[ficlet] because i promise we're invincible, 1/1
Title: Because I Promise We’re Invincible
Pairing: Hangeng/Heechul
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4000
Suggested Listening: Han Geng - 撑伞 (Holding An Umbrella)
Summary: Heechul is a wanderer, but here, he’s grounded. (In which Christmas wishes aren’t that far-fetched after all.)
No one is taken aback when Heechul sends out a mass text, saying, I’m going home for Christmas this year. In fact, no one even cares. Heechul is known for saying ambiguous things, such as declaring that he’s going home for Christmas, even though he’s been living at home since his community service has started.
He spends his days freely; after finishing up his service for the day, he sometimes visits the dorms, or goes home, staring forlornly at his Twitter that hasn’t been updated since August thirty-first. Sometimes, he goes out shopping for nonsensical things, just because he has the time now, and because he likes spending money. He doesn’t always like spending time with the other members, because they talk about their schedules and activities, and although Heechul expected to be sad about no public appearances for the next two years-well, he didn’t think he’d be this sad.
When Super Show 4 kicks off in Seoul, he indulges in soju by himself and thinks about when these things didn’t matter-when the army was far away, when he functioned on pure adrenaline and the only problem that was present in his life was just the lack of sleep and an over-packed schedule. He looks around his room and feels incredibly lonely-these four walls aren’t his home, this place isn’t where he belongs. Which is why, with the faint buzz of alcohol in his veins, he pulls his cell phone out and mass texts everyone, I’m going home for Christmas this year.
Nobody bothers to text him back, except for Donghae (you should come to the karaoke with me and Chance ㅋㅋㅋ) and Ryeowook (hyung is coming home to us?? 캬캬). Heechul doesn’t care, really, and gets to preparing (but he does text Ryeowook back to set up a time so they can go Christmas shopping together).
“I need to buy something nice,” Heechul tells Ryeowook when they reach the shopping mall. “Something expensive.”
“For your mom?” Ryeowook asks. Heechul shakes his head. “Dad?” He shakes his head again. “Then who?”
“Home isn’t here, Ryeowook-ah.” It only takes one moment for it to click, and the realization dawns in the younger man’s eyes.
“Oh. Okay, how about…we go look at suits? Or ties?” Ryeowook is always dependable regardless, and Heechul is glad for it. He nods, and follows Ryeowook around until they reach a more high-class store.
(Honestly, he can’t even remember the last time he went gift shopping for him.)
“What color do you think he’ll like?” He asks Ryeowook, fingers lightly running over the different fabrics of the ties. All of them so lovely, so intricately made and maybe perfectly representing the person he’s buying them for.
“I think he’ll look good in red,” the younger man suggests. “Or purple.” There’s a pause. “What prompted you to make you do this?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Heechul shrugs. “Life?” Because ever since he joined the army, learned how to shoot a gun, got perfect scores in target practice, he thought that maybe there’s more to life than this. Maybe there’s something more to just letting go, to forgetting and moving on-maybe you’re supposed to remember. Maybe you’re supposed to hold on for dear life and not let go of the things that made you the happiest. Heechul’s realizing this a little late, but it’s better late than never, he supposes (and more importantly, he’s sorry-he’s so sorry for all of the pain, all of the heartache he may have caused-)
“I think I’ll go with purple,” he decides, picking up a tie. Ryeowook steps closer to take a better look.
“I think it’ll look good on him,” he says softly, and Heechul can only hope so.
(He’s not good at these things, at expressing himself, at saying sorry-but he’ll try. He has two years to do whatever stupid shit he wants without cameras following him every step of the way, and because of that, he’ll try.)
-
December twentieth, and he’s getting anxious. He bought a blank Christmas card a week ago but he hasn’t written anything in it yet-somehow, even after so many years of silence, he still can’t find something to say. Or maybe he can’t find the right thing to say.
December twenty-third and he gives up-slips the card back into its envelope and stuffs it into his bag, because his flight is in four hours. Maybe he’ll figure something out on the plane. Maybe not.
He’s a little scared-because maybe things won’t turn out the way he wants them to. Maybe this is all a big mistake and he’s just going to fuck everything up-he’s done that before. Fuck everything up, he means. Heechul does his best to keep face, but sometimes it’s hard, and-well. He just really hopes he doesn’t fuck this up.
He spends the plane ride thinking of the past-of normal nights accompanied by soju-nothing fancy and nothing special, but somehow holding more meaning than Heechul can remember. He’s occasionally afraid that what he remembers of Hangeng is all made up by his imagination; memory is a funny thing, and the events he believed to have happened might not have happened at all. The time Hangeng’s hand held his in support, sweaty but firm, solid, an anchor-Hangeng who is a man of few words but so many thoughts, and sometimes, if Heechul was lucky enough, he would see those thoughts reflected in Hangeng’s eyes or in the way he tilted his head.
Heechul doesn’t like being the one who ruins the mood, so he’s never said once that he misses Hangeng.
(But he does. Oh, how he does.)
