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“I think coming to terms with the fact that he never felt what I felt was hard. Memories that meant the world to me were just another day for him. I don’t love loud and maybe, my voice drowned in the noise around him and I faded into the back.”
“Sounds like you liked him a lot.”
“I did. He was easy to love.”
“So this album is dedicated to your first love, now Woozi-ssi…”
It was odd to think that Jihoon could be so romantic because, in Chan’s memory, he stood unmovable and stern, almost like a mountain. Now, the picture is changing and the huge mountain seems to be more like a worn-out beloved path, leading to a garden of flowers.
The interview was going viral and along with it, his newest album. It was bittersweet and when Chan first listened to it, it sounded more like unsaid words than a song, a hidden confession to the one he liked with words in the open that could only be understood by them.
“Did Jihoon hyung ever teach anyone how to play the guitar back in college?” Chan asks first, to Soonyoung because he always answers Chan without asking why, without digging too deep, always happy to help.
Soonyoung, sweaty and sweet, collapsed on the wooden floor of their dance studio, answers without missing a beat, ready for Chan, “I don’t think so, he never said anything like that to me. Did you ask because of the album?”
Everything now was related to the album, a lovely trap laid out for Chan’s curiosity, “Yeah, just wondering. It’s very romantic.”
“You surprised?”
Chan nods, “You aren’t?”
Soonyoung tilts his body towards him, and when their eyes meet, there’s no haze and the thudding of Chan’s heart is suddenly louder in his ears. “Not really, he’s always been like that.”
‘Always.’
The answer sounds like a simple fact and maybe that’s what it means to be best friends, because Soonyoung knows Jihoon, the kind of familiarity that comes with time, almost like remembering a dream without effort, everything already placed perfectly in the depths of your memory.
“I guess I don’t know him that well,” is what Chan offers. A mountain that was more of a river, overflowing and constantly moving.
“But I should ask him who it is, he didn’t even tell me! Can you believe it?” Soonyoung whines and Chan gives a small laugh, mentally preparing to hear him rant for the next few hours.
“I don’t think he’d tell yo—”
“You’re underestimating how annoying I can be.” Soonyoung gives him a sweet grin, and it shapes his face into happiness. Bright and clingy and brimming with affection. If Jihoon tells him, it won’t be because of annoyance but Chan doesn’t voice that.
And then he remembers the line. ‘Strumming away the worries with my hand in yours, the strings singing, you were my youth.’ Somehow, that particular lyric stuck to him.
“Oh right, have you seen the album cover?” Soonyoung moves, tilts his body and then he’s leaning over Chan, the sweet grin now a little too close to a sly smirk. “It looks like you!”
Of course, Chan had seen it. Not because he brought the album but because Seungkwan did and shoved it in his face with a questioning look, asking if he had a secret fling with Jihoon during their weekly brunch.
The similarity was uncanny— Chan's college-era honey-brown hair, the familiar scar from a bike mishap across his neck, and an overall vibe. It might have seemed like a coincidence until he noticed the eyes— the same shape, colour, and tiny wrinkles and they only feature present on the man painted on the album and yet, still, it looked like him.
But Chan doesn't think it could be. They barely interacted and he can't remember any significant moments between them. Jihoon couldn’t possibly love Chan enough to write a song.
“Hey Chan-ah, who do you think Jihoon-ah helped? With the guitar?” The soft voice beside him broke him from the trance.
The answer is already on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't say it. “No idea.”
If Jihoon had helped anyone else with the guitar, other than Chan, he isn’t aware of it.
“Oh hyung, here,” It's a hot day, the sun beating down with yellowed rays and scorching heat. Sweat is pooling across his back, his shirt sticking to him like a second skin. “I got an extra in the vending machine! You can have it, I know you like coke.”
Jihoon only glances at him, their eyes meeting for a fraction of a second before dropping to the red can in his outstretched hands. He takes it, their fingers brushing slightly as Chan plops himself next to him, the grass tickling his palm.
“Did you wear suncream?” His voice is gruff, and the words are spoken to the coke can rather than Chan’s face, a little dry but that's normal for Jihoon. “I have some.”
Chan gives him a small grin, though he doubts the older man sees it, “I put some on already, I’m just red 'cause I ran away from Seungkwan hyung.”
There's only a hum in response, a small acknowledgement that his words are heard. Jihoon’s attention floats between the coke and the guitar on his lap. Maybe the heat is making Chan bold because he lifts a finger and gently plucks a string, watching it vibrate as a dull note plays out.
“I’ve always wanted to learn,” Chan confesses, a childhood wish re-emerging every time he sees Jihoon, without fail. “Hyung always looks so cool when he plays, I want to look like that too.” Another childish confession under the sun, with only Jihoon as a witness.
There’s no answer for a few seconds, so Chan turns his attention to the cold drink in his hand, raising it to take a long sip, making it so that he can’t speak even if he wants to. Chan sees Jihoon as someone who finds music in stillness, enjoying melodies in quiet moments, a person who loves noise only when it comes from his headphones, not the world. Chan hates the quiet, needing words or laughs or hums to fill the space. Opposite of Jihoon, in some sense.
Mid-gulp, Jihoon takes up all the space with quiet words. “I can teach you.”
The words are almost drowned out beneath the scorching sun, swallowed by the cacophony of voices from other students chattering away, laughter ringing in the air, and the distant hum of cars passing by. Almost lost.
“Wait, hyung really?” Chan perks up immediately, slightly leaning forward, trying to catch Jihoon’s gaze. And he does catch it, just for a sparse few seconds before Jihoon looks away. Chan thinks eye contact might be difficult for him. “Don’t tease me, hyung, I—”
“I wouldn’t tease you. I’m offering. I can only do Wednesday and Friday afternoons and the weekends—”
The heat must’ve really gotten to his brain because Chan leaps to hug him. The execution is awkward, with a guitar in between and 2 open cans, but Chan does it regardless, hands open to clutch his shoulders and press his face against Jihoon’s neck, nose touching his warm skin. He isn’t pushed off, which is a good sign, and before he can pull away, a small hand gently taps his back, smoothing over his spine. Jihoon smells citrusy and clean, a faint smell that’s barely recognizable under the afternoon air.
“You’re sweaty,” Jihoon mumbles it out like a wheeze, pulling a delighted laugh out of Chan.
“Hyung, I’ll take you up on that offer!”
A beat of silence before, “I’m free now if you wan—”
Chan's initial plan is to grab a meal, maybe try out that new sandwich place with Hansol. However, the reddish tint on Jihoon's neck and ears, coupled with the nervous fidgeting of his fingers, makes Chan hesitate. "Are you sure, hyung?" For a shy guy, he has the guts to ask Chan first.
Jihoon nods, a few strands of hair falling across his face.
"Alright, but I’ll buy you dinner afterwards!"
Another nod from Jihoon. With deliberate movements, he picks up and adjusts the guitar, lifting his head. In the sunlight, his brown eyes resemble honey to Chan. "These are the basic chords..."
The lessons aren’t long, an hour at most, but Chan goes to him when he can, and by the time Jihoon has to leave, he’s gotten several ‘good jobs’ from Jihoon, so it’s well worth it.
“Keep playing, don’t slack off.” Jihoon leaves him with that.
“Chan-ah, can you play the guitar?” Soonyoung asks, getting up fully to stretch his sore muscles.
From Jihoon's teaching sessions, Chan could only remember the calm way he talked about finger placements, a soothing rhythm. His eyes often landed on Jihoon's hands, long and attractive— the kind that catches attention. But when it came to the actual chords and techniques, Chan couldn't retain much. The details slipped away like they were never there.
He didn't make an effort to hold onto the memory because it was just something they did for fun, a casual time pass between friends. Chan had never held tight when it came to Jihoon, not like he did with Seungkwan and Soonyoung. At one juncture in life, they were simply destined to be friends— a connection not intended to linger when the backdrop of life shifted.
He gets up too, despite the protest from his muscles, “No, I never had the time.”
There’s a hum and before Chan can excuse himself from practice, Soonyoung turns to him, smile still on his face, “Hey, you’re coming to the get-together tomorrow right? I heard Seungcheol hyung is coming too.”
Chan pauses, “Would Jihoon hyung mind? I haven’t seen him in ages and we don’t text—”
“Jihoon-ah never cares about stuff like that and he likes you. Just come, it’s free food.”
That does sound tempting, so much so that Chan gives a stiff nod, “Yeah, sure.”
