong had stepped in and started cutting things up for him and just...never stopped. It’s become second nature at this point: order food, wait for Yunho to pass it over, cut into smaller pieces, rinse, repeat.
Mingi leaves briefly to pick up his own food from the counter, but when he comes back, Yunho—beautiful, genius Yunho—adds in a blasé, “To be fair, Wooyoung and San have never woken up from an all-day bender naked in the living room with a certificate of marriage in the back pocket of their jeans.”
“Yunho!” Hongjoong yells over Mingi’s equally loud, “What!”
“Oh. Sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?” Yunho chomps on a handful of fries. “I figured everyone would find out super quick anyway.”
“Why? Because you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut?” Hongjoong kicks ineffectually at Yunho’s legs beneath the table as Mingi tries to clutch at his sleeves. “We’re supposed to fix it today!”
“You guys got fucking married?” Mingi nearly screams.
“You think my mouth is pretty?” Yunho asks with a smirk.
Hongjoong feels every ounce of his blood rush to his face and thinks very seriously about leaving this diner in favor of running away to, like, Canada or something.
“I mean, I guess it’s about time,” Mingi continues around a mouth full of food. “I think Yeosang started a betting pool senior year actually. Wonder who won?”
Yunho scoots his chair to Hongjoong’s side of the table and leans his weight against Hongjoong's shoulder. “Are my lips Park Jimin pretty? Be honest or I’ll cry.”
Maybe Jamaica, Hongjoong desperately cries to himself, I can get away from these assholes and eat jerk chicken every day of my life until I die of old age.
“I hate the both of you so much,” Hongjoong tells them sincerely, “Like, full on would throw both of you under a bus and feel perfectly fine about it.” He pulls the plate of fries away from the greedy reach of Yunho's fingers and turns to Mingi. "What do you mean Yeosang has a betting pool?"
Yunho props his chin on Hongjoong’s shoulder, holding up a fry to Hongjoong’s mouth as a peace offering. “That’s no way to speak to your husband.”
“I wouldn’t have a husband if you hadn't gotten us into this mess in the first place.”
“Me?” Yunho squawks in outrage. “You’re the oldest here! You’re supposed to be the responsible one, not me!”
“Whatever,” he says to Yunho, and to Mingi he asks, “Betting pool? Yeosang?”
“‘S what it sounds like. Jongho was like, ‘those two are going to end up married with eight children before any of us find a date’ and then Yeosang was all, ‘you wanna bet?’, and now here we are.” Mingi wipes at a smudge of mustard at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and drops the wad to his empty plate. “I don’t know who had it down for four years after college, though, considering we were all pretty convinced you’d get hitched right after graduation.”
Hongjoong drums his fingers along the table and pretends the headache pounding behind his eyeballs is just the hangover. Yunho is a frozen and unmoving weight on his shoulder, not even bothering to finish chewing in favor of staring at Mingi like their friend has suddenly grown three extra heads and turned neon purple.
Yunho rights himself and shifts his chair away. Hongjoong tries not to feel hurt by the sudden distance. “Why is...why were you guys so sure?”
Mingi glances between the two of them, eyes boggled in disbelief. Hongjoong stuffs half his burger in his mouth to keep it occupied in case he blurts out something incriminating, like the fact he and Yunho share a damn permanent tattoo. Hongjoong isn’t stupid, he’s known what their close friendship appears to be from the outside looking in, but Yunho had never acknowledged it. He thought it was just out of politeness for Hongjoong’s perpetual case of Single and Untouched instead of Yunho being willfully obtuse.
“Anyway,” Hongjoong smoothly covers, “It’s not as if we’re going to stay married. This is just a tiny blip on the radar. Seonghwa and Yeosang have done worse when they were black out drunk. Remember when they broke the only elevator in the dorm that night they were trying to turn it into a ball pit?”
“Hyung-ah, that was us who broke the elevator,” Yunho tells him in stage whisper. “Seonghwa and Yeosang put orbeez in the showers.”
“Oh. Right.” Hongjoong turns back to Mingi who is covering his mouth to, poorly, hide a grin. “Just...shut up and don't’ tell anybody about this until we can get this thing reversed.”
Mingi holds up his phone with the screen lit up by a cascading avalanche of text messages. “Too late. I already told Seonghwa.”
“No,” Hongjoong says in horror as Yunho cracks up. He glares and shoves a soggy handful of fries down Yunho’s shirt as revenge, ignoring Yunho’s whining and the odd stares they’re getting from other patrons. Sure enough, his own phone begins to vibrate, no doubt Seonghwa making fun of him already. “Goddammit, Mingi.”
“Sorry not sorry.” Mingi mimes finger guns and stands up. “You two have fun, I’ve gotta get back to work since I don’t have the luxury of newlywed freedom.”
“Dick,” Hongjoong hisses when Mingi is finally out of range. “Asshole. Moron!”
“Hey now,” Yunho placates while digging out the last crushed potato from his shirt and flinging it at Hongjoong’s cheek. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”
Hongjoong pouts. Mingi hadn’t even bothered to put his tray up. It was the least he could have done after outing Hongjoong to Seonghwa’s particular brand of annoying gremlin. Fuck, his friend is probably going to be planning a whole themed party around his and Yunho’s unfortunate drunken nuptials. His phone buzzes again. Hongjoong cringes.
“Thought I was your best friend,” Hongjoong mumbles under his breath. He stuffs the last remainder of his meal in his mouth and continues to ignore the incessant vibrations in his pocket.
“You’re my Hongjoong,” Yunho says matter-of-fact. “There’s a difference.”
“That makes no sense.”
Yunho shrugs. “Think of it this way: Mingi and I wouldn’t end up married after four drinks.” He shifts the last of the fries to Hongjoong’s plate with a grin. “Come on, eat up! You’re going to need your strength for today.”
Hongjoong accepts them with furrowed eyebrows, watching Yunho clean up Mingi's mess and attempt to sweet talk the woman up front for a takeaway dessert. It never works yet Yunho always tries.
But...
Why wouldn't he end up married to Mingi?
--------------
"Heard you and Yunho finally tied the knot behind our backs," Seonghwa snickers at him over the phone while Hongjoong and Yunho take an afternoon bus into town. "Mazel tov."
"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up while you can." Hongjoong scowls even though Seonghwa can't see the shape of his displeasure.
Seonghwa hums. "They're a little late considering the timing, but you know I'm going to be planning both of your bachelor parties, right? How many strippers should I have popping out of a cake? Tell me now so I can find the right people."
"None, you—" The rest gets muffled by Yunho's hand, who'd been keeping one ear open on the conversation and knew the exact moment he'd have to stick his hand in and/or over Hongjoong's mouth. Hongjoong glares. Yunho gives him the patented, 'Hyung we are in public and you're both embarrassing and disappointing me with your filthy mouth'. It's surprisingly effective. Hongjoong swallows back every scathing expletive he can think to call his erstwhile nemesis and says instead, "Order anything even remotely resembling a stripper and I will judo chop your throat the next time I see you."
Seonghwa cackles. "You don't scare me. I've got Yeosang and he knows karate. He could probably kick your elbow out of socket before you get anywhere near me."
"Seonghwa, I am begging you," Hongjoong tries, "Please, just this once let me live out my mistake in peace and quiet without turning it into a whole...thing."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Seonghwa replies blithely, as if he wasn't the one who found Hongjoong in Yunho's dorm bed that one time and wrote 'Congrats on the Sex' in glitter glue on their brick wall. They hadn't even done anything, unless staying up until four in the morning crying at nature documentaries together counted as foreplay. "Pass the phone to Yunho, I want to tell him he's got terrible taste in men."
"Ugh," Hongjoong groans, but gives his phone to Yunho anyway who greets Seonghwa with an excited, "I am so sorry for my husband's potty mouth. Can I request buttercream icing for the stripper cake?"
Assholes. Hongjoong thunks his head against the bus window pane that's probably seen more grime and bacteria than a used petri dish. The blurry headache sears hot and disorienting. Surrounded on all sides by mean spirited dick waffles.
When Hongjoong folds his arms together and kicks his feet on the ground like a toddler, Yunho pinches his thigh with a glare and pointed, "Hongjoong, stop pouting."
"Quit ganging up on me with Seonghwa."
Yunho rolls his eyes and tells their oldest friend, "Yeah, he's being a little shit on public transport. Want me to tell him anything before I hang up?" Yunho listens intently for a moment before his face transforms, mouth curling up an instant before he's slapping a palm over his grin followed by muffled squeaking laughter. "Will do."
Hongjoong doesn't trust the way Yunho is still pulled away from his side to snort ugly laughter in his hands. "Do I even want to know?"
Yunho waves him off, shaking his head and curling in on himself when he can't seem to gain the self control to stop.
The bus jolts to a stop, midday traffic backing up along the streets. Hongjoong listens to the groan of passengers under the annoying hiccuping laughter happening beside him and sighs. Allowing his mind to wander, Hongjoong wonders what his mother would do to him if she found out he’d gotten married without even saying anything to the family first. If it was anyone but Yunho she’d probably skin him alive and feed him to the neighborhood cats, but his mother would probably trade Hongjoong in for Yunho any day so maybe he’d be alright if she somehow found out. Yunho had weaseled his way into a special place in her heart when he stayed for Chuseok one year when his own family collectively came down with the flu and refused to let Yunho visit.