China’s air is a little different from Korea’s; it’s a little muskier, a little damper, a little more intimate. When he leaves the airport and boards a taxi, he hands over a slip of paper to the driver, with an address written on it in poor Chinese. A moment later, and he’s moving.
How many years has it been?
(Before he left, Ryeowook asked him-“Why didn’t you tell him?” “Tell him what?” “How you felt.” “There’s nothing to tell, Ryeowook-ah. There’s no room for feelings around here, and you know that.”)
He fumbles with the cash when the taxi finally comes to a stop, and the driver rolls his eyes at Heechul. If only he knew who he was. Heechul steps out with his luggage in tow, taking a deep breath to calm his heart. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.
As it turns out, Hangeng lives in an apartment. Heechul takes the elevator to the eleventh floor, and stands in front of the door for just as many minutes before mustering the courage to ring the doorbell.
No one answers.
Of course. Hangeng would be out. Of course he’d be out-he’s not like Heechul, who stays home unless someone asks him of otherwise.
Now what?
He pulls his phone out, out of habit just so he looks occupied. Then he looks around, sighs, and slides down against the wall.
There’s nothing to do but wait, he supposes.
-
Heechul falls asleep waiting. His ass falls asleep too, but he doesn’t notice that until he wakes up. He vaguely remembers dreaming about a soft smile and an even softer voice, and wonders if he made everything up in his head. He rubs his eyes, and then-
The blur of Chinese goes in one ear and out the other, but he could never forget that voice. Heechul has spent too many nights listening to breaths entering and leaving those lips, listening to that voice on his iPod-when someone has imprinted himself so deeply in your heart, it’s impossible to forget him.
He looks up, and there he is-everything he’s been dreaming of for as long as he can remember.
“What-what are you doing here?” Hangeng’s Korean comes out stilted and awkward, probably from the lack of use.
“I said I was coming home for Christmas, didn’t I?” Heechul did have alcohol before sending that text, but he was nowhere near drunk enough to dismiss the fact that he purposely sent it to Hangeng as well.
“Well…” Hangeng looks at a loss for words as Heechul stands up, stretching and getting the kinks out of his joints. He’s getting too old for this. “Would you like to come in?”
He bites back an obviously, because he thinks it might be a bit too early to be snarky already. Hangeng lets him in, and he looks around the apartment-small, but enough because it’s only for one person. It’s clean, but there are obvious signs that Hangeng lives here-a dress shirt draped over the back of a kitchen chair, the mug that sits empty on the counter, the distinct scent of his cologne in the air. Heechul looks around and takes everything in and suddenly his throat closes up.
I’ve missed you, he almost whispers. (Instead, he says, “It’s nice.”)
“Thanks.” Hangeng shuffles over to the kitchen. “Do you want some tea? Did you eat yet? Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone…” Heechul glances at his watch-it’s nearing midnight. Huh. He’d been sleeping at Hangeng’s door for several hours.
“Maybe a little food would be nice,” he admits, thinking that this impromptu trip may not have been planned out very well. “Sorry, did you have plans?”
“Not tomorrow, but I’ll be spending Christmas with my parents. I still need to buy gifts for them, so if that’s considered having plans…” With every sentence, Hangeng’s Korean improves a little, and Heechul can’t stop staring at him-at how he’s filled out, how the lines of his face are a little bolder and how he seems a little…happier. Hangeng has always been happier without them, hasn’t he?
“Sorry,” he mutters again, unable to make eye contact.
“It’s okay.” He still sounds the same, though, with the way his voice curls around the consonants, the way the vowels roll off his tongue with what sounds like indifference (but it’s never indifference-just uncertainty of how to express himself). “You said you were coming home for Christmas-home welcomes you no matter what.”
And this time, Heechul really does say it. “I’ve missed you.” His voice nearly cracks on the last word, and Hangeng places a cup of tea in front of him before peeking into his fridge for something to eat.
Hangeng avoids what he said. “How’s the army?”
“Not bad. Pretty easy, actually.”
“Good.” The younger man pops something into the microwave and begins heating it up. “How’s your leg?”
Heechul glances down. “Holding up.” It all feels a little surreal, to be honest-he never would’ve thought that he would be able to see Hangeng again. It’s always been this far-off dream-not just his, but everyone’s. Everyone has wanted to see Hangeng ever since he left.
Hangeng places the food in front of Heechul. Fried rice-of course. He smiles fondly. Of course.
“I’ll get a pillow and blanket for you,” he tells Heechul. “You can sleep on the couch. You’ve had a hard day, haven’t you?”
“No? Why?” He unceremoniously shoves rice into his mouth.
“I’m not sure.” Hangeng’s gaze lingers on him for a moment. “Your eyes look tired, I guess.”
Could they ever look more tired than yours? “I guess.” He watches as Hangeng disappears into his room to get the pillow and blanket.
After Heechul finishes eating, Hangeng washes the tableware for him (some things just never change, he supposes) and he settles down on the couch. He does feel tired, for some reason, even though he didn’t do anything straining today. Hangeng bids him goodnight before retiring to his own room, and Heechul buries his face in his pillow. Falling asleep, breathing in Hangeng’s scent.
