this song goes out to you [1/2]
group: iKON
pairing: junhwe/jinhwan
rating: r
genre: romance, angst(?)
word count: ~13.6k
warnings: language, implied smut, junhwe is a potato
a/n: originally written for kalopsia for exchangekon! what a mess this is. senpai pls accept my profuse apologies for... this. many thanks to concordances and nokchaa for all the help (read: helping me shape the strewn-about trash into a somewhat more presentable mound). shifty song lyrics all written by me; they suck.
Intro:
“Thank you all for coming,” Junhwe says, his voice still a bit breathless from finishing his previous song. He wipes off his forehead with a towel, dropping it at the foot of the stage before straightening back up and adjusting the microphone in his hand. “It’s been really great seeing all of you guys again.”
He hasn’t been on a stage in over half a year - this is his big comeback. It had been difficult convincing his management to let him perform his new album live for the first time at a concert instead of on broadcast, without even releasing the album first, but he had been adamant.
Nine tracks, all self-written, most at least partially self-composed; Junhwe had thought many times throughout the process that he should just scrap the entire thing. The end result, though, is something that Junhwe’s quite proud of - it’s a little raw, unpolished, but it’s genuine. Kind of like himself, a certain someone might say.
A certain someone who, maybe, the entire album is about.
But Junhwe digresses.
He’s already performed some of the songs tonight, but he’s saving the best for last.
“Unfortunately, the concert’s going to end soon, after this last song. You’re probably curious to know what it is, right?”
He points out his microphone toward the crowd, which responds with an enthusiastic scream. Junhwe’s missed this - the rush that comes with performing, the knowledge that all these people have come here to see him. It manages to stroke his ego but humble him at the same time.
“This last song is the title song of my new album. It’s a song that’s very personal to me.”
Junhwe takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he remembers his pre-rehearsed introduction of the song. There are so many things he could have decided to say about it: who the song is about, why he decided to write it, how much it really means to him.
But none of that is really relevant. Junhwe’s never been the best at expressing his feelings in words, anyway. So he’ll let the song do the talking for him - it’s the best he can do, without spilling every last detail.
“I’m still not that great at writing songs yet, but I hope it was worth waiting all those months - ‘This Song Goes Out to You.’”
The crowd waits with bated breath as Junhwe takes his position, lights dimming behind him as the instrumental begins to play. He lifts the microphone to his mouth, ready to sing and leave everything out on the stage.
And Junhwe’s taken back to how it all started.
Verse One: I wasn’t looking for love when we first met, but maybe I just hadn’t met the right person yet. You talked to me first, and I expected the worst, but that one night was all it took.
Junhwe’s sitting at a bar, a quiet one in the middle of nowhere (as in the middle of nowhere as one can get in Seoul), watching the ice in his second whiskey melt. He runs a hand through his product-free hair, bangs falling over his eyes, resting his makeup-free cheek in his palm.
Here, he’s not Koo Junhwe, chart-topping vocal sensation and moderately successful songwriter, but Koo Junhwe, twenty-five year old young man who could really go for a nap.
His long fingers trace absently along the glass, condensation cold against his fingertips as the little droplets start to collect and trail down the glass, pooling onto the napkin underneath. He’s bored, but this beats sitting at home alone - he’s between promotions, having wrapped up his most recent album a month prior, and he’s old enough and far enough along in his career that no one feels the need to breathe down his back every second of every day. He’s never been marketed with a squeaky-clean image, anyway: always the bad boy with messy hair and dark eyes and a smirk that’s been described as “panty-dropping.”
(Junhwe’s never specifically tried to test that, and he’s not entirely sure he wants to.)
“Take a break,” the executives had said, “we’ll do a concert tour with a new album sometime before the end of the year. The fans and critics liked it more when you wrote your own songs, so take this time to come up with some new material.”
The problem, though, is that Junhwe has spent nearly the entirety of the past month sleeping, watching the same movies he’s already seen a thousand times, or getting drunk when his king-sized bed seemed just a little too wide for himself and his body pillow.
