working it out
working it out
siwan/kwanghee
2405 words
When Kwanghee leaves, Siwan doesn't say a word, just stands there and watches him go.
working it out
do you wanna fight? wanna say good night?
if you tell me you want it, this could be over.
- 2 in the morning (new kids on the block)
When Kwanghee leaves, Siwan doesn't say a word, just stands there and watches him go. He spends the night drifting around the apartment, scouring it for anything Kwanghee might have missed. He isn't sure why, though, isn't sure if he's trying to cleanse the place of any trace of their memories left behind, or if he's simply looking for an excuse to see Kwanghee again. Either way, Siwan doesn't find anything, which is surprising, considering the way Kwanghee had used to lose all his things.
Siwan wakes up in the middle of the night, fingers closing around thin air. Then he remembers that Kwanghee isn't here anymore, that after the years spent fighting for this, Kwanghee has simply given up. And then Siwan doesn't know if he should laugh or cry at the ridiculousness of the situation, so he ends up curling into a ball and praying for morning to come.
In the morning, the first thing he does is to check his phone for messages, missed calls, any sign that Kwanghee has been thinking of him. All he gets is a message from Minwoo asking what happened, and Siwan quirks the corners of his lips upwards. He swings his legs off the bed, walking to the kitchen to get a cup of water. The sky is a clear strip of grey outside, which makes Siwan miss the warmth of Kwanghee's touch and the brightness of his smile.
Strange, since Siwan had spent years pushing Kwanghee off of him, years nagging at Kwanghee to stop coming too near, years flinching away from Kwanghee's embrace. Things have changed, Siwan tells himself, and it's probably retribution that for once, he's the one waiting for Kwanghee to give him a sign - any sign at all - that he still belongs to him.
"Where are you," Siwan says out loud. A bird flutters to land on the window sill, singing a song, and Siwan wonders if somewhere in another corner of Seoul, Kwanghee is thinking of him.
-
Junyoung visits a few days later. He doesn't question Siwan or demand an explanation, just heads straight for the couch and waits expectantly for Siwan to come over.
"How is he," Siwan says, sitting down beside Junyoung.
Junyoung glances at him. "Why would you think I'd know?"
Siwan shrugs, running a finger through his hair. "You're the closest to him after all," he says. No matter how long he and Kwanghee had called themselves best friends, there's no denying the fact that Junyoung and Kwanghee had known each other first.
"Besides you," Junyoung says, and Siwan turns away, a sickening sensation blooming in his heart. "But yeah, he's fine."
"He's fine," Siwan repeats, somewhat relieved. "Do you - do you know where he is at right now?"
Junyoung's eyes are filled with something close to sympathy, and Siwan swallows. He doesn't need pity, doesn't need this, doesn't need people thinking that he's an idiot for letting something so precious go.
"I do," Junyoung admits. "But he told me not to tell you."
Siwan nods. Kwanghee has always been stubborn about the most ridiculous things, like shampoo brands and the color of his socks, and he's used to taking all the random crap Kwanghee flings at him. What Kwanghee wants, he'll get (just like how he'd stolen Siwan's heart all those years ago) - Junyoung won't tell Siwan anything more than Kwanghee allows.
"Okay," Siwan says. He locks his fingers together in his lap. "Okay."
Junyoung leans forward, places a hand on Siwan's shoulder. "It'll be fine," he promises. "You know how he goes crazy once in a while."
The thing is, Siwan thinks. The thing is, he's always been crazy, but at least at the same time, he'd been crazy about me. Siwan hates this, hates feeling insignificant, hates feeling like he's been thrown away and abandoned.
"I know," Siwan echoes. Junyoung offers him a warm smile, and Siwan tries his best to mirror it, but he isn't so sure if it'd worked because there is a trace of worry lining Junyoung's features. "I'll be okay."
"You sure?"
