we chose each other | s.coups/woozi [32/32]
title: we chose each other [chapter thirty-two]
pairing: s.coups/woozi
genre: angst, romance, friendship
rating: m
warnings: in depth interaction with suicide, depression, homophobia and related issues, bullying, firearms, manipulation, smoking, language, implied sexual situations
wordcount: 2.8k
summary: au. Seungcheol passes the days trying to escape his past and find meaning in the future. Jihoon goes through each day trying to find a reason to live for himself, and not just exist pretending for others. Little do they know, a chance encounter gives them both what they’re searching for, and something more.
Seungcheol hisses as he tries to reach for the beer in the fridge. He really must have injured himself earlier. Maybe he should stop working for the delivery company for a couple of days. He makes a face. He really needs the money though, and the supervisor had promised him a full month of work.
He sighs and reaches for the cigarette pack in his jacket. He hasn’t had one since earlier this morning, with the other guys at the warehouse. He hasn’t had one after work ever since Jihoon scolded him and said he wouldn’t kiss him if he smoked.
Seungcheol feels a different kind of pain settle in his chest.
Jihoon.
He misses him.
It’s been just under a month, and the ache hasn't disappeared. If anything, it's gotten worse.
Seungcheol wonders how he’s going to get through the rest of his life.
He sighs, unlit cigarette between his teeth. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, just two short raps.
Seungcheol smiles wryly to himself because that's how Jihoon used to knock.
He opens the door with slight hesitation because it's three in the morning, and who knocks on someone else's door at three in the morning?
Jihoon. That's who.
Seungcheol blinks at him.
“Hey,” Jihoon says softly. Then he notices the unlit cigarette between Seungcheol’s lips and he scowls. “I told you to stop smoking,” he snaps, snatching the cigarette from between his lips.
Seungcheol doesn't even register it, because he's still staring at Jihoon, like he's an illusion.
“Jihoon…?” he breathes. The young man on his doorstep goes from scowling with the cigarette in his hands to smiling softly.
“Hi,” he says. A pause, then, “can I come in?”
Seungcheol shakes out of his reverie. He tries to steel himself, and force himself to spit out the words he hates saying. “You should leave, Jihoon,” he says, and he sounds cold even to his own ears.
Jihoon just smiles softly and pushes past him and Seungcheol has never been able to put up a fight against Jihoon.
“Jihoon, you can't be here,” Seungcheol sighs, running a hand over his face. He can’t keep up the cold front, but that doesn’t mean he can’t keep trying to make Jihoon leave. “Your job, your family, everything is at stake - ”
“I don’t care,” Jihoon says and it's only when he puts his bag down on Seungcheol’s bed does Seungcheol notice it. Jihoon never carries bags when he comes over. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Jihoon,” Seungcheol sighs. “They're still your parents, and they're just trying to protect you,” Seungcheol didn't get a chance to fight to keep his parents’ love - they just rejected him. Jihoon has this chance, and Seungcheol doesn’t want him to miss it.
Jihoon just smiles. “I know, but I'm not of their concern anymore.”
“Jihoon....”
“Are you willing to take in the former heir to Mansae Enterprises?”
Seungcheol stares. Jihoon scratches the back of his neck. “I can't offer much, but I - ”
“What do you mean former?” Seungcheol breathes so softly, it’s like he’s scared even a puff of air will shatter everything.
“I won't inherit the company anymore,” Jihoon says simply.
Seungcheol pales. “Did you parents….?”
“Kick me out? No,” Jihoon smiles softly. “I left on my own accord.”
Seungcheol can only gape as Jihoon smiles. “I left by my own choice. To be here,”
“But - But how did you get away?” Seungcheol splutters, pretending not to have heard the last part. “Why isn't there someone here right now, taking you back - ?” Seungcheol suddenly gets up to look out the window and Jihoon can't help but laugh.
He waits as Seungcheol searches the deserted street for dark cars and men in suits, but it’s empty. The city is quiet.
Seungcheol turns back to Jihoon and finds him smiling. It’s odd that it’s only then that he notices Jihoon’s hair has been dyed jet black. Something tells him it’s been like that for a while.
