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starry-bi-sky · 8 months

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Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college?

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now.

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it.

They’re still not sure if they should let him go.

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in.

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves.

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being.

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things.

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.)

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad.

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air.

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to.

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud.

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words.

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil.

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died.

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.)

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”)

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.)

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.)

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core.

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help.

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.”

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.)

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.)

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples.

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself.

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them.

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own.

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop.

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story.

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.)

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest.

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.”

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders.

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.”

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.”

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.)

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face.

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time.

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air.

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise.

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one.

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything.

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call.

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?”

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame.

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth.

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.”

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.”

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs.

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem.

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.”

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.”

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it.

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.”

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth.

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him.

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.)

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.”

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin.

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better.

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can.

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?”

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks.

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall.

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.”

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm.

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches.

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood.

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.”

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider.

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise.

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle.

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad.

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham.

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite.

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune.

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple.

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim.

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy.

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes.

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it.

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever.

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state.

-----

Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #cw swearing #cw smoking #im calling them short stories bc if i call them chapters i might intimidate myself #fun fact every single chapter will have a crane wives lyric on it i am DETERMINED #i hope yall are subscribed to this on ao3 bc i almost didnt post this on tumblr #the fentons being good parents were a surprise to me too but also i never really planned on them being BAD parents #okay so they appear as negligent in the first post but we'll just call that a plothole #i had the idea that danny was the angrier one out of the duo earlier today and it felt like an epiphany #there's no guarantee of a next part but yk immm kinda hoping there is #on the docs the ending bullet point for this chapter was #'make it feel like a tv show where the seemingly inconspicuous and friendly character has something sinister up their sleeve'#WE know that danny's not inconspicuous in the least he's been thinking of this murder for the last five years. but nobody but red hood know #i had to come up with a in-story reason why danny doesnt kill the joker NOW but my out-of-story excuse is: there'd be no tension otherwise #its about the BUILD UP. Its about the RISING TENSION. Its about KNOWING that danny is planning to kill the Joker but you dont know WHEN #its about knowing that something is going to explode but never knowing when #i made the doc yesterday and spent my entire pluralism for educators class going thru the crane wives albums and looking up the lyrics and #matching them to the *checks doc* 18 short story prompts i have prepared #i am still missing one :((#its the tim and danny story and i have NOTHING PLANNED FOR THEM. i cant think of a thing for them to bond over :(( so i cant match a CW son #even DICK has a story and that was also a surprise #my favorite lines: He was always the one with glass in his mouth cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world #aND danny slapping his door like a used car salesman and going 'now people wont ask why i have a creepy fucking door in my studio aptm :)'

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wooahaes · 10 months

Text

under the sun [jeonghan]

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 11.5k~

warnings: skinship. food + alcohol mentions. jeonghan denying his feelings a bit. one kiss with dubious consent (reader is drunk and kisses jeonghan) that gets addressed and apologized for.

daisy’s notes: me fighting for my life trying to finish this fic before the end of july

< day 3 || masterlist ||

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world… and between you and one of them.

Jeonghan worried about you more than he would ever admit out loud. Despite the fact that he knew you were cared for (by everyone, but especially by Chan, who seemed to follow after your every step like a puppy--overjoyed, no doubt, that he was no longer the “new kid” in the group), you were still on the quieter side. It was too early for him to know for sure if you were just a quiet person, like Minghao, or if you were uncomfortable. While Seungcheol led the group well, a watchful eye on everything and any potential problems, Jeonghan was always the one who served as the shoulder to cry on or a listening ear when Seungcheol was too intimidating to approach. Sure, he could tease from time to time--but it was always toward people he knew could handle it (no bad days there) and out of love.

So Jeonghan snuck away after he helped the others wash laundry one morning and found you out in the gardens. There were enough people that your absence wouldn’t be missed if he just happened to steal you away for a little break.

“You look tired,” he said from the foot of the tree you were picking fruit from. “Do you wanna take a break?”

“Chan told me not to,” you said with a concerned frown. “If you need to rest, it’s okay. But Chan said that it just creates more work for the others when--”

“It'll be okay,” he said. “It’s better to rest than to overwork yourself.”

Truthfully, Jeonghan knew you were overworking yourself. Always eager to pick up a task whenever someone needed a favor done, or making sure to put your all into doing chores correctly so that it would be less stress on anyone else. You shouldered the work the same way Seungcheol did without much of a fuss. Maybe that was why Jeonghan worried about you: you seemed to be cut from the same cloth as Seungcheol in certain ways. He wondered if you felt the need to “earn your keep” even though they would have let you stay if you physically couldn’t.

“How many were you supposed to pick?” He nodded up at the ripe peaches just within your reach.

“Enough for all of us.”

“And how many do you have?”

You looked away sheepishly. “Like... maybe twenty.”

“You don’t need to do anymore,” he said. “You did your part. The others can handle the rest. Come take a nap with me.”

“But--”

Jeonghan extended a hand up, “If you get in trouble, I’ll take the blame. You need to rest before you burn yourself out.”

With a sigh, you relented: you’d leave your share inside the church at the very least before going off with him. So he smiled to himself as he watched you search for a safe enough place out of the way to leave your picked fruit, and extended his hand back out to you. When you took it, he merely gave you a reassuring squeeze before heading out toward the river. He’d mapped out nice napping places forever ago, and he was sure every single person in the group (except you, but you’d learn in time) knew where all of them were. On other days, he’d bring a blanket with him. Maybe next time he stole you away, he would--or maybe the two of you could hide out in the attic, cozy on that bed underneath the sun window. It was usually a pretty good spot to nap, especially since everyone tried to clean that room first when they were on cleaning duty. Less people to disturb Jeonghan’s rest.

Yet he didn’t want to nap anymore when he was lying out in the grass. You had sat down next to him, still sitting up and watching the river pass by. If you looked close enough, you could see the occasional fish. The river always felt so clear most of the time, and yet occasionally you’d see one darting through the water--almost like the universe was taunting you.

“Are you adjusting well?” Jeonghan asked, finally sitting up after a few minutes of just watching you silently sit there. “You can tell me if you’re having a tough time. A lot of people do, to begin with.”