Siwan can't seem to choke an answer out, so he just nods mutely. When Junyoung leaves, the apartment is stiflingly silent once more, and Siwan just folds himself back into the couch and watches the time pass.
-
It takes one week for Siwan to snap. He's always enjoyed time alone, but this time the silence is overwhelming, and so he slings his violin case over his shoulder and heads for the park. At close to midnight, there is barely anyone, save for some couples taking a stroll, hand in hand.
Siwan is playing his fourth song (untitled, something he'd written with Kwanghee stretched out languidly on the bed beside him fiddling with his iPod and thought about spending forever with this boy) when his ringtone slices through the cool night air. Siwan tugs it out of his jeans pocket, and nearly chokes when he sees Kwanghee flashing on the screen.
"Hello?" Siwan says. His voice quivers a little, and his bow slips in his hand, grip slick with sweat.
"Siwannie," Kwanghee breathes, and it's been so fucking long since Siwan has heard his voice that he feels a little light-headed, a little too full with giddiness. "Where are you?"
"At the park." A pause. "Why?"
"Oh," Kwanghee says, and then he's slurring out a bunch of words that has Siwan furrowing his brows in concentration as he attempts to string Kwanghee's sentence together.
Kwanghee's voice trails off, and Siwan sighs. "You're drunk," he tells Kwanghee, matter-of-fact. "Where are you? Is Junyoung with you?"
"Junyoung," Kwanghee says. "Junyoung is awful, Siwan, he won't make me breakfast in the morning, that lazy ass."
Siwan nearly laughs, but he's still worried. Kwanghee has always been insane, but he's ridiculously fragile when he's drunk, too simple-minded and raw to keep himself safe from harm. "Kwanghee," he says. "Tell me where you're at."
Kwanghee mumbles something that is impossible to decipher, and Siwan sandwiches his phone between his shoulder and ear as he packs his violin back into its case. "What?"
"Home," Kwanghee says, louder this time. "I'm at home."
"What home?"
"Waiting for you," Kwanghee tells him, and no, it's not really answering the question, but Siwan starts running anyway.
-
Sure enough, Kwanghee is sitting on the doorstep wearing a blank expression. "You have the keys," Siwan points out. "Want to go in?" Kwanghee doesn't budge, so Siwan sighs and sits down beside him.
It's been a little over a week since he's last seen Kwanghee, and he's gotten slightly skinnier, his cheekbones sharper. Siwan hesitates before reaching out to brush the hair out of Kwanghee's eyes - it's not like Kwanghee would remember in the morning anyway.
Kwanghee leans into the touch, and Siwan moves his hand downwards to cup Kwanghee's cheek. "You're an idiot," Siwan says, the pang in his chest a strange mix of want and determination. "Why'd you come back?"
Kwanghee's eyes are strangely cloudy, but they still curve into those familiar half-moon shapes when he smiles. "I missed you," he tells Siwan. "Missed you so much."
Siwan's eyes sting a little, even though he's never been much of a crier - he's used to analyzing things, to sorting them out, to solve problems instead of crying over them. But Hwang Kwanghee has always been a question Siwan has never been able to work out; try as he might, Siwan can never determine if that tilt of Kwanghee's head means that he's confused or annoyed, or if he really means it when he walks out of their apartment, luggage in hand, saying Siwannie maybe we need some space maybe a break will be better off for both of us.
"Did you?" Siwan asks quietly.
Kwanghee nods, reaching out to twist his fingers against Siwan's. "Sorry," he says, leaning over to press his forehead against Siwan's. Siwan lets his eyes slip shut, all the while thinking about how everyone has gotten it wrong - it's not about not knowing what you had before you lost it, it's about knowing all along that you had it, but you just simply never expected that you'd lose it.
-
"My head hurts like fuck," Kwanghee says conversationally.
Siwan squints, sitting up on the couch. "You're awake," he says, stating the obvious. "And you don't -"
"Remember a thing," Kwanghee finishes. He edges into the tiny space beside Siwan, pressing clammy fingers onto Siwan's knee. "But hi, good morning."
