#graphitefox

Seungcheol is not good at entertaining himself.

You’re curled up on the sofa with a new novel, enjoying the personal time you’ve carved out just for this activity. A breeze ruffles the curtains, occasionally lifting the page of your book. An open bag of cookies rests on the sofa arm beside you.

It’s perfect: snack, comfortable weather, engaging novel.

And Seungcheol can’t stand it.

He’s trying, and you know it. After all, you respect his personal time when he games with Wonwoo, spends hours shouting and swearing at the computer screen. You’ve chosen a quieter hobby, but your time is no less precious. He knows this; he still wants more of it.

So he hovers, moving from room to room, throwing you yearning glances that you ignore in favor of turning pages. He’s bored, and a bored Seungcheol never keeps to himself for very long.

Sure enough, twenty pages and four cookies in, he pads over to you. Your gaze flickers towards him as he settles down on the cushion beside you.

“What are you doing?”

He lifts up the book he’s holding. “I’m going to read with you.”

Laughing, you say, “No. You’re going to fall asleep.”

As expected, his lower lip juts out immediately. “I won’t! Just ignore me, I’m not even here.”

“Mhm.” You pass him a cookie and go back to your book.

Another few minutes tick by. You can feel Seungcheol shifting beside you. Finally, he lowers his head into your lap, tucking himself just under your arm.

You move your book so you can look down at him. “Getting ready to sleep?”

He scowls up at you, thick brows pulling tight. It never ceases to amuse you how your buff, manly boyfriend manages to look like such a pouty child half the time.

“I won’t,” he asserts. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

“Uhuh.”

You lift your arms a little higher to accommodate him and turn another page. This book is more compelling than you expected, because you find yourself absorbed in it. All thoughts of your fidgety boyfriend disappear as you eat up line after line, consuming the story as quickly as you can. It’s not often that you find a book this good; by the time you reach a stopping point, you’re a little dazed. Tucking your receipt back between the pages, you blink a few times to reorient yourself.

You haven’t heard from Seungcheol in a while. When you set your book down, you find him sound asleep. His head is turned towards you, cheek pressed against your thigh. You’re not sure when he fell asleep, but it couldn’t have been long. The book he chose is hugged close to his chest, bookmark in the same place it was before.

Told you so, you think, but you can’t help but feel fond. He’s so pretty like this, full lashes stark against his warm skin, lips gently parted as he breathes. You try to go back to your book but you’re no longer interested. Instead, you watch him sleep, just like you do on mornings when you wake up first and there’s nowhere to be.

It’s a view you never get tired of.

It’s only when your leg starts to tingle that you shift, making his breath catch. 

“Cheol,” you whisper, stroking your thumb over his cheek. “Time to wake up.”

His dark eyes find yours, half-lidded, still hazy with sleep. “Mm…” 

You watch with amusement as awareness washes over him like a lazy wave.

“I fell asleep,” he tells you sheepishly. 

“Yes, I noticed,” you tease. “Just like I said you would.”

He cranes his neck up and catches sight of your book, closed on the sofa arm beside the half-empty box of cookies. “Are you done?”

“For now.”

“Does that mean we can do something together now?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hold back your smile.“You can’t handle being alone, can you?”

“Not if you’re around, no.” 

The earnest way he says it makes your heart flutter. It’s too sweet–you can’t even tease him about it. And even though you sometimes pretend otherwise, you love the way he’s attracted to you, like your opposite magnet.

Combing your fingers through his hair, you ask, “Okay then, what do you want to do?”

Seungcheol leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. “Doesn’t matter. Just wanna be with you.”

It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. Picking up your book, you crack it open. “Reading it is, then.”

It’s a lazy evening. You’re laying back against the sofa arm, book in hand, feet resting on Seungcheol’s thighs as he scrolls aimlessly through his phone. The sun is starting to set just enough that you reach back to turn the lamp on, filling the room with warm light.

As you come out of your comfortable haze, you realize that you’re hungry. Seungcheol must realize the same thing, because he proclaims, “I’m going to cook us dinner.”

