Super Junior AU; Hanchul; The Best Days of Our Lives
Title: The Best Days of Our Lives
Chapter: 16/25
Fandom: Super Junior AU (High School)
Pairing: Hankyung/crossdressing!Heechul (main), Kangin/Eeteuk, Kibum/Donghae, Yehsung/Ryeowook, Kyuhyun/Sungmin, bestfriends!Eunhae.
Word count: 3,352
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Coming into a strange new world can be strange enough. Unfortunately, someone’s forgotten to tell Hankyung something Very Important.
A/N: Again, a chapter that seemed hard when I was writing it. This and chapter 17 were really hard, and then chapter 19 just seemed to write itself, and I don't know how I managed that.
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17
Heechul arrived at his door at seven o’clock wearing the much-anticipated skirt; a pink linen, knee-length one, that he’d bought while out with Hankyung two weeks earlier. “Hi,” said Hankyung, grinned, and let Heechul in, holding the door open as Heechul ducked under his arm. He had taken to waiting in the main room for the knock on the door, and volunteering to get it, in order to avoid any unwanted situations.
“Who is it?” His mother called from the other room, before Hankyung could bundle Heechul upstairs, and Heechul smirked at him, and made Hankyung let him into the main room.
“It’s Heechul,” said Hankyung, and his father raised his eyebrows in that way that he did every time Heechul came over.
“Hello,” said Heechul cheerfully, and bowed slightly in respect. Hankyung was always shocked by how polite he could be if he wanted.
Hankyung had not told his parents that he was dating Heechul, because he felt like it would bring up awkward questions that he would be unable to answer. Heechul seemed to understand how he felt about this and didn’t mention anything specific in front of his parents, but he had taken to calling him “oppa”, and insisted on talking his parents if he got the chance.
“Hello,” said his mother, and smiled at Heechul. His mother appeared to like Heechul, judging by the way she was perfectly happy to talk to her whenever there was a chance, and sometimes tried to come into Hankyung’s room when they were together. Hankyung had taken to locking the door, although he was aware that this could imply a lot more than he wanted to imply. “Would you like something to eat or drink, dear?”
“No, thank you,” said Heechul with a smile. “I’ve just eaten.”
Hankyung’s father gave Hankyung a knowing look. His father was under the wrong impression that he knew exactly why Heechul kept coming over, and that was because she was Hankyung’s girlfriend that Hankyung was keeping a secret; or so he’d announced over dinner the day after Heechul’s second visit. Hankyung had choked on his mouthful of rice and spluttered a long list of protests, claiming that Heechul was just a friend and someone who came over to study with him. His father had laughed at him, and his mother had given him a funny look.
“I like your hair, Heechul,” said his mother, who had an eye for these things. “Have you had it cut?”
“Yeah,” said Heechul, and fiddled with the tips of it. “I had it done on Saturday, I’m not quite used to it yet.”
“It looks very nice,” said his father, in a round-about compliment. He turned to Hankyung and grinned at him. “Doesn’t it look nice, Hankyung?”
“Um,” said Hankyung, and now even Heechul was staring at him for an answer. “Yes?” He tried, and made an exasperated noise when Heechul frowned at him. “Look,” he said to him. “You’ve been fishing for compliments all day. If I hear Siwon say that you still look like a princess one more time, I’ll kill both you and him. Now, can we go please?” Hankyung took hold of his wrist. “Are you quite finished embarrassing me?”
“I would never be finished doing that, oppa,” said Heechul in an innocent voice, but allowed himself to be dragged out of the room nonetheless. Hankyung missed the amused glance his parents sent each other.
“What film did you bring?” Hankyung asked, when they were safely in his room. He half-closed the door; enough to block the bed from view, but not enough to block out the sounds of someone coming up the stairs.
“That one that no one would watch,” replied Heechul, kneeling on his bed to push the DVD into the player. “That first time you were at Eeteuk’s place, remember?”
Hankyung did remember, but he was fairly certain that what he remembered was not what Heechul remembered. Hankyung remembered a lost feeling as Heechul’s hair brushed on his arm as he slept. “The night you punched me?” He asked, and sat down on the bed.
“Yes,” said Heechul, and still did not apologise for it.
“Okay,” said Hankyung.
“It’s good,” said Heechul, and Hankyung knew that that translated as ‘scary’. “It’s not gory, mind, just full of suspense.”