“If I played my cards right, they should be searching some abandoned warehouse in Incheon right now, and then searching every port in the U.S. for most of the next week,” Jihoon smiles. “Enough time for us to get out of Seoul and find somewhere else,”
“I - I don’t understand,” Seungcheol almost looks dizzy.
Jihoon steps towards him and Seungcheol takes a nervous step backward. Jihoon hides the pain well, but Seungcheol notices anyway.
“Why are you here?” Seungcheol asks carefully.
“Because I want to be,” Jihoon answers.
“But you shouldn’t,” Seungcheol says, voice strained. “You had everything, Jihoon, you - ”
“I had parents who saw me as a chess piece, was about to be engaged to a girl who was terrified of me, was set to inherit a company that only wanted to suck the life out of me, and,” Jihoon steps towards him and this time Seungcheol doesn’t back away. “And I didn’t have you, so really, I had nothing,”
Seungcheol doesn’t move, still trying to process everything, so Jihoon takes another step towards him, closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Seungcheol’s waist hesitantly.
It doesn’t take long for Seungcheol to cave to the warmth of Jihoon’s body, fitting against him perfectly. His arms wrap around Jihoon tightly, and Jihoon sighs contentedly against his chest.
“I don’t understand, but you’re here, and even if it’s only temporary, I’ll take it,” Seungcheol murmurs into his hair.
Jihoon pulls back to pull Seungcheol’s face down to his, fitting their mouths together in a kiss that is so familiar. It’s been nearly a month but Jihoon feels the butterflies in his stomach and fireworks in his chest all over again. Seungcheol must feel the same, if the tightened grip at Jihoon’s waist is any indication.
“It’s not temporary,” Jihoon whispers.
Seungcheol stares at him, breathing a little heavily, brain trying to process exactly what Jihoon means. It’s not temporary. Jihoon is here, with him, for good.
“You have to explain everything, but later,” he says hurriedly before connecting their mouths again. Jihoon is all too happy to comply to that order.
“So what did you do?” Seungcheol asks later, when they’re cuddling in bed. Jihoon didn’t know he could miss the uncomfortable lumpy mattress.
“Faked three different gunshots outside, forcing my security team to leave me, threw my office into a mess, used my gun, and remotely sent a ransom demand from a tiny device in Incheon port area. There were several ships leaving for the U.S. tonight, so if security is quick, they’ll ‘figure out’ I was kidnapped and put in a container headed to the US,” Jihoon murmurs.
Seungcheol looks at him with a slightly awed look. “That’s pretty impressive, Jihoonie,” he says, “you sure you’re not actually the son of some mafia or underworld boss?”
Jihoon laughs loudly and Seungcheol treasures the rumble he feels against his chest.
“No, just a kid who got taught a lot of things they never expected to be used against them,” he answers. He turns to look at Seungcheol, mirth in his eyes. “It was so satisfying putting a bullet through my computer and my filing cabinet, you have no idea.”
“Doesn’t the building have cameras though?” Seungcheol asks suddenly, freezing.
“Remotely disabled the whole security system,” Jihoon hums. “It’ll look like they disabled the cameras and security system, and then dragged me out kicking and screaming, and into a white van.”
“White van?” Seungcheol breathes.
“Street CCTV edited to have a white van kidnapping someone from an old movie,” Jihoon answers.
“You really thought of everything,” Seungcheol says.
“I hope so,” Jihoon murmurs. He sighs and turns in Seungcheol’s embrace. “I’m sorry, this was the only place I could think of,”
Seungcheol shakes his head hurriedly, hugging Jihoon tightly, nose buried in Jihoon’s black locks. “No, no, I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “I’m sorry for what I said, that day,”
“Did you mean it?” Jihoon asks. Seungcheol can feel him tremble slightly in his arms.