Siwan shifts over to give Kwanghee more space, but he still refuses to let go, and the physical contact sends electricity jolting through Siwan's veins. "Had a good sleep?" Siwan asks dryly.
Kwanghee hums in agreement. "Sorry for making you sleep on the couch," he says, but there's too much cheer in his voice for him to sound apologetic. "You could have just slept beside me, you know."
Siwan flushes. "You're the one who wanted space," he snaps, pushing Kwanghee's hands off his leg. "So what, you're taking back your words now?" He gets up, heading for the kitchen, his heart thumping erratically under the web of his ribs - it's unfair, really, how Kwanghee never fails to throw his life into disarray.
"Siwan," Kwanghee whines, and okay, it's really unfair now, how Kwanghee can be so shameless and act like nothing's ever happened, how it's as if Siwan was supposed to be stuck here waiting for Kwanghee to return, how -
Kwanghee's fingers curl around Siwan's elbow, grip firm enough to startle Siwan into turning around, but light enough not to hurt. "Siwan," Kwanghee repeats, and now he looks so earnest that all of Siwan's petty retorts dissolve into the air, his eyes wide and unblinking and star-like.
"Kwanghee," Siwan says in answer. "Just. Tell me something."
"What?" Kwanghee asks, running his hand along the underside of Siwan's arm. Siwan shivers, but doesn't pull away.
"Tell me," Siwan says, heart tumbling in his chest, bile rising up in his throat; he's scared, so fucking scared that he won't get the answer he wants, scared that Kwanghee will walk out for the second time, scared of feeling like this. "Do you even love me?"
The moment the words spill out of his mouth, pouring into the space between them and bridging the distance, Siwan regrets it. He sounds like a needy teenage girl clinging onto her boyfriend, and this isn't like Im Siwan, not at all. Unfair, yet again, so completely unfair how Kwanghee can make him throw his image away like this.
Not that Kwanghee isn't worth it, Siwan finds himself thinking, and is startled to realize that it's the truth. Kwanghee is strangely beautiful like this, lips curving upwards, hands as warm as the most comfortable summer sunshine, and Siwan swallows. He can't even pinpoint when exactly he'd begun the slow slide for Kwanghee - he'd just woken up one day to realize that as much as he was annoyed by Kwanghee's childishness, by his complete lack of thinking, he was worried. He cared. And as much as he hadn't meant to, as much as he hadn't expected it -
"Why are you even asking this question?" Kwanghee says bluntly. He unropes his fingers from Siwan's upper arm, reaching out instead to trace the curve of Siwan's jaw. "Sometimes you can be so stupid, Siwan-ah."
Siwan's heart stutters in reply. "But what was that about space?"
Kwanghee shrugs, hand falling back to his side. "I just wanted you to decide for yourself," he says.
"Decide what?"
"If you made the right decision," Kwanghee says, so simply Siwan forgets how to breathe. "If you're really sure about me."
One-track mind, Siwan remembers Junyoung describing Kwanghee once, and Siwan stares at Kwanghee blankly. "So," Siwan says. "You didn't actually want to leave?"
"You seemed kind of annoyed by me hanging around all the time," Kwanghee points out. "So I took a little vacation in Junyoung's house. I told you, it was just a break."
"You were at Junyoung's house," Siwan repeats, narrowing his eyes. "Wait, it was literally a break? I thought -"
"That I was breaking up with you?" Kwanghee says, a grin splitting his face. "Like I would. Haven't you even been paying attention for the past, I don't know, six years?"
Six years of Kwanghee following him around, of Kwanghee pressing kisses against his cheek whenever he can, of Kwanghee tangling fingers with him so often he can't bring himself to flinch away. After six years, Siwan should think he'd be desensitized already, but right now, when Kwanghee beams and slings an arm over Siwan's shoulder, his heart still skips a beat.