And sure, Junhwe could write an album about the woes of the single man. It’s not like there isn’t an audience for it, and he doesn’t even have to make it about single men, just single people in general. But Junhwe’s no stranger to singing and writing songs about being alone - a good number of his previous songs have had that same theme.
Short of throwing all caution to the wind and releasing an album about potatoes (Junhwe thinks this might land him some favor with the under-ten age group and possibly farmers, but not with anyone else), there’s only one genre left that he’s left largely untouched.
Romance.
Junhwe knows plenty about romance, at least in theory: he knows a thousand and one different ways to have a first date, knows that the best way to kill a mood during a kiss is to keep your eyes open, knows that sex can often make or break a relationship, knows that breakups always, always hurt, even if it’s mutual and even if it’s just a little.
The problem is that’s just it - it’s all theory. And Junhwe doesn’t like to do things by halves, preferring actual experience than just pretending he understands from secondhand accounts.
Obviously, the solution is that Junhwe needs to fall in love, but this is much easier said than done. While there certainly is no shortage of people who find him attractive and would be more than interested in dating him, Junhwe’s always been an all or nothing kind of guy; he’s not opposed to the occasional one-night stand, but those require no emotional attachment, versus even the most casual of relationships. Besides, most of those people are just fans who know his face, know him from what he’s said in interviews, more interested in Junhwe the celebrity than Junhwe the person.
Junhwe’s never been much of a people person, either, which makes things exponentially more difficult when first impressions are everything and Junhwe’s been told he looks mildly terrifying, disinterested, and just about everything in between - none of which are particularly well-conducive to attracting someone he’d like to spend a good amount of the foreseeable future with. Where does one even find someone to date, anyway?
(People always say that the things you’re looking for are closer than you think.)
“You just gonna stare at that all night?” a soft voice asks from his left, bringing Junhwe out of his thoughts.
Junhwe looks up in mild alarm - his first instinct is oh shit, what if someone recognized me? - as narcissistic as he sounds, he’s had to drop more than one of his favorite places because overzealous fans wouldn’t leave him alone.
The source of the voice turns out to be an innocuous-looking man who barely looks old enough to be in here, chin propped up on his fist as a hint of a teasing smile flirts at the corners of his lips. If Junhwe had to describe him, he would probably say he’s inoffensively good-looking, but not necessarily someone he’d look twice at.
And yet here he is, continuing to look. He blames the whiskey.
“Are you gonna do something about it if I don’t?” Junhwe counters, trying to keep his voice as neutral as he can, but he can’t help the hint of sarcasm that seems to lace almost everything he says. A goddamn PR nightmare is what his manager, Donghyuk, calls it, but Junhwe likes to take most things that Donghyuk says with a grain of salt.
“Just trying to make conversation, is all,” the man replies, taking a sip of his own drink - wine, dark red. “You seemed… preoccupied.”
Junhwe raises an eyebrow, swirls the whiskey around before taking a long drink, the familiar burn at the back of his nose and throat not quite a comfort but not unpleasant, either.
“Happy?”
The other man quirks his lips. “No.”
“Then why’d you say something about it?”
“Like I said, conversation.”
This guy, Junhwe thinks, is kind of starting to get on his nerves.
To his credit, the other seems to notice (or maybe it’s the way Junhwe’s eyebrows are already furrowing together), running a hand through his hair and biting his lip. “Maybe we started off on the wrong foot. I’m Jinhwan.” He extends his right hand out towards Junhwe, who looks down at it and stares for a few moments before reaching out in turn.
“Junhwe,” he says, taking the other’s hand in his own. Junhwe’s watched enough romance movies to know that usually, if you’re attracted to someone, this is the first time you feel that ‘spark,’ where you just know that this is meant to be.