Hongjoong closes his eyes. Yunho was tricky that way, always managing to squeeze himself into the tender places in your heart when you least expected him to and refusing to leave.
“Oh,” Yunho gasps. “I think I figured out what the cake thing was about.”
Hongjoong hums.
Yunho leans heavily against his side again. “Look! You took a picture of a bakery window and they have a flyer: ‘Free small specialty cake for newlyweds. Must provide proof of registration’.”
Hongjoong peeks an eye open and snatches his phone away. “Why are you going through my camera roll?”
“Wanted to see if you took any embarrassing pictures of me yesterday,” Yunho says. With a saucy eyebrow wiggle, he adds, “And maybe I wanted to see if you’ve taken any dick pics lately.”
Hongjoong grimaces. “You’re the one who takes dick pics. My phone is untainted by genitals.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you’ve got that whole celibate for life thing going,” Yunho muses. He doesn’t stop leaning his weight along Hongjoong’s side and it’s starting to make Hongjoong sweat in his winter coat.
“I’m not celibate,” Hongjoong hisses low and embarrassed, pushing Yunho out of his personal bubble and pocketing his phone. “I just don’t broadcast my hookups like a certain somebody I know.”
There’s an old woman with her husband sitting in the seats in front of them and Hongjoong can see her glancing back at them from the reflection in the windows, whispering to her husband. Hongjoong’s face burns. This isn’t the kind of conversation he’d normally willingly have while in public.
Yunho takes a long moment to respond. “You—wait you actually...go out? With people?”
“Don’t know why you’re so shocked,” Hongjoong mutters under his breath. “Yunho, you leave at like 9 at night and don’t come back home until the next day all the time. What do you think I do while you’re out living it up? Sit around by myself twiddling my thumbs?”
Yunho continues to gape. “But you—you’ve never brought anyone home! Or mentioned it!”
“Yes. Well.” Hongjoong slides further down his seat. “I just haven’t found the right person worth mentioning yet.”
Hongjoong doesn’t say he’s been trying to find someone who doesn’t make him feel like he’s just passing the time waiting for Yunho to come home. Someone who is just as fun and excitable and easy to be around. He’d carried a lovesick torch for Yunho for two years back in college, and gave up when it was apparent nothing was ever going to come of it. Hongjoong just wishes he could meet someone who makes him feel the same way as he did back then, but every unsuccessful hookup was just another reminder that Hongjoong may be hopelessly invested in a friendship that will lead to nowhere but heartache. Any day now he's going to end up investing in a fedora.
Yunho swallows a few times, loud. They don’t say anything for a long time while the bus rumbles at a snail’s pace down the main drag stymied by traffic and too many pedestrian crosswalks.
Out of nowhere, Yunho quietly suggests they find the bakery again and pick out a cake.
“One last hurrah before we untie the knot,” Yunho says. “You can’t say no, Hongjoong. Everyone likes cake, especially if it’s free.”
Hongjoong reluctantly agrees as long as he gets to pick the flavor of whatever is on offer. The bus rocks jarringly to one side as they hit a huge dip in the asphalt where a manhole cover hadn’t quite been placed level. His stomach roils angrily at being so disturbed.
“Hey.” Yunho nudges him with his elbow. “Hongjoong.”
“What now?” Hongjoong mutters with his face in his hands, massaging at his temples and willing away the angry clench of his stomach with every bounce of the bus when it hits yet another pothole. Apparently the streets were lousy with them. “And that’s hyung to you, you brat.”
Yunho doesn’t acknowledge the statement and pokes him in the arm again. “Call me husband.”
Hongjoong inhales, sudden and sharp, and ends up choking on spit lodging itself in the wrong pipe. “Excuse me?”
“Just once! Come on it’ll be fun.” Yunho grins at him, bright, totally at odds with the pounding hangover Hongjoong knows he’s still suffering from. “We’re going to try and get a free cake out of all this, right? Let’s be sure you can make it believable.”
Hongjoong scrunches his nose. “No. Why?”
“I just told you because it would be fun.” Yunho bops the end of his nose. “Also you’re a terrible actor and need all the practice you can get.”
“Yunho—”
“One time.”
“Fine,” Hongjoong relents. Heart pounding, he manages a hushed and stuttered whisper of, “You're my h-husband.”
Yunho stares at him, mouth gaped open and eyes wide as blushed pink edges its way over the curved tip of Yunho's ears.
Hongjoong fidgets. “Satisfied?”
“Oh my god,” Yunho says faintly. Hongjoong’s heart trips over itself, stutters to a stop and kicks back up triple time as Yunho keeps his eyes locked on him. Hongjoong has never quite been able to handle having all of Yunho’s focused attention like this. “Hyung, we’re going to get so much cake.”
--------------
They do not, as it turns out, get ‘so much cake’. For one, when the flyer said they were extra small, they really meant the teensiest round they could get away with and still be able to say ‘oh yeah that’s definitely a cake and not an iced muffin’. For two, the girl working the register takes one look at Hongjoong’s pale face behind a pair of sunglasses, Yunho’s overeager bouncing, and does not believe them to be married. At all.
“Where’s your rings?” She asks a bit dubiously.
“We’re going non-traditional since we’re trying to save up money for a honeymoon. Rings didn’t seem worth the investment at the time,” Yunho answers smoothly, like maybe he practiced the line in his head on the ride here. He produces their signed and stamped certificate with a flourish from his back pocket. “Here. Our papers to prove it.”
The girl takes the papers with a frown and scans over the wording while Yunho wedges himself back into Hongjoong’s personal bubble behind his back to prop his chin against Hongjoong’s head. Hongjoong scowls. Between Yunho and Mingi and Seonghwa, his life was lousy with giants and they all liked to remind him of that fact.
“We’ve got strawberry and coconut left for today.” She hands back the receipt with a squinting pursed mouth look to her face, like she still doesn’t believe they’re actually married and is psyching herself up to call them out on a forgery. She doesn’t though, just waves her arm expansively at the display of cakes. “Your pick.”
Yunho pats at Hongjoong’s belly. “Get the strawberry.”
“You hate strawberry though,” Hongjoong whispers back. “Let’s just get the coconut.”
“Yeah, but it’s your favorite and I’d rather you enjoy yourself.” Yunho says ruefully and drums his fingers along Hongjoong’s hips. He can’t really tell if Yunho is just playing it up for the benefit of the server and the small scattering of people eating their desserts who are no doubt listening in. “I was the one who proposed with a ringpop instead of gold. You deserve something nice.”
“Yunho, I’m not going to get an entire cake that you won’t even enjoy later,” Hongjoong says exasperated. To the girl behind the counter, who is getting visibly flustered and starry-eyed at them, he grins. “We’ll take the coconut. That way this one,” he reaches up to pinch at Yunho’s cheeks, “won’t be pouting at me later.”
She swipes at her eyes for a moment and rushes out an emotionally overwhelmed, “Coming right up.”
Yunho dips just low enough to smush a kiss to Hongjoong’s cheek, skewing Hongjoong’s sunglasses a little with his nose. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hongjoong makes no move to get out of the warm circle of Yunho’s arms and leans into Yunho’s chest because he knows his friend can take the weight. “Treat me to a vacation and we’ll call it even.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Yunho laughs against the back of his head. “Let me pull a fancy hotel room right out of my ass.”
They both startle as an old man coughs off to their left. Hongjoong’s head comes into sudden, sharp contact with Yunho’s chin and he rubs soothingly at the tender area with an apologetic grimace while Yunho pouts.
“Sorry to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but—” the man digs around in his coat pocket and produces a crinkled brochure stapled to folded sheets of printer paper. “I couldn’t help but overhear you two haven't planned a honeymoon yet and I'd like to give this to you.”
He holds the stack out for one of them to take. His gnarled arthritic hands shake slightly.
“My old lady and I, we used to rent this cabin every year for our anniversary, but, see, she’s been gone for two years now and I still have the habit of buying up the spot. It’s lonely for an old man like me, but you two should go and enjoy.” He delicately places the stack into Yunho’s slack palm.
Hongjoong glances up at Yunho who’s gone pale and flushed at the same time, guilt and shame going to war over his face. “Sir, we really shouldn’t—”
"My wife would be tickled pink knowing I gave two young newlyweds such as yourselves a few days of isolation," the man interrupts Yunho with a laugh. "Go. Enjoy. Remember to tell each other how much you mean to one another because you'll never know when the other person will be gone."
They watch the old man leave the small shop front with a small skip in his step and a whistle falling from his mouth. Yunho still has the generous offering in his hand reached outward as if he could somehow give it back. Guilt, ugly and green, gnaws at Hongjoong's stomach. Going by the nauseous slant to Yunho's mouth, he's not alone.
The girl behind the register, once stoic and distrustful, passes off the cake with tears in her eyes. "Your order, sirs, and please enjoy your honeymoon."
--------------
They take their cake and their ill gotten reward to eat propped up on a short brick wall just across from the government building that houses the district office in charge of marriage registration and, Hongjoong assumes, the people they need to speak with in order to get this drunken mishap fixed.