"But anyway," Kwanghee continues. "A break is a break. And I'm back."
Siwan swats Kwanghee's arm off, his face burning. "Your stuff -"
"Junyoung's bringing them over later," Kwanghee says cheerily. "So anyway, Siwannie, did you miss me while I was gone?"
Siwan can lie - God knows he's lied to Kwanghee about a thousand times before, lied to himself, lied to his heart, but today he catches the expectancy and tangible want in Kwanghee's eyes and thinks that maybe, it's time for him to be honest.
"I did," Siwan admits, watching Kwanghee's entire face light up with undiluted happiness. "I didn't think I would, but I did, so." Siwan coughs, taking a step back uncomfortably. "Yeah."
When Kwanghee throws his arms around him, Siwan half-laughs into the warmth of his shoulder, then closes his eyes and lets himself heal.
-
"Sorry, hyung," Junyoung says, handing Kwanghee his luggage. "But Kwanghee-hyung told me not to say anything."
"I know," Siwan says, smacking Kwanghee's head. He yelps, and Siwan smiles. "But thanks for taking care of him, anyway."
Kwanghee snorts. "Taking care is a serious understatement, just so you know," he complains. "All he did for me was basically provide me with a roof over my head, I swear."
Siwan glares at him. "At least he didn't kick you out to let you sleep on the road," he points out.
Kwanghee scowls, and Junyoung grins. "Bye," he says, waving. The moment the door shuts, Kwanghee irons out his pout, eyes curving once more.
Siwan shakes his head, arms crossed. "You're a terrible hyung, you know."
Kwanghee shrugs, says, "It's okay, he still loves me."
"Yeah, I have no idea why anyone would," Siwan retorts.
And then Kwanghee's grin is widening as he presses closer and says you really have no idea sure about that Siwannie, and Siwan just curls his fingers around the soft fabric of Kwanghee's T-shirt and laughs.
siwan/kwanghee
2405 words
When Kwanghee leaves, Siwan doesn't say a word, just stands there and watches him go.
working it out
do you wanna fight? wanna say good night?
if you tell me you want it, this could be over.
- 2 in the morning (new kids on the block)
When Kwanghee leaves, Siwan doesn't say a word, just stands there and watches him go. He spends the night drifting around the apartment, scouring it for anything Kwanghee might have missed. He isn't sure why, though, isn't sure if he's trying to cleanse the place of any trace of their memories left behind, or if he's simply looking for an excuse to see Kwanghee again. Either way, Siwan doesn't find anything, which is surprising, considering the way Kwanghee had used to lose all his things.
Siwan wakes up in the middle of the night, fingers closing around thin air. Then he remembers that Kwanghee isn't here anymore, that after the years spent fighting for this, Kwanghee has simply given up. And then Siwan doesn't know if he should laugh or cry at the ridiculousness of the situation, so he ends up curling into a ball and praying for morning to come.
In the morning, the first thing he does is to check his phone for messages, missed calls, any sign that Kwanghee has been thinking of him. All he gets is a message from Minwoo asking what happened, and Siwan quirks the corners of his lips upwards. He swings his legs off the bed, walking to the kitchen to get a cup of water. The sky is a clear strip of grey outside, which makes Siwan miss the warmth of Kwanghee's touch and the brightness of his smile.
Strange, since Siwan had spent years pushing Kwanghee off of him, years nagging at Kwanghee to stop coming too near, years flinching away from Kwanghee's embrace. Things have changed, Siwan tells himself, and it's probably retribution that for once, he's the one waiting for Kwanghee to give him a sign - any sign at all - that he still belongs to him.
"Where are you," Siwan says out loud. A bird flutters to land on the window sill, singing a song, and Siwan wonders if somewhere in another corner of Seoul, Kwanghee is thinking of him.