“My favourite type of film,” said Hankyung sarcastically, and Heechul lay down beside him in the bed and Hankyung wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed the play button with the other one.
Heechul had been right when he’d said that the film was good, or at least, by his interpretation of good. Heechul was enthralled; Hankyung couldn’t tell you what the film had been about because he had his face buried in Heechul’s hair to block out the images. Yet, for Hankyung, the scariest part was when he heard his mother coming up the stairs and they jumped apart and Heechul quickly moved over to the chair, holding onto a pillow.
“Would you two like anything to eat?” Sometimes, Hankyung thought that his innate ‘niceness’ had to have come from his mother: only she would think of interrupting her son when he had a ‘girl’ in the room to make sure that they weren’t dying of starvation or something.
“No, thank you,” said Heechul, smiling at her from under his fringe, looking like the epitome of innocence and youth and ‘I haven’t done anything untoward with your son, like turn him gay’. His mother was invited in by that smile, to look at Hankyung sitting up on his bed, resting against the wall.
“You should really let Heechul have the bed,” said his mother disapprovingly.
“I asked,” said Hankyung casually, pausing the movie. “She said she was fine.”
His mother made an exasperated noise in her throat, and glanced at Heechul as if to say ‘men’. “I’m fine,” said Heechul pleasantly, still with that smile, and his mother smiled back, nodded, and left the room, returning the door to its previous state of not-quite-closed-but-certainly-not-open.
Heechul stood up and walked back over to the bed, and lay on his back on the bed, resting his head on Hankyung’s thigh. Hankyung didn’t play the movie straight away - instead, he ran his fingers through Heechul’s hair, thinking that he should perhaps invest in the same shampoo, because something was making it stupidly soft. He kept meeting air when he felt as though he should be touching hair. The new shortness had not quite caught up with him yet, and he felt as though he was in a perpetual state of amazement.
“Why did you do it?” He asked suddenly, and then winced when it came out almost disapproving. “I mean,” he said, feeling like he had to make up for that, “I thought you loved your hair.”
Heechul didn’t speak straight away, and Hankyung thought that he might have gone to sleep, but then he started playing with the frayed spot on the denim at Hankyung’s knees. “I don’t know,” he said after a while. “I guess I just wanted a change. It’s like you keep saying - I’m not a girl.”
“You never actually thought you were one,” said Hankyung mildly, because he knew that this was true. Heechul dressed both ways, whichever would be better looking for the situation, whichever made him more comfortable. For all his mannerisms and actions and tone of voice, for all his clothes and hair and the way he walked, Heechul was not a girl. He could fight and he stuck up for himself, and he didn’t need a knight in shining armour to come and whisk him away. He had grown out of that a long time ago.
“I wanted to become myself,” said Heechul quietly. “I want to become the person I could have been, without the loss of my sister and grandfather.”
“I’m not sure if there is another Heechul,” said Hankyung, still in that same mild tone of voice. “I think that you are what you are because that is what life has made you.”
Heechul was Heechul; Heechul kissed him like no one else, made him laugh like no one, smiled at him like no one else, made him sad like no one else, and made him feel things he wasn’t sure anyone else would make him feel, and it had gotten to the point where Hankyung didn’t want to see if anyone else could.
“I like my hair,” said Heechul defensively.
“I like your hair too,” said Hankyung, because he did. “I just thought you were having regrets about doing it.”
“I’m not,” said Heechul. “I just think it’s going to take some getting used to.”
“I’m sorry,” said Hankyung suddenly, and his fingertips brushed past the collar of Heechul’s cream jumper to touch his shoulder.
“What for?” Heechul asked, with a laugh. “Groping has never been a problem for you before, I don’t know why you’re apologising for it now.”
Hankyung’s hand jumped back as if it had been burnt and flattened itself against the white sheets on his bed, pressing into the mattress. “I’m not groping,” he said, and then added doubtfully, “Am I?”
“You do it all the time,” said Heechul, and as Hankyung jerked back slightly, he sat up and then leant back against Hankyung, resting his head on his shoulder. “Hannie,” he drawled into Hankyung’s ear, “don’t worry. If it had of been a problem, I’d have told you.”
“Don’t call me that,” said Hankyung in a discontented tone. “And stop trying to seduce me when I’m trying to be serious about something.”
