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English
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Part 1 of lil 17hols dump
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Seventeen Holidays
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Published:
2022-04-16
Words:
1,260
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1/1
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16
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285
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a thousand roots, growing

Summary:

They keep growing, the two of them.

Notes:

originally posted for 17hols here. made some very minor spelling/grammar edits, added a few sentences, and redid a bit of a section but nothing too major!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

 

 

 

         And it is true what you said
         That I live like a hermit in my own head

         -Death Cab for Cutie

 

 

At Jeju, when they visit Seungkwan’s home, they share a bed.

 

“Sorry,” Seungkwan apologizes, mouth pursing when he looks over the twin-sized bed. It’ll be a tight squeeze for two of them, meant for a younger, smaller Seungkwan. His room is cluttered, but well taken care of even in his absence. Relics of the young Seungkwan’s life in girl group posters and abandoned notebooks. Hansol likes it. “I should’ve realized…”

 

“It’s cool,” Hansol says. Brushing the concern aside.

 

They’ve shared a bed before, the two of them. Countless times.

 

No big deal, Hansol thinks. 



–

 

Hansol’s bed doesn’t smell right. He is fourteen, alone in the dorm, too anxious to sleep, and his bed doesn’t smell right. His mom uses a specific detergent, clean and floral. Comforting. 

 

There is none of that comfort here. These sheets are dry, dusty - dirty. To his horror, tears start to drip from his eyes. He wipes at his face furiously, but they persist, falling fast until he has to cover his mouth to muffle his sobs.

 

His brain spins cruelly in response to his tears. You said you could handle it, staying here, leaving home, what are you doing -

 

“Hansol?” 

 

Seungkwan’s voice is so bright even as a whisper, breaking through the miserable cloud shrouding Hansol. A sunbeam, at two in the morning, sitting up in the bed across from Hansol’s. “Are you crying?”

 

The tears keep falling, but Hansol finds his voice when he focuses on Seungkwan. Guiding light. “Can you come here?” he whispers wetly. 

 

The shuffle of sheets, the patter of footsteps, and Seungkwan is slipping in beside him. Hansol sniffles, and Seungkwan’s arms are around him. Knowing exactly what Hansol needs before he asks.

 

Hansol falls asleep, lulled by Seungkwan’s heartbeat.

 

–

 

“I know we pulled straws, but you can room with Seungkwan if you want,” Soonyoung offers. Hansol’s stomach turns inside out at his words. “I can talk to hyung - “

 

“No.” Hansol clears his throat. “No, it’s okay. It’s cool.”

 

Soonyoung tilts his head in confusion but Hansol puts his earphones in before he can push the issue. He knows Soonyoung is only being nice, but it’s for the best. Really. Even though Seungkwan had pouted, full of disappointment, “why can’t we pick our roommates hyuuuuung?” Hansol had forced a laugh at his silliness and everyone else laughed along with him.

 

But really. He can’t. He can’t. If Seungkwan is right across from him, in the same room, Hansol doesn’t think he’ll be strong enough to resist.

 

Resist what exactly, Hansol is too afraid to think about.

 

They keep growing, the two of them. Hansol, more like an awkward weed, while Seungkwan blooms beautifully, the tallest sunflower in the field. They keep growing, and so does this thing in Hansol’s chest. Sprouted from the minute Seungkwan smiled at him for the first time.

 

–

 

Dinner is just the two of them. Seungkwan’s mom serves the food, cooking all of Seungkwan’s old favorites, before leaving them alone with a knowing smile that makes Hansol’s skin flush. Any paranoid thoughts disappear with the spoonful of marinated crab Seungkwan shoves in his mouth. His mouth is an explosion of delightful flavor.

 

“Haaa, this is so good!”

 

“Isn’t it?” Seungkwan watches him eat with sparkling eyes. Grin stretching further and further with every compliment that spills out of Hansol’s mouth. Hansol eats and eats until he’s bursting, wanting to bask in Seungkwan’s contagious happiness for as long as possible. “I’ll make a Jeju boy out of you,” Seungkwan laughs at him after they’ve cleared the table.