Junhwe’s never felt a spark when touching someone else’s hands before, and Jinhwan is no exception. But Jinhwan’s palm is small and warm in his own larger grasp, and neither of them are quick to let go, until things have stretched on just a little too long to be normal and Jinhwan withdraws his hand.
“I know,” Jinhwan says, his fingers curling around the stem of his wineglass. “Rockstar extraordinaire, Koo Junhwe.”
“You’re not a groupie, are you?”
Junhwe asks the question more as a formality than anything else - he’s sort of past the point where he can run out and pretend this was a case of mistaken identity.
Jinhwan laughs, a soft, light sound. “I’d say I’m a casual listener, if nothing else.”
“Should I be offended?”
“You can be whatever you want to be.”
Junhwe shrugs. He decides it’s not important, and finishes the rest of his drink, signaling to the bartender for a refill. Jinhwan swirls his wine around, tips the glass up a bit toward his nose - his movements are easy, practiced. It’s a little fascinating to watch.
Or maybe that’s just the alcohol talking.
“You drink wine?” Jinhwan asks, gaze darting to the side to look at Junhwe, who shakes his head.
“Never really had much of a taste for the stuff.”
Jinhwan hums in response, taking a sip. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right one?”
Junhwe feels like maybe that’s supposed to be some sort of life metaphor, but he’s also not particularly in the mood to wrap his brain around double meanings.
There’s silence for a few beats, as both of them continue to drink. Junhwe’s not sure how to continue the conversation, and he’s got no idea what Jinhwan’s thinking, if anything.
“So tell me, Junhwe-ssi,” Jinhwan says, startling Junhwe just a little, “what brings you here?”
Junhwe’s a little bewildered by this question, gesturing to his glass with one hand. “Drinking? What else?”
Jinhwan’s eyes curve up a bit in quiet laughter. Junhwe’s heart flutters just a little, but alcohol can do that, right?
“You’re right,” Jinhwan replies, setting his now-empty wineglass down onto the bar. “Although I don’t suppose you’ve got any better conversation topics?”
Junhwe shrugs. “I guess you could tell me why you’re in here.”
“Same as you, obviously.” Jinhwan tilts his head, shooting Junhwe a cheeky smile before asking the bartender for a glass of water and something that sounds like ‘merlo.’ He thanks the bartender, taking a sip of water after it’s been placed before him. “But if you want to know the reason behind that, I suppose I could tell you.”
Usually, this is the part where Junhwe closes off, no longer interested in continuing conversation. But for some inexplicable reason, he replies with, “sure, why not?”
“I haven’t been here before,” Jinhwan says, and it’s almost like a confession, the way he leans in closer to Junhwe, “but I was passing by, and it seemed like a nice place.”
“I like it,” Junhwe agrees, “it’s… nice. And usually no one talks to me.”
“Do you not like me talking to you, Junhwe-ssi?”
It’s a final out, if Junhwe wants to take it. One last chance to say no, to pay his tab and leave without another word.
There’s something oddly compelling about Jinhwan, though. So Junhwe decides to tell the truth.
“No, I don’t mind.”
And minutes somehow bleed into hours, a couple more drinks consumed between the two of them, and Junhwe’s not sure when the dim overhead lighting started shadowing Jinhwan’s features in a mysteriously alluring way, but he’s finding that he’s increasingly glad it is. Junhwe hasn’t talked this much at once in a long time - hell, it’s the most he’s even spent in the presence of another person in a month. Talking to Jinhwan is easy; the other man just seems to exude a sense of familiarity, knowing just what to say to make Junhwe talk about when he was in high school while still not pressing him to the point where Junhwe feels compelled to spill just how awkward he was in high school.
It’s nice. Almost comforting, Junhwe might say.
And yeah, the fact that Jinhwan’s starting to look more than a little attractive helps. Junhwe takes back what he thought before - Jinhwan’s definitely worth a second look.
“Is this the part where we have a one night stand?” Junhwe asks, just a hair this side of not tipsy enough for this shit, but also tipsy enough to make poor life choices, leaning heavily on the bar.