“Serious is so boring,” said Heechul, but he pulled back and sat up, looking at Hankyung intently. Hankyung suddenly wished he hadn’t brought it up - there was something remarkably terrifying about a serious Heechul staring at you like that.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Yes,” said Heechul. “I got that bit.”
“I’m sorry, because I kept saying that you weren’t a girl and I think that you might have taken that as a slight on my part.”
“Don’t worry,” said Heechul again, and lay back down, and put his head back on Hankyung’s shoulder. “I didn’t take it like that. I took it as a confirmation of what I really am. You said I’m not a girl, and I’m not. You could easily have said, ‘you’re a boy’, but you didn’t, and I like to think that that proves something.”
Hankyung kissed him, and pulled him slightly to the side, until Heechul was kneeling on either side of Hankyung’s legs, his chest pressed up close, and Hankyung kept running his hands through Heechul’s hair and after a while he no longer hit the air; he learnt when the new end began. Heechul’s hands touched his hips softly, and his mouth brushed across Hankyung’s lips; jaw; neck; until he reached his collar bone and marked him. The sun went down, and when Heechul looked up at him, he could see the glint of the street light reflected in his eyes.
*
“I’m walking Heechul to the bus stop,” he shouted into the living room, half an hour later, picked up his coat and left before anyone could even attempt to stop him. It wasn’t late by any stretch of the imagination, just hitting eight thirty, but it was already dark and the streetlights lit their way to the bus stop, three streets down. It had turned cold, their breath coming out like dragon’s breath, and when Heechul began to shiver underneath his black jacket, Hankyung put an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close to walk beside him.
“You know, you could just give me your coat,” said Heechul grumpily. Hankyung had found that being cold made him like that, but everything made Heechul annoyed so he wasn’t particularly worried. “That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“It would also be the stupid thing to do,” said Hankyung. “Besides, I like it this way better.”
“Pervert,” hissed Heechul playfully.
“At least I’m clever enough to wear a coat,” said Hankyung mildly, refusing to rise to the bait.
“I hate you,” said Heechul, and started to brush his hair back from his face.
“That’s a shame,” said Hankyung, before he could stop himself, “because I love you.”
Heechul’s hands froze and he stopped and stared at Hankyung, who had gone quite white and felt suddenly very sick. “I-” He said, stopped, and then opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely at a loss. “It’s a saying?” He tried, and blinked very slowly.
“Yes,” said Heechul, and continued walking. “A saying.”
“A joke,” said Hankyung, and didn’t put his arm back around his shoulder. “I don’t - I mean, I’m not.” He stopped again, aware that he was babbling, and it remained like this until they reached the bus stop, the silence between them becoming more and more awkward and heavy until Hankyung felt as though he might break under it.
“Can we forget that I ever said that?” Hankyung asked, as they stood under the plastic roof that made no attempts to keep the cold out, his hands shoved into his pockets. Heechul still didn’t look at him and looked out at the road instead.
“If you want,” he said, his voice disinterested and unbothered, and Hankyung slumped back against the wall.
“You’re annoyed at me,” said Hankyung, and kicked at the floor. “I’m sorry if saying that annoyed you.”
“It didn’t annoy me,” said Heechul, pulling the collar of his jacket closer to his neck.
“Then I don’t know what I’m sorry for,” said Hankyung in exasperation. There was a little part of him that resented it when Heechul became like this; in his world that Hankyung couldn’t quite reach, a world where he walked on eggshells because he wasn’t too sure what the rules were.
Heechul turned to face him, and his eyes were doing that weird trick with the light, and for a second they were almost too dark, Hankyung couldn’t see anything and couldn’t seem to hold on to him, and so he stretched out an arm and snagged a hold of Heechul’s sleeve with his fingertips, and then Heechul’s arms were tight around his neck and he was kissing him desperately, their teeth clashing painfully as Hankyung pulled him closer by the hips, kissing until he was breathless and therefore couldn’t say stupid things like I love you.
“Don’t say it unless you really mean it,” said Heechul quietly as Hankyung’s mouth kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck. “Just, don’t. Please.”
“Okay,” murmured Hankyung and didn’t mention how he heard the silent desperation in Heechul’s voice.