And that ends the conversation. In comfortable silence, with only the squeaks of their shoes and the movement of their hands, they pack up and clean up, diligently because these floors are the product of their dreams, a true manifestation.
As they prepare to go their separate ways, with Soonyoung heading to his car and Chan down the street, it's only then that Chan finds his voice. "I want to get Jihoon hyung a gift. What does he like?"
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to. I know that he likes coke but that doesn’t sound very fancy,” Chan had never again met anyone else who drank that much coke. Only Jihoon. ‘I also don’t know anything else about him. Just coke and guitar and music and you, his best friend.’
Soonyoung lights up, “Actually, coke is his favourite! You should get him a big family pack, he’ll love it! But make sure it’s diet, he’s like…really into gym and healthy stuff now.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Love, not like, something he favoured above all other drinks. “But thanks hyung.”
With a brief wave, Soonyoung walks off, leaving Chan with the knowledge that Jihoon has always been a romantic and fond of coke.
Not a grand mountain but something smaller, yet still radiating with pride. The mental image transforms into a grassy hill that, come springtime, is filled with a vibrant chaos of flowers in various blooms and sizes. A hill people would visit through all four seasons because it had the best view of the sunsets.
Chan buys a family diet Coke pack on his way back home and when he gets home, he can’t help but open his kakao talk and type out ‘Jihoon hyung’ wanting to see what his profile picture is. Back when they texted once a week, it had been his studio. Now, it was the cover of his newest album, the man who looked like him.
A warm, affectionate smile spreads across Chan's face, flooded with a mix of emotions. Chan may not have known Jihoon but he does know. To his passion, Jihoon has always poured his soul like an endless well and it seems bigger than just a profile picture. They had always been similar in that aspect.
With a lighter heart, Chan types out what he wanted to say since he heard his song was trending top, the whole album being a big hit.
Congrats on the album! I’m always cheering you on ^^ I really like ‘The Sun-kissed You’
He goes to sleep thinking about a brown guitar covered in small scratches, loved and used, marked by the wear and tear of countless memories.
***
The party is at Jihoon's place, and the first person Chan spots is Seungkwan. No questions asked, just a small hug and a welcome. The place isn't too crowded, and, to Chan's surprise, he knows everyone, old college friends and friends of friends. It makes things easy for him because tonight, he's not up for socialising with strangers.
Jihoon is still out of sight, but there's Seungcheol, larger with shorter hair, his sweet smile and gentle doe eyes remaining unchanged. When they hug, it feels as if no time has passed since college, and suddenly, Chan is 21 at a frat party, downing vodka shots.
"Yah, you always text Soonyoung-ah but never me!" Seungcheol's voice is muffled as he buries his face in Chan's shoulder. "Chan-ah, hyung missed you a lot, even though you're a shitty dongsaeng."
"Hyung, we literally went to get lunch three weeks ago—"
Before he can finish, the hug morphs into a tight squeeze and the words escape his body, floating away like his soul.
Chan gulps in air, exaggerating the action when he’s free and Seungcheol laughs, keeping his hands on Chan’s shoulders to steady himself. Really, Seungcheol always loved it when Chan played along with him, a little—
“Chan-ah?”
He's not prepared for that voice, deep and still as soothing as that sunny day. Chan isn't ready, but he turns his body, and his eyes meet Jihoon's, a warm, comforting brown that holds a hint of sweetness. What do you say to someone with whom you once shared dreams, pledged to be there for every step? What can he say to Jihoon, who now appears like a stranger, having grown beyond his grasp?
Still shorter than Chan, yet bigger, shoulders broader than his own. The shirt hugs Jihoon's figure, exposing muscles beneath hair that's longer than ever, wispy across his face and falling down to his shoulders, still black. Chan realises he doesn't know this person anymore.
Then Chan notices it—a red can in Jihoon's hand, the colour vivid against the backdrop of a black shirt. In college, Jihoon always wears black, and that's what urges Chan forward, his legs moving fast across the room until he hugs him.
"Hyung," Chan whispers into Jihoon's hair. The scent is familiar, still what he knows, clean laundry, citrusy and subtle. He buries his face deeper, now fully in the crook of Jihoon's neck. "You still smell the same."
Jihoon is frozen beneath him, rigid and cold, like a block of ice. Chan's hand doesn't get the chance to fully embrace his shoulders and back; he pulls away just as quickly. "Sorry, I got too excited!"
He takes a few steps back, but then there's a hand on his shirt, holding him in place. Jihoon looks up at him, eyes unwavering. Now, Chan's the one wanting to look away, but that would be rude, so he gives a small smile. Jihoon continues to gaze, and beneath Chan, his eyes look black, pupils blown.
"You came," Jihoon says, not letting go of Chan's shirt. The fabric is stretching, uncomfortably so, and Chan likes this shirt so he steps closer to Jihoon, but not too much. No one would appreciate a familiar stranger in their space but Jihoon is still near and still has his hand on Chan. “You look the same.”
“My hair is black now hyung, did you forget—”
“You had brown hair, I know. You’re still…you act the same,” there was a pause mid-sentence but Chan didn’t think about it too closely and went to hug Jihoon again. This time, it was returned and large hands splayed across his shoulders and back. “Thanks for coming.”
Chan just gives a small hum. When they pull away, he points at the table and Jihoon turns to look, missing his grin, “I got you coke! Congrats on the album!”
His heart warms when Jihoon directs a smile at him, a small but incredibly warm smile, “Have you eaten?”
Chan shakes his head, “Not yet, but I'll eat later, I want to talk to you now.”
“No. Go eat, there’s food on the table there.”
How could Chan eat now? There’s way too much to unpack and Jihoon is right in front of—
“There’s fried squid. You love those right?”
Chan does love fried squid and Jihoon knows, “You remembered?”
With a light scoff, Jihoon rolled his eyes, “You ordered it every time we went out before. Hard to forget.”
Something ugly forms and lodges in his throat because Chan doesn’t know what Jihoon ordered. They didn’t even go out much and yet, Jihoon knows and maybe that’s what it means to be a hyung, to care for someone younger. Still, the guilt is bitter, and he gets why Seungkwan calls him childish.
His silence nestled into the quiet like a seed. A slight panic settled between his ribs, and he tried to free himself. "Oh. Right."
"Chan-ah,"
It’s a soft whisper, almost a sinful plea.
"I’ll be here when you come back. We’ll talk later."
That's the echo of their parting words last time too, the same promise Jihoon made to Chan before their weekly texts became monthly and then entirely stopped.
“Yeah, sure. I'll go eat then.”
Jihoon nods, signalling Chan to step away. A burning sensation persists on his nape, a clawing presence across his back, as if something is trying to tear him open, expose his heart, and stain the floor beneath him like paint.
Chan bears it, and it's only when he bites into the food heaped on his plate that the sensation fades away. Breathing becomes a bit easier.
The food manages to uplift his mood and he goes around talking to everyone, sticking close to Soonyoung who seemed very pleased to see Chan had brought his recommended gift. It was fun, watching everyone come together, with Jihoon’s voice softly playing in the back from the speakers.
“Ah, hyung!” Chan called out first, and Minghao turned almost immediately, a gentle smile playing on his face as he watched Chan walk over with his own grin.
“Chan-ah, I didn’t know you’d be coming,” Minghao's voice rumbled in a low tone, all attention on Chan.
“I wanted to show my support, so I dropped by—but hyung, you said you’d take me out for hotpot a month ago, and you still haven’t,” Chan pouted, extending his hand to grip Minghao's, who held onto him with fondness.
Minghao let out a small sigh. This close, Chan could see the small dark circles under his eyes, a deepened shade resembling darkened tea. “Wait, are you okay?”
“Just work. I just finished a huge deadline.”
It had almost slipped Chan’s mind, and now in Jihoon’s apartment, the thought came back in full force. “Hyung, you painted the album cover, right? I heard you did it in three days.”
The expression on Minghao's face blends with the subdued yellow lighting, lending his features a somewhat closed-off appearance. “Seungkwan-ah told you? Yeah, I had to move around a few deadlines and my schedule was a little packed. Don’t worry though, it’s back to normal now.”
In the sea of questions, one stood out at the forefront: 'Did you picture my face when you placed your brush on the canvas?’
Instead, he says, “Jihoon hyung is lucky you’re so nice. It’s a beautiful painting hyung.”
Hearing that, Minghao looks at him, and this time, it’s a hard gaze, as if Chan's wings, if he had any, were held in pins like a dead butterfly. "What was beautiful about it?"