-
It’s the phone buzzing in his pocket that wakes him up. Heechul rolls over, upset that he’s disturbed from his sleep, and promptly falls onto the floor.
It’s Ryeowook. Did you make it there safely? Did you get kicked out? The others want to know where you are, should I tell them?
Right-he never did tell the others where he disappeared to. Tell them I’m home, he texts back. And that I won’t be back until after New Year’s.
You’re missing Sungmin-hyung’s birthday too?
Heechul pauses. I’ve celebrated Sungmin’s birthday with him every year. I can skip one or two.
The water in the bathroom is running, and unless Hangeng’s ridiculous habit of getting up really early has changed, then Heechul knows he shouldn’t be awake right now. He tosses his phone onto the floor somewhere and burrows back into his small nest on the couch, shutting his eyes. Surreal. This all feels surreal. Being in Hangeng’s home, hearing the sound of his water running-separated only by a wall or two, really, and this is the closest they’ve been in years-
When Hangeng steps out of the bathroom, Heechul hasn’t moved an inch.
“I don’t have a lot of food,” he hears Hangeng say. “Do you want a banana?”
“I’m not awake yet,” he replies, voice muffled by his pillow. “It’s too early to be awake.” He feels something fall on his back, and he knows Hangeng dropped the banana on him. He hears him shuffling away, the slippers scratching softly against the floorboards, before he hears the television turn on, Chinese immediately filling up the room.
Heechul turns his head and sees Hangeng in the armchair next to him, reading a newspaper with a cup of coffee on the small table next to him. His hair is damp and he’s only wearing a wifebeater and a pair of sweats.
Unfair.
It’s silent for a few long moments, him just laying there and watching Hangeng exist. Hangeng glances at him once over his newspaper. “You have a banana on your back, just so you know.”
And whose fault is that, Heechul wants to mutter, sitting up and grabbing the banana, eating it grudgingly.
“I need to go Christmas shopping for my parents later,” Hangeng says, not looking up from his newspaper. “Do you want to come?”
The answer leaves his lips before he can think it through-“What else am I going to do, stay here and trash your place while you’re gone?” There has always been a certain rhythm between them, and even with years of not being together, it’s frighteningly easy to fall back into it again. Just how deep has Heechul fallen?
A little later, after Heechul has washed up (in Hangeng’s bathroom, with Hangeng’s shampoo), they head out. Hangeng brings an umbrella with him, and frowning, Heechul asks why.
“The forecast said it’s going to snow a lot later. The snow around here gets really wet and sticky.”
“Wait, we’re not driving?”
Hangeng shoots him a look. “China is crowded enough as it is. You get around faster if you walk than if you drive.” Heechul doesn’t believe him, but zips up his jacket anyway. He has a hat on as well, one that he can pull down over his eyes, in case there are any people who happen to recognize him. The chances are small, in Hangeng’s hometown, but one can never be too careful. He’ll get so much shit from the management if they find out where he is.
They talk about nothing of importance as Hangeng shops for his parents, but Heechul can’t remember the last time he was this happy. After joining the army, things have been steady, easy-going, and he’s finally been getting his fair share of sleep, but this makes his heart jump, makes his blood start pumping again; being with the person he’s thought about every day since he left.
(Can I hold your hand? Can we indulge in simple things that we’ve never got a chance to experience before?)
When they leave the shopping mall, Hangeng’s hands are full of bags because he ended up picking up gifts for several other friends as well. As they walk back to his apartment, the snow begins to fall-large and fluffy snowflakes, clinging to hair and eyelashes.
(Hi, you’re beautiful.)
Heechul holds the umbrella between them, pulling his jacket tighter around his neck and keeping closer to Hangeng so the umbrella can cover more of the both of them.
“How is everyone?” Hangeng asks. “I heard about the hiatus.”
Heechul remembers Super Junior’s last performance, the fan chants loud enough to drown out the music. He remembers when they were told the news before the promotions for their fifth album even began-that this will be their last for an indefinite amount of time, and making music together as a group will come to a halt for now. Ever since preparations for their fifth album started, things have gone downhill in so many different ways that he’s glad Hangeng left-he wouldn’t have wanted Hangeng to experience pain like that.
“We’re okay,” he lies. “We still have the world tour to complete, and everyone still has schedules. It’s not like we’ve retired or anything, we’re still really busy.”
Hangeng looks straight at him as they wait at a street corner. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Heechul swallows. “Yeah, of course.” No, not really.
When they return to Hangeng’s apartment, they shake the snow off of themselves. Heechul’s shoulder is wet from the snow that the umbrella couldn’t protect, and his hands are cold too. The only difference between China and Korea is that China is a whole lot wetter.
“I get scared sometimes,” he says, so quiet that Hangeng almost misses it altogether. He’s leaning against the counter as Hangeng boils water for some tea.
“Of what?”