The bus arrived; the bus left; Hankyung walked back to his house trying to smooth down his hair and trying to make sense of the blur that his head had become. He wanted nothing more than to go to his room and forget that he’d ever said something so awkwardly stupid, and remember instead the way Heechul looked with his eyes open and hands pressed to either side of Hankyung’s face. He was therefore shocked when his mother called him into the main room when he arrived, and he walked in to find that his father was also there and both were looking at him with stern expressions.
“I didn’t do it,” he joked, in an attempt to lighten what he saw as a heavy mood.
“I’m going to ask you something,” said his father, and folded his arms. “I want you to answer me truthfully.” Hankyung nodded and leant casually against the doorframe with his shoulder. “The boy who keeps coming over,” said his father, “the one who wears the skirts.”
“Heechul,” supplied his mother.
“Yes,” said his father. “Heechul. Are you going out with him?”
Hankyung’s shoulder slipped off his resting place and he stumbled forward a few steps, and then looked up to stare in shock at his parents, who looked amused at his reaction and didn’t seem quite so stern any more. “What?” He asked.
“It’s not a hard question,” said his father, and grinned at him.
“I’m not,” he said in despair. “I mean, why would you?” He kept stumbling over his words and was aware that everything he’d said was a half-sentence that made no sense whatsoever.
“Truthfully,” reminded his mother.
“Yes,” he said, sighing. “But I don’t understand how you know he’s a boy.”
“It’s obvious,” said his mother. Hankyung gaped at her.
“No, it isn’t,” he said. “I didn’t know until two months after I met him.”
“Sometimes I wonder why everyone says you take after me,” said his mother, shaking her head. “You’re clearly just as smart as your father.” The way she said this suggested that this wasn’t very smart at all.
“I didn’t know either,” explained his father. “Your mother had to tell me. He makes a remarkable girl.”
“I know,” said Hankyung, not actually paying total attention to what he was agreeing to, because he was in a strange sense of shock. If his parents had known all along, then he’d been lying for months, and they’d known that, and they weren’t angry about that, and strangest of all, they didn’t seem particularly bothered about Heechul being a boy.
“Heechul’s a boy,” he said.
“Yes, we know,” said his father in a fond tone of voice commonly used with five year olds.
“And you aren’t bothered about that?”
“Heechul’s a lovely boy,” said his mother happily. “He’s so polite.”
“No, he isn’t,” said Hankyung with a grin. “He’s really sarcastic and bitchy and he punches really hard and you can never wake him up and he’s got this smirk instead of a normal smile.” And I think I might be in love with him.
“He’s nice enough to me,” said his mother with a frown.
“That’s because he likes you,” said Hankyung. “You help him to embarrass me.”
“How long have you been going out?” His mother seemed to want all the details, and if he was perfectly honest, Hankyung was slightly confused and out of sorts because this wasn’t how he’d expected to tell his parents. This was his excuse for his honest answers.
“Since I went away with my friends over the summer,” said Hankyung, and perched on the arm of the nearest sofa, feeling as though he might be there for the long haul.
“That’s three months,” said his mother. “I met Heechul a long time before that.”
“That was when I first found out when Heechul was a boy,” said Hankyung and was glad when his mother nodded and didn’t ask for any elaboration on that subject.
“Have you met his parents yet?” His father joined in the questioning and Hankyung glanced at him and wondered if this was what was meant by ‘the third degree’.
“No,” he said.
“Don’t you think you should?” His father asked, with a slight frown. “If you’ve been going out for so long.”
Hankyung shrugged. “If Heechul wants me to meet them, he’ll ask me to,” he said, because it was the truth, even his parents didn’t quite know it.
“We weren’t going to ask you about it,” said his mother, “not until you told us about it.” She stood up and walked over to Hankyung and smoothed his fringe back, and hugged him. “I heard you talking before, just after I came in to see if you wanted anything to eat. I’m sorry to say that I stood by the door and listened. I’m sorry about that.” Hankyung shook his head; he didn’t feel he could blame his mother for doing that. “I realised that it was quite serious, and not the teenage fling like most, and we wanted to know more.”
Hankyung thought about the way Heechul had kissed him in the bus stop, the way he’d hugged him goodbye, his hands sliding over the skin on his neck and the way he’d glanced back, just before he got on the bus, to smile, genuinely, something that made Hankyung’s stomach twist painfully.