-
Junyoung visits a few days later. He doesn't question Siwan or demand an explanation, just heads straight for the couch and waits expectantly for Siwan to come over.
"How is he," Siwan says, sitting down beside Junyoung.
Junyoung glances at him. "Why would you think I'd know?"
Siwan shrugs, running a finger through his hair. "You're the closest to him after all," he says. No matter how long he and Kwanghee had called themselves best friends, there's no denying the fact that Junyoung and Kwanghee had known each other first.
"Besides you," Junyoung says, and Siwan turns away, a sickening sensation blooming in his heart. "But yeah, he's fine."
"He's fine," Siwan repeats, somewhat relieved. "Do you - do you know where he is at right now?"
Junyoung's eyes are filled with something close to sympathy, and Siwan swallows. He doesn't need pity, doesn't need this, doesn't need people thinking that he's an idiot for letting something so precious go.
"I do," Junyoung admits. "But he told me not to tell you."
Siwan nods. Kwanghee has always been stubborn about the most ridiculous things, like shampoo brands and the color of his socks, and he's used to taking all the random crap Kwanghee flings at him. What Kwanghee wants, he'll get (just like how he'd stolen Siwan's heart all those years ago) - Junyoung won't tell Siwan anything more than Kwanghee allows.
"Okay," Siwan says. He locks his fingers together in his lap. "Okay."
Junyoung leans forward, places a hand on Siwan's shoulder. "It'll be fine," he promises. "You know how he goes crazy once in a while."
The thing is, Siwan thinks. The thing is, he's always been crazy, but at least at the same time, he'd been crazy about me. Siwan hates this, hates feeling insignificant, hates feeling like he's been thrown away and abandoned.
"I know," Siwan echoes. Junyoung offers him a warm smile, and Siwan tries his best to mirror it, but he isn't so sure if it'd worked because there is a trace of worry lining Junyoung's features. "I'll be okay."
"You sure?"
Siwan can't seem to choke an answer out, so he just nods mutely. When Junyoung leaves, the apartment is stiflingly silent once more, and Siwan just folds himself back into the couch and watches the time pass.
-
It takes one week for Siwan to snap. He's always enjoyed time alone, but this time the silence is overwhelming, and so he slings his violin case over his shoulder and heads for the park. At close to midnight, there is barely anyone, save for some couples taking a stroll, hand in hand.
Siwan is playing his fourth song (untitled, something he'd written with Kwanghee stretched out languidly on the bed beside him fiddling with his iPod and thought about spending forever with this boy) when his ringtone slices through the cool night air. Siwan tugs it out of his jeans pocket, and nearly chokes when he sees Kwanghee flashing on the screen.
"Hello?" Siwan says. His voice quivers a little, and his bow slips in his hand, grip slick with sweat.
"Siwannie," Kwanghee breathes, and it's been so fucking long since Siwan has heard his voice that he feels a little light-headed, a little too full with giddiness. "Where are you?"
"At the park." A pause. "Why?"
"Oh," Kwanghee says, and then he's slurring out a bunch of words that has Siwan furrowing his brows in concentration as he attempts to string Kwanghee's sentence together.
Kwanghee's voice trails off, and Siwan sighs. "You're drunk," he tells Kwanghee, matter-of-fact. "Where are you? Is Junyoung with you?"
"Junyoung," Kwanghee says. "Junyoung is awful, Siwan, he won't make me breakfast in the morning, that lazy ass."
Siwan nearly laughs, but he's still worried. Kwanghee has always been insane, but he's ridiculously fragile when he's drunk, too simple-minded and raw to keep himself safe from harm. "Kwanghee," he says. "Tell me where you're at."
Kwanghee mumbles something that is impossible to decipher, and Siwan sandwiches his phone between his shoulder and ear as he packs his violin back into its case. "What?"
"Home," Kwanghee says, louder this time. "I'm at home."
"What home?"