Jinhwan doesn’t appear quite as drunk as he is, but there are spots of color high on his cheeks as he grins lopsidedly. “Have you tried having sex while drunk?”
Junhwe shrugs. “Maybe? Probably? I don’t remember.”
“And this,” Jinhwan slurs a bit, “is the point. You’d want to remember this, right?”
Junhwe looks at Jinhwan, at his tousled hair and his cute smile, his collared shirt unbuttoned two from the top, his tie loose around his neck, and thinks yeah, he would like to remember this.
Junhwe leaves the bar in a taxi with a scribbled phone number and a name on a napkin in his pocket.
Pre-Chorus: Didn’t know what to say, never done this before, but you made me think it was all okay, made me want so much more.
Junhwe doesn’t call immediately - the encounter is brushed to the back of his mind after his hangover the following morning and the napkin goes forgotten in his hoodie for a couple of days before Junhwe pulls it back on again one afternoon, shoves his hands in the pockets, and comes up with it.
Kim Jinhwan, it says, followed by a string of numbers. Junhwe almost throws the napkin in the trash before he remembers Jinhwan and his wine glass and his sweet smile, and he swallows dryly before flattening it out on his kitchen counter and tapping the phone number into his contacts list.
He’s always been more of a texter than a caller, so he presses down on Jinhwan’s newly-added name, touches the ‘send a new message’ option, opening up a white screen. hey, he types, thumb hovering over the word ‘send.’
And then he pauses.
If he sends this message, it will mean that he’s interested in Jinhwan, at least on some level. It will mean that he’s letting someone else into his life, for the first time in a very long while, and it’s someone that hasn’t been introduced to him for work.
It will mean there is no turning back.
Well, that’s a little dramatic, maybe. But Junhwe will deny that he spent around an hour with that three-letter word unsent in the text box as he ate lunch (slightly burnt kimchi fried rice).
Eventually, he decides to hell with it - who’s to say Jinhwan will even respond? Maybe he won’t, and Junhwe will have agonized for the past hour for no reason at all.
So he presses ‘send,’ placing his iPhone down on the table, fully intent on ignoring his phone for the next hour, because he doesn’t want to reply too quickly on the off chance that Jinhwan does reply, but then he realizes something rather important.
Jinhwan doesn’t have his number - at least, Junhwe doesn’t recall giving Jinhwan his number.
Junhwe picks up his phone again with a sigh, types out this is junhwe, considers whether or not to add any other explanations, and then proceeds to give up and send it as it is.
He’s once again reminded why he doesn’t get out much. Talking to people is difficult.
To Junhwe’s surprise, his phone vibrates barely a minute after he’s sent his second text, his phone screen lighting up with a preview of a message from ‘Kim Jinhwan.’
Junhwe closes his eyes and counts to a hundred before he opens them and pulls up the message.
Kim Jinhwan: hey junhwe-ssi!! i was starting to think you’d never contact me
Junhwe stares at the text for another minute, trying to figure out what he should send back. It’s times like this he wishes he had friends to ask for advice on these things, but all he has is Donghyuk, and Donghyuk would probably laugh at him.
His phone vibrates again:
Kim Jinhwan: if you’re not busy, maybe we could meet for coffee?
Koo Junhwe: when?
He sends this before his nerves get the better of him, his grip tight around his phone.
Kim Jinhwan: are you free now?
Kim Jinhwan: there’s a cafe i know of that’s nice
Kim Jinhwan: not a lot of people
Junhwe briefly considers the rest of his plans for the day - they consist of lying on his sofa and eating ramyun, and he decides that yes, that can most certainly be done another time.
Koo Junhwe: yeah i’m free
Koo Junhwe: where is it?
Jinhwan sends him the name and location of the cafe. It’s not too far away, so he tells Jinhwan he’ll be there in half an hour and sighs.
Clearly, he’s going to have to do a little better than week-old sweats if he’s going out today.