You looked up, uncertainty etched into every feature. “I’m fine,” you said, and Jeonghan could tell it was a lie. “I mean... I’m adjusting. It’s just taking some getting used to, that’s all.”

He frowned. Despite the way you seemed to get along with the youngest three in the group, Jeonghan noticed that you still seemed a little quiet around the others. Soonyoung you’d cuddle with during some nights (usually because he wanted you close by--he liked cuddling and you seemed happy to let him snuggle in), but the others... Jeonghan had kept an eye on and an ear open for any concerns. Joshua had outright told him that he was worried you might change your mind about staying--something he and Seungcheol had talked about one night.

Which Jeonghan understood. Seungcheol had told him you wondered if there were other people out there. Jeonghan had questioned it, too, before Seungcheol told him that he hadn’t seen anyone else. He wanted to leave, too. That was before they found Joshua. Truth be told, Jeonghan still wanted to go--only when it was getting too late for him to think straight. He’d made peace with that urge long ago, yet it still scratched at the back of his mind, begging to be let back in.

Would you go with him if he asked? Jeonghan pushed the thought away. No point in thinking about things like that when he had a group to help care for, you included.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked quietly. “I know I can’t relate to being uncomfortable, but I’m happy to help if I can.”

He watched you breathe in slowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He could practically see the way you were weighing your options: open up to Jeonghan, or shoulder the problems longer on your own. Is that why Seungcheol seemed so attached to you sometimes? Because you were a little like him? Even though the reasons differed, both of you seemed to carry the weight of your problems alone despite there being others there ready to help lighten the load.

“I dunno,” you finally said after a slow exhale. “It’s not that I don’t like being here with you all, it’s just...”

“Just?” Jeonghan prompted. You can tell me.

Another deep breath. “I just feel like I’m intruding on something. Chan and Hansol and Seungkwan always try to stick by me--Chan more than the others--but... I dunno. Sometimes it feels like I’m not fully 'one of you’ now. Especially since I couldn’t remember my name on my own.”

Jeonghan frowned. Jihoon had pointed out the pale gray lettering in the collar of your shirt that day--it felt right to say it to you. Maybe it was a mistake, but Jeonghan didn’t want you to go by a name that wasn’t fully yours longer than you had to. Everyone else had hated it--some more than others--and there had been relief in getting that key part of themself back. Was it wrong to tell it to you instead of letting you remember? Would you even remember without his prompting?

“It’s dumb,” you traced a finger through the small patch of dirt, “but... I think all of you are close enough already. Even Chan seems to be a part of the group more than I am, you know? Chan can go off with you or Hansol or whoever and fit right in. I’m just... here.”

“You don’t think we like you?”

“It’s not that--” You looked up. “I just don’t feel like I fit in. Sometimes you guys tell stories that I like listening to, but I can’t help but feel left out of a joke. I don’t want that to stop you guys from reminiscing, I just... I wish I knew how to make memories with you guys without feeling like I’m forcing myself where I don’t belong.”

Jeonghan had already begun formulating plans in his head. He wasn’t going to force the group together, but... Sometimes they’d get together for things. Maybe he could push the others to put something together, an open invitation for everyone to be a part of it. Just to be together as a group again. Hansol had that old projector that he liked to set up sometimes to watch old films with them--maybe Jeonghan could bring that up over dinner one day just to put the idea out there.

If you weren’t feeling like part of the group, then Jeonghan was sure he would fix that. If Seungcheol was right and the fourteen of you were all that’s left, you needed to stay together. Seungcheol had enough on his plate. Jeonghan could handle this.

He laid a hand over your own. “You do belong here if that’s where you want to be.” He looked you in the eyes, “Do you want to be here?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

“Then it’s okay,” he said. “You’re still new. Just give it a little more time.”

You smiled at him after a moment, more genuine than the nervous ones you’d given him before. “Thank you, Jeonghan. I feel a little better.”

“If you ever need to talk, you can talk to me,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jeonghan found Minghao working in a corner, painting a little tree onto the landscape. He sat down beside him, watching him work slowly but happily. Despite the fact that Minghao got along great with everyone else, the guy liked to have his moments alone--and Jeonghan had, admittedly, given him that. Minghao had been painting alone for the past hour, and Jeonghan would give him space again if that’s what he wanted.

“Minghao,” he said, voice soft enough to keep the conversation between them. Mingyu and Seokmin were working on dinner that day. “Do you remember when you used to guide us through meditation?”

He nodded, not looking up. “It’s been a few weeks.”

“Would you like to do it again?” Jeonghan watched as Minghao added a little red apple into the tree. “I think it really helped us before.”

“Did it?” He looked up just for a moment. “Some of you fell asleep.”

Soonyoung had, and so did Seungcheol. Admittedly the two that Jeonghan fully expected to last time--it was a few days before Chan’s one-month celebration and Seungcheol had been a bit tense about the whole thing, which meant Soonyoung was going to get tense because he wanted it to be good as well. Jeonghan knew the tension would come again in a week when your celebration was closer.

“Because it helped,” Jeonghan insisted. “If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. It looked like you enjoyed it last time.”

Minghao nodded along, brows furrowed slightly as he thought it over. “I’ll see if anyone’s interested.”

“Ask Mouse,” Jeonghan said. “They might be interested in meditation.”

Minghao nodded. “I will,” he said. “Did they say something?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “Just trying to make sure they’re included.”

A soft chuckle. An eye roll. Jeonghan almost definitely knew what he was thinking: team mom Jeonghan was back. He had a track record of doting on the other members and making sure they were being cared for.

“I’ll talk to them,” Minghao said after a moment. “I don’t know if they’ll be interested.”

Sure enough, you were. Jeonghan had agreed to be there when Minghao had gathered them in the church a few days later. While not everyone was partaking (a few of them were working on getting things prepared for dinner later, opting to prioritize prep-work over meditation), Jeonghan was happy with the turnout. The chairs had been stacked and put away, Jeonghan sitting in the back as he watched Minghao slowly weave in-between the different people lying on the floor--you included. Minghao stopped near you at one point, not pausing in his speech at all as he crouched down and gently moved you into a more comfortable position.