“Yeah,” he said, and took hold of his mother’s hand. “Yeah, it is pretty serious.”
Chapter: 16/25
Fandom: Super Junior AU (High School)
Pairing: Hankyung/crossdressing!Heechul (main), Kangin/Eeteuk, Kibum/Donghae, Yehsung/Ryeowook, Kyuhyun/Sungmin, bestfriends!Eunhae.
Word count: 3,352
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Coming into a strange new world can be strange enough. Unfortunately, someone’s forgotten to tell Hankyung something Very Important.
A/N: Again, a chapter that seemed hard when I was writing it. This and chapter 17 were really hard, and then chapter 19 just seemed to write itself, and I don't know how I managed that.
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17
Heechul arrived at his door at seven o’clock wearing the much-anticipated skirt; a pink linen, knee-length one, that he’d bought while out with Hankyung two weeks earlier. “Hi,” said Hankyung, grinned, and let Heechul in, holding the door open as Heechul ducked under his arm. He had taken to waiting in the main room for the knock on the door, and volunteering to get it, in order to avoid any unwanted situations.
“Who is it?” His mother called from the other room, before Hankyung could bundle Heechul upstairs, and Heechul smirked at him, and made Hankyung let him into the main room.
“It’s Heechul,” said Hankyung, and his father raised his eyebrows in that way that he did every time Heechul came over.
“Hello,” said Heechul cheerfully, and bowed slightly in respect. Hankyung was always shocked by how polite he could be if he wanted.
Hankyung had not told his parents that he was dating Heechul, because he felt like it would bring up awkward questions that he would be unable to answer. Heechul seemed to understand how he felt about this and didn’t mention anything specific in front of his parents, but he had taken to calling him “oppa”, and insisted on talking his parents if he got the chance.
“Hello,” said his mother, and smiled at Heechul. His mother appeared to like Heechul, judging by the way she was perfectly happy to talk to her whenever there was a chance, and sometimes tried to come into Hankyung’s room when they were together. Hankyung had taken to locking the door, although he was aware that this could imply a lot more than he wanted to imply. “Would you like something to eat or drink, dear?”
“No, thank you,” said Heechul with a smile. “I’ve just eaten.”
Hankyung’s father gave Hankyung a knowing look. His father was under the wrong impression that he knew exactly why Heechul kept coming over, and that was because she was Hankyung’s girlfriend that Hankyung was keeping a secret; or so he’d announced over dinner the day after Heechul’s second visit. Hankyung had choked on his mouthful of rice and spluttered a long list of protests, claiming that Heechul was just a friend and someone who came over to study with him. His father had laughed at him, and his mother had given him a funny look.
“I like your hair, Heechul,” said his mother, who had an eye for these things. “Have you had it cut?”
“Yeah,” said Heechul, and fiddled with the tips of it. “I had it done on Saturday, I’m not quite used to it yet.”
“It looks very nice,” said his father, in a round-about compliment. He turned to Hankyung and grinned at him. “Doesn’t it look nice, Hankyung?”
“Um,” said Hankyung, and now even Heechul was staring at him for an answer. “Yes?” He tried, and made an exasperated noise when Heechul frowned at him. “Look,” he said to him. “You’ve been fishing for compliments all day. If I hear Siwon say that you still look like a princess one more time, I’ll kill both you and him. Now, can we go please?” Hankyung took hold of his wrist. “Are you quite finished embarrassing me?”
“I would never be finished doing that, oppa,” said Heechul in an innocent voice, but allowed himself to be dragged out of the room nonetheless. Hankyung missed the amused glance his parents sent each other.
“What film did you bring?” Hankyung asked, when they were safely in his room. He half-closed the door; enough to block the bed from view, but not enough to block out the sounds of someone coming up the stairs.
“That one that no one would watch,” replied Heechul, kneeling on his bed to push the DVD into the player. “That first time you were at Eeteuk’s place, remember?”
Hankyung did remember, but he was fairly certain that what he remembered was not what Heechul remembered. Hankyung remembered a lost feeling as Heechul’s hair brushed on his arm as he slept. “The night you punched me?” He asked, and sat down on the bed.
“Yes,” said Heechul, and still did not apologise for it.
“Okay,” said Hankyung.
“It’s good,” said Heechul, and Hankyung knew that that translated as ‘scary’. “It’s not gory, mind, just full of suspense.”