Heechul purposely plays with a cup so he doesn’t have to look at him. “That when I’m done with my service and go back…there’ll be nothing left.”
The other man scrutinizes him, eyes hard on him even though Heechul defies meeting his gaze. He has never doubted once that Hangeng has still cared even after he left, and this is proof of it. This isn’t the first time he’s been under his careful stare, waiting to be dissected because he’s too afraid to say how he really feels out loud.
“There will always be something left,” Hangeng finally says, pouring the hot water into two cups. “They’re family, aren’t they? Family is home. Home is always there.”
“And you’re part of that family too.”
There’s a brief hesitation before he answers. “Yeah, me too.”
When Hangeng hands Heechul the cup, their fingers brush, and Heechul forgets how to breathe for a moment.
“You don’t have to come back,” Heechul tells him. “I’ll stay here.”
Hangeng’s smile is soft-sad, the way it’s always looked, somehow. He’s always managed to look sad even in the middle of a laughing fit. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
He doesn’t have a proper answer to that. “You just can’t.”
Heechul puts his tea on the counter, the cup so hot that it’s close to burning his hand. “I can damn well do whatever I want, and no one can stop me.” He’s so close to Hangeng that he can clearly see the bags underneath his eyes, the eyelashes brushing his skin when he blinks. This proximity is nothing new to Heechul but he still finds it difficult to breathe, his heart racing at a hundred miles per hour-everything is Hangeng, all he knows is Hangeng-
Hangeng doesn’t move an inch when Heechul brushes their lips together, just barely. Hangeng is a man of control, and he’s frighteningly still in a moment like this, and Heechul is afraid that he’s done something wrong.
“I’ve missed you.” He says it again, a whisper ghosting across Hangeng’s mouth. Hangeng’s eyes are staring right into Heechul’s, searching for something and Heechul doesn’t know what. The corners of his eyes crinkle a little, and he almost looks grateful as he sets his tea down as well.
“You can’t do that,” he says simply, and Heechul almost wants to kick him.
“I can damn well do whatever I want,” he snaps, and kisses him again.
-
“Why purple?” Hangeng asks later when he unwraps Heechul’s present.
He shrugs. “Why not?”
The smile on his lips is faint, but it’s there. “Thank you, Heechul-ah. I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you-I wasn’t expecting…”
Heechul waves it off. “You better get me something next year.”
Hangeng looks genuinely surprised. “You’re coming next year too?”
“I don’t know why you even bother asking such stupid questions.” Heechul takes the tie from his hands and ties it for him, even though he’s only wearing a t-shirt. He looks ridiculous, the purple clashing with the yellow of his clothes, but Heechul ties it anyway-straightens it and smoothes it out once he’s done. “It looks good on you.”
Hangeng laughs quietly, the way he sometimes does when Heechul’s being ridiculous. “Thanks.” He’s tempted to pull Hangeng closer with the tie and taste his lips again-it’s such a sweet privilege, the soft slide of their mouths against each other. Even before Hangeng left, Heechul has never kissed him before, on stage or off. He’s always been too afraid-too much to lose, too much to gain. But time does things to people; the days and months tick past and Heechul finds that there is nothing more that he would like than to be able to kiss Hangeng whenever he pleased.
(And so he does. He kisses him-softly, gently, again and again and again.)
There are several things Heechul wants to say to Hangeng-the nonsensical thoughts that fluttered through his mind in the last few years, other stupid things that the members have pulled, and yeah, Ryeowook really does have abs now-but nothing comes out, and instead, he sits a little bit closer to him on the couch as they watch a Chinese movie with English subtitles. It’s a quiet night with Hangeng, quiet like it often is between them, but the fact that Hangeng let him in-the fact that he let Heechul be so close, let him back into his life as if Heechul never neglected him, never ignored his troubles until he actually had to run away-
Thank you. Heechul closes his eyes briefly, feeling his throat close up. Even if he has to go back to Korea, even if he has to continue with his military service, with activities as a Super Junior member (a Super Junior without Hangeng), these few hours, these few moments-
He leaves early next morning with a facemask on, sunglasses over his eyes and a hat for good measure. Hangeng sees him off at the lobby of his apartment, watching him board the taxi. They make no promises because they can’t, not when they are who they are-but there is hope, and just a little bit of faith-and maybe, Heechul thinks. Maybe.
“Have fun with your parents today,” he tells Hangeng, trying his best to sound composed.
“Be safe on your way back. Merry Christmas.”
When Heechul arrives at the airport, the hunger kicks in because all he had for breakfast was a cup of coffee. He takes out the banana that Hangeng packed for him, and eats it.
-
“on a rainy day, i hold an umbrella for you
remembering that time i got my right shoulder wet
protecting you on this side, where my heart beats”
- - -
- the beginning is incredibly rough, i know and i’m sorry but i just need to start writing longer fics again
- if you haven’t already noticed in the writing, i have an unhealthy love for geng’s voice (i just recently discovered 庚心 in hq and it’s like listening to new music all over again)
- hi, university hasn’t quite killed me off yet x___x
Pairing: Hangeng/Heechul
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4000
Suggested Listening: Han Geng - 撑伞 (Holding An Umbrella)
Summary: Heechul is a wanderer, but here, he’s grounded. (In which Christmas wishes aren’t that far-fetched after all.)