Seungcheol shakes his head against Jihoon’s neck. “Not a word,” he breathes. “I’m so sorry. I was selfish. I thought it would help us, but it didn’t,”
Jihoon exhales in relief. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry if all these hugs were fake,”
Seungcheol makes a high noise of distress and cups Jihoon’s face in both hands so that he can kiss him messily, mouths moving against each other in dizzying need. “No,” he breathes, kissing Jihoon again. “No, not fake,” he kisses Jihoon’s jaw, who lets out a small sigh. “Didn’t stop loving you, not for a second,”
Jihoon stops him from where his mouth is trailing kisses into the dip of his clavicles. “Really?” he murmurs and Seungcheol takes a moment to orientate himself back to words.
Seungcheol nods and Jihoon’s face breaks into a happy smile, and Seungcheol stares at the beautiful sight until he notices the tears brimming in Jihoon’s eyes and he panics as the drops fall.
“Jihoon!”
“No, no, it’s okay, I’m just… happy,” he mumbles, laughing a little giddily, swiping at his eyes. “I just…. I can’t believe this is real. I’m here, with you, and you… you still love me,”
Seungcheol kisses his tears away. “Of course,” he murmurs.
Jihoon holds his face to kiss him tenderly. “I love you too, Seungcheol,” he murmurs. Seungcheol smiles warmly.
And this time, two smiles meet in the tiny dim light of the apartment in the quiet early hours of the morning that is just for them.
Two years later
“I still think we should send security with you,” his mother says as she watches the housekeeper smooth his puffy vest. There aren’t even creases in it, but still, it must be smoothed and made perfect.
“Mother, please,” Chan whines. “It’d make me look like such a baby if anyone is with me,”
His mother makes a face of displeasure. So Chan pulls out the trump card. “Do you want me to start my reputation as a useless rich kid who has to be followed all the time?”
Just put ‘reputation’ with any negative word and his mother is already agreeing that it’s fine. His father is in France, and therefore has no say.
“It’s just for a couple of weeks, and security is sending me to the station anyway,” Chan says.
His mother sighs. “Alright, alright, but make sure you come back in time. There’s that leadership training course as soon as you get back,”
Chan tries to make sure his smile is restrained to show his reluctance. “I understand, mother,” he says even though his understanding is totally different to hers.
He won’t be going to that leadership course. He won’t be seeing his mother ever again.
“Stay safe,” she says quietly and for a moment Chan feels the warmth of motherly love climb around his heart like vines and cling onto him. He thinks maybe he will miss her after all.
“You’re the only heir to Mansae Enterprises now, and the company can’t handle another scandal of the heir disappearing,”
The warmth shatters, leaving behind a cold, sharp feeling.
“Of course,” Chan chokes out. He grabs his backpack and crams his hair under a hat and climbs into the big van waiting for him.
Security will send him to the station, and will watch him board a train to Mokpo, where he’ll take a boat to Jeju Island. His mother had told him to take the private jet, before Chan protested being too extravagant. He then refused the normal commercial flight, saying his friends wanted to take the ferry, to get the full experience, and he wanted to do the same, even if he was going later. He had to attend an intensive language course in the United States for three months, thus being a week late to join his friends going to Jeju. He assured his mother that they would be waiting for him at Jeju.
Chan buys the ticket to Mokpo with security by his side, lets them inspect it and then escort him onto the train. Chan just smiles and waves goodbye to them, not letting them know that he doesn’t have a ticket for a ferry and that deep in his backpack, he has another train ticket.
Chan watches the scenery go by, hugging his backpack tightly.
He half expects to see security getting out of the train when he gets off at Mokpo, but amidst all the hustle and bustle of Mokpo station, he doesn’t see a single cold face or dark suit and Chan breathes a little easier.
Playing it safe though, he heads to the ferry counter and enquires about the price. He spends a good few minutes with the girl, smiling charmingly at her while she flushes and gives him all the useless information he asks for.
By then, Chan is pretty sure he really has been left alone, and he thanks the girl before stepping away from the counter and heads for the adjoining bus station.
If there’s any security left, they’ll be running after him now, and he’s already got his excuses and lies prepared.