It’s not terribly hard to find something decent to wear - most of his clothes are in simple designs and greyscale colors, so it’s more of a matter of figuring out what’s clean. He pulls on a pair of black jeans from the floor that doesn’t smell terrible and a grey baseball jacket over a white t-shirt, grabbing his wallet off of his bedside table and shoving it into his back pocket, followed by a black face mask. He stops to look in the mirror, fingers toying with the ends of his hair before deciding to just leave it be. He doesn’t need to look that impressive, does he?
Junhwe shoves his feet into a pair of well-worn black laced boots, making sure he has his phone before leaving his apartment and walking to the street to catch a taxi. He loops the mask over his ears, eyes darting around a bit. Junhwe’s tall, cuts somewhat of an imposing, familiar figure, but it seems like the few people scattered about on Tuesday at half-past one in the afternoon don’t really care much if there might be a celebrity in their midst or not.
He flags a taxi down, slipping in the backseat and showing the address to the driver, who punches it into the GPS and drives off without a word.
A few minutes into the ride, though, Junhwe starts to wonder if he’s just made a huge mistake. He doesn’t really know much about Jinhwan, other than his name, face, phone number, and a couple of odd facts he remembers from that night at the bar. Jinhwan could be luring him to his death for all he knows - one never knows what lies behind a pretty face.
Junhwe eventually figures that Jinhwan wouldn’t try anything in a public cafe, and decides resolutely not to follow him into any alleyways after they part.
All too soon, the taxi’s pulling up in front of the cafe. Junhwe pays the driver and steps out of the cab, straightening his jacket and taking in a deep breath before walking through the door. Junhwe’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do at this point - is he supposed to buy his drink first, or go sit down?
Jinhwan, however, answers the question for him, rising from his seat in a corner of the cafe and walking up to Junhwe. He’s dressed in slacks and a dress shirt with a tie, similarly to how Junhwe remembers the way he looked a few days ago - he supposes either Jinhwan’s on his lunch break, or he really likes dressing up for some reason.
“Hey,” Jinhwan says, a bright smile on his face. His voice is just as as soft as Junhwe remembers, and standing like this, Junhwe realizes that the top of Jinhwan’s head just barely clears his nose.
“Hey,” Junhwe replies, pulling down his face mask, unsure of what else to say. “Um, nice to see you again,” he tacks on lamely.
“Nice to see you again too.” Jinhwan gestures to the table he’d come from. “I’m sitting over there, so you can order and have them bring it over.”
“Is there anything you recommend?” Junhwe asks, his eyes flicking over the posted menu. He’s relatively familiar with the standard drinks, but if there’s anything particularly good, he’d like to try it.
And he kind of really wants to hear Jinhwan’s voice again. Which doesn’t make any sense, since he’s presumably going to be having a conversation with the other in a few minutes, so he’ll be hearing it a lot anyways.
Junhwe’s been making a lot of strange life choices lately, it seems.
“Their lattes are quite good,” Jinhwan says. “Not sure how you take your coffee, but I like the caramel one, myself. If you’re not into sweet, the regular ones are just as good.”
Junhwe nods, stepping up to the counter. He opts for a plain latte, figuring that it’s best to try something plain first to taste the coffee more directly. Plus, he’ll always be able to come back another time-wait, another time?
“I’m, um, sitting over there,” Junhwe tells the cashier, pointing in the general direction of the table Jinhwan had mentioned before.
The cashier nods, handing him a wire stand with a number on it. “We’ll bring it to you when it’s ready. Just leave this on the table.”
“Thanks,” Junhwe says.
“By the way, you look kind of - are you that singer…?”
Junhwe blinks. He knows exactly what she’s talking about, but he’s mostly just stalling for time until he can think of a good response. He’s been in this situation before, multiple times, but every time he still ends up at a bit of a loss. He loves his fans, really, but he doesn’t want to have to be turned onto ‘celebrity mode’ all the time; it’s exhausting. Plus, he doesn’t really want this encounter to end up plastered all over the internet in a few hours - it wouldn’t be fair to Jinhwan, if he ended up getting caught in it.