The air grew quieter for a moment. “Better?” Minghao whispered to you.

You merely nodded, and then Minghao continued on, calmly speaking in that same even tone of voice. He stepped over where he’d just positioned your arm a little further out without any sign of annoyance at his own decision, continuing to slowly walk between the different people. He paused as he looked at Jeonghan, giving a tiny nod to the others. It’s not too late to join them.

Jeonghan merely raised a hand to signal that he was fine. He didn’t need any meditation. You needed the group activity. Maybe Jeonghan could talk him into doing another yoga day sometime--that had been fun to watch last time. This worked, too, though. When Minghao’s back was turned, he saw the way you opened your eyes just for a moment--meeting gazes with Mingyu--and then smiled at him. It was something small, but it was a little connection that was being strengthened through shared experience. That was what Jeonghan had wanted.

Jeonghan noticed the way Seungkwan was about to head outside until he saw the scene before him. Minghao had given him a pointed look--everyone knew that he was going to do meditation today, and Seungkwan was one of the ones who hadn’t felt up to it. Jeonghan quickly rose to his feet, making his way to the edge of the room and gesturing for him to come over--avoiding anyone sprawled out a little too close to the walls. With an open hand, Jeonghan kept his arm outstretched for Seungkwan to make his way over, gently guiding him out of the church. He quietly shut the door behind him, standing out in the warm summer air with him for a moment.

Seungkwan had already been mid-apology when Jeonghan asked if he wanted to go for a walk with him. Just down to the river, where they could walk together for a bit. By the time they’d get back, Minghao’s meditation session would be over. So Seungkwan nodded, agreed, and walked a step behind him as the two went together for a while.

“Have you come up with anything new with Seokmin and Soonyoung?” Jeonghan asked at one point, hands tucked into his pants pockets. Sometimes the three came up with their own little songs and dances that they’d show off after bringing everyone together. It was nice and always a fun time.

Seungkwan looked up, humming in acknowledgement before thinking the question over. “There’s something we’ve been doing,” he admit.

“Jihoon’s still working on things,” he said. “I think Hansol has, too. Maybe we should have another music night.”

Seungkwan lit up at the suggestion. “Why now?”

“Why not?” Jeonghan continued along, hands still lazily hanging from his pockets with each slow step. “They’re fun. Jihoon’s comfortable showing Mouse his music, even though it’s not done.”

None of it ever is. Not the songs Hansol worked on in his spare time, not the songs the trio worked on: nothing was ever finished. Jeonghan had heard Jun mutter a lyric that he later heard from Minghao. When he asked, neither of them knew the song--they both said the same excuse that it was probably something they knew in their old life. They made things work, though: Soonyoung had been the one who proposed Jihoon share his songs with the others an eternity ago.

(”Maybe we might know part of it, if it’s a song someone else wrote...” )

It’d been a while, though, since the last one. Sure, they shared music with one another during Chan’s celebration, but before then... Jeonghan was sure that the last night they had dedicated to it was a week before Chan showed up.

Seungkwan hummed to himself softly as he thought, brows set in tight concentration as he weighed the options (to do or to not: the only options he had) against one another. When Jeonghan said he’d talk to Seungcheol about getting it set up, Seungkwan slowly nodded, as that must have helped tip his decision over.

“Okay,” he said. “But you have to help set up.”

Jeonghan laughed warmly, throwing an arm around Seungkwan’s shoulders. “I will,” he promised. “You just get the others together. We’ll figure out plans once I distract them.”

Seungkwan accepted that and, once the two returned to the now-finished meditation session, already went off to get Seokmin and Joshua to go find Jihoon. Jeonghan saw the way you lit up as you talked to Minghao about something, and he casually slipped into the conversation to see if maybe he could push you toward Minghao. If nothing came of it, then fine, but at least it meant that maybe the two of you would grow closer as people in general. He’d been talking about meditation and ways to find peace.

“Like with your paintings,” Jeonghan had casually said, an arm curling around you.

Minghao nodded. “Right. Painting helps, too.”

“Why don’t you show them your work?” Jeonghan gently nudged you forward. “Maybe they’ll take up painting, too...”

Minghao raised his brows, and Jeonghan was sure that if you hadn’t been watching him, he would have mouthed a ‘What are you doing?’ to him.

But you’d grown a little more excited, “Oh! I’d love to hear about them, actually,” you then grew a little more sheepish, most likely over remembering the fact that you and Minghao weren’t exactly the closest so far. “If... that’s okay, I mean.”

Jeonghan could see the way Minghao lit up, though, and he happily obliged. Which meant that you had that cute twinkle in your eyes again, and Jeonghan found himself smiling as the two of you went off--Minghao taking your hand as he guided you down into the passage leading back to the main room, just to secure you. He’d heard your happy giggle as you went, and he let out a quiet sigh.

As long as you were happy... then Jeonghan would be, too.

Music nights were common enough occurrences, for the most part. They already knew how to set up the church to make things look nice: the stage set with a microphone and the acoustic guitars, chairs lined up in rows (some of them with designated seats, as if it’s their own little VIP preserved seating, with those little plush animals to designate each person). Seokmin roped Mingyu and Jun into helping with making snacks for this, and Jeonghan can hear Joshua and Jihoon as they check over everything to make sure tonight will be ready. Jeonghan, on the other hand, was focused on the seating arrangements. Sure, they could sit anywhere... But he’d quietly picked up the tiger-striped hamster that’d been sitting in a chair next to a mouse, and set the otter from the end of the row next to it instead. He hadn’t noticed anything sparking between you and Minghao, but you and Chan...

Well. He left his rabbit plush on your other side. Just to ensure that you’d be able to enjoy yourself tonight, and to play wingman for Chan. The guy probably needed a little help considering how flustered he’d get with you.