But there isn’t security running after him and Chan climbs into the bus to sleepy faces and takes his seat easily.
hey hyung! the sea breeze is awesome, you should definitely go sometime! he messages to “Soonyoungie-hyung”.
Chan gets back a ha ha ha, maybe we can go together someday and knows Soonyoung has passed the message on.
He listens to music and tries not to fidget as they drive out of the city. He’s the third stop, relatively early, and he clambers out and drags his suitcase into the train station. His phone is left behind on the bus, turned off, battery out.
He’s at a small town just outside Mokpo. Chan clambers onto the train that arrives twenty minutes later, and he settles into his seat with a bright smile.
Now he’s sure that he’s okay, he pulls out the new phone that had been tucked deep in his bag, beside this train ticket.
He slides the new sim card into its slot and quickly sends a message out to a number he’s memorised by heart.
on the train
good. we’ll be waiting comes the immediate reply.
Chan grins brightly and settles into his seat as the train hurtles towards Busan.
Two hours later, Chan steps out into the bright afternoon sun, dragging his oversized suitcase behind him.
A man with pale pink hair and dark glasses steps up to him, a taller black-haired man behind him.
For a moment, Chan thinks he’s been caught. That this whole thing was for naught, and he’s going to get dragged back and have to explain everything -
Then the pink haired one lifts his glasses and a smile blooms on his face as he recognises him.
“Hi Chan,” Jihoon says, eyes crinkling warmly. “You’ve grown taller,”
Chan lets out a bell-like laugh and abandons his suitcase in favour of nearly tackling Jihoon in a tight hug. “Hyung! Ah, I missed you,”
“You messaged me every couple of weeks,” Jihoon deadpans, patting his back awkwardly.
“I missed you making mother and father pissed and not making the house so empty,” Chan clarifies into Jihoon’s shoulder.
Jihoon’s hand freezes in it’s awkward patting. He sighs and melts into his brother’s embrace.
His younger brother, who he hasn’t seen for two years, who is now taller than him, who has broader shoulders, a more defined jaw, is in his arms. “I’m sorry, Channie,” he murmurs.
Chan pulls away with a bright grin. “I’m not. I’m just glad I’m here,” he says.
Jihoon smiles warmly and his eyes crinkle in a way that Chan would recognise anywhere.
Jihoon hasn’t gained weight, but he looks healthier, looks tired, but not empty. He looks so much more alive than when he was in Seoul.
“I’m glad you’re here too,” Jihoon murmurs and the two brothers embrace again in the warm afternoon sun.
After a long moment, Jihoon releases him and seems to remember his dark-haired companion.
“Channie,” he says, voice sounding unsure, “you know - ?”
"Of course,” Chan says brightly, before turning to the other man. “Nice to finally meet you, hyung," Chan beams.
Seungcheol smiles and ruffles his hair. "Nice to meet you too, Chan,” he says.
Jihoon reaches for him hesitantly and Chan laces their hands together easily, knowing Jihoon likes that reassurance, even if he doesn’t know how to ask for it. Seungcheol takes Chan’s suitcase with one hand, Jihoon’s hand in his other hand.
“Come on, Chan,” Seungcheol says softly, smiling warmly, and Chan feels reassured even though this is technically the first time they’ve met. “Let’s go home,”
Chan grins brightly, and when he looks at his brother, Jihoon is already smiling at him, eyes warm.
“Let’s go home,” Jihoon echoes, squeezing his hand.
//The End//
a/n: I am not happy with how this story turned out - the ending is, because I wrote that about halfway through, but I removed at least two arcs of character development that I originally wanted to include, because I acknowledged that I was never going to get around to writing the epic fic that I originally wanted.
No one wants to hear about my struggles, but I will say there were struggles, in particular how I feel about writing fic, but it doesn’t matter now. It’s not perfect or what I imagined when I embarked on this fic, but it is done. I can’t lie and say it isn’t a relief, that at least now, if I do leave fandom/fic writing, at least this isn’t unfinished.
I hope you enjoyed it despite the fact that it is not exactly how I wanted it to go.