You lower your book to give him an uneasy look. “I was thinking I’d just make us something simple tonight.”

But he’s got that determined look on his face that you know you won’t win against. All you can do is go along with it and hope things turn out okay.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask lightly, hoping your voice doesn’t betray your anxiety. Seungcheol doesn’t often cook but when he does, it never turns out quite right. Meat cooked a bit too long, soups a little overseasoned. His heart is in the right place, but he lacks the technique to see his creations through.

You’ve tried to teach him over the years, but he’s stubborn. He’s convinced he has the “chef instinct” and it’s just a matter of unlocking it.

“Sundubu jjigae!” he announces cheerfully. He lifts your ankles before setting them back onto the cushion, and heads into the kitchen.

Sighing, you slip your bookmark between the pages and slide your book under a throw pillow. Overseasoned soft tofu stew it is. At least there’s instant rice. He can’t ruin rice.

That’s not true, you realize. He’s microwaved it almost to burning before. Maybe you should offer to handle the rice.

Seungcheol is already pulling things out of the fridge. You can hear him humming as he painstakingly chops the vegetables. No matter how many times you’ve tried to show him how to properly chop, he always brushes you off and continues doing things his way.

Which is why you can’t bear to go in there and watch what he’s doing. You take your time fluffing the sofa pillows, refolding the blanket that Joshua lovingly crocheted the two of you as an anniversary gift. It’s a bit itchy and sometimes your toes get caught in the gaps, but it’s a sweet gift so you keep it on the sofa anyway.

Seungcheol often remarks that he’s glad Joshua gave up that particular hobby before it got more out of hand; secretly, so are you. Similarly, you wish Seungcheol would give up his desire to cook. Your cookware wishes the same thing.

“Ow!”

Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, you head into the kitchen. There’s a mess of half-chopped vegetables on the counter and a cutting board overflowing with uneven ingredients. Seungcheol is rummaging in the fridge.

“Are you sure this is right?” You hover near the pot, which is close to boiling over. 

Seungcheol nudges you out of the way to check. His hair is pushed up on one side where he keeps touching it while he checks his phone. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s supposed to look like that.”

“But is it supposed to smell like that?” you press, fighting the urge to turn down the stove. When Seungcheol insisted on making dinner tonight, you were wary. Now, seeing him in action, you’re downright stressed.

“Seungcheol–”

“Have some faith in me, will you? I read the recipe this time, and I–oh!”

The bubbling pot really has boiled over now; reflexively, he grabs for it before you can stop him, getting hot liquid over his fingers. 

His pained whine hurts your heart. Clicking off the stove, you drag him over to the sink and thrust his hand under the cold water. The two of you stand there for a minute, letting the water rush over his reddened fingers.

When you finally shut off the water to check the extent of his injury, he sighs. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know. I definitely know.”

The burn isn’t too bad. Using a clean towel, you dry off his hand before turning towards the stove. Maybe you can at least salvage dinner.

Except, looking at the remains of the soup, you’re not sure you want to. It doesn’t look edible.

“I give up,” he says, tossing the towel onto the counter. “I can’t cook.”

“Darn,” you tease him, hugging him from behind and resting your cheek against his broad back. “No house husband for me.”

“I can do other things,” he protests. “I can clean stuff. Laundry…take out the trash. Stuff like that.”

“Mm. Looks like we’ll just have to split the responsibilities. I can get behind that.”

“What about dinner?”

“Spam egg rice sound good?”

While Seungcheol gingerly cleans up the mess he’s made, you fry off some cubes of spam and scramble some eggs with green onion. Sliding the fluffy eggs over some steaming instant rice, you add a little drizzle of kewpie mayo and some more green onion and sesame seeds for decoration before presenting him with a bowl.

“Nothing fancy, but how’s that for a quick dinner?”

He takes the bowl, looking morose all the while. “Just once I’d like to be the one making you something delicious. I don’t know why I have a kitchen curse.”