The cake is good. Sweet. The coconut flavor is delicate instead of overpowering, but all Hongjoong can taste is the bitter tang of their lie.
Yunho is the first to break the silence. “We shouldn’t get an annulment just yet.”
Hongjoong taps the back of his heels against the brick. “Because an old man gave us his vacation rental?”
“Mhm. I mean, I feel like if we don’t go we’re going to get haunted and if we do go, and we’re divorced or whatever when we get there, we’re going to get double haunted and start vomiting pea soup everywhere.”
“I think you’ve been watching one too many old horror movies.”
“Hyung,” Yunho tugs at his coat sleeve. “We’ll turn into ghouls or get possessed, I just know it!”
Hongjoong pulls his sleeve away so he can stab at another tiny bit of cake hidden beneath coconut shavings and vanilla icing. “You’re acting like we’re just going to up and leave to fuck around somewhere in the mountains for a weekend with, like, zero notice.”
Hongjoong opens the brochure again. A hidden getaway, the advertisement reads, relax in seclusion still conveniently located only a short five mile drive into town. If they stayed, they’d have to rent a car, and pack a bunch of bulky winter clothes, and also be away from their apartment for two days...where Seonghwa couldn’t find them to tease them with more threats of stripper cake.
“It does have a nice looking jacuzzi though,” Hongjoong finally admits.
“See?” Yunho points at him with his plastic fork, one cheek bulged out with a heaping forkful of dessert. “Serendipity, a sign from the universe, whatever you wanna call it. We gotta stay married until we’ve experienced the cabin jacuzzi and then we get this dissolved.”
Hongjoong eyes him with a frown. “Why do I get the feeling you’re stalling?”
Yunho frowns back. He viciously chews another heaping mound of cake and, with icing still clinging to the edges of his mouth, says, "Hongjoong, you know my track record with relationships. Can you not just let me enjoy having a husband for five minutes? Goddamn, dude."
Hongjoong rolls his eyes and reaches out to wipe the smudge of vanilla icing from the corner of Yunho's mouth, licking away the stripe of white from his finger with a pleased hum. Yunho swallows harsh, too much cake at once and not enough liquid to push it down, Hongjoong suspects. They should have ordered a coffee or something while they were still at the bakery.
"Fine. We'll stay married until the weekend is over, but when we get back we have got to get us fixed before this turns into a legal nightmare. That good enough for you? Sound fair?”
“Sounds fair,” Yunho wheezes out around a throat full of too dry cake. “Awesome. Thank you.”
--------------
Seonghwa, or Mingi, has apparently gone ahead and informed San and Wooyoung about the marriage thing, because when Hongjoong and Yunho come home there is a handmade gift basket propped against their door. Through vibrantly pink cellophane Hongjoong can see at least three different types of lube, a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, oversized sex dice, and a gargantuan coffee table copy of the Kama Sutra bulging out the sides. Yunho takes one look at the collection and loses his mind laughing, actually has to keep himself upright by leaning against their door with his face pressed against the wood.
Hongjoong sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, not even caring it pushes his sunglasses awkwardly into the corner of his eyes. “I need a drink.”
“Hair of the dog,” Yunho agrees, still giggling quietly, and trots off to pull an expensive bottle of whiskey from their top cabinet. It had been a gift from Yunho's dad to Hongjoong when they'd moved into the apartment and gotten jobs at the same office, a 'thank you' for taking such good care of his son. Hongjoong feels a little ill thinking of the man's reaction if he knew 'taking care of' now included 'staying married to for vacation purposes'.
Hongjoong places the tawdry gift basket on the kitchen table and considers finding new friends.
They clink the only two whiskey glasses they own and knock back the first stinging round of alcohol to take the edge off. Yunho’s face crinkles up, which is kinda cute if Hongjoong allowed himself a moment of longing truth. Yunho pours them both another generous glug before leading Hongjoong to the living room couch, sidestepping the pile of Yunho’s clothes and the cum blanket still strewn around the room, and turns on some drama they’d been trying to watch for two weeks now.
The girl on screen is giving some tearful confession about keeping secrets from one of the three love interests and Yunho makes an offended noise in his throat.
Hongjoong roughly bumps their shoulders together. “‘S wrong with you now?”
Yunho huffs, cheeks rosy from excellent top shelf whiskey and obviously buzzed. “I still can’t believe you’re not allergic to sex or whatever. You never went out with anyone ever back in college and you’re always here when I come home!” Yunho points an unsteady finger at him. “Mean! Secret keeper!”
“Not true. I dated Seonghwa very publicly for a week,” Hongjoong says reasonably. He swallows back the part where it was mostly for show so Yeosang would quit being a cowardly pissbaby, Seonghwa’s words, but that had been a secret. A blood pact between soul brothers who gave sloppy handjobs and were bad at frenching. “Why is this such a problem for you?”
Yunho crosses the tiny strip of couch to flop most of his weight into Hongjoong’s lap and smacks at his cheeks, pushes Hongjoong’s face together until his lips pucker awkwardly around a scowl. “You guys only dated to make Yeosang unstick his head from his ass and realize he's a jealous dick.”
Not so much a secret then. Hongjoong sighs, put out.
Yunho hiccups. “And! And it's not a problem. I'm just—I'm just kinda...” Yunho waves his arms in a wide arc with a vague, “You know?”
“I really don't,” Hongjoong laughs at him. He has to catch Yunho around the waist when his roommate groans and leans backward to the point he’s almost overbalancing and landing on his ridiculously overdramatic noggin. “Go drink some water, you're getting too carried away.”
“Drink you is what I’ll do,” Yunho mutters under his breath, but relents in shifting away to bang around their kitchen for a while. Hongjoong can only hope it’s in search of the water pitcher and not the giant container of shit-tier vodka they kept under the sink for emergencies...or horror movie marathons, whichever came first.
Biting back a grin, Hongjoong calls out, “You know, Jongho said he'd be more than happy to date me if I ever got bored being a lonely bachelor.”
There's a slamming noise followed by a shrill, “What", and Hongjoong can't help but laugh until he's bent double against his thighs, hiccuping gasping and breathless giggles into the gap of his knees. Yunho comes around the corner with their water pitcher held threateningly.
“Now you’re just messing with me.”
“Am I,” Hongjoong says with a smirk. “Hurry up and get back here, I think they’re about to kiss.”
Yunho scrambles back to his place against Hongjoong’s side. “With the CEO? I thought they hated each other!”
Hongjoong shrugs, accepting the glass of water Yunho passes to him with his eyes locked on the screen. “Stranger things have happened I guess.”
--------------
They end up falling asleep in the middle of an episode. Hongjoong vaguely remembers a police officer and a businessman clawing at each other in an alleyway and blinks awake to them sharing a toast in some fancy restaurant with a lot of crystal and no other patrons. Yunho pushes at his shoulder.
“Hongjoong, wake up,” Yunho whispers, “It’s after three.”
“Then leave me here to die,” Hongjoong slurs out, squinting at the blurring image of Yunho’s sleep soft and frowny face. “Save yourself.”
He closes his eyes and feigns snoring.
“Oh my god,” he hears Yunho laugh, and then strong hands are wedging themselves beneath his thighs and dragging him to the edge of the couch. “Work with me and grab my shoulders at least.”
Hongjoong whines, but drapes himself at Yunho’s chest, locks his arms around Yunho’s neck and allows his best friend to pull him up and away. Cradled in Yunho’s arms is nice. It feels safe. Yunho had apparently taken a shower just before and his hair is still damp making Hongjoong’s cheeks feel cold from the wet.
“Shoulda dried your hair,” he mumbles against Yunho’s shoulder.
“It’s fine.” Yunho bumps open the door to his room with his hip and drops Hongjoong unceremoniously to his bed, bigger than Hongjoong’s own and a thousand times more comfortable. On hard days at the office pushing paper and dealing with too many nosy coworkers they’ll come home and cuddle up in the middle of Yunho’s bed for short stress naps. Sometimes Hongjoong will sneak in when Yunho is out sowing his wild oats or whatever the fuck and fall asleep, sometimes waking up with Yunho curled up behind him and snoring into his back.
Yunho takes it upon himself to pull off Hongjoong’s jeans and his sweater leaving him almost totally bare except for a pair of briefs and his socks. He bundles Hongjoong up in the center of his bed before sliding in behind him, arms warm over Hongjoong’s belly and his breath tickling at the hairs on Hongjoong’s nape.
Curled up in Yunho’s bed, beneath Yunho’s blankets, breathing in the comforting scent of Yunho's preferred body wash, Hongjoong thinks if he isn’t careful then he’s going to get used to this. He’s going to crave being surrounded by Yunho on all sides and won’t be able to remember what it’s like not to have him, which will make Yunho’s eventual departure from his life when he finds a long term boyfriend all the more heartbreaking.
Yunho hooks a leg over his thighs and whines. “I can feel you thinking. Stoppit.”
“'m not.”
“You are,” Yunho accuses and slaps ineffectually at Hongjoong's face. “My Hongjoong's brain is too noisy, it's keeping me awake.”
“You keep saying that, but—”
Yunho whines louder, tugging Hongjoong into his chest and biting at the curve of his shoulder. “Sleep!”