For those who stayed with this all the way, thank you, and I’m sorry for pseudo abandoning this for three years. I hope the ending was worth it <3
pairing: s.coups/woozi
genre: angst, romance, friendship
rating: m
warnings: in depth interaction with suicide, depression, homophobia and related issues, bullying, firearms, manipulation, smoking, language, implied sexual situations
wordcount: 2.8k
summary: au. Seungcheol passes the days trying to escape his past and find meaning in the future. Jihoon goes through each day trying to find a reason to live for himself, and not just exist pretending for others. Little do they know, a chance encounter gives them both what they’re searching for, and something more.
Seungcheol hisses as he tries to reach for the beer in the fridge. He really must have injured himself earlier. Maybe he should stop working for the delivery company for a couple of days. He makes a face. He really needs the money though, and the supervisor had promised him a full month of work.
He sighs and reaches for the cigarette pack in his jacket. He hasn’t had one since earlier this morning, with the other guys at the warehouse. He hasn’t had one after work ever since Jihoon scolded him and said he wouldn’t kiss him if he smoked.
Seungcheol feels a different kind of pain settle in his chest.
Jihoon.
He misses him.
It’s been just under a month, and the ache hasn't disappeared. If anything, it's gotten worse.
Seungcheol wonders how he’s going to get through the rest of his life.
He sighs, unlit cigarette between his teeth. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, just two short raps.
Seungcheol smiles wryly to himself because that's how Jihoon used to knock.
He opens the door with slight hesitation because it's three in the morning, and who knocks on someone else's door at three in the morning?
Jihoon. That's who.
Seungcheol blinks at him.
“Hey,” Jihoon says softly. Then he notices the unlit cigarette between Seungcheol’s lips and he scowls. “I told you to stop smoking,” he snaps, snatching the cigarette from between his lips.
Seungcheol doesn't even register it, because he's still staring at Jihoon, like he's an illusion.
“Jihoon…?” he breathes. The young man on his doorstep goes from scowling with the cigarette in his hands to smiling softly.
“Hi,” he says. A pause, then, “can I come in?”
Seungcheol shakes out of his reverie. He tries to steel himself, and force himself to spit out the words he hates saying. “You should leave, Jihoon,” he says, and he sounds cold even to his own ears.
Jihoon just smiles softly and pushes past him and Seungcheol has never been able to put up a fight against Jihoon.
“Jihoon, you can't be here,” Seungcheol sighs, running a hand over his face. He can’t keep up the cold front, but that doesn’t mean he can’t keep trying to make Jihoon leave. “Your job, your family, everything is at stake - ”
“I don’t care,” Jihoon says and it's only when he puts his bag down on Seungcheol’s bed does Seungcheol notice it. Jihoon never carries bags when he comes over. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Jihoon,” Seungcheol sighs. “They're still your parents, and they're just trying to protect you,” Seungcheol didn't get a chance to fight to keep his parents’ love - they just rejected him. Jihoon has this chance, and Seungcheol doesn’t want him to miss it.
Jihoon just smiles. “I know, but I'm not of their concern anymore.”
“Jihoon....”
“Are you willing to take in the former heir to Mansae Enterprises?”
Seungcheol stares. Jihoon scratches the back of his neck. “I can't offer much, but I - ”
“What do you mean former?” Seungcheol breathes so softly, it’s like he’s scared even a puff of air will shatter everything.
“I won't inherit the company anymore,” Jihoon says simply.
Seungcheol pales. “Did you parents….?”
“Kick me out? No,” Jihoon smiles softly. “I left on my own accord.”
Seungcheol can only gape as Jihoon smiles. “I left by my own choice. To be here,”
“But - But how did you get away?” Seungcheol splutters, pretending not to have heard the last part. “Why isn't there someone here right now, taking you back - ?” Seungcheol suddenly gets up to look out the window and Jihoon can't help but laugh.
He waits as Seungcheol searches the deserted street for dark cars and men in suits, but it’s empty. The city is quiet.
Seungcheol turns back to Jihoon and finds him smiling. It’s odd that it’s only then that he notices Jihoon’s hair has been dyed jet black. Something tells him it’s been like that for a while.
