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Honestly, the whole thing is almost laughably cliché.
“This doesn’t happen,” Seungkwan tells Hansol crossly, pacing up and down his balcony. “No, I refuse to believe this. What kind of stupid novel is this?”
“Uh,” says Hansol awkwardly, looking just as unfairly attractive in the middle of Seungkwan’s garden as he did just a few hours ago, in his mother’s ballroom. “Should I just… go?”
“But… You know those stories, right? The stories that Carats sometimes write about us?” Seungkwan asked, and Vernon stared at him in disbelief. Because yes, he did know. He knew about fanfiction. That couldn't be what this was about though, could it? "Are you mad at me because--because I broke up with you in a fanfic? Seungkwan, we aren't even dating."
Seungkwan helps SEVENTEEN find fanfiction. And they're into it. For the most part.
- the terrible burden of knowing and having a fat ass
Hansol has been working out lately. Seungkwan knew this because he’s been the one nagging him to do it, but he only just Realised.
There was some kind of elaborate prank being played on him by the universe, Seungkwan thought as he eyed the phone number the barista had written on the side of his iced americano warily.
“Wow,” Seokmin whistled, “that’s the second one this month. You’re a verifiable Casanova.”
Seungkwan huffed out a nervous laugh, “Haha, very funny.” He continued to squint at the phone number, which was followed by the name Eunji written in neat handwriting and a smiley face. Maybe, if he looked at it close enough, he could figure out what the fuck was happening.
-
Or, Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung finally get one of their YouTube videos to go viral, and the universe has decided that Seungkwan is attractive now. This is news to Hansol, who’s known that Seungkwan was cute since they were 15.
- ❥ possibly maybe i’m falling for you
Hansol doesn’t blush.
And there are no butterflies forming in his stomach.
His heart isn’t fluttering over a Youtuber, shut up.
Who says love is the most beautiful thing on earth?
“Does your family know about me?” Seungkwan asks curiously, feigning a casual demeanour as he pokes the straw around his smoothie. Hansol looks up, a startled expression on his face.
“Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t they?”
Something knots itself in Seungkwan’s stomach. Jealousy, or maybe guilt. He tries to swallow it back down.
to: unknown hey, i found your number on a dollar bill that was left in my tip jar this morning. do you just write your number on all your currency before you put it out into the world?
from: unknown what
---
seungkwan stares at his phone, because what was unclear, and the person can't even use punctuation?
He was a ghost, he was a boy. Can I make it any more obvious?
Seungkwan's nine years of happy haunting are disturbed when a pretty boy walks into his home. For the first time in forever, he feels himself being seen.
“Ow, fuck that hurts, Hansol!” Seungkwan hisses. “You’re clinically insane for thinking humans were meant to stick wheels on a wooden board and just, like, do flips and shit on it,” Hansol ignores him in favor of wiping a hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton pad over his scraped up knee, not in the least bit sympathetic to Seungkwan’s plight.
A story of tie-dye sweatshirts, of strawberry fields, of an old creaky treehouse, of viscous summery sweetness, of kissing under the laundry room’s neon lights. A story of Seungkwan and Vernon and how they became something bigger than the universe.
aug 9 2021 +