Hongjoong tries, really he does, but the phantom sensation of Yunho's teeth against his skin keeps him up long after Yunho is dropped back into dreamland, wispy puffs of breath working over his neck.
Oh no, he thinks, oh no no no no no...
The torch.
The torch he carried for years, extinguished by force and Hongjoong's unwillingness to risk his friendship, springs back to life in one burning glare of heat. Every imaginary crackle of flame is just another burning lance of Yunho, Yunho, Yunho to his chest.
Stupid cake. Stupid, stupid marriage registration office.
Hongjoong cringes in on himself and begs his brain to turn off.
Stupid me.
--------------
“We’re having a boys’ night,” Seonghwa informs them the next morning over facetime in a tone that brooks no argument. “And by that I mean Friday you two are going to be here at seven for your double bachelor party and make sure to wear something you won’t mind getting covered in glitter.”
Hongjoong groans, flicking his phone into the center of the kitchen table while he waits for Yunho to get done cooking their breakfast. “I’d rather abstain from any glitter adventures, thanks.”
“Boo! You’re no fun anymore,” Seonghwa jeers. “What happened to the Hongjoong who broke elevators and let Jongho spit tequila in his mouth?”
He and Seonghwa both jump when Yunho drops a pan to the floor, a loud clang and clatter of metal and faux wood meeting. Hongjoong makes to stand up, but Yunho waves him off.
“Sorry, clumsy me,” Yunho says in a very clipped tone. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
“You sure you’re okay?” Hongjoong leans down to get a look at Yunho’s feet. “You didn’t hit your toes or anything, did you?”
“I’m fine,” Yunho reassures him just as Seonghwa is cooing out an obnoxious, “Aw, what a sweet and caring husband you are.”
“Goodbye, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong directs at his phone with as much disgust as he can muster and hangs up while Seonghwa is too busy snickering to notice. He droops until his chin hits the table top and allows himself a few moments of watching Yunho’s shirtless back shift with the movement of his arms as he works on heating up their eggs and sausage. Part of him wants to reach out and touch, wants to trace the dips and valleys of Yunho’s spine until he can navigate them by sense memory alone.
Hongjoong shakes away the thought. “Want any help?”
“Nah.” Yunho offers him a grin over his shoulder. “You just sit pretty and I’ll bring food to you in a second.”
Yunho brings him a full plate and glass of orange juice and sets them down at the same time he leans over to land a wet smacking kiss to Hongjoong’s cheek. For some reason, Yunho had started the habit of dropping kisses to Hongjoong’s cheeks or his knuckles or his forehead, like a nervous tic, and Hongjoong hasn’t found the heart to tell him to stop. Not that he really wants it to either.
Hongjoong reaches up to pat Yunho's chest in thanks instead of opening his mouth and risking saying something ridiculous and sappy.
Once breakfast is over, and Yunho is hovering next to him with the drying towel as Hongjoong washes the dirty dishes, Hongjoong clears his throat.
“Yunho, I know you said your track record with relationships is abysmal, but I think you’re a good husband, too.” Yunho sucks in a quiet, shaking breath next to him and Hongjoong hastily amends, “I mean, to someone. Someday. Whoever you end up marrying, uh, for real. You know.”
Oh my god, shut up, stop talking, he cringes to himself. Foot meet mouth. Hongjoong you fucking awkward goober.
Yunho is silent for a long time while Hongjoong internally berates himself, but when he finally speaks up his voice is thick and choked up. “Thanks. That—that means a lot.”
He can only nod back, embarrassment making his throat stick to itself, and aggressively scrubs at a stubborn bit of burnt egg clinging to the pan. Yunho must get bored waiting for his next drying duty because he drops the towel to the counter and steps behind him to pull Hongjoong into his chest for a hug. Yunho’s bangs tickle the back of his neck where Hongjoong’s sleep shirt is gaped open a little. It was actually Yunho’s once that his roommate was going to throw out for not fitting into his wardrobe that Hongjoong kept because it was big and comfortable and hit him mid-thigh so he could wander around without underwear and no one (Yunho) would be any wiser.
“I’m glad I have you,” Yunho whispers after a moment. Hongjoong freezes. His traitorous hopeless romantic heart beats double time, a staccato rhythm that’s just Yunho’s name in morse code, until Yunho sighs out an amended, “to practice on.”
“Right, yeah, of course.” Hongjoong wilts and finishes the last plate, drying it off himself when it becomes apparent Yunho isn’t going to move from his back hug position. “Practice.”
--------------
Yunho disappears after lunch and Hongjoong takes the opportunity to deep clean the apartment, finally throws the gross shared blanket in the wash, and calls up the company renting out the cabin to make sure the brochure and the printed reservations are actually legit in the event he and Yunho decide to rent a car to drive out there. Turns out the old man had actually gone ahead and called the agency to let them know a new couple would be taking his place this weekend and they'd already prepared the space with complimentary gift baskets and rose bouquets.
"Oh, you, um, you didn't need to go that far," Hongjoong tells the receptionist over the phone. "We didn't want to cause a fuss..."
"Nonsense!" The receptionist exclaims happily, customer service friendly voice in place. Hongjoong's skin crawls considering he has to use the same voice all the time at work and knows it's the friendly version of 'we're just trying to make you a repeat customer by giving you a couple of perks you fuck'. "Check in starts at nine Saturday morning. You can retrieve your key for the duration of your stay at the front office as you head into the mountain. Mr. Han has already provided a credit card for any incidentals. We are excited for your visit and hope you enjoy your stay!"
"Right," Hongjoong says, "Thank you."
He hangs up. It's after three and Yunho still hasn't come back home so he decides to at least drag their suitcases down from the top of their closet so Yunho can pack what he needs for a weekend getaway. Two days of isolation from the friend group and Grindr. Their not honeymoon.
Four rolls around, bleeding into five, and Hongjoong has to tell himself to stop waiting up, to stop glancing from the television to the front door for Yunho to come stumbling in with his skin flushed red and his mouth swollen and bruised. It's a scene he's had to sit through innumerable times so this shouldn't be...he should be used to it. He was used to it before this whole marriage business slapped him in the face and reminded Hongjoong that hey numbnuts you're not over him.
He's no longer parsing whatever is playing on Netflix, some comedy special he pulled up as background noise. Hongjoong turns it off and buries his head against his knees. After the fifth round of telling himself not to think about Yunho getting pressed into a nameless stranger's bed, Yunho walks in.
"Honey, I'm home!" Yunho shouts from the entrance.
Hongjoong doesn't look at him. "Welcome back," he answers mostly to his kneecaps.
There’s a sound of shifting and crinkled bags, like Yunho has been shopping instead of getting railed, and Hongjoong peeks an eye open to see Yunho drop five different paper totes at the edge of the couch. His skin isn’t flushed. There aren’t any new hickies along his neck. He doesn’t smell like someone else’s cologne and something in Hongjoong’s chest unclenches just the tiniest bit at the knowledge.
Yunho leans over him with a frown. “Are you feeling alright? You look pale.” Yunho slides a palm over Hongjoong’s forehead and his own to compare temperatures. “You don’t feel any warmer than usual…”
"I'm alright. Was just...practicing some stretches." Hongjoong tries to pull Yunho's hand away, but Yunho only curls their hands together in a tight grip with a pout. "I take it you went shopping?"
Yunho instantly perks up and releases his hold to drag over his bags of purchases. "Yeah! San took a half-day for a client that never showed, so we went to that outlet strip to look around now that they've finished renovating and opened up another wing." His roommate pulls over one of the biggest bags to plop into Hongjoong's lap with a grin. "I bought you some shirts and stuff I thought you might like."
Hongjoong blinks, overwhelmed. "You—bought stuff for me?"
"I also brought us dinner because I'm awesome." Yunho bounces on his heels obviously pleased with himself. "Come on, come on! Tell me what you think!"
The first shirt is one Hongjoong had actually mentioned liking the last time he and Yunho were out shopping to pass the time. So is the second. And the third. And the belt buried at the bottom is the same snakeskin patterned thing he thumbed over for three minutes and tried to justify buying just because it would match a pair of boots he wore maybe twice a year. Everything, all of it, is in his exact size.
Hongjoong takes it all in with his breath catching in his throat. When had Yunho taken notice of what he’d been window shopping for? Why had Yunho noticed?
“Do you like ‘em?”
Hongjoong stares helplessly at Yunho’s giddy face, at his teeth barely peeking down to bite against his bottom lip, at the nervous bop of his arms to his hips.
“Yeah.” He runs his hands over the fabric piled across his legs with his heart swelling in his chest. Damn. “I really do. What’s all this for anyway? You don’t usually go out of your way to buy me things.”
Yunho shrugs. “Thought it might be nice to have a honeymoon wardrobe refresh before we leave for the weekend. We’re still going, right? Because I already asked San to make sure the apartment doesn’t burn down in case we get stuck out there an extra day or two.”
"Why would we get stuck?"
"Because it's snowing over there," Yunho flatly informs him. "We could get snowed in and have to share body heat until they dig us out."
Hongjoong grimaces. He hates being cold almost as much as he hates Yunho leaving to go get—anyway.
"So maybe we shouldn't go."