No one is taken aback when Heechul sends out a mass text, saying, I’m going home for Christmas this year. In fact, no one even cares. Heechul is known for saying ambiguous things, such as declaring that he’s going home for Christmas, even though he’s been living at home since his community service has started.
He spends his days freely; after finishing up his service for the day, he sometimes visits the dorms, or goes home, staring forlornly at his Twitter that hasn’t been updated since August thirty-first. Sometimes, he goes out shopping for nonsensical things, just because he has the time now, and because he likes spending money. He doesn’t always like spending time with the other members, because they talk about their schedules and activities, and although Heechul expected to be sad about no public appearances for the next two years-well, he didn’t think he’d be this sad.
When Super Show 4 kicks off in Seoul, he indulges in soju by himself and thinks about when these things didn’t matter-when the army was far away, when he functioned on pure adrenaline and the only problem that was present in his life was just the lack of sleep and an over-packed schedule. He looks around his room and feels incredibly lonely-these four walls aren’t his home, this place isn’t where he belongs. Which is why, with the faint buzz of alcohol in his veins, he pulls his cell phone out and mass texts everyone, I’m going home for Christmas this year.
Nobody bothers to text him back, except for Donghae (you should come to the karaoke with me and Chance ㅋㅋㅋ) and Ryeowook (hyung is coming home to us?? 캬캬). Heechul doesn’t care, really, and gets to preparing (but he does text Ryeowook back to set up a time so they can go Christmas shopping together).
“I need to buy something nice,” Heechul tells Ryeowook when they reach the shopping mall. “Something expensive.”
“For your mom?” Ryeowook asks. Heechul shakes his head. “Dad?” He shakes his head again. “Then who?”
“Home isn’t here, Ryeowook-ah.” It only takes one moment for it to click, and the realization dawns in the younger man’s eyes.
“Oh. Okay, how about…we go look at suits? Or ties?” Ryeowook is always dependable regardless, and Heechul is glad for it. He nods, and follows Ryeowook around until they reach a more high-class store.
(Honestly, he can’t even remember the last time he went gift shopping for him.)
“What color do you think he’ll like?” He asks Ryeowook, fingers lightly running over the different fabrics of the ties. All of them so lovely, so intricately made and maybe perfectly representing the person he’s buying them for.
“I think he’ll look good in red,” the younger man suggests. “Or purple.” There’s a pause. “What prompted you to make you do this?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Heechul shrugs. “Life?” Because ever since he joined the army, learned how to shoot a gun, got perfect scores in target practice, he thought that maybe there’s more to life than this. Maybe there’s something more to just letting go, to forgetting and moving on-maybe you’re supposed to remember. Maybe you’re supposed to hold on for dear life and not let go of the things that made you the happiest. Heechul’s realizing this a little late, but it’s better late than never, he supposes (and more importantly, he’s sorry-he’s so sorry for all of the pain, all of the heartache he may have caused-)
“I think I’ll go with purple,” he decides, picking up a tie. Ryeowook steps closer to take a better look.
“I think it’ll look good on him,” he says softly, and Heechul can only hope so.
(He’s not good at these things, at expressing himself, at saying sorry-but he’ll try. He has two years to do whatever stupid shit he wants without cameras following him every step of the way, and because of that, he’ll try.)
-
December twentieth, and he’s getting anxious. He bought a blank Christmas card a week ago but he hasn’t written anything in it yet-somehow, even after so many years of silence, he still can’t find something to say. Or maybe he can’t find the right thing to say.
December twenty-third and he gives up-slips the card back into its envelope and stuffs it into his bag, because his flight is in four hours. Maybe he’ll figure something out on the plane. Maybe not.
He’s a little scared-because maybe things won’t turn out the way he wants them to. Maybe this is all a big mistake and he’s just going to fuck everything up-he’s done that before. Fuck everything up, he means. Heechul does his best to keep face, but sometimes it’s hard, and-well. He just really hopes he doesn’t fuck this up.
He spends the plane ride thinking of the past-of normal nights accompanied by soju-nothing fancy and nothing special, but somehow holding more meaning than Heechul can remember. He’s occasionally afraid that what he remembers of Hangeng is all made up by his imagination; memory is a funny thing, and the events he believed to have happened might not have happened at all. The time Hangeng’s hand held his in support, sweaty but firm, solid, an anchor-Hangeng who is a man of few words but so many thoughts, and sometimes, if Heechul was lucky enough, he would see those thoughts reflected in Hangeng’s eyes or in the way he tilted his head.
Heechul doesn’t like being the one who ruins the mood, so he’s never said once that he misses Hangeng.
(But he does. Oh, how he does.)