People began to filter in once Seungkwan gave word that everything was prepared. There was a loose enough schedule for tonight, starting with Seungkwan performing something he’d been working on with Seokmin and Soonyoung, followed by either Jihoon or Hansol performing whatever they’d been writing lately. From there, they’d play it by ear: plenty of the others had things to share. Dances they’d choreographed, songs they’d grown better at playing... And Jeonghan would stand by, watching as people took their seats. He noticed the way Chan lit up upon realizing he’d be next to you, and he’d already warmly greeted you with that love-struck look on his face that everyone else seemed to notice except you.

Jeonghan settled in on the other side of you, and didn’t fail to notice the tiny way you shifted a little closer to him. He chalked it up to the fact you seemed to be drifting toward him a lot more lately, probably because he’d been trying to include you in things more. It was a guaranteed space where you felt loved and appreciated. That was all he’d let it be, at least.

Wonwoo had been asked to essentially emcee the beginning of the night, and he’d been the one to introduce Soon-Seok-Seung (which... in Jeonghan’s opinion, still felt off, but maybe a smidge better than the previous ‘Soon-Seok-Kwan’) in a song they’d been working on. Which made Jeonghan realize something: you, despite hearing Jihoon and Joshua sing, had no idea how talented all of them were. Music was something that unified all of them, and Jeonghan wasn’t afraid to say that all of them were pretty talented at it.

“Are you going to do something?” He’d whispered to you as Chan went to prepare for his own performance.

You shook your head. “I don’t think I’m as good as you guys.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, and when you nodded, he decided he wouldn’t push. “That’s fine,” he said. “You can stay here and enjoy the others’ performances with me, then.”

Of course, this wouldn’t ring true for too long. Once the night devolved into singing other songs they’d found on records and whatnot, Joshua had pulled him into a duet. Jeonghan had tried to dodge it--he’d already told you he’d stay with you, after all--but Joshua had taunted him a bit and it’d been enough to get him up to sing. He’d do one song and then go back to you (although now that he saw the way Chan was holding your hand, the two of you happily snuggled together... maybe he’d stay up a little longer).

He kicked himself a little for noticing the way you lit up when you heard him sing, and for the way it made his heart flutter a little. He already liked you from the first day you came, but this only endeared you to him further. But if anyone asked if he felt anything over the fact that Chan was so lovingly holding onto you, he’d deny it. Not while Chan clearly felt something for you. Not while other people did, too.

Instead, he settled for pulling you into the next group song that they’d begun singing at the top of their lungs. Although your voice was far quieter than the others, he could hear you underneath the cacophony of chaos around him. Every lowly sung syllable hit his ears, alongside the warm sound of your laughter at the others dancing goofily, throwing themselves fully into enjoying this song. Soonyoung had turned, seeing you, and Jeonghan recognized the twinkle in his eyes.

So with a light shove, he pushed you toward Soonyoung, who’d extended a hand to you. You’d shot him a look over your shoulder, but Soonyoung happily swept you away into dancing with him instead. The way you laughed would stick with Jeonghan for the rest of the night, leaving him with a warm sense of joy over another job well done. You’d fallen asleep in Soonyoung’s arms that night, giggling as he and Seokmin continued to pepper kisses onto your skin, saying something about teaching you one of their dances sometimes.

When Jeonghan woke up the next morning, he realized how much you looked like you belonged there. You always did, in his eyes, but now... It truly felt like you were one of them in every way, happily curled up and completely at peace in a way he hadn’t seen before. You were finding your home with them.

Jeonghan smiled to himself at the thought.

A few days later, Jeonghan had called out to you as you lounged around the common area, a book you’d borrowed from Wonwoo in your hands. You held it to your chest as you made your way over to where he was packing wrapped meals into a bag alongside Jun and Joshua, and he’d already begun to fill you in: the three of them were going on a little picnic outside today. The weather wasn’t too hot, and they’d been wanting to go out for a while now...

“Do you want to join us?” He asked. He nodded toward the other two, “It was their idea.”

(Jeonghan, unfortunately, did not notice the look Jun and Joshua shared behind his back--which said to you that Jeonghan had just outright lied to you.)

“Are you sure?” You glanced over to Joshua, who’d continued to pack extra food into the bag. “I don’t want to bother you guys--”

“You aren’t!” Jun piped up immediately, making his way over. “We’d be glad to have you, if you want to come.”

With the extra support, you agreed to come along. The blanket had been handed to you to carry along, and you followed along behind them as they talked casually. Joshua and Jun seemed to head the charge, while Jeonghan lingered behind, just to stay in step with you. He’d waved casually enough to Soonyoung, who had lit up with realization that the five of you were going off for some sort of picnic, and darted off while calling out to Jihoon. Maybe you should have realized then and there that this wasn’t going to be limited to the four of you. While Joshua had found a cozy place for the four of you to eat, it’d barely been maybe twenty minutes at the most before you heard Soonyoung yelling for you all.

And where there was Soonyoung, there was the rest of the group. He’d found you five with ease and took off running, carrying a bag and a blanket in his own arms.

“What if we wanted to come?!” He huffed at Jeonghan more than Joshua or Jun, who’d giggled at how pouty the man had become.

Jeonghan had smiled, shoulder bumping against yours as he shifted into a more comfortable sitting position. “We didn’t say you couldn’t--”

“You didn’t tell us where you were going,” Chan whined as he made his way over, already taking up the empty space next to you. “That makes it look like you guys wanted to be alone.”

Jeonghan had rolled his eyes, making a comment that they found you all, didn’t they? Soon enough, everyone had joined all of you, blankets spread out and the conversation flying as you all ate yet another meal together. It was something you truly began to appreciate during your time living with them: breakfast and dinner together always felt like a way to center you all. It brought you all together, and it reminded you that you were cared for. Even now, Jun casually fed you a piece of fruit when he saw you eyeing it in the spread he’d set out, too far for you to reach casually since it was settled between himself and Joshua. There were plenty of dinners where he did the same for you, or he served you extra rice to make sure you were eating well... It was sweet to see. Jeonghan would wordlessly move the fruit closer to you after a moment, continuing on in his conversation without a care.