Junhwe settles for an eyebrow-raise and a slight smile, handing his credit card to the cashier. She looks down at the name, then back up at him, and her eyes widen slightly. She doesn’t say anything more on the topic, though, simply handing back the card with a “thank you.”
Jinhwan smiles, leading Junhwe back to his table. He returns to his seat; Junhwe sits opposite from him. Jinhwan takes a sip of his own coffee, while Junhwe tries to figure out what he should do. If he recalls correctly, Jinhwan was very easy to talk to, but the last time they spoke, there were the added benefits of alcohol and the nighttime setting that helped lower Junhwe’s mental boundaries. Here, in broad daylight, Junhwe’s feeling very out of his element and incredibly awkward. Is he supposed to start the conversation, or wait for Jinhwan to say something?
Junhwe ends up alternately looking at the wood grain of the table and a spot on the wall just above Jinhwan’s head. He would look at Jinhwan, only he’s pretty sure he would end up looking like he’s glaring at Jinhwan instead of admiring his face. Donghyuk’s told him he has a resting bitch face.
“Nice place,” Junhwe finally says, after what feels like a short eternity.
Jinhwan lets out a short laugh. “I’m glad you approve of my taste in cafes.”
A server arrives with Junhwe’s cup, setting it before him. Junhwe thanks him, grateful for the diversion, however brief. He tries the coffee - it’s pretty good, and he tells Jinhwan this, who responds with a smile.
They lapse into an awkward silence again. Junhwe finishes half of his latte before he wonders if Jinhwan’s actuallywaiting for him to say something first.
“What, um, brings you here?” Junhwe asks. “Like… what’s up?” It sounds horribly lame. This is why he never goes outside.
“Well,” Jinhwan says, and Junhwe’s starting to wonder if the reason why Jinhwan keeps smiling is because he’s trying not to laugh at him, “I felt like getting coffee, and you happened to text me, and you were available. So here we are.”
“Yeah.”
Jinhwan raises an eyebrow. “You were a lot more talkative the last time we met.”
“Alcohol,” Junhwe says succinctly. “It always helps.”
“That’s true.”
The conversation dies again, and Junhwe sighs. There’s this weird tension between them, and it’s unsettling. This is probably made worse because Jinhwan’s decided to loosen his shirt, and Junhwe’s suddenly wondering what Jinhwan looks like with more buttons undone.
“Look,” he says finally, “this is… not going so well. I’m not a great conversation partner. And you probably have better people to spend your lunch break with, so maybe we should just pretend this never happened?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Okay then, I’ll be going-what?”
“I said I don’t mind,” Jinhwan repeats. Why does he keep smiling? It’s making Junhwe’s heart do weird things.
“Oh,” Junhwe says. The whole thing feels very anticlimactic.
“You’re interesting, Junhwe-ssi,” Jinhwan says simply. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”
“Thanks?”
Jinhwan smiles (again, what is with that?), pressing the home button on his phone to check the time, his lip parting slightly in acknowledgement as he puts it into his pocket.
“I’ve got to run,” he says, sounding ridiculously apologetic, “my break’s about to be over in about five minutes, and I need to get back to the office.” He stands, re-buttoning his shirt and adjusting his tie, slipping his suit jacket back on and picking up his briefcase from beside his chair. “It was nice talking to you, though.”
“We didn’t do much talking,” Junhwe replies.
“That… is true,” Jinhwan chuckles. “Maybe another time?”
Junhwe’s amazed that even after this, Jinhwan’s seriously considering meeting with him again.
Junhwe’s amazed that even after this, he’s seriously considering it, too.
“Sure,” he says, rising to his feet. The next words come out before he can stop them: “I could walk you back? If you want.”
“That would be nice,” Jinhwan replies. There’s that repressed smile-laughter again, Junhwe notes, as Jinhwan’s eyes curve up, his lips pulling back to reveal even, white teeth. Junhwe kind of wants to make Jinhwan smile more, even if it is in reaction to his ridiculous awkwardness.