Yunho hands him a styrofoam container of pasta from their favorite Italian place only a three block walk from the apartment. "I'd rather be a human icicle than turn into a ghoul, hyung. We gotta go."
"I still think you watch too many horror movies for your own good," Hongjoong says around a mouthful of carbs and alfredo-y goodness. He points at the rest of Yunho's bags with his plastic fork, particularly the blacked out bag tied in a knot by Yunho's foot so the contents are kept secret. "What else did you buy?"
"Oh, uh," Yunho stutters, kicking the bags underneath the coffee table where they are out of view. "Just some—just some accessories and stuff. Games."
Hongjoong squints up at him. "That's suspicious as all hell, dude."
"Shut up and eat your noodles," Yunho huffs.
--------------
Seonghwa and Yeosang’s apartment is decked out in lurid posters with glitter letters and dribbling acrylic paint congratulating Yunho on finally bagging a man, on Hongjoong no longer being a cuck, and several poster boards covered in Yeosang’s artistic take on cartoonish dicks lined up in the shape of hearts. There’s several blow up penises with wings attached hanging from the ceiling, one even has a disturbingly huge plastic piercing through the tip. He can see Mingi and Yeosang play fighting each other with lightsaber pricks and making whooshing sounds in the background.
Hongjoong takes one look at the apartment and Seonghwa’s grinning smarmy face, and makes to turn back around to leave.
Yunho catches him by the neck of his jacket and drags him back before he can get too far. “Oh no you don’t.”
“Yunho, please,” Hongjoong begs, “Please let me go so I don’t have to witness this with my own two eyeballs.”
Seonghwa grabs his arm to help Yunho drag him bodily into the apartment and together they manage to get Hongjoong’s resisting body into the entrance where Seonghwa shoves a satin bride to be sash over his shoulders and a headband with dick antennas on his head. Before he can even think to drag the offending accessories off, Yunho already has his phone out taking pictures.
Hongjoong deflates. “Seonghwa, why is your idea for a bachelor party straight out of sorority girl’s weekly? This is...a lot.”
“Because it’s fun and I knew you’d hate it,” Seonghwa tells him. “And, to be fair, Jongho came up with most of this so you can thank him when he gets back with the cake.”
“I’m sick of cake,” Hongjoong grumbles, frowning harder when he notices Yunho isn’t being given the same sash and headband treatment and has, instead, been given a kingly crown with only one glitter glue cock on the center spike. “Why does Yunho get a crown and I don’t?”
“Top privilege?” Yunho flutters his eyelashes at him.
Hongjoong scowls harder, yanking the headband off his head and thrusting it in Yunho's direction while Seonghwa snorts. "Then hand it over you big bottom."
"No!" Yunho grabs hold to the edges of the crown protectively. "And I'm not a bottom."
"Liar."
"Fine, I'm not a bottom all the time." Yunho looks to Seonghwa for support. "Hyung, tell him to quit trying to steal my crown."
"Tell him yourself. Hongjoong is your husband now, learn to deal with it." Seonghwa drags them into the living room by their sleeves where Yeosang and Mingi suspend their great discksaber battle to wave them enthusiastically at the newcomers. Previously hidden around the corner from the front door, San and Wooyoung pop celebratory crackers from their position laid out on the floor beneath a truly horrific portrait of Yunho grinning around the mouth of a beer bottle, a younger version of Hongjoong himself dead to the world drooling against Yunho's neck, and 'finally' written out in ugly neon pink bubble letters.
Hongjoong takes it all in with mounting trepidation. How had their friends pulled this together in the span of...two days? He squints passed the glitter and the confetti drifting over his face in suspicion, wondering if some of the printouts and posters and the blown up portrait from bygone years had already been purchased and ready to go years ago. Maybe once Yeosang opened up the betting pool that Hongjoong is still kind of pissed about.
Yunho thinks it's all hilarious and divebombs into Mingi's personal space, wrapping himself around their friend like an octopus surrounding its prey. Mingi welcomes the intrusion with a gleeful yell and his equally octopus-like arms digging into Yunho’s back. Wooyoung decides he wants in on the action and squeezes himself into the awkward bundle while San pouts from being left all by his lonesome on the floor.
Yeosang bops the lot of them with his dicksaber with a bland look on his face. And because Yeosang is kind of an asshole, he turns to Hongjoong to tell him very seriously, “Congrats on the shotgun wedding. When’s the baby due?”
Seonghwa snorts unattractively and starts hanging himself off Hongjoong’s shoulder to keep himself upright as he laughs. Hongjoong really should get new friends. Monday morning he’s going to plop himself down at the table with the IT crew and ingratiate himself into a new group not populated by aggressively sarcastic dickbags.
“There is no baby,” Hongjoong says, looking up at the ceiling and counting tiles to calm his nerves. This was such a bad idea, he should have just added an extra day to that free cabin stay and whisked Yunho off for a much needed vacation this morning instead of sticking around town to be made fun of. “Unless you count Yunho.”
San drapes himself along Hongjoong’s free side, fingering the edge of his godforsaken sash. “How’s your back feeling? I know from experience Yunho is pretty big. He probably broke you in half.”
“San!” He and Yunho yell over each other, scandalized.
Wooyoung adds in a pissed off, “I am right here.”
Thankfully they’re saved from any further mortifying interaction by Jongho coming through the door with a giant box in his arms. Hongjoong can only guess by the matte black bag hanging from Jongho’s elbow that there’s going to be penis shaped candles involved. Under the backdrop of San and Wooyoung arguing, Mingi and Yunho roughhousing while Seonghwa and Yeosang take turns playing referee, Jongho pushes a fruit plate out of the way so he can plop the box containing the cake on the dining room table and faces him with a bashful grin.
“Nice sash,” Jongho compliments with his eyebrows raised, an amused slant to his mouth. “Matches your lovely headband.”
Hongjoong picks at the edge of the costume satin already shredding along the seams and slides into a seat at the table. “Shut up. What kind of cake did Seonghwa have you pick up?”
“Supposedly it’s a vanilla flavored rainbow. I tried to find you guys a double groom cake topper but they only had the usual hetero in stock so I super glued a couple together.”
Jongho holds up a terrible figure of two grooms glued together awkwardly, one is missing an arm while the other is glued at an odd angle—like it’s trying to run away. That one must be Yunho, Hongjoong thinks wryly, the one person in the group that’s totally against being tied down.
“Do you like it?”
Hongjoong hums. “I’ll like it better if that black bag on your arm isn’t full of dick shaped candles.”
Jongho purses his lips to hide a grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So Seonghwa didn’t have you pick up a bunch of genitalia themed decorations for the gay wedding cake he ordered?”
“Alright, I have a little bit of an idea,” Jongho laughs, upending the bag to reveal a small avalanche of candles and sugar candies in various shapes and sizes. “To be fair, I did get a nice discount when I told the guy working the checkout it was for two dudes finally getting their shit together.”
Hongjoong frowns. “Jongho, you know we’re not actually—whoa!”
Before he can finish the sentence, Hongjoong finds himself being lifted bodily from his seat by two huge hands around his waist and deposited into a familiar lap. Yunho keeps his arms tight around Hongjoong’s belly and blows a raspberry against the skin of his neck.
Hongjoong blinks. “Hello?”
“My legs are cold,” Yunho whines petulantly. “Hi, Jongho.”
Jongho’s face wobbles like he’s trying to keep from laughing. “Yunho.”
“So go tell Seonghwa to turn up the thermostat,” Hongjoong interrupts while trying to peel Yunho’s fingers away from his stomach one by one.
“No,” Yunho answers, stubborn as a mule as always. “Just stay here and warm my legs for a while.”
“You're weird,” Hongjoong tells him sincerely and feeds Yunho a grape from the fruit tray Jongho had pushed nearly to the edge of the table. He wills himself to ignore the feel of Yunho’s lips wrapped around the tips of his fingers and his tongue flicking out to lap up a tiny bit of juice that had run down his ring finger. “Jongho-yah, how's work treating you?”
Yunho's hands tighten along his belly.
Jongho sticks his tongue out in concentration as he divvies up the decorations to place them just so against the white icing. “Fine. I landed a big order client for the company so they’re giving me a huge bonus next quarter.”
“Oh! Congrats, that’s—” Yunho drops a kiss to the center of his palm just to be a little shit and distract Hongjoong from complimenting their friend. Hongjoong wipes away the spit on Yunho’s cheek with a grimace. “Gross.”
Jongho eyes them dubiously. “Are you sure you guys aren’t just going to stay married?”
“As if,” Hongjong grumbles, hating the way his heart jumps at the notion of making this permanent, of having Yunho forever—for keeps. He bats at Yunho’s neck behind him with a very theatric and put upon sigh. “No one can tame this wild stallion I’m afraid.”
“That so?” Jongho asks and leans his chin in his hand, one finger swirling over the tip of a penis candle. If Hongjoong didn’t know any better, he’d say Jongho was trying to, like, flirt. Or play coy. Something. It makes Hongjoong's cheeks burn at the implication.
Yunho bounces his knees. “That's not true! I’m tameable.”
“Literally since when?” Hongjoong scoffs. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Yunho grabs Hongjoong’s wrist to keep it pressed to his cheek. “I’ve stayed with you for four years now haven't I?”