That’s a question Hansol was better suited at answering, not Chan, who didn’t have art in his heart or mind. He fumbles in his mind for an answer, all the while Minghao looks on.
"The colours are nice, and the composition is, uh, lovely—"
"No, don’t tell me what you saw, tell me what you felt." There’s something hidden there but Chan couldn’t pick out Minghao’s truth from the murky words.
If it had been Seungkwan or Soonyoung or Hansol or maybe even Seungcheol, Chan might’ve pulled his heart out, a compass already pointing at what would’ve been right to say. With Minghao, he was lost in a dense fog.
‘I thought you painted me. I thought you made a mistake.’
It feels like Minghao wants Chan to say something specific, but he doesn’t fully grasp the man before him— tall and pretty, so enamoured with art. Minghao paints with his hands, and Chan dances with his feet.
Still, a thought forms. “I felt that Jihoon hyung is a romantic,” a half-lie because it wasn’t his initial thought, but rather, the second. “I felt that maybe he’s different from what I already fixed him to be.”
Minghao’s eyes widen just a fraction and Chan wonders if the answer given was unexpected. “What did you think of him before?”
“Mountain?”
The laugh that Minghao lets out ripples like bells and makes Chan smile as well, a little helpless, “Stop teasing me, I’m being serious here.”
“You said it without hesitation,” Minghao is still giggling, his frame shifting under the vibrations. Chan’s only response was shovelling more food into his mouth, trying to halt either whining or pouting. “But I suppose people who don’t know him would say mountain.”
Minghao turns, and Chan feels the urge to follow his gaze. He sees how it's fixed on Jihoon on the other side of the room, talking to Mingyu, a small smile still on his face. Chan lets out a little cough, attempting to dislodge the flavourless food. “Chan-ah, what do you think of him now?”
Something about Minghao’s tone was soft, a familiar decibel in the way the words flowed from his lips. It’s the same tone Chan hears Seungkwan use on him when he figures something out, a subtle hint that what Chan’s doing is right.
“A hill with flowers,” Chan utters, directing his words more toward Jihoon across the hall than to Minghao next to him. Minghao doesn’t seem to notice or care, he just gives Chan a curt nod and then his smile slips into something Chan is more familiar with.
“Hyung will take you out for hotpot soon, just let me know when you’re free.” Minghao is done talking about Jihoon.
“Sure hyung.”
The party unfolded as expected, with Chan melting in and out of conversations. The main concern was that it was getting late, and Chan still hadn't talked to Jihoon. Every attempt was unsuccessful, with Jihoon either gone or engrossed in conversations with others, and Chan didn't have the guts to interrupt.
The feeling of being watched came and went, especially when he sat alone in a corner, needing moments to collect himself. However, he didn't dare to look, not wanting to discover what he might find if he did. Mountain to hill. Could it change more?
And then Seungkwan got drunk. Chan saw it coming from a mile with the way he was egging Mingyu on and Mingyu could outdrink everyone and anyone and now Chan was stuck with an octopus of a man clinging to him radiating too much heat.
“You're going to regret this tomorrow,” Chan places his hand on Seungkwan’s waist, preventing him from toppling over Soonyoung, who is also a little past tipsy. He’s stuck with two octopuses.
He almost cries in relief when Mingyu drops by and easily, gently hauls Seungkwan onto the sofa, nodding along to whatever rambling he is saying. At the moment, it was about how stupid Chan is. Drunk or not, Chan never lets Seungkwan off easy. “I don’t want to hear that from you. You ate dog food last week thinking—”
“Yeah, but you’re stupid—”
“Hyung, really, you ate dog food and you kept going until I told you!”
Seungkwan turns to look at him but doesn’t reach out because Mingyu is still holding him, “You’re so fucking stupid, you’re arguing with a drunk man.”
It’s a very good point, one Chan will not admit and before he can steer the subject back to dog food, there’s a brush of another figure across his left shoulder and Jihoon is there, holding a bottle of water. Soonyoung perks up from the other side, giving Jihoon a dopey smile and Chan finds it a little cute.
He’s so close that their shoulders are in constant contact. Chan doesn’t move because Jihoon isn’t. The touch is faint but it seems to press other thoughts out of the mind unwillingly.
“You’re drunk.” Jihoon hands Mingyu the bottle because they all know drunk Seungkwan thinks he’s sober Seungkwan and refuses to drink unless it’s Jeonghan asking. Jeonghan was in the bathroom taking care of a drunk Seokmin so he’s out of commission so the next best thing is Mingyu slowly feeding him. Soonyoung though obediently takes one and Chan watches him gulp down a few mouthfuls.
A loud groan followed by the roll of Seungkwan’s eyes, “And Chan’s stupid.”
He’s going to kill Seungkwan, but before he can even let out a sound of protest, Seungkwan turns to Jihoon, face painfully serious, “Hyung what do you think Chan is? Stupid right?”
The panic that runs through his body is numbing, but the awkward silence that settles is so much worse. Mingyu’s trying not to laugh and from this angle, Chan can’t see Jihoon’s face, can’t imagine how much awkwardness is contained in the furrow of his brows, and fuck this wasn’t—
“...Dazzling.”
The noise Chan blurs out is a blend of embarrassment and choking on air on pure surprise. It’s more terrifying because Jihoon turns to look at him with a raised brow, arched and judging and Chan wants to drink till he can’t remember any of this.
“Why are you so surprised?”
No one has ever called him dazzling. Chan could’ve never imagined that Jihoon's lips would be the first to say it. Now, the eye contact is maintained and he doesn’t remember Jihoon ever holding his gaze before, always looking away after a few seconds.
But 'dazzling' seems too intense, too reminiscent of something beyond his reach, beyond his capabilities. It takes a few seconds but Chan finds his voice, however small and soft, “Don’t tease me.”
What else could it be besides a subtle dig aimed at embarrassing him? It's already working, with Mingyu's smile transforming into disbelief. He's struggling to stifle his laughter, torn between amusement and shock at the unexpected remark. Meanwhile, Seungkwan erupts into uncontrollable laughter, intoxicated and unsteady, collapsing into Mingyu’s embrace with snorts of amusement.
There’s a hand slipping into his, and as Chan turns to meet the gaze, it’s Soonyoung stepping forward, his lips forming a subtle frown, eyes narrowed like the ripple across oceans. At that moment, Chan is reminded that beneath Soonyoung's gentle smile lies the essence of the man he has always chased, a paragon of excellence, the greatest dancer Chan has ever known.
“Jihoon-ah is right though, Channie is dazzling.” A strong belief is imprinted in those words, the kind of trust that came with sweating their blood for the past few years. “He’s the reason why we have a studio.”
“Hyung that’s not true—”
Soonyoung turns the glare to him now, so fierce that Chan presses closer to Jihoon. “If you hadn’t pushed us, I don’t think we’d be here.”
“You’re still terrible at taking compliments,” Jihoon tugs his hand and for a moment, Chan thinks they’re going to hold hands, fingers intertwining but instead, he opens up Chan’s palm and drops a piece of sweet there. “I’m not teasing you. You really are dazzling.”
It’s familiar looking and Chan pops it into his mouth without a second thought. Oh.
It’s tiring. He wants to drop, wants to give in to his shaking legs and aching joints, to feel the cool press of the floor against his cheeks. But he doesn’t because that wouldn’t be right and Chan needs to put in more effort.
The mirrors are fogged over, the floor more slippery than he first started and his world is tilting with every step, but all that signifies is that he's putting in the work, that his time in the small room is paying off. He can see improvements in the way he moves, his dance style aligning more closely with his heart, his soul bleeding into the wooden floor beneath him.
He keeps on going and going, a loop of willpower holding him together—
“Yah, you need to rest.”
Jihoon’s voice was the first thing Chan noticed back when he was a freshman, a trance of vocals like the soft dance of fireflies on a summer's eve, a push and pull that gravitates your heart up and down and right now, it was all the push Chan needed to sit himself down, to breath harshly, to force air to stay in his lungs long enough to stop feeling light-headed.
In. Out. In. Out. A press against his shoulder. In. A hand taking his. Out. In. The press of something against his palm. Out. In. Out. In—
“Eat.”
Chan doesn’t even know what it is, but he listens, and the sweetness that envelops his senses almost brings tears to his eyes. It's like tasting liquid joy, melting heaven on his tongue.
“Fuck hyung, what is this?”
Jihoon holds up a small box wrapped in pink ribbon with a note attached. Before Chan gets a chance to read it, Jihoon opens it and inside is rows of chocolates. "Have some more," he extended the box towards Chan. "You need sugar if you're gonna dance all day."