It all feels so high school - Junhwe walking his crush back to class, or something. Only Jinhwan’s not a crush (is he?), they’re both grown men, and the walk from the cafe to one of the many office buildings in the area is significantly longer than the average hallway.
There are no words exchanged between the two of them, but Junhwe’s finding that it’s starting to get less awkward, while simultaneously making him more tense. It’s probably because Junhwe’s finally starting to relax in Jinhwan’s presence, while also freaking out because Jinhwan’s arm keeps brushing up against his.
All too soon, they’re standing in front of a tall glass building. Junhwe didn’t even realize they’d stopped until he’d almost crashed into Jinhwan’s back - all the buildings kind of look the same. They stand for a few moments in silence, until Junhwe finally clears his throat.
“Well, it was nice to see you again, Jinhwan-ssi,” Junhwe says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He feels very out of place surrounded by all the office workers - despite having plenty of experience wearing suits and being around other people wearing suits, it’s almost always been in the context of some kind of music event or a meeting with executives. Spending this much time out in the open is something he hasn’t done in a long time.
“Likewise,” Jinhwan replies, adjusting the strap of his bag across his chest. “Oh, and Junhwe-ssi?”
“Yeah?”
“I looked up your profile online,” Jinhwan says as he opens the glass door. “You’re three years younger than me. Call me hyung if we’re going to keep meeting, okay?”
And then Jinhwan’s off with a smile and a wave and Junhwe’s standing in front of an office building feeling oddly stunned that that just happened.
“Jinhwan-hyung,” he says to himself experimentally as he turns around to catch a taxi back home.
Is it weird that he thinks it sounds nice?
First Chorus: I thought what we had was love, almost hit me right out of the blue, the way you fit right next to me and made me feel something new. I never wanted to let go, I thought that this was true. If you’re listening to this, baby, know that this song goes out to you.
It’s almost frightening how easily Jinhwan slips into Junhwe’s life.
One coffee date (was it even a date? What constitutes a date?) turns into exchanging more text messages (Junhwe finds he’s much better at those), which turns into dinner after Jinhwan gets off work a few days later. It’s a remarkably casual affair, just going to a hole-in-the-wall kalguksu restaurant run by some grandmotherly women who give them extra food because they’re “attractive young men and the one with the eyebrows is too skinny.”
“Is this how all celebrities take their secret dates out?” Jinhwan asks, smiling cheekily as he takes a piece of kimchi from the banchan dishes.
“Were you expecting something fancy?” Junhwe asks, swallowing a mouthful of noodles. “I don’t really do fancy.”
Jinhwan shrugs. “You’re the first celebrity I’ve ever spent a significant amount of time with. And on TV and all you’re kinda…” He trails off, gesturing at Junhwe’s hair. “Very aloof?”
“That’s a kind way to put it,” Junhwe says mildly. “Usually I’ve heard people say ‘bitchy’ and ‘mean.’”
Jinhwan frowns a bit, setting his chopsticks down and leaning forward, his elbows resting at the edge of the table. “You’re really not, though. You’re just awkward. It’s kind of cute.”
Now that’s a word Junhwe doesn’t often hear associated with himself. “I-what?”
“You’re cute, Junhwe,” Jinhwan repeats, sitting back again. “Why else do you think I keep talking to you?”
“This could be a long-winded plot to kidnap me for ransom.” Junhwe picks up some bean sprouts, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t know how much I’d be worth, though.”
Jinhwan laughs. Junhwe still doesn’t know why it’s giving him weird heart palpitations.
(It’s probably because you like-like him, a little voice in his head says. Shut up, Junhwe tells it.)
“I promise, I’m not going to kidnap you. If anything, people would probably think you’re kidnapping me.”