“My favourite type of film,” said Hankyung sarcastically, and Heechul lay down beside him in the bed and Hankyung wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed the play button with the other one.
Heechul had been right when he’d said that the film was good, or at least, by his interpretation of good. Heechul was enthralled; Hankyung couldn’t tell you what the film had been about because he had his face buried in Heechul’s hair to block out the images. Yet, for Hankyung, the scariest part was when he heard his mother coming up the stairs and they jumped apart and Heechul quickly moved over to the chair, holding onto a pillow.
“Would you two like anything to eat?” Sometimes, Hankyung thought that his innate ‘niceness’ had to have come from his mother: only she would think of interrupting her son when he had a ‘girl’ in the room to make sure that they weren’t dying of starvation or something.
“No, thank you,” said Heechul, smiling at her from under his fringe, looking like the epitome of innocence and youth and ‘I haven’t done anything untoward with your son, like turn him gay’. His mother was invited in by that smile, to look at Hankyung sitting up on his bed, resting against the wall.
“You should really let Heechul have the bed,” said his mother disapprovingly.
“I asked,” said Hankyung casually, pausing the movie. “She said she was fine.”
His mother made an exasperated noise in her throat, and glanced at Heechul as if to say ‘men’. “I’m fine,” said Heechul pleasantly, still with that smile, and his mother smiled back, nodded, and left the room, returning the door to its previous state of not-quite-closed-but-certainly-not-open.
Heechul stood up and walked back over to the bed, and lay on his back on the bed, resting his head on Hankyung’s thigh. Hankyung didn’t play the movie straight away - instead, he ran his fingers through Heechul’s hair, thinking that he should perhaps invest in the same shampoo, because something was making it stupidly soft. He kept meeting air when he felt as though he should be touching hair. The new shortness had not quite caught up with him yet, and he felt as though he was in a perpetual state of amazement.
“Why did you do it?” He asked suddenly, and then winced when it came out almost disapproving. “I mean,” he said, feeling like he had to make up for that, “I thought you loved your hair.”
Heechul didn’t speak straight away, and Hankyung thought that he might have gone to sleep, but then he started playing with the frayed spot on the denim at Hankyung’s knees. “I don’t know,” he said after a while. “I guess I just wanted a change. It’s like you keep saying - I’m not a girl.”
“You never actually thought you were one,” said Hankyung mildly, because he knew that this was true. Heechul dressed both ways, whichever would be better looking for the situation, whichever made him more comfortable. For all his mannerisms and actions and tone of voice, for all his clothes and hair and the way he walked, Heechul was not a girl. He could fight and he stuck up for himself, and he didn’t need a knight in shining armour to come and whisk him away. He had grown out of that a long time ago.
“I wanted to become myself,” said Heechul quietly. “I want to become the person I could have been, without the loss of my sister and grandfather.”
“I’m not sure if there is another Heechul,” said Hankyung, still in that same mild tone of voice. “I think that you are what you are because that is what life has made you.”
Heechul was Heechul; Heechul kissed him like no one else, made him laugh like no one, smiled at him like no one else, made him sad like no one else, and made him feel things he wasn’t sure anyone else would make him feel, and it had gotten to the point where Hankyung didn’t want to see if anyone else could.
“I like my hair,” said Heechul defensively.
“I like your hair too,” said Hankyung, because he did. “I just thought you were having regrets about doing it.”
“I’m not,” said Heechul. “I just think it’s going to take some getting used to.”
“I’m sorry,” said Hankyung suddenly, and his fingertips brushed past the collar of Heechul’s cream jumper to touch his shoulder.
“What for?” Heechul asked, with a laugh. “Groping has never been a problem for you before, I don’t know why you’re apologising for it now.”
Hankyung’s hand jumped back as if it had been burnt and flattened itself against the white sheets on his bed, pressing into the mattress. “I’m not groping,” he said, and then added doubtfully, “Am I?”
“You do it all the time,” said Heechul, and as Hankyung jerked back slightly, he sat up and then leant back against Hankyung, resting his head on his shoulder. “Hannie,” he drawled into Hankyung’s ear, “don’t worry. If it had of been a problem, I’d have told you.”
“Don’t call me that,” said Hankyung in a discontented tone. “And stop trying to seduce me when I’m trying to be serious about something.”