“Did hyung buy this?” It was hard to imagine Jihoon in a cute chocolate shop buying something wrapped in ribbon and the image seemed like a shadow in a sunlit garden.
“It’s Valentine's Day, I got this as a gift.”
The sweetness in his mouth morphs into a hint of bitterness, a dark chocolate centre, rich and buttery.
Chan pauses, a little surprised, “That’s today? Wait, isn’t this meant for hyung, I can’t eat—”
“I don’t eat sweets often,” Jihoon takes a piece and pops it into his mouth, humming a little, “Dark chocolate isn’t bad but I’m trying to be more healthy—”
“Oh my god! Hyung! You got chocolates! Who was it?” His excitement bursts out, cutting out Jihoon but Chan is more focused on the confession.
A confession. On Valentine's Day. They must really like Jihoon, Chan thinks to himself, trying to imagine the type of person who would fall for his hyung. Maybe it's someone who enjoys the notes in his voice, or admires how passionate he is about everything he does. It could be that they're drawn to the genuine warmth of his smile, how it softens his whole face like clouds on a sunny day.
Chan also considers that it could be someone who appreciates Jihoon's silence and the way he carries himself. There's a certain confidence in Jihoon's demeanour, a sense of self-assurance that commands respect wherever he goes because he’s someone who takes over a room once he walks in. Chan wants to be like him.
"A girl from my course. We’ve never spoken before," Jihoon admits, his ears tinged with a faint blush.
"So, are you guys dating?" Chan asks, popping two more pieces of chocolate into his mouth.
"No, I turned her down," Jihoon reaches over and pinches Chan's thigh lightly. "Don’t talk with your mouth full," he scolds gently. Chan nods, giving him a pleading look that silently begs for him to continue.
"I don’t like her," Jihoon explains and he takes another piece for himself, "It wouldn't be fair to lead her on if I don't have genuine feelings for her."
That makes sense. Jihoon is always so sincere, a person never does what he doesn’t want to do and it’s admirable. He just hoped Jihoon turned the person down gently, not in his usual blunt way, but instead with a softer touch, like a delicate stroke of a brush rather than a heavy-handed slap of paint.
“What about you.”
Chan tilts his head at Jihoon, “I got none.”
There’s a slight cough and the red from Jihoon’s ears has now spread to his neck, a flush bright on his pale skin. “Would you want some?”
To be told he’s loved, that there’s someone out there who wants to spend time with him, wants to further fall for him, wants him as he is sounds lovely. Chan thinks being in love is the easiest thing when you know your own heart.
"I'd appreciate it," Chan responds softly, "but I think I'd decline, even if I could see myself dating them."
There's a brief silence as the words steep in the air. Chan decides to continue because he doesn’t think Jihoon is going to ask more but Chan wants to share, "Hyung, I dream of opening my own dance studio someday. But for all of that to happen, I need time. I don't think I'd be able to fully love someone right now. I want to become...dazzling before I consider dating."
“That’s very…mature,” Jihoon remarks, tone showing a little hint of admiration.
A small snort escapes Chan, and he playfully elbows Jihoon in the side. “I know, right?”
“What happens after you get the studio?” Jihoon's question is posed with such certainty that it sets a flutter in Chan's heart. It's as if Jihoon sees it as an inevitable outcome, a fate written in the stars. And for Chan, who's accustomed to being overlooked, it feels like a warm light, a small fire in a sea of doubt. It's a feeling like being lifted by a gentle breeze after being anchored down for so long, a sense of validation that blooms like a rare flower in a barren field.
“Maybe if they haven't moved on, I'd like to try again.”
Jihoon hums again, "Do you think someone would love you for that long?"
"Probably not. They'd have to be truly sincere in their feelings if they did— kinda like you, hyung."
Jihoon turns to him, eyes widening slightly. "What?"
Chan wants to tease him, so he puts on a sweet grin. "I think someone like you could love me for a long time."
Another comfortable silence settles between them, cocooning them in warmth, much like the chocolates in their hands. Jihoon huffs lightly when Chan looks over at him, and it's just a touch endearing.
Between the two of them, the box is finished and a sweet-bitter aftertaste lingers in his mouth.
“This is the second time you’ve given me chocolate,” Chan blurts it out without thought and feels Jihoon stiffen beside him.
“Chan-ah,” suddenly his face is turned, firm hands cupping his cheeks and he’s hit with the sour breath of soju and chicken. “Hyung loves you a lot, you know that right? I think you’re dazzling too.” Seungkwan looks serious again. They say drunken words are sober thoughts.
“I love you too,” Chan tries his best to pronounce the words right with squished cheeks. Seungkwan’s face lights up, a pretty smile on his face, obviously pleased. “You want to go home now? Maybe have a drink of water?”
Seungkwan nods. Sentimental drunk Seungkwan only ever listened to Chan.
After Mingyu passes the bottle over, Chan turns to Jihoon, a small smile splayed across his lips, voice soft, “I think hyung is really cool. Maybe even more dazzling than me.”
Jihoon is still a little stiff but he answers Chan with an equally soft tone, “Don’t tease me—”
"No, really," Chan insists. "I've always thought you were the coolest."
When Jihoon spoke again, Chan sensed the gentleness of jasmines in his words, “Thank you. It means a lot.”
“Can we go home?” Seungkwan mumbles it but Chan picks up the words regardless, used to the scene.
“Yeah, let's go—”
“Want me to drop you off?” Jihoon offers it, and it's overwhelmingly sweet.
“It’s okay hyung, I drove here so we’ll be fine.”
And then it’s time to go. Chan doesn’t know what to do because he still hasn’t talked to Jihoon properly, and he doesn’t know if they ever will, if this meeting was a point of divergence, two intersecting lines that’ll never be seen again.
The sweetness on his tongue and the warmth against his shoulders. Chan doesn't want that again. He doesn’t want Jihoon to remain as a hill against the horizon only seen when the sun illuminates its silhouette, he wants to melt down the layers one by one and get his hands on Jihoon’s core, become someone close to Jihoon like Soonyoung. He wants to be friends who hang out often and not friends who used to hang out often.
But there’s no time and soon he has a drunk Seungkwan against his shoulders and they’re at the door, both Mingyu and Jihoon seeing them out.
The courage brought by the chocolate is pressed against his throat and Chan dares to open his mouth, “Hyung can I text you more often?” There’s a stronger urge, a weight on his tongue, but Chan doesn’t know if he can say it. The scars left by the unsaid words are always easier to deal with than false hope.
Then Jihoon looks at him, and the intensity is like being lit by a constellation of floating stars, almost as if Jihoon wanted to stitch Chan’s image into his eyes. It’s so much more than Chan has ever given, so much deeper than Chan ever thought and the unsaid words came out with ease, “I missed you hyung. A lot.”
The smile Jihoon gave him could only ever be dazzling. “Me too. More than I thought I could.”
Words are just words, but under Jihoon's guidance, they take on a greater aura, a richer flavour. Chan believes this is why Jihoon's albums and songs are so extraordinary. Under Jihoon's voice, anyone can feel as though they own the world.
“Text me when you get home.”
A familiar warmth, a warmth that he thought fizzled out. His hyung. “Okay.” Then he turns away, reaching for the door, feeling lighter.
I’m home ^^
R u free next Sunday?
I am!
12:00 Catmi Cafe? (location)
Okay hyung, I’ll see you there ^^
***
The lead-up to Sunday isn't a big deal. Chan's too caught up with work to really think about the fact that he'll probably be meeting Jihoon alone. They haven't hung out alone in ages, and this hits him hard just two hours before they're supposed to meet.
“I’m going to fuck up so bad—”
“Not a big deal if you do,” Hansol is laying flat across Chan’s bed, browsing his laptop for concert tickets for the both of them, “Jihoon hyung isn’t the type to care if you spill your coffee and pronounce shit wrong or trip over air—”
Chan throws a sock at him, “Is that what you think of me?”
Hansol dodges with the grace of a ripped candy wrapper and gives Chan a lazy smile, shrugging his shoulders. “My point is, you’re overthinking. It’s just a normal hangout man, you’ll have fun.”
The words spoken gave Chan enough courage to leave his house and arrive at the cafe by 11:45 am, a tad early so he could have a few moments to gather his thoughts.