“That doesn’t count,” Hongjoong stutters. He can only hope the heat he can feel starting to inch over his cheeks isn’t as visible as it feels. “Quit trying to butter me up when I already agreed to take you on vacation.”
Yunho’s tiny, “It doesn’t?” is drowned out by Mingi drumming his hands against the wood of the table and loudly exclaiming, “I want to go on vacation! Hongjoong, you should take me, too!”
Hongjoong laughs to cover his discomfort. "Give me a list of your mountain survival skills and I'll consider it."
"No!" Yunho interjects, loud and angry, before he's flushing red when all attention swivels in his direction. "I mean—it's our honeymoon. It's supposed to just be the two of us."
“Sounds like your hubby has spoken,” Yeosang cackles, “No threesomes in your future.”
“Ew,” Mingi deadpans and starts bickering with Yeosang for suggesting he’d be caught dead anywhere near Yunho or Hongjoong’s buttholes.
Hongjoong doesn’t hear much of any of it though, too focused on the way Yunho’s eyes flick around the room landing on anyone and anything that isn’t Hongjoong himself.
Huh.
They cut the cake, topped with, yes, sixteen different colors of penis, while Seonghwa takes pictures and Wooyoung balances his weight on Mingi’s shoulders to record everything from a high enough angle he can get the perfect shot of Hongjoong shoving red and yellow and blue dough nearly up Yunho’s nose as revenge for dragging him here. Yunho takes it like a champ, and must be feeling guilty since he delicately holds a piece to Hongjoong’s mouth for him to bite into without also rubbing the icing into his face. As much as he bitches about it, the party is fun. Someday, when Hongjoong gets married for real, he hopes he can be surrounded by the people he loves just like this to celebrate.
The group ends up going from the apartment to a bar Mingi apparently frequents considering when they walk in at least two women cheer, waving them over to their table with excited proclamations of, “Princess Mingi is here!”
Hongjoong mouths, “Princess?” at Yunho who only shrugs and drags him to one of the only open and relatively clean booths still up for grabs. Yunho keeps his arm tight around Hongjoong’s shoulder for some reason he can’t fathom—a possessive grip to his jacket that feels out of place from how they normally operate. Usually Yunho will cling for a few minutes while he works up a decent buzz and then he’ll fuck off to find someone willing to take him into their home and their bed for a few hours.
"Yunho! Have you shown Hongjoong the thing you can do with a cherry yet?" San half-yells over the loud thump of bass blasting from the surround system. He slides over his near empty Georgia sunrise for Yunho to grab his stemmed fruit. "Show us! Show us!"
Hongjoong takes a pull from his beer, a heavy stout that makes his whole body feel floaty after only a couple sips. "You doing cherry tricks now?"
Yunho accepts the cherry with a flourish, holding the fruit aloft to scrutinize it with one squinted eye like a museum curator examining a priceless artifact. "Only the one." He turns to Hongjoong with a confident smirk. "Watch."
And plops the entire thing into his mouth.
Hongjoong watches Yunho's jaw work for a few moments before he's sticking his tongue out with the stem tied into a semi-neat knot.
"Wow," He deadpans. "So cool. Such talent."
Yunho takes the knot from his tongue with a pout, wilting into Hongjoong's lap like a fainting maiden. "I thought husbands were supposed to be supportive."
"I do support you," Hongjoong coos and tickles the underside of Yunho's chin. "Just not cheap parlor tricks most people learn in high school when they're bored."
Seonghwa makes him buy the next round of drinks, even though it's Hongjoong's own 'bachelor party', as punishment for making Yunho fake cry into his shirt. The bartender is busy, a given on a Friday night like this, which means Hongjoong has to stay propped up against the counter longer than he generally prefers while a man in a really spectacularly awful knock-off Versace polyester shirt tries to make small talk.
"Come here often?" The man hiccups. He's swaying too close for Hongjoong's comfort, the waft of gin strong on his breath.
"Not really," Hongjoong answers with a cringing half-grin. "I'm actually here for a belated bachelor party."
The man feigns interest as he continues to lean into Hongjoong's space. "Yeah? Which one a you's is it?"
"Mine and my husband's," Hongjoong says in the hopes it makes the creep stop trying to talk him up.
"I don't see a ring on yer finger," the man says pointedly. "You're lyin'!"
"Nope. Complete truth."
Hongjoong casts a backward glance to the booth where his friends are all trading workplace gossip furtively across the table. Yunho is nowhere to be seen, either having gone to the bathroom or found someone else to gossip with for a while. He feels a pang at the thought even on his fake bachelor party Yunho is ready to run off with someone that catches his eye. He's really got to learn to stop taking Yunho's disinterest personal like this.
The man is still talking, sidling closer with each breath. Hongjoong vaguely wonders if he's going to have to get Jongho or San over here to make him go away. Too bad he'd left his phone at the table...
"Baby! There you are! I thought Seonghwa was getting the next round." Yunho lands a welcome kiss to his cheek and slides his palm into Hongjoong's back pocket. "Who's this?"
"Someone who was just leaving," the man says with obvious disgust.
Hongjoong watches him stomp away with a fluttering warmth in his throat. Oh. Oh, Yunho is—
Yunho is still here.
With him.
"Thanks." Hongjoong swallows around his feelings sitting like a thick lump in his throat. Yunho still hasn't removed his hand from his pocket. "I was about to give up waiting on our drinks to escape."
Yunho grunts. "I hate people like that. He should have taken a hint five minutes ago." He slides something stiff and wet along Hongjoong's pinky. "Also, I made you a ring while we were waiting. You're welcome."
The ring, if you could call it that, is actually a series of cherry stems all tied together in intermittent knots. All his feelings of goodwill curdle in his stomach. "Were these in your mouth just now?"
Yunho blinks innocently. "Maybe."
Ugh.
Jongho makes it a point to pull Hongjoong aside as Seonghwa and Yeosang pay their tab before they all go their separate ways and gives him an intense staredown backlit by the neon glow of the bar’s flashing open sign. “You know I was serious about my offer. After the divorce goes through I’d be more than happy to take you on a date.”
Hongjoong, shocked and a touch too buzzed for this conversation, can only garble out a thick, “Jongho—”
“I like you, Hongjoong,” Jongho says with an intensity he usually reserves for online games or singing at karaoke bars. “If Yunho can’t see how good he’s got it, then I’d be more than happy to give you the attention you deserve. Just. Think about it? Even if the answer is no, I just wanted you to know the offer wasn't a joke.”
“Sure,” Hongjoong agrees after a moment of gawping indecision. Jongho isn’t usually this forward, but maybe the alcohol is making him feel brave when otherwise he’d be content to sit on the sidelines and offer his silent support. Hongjoong has cried more than once on Jongho’s shoulders back when he was still under the impression Yunho would look at him one day and go ‘oh’. That they’d live happily ever after like some magical fairytale.
It didn’t happen back then. Hongjoong isn’t under any sort of impression it’s going to happen now.
But Jongho is good, and sweet, and gives amazing hugs. Hongjoong could do so much worse than a man with a steady job who likes him despite seeing Hongjoong run down the quad in nothing but a pair of boxers and some red suspenders the same night they'd traded tequila in a way that involved more tongue action than was strictly necessary.
He squeezes Jongho’s shoulder. “I’ll give you an answer soon. I promise.”
Jongho’s ears are blazing red, creeping across his face to settle across the bridge of his nose, and he nods, shoving his hands into his pockets and backing up down the sidewalk with a stuttered, “Okay,” and “see you next—uh—next week—bye!”
Hongjoong watches him power walk away with a smile and fondness settling in his chest.
Yunho has apparently decided to finally detach from Seonghwa and leans his chin against Hongjoong’s shoulder. “What was that about?”
“Just girl talk.” Hongjoong shifts until he can press his and Yunho’s cheeks together. “Nothing to worry about. Ready to go home?”
“I guess.” Yunho digs a cold hand into Hongjoong’s pocket to thread their fingers together probably in a bid to steal his warmth. He expects that to be the end of it, for Yunho to tug him down the street and lead the way home with maybe a stop at a street vendor’s stall for a late night greasy snack. He doesn’t expect—
“Was he confessing to you again?”
Hongjoong jolts, stumbling on nothing on the sidewalk, and would have gone face first into the cement if not for Yunho’s grip on his hand. “What?”
Yunho scowls fiercely at the sidewalk. “Nothing, nevermind. Let’s just go home and pack.”
They don’t speak for the entire trip home, but Yunho keeps their hands locked.
--------------
The trip up the mountain to their destination is scenic and beautiful. A scattering of light snow sits along the edges of the road. Yunho gasps dramatically when they see a deer standing between sparse trees before the forest thickens with overgrowth and vines. The tires slip once on a pack of hidden ice and Hongjoong worries they really will get stuck out here in the boonies if it snows too hard overnight. They’ve only got today and tonight, part of Sunday to enjoy a few hours of peace and quiet before they have to checkout and venture back into the real world.
And divorce, Hongjoong reminds himself with his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. It’s still painful to think about, but it’s a necessary evil. He and Yunho are many things to each other except for... that. He’d made sure to look up the necessary paperwork and have it printed out for their return so they could get this whole married business over with.