Eventually, the remnants of this meal was set aside to be carried back in when all of you decided to head in for the day. While you had been happy to sit with Jeonghan on your picnic blanket, the others had brought along other things to do. Mingyu had pulled out a ball to kick around with the others, already bringing up a game they must have played before you came--which had fired up Seungkwan immediately when he claimed that the last victory was a fluke. You watched as part of the group broke off and into two teams, taking the ball off to a more spacious area to hopefully avoid disrupting the rest of you. Wonwoo had decided to pass on the game this time, though (although not without Mingyu pouting at him for abandoning their team). You had pulled out the book that Wonwoo had given you, and you noticed the subtle way his eyes lit up with joy when he saw you’d brought it along, and he made a small comment that you should tell him how you like it eventually.

Jeonghan had been watching Seungcheol with the others when he spoke up a while later, mind seemingly elsewhere this entire time. “You know,” he said, “we almost left this once.”

You turned to him. “You... almost left?”

As if on cue, Joshua had been making his way over to rest for a few minutes, settling in on the other side of you. “Yeah,” he said. “Before Jun came, actually. It was... a really, really big fight we had with Seungcheol.”

Jeonghan nodded along, not quite looking at you past a tiny glance before he continued to watch Seungcheol. “When I first woke up here, Seungcheol hated how I kept asking questions all the time. He’d already accepted a lot of things as fact. But I didn’t know them, so I would ask.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And when I asked him why we don’t move on, he asked me why we should leave when we have everything here? And... I thought he was right.”

“And then I came along,” Joshua said, “and I asked a lot of the same questions--even after I saw Jeonghan end up with a fever because he’d asked too many. Whenever Cheol wasn’t around, we’d keep talking about things. Wondering what else was out there, why we’re staying here when there could be people out there.”

Jeonghan continued the story from there, “We agreed on a lot of it. And one day, I think we were both tired of never getting answers. So I looked at him, and I said, ‘Shua, let’s leave together.’ And he looked at me, and said ‘Jeonghan, let’s leave.’“

Even recounting the story now... Jeonghan felt an odd sense of familiarity with those words. As though they weren’t exact, but they were close enough to invoke a feeling that had long since been sleeping in his soul.

“So why didn’t you?” You leaned forward a little, trying to gauge anything from his face.

And with uncanny timing, Jeonghan and Joshua spoke together: “Cheol.”

Joshua shifted in his spot. “We went to Cheol, and we told him we were going to leave. And... I don’t remember who started crying first. It was one of us,” he leaned to where he could see Jeonghan, “because Cheol didn’t cry until after--although he definitely looked like he was going to at any moment--”

“It was me,” Jeonghan openly admitted, voice a little softer while did so. Not out of shame, from what you could tell. Jeonghan never seemed ashamed of his emotions. “But you cried after I broke.”

“Neither of us wanted to leave, but... I don’t know. We kept questioning it, and it felt like we were trapped here without real answers.” Joshua’s gaze settled on Seungcheol, who’d nearly run into Mingyu while chasing the ball. “And then Seungcheol started crying because we were all he had.”

“We were all any of us had,” Jeonghan tugged at the grass, pulling up loose strands. “But if I had left with Shua, then he wouldn’t have had anyone. He opened up to us after that, actually. He tried to leave a few times before I came along. He’d pack a bag, and walk, and eventually end up coming back here in the end because it was the safer place to be.” He looked up, “So when he kept saying he didn’t think anyone was out there... He meant it.”

“Would you leave?” You asked, curling up a little tighter in your spot. “Now, I mean.”

Joshua didn’t hesitate, “No. You’ve never seen the city, Mouse. I think we’re really all that’s left now.”

And Jeonghan said nothing, only nodding along as he didn’t meet your eyes.

Joshua popped up from his spot. “You wanna play?” He nodded, offering a hand to you. “I think I’m gonna join back in.”

You shook your head. “I’m happy here with Hannie,” you said. “But thanks, Shua.”

“Keep this stuff to yourself, by the way,” Joshua said as he stretched in place. “We’ve never really told the others about it. We didn’t want anyone to think we’d take off one day.”

With the secured promise that you wouldn’t tell, Joshua ruffled your hair and returned to the game, running in to try and steal the ball from someone else. Jeonghan, however, remained quiet. You turned, watching him as he merely continued to watch the game, his gaze always returning to Seungcheol. And now with Joshua back in, he’d glance his way sometime, too, and linger a little too long...

“Jeonghan?” You said quietly, and he looked up with a hum. “Would... you leave?”

He shook his head. “This is home,” he said. “I don’t think I could leave it for anything now. Like Joshua said... If you’d seen the city, you’d know.”

“Then... Can I?”

“No.” He paused, realizing how harsh he had sounded with that serious edge to his voice. “Not now, I mean. Maybe next time Seungcheol takes some of us to scavenge. It’s okay,” he said, sliding a little closer to you. “Chan hasn’t seen it, either, and I think Hansol hasn’t, too... It’s a hard truth to swallow. You should enjoy not knowing while you can.”

“But I want to see it,” you frowned. “I just... I need to see it for myself.”

Ignorance is bliss, Jeonghan wanted to tell you. But he didn’t, because he knew the truth: ignorance was something that could swallow a person whole after a while. It was something that made you turn to someone you love wholeheartedly, and say Let’s leave together. Those words still rung in his head even now, the weight of them and a decision that wasn’t seen through resting on his shoulders. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he and Joshua had just... left. Would they have come back? Would Seungcheol even accept them back if they did? Or would the betrayal have been too much for even him, so determined to keep this group of people banded together that he took on his position in a direct attempt to make things easier for the rest?

Even weirder, those words haunted his dreams in this strange sense that he had said something similar to them. Had he? Jeonghan was sure that he said those exact words to Joshua, too. Maybe that was why they were so close now, soulmates of a different variety but soulmates nonetheless. They must have met in a past life and come together again, as if drawn to one another.

If Joshua was a soulmate to him, then Jeonghan felt as though he had more than one. Call it him being sentimental for the twelve--now thirteen, with you--people that he lived with, but sometimes he felt as though life brought them all together for a reason. There had to be a reason why they all seemed to fit together in this puzzle, as though they were always meant to be with each other. Jeonghan wondered where you fit in. He still felt complete with you there, yet it felt... different. Seeing you for the first time was a far different feeling than when he found Chan. There was no subtle sense of recognition that he felt in his soul, just.. peace. He felt at peace when you came. How peculiar.