“Serious is so boring,” said Heechul, but he pulled back and sat up, looking at Hankyung intently. Hankyung suddenly wished he hadn’t brought it up - there was something remarkably terrifying about a serious Heechul staring at you like that.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Yes,” said Heechul. “I got that bit.”
“I’m sorry, because I kept saying that you weren’t a girl and I think that you might have taken that as a slight on my part.”
“Don’t worry,” said Heechul again, and lay back down, and put his head back on Hankyung’s shoulder. “I didn’t take it like that. I took it as a confirmation of what I really am. You said I’m not a girl, and I’m not. You could easily have said, ‘you’re a boy’, but you didn’t, and I like to think that that proves something.”
Hankyung kissed him, and pulled him slightly to the side, until Heechul was kneeling on either side of Hankyung’s legs, his chest pressed up close, and Hankyung kept running his hands through Heechul’s hair and after a while he no longer hit the air; he learnt when the new end began. Heechul’s hands touched his hips softly, and his mouth brushed across Hankyung’s lips; jaw; neck; until he reached his collar bone and marked him. The sun went down, and when Heechul looked up at him, he could see the glint of the street light reflected in his eyes.
*
“I’m walking Heechul to the bus stop,” he shouted into the living room, half an hour later, picked up his coat and left before anyone could even attempt to stop him. It wasn’t late by any stretch of the imagination, just hitting eight thirty, but it was already dark and the streetlights lit their way to the bus stop, three streets down. It had turned cold, their breath coming out like dragon’s breath, and when Heechul began to shiver underneath his black jacket, Hankyung put an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close to walk beside him.
“You know, you could just give me your coat,” said Heechul grumpily. Hankyung had found that being cold made him like that, but everything made Heechul annoyed so he wasn’t particularly worried. “That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“It would also be the stupid thing to do,” said Hankyung. “Besides, I like it this way better.”
“Pervert,” hissed Heechul playfully.
“At least I’m clever enough to wear a coat,” said Hankyung mildly, refusing to rise to the bait.
“I hate you,” said Heechul, and started to brush his hair back from his face.
“That’s a shame,” said Hankyung, before he could stop himself, “because I love you.”
Heechul’s hands froze and he stopped and stared at Hankyung, who had gone quite white and felt suddenly very sick. “I-” He said, stopped, and then opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely at a loss. “It’s a saying?” He tried, and blinked very slowly.
“Yes,” said Heechul, and continued walking. “A saying.”
“A joke,” said Hankyung, and didn’t put his arm back around his shoulder. “I don’t - I mean, I’m not.” He stopped again, aware that he was babbling, and it remained like this until they reached the bus stop, the silence between them becoming more and more awkward and heavy until Hankyung felt as though he might break under it.
“Can we forget that I ever said that?” Hankyung asked, as they stood under the plastic roof that made no attempts to keep the cold out, his hands shoved into his pockets. Heechul still didn’t look at him and looked out at the road instead.
“If you want,” he said, his voice disinterested and unbothered, and Hankyung slumped back against the wall.
“You’re annoyed at me,” said Hankyung, and kicked at the floor. “I’m sorry if saying that annoyed you.”
“It didn’t annoy me,” said Heechul, pulling the collar of his jacket closer to his neck.
“Then I don’t know what I’m sorry for,” said Hankyung in exasperation. There was a little part of him that resented it when Heechul became like this; in his world that Hankyung couldn’t quite reach, a world where he walked on eggshells because he wasn’t too sure what the rules were.
Heechul turned to face him, and his eyes were doing that weird trick with the light, and for a second they were almost too dark, Hankyung couldn’t see anything and couldn’t seem to hold on to him, and so he stretched out an arm and snagged a hold of Heechul’s sleeve with his fingertips, and then Heechul’s arms were tight around his neck and he was kissing him desperately, their teeth clashing painfully as Hankyung pulled him closer by the hips, kissing until he was breathless and therefore couldn’t say stupid things like I love you.
“Don’t say it unless you really mean it,” said Heechul quietly as Hankyung’s mouth kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck. “Just, don’t. Please.”
“Okay,” murmured Hankyung and didn’t mention how he heard the silent desperation in Heechul’s voice.