China’s air is a little different from Korea’s; it’s a little muskier, a little damper, a little more intimate. When he leaves the airport and boards a taxi, he hands over a slip of paper to the driver, with an address written on it in poor Chinese. A moment later, and he’s moving.
How many years has it been?
(Before he left, Ryeowook asked him-“Why didn’t you tell him?” “Tell him what?” “How you felt.” “There’s nothing to tell, Ryeowook-ah. There’s no room for feelings around here, and you know that.”)
He fumbles with the cash when the taxi finally comes to a stop, and the driver rolls his eyes at Heechul. If only he knew who he was. Heechul steps out with his luggage in tow, taking a deep breath to calm his heart. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.
As it turns out, Hangeng lives in an apartment. Heechul takes the elevator to the eleventh floor, and stands in front of the door for just as many minutes before mustering the courage to ring the doorbell.
No one answers.
Of course. Hangeng would be out. Of course he’d be out-he’s not like Heechul, who stays home unless someone asks him of otherwise.
Now what?
He pulls his phone out, out of habit just so he looks occupied. Then he looks around, sighs, and slides down against the wall.
There’s nothing to do but wait, he supposes.
-
Heechul falls asleep waiting. His ass falls asleep too, but he doesn’t notice that until he wakes up. He vaguely remembers dreaming about a soft smile and an even softer voice, and wonders if he made everything up in his head. He rubs his eyes, and then-
The blur of Chinese goes in one ear and out the other, but he could never forget that voice. Heechul has spent too many nights listening to breaths entering and leaving those lips, listening to that voice on his iPod-when someone has imprinted himself so deeply in your heart, it’s impossible to forget him.
He looks up, and there he is-everything he’s been dreaming of for as long as he can remember.
“What-what are you doing here?” Hangeng’s Korean comes out stilted and awkward, probably from the lack of use.
“I said I was coming home for Christmas, didn’t I?” Heechul did have alcohol before sending that text, but he was nowhere near drunk enough to dismiss the fact that he purposely sent it to Hangeng as well.
“Well…” Hangeng looks at a loss for words as Heechul stands up, stretching and getting the kinks out of his joints. He’s getting too old for this. “Would you like to come in?”
He bites back an obviously, because he thinks it might be a bit too early to be snarky already. Hangeng lets him in, and he looks around the apartment-small, but enough because it’s only for one person. It’s clean, but there are obvious signs that Hangeng lives here-a dress shirt draped over the back of a kitchen chair, the mug that sits empty on the counter, the distinct scent of his cologne in the air. Heechul looks around and takes everything in and suddenly his throat closes up.
I’ve missed you, he almost whispers. (Instead, he says, “It’s nice.”)
“Thanks.” Hangeng shuffles over to the kitchen. “Do you want some tea? Did you eat yet? Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone…” Heechul glances at his watch-it’s nearing midnight. Huh. He’d been sleeping at Hangeng’s door for several hours.
“Maybe a little food would be nice,” he admits, thinking that this impromptu trip may not have been planned out very well. “Sorry, did you have plans?”
“Not tomorrow, but I’ll be spending Christmas with my parents. I still need to buy gifts for them, so if that’s considered having plans…” With every sentence, Hangeng’s Korean improves a little, and Heechul can’t stop staring at him-at how he’s filled out, how the lines of his face are a little bolder and how he seems a little…happier. Hangeng has always been happier without them, hasn’t he?
“Sorry,” he mutters again, unable to make eye contact.
“It’s okay.” He still sounds the same, though, with the way his voice curls around the consonants, the way the vowels roll off his tongue with what sounds like indifference (but it’s never indifference-just uncertainty of how to express himself). “You said you were coming home for Christmas-home welcomes you no matter what.”
And this time, Heechul really does say it. “I’ve missed you.” His voice nearly cracks on the last word, and Hangeng places a cup of tea in front of him before peeking into his fridge for something to eat.
Hangeng avoids what he said. “How’s the army?”
“Not bad. Pretty easy, actually.”
“Good.” The younger man pops something into the microwave and begins heating it up. “How’s your leg?”
Heechul glances down. “Holding up.” It all feels a little surreal, to be honest-he never would’ve thought that he would be able to see Hangeng again. It’s always been this far-off dream-not just his, but everyone’s. Everyone has wanted to see Hangeng ever since he left.
Hangeng places the food in front of Heechul. Fried rice-of course. He smiles fondly. Of course.
“I’ll get a pillow and blanket for you,” he tells Heechul. “You can sleep on the couch. You’ve had a hard day, haven’t you?”
“No? Why?” He unceremoniously shoves rice into his mouth.
“I’m not sure.” Hangeng’s gaze lingers on him for a moment. “Your eyes look tired, I guess.”
Could they ever look more tired than yours? “I guess.” He watches as Hangeng disappears into his room to get the pillow and blanket.
After Heechul finishes eating, Hangeng washes the tableware for him (some things just never change, he supposes) and he settles down on the couch. He does feel tired, for some reason, even though he didn’t do anything straining today. Hangeng bids him goodnight before retiring to his own room, and Heechul buries his face in his pillow. Falling asleep, breathing in Hangeng’s scent.