Pushing open the small glass door, a gentle chime rang out, welcoming him into the cosy space. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee clung to him, a perfume, and Chan didn’t hate it at all. The cafe itself was like a hole of warmth, a quiet stillness of morning dew. Nestled away from the main roads, it seemed almost hidden, a secret haven tucked into the crook of the world. It was the kind of place that suited someone like Jihoon.
Maybe it could become the type of place Chan suited.
“Oh.”
Jihoon is already seated when Chan arrives. His head is bowed over his laptop, earbuds in place, and he hasn't noticed Chan's presence. Bathing in the soft glow of the cafe's yellow light, a halo seems to form around his figure, casting him in a soft glow. At that moment, Jihoon appears just a touch magical, as if the mundane surroundings have transformed into something more. The hill isn't just a hill; it feels like a sanctuary, with a glistening stream reflecting the golden rays of the sun, painting the scene in hues of fractured colours and dancing lights. It feels like stumbling upon a sunset picnic.
Chan watches Jihoon for a few beats longer than necessary before walking over with a small smile. Jihoon still doesn’t notice, so Chan raps his knuckles against the wooden table, and then honey-soaked eyes look up at him.
“Hey, hyung.”
“You’re here early.”
Chan settles himself across from Jihoon, a teasing glint in his eyes as he speaks, "You too. Hyung must've been excited to see me." It’s a playful tone, testing the waters, trying to figure out how small their boundary is and where to place his feet in relation to Jihoon’s heart.
There's no immediate response from Jihoon. Instead, he slides a small bag and a cup of coffee across the table towards Chan, who opens the bag and finds a generous slice of banana loaf. His stomach rumbles weakly at the aroma. "Thanks, hyung," Chan murmurs gratefully, finding the gesture sweeter than the first bite he takes.
The coffee is his exact order. Probably Soonyoung.
"I want you to choreograph a dance for my new song," Jihoon suddenly breaks the silence with a request that catches Chan off guard. “There’s a tight schedule though—”
Chan struggles to swallow but pushes out a weak, “Hyung wait, shouldn’t you ask Soonyoung hyung about this?”
“I want you,” Jihoon is staring straight into his soul, with a blunt tone and a firm face, “You can say no but I don't want Soonyoung-ah.”
“He’s better at—”
A stern gaze from Jihoon causes Chan's sentence to stutter and halt. Jihoon turns his laptop to face Chan, his eyes still fixed on him, but the warmth that had been there moments before is now replaced with a firm demeanour, almost a little icy. It's as if Chan isn't sitting across from Jihoon, but instead facing Woozi.
"Chan-ah, do you trust my judgment?" Jihoon's question hangs in the air, laden with an intensity that sends a shiver down Chan's spine.
Chan had always respected Jihoon's keen judgment. There was something about the way he looked at things that could see past the surface and find the value underneath.
“O-of course.”
The laptop screen shows Chan. It’s his dancing videos, a whole playlist with every choreography he’s ever made, even ones he hasn’t released to the public. Probably Soonyoung. “I’ve watched it all. My team has watched it and we want you.”
This wasn’t what Chan was expecting and a weight that shouldn’t exist forms. Jihoon wanted to hang out because of work and while it was flattering and a great opportunity, Chan felt just a little sting, a small crack on a glass, insignificant yet still there.
But the other side is the immense greed, the chance to be greater than he already is. With a curt nod, Chan asks, “Which song?”
“Sun-Kissed You.”
Chan recognises it. It’s a fan favourite and he likes it too, the intimate and reflection lyrics tinged with the melancholy of unrequited love. The song sounded more like a letter than anything. “Right, so tell—”
Jihoon suddenly shuts the laptop and gives Chan a small smile, a softened blur, “We don’t have to talk about it now, I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“You sure? I don—”
Jihoon shakes his head and light falls in a gradient across the wisps of hair that move with him, “I just want to hang out and talk. Work can come later.”
For a split second, Chan wonders if he’s dreaming with his eyes open because the world now only revolves around Jihoon. Or, it’s like the colours all blur into grey and the backgrounds melt into a visionless void and only Jihoon is there, in his black shirt and red coke. Only for a split second and then the noise of the cafe comes back with the soft lights and small clatter.
“Hyung, I have a question.”
Jihoon nods.
“The lyrics are a letter right?”
Jihoon gives him a look, a shine in the eye that Chan can’t decipher but he nods again, “You noticed. Do you like it?”
Curiosity gone, he puts on a big grin and watches Jihoon smile back like a mirror, reflecting the warmth of his words like a sunbeam dancing on the surface of a rippling pond. “Yeah, I love letters! It’s really romantic hyung.”
There’s another look Chan can’t understand, but it seems familiar, a whisper of a silhouette in the far distance. Chan can’t pick Jihoon apart so he learns to store that expression away, “Hyung are you dating someone?”
Jihoon raises a brow, a little unimpressed, "No," and before Chan can say more, Jihoon's voice drops like a gentle touch on his soul, soft and unassuming, "Are…you dating someone?”
If it were the Chan who thought of Jihoon as a mountain, he would've said something teasing, a little playful. But the him now, who sits in front of Jihoon in a quiet little cafe, a man like a sunset picnic, Chan can only say, “No. I'm single.”
The words hold weight but Chan doesn't understand why.
Jihoon gives a slight hum, and it sounds like a song, sweet and pure, and Chan wants to spend more time with him. "Hyung, want to get dinner after this?"
Jihoon tilts his head a little and Chan is reminded of Hansol’s cat, "Dinner?"
Chan could just say that he wants to spend more time together, and Jihoon would most likely agree, but that's not the words his heart is pointing at. The core of his emotions tells him something a little more similar to the chocolate Jihoon gave Chan.
"Teach me how to play the guitar while we eat."
When Jihoon nods, Chan feels the world cupped in his hands.
"You can’t be serious!”
“What’s wrong with liking someone for their face—”
Chan shoves Seungkwan just a little, not enough to tip the ice cream in his hand but enough to make him stumble to the side a little. “That’s not love!”
“Well, I love their face, so,” Seungkwan shrugs his shoulders and sticks his tongue out at Chan, entirely annoying and slightly childish. “I’m not a hopeless romantic like you—”
With a flushed face and a wronged expression, Chan turns to Jihoon walking on the other side of him, quietly eating his own vanilla cone, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Hyung, tell him that’s not love!”
“Seungkwan-ah, that’s not love.” It’s said with no emotion and Chan pouts while Seungkwan gives a half-assed ‘okay’ next to him with a smug grin.
“Seriously—”
Jihoon stops him with a single glance. “What do you think love is then?”
Seungkwan groans, “Hyung, don’t, he’ll probably give a really sappy answer—” Chan kicks him lightly and ignores his exaggerated wails.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me yours, hyung.”
There’s a light snort, and Chan watches Jihoon’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “Are you a kid? That was lame—”
“Hyung!”
Maybe the pathetic aura radiated off his body because Jihoon sighed. “You first.”
It’s not a hard question to answer, so Chan goes with whatever comes first in his mind. “Love is someone giving me letters.”
“What?” Jihoon pauses, and Chan stops with him and by default, Seungkwan does too. Under the heat, the ice cream leaves a trail of sweetness across their fingers. “Letters?”
Chan nods, a little shy because Jihoon is looking directly at him, giving his full attention like the sun on a dew-kissed morning, "I like giving letters, so it'd be really nice to get one someday, from the one I love."
"Oh."
Jihoon's ice cream melts off the cone, but he doesn't seem to care, and Chan can't look away from the growing flush of red across Jihoon's cheeks.
He softly clears his throat. "Your turn."
"I—"
"Hey!" It's Minghao and Mingyu, across the street, waving at them, and Chan's attention shifts. The excitement rolls off his grin because Chan hadn’t seen them in a while, so with hurried movements, he grabs Jihoon's free hand and pulls him along, behind him.
Jihoon falls into step behind Chan without question, without hesitation. Their hands naturally fit into each other, clasping together in a tight embrace. Jihoon's fingers and palm are slightly larger and cooler than his own. Despite this, the touch feels comforting, grounding them as they move forward together.
He never heard Jihoon's answer that day, and by the time they parted ways, he had forgotten it entirely.
The sound of a knife against the board had Chan humming a soft, out-of-tune song, but he couldn’t help the settling guilt. “Hyung you really don’t have to cook for me, I’ll buy us something.”
Jihoon doesn’t even turn around to answer, “I’m not cooking for you, it’s for me. Eating out is bad.”