“If I played my cards right, they should be searching some abandoned warehouse in Incheon right now, and then searching every port in the U.S. for most of the next week,” Jihoon smiles. “Enough time for us to get out of Seoul and find somewhere else,”
“I - I don’t understand,” Seungcheol almost looks dizzy.
Jihoon steps towards him and Seungcheol takes a nervous step backward. Jihoon hides the pain well, but Seungcheol notices anyway.
“Why are you here?” Seungcheol asks carefully.
“Because I want to be,” Jihoon answers.
“But you shouldn’t,” Seungcheol says, voice strained. “You had everything, Jihoon, you - ”
“I had parents who saw me as a chess piece, was about to be engaged to a girl who was terrified of me, was set to inherit a company that only wanted to suck the life out of me, and,” Jihoon steps towards him and this time Seungcheol doesn’t back away. “And I didn’t have you, so really, I had nothing,”
Seungcheol doesn’t move, still trying to process everything, so Jihoon takes another step towards him, closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Seungcheol’s waist hesitantly.
It doesn’t take long for Seungcheol to cave to the warmth of Jihoon’s body, fitting against him perfectly. His arms wrap around Jihoon tightly, and Jihoon sighs contentedly against his chest.
“I don’t understand, but you’re here, and even if it’s only temporary, I’ll take it,” Seungcheol murmurs into his hair.
Jihoon pulls back to pull Seungcheol’s face down to his, fitting their mouths together in a kiss that is so familiar. It’s been nearly a month but Jihoon feels the butterflies in his stomach and fireworks in his chest all over again. Seungcheol must feel the same, if the tightened grip at Jihoon’s waist is any indication.
“It’s not temporary,” Jihoon whispers.
Seungcheol stares at him, breathing a little heavily, brain trying to process exactly what Jihoon means. It’s not temporary. Jihoon is here, with him, for good.
“You have to explain everything, but later,” he says hurriedly before connecting their mouths again. Jihoon is all too happy to comply to that order.
“So what did you do?” Seungcheol asks later, when they’re cuddling in bed. Jihoon didn’t know he could miss the uncomfortable lumpy mattress.
“Faked three different gunshots outside, forcing my security team to leave me, threw my office into a mess, used my gun, and remotely sent a ransom demand from a tiny device in Incheon port area. There were several ships leaving for the U.S. tonight, so if security is quick, they’ll ‘figure out’ I was kidnapped and put in a container headed to the US,” Jihoon murmurs.
Seungcheol looks at him with a slightly awed look. “That’s pretty impressive, Jihoonie,” he says, “you sure you’re not actually the son of some mafia or underworld boss?”
Jihoon laughs loudly and Seungcheol treasures the rumble he feels against his chest.
“No, just a kid who got taught a lot of things they never expected to be used against them,” he answers. He turns to look at Seungcheol, mirth in his eyes. “It was so satisfying putting a bullet through my computer and my filing cabinet, you have no idea.”
“Doesn’t the building have cameras though?” Seungcheol asks suddenly, freezing.
“Remotely disabled the whole security system,” Jihoon hums. “It’ll look like they disabled the cameras and security system, and then dragged me out kicking and screaming, and into a white van.”
“White van?” Seungcheol breathes.
“Street CCTV edited to have a white van kidnapping someone from an old movie,” Jihoon answers.
“You really thought of everything,” Seungcheol says.
“I hope so,” Jihoon murmurs. He sighs and turns in Seungcheol’s embrace. “I’m sorry, this was the only place I could think of,”
Seungcheol shakes his head hurriedly, hugging Jihoon tightly, nose buried in Jihoon’s black locks. “No, no, I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “I’m sorry for what I said, that day,”
“Did you mean it?” Jihoon asks. Seungcheol can feel him tremble slightly in his arms.