“Mouse?” Jeonghan said quietly, waiting until you turned to him again. “Please... don’t leave us.”

It was vulnerable in a way you didn’t expect, based on the way that you looked at him--all wide-eyed and brows raising at his words. Yet you reached over, resting your hand over his, curling your fingers around it. That, too, made him feel at peace.

“I won’t.”

Jeonghan found himself drifting. Not in the sense that he used to, back before even Jun had joined the group. He was drifting closer to you, as if there were this invisible pull that always brought him to you even when he was wandering aimlessly. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were tied together with a little red string that neither of you could see, always bringing you to one another. At first, Jeonghan thought it was his own worries that made him find you and try to pull you into the group. Now, he was sure it was becoming something else: something he wasn’t quite ready to face. Something he was less willing to name, too...

So he turned his attention to the fact that this was well into your third week of living with them. Next week meant hard work to get everything ready to celebrate you coming into their lives. Which, in Jeonghan’s eyes, meant that now was the time to take things a little easier. The weather was hot outside, and that meant it was the perfect time to not push themselves, but enjoy life a little more. He woke up early just to greet Seungcheol, wordlessly setting a cup of tea before him with one of those little cherry desserts Seokmin had made the day before.

“What?” Seungcheol looked up, already knowing that Jeonghan wanted something. This was the way most people tried to butter Seungcheol up, after all... because Jeonghan had started it.

He merely smiled, resting his head in one hand. “You’ve been stressed lately.”

“Just ask already.”

Where was the fun in that? Jeonghan chuckled, “I was thinking that we could take today and go to the lake together. As a family.”

It earned a tiny snort from Seungcheol: while they were a family, Seungcheol knew as anyone else did that throwing it around now was just meant to sway him further. “Jeonghan...”

“Just one day,” he pushed. “All of us deserve a day off. We can always afford it, you know.”

Seungcheol wiped away crumbs from the corner of his mouth, chewing slowly as he thought it over. Then he met Jeonghan’s eyes again. “You’re still worried about Mouse.”

Well, shit, that was... too spot-on.

“You shouldn’t be,” he said, looking back to the little dessert in his hand. “You’ve already done a lot for them.” Then he paused, gaze lifting to meet Jeonghan’s, “Unless... they said something to you?”

“A few weeks ago they said--”

“I meant recently.”

Jeonghan frowned. Couldn’t he just dote on you without it being this big thing? He always doted on people. Why would you be any different? “I just want to make sure they feel included here. They were right: people tend to pair off neatly. Chan always keeps them involved, but what about the rest of us?”

“We’ve been getting better about it,” Seungcheol said. “Are you worried about them not staying? They already made their decision.”

“I know, but...” He sighed. “I did the same, and Joshua and I almost--”

“They’re different,” Seungcheol interrupted. “Jeonghan. You can be honest with me.” He set aside the remaining piece of the dessert, fully turning to face his friend. “I’ve seen the way you look at them sometimes,” he lowered his voice, “as more than a friend.”

Jeonghan swore his mouth went dry within seconds. Shit. “I don’t feel that way about them,” he lied. “I just want them to be happy here--”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Seungcheol stood up, picking up the empty cup and plate. “You should be honest with yourself.”

“I am,” Jeonghan followed after him. “I love them like I love everyone else.” That was his job, in a way. Seungcheol was the leader of this group, Jeonghan was the heart. Joshua was a balance of them both. The three of them worked together to help lead--the same way Soonyoung and Jihoon could step up without hesitation when they needed to. Jeonghan always saw his job as being the one who openly loved and embraced people now, just to help things feel more like home.

Seungcheol looked up. “You pushed them toward Minghao when he brought everyone willing into a meditation session. And you did it again with Soonyoung, when he invited them to dance during our music night. You practically shoved them toward him,” he crossed his arms. “If you’re falling in love with them, then accept it, because I think they’re starting to fall for you, too.”

“They aren’t.”

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head as he walked past. “If you’re going to reject them because you don’t feel the same, then do that. But don’t lie to yourself and pretend you don’t feel anything for them.” He paused for a moment, looking back, “start getting our bags ready. I’ll come help once I tell the others where we’re going.”

Jeonghan lit up with joy, planting a tiny kiss against his friend’s cheek before taking off--laughing at when Seungcheol groaned and told him to knock it off with the affection right after when he got his way (a teasing statement, surely: Jeonghan wasn’t afraid of skinship with Seungcheol in the slightest). Seungcheol eventually joined him alongside the others, filling bags with spare clothes and everything they would need to go off for a day and enjoy the lake. He smiled to himself when he saw you with Chan, packing your own bag as he excitedly talked about the last time they took a trip out to the lake. He’d been dunked under the water that time... a few times too many... but it was still a nice trip he’d enjoyed. He’d already warned you that some people would get competitive, since he already saw that Soonyoung was packing a ball to toss around.

If you’re falling in love with them, accept it. Jeonghan stopped what he was doing, repeating the words again and again. Was he falling in love with you? It was one thing to think that you would ever fall for him when he merely showered you in affection to make you feel more at home... But what about him? He liked you. He knew that he did. But love? Could he even love a person after knowing them for a few weeks? Maybe that was the part that made him hesitate so much. He felt a sense of love for you, but that was entirely different from capital-L Love. There was something different in what he felt for you, sure, but...

The thought hung with him far longer than he meant for it to. Jeonghan wasn’t jealous. Except... he felt something when Soonyoung threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in tight on the walk to the lake. He felt that same annoyed something when Joshua looked him in the eyes and pressed a lingering kiss into your hair, smiling at him knowingly. He felt it again and again when Mingyu was too affectionate, when Chan held your hand...

Oh. Fuck. Jeonghan shut his eyes, head falling back lightly against the tree he’d been sitting against. “You might be right.”

Seungcheol hummed, looking up. “About?”

“You know what.”

And then he let out a soft chuckle. “I know.”