Chan finds himself gazing at Jihoon’s broad back, overwhelmed by a deep fondness that takes hold of him completely. Despite the contradiction between Jihoon's words and actions, Chan is touched by the fact that Jihoon is cooking his favourite dish.
He has to tease, “Is that why you’re making kimchi jjigae?”
The sound of the knife falters, the beat a little slower and Chan watches with glee as the slight red shines on Jihoons ears. “It’s easy to make.”
“Sure hyung,” Chan slips off the chair and walks up next to Jihoon with sun steps, light and gentle, “Is it that hard to admit you care? I don’t mind, you know.”
“You already know I care, why do I have to say it,” Jihoon’s voice is barely there, and standing behind him, Chan can feel Jihoon’s heat on his chest. It’s slightly intoxicating and Chan wants to press their bodies together, to meld the barriers and touch. So he does, by an inch.
The knife had stopped now, but neither of them made a move. From where Chan stood, he could see a flush spreading delicately across Jihoon's nape, dipping down to his shoulders and disappearing under his shirt. In that instant, it felt as if every scattered emotion Chan had ever experienced coalesced into one moment, a stillness in time, and the face it reflected back to him was Jihoon bloomed in red. All of a sudden, the world was a song just for him.
It’s a silent gesture as Chan raises his hand, his fingertips softly brushing aside Jihoon’s hair to touch his nape, feeling the skin beneath tremble. "Hyung should say it too," Chan murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not very good at picking up actions."
"I know," Jihoon’s voice matches his, and before Chan can fully process it, Jihoon turns his body. Instead of gazing down at a flushed nape, Chan finds himself staring into flushed cheeks and deep, bottomless eyes. "You're terribly dense.” Amusement and something darker.
For some reason, Chan believes him and accepts the insult because Jihoon says it so softly, words painting shades of moonlight across his heart.
“Hyung turn the stove off.”
Jihoon raises a sceptical brow, but the flush across his face deepens. Still, he makes no move to comply. Chan has never been patient when it comes to certain things, and with Jihoon, he's even less restrained. There’s something there, something big and lovely and all…his.
Pressing closer to Jihoon, Chan finds a certain satisfaction in the sharp inhale of breath that escapes him, in the widening of his eyes beneath him, dark and quick. Their chests barely touch, exchanging light brushes with each inhale and exhale. Jihoon's hair brushes against Chan's chin, and it's a sweet scent of lemons and apples. Jihoon is trapped, yet he’s almost a little too pliant.
"What are you doing?" Jihoon's voice is slightly breathless, almost on the verge of cracking.
With deliberate slowness, Chan reaches out his hand, brushing past Jihoon's waist with a light touch as he reaches for the stove, turning it off with a decisive click that echoes in the silence. "Hyung, dance with me."
There’s a light shove against his chest and Chan takes a few steps back. Jihoon looks ready to bolt. “Don’t tease me. I can’t—”
Chan holds his hand out, palm outstretched and Jihoon’s eyes drop to it. “Hyung,” a soft whisper and it almost surprises him at how close his voice sounds like a plea, like the sun behind clouds. “Please, I want to dance with you.”
Between them, there are fragments of light dancing in the air, specks of gold and orange that seem to bathe Jihoon's apartment with the warmth of an entire field of flowers. In this gentle glow, Jihoon reaches for Chan's hand, and in that simple gesture, there’s beauty in the way their hands clasp.
Chan pulls. Jihoon follows.
There’s no music, just the shuffles of their feet and the soft way their breaths come out. It’s a slow waltz and Chan sets the pace as something not strictly platonic. He takes Jihoon’s free hand and places it on his shoulders while his own gets to Jihoon’s waist and he leads with small steps.
Jihoon is red and there’s a small frown on his face, “No stop, I’ll step on your feet–”
Chan twirls them in a small, sweet movement, and he can't help but smile down at Jihoon, who immediately looks away. "Hyung, you can step on them for a lifetime and I still wouldn't care," Chan reassures him.
There's a moment of hesitation, and Jihoon almost stumbles, but Chan's grip on his waist tightens, pulling them closer and keeping the waltz going. Jihoon isn't meeting his gaze, but he clears his throat, the sound painfully raw. "You... that sounds like a proposal. Don’t be ridiculous—"
"Do you want it—" Chan's sentence is cut short as Jihoon accidentally steps on his foot, and he winces in pain.
Jihoon tries to pull away, his strength overpowering Chan's, but Chan refuses to let go, whining pitifully. "Just dance with me and get better," he pleads.
There's a moment of stillness, their steps coming to a halt. Finally, Jihoon raises his head to meet Chan's gaze, and at that moment, it feels as if fire could be held within a person, for Chan is burning under Jihoon's intense stare. When Jihoon's lips part, his voice carries a richness of dark chocolate with sunlight at its centre.
"That might take a long time," his words hanging in the air.
A long time. Chan wants that. “That doesn’t sound…bad, hyung.”
Jihoon snorts, and the sound echoes like a distant piano. "I was meant to teach you guitar, not learn waltzing."
“You can teach me some other time.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They spin and twirl and fall in step like petals swirling in a summer breeze, gentle and together. Jihoon’s eyes never stray from Chan and Chan likes that they’re all for him.
It all falls down when Chan catches Jihoon taking small glimpses past his shoulder and curiosity gets the better of him. He twirls them around again, keeping the bodies so close that Jihoon’s breath is warm across his neck. He flicks his eyes up and reality crashes down. A painting, large and lovely and in the centre of the space Jihoon calls home. It’s the painting on the album, the man that looks like Chan. The man that Jihoon likes.
Chan misses a step.
“Yah!” Jihoon steadies him immediately, fingers digging into his shoulder.
“Oh. Sorry.” He sounds a little empty.
Jihoon gives him a look, and Chan can’t read the lines across his face. They pull away from each other and suddenly, the light dancing across Jihoon’s face dulls. “I should get back to cooking.”
Chan doesn’t stop him when he steps away. That night, Chan notes down rice as one of the many things Woozi loves. That night, Chan understands that Jihoon is still in love with the man in the painting.
"I'm going to kill you," Jihoon’s tone is sharp as he fixes Soonyoung with a piercing glare.
Soonyoung withers under Jihoon's gaze. "It's not my fault, blame Channie."
With an eye roll, there’s a curt grumble, "How does he manage to make you come 30 minutes late? We missed the movie idiot."
“Channie wanted to dance with me, Jihoon-ah he used his puppy eyes, I couldn’t say no.”
“You guys dance every day, this—”
Soonyoung shakes his head, wearing the same expression he often adopts when he's in front of the mirror, critical of himself. Jihoon recognizes that look all too well.
"This wasn't work, it was more like...just dancing?" Soonyoung offers, sensing Jihoon's confusion.
Jihoon furrows his brow in confusion, and Soonyoung hurries quickly. "Sometimes, he likes to just dance with people. Without worrying about the steps or any mistakes."
“Oh,” Jihoon responds quietly.
With a nonchalant shrug, Soonyoung places his hand on Jihoon's shoulder. "Yeah, he rarely asks, so when he does, I try not to say no."
"Does he dance with everyone?"
Soonyoung shakes his head. "He's pretty shy. I've only seen him dance like that with Seungkwan-ah and Hansol-ah before."
As Jihoon's coke nears empty, Soonyoung nudges him playfully, his face lighting up with a bright smile. "Chan-ah must really like me! We danced for a long time today... Ah, I'm such a good hyung—"
Jihoon interrupts by pinching Soonyoung's cheeks harshly and pulling him away from the cinema. "You're paying for dinner. BBQ."
"Yah! That's expensi— OW– stop– fine let me go!"
“Woah, that’s huge!”
Chan nods, a little shy, “Apparently they really liked my style.”
Hansol grins at him and the cat in Chan’s lap purrs fully content, pressing her face into his palms to demand pets. “Dude, this could be great for the studio.”
Chan knows. While his and Soonyoung’s studio is fairly known and is doing well with getting students, Woozi is on a whole other level of fame and recognition. This collaboration could definitely boost them further and the greed in Chan is overwhelming.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here, Soonyoung hyung is throwing a party as a celebration. Karaoke night, you up for it?”
“Tonight? I—”
“Minghao hyung is coming.” Chan gives Hansol a sly smile and watches him freeze for a second, a little flustered.
With a small cough, Hansol looks away, cheeks burning, “Yeah dude, I’ll be there.”
"Simp—" Chan starts to tease, only to have a pillow thrown at his face. He lets it hit, unwilling to disturb the cat resting on his lap, while Hansol smirks triumphantly, knowing Chan won't budge. Sly fucker.