-
It’s the phone buzzing in his pocket that wakes him up. Heechul rolls over, upset that he’s disturbed from his sleep, and promptly falls onto the floor.
It’s Ryeowook. Did you make it there safely? Did you get kicked out? The others want to know where you are, should I tell them?
Right-he never did tell the others where he disappeared to. Tell them I’m home, he texts back. And that I won’t be back until after New Year’s.
You’re missing Sungmin-hyung’s birthday too?
Heechul pauses. I’ve celebrated Sungmin’s birthday with him every year. I can skip one or two.
The water in the bathroom is running, and unless Hangeng’s ridiculous habit of getting up really early has changed, then Heechul knows he shouldn’t be awake right now. He tosses his phone onto the floor somewhere and burrows back into his small nest on the couch, shutting his eyes. Surreal. This all feels surreal. Being in Hangeng’s home, hearing the sound of his water running-separated only by a wall or two, really, and this is the closest they’ve been in years-
When Hangeng steps out of the bathroom, Heechul hasn’t moved an inch.
“I don’t have a lot of food,” he hears Hangeng say. “Do you want a banana?”
“I’m not awake yet,” he replies, voice muffled by his pillow. “It’s too early to be awake.” He feels something fall on his back, and he knows Hangeng dropped the banana on him. He hears him shuffling away, the slippers scratching softly against the floorboards, before he hears the television turn on, Chinese immediately filling up the room.
Heechul turns his head and sees Hangeng in the armchair next to him, reading a newspaper with a cup of coffee on the small table next to him. His hair is damp and he’s only wearing a wifebeater and a pair of sweats.
Unfair.
It’s silent for a few long moments, him just laying there and watching Hangeng exist. Hangeng glances at him once over his newspaper. “You have a banana on your back, just so you know.”
And whose fault is that, Heechul wants to mutter, sitting up and grabbing the banana, eating it grudgingly.
“I need to go Christmas shopping for my parents later,” Hangeng says, not looking up from his newspaper. “Do you want to come?”
The answer leaves his lips before he can think it through-“What else am I going to do, stay here and trash your place while you’re gone?” There has always been a certain rhythm between them, and even with years of not being together, it’s frighteningly easy to fall back into it again. Just how deep has Heechul fallen?
A little later, after Heechul has washed up (in Hangeng’s bathroom, with Hangeng’s shampoo), they head out. Hangeng brings an umbrella with him, and frowning, Heechul asks why.
“The forecast said it’s going to snow a lot later. The snow around here gets really wet and sticky.”
“Wait, we’re not driving?”
Hangeng shoots him a look. “China is crowded enough as it is. You get around faster if you walk than if you drive.” Heechul doesn’t believe him, but zips up his jacket anyway. He has a hat on as well, one that he can pull down over his eyes, in case there are any people who happen to recognize him. The chances are small, in Hangeng’s hometown, but one can never be too careful. He’ll get so much shit from the management if they find out where he is.
They talk about nothing of importance as Hangeng shops for his parents, but Heechul can’t remember the last time he was this happy. After joining the army, things have been steady, easy-going, and he’s finally been getting his fair share of sleep, but this makes his heart jump, makes his blood start pumping again; being with the person he’s thought about every day since he left.
(Can I hold your hand? Can we indulge in simple things that we’ve never got a chance to experience before?)
When they leave the shopping mall, Hangeng’s hands are full of bags because he ended up picking up gifts for several other friends as well. As they walk back to his apartment, the snow begins to fall-large and fluffy snowflakes, clinging to hair and eyelashes.
(Hi, you’re beautiful.)
Heechul holds the umbrella between them, pulling his jacket tighter around his neck and keeping closer to Hangeng so the umbrella can cover more of the both of them.
“How is everyone?” Hangeng asks. “I heard about the hiatus.”
Heechul remembers Super Junior’s last performance, the fan chants loud enough to drown out the music. He remembers when they were told the news before the promotions for their fifth album even began-that this will be their last for an indefinite amount of time, and making music together as a group will come to a halt for now. Ever since preparations for their fifth album started, things have gone downhill in so many different ways that he’s glad Hangeng left-he wouldn’t have wanted Hangeng to experience pain like that.
“We’re okay,” he lies. “We still have the world tour to complete, and everyone still has schedules. It’s not like we’ve retired or anything, we’re still really busy.”
Hangeng looks straight at him as they wait at a street corner. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Heechul swallows. “Yeah, of course.” No, not really.
When they return to Hangeng’s apartment, they shake the snow off of themselves. Heechul’s shoulder is wet from the snow that the umbrella couldn’t protect, and his hands are cold too. The only difference between China and Korea is that China is a whole lot wetter.
“I get scared sometimes,” he says, so quiet that Hangeng almost misses it altogether. He’s leaning against the counter as Hangeng boils water for some tea.
“Of what?”