One fake honeymoon. One last weekend. Two days and one night and maybe Hongjoong will be ready to let Yunho go for good.
True to the receptionist's word, the crew in charge of getting the cabin ready for their stay have left bundles of roses in the center of the king sized bed, along the edges of the walk-in shower, propped on the kitchen island in clear glass vases with complimentary champagne chilling in ice buckets. Yunho holds up one bottle and whistles at the label.
“Dang, they’re giving us the good stuff. You sure we don’t have to pay for any of this?”
“I’m sure,” Hongjoong grunts, dragging their suitcase behind himself into the main area populated by a plush loveseat, a sectional, and a gas fireplace already sending a blaze of warmth into the room. “Called ahead to make sure we weren’t getting scammed but the front desk swears up and down they don’t need a credit card for our stay, so.”
True to the brochure, the jacuzzi is just as nice and bubbling and relaxing as it seems in the advertisement pictures. Hongjoong wastes exactly ten minutes after they get unpacked and set up with free wi-fi before stripping totally nude and sliding into the gently roiling water. This cabin is set apart from the rest on the mountain he figures it’s fine. If anyone has a hidden camera or some kind of surveillance set up pointed outside to the secluded balcony, then Hongjoong figures they can just enjoy the show. He’s not going to move from this spot for at least twelve to fifteen hours.
Yunho joins him a few minutes later clad in swim trunks.
“You’re actually wearing clothes for this?” Hongjoong yawns at him. “Wuss.”
His roommate gapes and acts as if Hongjoong hanging around in the nude in a jacuzzi was something completely scandalous.
Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Oh please, this is nothing you don't have or haven't seen before.” Because it’s not and it isn’t. They’d taken hurried showers together to save water countless times when the utility bills skyrocketed in the summer. Hongjoong lifts a foot out of the churning foamy bubbles to beckon him forward. “Get in, loser.”
Yunho dips a cautious toe in, still giving Hongjoong an embarrassed side eye. The jets hit him just right along his spine and Hongjoong groans long and low as his back muscles finally unclench from the tense ride up the icy slope. He slides down until his lips are just above the waterline, heat curling the tips of his bangs and making his cheeks pink from the warmth.
Yunho coughs. “You uh...having fun over there?”
“Mhm.” Hongjoong blinks slow. ''s relaxing.”
Yunho swishes some of the foam around, cheeks stained scarlet red. Hongjoong worries maybe this is too much heat all at once for Yunho to handle. Mingi takes Yunho along to the sauna all the time, but maybe the jacuzzi being outside in the cold is wreaking havoc on Yunho’s body temp and not in a good way.
“Glad that makes one of us.”
Hongjoong hums agreement and pushes his foot at Yunho's thigh beneath the surface, biting back a giggle when Yunho squeaks and tries to shift away from his toes. “You do kinda look like you're about to overheat though.”
“I'm fine.”
“Are you really going to chance it and leave your poor, sweet husband a widow?” Hongjoong tuts and closes his eyes again. “Though I guess Jongho will be happy I’m available at least.”
“Stop talking about Jongho.”
Hongjoong peeks an eye open just a crack to see Yunho scowling fiercely at the water. “Jealous?”
“Yes,” Yunho bites out. “Very.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hongjoong tries to reassure him. “I’m not going to leave you all alone if I actually decide to date Jongho. Or anyone else for that matter.”
Yunho’s eyebrows furrow at the statement and stays silent, mouth pulled down at the edges in displeasure. Hongjoong tries to make him stop pouting by kicking at his legs hoping it will draw out a smile. Yunho catches his foot when Hongjoong nudges at his knees, holding it higher and higher out of the water until Hongjoong begs mercy from the stretch and the sudden icy chill of the mountain air making his skin pebble.
They walk a couple of trails after a lunch of some pasta dish Yunho whips up from ingredients pulled from the fully stocked fridge. When they come back just before it gets dark, Hongjoong pulls up his aging music program on his laptop and tries to do some composition like he hasn’t done in years while the inspiration hits. Being out here in nature far away from the hustle and bustle of city life gives him time to clear his mind, lyrics and notes flowing together in his mind’s eye like they haven’t done since…
Since the first time Yunho left for a date, if Hongjoong is honest with himself.
He bitterly considers the notion the inspiration is going to leave him again as soon as they get home and put a whole kibosh on the marriage thing.
Yunho is watching him with fond eyes from the opposite end of the sectional.
“What?”
“Nothing in particular." Yunho smiles wide open. "Just really happy of all the people I could have ended up married to that it's you.”
Hongjoong laughs it off. "Because I'm easy to bully." Because I’m so into you it’s pathetic, Hongjoong keeps to himself.
Yunho shakes his head in quick denial. "Because you're my Hongjoong and I love you."
That same phrase again and it still makes about as much sense as the first time he’d said it. Hongjoong decides not to dwell, it’s probably just something Yunho heard in a drama and latched onto because the idea was cute. Yunho has always been a sucker for cute things, not that Hongjoong is any better...considering.
“Don't be gross,” Hongjoong says, smushing his foot at Yunho's nose. Yunho laughs and clamps tight to his ankle to tickle long fingers along Hongjoong's arch until he's howling laughter and trying to wriggle himself free to no avail.
Yunho finally releases him when Hongjoong has tears beading up along his eyelashes and his stomach hurts from laughing so hard. His laptop lays forgotten on the floor while he catches his breath.
“Do you remember the day we met?” Yunho asks out of nowhere. He’s shifted so that he can pull Hongjoong’s legs into his lap to massage the clench of his leg muscles.
“You mean the day you thought I was ginger and tried to English at me?” Hongjoong smirks. “How could I ever forget?”
It was a story that never got old, not that Hongjoong had many opportunities to tell it since their friend group had either been there or heard it three times over after the fact. They met in a supplementary English course back when Hongjoong still experimented with his hair and showed up to class with a faded orange-red ‘do and a shitton of blush Seonghwa decided would look the best with it. And freckles. And blue contact lenses because why not.
Yunho had rushed in at the last possible second, found the only empty seat next to him, and stuttered out a horribly mangled, “You? Seat? Uh—” He’d mimed patting at the desk in front of the empty chair. “Open?”
“Dude, I speak Korean,” Hongjoong had told him. “No wonder you’re in this class. That was terrible.”
“Oh my god, I know.” Yunho had laughed back then, embarrassed and shy and so red he was nearly purple with it. “Sorry, I thought—your hair and everything I assumed you were a foreigner.”
That class had been the start of their friendship. After twin failing grades and middling scores on extra credit, they’d spent more time together studying and practicing together than anyone else Hongjoong had ever been around. San said they were attached at the hip. Jongho joked they were going to turn into the same person. Seonghwa and Yeosang were adamant there was more to it that Hongjoong and Yunho just weren’t telling them.
‘More’ never happened though.
Hongjoong’s amusement at the memory dims a bit. ‘More’ wasn’t going to happen, either.
Yunho clears his throat. “So, I thought, you know what would be fun on a honeymoon?”
“Not honeymoon,” Hongjoong corrects for his own benefit if nothing else.
“Whatever,” Yunho grumps. He gets up briefly to root around in his overnight case, pulling out the familiar black plastic shopping bag he’d tried to hide the other night. “How do you feel about dyeing our hair again?”
“You’re going to give up the bleach head?” Hongjoong gasps dramatically and clutches at his chest where his heart is honest to god already starting to skip beats at the visual. “Don’t tell me black haired Yunho is about to make his triumphant return!”
“Very cute.” Yunho waggles the boxes of red and black respectively. “You wanna?”
Technically their office job doesn’t allow for dyed hair, but Hongjoong assumes this is just the washable kind of dye he could spend a few hours rinsing out if he really needed to. Yunho is smart enough to know not to jeopardize paying their rent by putting the company dress code on blast.
Hongjoong grabs the red dye for himself. “Sure.”
Somehow, in the years since he’s known Yunho, he’d forgotten what exactly Yunho with dark inky hair did to his blood pressure. Nothing good, that’s for sure. Once they’d sat with plastic caps on for an hour, eaten dinner, and rinsed the excess out, Hongjoong blow dries Yunho’s hair and remembers exactly how whipped he’d been over Yunho. The dark hair brings out the natural pink in Yunho’s cheeks. It makes him appear younger, soft in ways he didn’t expect and yet…
Hongjoong stares transfixed at Yunho smiling at him through the bathroom mirror.
“Do I look okay?”
“You look beautiful,” falls out of Hongjoong’s mouth before he can stop himself, and he swallows hard at the admission, hands shaking. That was too much. That was way over the line and Yunho is going to figure him out in a hot second.
Yunho leans his head back to smile softer still up at him. “Thank you.” His long fingers tenderly touch the edge of Hongjoong’s bangs where they fall over his eyes. “You too. You’re gorgeous, Hongjoong.”
“Sap.” Hongjoong accuses.
Yunho shakes his head and gets up from the chair they’d transplanted from the kitchen as a makeshift vanity stool. “Just telling the truth.” He drops an affectionate closed mouth kiss to Hongjoong’s forehead on his way to the bedroom.
“Love you!” Yunho calls back.