Jinhwan’s right, of course, but Junhwe doesn’t think about that as he pays (his long limbs get him to the counter before Jinhwan can) and they leave the restaurant, the night air a bit chilly as they walk down the street.
“I’ll treat you next time,” Jinhwan grumbles, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself.
“There’s going to be a next time?” Junhwe half-teases, half asks. “Besides, you do realize I’m kind of rolling in it, right? And aren’t the younger ones supposed to pay?”
Jinhwan sighs, fixing him with a look that says this is not up for debate. Junhwe lets him have it - there are other battles more worthy of being fought.
“I’ll text you tonight?” Jinhwan says, as they reach the entrance of the subway station.
“Yeah.” Junhwe bites his lip, not sure of how else to respond.
The wind ruffles Jinhwan’s hair a bit, making him look even more youthful than he already does. It’s cute - not that Junhwe’s into kids, or anything gross like that, but he’s cute. Jinhwan is very cute.
Suddenly, Jinhwan’s leaning up, tiptoeing a bit as he brushes his lips against Junhwe’s cheek. If he hadn’t been paying attention, Junhwe might have missed it. But as it stands, he’s just shocked as Jinhwan settles back down on his heels, waves, and descends the steps, swept up in the crowd in an instant.
Fucking hell, Junhwe thinks as he hails a taxi, his cheek still burning where Jinhwan had kissed it. Kissed it. Jinhwankissed him.
This fact replays through Junhwe’s mind all night, keeping him in a daze - he barely notices that the taxi’s pulled up in front of his building, barely remembers actually entering the building or his apartment, plopping down on his couch and staring at his turned-off television.
This means Jinhwan definitely does like him that way, right? Junhwe’s never had much experience with it, so he really doesn’t know. It kind of makes his head hurt, so he tries to push it to the back of his mind as he changes into sweats and reads random things online to pass the time (and avoid over-analyzing the events of the night).
Jinhwan texts him around eleven, Junhwe’s phone vibrating right as he’s finished getting ready for bed and is about to go to sleep. He dives for it immediately, unlocking his phone to read the message:
Kim Jinhwan: goodnight, june-yah!!
Kim Jinhwan: ...do you mind if i call you that, actually, it just seemed cute.
Junhwe flushes a violent red, swallowing thickly as he remembers that Jinhwan called him ‘cute’ earlier in the night. His heart is keyboard smashing, but his mind forces him to respond calmly and rationally.
Koo Junhwe: no i don’t mind
Koo Junhwe: gnite hyung
(Junhwe falls asleep feeling oddly satisfied.)
Before Junhwe even realizes it, another month has passed in a flurry of texts and hangouts and not-dates and he and Jinhwan have gotten closer still. But it’s ambiguous, a little more than friends and a little less than not. It’s been gnawing at Junhwe almost constantly, and he doesn’t do well with uncertainty.
“What are we, hyung?” Junhwe finally asks one evening, as he’s walking Jinhwan to the subway station on a Friday night, nearly a month and a half after they’d first met. “I mean, like, are we dating? Because it feels like we are, but I don’t want to push you-”
Jinhwan stops him with a finger pressed against his lips, pushing him against a gap between two buildings so they’re hidden from view, another one of those infuriatingly charming smiles on his lips.
“We can be whatever you want us to be.”
Junhwe swallows thickly, a thousand times more nervous than he’d ever been before. His heart’s hammering in his chest faster than it had the first time he’d ever performed live - facing Jinhwan, standing here in front of him, is more nerve-wracking than any faceless audience.
“I want,” he says, wrapping his hand around Jinhwan’s wrist and lowering the elder’s hand from his face. He feels a lot more certain than he sounds, “us to be something. That is, I like you a lot, hyung, and I mean I don’t know if you make it a habit to chat people up and sort-of date them, but-”
Jinhwan shuts him up again, this time with his lips. They’re soft and warm and a lot of other nice things, but Junhwe’s finding it increasingly difficult to think. His brain is probably having the time of its life short-circuiting right now, but he can’t really bring himself to care.
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