The day of your celebration arrived quicker than he expected, and Jeonghan felt... antsier than he usually did on these days. There was always this shared sense of anticipation when these days came, this nervous energy filling the room as they prepared to celebrate either the decision to stay, or the decision to keep staying. When he hit his two year mark, postponing the celebration the same as Seungcheol did so that they could celebrate it with Joshua... he remembered staring at himself with this realization that this was it for him. That the day he and Joshua looked at each other and decided to leave was long since gone. Sometimes he felt this tiny desire to go out and look for real, to know for sure that they were the only ones left in the world, but he’d learned to live with it. Maybe one day, if things changed, they’d all leave together. The idea of leaving (whether that be alone or with Joshua or with you, if you would have him...) lost its appeal over time. This, Jeonghan had decided, was home. The people here were home.

You, too, were home. Jeonghan had become certain of that over the past few weeks. Seungcheol had said as much in his usual speech, too.

The celebration slipped through the night like sand through Jeonghan’s fingers, gone all too soon. He’d committed the lines of your face into his memory, the way you smiled, the sound of your laughter... Every evidence of joy, Jeonghan wanted to remember. Even though he, like everyone else, didn’t remember what came before all of this... He could still make new memories. He could memorize the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the last rays of sunlight kissed your skin as it peeked through the curtains. The way his lips lingered on your cheek as he planted a kiss onto you, the same as everyone else did, for what felt like a few seconds too long. He’d commit the warm way his chest felt like it was glowing to memory, too: that was because of you. That much he was certain of. Who else had come along and made him feel like he was filled with sunlight so easily?

With almost everyone in bed, Jeonghan found himself enjoying the quiet that often followed big nights like these. He’d made himself a cup of tea, already making mental notes of who he would have to check on come morning. Chan had drank a lot alongside you tonight, so that already marked down two, and he was pretty sure Seokmin and Soonyoung did, too (Soonyoung was the one who kept leaning forward to kiss your cheek, even happier to do so once he was met with your happy giggles)... He was sure that he’d end up on clean-up duty with Seungcheol and Jihoon to get a head start on sweeping up petals and scrubbing at dried paint, while the others slept in a bit more before getting some sort of breakfast together.

“Hannie?”

He looked up from where he’d been standing in the kitchen, right in front of the sink so he could wash his mug and go straight to bed, to see you lingering in the doorway. You looked exhausted, and he felt his heart soften at the sight of you.

“You’re still up,” you rubbed at your eyes, mindful of the streaks of paint on your skin--a result of the others breaking out the paints alongside markers. Slowly, you made your way over to him, stopping just a few steps away. “Are you okay?”

The slight slur to your voice only made him worry a little. Had you gotten back up because he wasn’t in bed yet...? “I’m okay,” he said. “I thought you were going to cuddle with Seokmin--”

“Why do you do that?” You cut him off there, brows drawing together. “Why... Why do you keep pushing me away and toward Channie and the others?”

That was... one way to put it, maybe. “I’m not pushing you away--”

“You are!” You frowned, and then repeated a quieter “You are... I don’t understand what I did to make you not like me.”

“I do like you.” He set aside his mug, taking the few small steps he needed to be in front of you. Jeonghan gently took your face into his hands, your eyes snapping up to meet his, “Mouse... I care about everyone here. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t.”

“So why,” you curled your fingers around his hands to pull them from your face, yet you didn’t let go, “don’t you want me around? I wanna... I wanna be around you, Hannie. Just you sometimes.” You squeezed his hands. “I... I think I love you...”

“You don’t love me like that,” he said quietly, “it’s okay, Mouse--”

In a rash moment of needing to prove him wrong, you leaned in, kissing him without a second thought. Jeonghan didn’t think at first, either, as he kissed you back as his soul had been so deeply craving to do so, eyes fluttering shut. Yet reason kicked in quickly, and he realized you weren’t sober right now. He pushed you back by the shoulders, hands lingering there as he searched for the right words to say. He saw the way your confidence seemed to dwindle down and extinguish out, leaving a smoky version of the you he loved in its place.

“We can’t,” was what he said. Not like this refused to go past his tongue, uncertainty squeezing in his chest. Did you even want to actually kiss him? Or were you just drunk and affectionate in the way Soonyoung was? Why couldn’t he just... believe that you loved him as much as he wanted to?

Your eyes began to water, and your name died on his lips as you pulled away, already babbling off an apology for bothering him. Although you tried to get away, Jeonghan stopped you.

“It’s okay,” he tried to say, hand loosely curled around your wrist, “you don’t need to apologize--”

All at once, the dam broke, and you began to cry more. Your words were muffled as you buried your face in your hands, but Jeonghan could make out the apologies you kept spilling, saying something about how you loved everyone there but you had started loving him more. That kissing him was bad and you hoped he didn’t hate you...

“Jeonghan?” Seungcheol called out as he came in, fully awake in a way that made Jeonghan’s heart lurch. Shit, was he listening? Did he see what happened? His gaze flitted over to check on you, and then he met Jeonghan’s eyes again, “Are they okay? What happened?”

Jeonghan wasn’t sure what to say. “They’re just overwhelmed,” he lied, trying to spare you any embarrassment. “I think they drank too much.”

It was clear on Seungcheol’s face that he didn’t believe any of it. “I’ll get them to bed,” he said, “and then we can talk. Alright?”

Jeonghan sighed, nodding as he leaned back against the counter. He watched as Seungcheol gently wrapped an arm around you, speaking in a low voice about how Seokmin was still waiting for you--and that he could help cheer you up. He played into the lie, though, saying not to worry about chores come morning, that you could sleep in with the others who drank a little too much, too. The room fell silent soon enough, and Jeonghan shut his eyes. When did all of this become so complicated? He felt like other people would be upset or mad that you had impulsively kissed him like that, yet... Jeonghan couldn’t be angry with you. Not when he grew weak and kissed you back because loving you and being loved in return was the one thing he wanted more than anything else.

The quiet footsteps signaled Seungcheol’s return, and Jeonghan lifted his head to watch his friend as he grew closer with each step.

“Joshua and Seokmin are taking care of them,” he said, slowing to a stop a few steps away. “I told them the lie you told me.”

Jeonghan let out a sigh. “I can’t get anything past you.”