The bus arrived; the bus left; Hankyung walked back to his house trying to smooth down his hair and trying to make sense of the blur that his head had become. He wanted nothing more than to go to his room and forget that he’d ever said something so awkwardly stupid, and remember instead the way Heechul looked with his eyes open and hands pressed to either side of Hankyung’s face. He was therefore shocked when his mother called him into the main room when he arrived, and he walked in to find that his father was also there and both were looking at him with stern expressions.
“I didn’t do it,” he joked, in an attempt to lighten what he saw as a heavy mood.
“I’m going to ask you something,” said his father, and folded his arms. “I want you to answer me truthfully.” Hankyung nodded and leant casually against the doorframe with his shoulder. “The boy who keeps coming over,” said his father, “the one who wears the skirts.”
“Heechul,” supplied his mother.
“Yes,” said his father. “Heechul. Are you going out with him?”
Hankyung’s shoulder slipped off his resting place and he stumbled forward a few steps, and then looked up to stare in shock at his parents, who looked amused at his reaction and didn’t seem quite so stern any more. “What?” He asked.
“It’s not a hard question,” said his father, and grinned at him.
“I’m not,” he said in despair. “I mean, why would you?” He kept stumbling over his words and was aware that everything he’d said was a half-sentence that made no sense whatsoever.
“Truthfully,” reminded his mother.
“Yes,” he said, sighing. “But I don’t understand how you know he’s a boy.”
“It’s obvious,” said his mother. Hankyung gaped at her.
“No, it isn’t,” he said. “I didn’t know until two months after I met him.”
“Sometimes I wonder why everyone says you take after me,” said his mother, shaking her head. “You’re clearly just as smart as your father.” The way she said this suggested that this wasn’t very smart at all.
“I didn’t know either,” explained his father. “Your mother had to tell me. He makes a remarkable girl.”
“I know,” said Hankyung, not actually paying total attention to what he was agreeing to, because he was in a strange sense of shock. If his parents had known all along, then he’d been lying for months, and they’d known that, and they weren’t angry about that, and strangest of all, they didn’t seem particularly bothered about Heechul being a boy.
“Heechul’s a boy,” he said.
“Yes, we know,” said his father in a fond tone of voice commonly used with five year olds.
“And you aren’t bothered about that?”
“Heechul’s a lovely boy,” said his mother happily. “He’s so polite.”
“No, he isn’t,” said Hankyung with a grin. “He’s really sarcastic and bitchy and he punches really hard and you can never wake him up and he’s got this smirk instead of a normal smile.” And I think I might be in love with him.
“He’s nice enough to me,” said his mother with a frown.
“That’s because he likes you,” said Hankyung. “You help him to embarrass me.”
“How long have you been going out?” His mother seemed to want all the details, and if he was perfectly honest, Hankyung was slightly confused and out of sorts because this wasn’t how he’d expected to tell his parents. This was his excuse for his honest answers.
“Since I went away with my friends over the summer,” said Hankyung, and perched on the arm of the nearest sofa, feeling as though he might be there for the long haul.
“That’s three months,” said his mother. “I met Heechul a long time before that.”
“That was when I first found out when Heechul was a boy,” said Hankyung and was glad when his mother nodded and didn’t ask for any elaboration on that subject.
“Have you met his parents yet?” His father joined in the questioning and Hankyung glanced at him and wondered if this was what was meant by ‘the third degree’.
“No,” he said.
“Don’t you think you should?” His father asked, with a slight frown. “If you’ve been going out for so long.”
Hankyung shrugged. “If Heechul wants me to meet them, he’ll ask me to,” he said, because it was the truth, even his parents didn’t quite know it.
“We weren’t going to ask you about it,” said his mother, “not until you told us about it.” She stood up and walked over to Hankyung and smoothed his fringe back, and hugged him. “I heard you talking before, just after I came in to see if you wanted anything to eat. I’m sorry to say that I stood by the door and listened. I’m sorry about that.” Hankyung shook his head; he didn’t feel he could blame his mother for doing that. “I realised that it was quite serious, and not the teenage fling like most, and we wanted to know more.”
Hankyung thought about the way Heechul had kissed him in the bus stop, the way he’d hugged him goodbye, his hands sliding over the skin on his neck and the way he’d glanced back, just before he got on the bus, to smile, genuinely, something that made Hankyung’s stomach twist painfully.
“Yeah,” he said, and took hold of his mother’s hand. “Yeah, it is pretty serious.”