"Waiting for you," Kwanghee tells him, and no, it's not really answering the question, but Siwan starts running anyway.
-
Sure enough, Kwanghee is sitting on the doorstep wearing a blank expression. "You have the keys," Siwan points out. "Want to go in?" Kwanghee doesn't budge, so Siwan sighs and sits down beside him.
It's been a little over a week since he's last seen Kwanghee, and he's gotten slightly skinnier, his cheekbones sharper. Siwan hesitates before reaching out to brush the hair out of Kwanghee's eyes - it's not like Kwanghee would remember in the morning anyway.
Kwanghee leans into the touch, and Siwan moves his hand downwards to cup Kwanghee's cheek. "You're an idiot," Siwan says, the pang in his chest a strange mix of want and determination. "Why'd you come back?"
Kwanghee's eyes are strangely cloudy, but they still curve into those familiar half-moon shapes when he smiles. "I missed you," he tells Siwan. "Missed you so much."
Siwan's eyes sting a little, even though he's never been much of a crier - he's used to analyzing things, to sorting them out, to solve problems instead of crying over them. But Hwang Kwanghee has always been a question Siwan has never been able to work out; try as he might, Siwan can never determine if that tilt of Kwanghee's head means that he's confused or annoyed, or if he really means it when he walks out of their apartment, luggage in hand, saying Siwannie maybe we need some space maybe a break will be better off for both of us.
"Did you?" Siwan asks quietly.
Kwanghee nods, reaching out to twist his fingers against Siwan's. "Sorry," he says, leaning over to press his forehead against Siwan's. Siwan lets his eyes slip shut, all the while thinking about how everyone has gotten it wrong - it's not about not knowing what you had before you lost it, it's about knowing all along that you had it, but you just simply never expected that you'd lose it.
-
"My head hurts like fuck," Kwanghee says conversationally.
Siwan squints, sitting up on the couch. "You're awake," he says, stating the obvious. "And you don't -"
"Remember a thing," Kwanghee finishes. He edges into the tiny space beside Siwan, pressing clammy fingers onto Siwan's knee. "But hi, good morning."
Siwan shifts over to give Kwanghee more space, but he still refuses to let go, and the physical contact sends electricity jolting through Siwan's veins. "Had a good sleep?" Siwan asks dryly.
Kwanghee hums in agreement. "Sorry for making you sleep on the couch," he says, but there's too much cheer in his voice for him to sound apologetic. "You could have just slept beside me, you know."
Siwan flushes. "You're the one who wanted space," he snaps, pushing Kwanghee's hands off his leg. "So what, you're taking back your words now?" He gets up, heading for the kitchen, his heart thumping erratically under the web of his ribs - it's unfair, really, how Kwanghee never fails to throw his life into disarray.
"Siwan," Kwanghee whines, and okay, it's really unfair now, how Kwanghee can be so shameless and act like nothing's ever happened, how it's as if Siwan was supposed to be stuck here waiting for Kwanghee to return, how -
Kwanghee's fingers curl around Siwan's elbow, grip firm enough to startle Siwan into turning around, but light enough not to hurt. "Siwan," Kwanghee repeats, and now he looks so earnest that all of Siwan's petty retorts dissolve into the air, his eyes wide and unblinking and star-like.
"Kwanghee," Siwan says in answer. "Just. Tell me something."
"What?" Kwanghee asks, running his hand along the underside of Siwan's arm. Siwan shivers, but doesn't pull away.
"Tell me," Siwan says, heart tumbling in his chest, bile rising up in his throat; he's scared, so fucking scared that he won't get the answer he wants, scared that Kwanghee will walk out for the second time, scared of feeling like this. "Do you even love me?"
The moment the words spill out of his mouth, pouring into the space between them and bridging the distance, Siwan regrets it. He sounds like a needy teenage girl clinging onto her boyfriend, and this isn't like Im Siwan, not at all. Unfair, yet again, so completely unfair how Kwanghee can make him throw his image away like this.