“No. Hansol has a kitchen curse,” you correct. “You just don’t listen very well.”

“I try.”

“You don’t. You’re stubborn and ridiculous about it no matter how many times I try to tell you what to do.” Seeing the pout spreading across his handsome face, you pinch his cheek. “And I love you so much anyway.”

He gives you a sulky look that makes your heart fond. “How much?”

“So, so much.”

“How much is so, so much?”

“Enough that I’m willing to put up with you destroying my pans.”

He glances at the stove before ducking his head. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Yes, you will. Now let’s go eat before it gets cold.”

You’re almost asleep when your phone alarm goes off. Confused and groggy, you grope around on the mattress, finally pulling your phone up to your face.

Seungcheollie’s birthday!!

It’s 11:50 p.m. on August 7th. Ten minutes before his actual birthday, because your boyfriend–no, ex-boyfriend–likes to be wished a happy birthday right at midnight. It makes him feel loved and special. And you still have an alarm set for it.

Groaning, you toss your phone back onto the bed. That’s not what you needed to see right now. You’ve already been thinking about him more than you should lately, partially because you’re lonely, and partially because…well. It’s Seungcheol.

Minghao mentioned him the other day in passing, just a slip of the tongue over lunch. He’s normally not absentminded and hearing Seungcheol’s name caught you both off guard. Minghao apologized, but Seungcheol has been stuck in your mind like a splinter ever since.

And now it’s his birthday. 

You don’t know what to do about that. Even before you dated, you always wished him a happy birthday at midnight, or close to. Now that you’re…nothing, not even friends really, you don’t know how to handle it.

And it’s not that you can’t be friends, it’s just that you wiped everything about him out of your life because it made you sad to think about him. Everything except this fucking reminder alarm.

He would wish you a happy birthday. If you don’t, if you ignore him, you’re the asshole. You don’t want to be the petulant one. 

You also don’t want to seem too eager.

Buuuut, you also want to win.

Five minutes until midnight. You pull up a new thread and start typing. Hey! Happy Birthday!

No. Too energetic.

Hey, happy birthday. Have a good day.

Too prescriptive. Too cold. Also, you’re running out of time.

At midnight precisely, you send: Happy birthday! I hope whatever you’re doing that it’s a good day.

Good. It’s fine. The right balance of enthusiasm and distance. Only one exclamation point. Weird grammar, but whatever.

It’s only now that you’ve sent it that you realize sending him a midnight text after not speaking to him for months looks insane. You could have just sent one in the morning like a normal human being. Like everyone else.

Also, fuck, he’s read it. Seconds later, your phone starts ringing in your hands. Groaning, you fight the urge to hide it under your pillow. He knows you’re here. It’s not like you can just get out of it now.

“That’s all I get?”

His low, sulky voice echoes out of the speaker. Immediately, you roll your eyes.

“What do you want? We’re not together. I acknowledged it at least. I could have just ignored it.”

You couldn’t have. You’re not that type of person and he knows it.

“All right, all right. Thank you for the birthday text.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence. Prickly, uncomfortable.

“So…” you start, just as he says, “So, how’ve you been?”

You both pause. Sighing, you say, “Seungcheol, we don’t have to do this.”

“No, but you sent me a birthday text at midnight. That’s something.”

“It’s ‘I forgot to remove my reminder alarm and I felt like I should say something.’ That’s all. I regret it.”

“You don’t.”

“I kind of do.”

“But only kind of,” he challenges.

Flopping back against the pillows, you stare at your phone. At the silly photo of him that’s still his icon. You remember when you took it: he was tipsy and cute and happy and making the babiest of faces and you snapped a great shot and immortalized it as his icon, much to his annoyance. It still makes you smile, even now.

“Don’t read too much into it,” you warn him. “Anyway, I was trying to go to bed.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He doesn’t sound very sorry. He also doesn’t hang up. 

After a moment he adds, “You could come over.”

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly. 