“You and Jihoon hyung have been super close recently too,” Hansol observes, casually.
Chan feels a flush creeping up his cheeks, surprising them both. Hansol adopts a blank expression when Chan avoids eye contact.
“Since when?” Hansol pushes in close, narrowed eyes fixing him down. Chan can't dodge the question. If he did, Hansol would undoubtedly tell Seungkwan, leading to a different type of confrontation.
With a deep sigh, Chan continues to pet the cat on his lap, summoning the courage to finally speak. “I don't know. Last night we had dinner at his place, and everything just... clicked. I like him. A lot. Like, I danced with him.”
“You danced with him?”
Hearing Hansol repeat it made an odd rush of panic settle in his heart, digging and heavy and he doubled over with a horrified groan, burying his face in fur. “Fuck hyung, we slow danced.”
Hansol doesn’t speak for a minute and Chan dares to steal a glance. Hansol has a thoughtful expression on his face, “He danced with you though, doesn’t that mean he likes you?”
“He doesn’t.” Chan is firm.
“Chan-ah, I would never slow dance with a friend.”
There’s a hopeful blossom in Hansol’s words, a soft, tender hand guiding the seed of love into Chan's overgrown heart. It shouldn’t be buried. “Hyung he’s in love with someone else.”
There’s a shuffle and a warm palm drops on his head, fingers tugging through his locks and Hansol is the kindness that gives Chan strength, “Why do you say that?”
“Hyung,” Chan leans into Hansol’s hand further, seeking out comfort, “He’s still hung up over his crush.”
“You don’t know that.” It’s a gentle tone, almost like a sun-soaked lake.
Chan scoffs, “He made a whole album for them. Jihoon hyung still loves this person.”
They both see the sweetness of the lyrics, soaked with Jihoon's emotions, and even Hansol can't deny Chan's words. Yet, the hand on his head remains affectionate and reassuring. "All I’m saying is, slow dancing in the kitchen and him making you dinner sounds a little romantic."
It felt romantic too. However, Chan can't help but wonder if it's merely his one-sided attraction shaping his perception.
“Maybe talk to him tonight, try to gauge if he likes you back.”
“I guess. You should talk to Minghao hyung too.”
Hansol gives a weak hum, “I will—”
“You should ask him to go with you to the new museum across town,” Chan perks up, lifting his head and giving Hansol a soft smile. “Hyung really likes stuff like that!”
“The new art museum?”
Chan nods. Hansol gives a small smile, “Okay. Thanks, Chan-ah.”
“I can’t do this,” Hansol’is voice tinged with panic.
Chan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic—”
Hansol shoots him a glare, and Chan struggles to suppress a laugh as his friend freaks out over Minghao’s newly dyed red hair. “I can’t, I’m going to fucking embarrass myself, and he’ll think I’m a weirdo and I—”
“He’s singing a nursery rhyme, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Minghao is doing a duet, looking awfully calm while Seungcheol is prancing around with cute little steps and Chan takes his phone out to record the moment. “You should do a duet with him later—”
“If you sing with Jihoon hyung, I’ll sing with Minghao hyung.”
“Jihoon hyung is professional, there’s no way I can sing—”
“Is that so?” A new voice interrupts and the wind chimes are blowing moonbeams down at Chan. Hansol and him both turn to find an amused-looking Jihoon next to a grinning Soungyoung. “You made me dance last time, it’s only fair that you sing tonight.”
Before Chan can respond, Soonyoung slips in and grasps Hansol's hands, shooting a quick glance at Minghao before whisking them both away. Chan exchanges a puzzled look with Jihoon, but Jihoon merely shrugs in response. “He likes to meddle.”
Chan tries to contain his nerves, acting casual, “Are you seriously going to make me sing?”
The smirk Jihoon gives is downright diabolical, causing Chan's heart to race as if it's about to burst from his chest. "Hyung, you can't—"
"I can't?" Jihoon interrupts, his voice carrying a hint of mischief that sends shivers down Chan's spine. "Is that a challenge?"
“I’ll make you go deaf—” Chan begins, but Jihoon cuts him off.
“Just sing with me till you get better,” Jihoon suggests, echoing Chan's earlier words. Under the neon lights of the karaoke room, Jihoon seems like a dark mass void of colours, and Chan finds himself struggling against his gravitational pull. “We're singing next, so be ready.”
“Hyung are you really this evil,” there’s a whine coming out and when Jihoon meets his eyes, Chan does his best to put on a kicked puppy expression, fluttering his lashes and cowering.
He pretends the flush across Jihoon’s ears doesn’t send a spark of delight through him.
Red and lovely and still not crumbling under his eyes. Jihoon maintains their eye contact, “If you do it, hyung will give you a reward.”
“W-what?” His voice comes out high-pitched and broken.
Jihoon doesn’t say more. He just gives Chan one last lookover, eyes lingering on his face before he turns away to where Minghao and Seungcheol are singing. The nursery rhyme is about to end and he only has a few seconds to make a decision.
The way Jihoon spoke, it sounded like a temptation, a challenge. It lit a spark but Chan didn’t know if it’ll leave him in pieces.
Still, when Jihoon picks the song and turns, Chan is beside him, draped in pink and holding a mic.
The first note plays and Chan’s head snaps to Jihoon, who only smiles at him.
The Sun-Kissed You. Cheers erupt from all around, from Seungcheol, Mingyu, and even Jun, whom Chan doesn’t know very well. Seungkwan points his phone at them, capturing the moment, while Seokmin stands next to him with a warm smile.
Then, between the celebrations, Chan feels another pull, this time meeting Minghao’s gaze from the corner. Minghao neither cheers nor smiles; instead, he simply looks on. There's a heaviness in his stare that steals the air from Chan's lungs without mercy. An anchor dragging him to the depths.
But the music flows sweetly and there’s nothing else he can do but sing. He knows Jihoon’s watching from the corner of his eyes so he raises his mic to his lips.
‘When nights have not fallen yet, and mornings have not risen yet,’
‘Will all the time in between be spent with you,’
His voice wavers slightly, but then a hand slips into his own. Jihoon is holding his hand. Chan barely notices Hansol giving him a huge grin.
‘Where you and I don’t exist,’
‘How did you manage to get inside this place called my heart?’
Jihoon’s hand feels cold against his own, its size larger than Chan remembers, yet its touch carries a sweetness he hadn't known before. Chan's heart cracks to unleash his voice, to drown them all in a golden embrace of sound.
‘Strumming away the worries with my hand in yours, the strings singing, you were my youth.’
‘Why am I the only one playing with my heart?’
The grip tightens. Chan looks at their interlocked hands and something clicks.
‘My mornings…My every morning…I wish to wake up while looking at your face,’
‘My Evenings…my every evening…I wish to fall on your lap and end my day,’
Jihoon loves in a quiet, tender and sweet. His heart is leaping.
‘The Sun-Kissed you who was my youth,’
‘The feeling of joy was like a speck of gold,’
The song finishes and the room erupts into noise, but to Chan, it feels as though the sound is muffled, distant. Jihoon's gaze, however, is like a spotlight in the darkness, shining with such intensity that Chan feels as though he's the only constellation in the night sky that matters.
Jihoon loves in a quiet voice and Chan thinks he may have missed it.
“Hyung—”
“Yah! That was really good!” There’s a hand thrown around his shoulder and Chan is ripped away. The hand holding his disappears when others crown them. “You weren’t terrible this time.” Seungkwan looks gleeful next to him. Their score is 95.
Chan attempts a smug grin, “Think you can beat me?”
As expected, Seungkwan takes the bait and drags Jun into a duet with him, while Jihoon continues to fend off a clingy Mingyu and Soonyoung.
Without hesitation, Chan slips away to the corner, where Minghao watches his approach with an expression that suggests he predicted Chan's move.
Chan feels that Jihoon might be something far greater than a sunset picnic. “Hyung, I lied to you before.”
Minghao’s face remains unchanged, as if he already knew. Nonetheless, Chan feels compelled. “My first thought when I saw that painting was that it was me. I thought you painted me. I thought…I thought Jihoon hyung loved me.”
It’s easy to love but Chan thinks noticing love is a little harder. Sometimes it burrows into cracks without notice and grows tenfold in the span of a few minutes and all of a sudden, your heart is so full of everything that reflects desire. Chan knows of a million different ways to show affection and yet, Jihoon does it in the most tender way.
Minghao is smiling at him, his eyes shimmering, "Do you know why I agreed to paint that, Chan-ah?"