Not that Kwanghee isn't worth it, Siwan finds himself thinking, and is startled to realize that it's the truth. Kwanghee is strangely beautiful like this, lips curving upwards, hands as warm as the most comfortable summer sunshine, and Siwan swallows. He can't even pinpoint when exactly he'd begun the slow slide for Kwanghee - he'd just woken up one day to realize that as much as he was annoyed by Kwanghee's childishness, by his complete lack of thinking, he was worried. He cared. And as much as he hadn't meant to, as much as he hadn't expected it -
"Why are you even asking this question?" Kwanghee says bluntly. He unropes his fingers from Siwan's upper arm, reaching out instead to trace the curve of Siwan's jaw. "Sometimes you can be so stupid, Siwan-ah."
Siwan's heart stutters in reply. "But what was that about space?"
Kwanghee shrugs, hand falling back to his side. "I just wanted you to decide for yourself," he says.
"Decide what?"
"If you made the right decision," Kwanghee says, so simply Siwan forgets how to breathe. "If you're really sure about me."
One-track mind, Siwan remembers Junyoung describing Kwanghee once, and Siwan stares at Kwanghee blankly. "So," Siwan says. "You didn't actually want to leave?"
"You seemed kind of annoyed by me hanging around all the time," Kwanghee points out. "So I took a little vacation in Junyoung's house. I told you, it was just a break."
"You were at Junyoung's house," Siwan repeats, narrowing his eyes. "Wait, it was literally a break? I thought -"
"That I was breaking up with you?" Kwanghee says, a grin splitting his face. "Like I would. Haven't you even been paying attention for the past, I don't know, six years?"
Six years of Kwanghee following him around, of Kwanghee pressing kisses against his cheek whenever he can, of Kwanghee tangling fingers with him so often he can't bring himself to flinch away. After six years, Siwan should think he'd be desensitized already, but right now, when Kwanghee beams and slings an arm over Siwan's shoulder, his heart still skips a beat.
"But anyway," Kwanghee continues. "A break is a break. And I'm back."
Siwan swats Kwanghee's arm off, his face burning. "Your stuff -"
"Junyoung's bringing them over later," Kwanghee says cheerily. "So anyway, Siwannie, did you miss me while I was gone?"
Siwan can lie - God knows he's lied to Kwanghee about a thousand times before, lied to himself, lied to his heart, but today he catches the expectancy and tangible want in Kwanghee's eyes and thinks that maybe, it's time for him to be honest.
"I did," Siwan admits, watching Kwanghee's entire face light up with undiluted happiness. "I didn't think I would, but I did, so." Siwan coughs, taking a step back uncomfortably. "Yeah."
When Kwanghee throws his arms around him, Siwan half-laughs into the warmth of his shoulder, then closes his eyes and lets himself heal.
-
"Sorry, hyung," Junyoung says, handing Kwanghee his luggage. "But Kwanghee-hyung told me not to say anything."
"I know," Siwan says, smacking Kwanghee's head. He yelps, and Siwan smiles. "But thanks for taking care of him, anyway."
Kwanghee snorts. "Taking care is a serious understatement, just so you know," he complains. "All he did for me was basically provide me with a roof over my head, I swear."
Siwan glares at him. "At least he didn't kick you out to let you sleep on the road," he points out.
Kwanghee scowls, and Junyoung grins. "Bye," he says, waving. The moment the door shuts, Kwanghee irons out his pout, eyes curving once more.
Siwan shakes his head, arms crossed. "You're a terrible hyung, you know."
Kwanghee shrugs, says, "It's okay, he still loves me."
"Yeah, I have no idea why anyone would," Siwan retorts.
And then Kwanghee's grin is widening as he presses closer and says you really have no idea sure about that Siwannie, and Siwan just curls his fingers around the soft fabric of Kwanghee's T-shirt and laughs.