Heechul purposely plays with a cup so he doesn’t have to look at him. “That when I’m done with my service and go back…there’ll be nothing left.”
The other man scrutinizes him, eyes hard on him even though Heechul defies meeting his gaze. He has never doubted once that Hangeng has still cared even after he left, and this is proof of it. This isn’t the first time he’s been under his careful stare, waiting to be dissected because he’s too afraid to say how he really feels out loud.
“There will always be something left,” Hangeng finally says, pouring the hot water into two cups. “They’re family, aren’t they? Family is home. Home is always there.”
“And you’re part of that family too.”
There’s a brief hesitation before he answers. “Yeah, me too.”
When Hangeng hands Heechul the cup, their fingers brush, and Heechul forgets how to breathe for a moment.
“You don’t have to come back,” Heechul tells him. “I’ll stay here.”
Hangeng’s smile is soft-sad, the way it’s always looked, somehow. He’s always managed to look sad even in the middle of a laughing fit. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
He doesn’t have a proper answer to that. “You just can’t.”
Heechul puts his tea on the counter, the cup so hot that it’s close to burning his hand. “I can damn well do whatever I want, and no one can stop me.” He’s so close to Hangeng that he can clearly see the bags underneath his eyes, the eyelashes brushing his skin when he blinks. This proximity is nothing new to Heechul but he still finds it difficult to breathe, his heart racing at a hundred miles per hour-everything is Hangeng, all he knows is Hangeng-
Hangeng doesn’t move an inch when Heechul brushes their lips together, just barely. Hangeng is a man of control, and he’s frighteningly still in a moment like this, and Heechul is afraid that he’s done something wrong.
“I’ve missed you.” He says it again, a whisper ghosting across Hangeng’s mouth. Hangeng’s eyes are staring right into Heechul’s, searching for something and Heechul doesn’t know what. The corners of his eyes crinkle a little, and he almost looks grateful as he sets his tea down as well.
“You can’t do that,” he says simply, and Heechul almost wants to kick him.
“I can damn well do whatever I want,” he snaps, and kisses him again.
-
“Why purple?” Hangeng asks later when he unwraps Heechul’s present.
He shrugs. “Why not?”
The smile on his lips is faint, but it’s there. “Thank you, Heechul-ah. I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you-I wasn’t expecting…”
Heechul waves it off. “You better get me something next year.”
Hangeng looks genuinely surprised. “You’re coming next year too?”
“I don’t know why you even bother asking such stupid questions.” Heechul takes the tie from his hands and ties it for him, even though he’s only wearing a t-shirt. He looks ridiculous, the purple clashing with the yellow of his clothes, but Heechul ties it anyway-straightens it and smoothes it out once he’s done. “It looks good on you.”
Hangeng laughs quietly, the way he sometimes does when Heechul’s being ridiculous. “Thanks.” He’s tempted to pull Hangeng closer with the tie and taste his lips again-it’s such a sweet privilege, the soft slide of their mouths against each other. Even before Hangeng left, Heechul has never kissed him before, on stage or off. He’s always been too afraid-too much to lose, too much to gain. But time does things to people; the days and months tick past and Heechul finds that there is nothing more that he would like than to be able to kiss Hangeng whenever he pleased.
(And so he does. He kisses him-softly, gently, again and again and again.)
There are several things Heechul wants to say to Hangeng-the nonsensical thoughts that fluttered through his mind in the last few years, other stupid things that the members have pulled, and yeah, Ryeowook really does have abs now-but nothing comes out, and instead, he sits a little bit closer to him on the couch as they watch a Chinese movie with English subtitles. It’s a quiet night with Hangeng, quiet like it often is between them, but the fact that Hangeng let him in-the fact that he let Heechul be so close, let him back into his life as if Heechul never neglected him, never ignored his troubles until he actually had to run away-
Thank you. Heechul closes his eyes briefly, feeling his throat close up. Even if he has to go back to Korea, even if he has to continue with his military service, with activities as a Super Junior member (a Super Junior without Hangeng), these few hours, these few moments-
He leaves early next morning with a facemask on, sunglasses over his eyes and a hat for good measure. Hangeng sees him off at the lobby of his apartment, watching him board the taxi. They make no promises because they can’t, not when they are who they are-but there is hope, and just a little bit of faith-and maybe, Heechul thinks. Maybe.
“Have fun with your parents today,” he tells Hangeng, trying his best to sound composed.
“Be safe on your way back. Merry Christmas.”
When Heechul arrives at the airport, the hunger kicks in because all he had for breakfast was a cup of coffee. He takes out the banana that Hangeng packed for him, and eats it.
-
“on a rainy day, i hold an umbrella for you
remembering that time i got my right shoulder wet
protecting you on this side, where my heart beats”
- - -
- the beginning is incredibly rough, i know and i’m sorry but i just need to start writing longer fics again
- if you haven’t already noticed in the writing, i have an unhealthy love for geng’s voice (i just recently discovered 庚心 in hq and it’s like listening to new music all over again)
- hi, university hasn’t quite killed me off yet x___x