Seungcheol’s voice is rushed. “Not for sex! I didn’t mean it like that if that’s what you were thinking. I just meant to talk. Catch up.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Enjoy your birthday.”

“Wait! Wait, okay. I overstepped. Just…can we talk a little more?”

He sounds so desperate, so sad, that it makes you linger, even though you know you shouldn’t. What you should do is hang up, block him, never wish him a happy birthday again. Let it go. Let him go.

Instead, you wait.

“I…was really hoping you’d be the one to do it. To wish me happy birthday at midnight.”

“Did I win?” you ask, unable to stop yourself.

Seungcheol chuckles. “Jeonghan beat you again.”

Like always. “Bastard.”

“But you came second.”

That sounds about right. In your relationship you were always second place: to his friends, to his job, to everything. He’d tell you he was on his way and show up an hour later. When you both had a rare day off that overlapped, he’d spend half of it sleeping in or playing computer games with Wonwoo and Mingyu.

And you never threw a fit. You never begged for him. You just filled your life with friends and activities to get revenge on him and it worked so well that towards the end you felt like breaking up was easy. He didn’t need you in his life the way you wanted him to. So then what was the point?

Except…the more you think about it, the more you realize there were little signs. He’d show up late but he’d show up with flowers. He’d disappear to play games with the guys but he’d save his evenings for you. And he’d always try to make it up to you with gifts. And while you didn’t want flowers or gifts, you only wanted his attention, you recognize now that it was his way of apologizing. Of attempting to do better. And you never really gave him that chance.

Maybe neither of you had enough time to adjust from single life into the kind of relationship either of you wanted or expected. Which means that’s not just Seungcheol’s fault then.

“I know I didn’t do a very good job,” he says gently. “But it wasn’t from a lack of wanting to.”

“I don’t think either of us gave it a fair chance,” you admit.

“I felt like you didn’t really want me.”

You close your eyes for a second. Inhale. “I wanted you. Too much to admit it.” I still want you. You’re grateful you have enough self-control to keep the second part to yourself.

“I think about you all the time. All the time. I’ve wanted to text you so many times and I just lose the courage.”

“Why? Am I that scary?”

“I feel like I only have one more shot and I don’t want to mess it up. Not this time.”

He sounds like a crazy person. He sounds like standing outside your window with a speaker kind of crazy and you’re not sure how you went from texting him happy birthday to this.

“Seungcheol, what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying let’s try again,” he says earnestly. “I’m saying let’s be all in this time. I can do so much better, I promise. I can be the man you really deserve.”

“You’re insane. Truly.”

“I’m saying I’m willing to try.”

“You’re saying crazy things.”

But still, he presses. “I’m saying…it’s my birthday and I want to see you. Can I come over?”

He’s taking real advantage of this whole birthday thing and you want to tell him that. You want to tell him to shove it and leave you alone. But you also want to let him. 

You’ve known from the moment you picked up the damn phone and heard his voice that you were going to break. Because that’s what he does to you, even now. Especially now.

“Yes.”

Seungcheol hums his approval; you can picture his smile, the deep dimple in his cheek. He’s irresistible to you. God, everyone is going to be insufferable if you date him again. Not after you made such a fuss.

But you’ve missed being held and no one holds you like him. You’ve missed being kissed, and no one does that right, either. Just him. Just Seungcheol. 

“But give me ten minutes,” you rush to say, realizing you’re in your “skipped laundry day” pajama set. You don’t know what you’ll find in ten minutes, but there has to be something better than this.

“Too late,” he says fondly. “I’m already outside your door. Let me in?”

You hear it now, the barest of knocks. Each one makes your heart jump.

“Seungcheol…”

“Please?”

Swallowing, you head over to your door and peer through the peephole. Sure enough, Seungcheol is standing on your step, dressed in an oversized black hoodie. His full cheeks and pouty lips are still visible under the hood; if you let him in you’re definitely going to kiss him.

He’s still holding his phone. You watch him say your name, softly, sweetly, into the receiver. It echoes back to you inside your apartment.