 

Please, Hansol does not say. Does not beg.

 

–

 

When he was too young to name the thing in his chest, Hansol used to cling to Seungkwan as freely as Seungkwan clings to him now. Uncaring of the hyungs’ stupid giggles, the staff's pointed glances. Blissfully and happily unaware, free to live in his and Seungkwan's bubble. Sharing space until they couldn't recognize which pieces of their hearts belonged to who.

 

He's older, the first time he tries to name the floaty, tickling sensation that comes around every time he hears Seungkwan sings. The word that first comes to mind instantly shuts him down. Their bubble bursts and suddenly it's not just them anymore. The awareness of the eyes on them is so sharp, it's painful, and he's unable to bear the weight. 

 

He can’t. He can’t. It’s easier to push Seungkwan away, than to tend to the mess in his chest. It's easier to ignore it, than to face that word again. He tries to stamp down the growth, but it’s ivy, it’s moss, spreading fast no matter how much Hansol snips away at it. Rejecting Seungkwan’s invitations, avoiding his touch. Looking away from his sad eyes. Desperately trying to kill it. 

 

Still, no matter what he does, Seungkwan continues to water it. Unknowingly, unflinchingly. Keeping it strong. Blooming steadfast with his love.

 

–

 

“Aren’t you too tall? Chwe Hansol,” Seungkwan grumbles as he tries to get comfortable. Hansol is flat on his back, eyes closed, trying to ignore Seungkwan’s too-warm body squirming next to him in the tiny bed.

 

“Sleep like a normal person,” Hansol murmurs. He’s warm too, belly full from dinner. A weird feeling, for his muscles to be so relaxed while his brain is buzzing. He carefully doesn’t react when Seungkwan settles on curling on his side, chin resting on Hansol’s shoulder. Close. Very close. They've been this close before, but Hansol's chest still constricts.

 

“You’re sleeping like a starfish,” Seungkwan snickers, poking Hansol’s cheek. “Shall I tell you a bedtime story, Hansollie?”

 

“Mm.” Hansol tries to keep his eyes closed but he can’t resist. He opens them, watching Seungkwan gesture wildly as he recounts some silly tale from his school days. Hansol stares, the way he always does, because when it’s Seungkwan, there’s no looking away.

 

At one point, Seungkwan laughs at his own joke, head thrown back, incandescent in his glee, and Hansol can feel it again. He feels it all the time now; in his fingers that itch to reach out, in his throat demanding him to speak. It’s spread entirely, growing into his veins, soaked in his blood. 

 

This blooming for Seungkwan, it's taken over him entirely. Too big to ignore anymore.

 

He exhales. Shaky. Soft.

 

Seungkwan notices his staring. “Sol-ah, did you say something?”

 

Hansol caves. He turns on his side too, so that they’re facing each other. Wordlessly, he extends his hand and Seungkwan takes it, smile softening with tenderness. Hansol never wants to leave this bed. They could make a home here, just the two of them. He wants to open his mouth, and let the tangled overgrowth pass from between his lungs, into Seungkwan’s. That way, he'd know the same roots are nestled in both their hearts. 

 

“We can sleep like this,” Seungkwan says drowsily, eyes slipping shut. “Holding… hands…”

 

Hansol watches Seungkwan fall asleep. They’re close enough that he can feel the warmth of Seungkwan’s breath on his cheek. His hand still curled in Hansol’s. 

 

Hansol lies there, emptying every word he does not say in the silent space between them. Impossibly wishing that Seungkwan will wake in the morning, knowing it all.

 

 

 

 

and you laugh.
loudly —
head tipping back.
and while your eyes
are on the ceiling,
i am mouthing
something too heavy even
for this steady night to shoulder.
‘this is not a joke.” i mouth.
‘love me. love me.’

-letters from Medea, salma deera

 

Notes:

please listen to my darling viv's excellent podfic for this.

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