Seungcheol shakes his head against Jihoon’s neck. “Not a word,” he breathes. “I’m so sorry. I was selfish. I thought it would help us, but it didn’t,”
Jihoon exhales in relief. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry if all these hugs were fake,”
Seungcheol makes a high noise of distress and cups Jihoon’s face in both hands so that he can kiss him messily, mouths moving against each other in dizzying need. “No,” he breathes, kissing Jihoon again. “No, not fake,” he kisses Jihoon’s jaw, who lets out a small sigh. “Didn’t stop loving you, not for a second,”
Jihoon stops him from where his mouth is trailing kisses into the dip of his clavicles. “Really?” he murmurs and Seungcheol takes a moment to orientate himself back to words.
Seungcheol nods and Jihoon’s face breaks into a happy smile, and Seungcheol stares at the beautiful sight until he notices the tears brimming in Jihoon’s eyes and he panics as the drops fall.
“Jihoon!”
“No, no, it’s okay, I’m just… happy,” he mumbles, laughing a little giddily, swiping at his eyes. “I just…. I can’t believe this is real. I’m here, with you, and you… you still love me,”
Seungcheol kisses his tears away. “Of course,” he murmurs.
Jihoon holds his face to kiss him tenderly. “I love you too, Seungcheol,” he murmurs. Seungcheol smiles warmly.
And this time, two smiles meet in the tiny dim light of the apartment in the quiet early hours of the morning that is just for them.
Two years later
“I still think we should send security with you,” his mother says as she watches the housekeeper smooth his puffy vest. There aren’t even creases in it, but still, it must be smoothed and made perfect.
“Mother, please,” Chan whines. “It’d make me look like such a baby if anyone is with me,”
His mother makes a face of displeasure. So Chan pulls out the trump card. “Do you want me to start my reputation as a useless rich kid who has to be followed all the time?”
Just put ‘reputation’ with any negative word and his mother is already agreeing that it’s fine. His father is in France, and therefore has no say.
“It’s just for a couple of weeks, and security is sending me to the station anyway,” Chan says.
His mother sighs. “Alright, alright, but make sure you come back in time. There’s that leadership training course as soon as you get back,”
Chan tries to make sure his smile is restrained to show his reluctance. “I understand, mother,” he says even though his understanding is totally different to hers.
He won’t be going to that leadership course. He won’t be seeing his mother ever again.
“Stay safe,” she says quietly and for a moment Chan feels the warmth of motherly love climb around his heart like vines and cling onto him. He thinks maybe he will miss her after all.
“You’re the only heir to Mansae Enterprises now, and the company can’t handle another scandal of the heir disappearing,”
The warmth shatters, leaving behind a cold, sharp feeling.
“Of course,” Chan chokes out. He grabs his backpack and crams his hair under a hat and climbs into the big van waiting for him.
Security will send him to the station, and will watch him board a train to Mokpo, where he’ll take a boat to Jeju Island. His mother had told him to take the private jet, before Chan protested being too extravagant. He then refused the normal commercial flight, saying his friends wanted to take the ferry, to get the full experience, and he wanted to do the same, even if he was going later. He had to attend an intensive language course in the United States for three months, thus being a week late to join his friends going to Jeju. He assured his mother that they would be waiting for him at Jeju.
Chan buys the ticket to Mokpo with security by his side, lets them inspect it and then escort him onto the train. Chan just smiles and waves goodbye to them, not letting them know that he doesn’t have a ticket for a ferry and that deep in his backpack, he has another train ticket.
Chan watches the scenery go by, hugging his backpack tightly.
He half expects to see security getting out of the train when he gets off at Mokpo, but amidst all the hustle and bustle of Mokpo station, he doesn’t see a single cold face or dark suit and Chan breathes a little easier.
Playing it safe though, he heads to the ferry counter and enquires about the price. He spends a good few minutes with the girl, smiling charmingly at her while she flushes and gives him all the useless information he asks for.
By then, Chan is pretty sure he really has been left alone, and he thanks the girl before stepping away from the counter and heads for the adjoining bus station.
If there’s any security left, they’ll be running after him now, and he’s already got his excuses and lies prepared.
But there isn’t security running after him and Chan climbs into the bus to sleepy faces and takes his seat easily.
hey hyung! the sea breeze is awesome, you should definitely go sometime! he messages to “Soonyoungie-hyung”.