Chan shakes his head.
"You should ask Jihoon hyung," Minghao suggests.
Chan follows Minghao's gaze, finding Jihoon still caught between their friends. Despite the words of protest, a subtle smile pulls on Jihoon's lips.
"He laughs so freely."
Minghao hums in agreement. "He does."
"I always thought he'd be colder, but Jihoon hyung, in my memories and even now, he's always smiling. He loves us a lot, doesn't he?"
Minghao nods. "He does."
"He loves me a lot too, doesn't he?"
Minghao is warm like the first rain of spring. "He does."
From a towering mountain to a flower-loved hillside, then to the warmth of a sunset picnic. Now, Chan thinks Jihoon most suits the name of a lover.
Jihoon may love quiet but Chan loves loud.
Chan strides over to Jihoon, ignoring the glances Mingyu and Soonyoung throw at him and with a soft motion, he reaches out and takes Jihoon's hand, gently pulling him away from their friends. "Hyung, let's go!"
Jihoon hangs out tight, even when Chan pulls them out of the karaoke room, ignoring all the yells and all the noise other than their own running feet. They dash out into the rain, and despite the downpour, Chan can't suppress the laughter that bursts forth. Each raindrop feels like a gentle kiss against his skin.
The hand clasped firmly in his own is the one he wants to hold, now and for always.
The rain feels sweet against their skin, each droplet a gentle fell that fills Chan's heart, like pooling droplets of happiness. His smile widens as he hears Jihoon's laughter, soft and short yet undeniably chiming in the air around them.
“This is very dramatic,” Jihoon's voice melds seamlessly with the patter of raindrops, a tender undertone in the downpour. Chan turns to him, drenched but beaming with delight. Jihoon beams back, “I feel like we’re in a movie, running through the rain and laughing.”
"Hyung, do you like rainy confessions?" Chan's heart swells with sunsets and lovers.
Jihoon’s grip on his hand tightens, the gesture barely noticeable under the silvery mist, but it tugs at Chan’s heartstrings nonetheless. Despite the busy street with cars passing by and people hurrying past, Chan's heart is only on Jihoon.
“Depends,” a cryptic response.
Chan presses for more, “On what?”
Jihoon's gaze holds like a precious ruby sparkling in the dim light, red and gorgeous, and Chan can't help but feel greed settle into his fingertips. "Depends on who’s confessing. If it's from the right person…nothing else matters."
The answer doesn’t surprise Chan, but his heart feels like a butterfly trapped in a storm, “Hyung, if you want something, you should say it.”
Jihoon is shining. “Chan-ah, will you dance with me?”
Chan wants to shine with him.
Jihoon lifts their hands, interlocked and pressed without any space in between, and the silver moon deflects its shine off raindrops and its warmth lands on them, drenched and dancing. It’s freeing, with Jihoon spinning them softly in circles, hand on Chan’s waist and heart on his sleeve.
"I’m sorry I took this long, hyung," Chan murmurs, following Jihoon's lead and gazing down at him. Jihoon looks consuming, like a sun, while Chan feels like the most foolish man alive. "It must've been unbearable—"
The words are lodged in his throat when Jihoon dips him, all too sudden, all too quick and all too well. They come face-to-face, and drops of water from Jihoon's hair fall onto Chan, their cool touch almost like lips against his skin. "Unbearable?" Jihoon looks a little dazed.
"You know me—my likes, my dislikes. You know me so well. But I can't say the same about you. I... I don't know you—"
“Nothing was unbearable Chan-ah, not when it’s you.” Jihoon pulls him up and sunlight bursts into Chan’s vision looking awfully alike to Jihoon’s smile. The dip turns into a twirl and Chan feels as if they’re dancing on air, footsteps imprinted on clouds, fingers dusted with pixie dust and magic. “I did all of that because I wanted to.”
A love so tender, a gentle gift of the heart that pours itself out without expectation of receiving in return, a love that knows no bounds yet lingering in the shadows of unrequited longing. A love that must be tragic. "But didn't it make you sad?"
“It did.” Still, Jihoon looks at Chan the same way he always has. Only now, Chan can hear the notes in the quiet moments.
“I'm sorry it took me so long,” the rain muffles his words and there’s a shake to his voice but Jihoon’s face still blooms like a firelit night. “I really am stupid—”
“Chan-ah, you still haven’t said it. Hyung wants to hear it.” Jihoon looks close to madness, sanity on the brink.
Oh.
In the rain, dancing with a man he once saw as distant as a towering mountain, its peak reaching beyond the sun. From a hill that seemed just out of reach, loved by flowers and painted in hues of orange, to a sunset sky of every colour Chan thinks beautiful. And now, to love. To being a lover. To being a man who loves with a depth that Chan cannot fathom.
From Jihoon’s laugh to how he plays the guitar, to his small sweet smile to…everything him, every small detail to every exist about him, Chan wants to know and wants to love.
“I like you. Please go—”
The kiss is impatient. The kiss is drowning in music. The kiss is Jihoon loving Chan. The kiss sounds like an exploding Sun in the quiet of the night under a haze of rain.
Jihoon’s lips are softer than he expected, and more demanding. There are teeth softly biting and prodding, blooming waves of sparks that taste like dark chocolate coated in coke. Jihoon kisses like he sings, with a passion so great that Chan feels like a gem, and a new world of noise, of notes, a song all for him rings when their tongues meet, sweet yet bruising.
There are hands digging into Chan’s waist, fingertips etching their shape into his skin, a canvas of possession and in return, Jihoon’s hair is twisted around Chan’s fingers, gentle pulls every time Jihoon twists his tongue a certain way that leaves trails of butterflies bursting out his lungs.
“Air, fuc—” It keeps on going and Jihoon doesn’t let go. The tightness in his chest and the rush of dizziness and Chan needs air but there are fingers keeping him in place, “Hyun—”
His gasps for air are met with Jihoon's unyielding grip, and for a moment, Chan fears he might actually suffocate. "I– I'll die—"
Finally, Jihoon lets go, allowing Chan to gulp in air as if he's been starved of it for ages. "Fuck," he feels lightheaded and dizzy from the lack of oxygen. "Hyung, fuck…was that attempted murder?"
"Sorry, I just…I've been wanting that for a long time," Jihoon admits, breathless but satisfied. Very satisfied. Jihoon’s glowing. “Again, kiss me again.”
"Hyung! You can't just say that!" His cheeks flush furiously as Jihoon looks at him with a smug grin, his lips still tinged with the remnants of their kiss. Red and bruised, still begging for Chan to bite.
“Why not? Chan-ah, you have no idea—”
Before Jihoon can finish his sentence, Chan cuts him off with another kiss, hoping to drown out the sound of his racing heart.
The rain is still pouring when they walk hand in hand, shy and red. “This really was like a movie, Hansol-ah is going to freak when he hears this.”
“…”
Chan pouts, “We have to tell them!”
“Can we skip Soonyoung-ah?”
“Hyung, he’ll cry himself to death,” Chan tugs Jihoon closer, so they’re shoulder to shoulder. “Plus I work with him…aren’t you going to drop by to see me sometimes?”
Jihoon kisses his teeth, and it’s so utterly adorable because his hand grips Chan’s tighter. “I might.”
“You have to, that’s boyfriend duties.”
Beside him, Jihoon emits a grunt of surprise, almost snapping his head in Chan's direction. "Boyfriend?" He sounds ruined.
"Boyfriend," Chan declares, his grin widening as he gazes down at Jihoon. He takes in every detail: Jihoon's drenched figure, the way his black hair clings to his face with gentle wisps of willow, how red looks loveliest on his cheeks and not on roses, and the way Jihoon looks at him with the same affection as always.
"I'm high maintenance, so hyung better be prepared," Chan adds playfully, hoping Jihoon sees a mirror in his expression.
As their eyes meet, all Chan sees in Jihoon's gaze is uncontrolled fondness, and it nearly takes his breath away. "That doesn't sound bad," Jihoon responds, his voice soft like flowers on clouds.
"I'll take care of you too, hyung," Chan pleaded, "I'll give you so much love."
"How much?"
"Till you regret me,"
"It'll never be enough," Jihoon softly smiles, sweet as a kiss.
"You underestimate— don’t roll your eyes!"
"You sound like Soonyoung-ah."
"I'm not kissing you anymore."
"Yah!"
“Hyung, What did you say to Minghao hyung when you asked him to paint?”
Jihoon is still orange when he smiles.
“I told him about you.”