"You too," Hongjoong whispers. His face is red in the mirror. His skin tingles where Yunho's mouth connected, a faint buzzing like radio static just beneath the surface. A fake honeymoon with a fake husband who just wants to enjoy being married for a few days. Hongjoong leans over the sink to splash water in his face. The domesticity wasn't meant for him.
This is just practice.
--------------
It doesn't feel like practice when Hongjoong wakes up the next morning to Yunho's arm flung over his face, Yunho's body a long line of heat along his side, Yunho's wet snoring reverberating in his ears, and Hongjoong's first thought isn't 'gross' or 'get off me'. Hongjoong's first thought catches him off guard and tender through: I want this forever. Even the bad parts like morning breath and the drying line of drool across Yunho's cheek.
It doesn't feel like practice when Yunho snorts himself awake some nebulous amount of time later, smiles sweetly at him, and rolls closer into Hongjoong's side with a throaty, "Mornin'."
"Good morning," Hongjoong says helpless and hopelessly in love with someone he shouldn't be. "Have a happy honeymoon?"
"The best." Yunho grumbles something unintelligible into Hongjoong's neck as he stretches his arms up and over Hongjoong's chest before dropping back into hazy dreamland.
--------------
Yunho taps his pen nervously on the paperwork a few hours after they return home. The shared suitcase is still standing upright in the hallway where Hongjoong had left it in favor of rushing to grab the printouts and shove them into Yunho's hands.
“Divorce.”
“Technically it’s just an annulment since we caught it in time.” Hongjoong stares blankly at the ceiling where he's splayed out in Yunho's bed and is very proud that his voice comes out smooth instead of croaking and sad like he feels. “Another week and we’d be doing this in court.”
Yunho’s pen continues to tap at the stack. Hongjoong continues not to look at him. They stay not looking at one another while Yunho places the first scratchy line of his name to the form.
Hongjoong rolls his lips between his teeth to keep his mouth from trembling while a vice like sensation grips around his heart. It was a drunken mistake, that’s all this was. They were fixing their drunken mistake and everything would go back to business as usual. He would forget what it was like to be attached so intimately to Yunho, Yunho would go back to disappearing every other night to get laid, they’d go back to their boring office jobs and drink stale coffee with coworkers they only tolerated for the steady paychecks and never speak of this misadventure again.
It’s fine.
This is fine.
Hongjoong will learn to be alright pining after his best friend and roommate, and maybe someday down the line he’ll learn how to let him go without also buying up an entire pallet of cringe worthy head wear.
The scrape of pen and paper stops almost as soon as it starts.
“Okay, fuck this,” Yunho says and flings the papers hard against the wall of his room.
Hongjoong startles, sitting upright so he can boggle at Yunho scowling fiercely at the papers fluttering to the floor. “Yunho, what—”
“Do you seriously not want to be married to me? Ever?”
Hongjoong very nearly swallows his tongue. “I—”
“Because I do. I do want to be married to you, and maybe this is incredibly goddamn backwards to say this now after everything, but I’ve loved you for so long—for six fucking years—and I just, I thought,” Yunho flails his arms wildly and says, with emphasis, “The cabin?”
“The not honeymoon?” Hongjoong breathes, barely, and feels his hands begin to quake. “Hold on, did you say six years?”
“You’re the one who kept calling it the not honeymoon,” Yunho says desperately. He strides forward until he can touch the denim covering Hongjoong’s knees and crouches until they’re eye level. “I told you I love you yesterday and you haven't even said anything back.”
“As a friend,” Hongjoong corrects. He has to grab at Yunho’s arms to keep him in place when Yunho winces and makes like he’s going to shift away. “You said I love you as a friend, Yunho.”
“I said I love you because you’re my Hongjoong,” Yunho says back, but he doesn’t move away, and stays crouching awkwardly between Hongjoong's legs with his face turning blotchier by the second. "I didn't know how else to phrase it."
"You keep—Yunho, you keep saying that, but I have no idea what it means." Hongjoong takes a deep breath into his lungs hoping it will help settle his nerves because what the fucking fuck is this conversation. What is happening?
Yunho chews at his bottom lip and thumbs over the ripped place on Hongjoong's jeans. "It means...it just means you're more than anyone else. To me. You're more than my roommate or my best friend. You take care of me and I like taking care of you when you let me, I want to. If you hurt, I hurt. If you cry, I want to fucking bawl my eyes out." Yunho licks at his lips and whispers a hoarse, "I wake up knowing your face is the first one I'm going to see and it makes me happy—you make me happy just by existing, even when you're mad at me for not doing the dishes or you're grumpy because I woke you up too early when I come home. Part of me has always taken that for granted and I'm sorry."
Hongjoong swallows around a lump in his throat. "You—"
Yunho shakes his head. "This whole week has been a wake up call, hyung. I can't go on pretending you're not the most important person in my life and trying to fill that void with hookups I don't even care about." Yunho drops his head to Hongjoong's thigh with his back hunched. "I love you. I'm in love with you and I don't want to get divorced. I really, really, really don't."
There have been two torches this entire time. Somehow, like ships passing in the night, they’d missed each other and missed each other and kept missing each other, until they ended up here with Yunho trying to quiet his pitiful sniffling cries into Hongjoong’s knees. They were both idiots. Hongjoong finally allows himself to brush at the frazzled tangle of hair over the crown of Yunho’s head where he’d run through it too many times out of frustration, and doesn’t bother hiding his smile.
“So let’s not.”
Yunho freezes for an instant before his head jerks up, face flushed red with his eyes wide and hopeful. "Hongjoong?"
"Let's stay married, because I've been in love with you since you made a fool of yourself in that supplementary English course we took god knows how many years ago." Yunho's face is a wide open field of wonder. Hongjoong traces his fingers over the dimpled skin of Yunho's cheek and basks in the familiarity of the motion, as if it's something he's done a thousand times and only just now appreciating. It feels like home. "I do have one condition though."
"Anything," Yunho breathes. "Name it."
"You owe me an actual ring, not a ringpop you got out of a gumball machine and not a cherry stem you tied with your mouth. Got it?"
Yunho nods, a jerking stilted motion as if he's still working through the reality of the situation.
Hongjoong holds up a hand before Yunho can say anything else. "Actually, I have two conditions."
"I'm not going to let Seonghwa buy you a stripper cake I swear."
"Not that," Hongjoong grimaces. "Okay, maybe that too, but I want something else."
Yunho nods frantically, shifting to put more of his weight against Hongjoong's thighs like he needs the extra support. Not that Hongjoong blames him, god only knows Hongjoong feels as if he's going to go crashing to the floor if he even thinks of trying to stand up on his shaking legs. The line of Yunho's shoulders are sturdy though, and Hongjoong braces his palms against them, fisting the material of Yunho's shirt and tugging him upwards like a demand.
"I hear when you get married you're supposed to kiss or somethin'." Hongjoong smiles, giddy. "I want one."
They'll have to talk about this arrangement like adults later, because going from pining idiots to married within the span of a week probably isn't good or sane or healthy. They're going to have to tell their parents, their friends, admit to the world how right everyone else had been this entire time and pay Yeosang his due. But they've got time for all of that later, when Yunho's mouth isn't pressed sweetly against Hongjoong's own and their hands aren't tangled up in each other's shirts as if they're each afraid one of them is going to disappear or take it back.
'Til death do us part, Hongjoong thinks. And maybe a little bit after.
--------------
Four drinks in on a Tuesday afternoon when they have nothing to do and nowhere to be, Yunho buys a ringpop and another case of hard liquor to steel his nerves.
"He~y, Hongjoong-ah," he coos into his roommate's neck where he's splayed out half-drunk on their couch. "You wanna—you wanna get hitched?"
Hongjoong blinks at him off-kilter. "Ah?"
"Hitched. Married. Tie the knot, uh—" Yunho thinks hard through the inebriation for other words to describe what he wants. What he's desperately wanted for years now. "Bond?"
"Oh." Hongjoong sits upright. "Like for real?"
"Yeah."
"Alright."
"Yeah?" Yunho feels like a broken record, hands shaking when he pulls out the crinkled package of the ringpop to get on one knee for his—his Hongjoong who is the love of his damn life. "Cool because I already bought you a ring."
"That's a piece of candy," Hongjoong informs him with a giggle, but holds his hand out expectantly anyway. Yunho slides the plastic ring onto his hand on the third try when Hongjoong's fingers finally stopped replicating themselves. Not that he'd mind extra Hongjoong fingers, Yunho supposed, they were all super cute and more was generally, like, more. So.
Yunho tugs at his sleeve. "Let's go sign the papers now."
"Right now?"
"Yes," Yunho says vehemently. "I love you a lot and I'm not going to let you change your mind. Let's go, let's go, let's go!"
"Good because I love you a lot too." Hongjoong laughs again and allows himself to be dragged to their door. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. No takebacks, right?"
"No takebacks," Yunho agrees with as much sincerity as he can muster with his words all jumbled up in his brain. "This is for keeps."
"For keeps," Hongjoong breathes. "Wait, should we kiss first?"
"No time!" Yunho pulls and pulls and drags Hongjoong into the harsh daylight of a Tuesday afternoon. Maybe they can buy another round of soju on the way home for the honeymoon. And a cake!