Chan gets back a ha ha ha, maybe we can go together someday and knows Soonyoung has passed the message on.
He listens to music and tries not to fidget as they drive out of the city. He’s the third stop, relatively early, and he clambers out and drags his suitcase into the train station. His phone is left behind on the bus, turned off, battery out.
He’s at a small town just outside Mokpo. Chan clambers onto the train that arrives twenty minutes later, and he settles into his seat with a bright smile.
Now he’s sure that he’s okay, he pulls out the new phone that had been tucked deep in his bag, beside this train ticket.
He slides the new sim card into its slot and quickly sends a message out to a number he’s memorised by heart.
on the train
good. we’ll be waiting comes the immediate reply.
Chan grins brightly and settles into his seat as the train hurtles towards Busan.
Two hours later, Chan steps out into the bright afternoon sun, dragging his oversized suitcase behind him.
A man with pale pink hair and dark glasses steps up to him, a taller black-haired man behind him.
For a moment, Chan thinks he’s been caught. That this whole thing was for naught, and he’s going to get dragged back and have to explain everything -
Then the pink haired one lifts his glasses and a smile blooms on his face as he recognises him.
“Hi Chan,” Jihoon says, eyes crinkling warmly. “You’ve grown taller,”
Chan lets out a bell-like laugh and abandons his suitcase in favour of nearly tackling Jihoon in a tight hug. “Hyung! Ah, I missed you,”
“You messaged me every couple of weeks,” Jihoon deadpans, patting his back awkwardly.
“I missed you making mother and father pissed and not making the house so empty,” Chan clarifies into Jihoon’s shoulder.
Jihoon’s hand freezes in it’s awkward patting. He sighs and melts into his brother’s embrace.
His younger brother, who he hasn’t seen for two years, who is now taller than him, who has broader shoulders, a more defined jaw, is in his arms. “I’m sorry, Channie,” he murmurs.
Chan pulls away with a bright grin. “I’m not. I’m just glad I’m here,” he says.
Jihoon smiles warmly and his eyes crinkle in a way that Chan would recognise anywhere.
Jihoon hasn’t gained weight, but he looks healthier, looks tired, but not empty. He looks so much more alive than when he was in Seoul.
“I’m glad you’re here too,” Jihoon murmurs and the two brothers embrace again in the warm afternoon sun.
After a long moment, Jihoon releases him and seems to remember his dark-haired companion.
“Channie,” he says, voice sounding unsure, “you know - ?”
"Of course,” Chan says brightly, before turning to the other man. “Nice to finally meet you, hyung," Chan beams.
Seungcheol smiles and ruffles his hair. "Nice to meet you too, Chan,” he says.
Jihoon reaches for him hesitantly and Chan laces their hands together easily, knowing Jihoon likes that reassurance, even if he doesn’t know how to ask for it. Seungcheol takes Chan’s suitcase with one hand, Jihoon’s hand in his other hand.
“Come on, Chan,” Seungcheol says softly, smiling warmly, and Chan feels reassured even though this is technically the first time they’ve met. “Let’s go home,”
Chan grins brightly, and when he looks at his brother, Jihoon is already smiling at him, eyes warm.
“Let’s go home,” Jihoon echoes, squeezing his hand.
//The End//
a/n: I am not happy with how this story turned out - the ending is, because I wrote that about halfway through, but I removed at least two arcs of character development that I originally wanted to include, because I acknowledged that I was never going to get around to writing the epic fic that I originally wanted.
No one wants to hear about my struggles, but I will say there were struggles, in particular how I feel about writing fic, but it doesn’t matter now. It’s not perfect or what I imagined when I embarked on this fic, but it is done. I can’t lie and say it isn’t a relief, that at least now, if I do leave fandom/fic writing, at least this isn’t unfinished.
I hope you enjoyed it despite the fact that it is not exactly how I wanted it to go.
For those who stayed with this all the way, thank you, and I’m sorry for pseudo abandoning this for three years. I hope the ending was worth it <3