“You can,” a tiny smile tugged at the corners of Seungcheol’s mouth, “just not this.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, “So? You can talk to me.”

Normally, Jeonghan might try to weasel his way out of these conversations. Seungcheol dealt with enough as it was, and he wasn’t fond of adding onto that weight. But he merely looked up. “They kissed me. And I pushed them away because they’re drunk.” After kissing them back, a voice piped up in the back of his head, you greedy--

“But that’s not all,” Seungcheol spoke up, drowning out that little voice before it could go any further. “Jeonghan, I... I didn’t hear everything they said. If something’s wrong, I need to know.”

“They said that I keep pushing them away,” Jeonghan hugged himself. “And that they think I don’t like them.”

“But you do.” Seungcheol let out a quiet sigh. “Jeonghan--”

“They’re not wrong,” he said. “I have been pushing them toward other people because I do like them. If I stop spending so much time with them, these feelings will go away.”

“Do you want them to?”

Jeonghan decided enough was enough. He turned, fully facing Seungcheol. “Tell me you’ll be okay.”

“What?”

“I know how you feel about them,” Jeonghan said. “The reason I’ve been trying to push them away is because I feel like I’ll betray you if I actually let something happen between us. You love them, Cheol. So do I. So does Chan, and I think Joshua and Hansol do, a little, too.” He curled his fingers into his arm, digging them in to ground himself. “The others I know will be okay, because we’ve talked. But will you actually be okay, or are you going to just say it because you always put the rest of us first?”

Seungcheol said nothing as he watched Jeonghan, brows drawing together as his words sank in. “Jeonghan--”

“If you say no, I’ll wait until we’re all ready to take this step.” Jeonghan took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “This isn’t just something that affects them and I. It affects all of us. Things are going to change,” he drifted a step back, bumping into the counter as he leaned against it once more. “So I want to know everyone’s ready to deal with that.”

Seungcheol slowly nodded after a moment. “Jeonghan...” His eyes met Jeonghan’s a moment later. ��I wouldn’t stop you--”

“That isn’t what I want to know.” Because I know that, Jeonghan watched him for a moment. I know you’d never stop any of us.

Another slow nod. “I promise,” he said in a low voice, just to keep it between the two of them, “I’ll be okay.” His voice returned to its normal volume a second later, “We’re all adults here. I want them to be happy. If they’re with you, then I know they will be.”

Jeonghan chuckled warmly at the thought. “Just with me?”

“You know that I mean,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “Really... Sometimes I feel like we’re immature about these things.”

Jeonghan shook his head. “I just needed to hear you say it.” If he heard Seungcheol say it, then he could fully let himself believe it. He could then finally let go and let himself fall fully, embracing the sweetness of a love reciprocated with everything he had.

“So...” Seungcheol grew closer, his shoulder almost bumping into Jeonghan’s now. “You fell for them.”

He nodded. “At first I just liked stealing them away to have a napping buddy during chores, but... I don’t know. They’re sweet,” he shrugged, “and at some point, I realized I was falling for them.”

“Is that why you pushed them away?” Seungcheol watched him. “Or were you trying to matchmake them with Chan?”

Another warm laugh bubbled up from Jeonghan. “Both. Before Minghao organized the meditation session, I actually pushed them toward Chan. But it’s a little obvious they only see him as a friend.”

Seungcheol nodded along. “And you said you talked to him?”

“He got mad and said he’s an adult who can handle this kind of thing,” Jeonghan said. “And maybe that if I didn’t treat them right, then he was going to try and steal them.”

“That’s true of all of us,” his shoulder bumped against Jeonghan’s, the two chuckling at the thought. “Do you think... in another life... we’d even be having this discussion?”

Jeonghan lifted his gaze to meet Seungcheol’s, brows furrowing as he mulled over his words for a moment. “What?”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not. Talk to me.”

Seungcheol pushed off. “Maybe another time,” he said, walking off, only to stop and look back to Jeonghan. “Take care of them,” he said, “I know you will, but... I just need to hear you say it.”

Jeonghan smiled a little. “I will,” he promised.

Whether you were avoiding Jeonghan or if Jeonghan was avoiding you, you weren’t sure anymore. For the past few days, you’d been trying to avoid him. The morning after your celebration, you woke up with a killer headache and the sickening memory of the fact you’d kissed Jeonghan. When you tried to apologize to him, he merely ruffled your hair and said that it was fine before making sure you were feeling alright. The laid back nature of that talk was enough to make you decide to keep to yourself, your worries that he was hiding how he felt were running rampant. When you tried to ask Seungcheol about it, he merely told you to give Jeonghan a little space--only confirming the idea that you fucked up, to be honest--and talk to him about how you felt when you felt the time was right.

“I just don’t want to ruin things between us,” you told Chan one day, long after chores were done, while you were resting on your stomach as you watched him search through the games that were downstairs. Seungkwan and Hansol would join the two of you soon enough, but you’d rather keep this conversation between you and Chan. You already knew what they’d say: Hansol would tell you that you should talk to Jeonghan about how you felt, and Seungkwan would call you silly for worrying so much.

“You won’t.”

“But how do you know that?” You sat up, pouting at him. Yet when Chan didn’t meet your eyes, realization struck. “Wait. He said something?”

He turned, wide-eyed that you’d guessed. “No--”

“Channie,” you got up, making your way over to sit next to him. “Is he mad at me? Just tell me if he’s mad at me. I’ll apologize again if he is--”

“He’s not mad at you.”

Despite the relief that statement brought you, you still felt as though something was off. You watched as Chan looked through the games again, although it felt like he wasn’t quiet looking now that you were seeing him closer. Like he was just distracting himself. “... Channie?”

“I...” He paused, and then turned to you. “I like you.” He said quietly. “And I know you don’t like me the same way. But I do, and I still want to be your friend,” he paused for a second, gauging your reaction, “so if that changes your mind about hanging out today, then that’s okay.” He paused, “I just... I wanted to tell you for once.”

Your gaze softened. “Oh. Chan...” You reached for his hands, taking a deep breath as you let everything sink in. “Thank you for telling me. I... I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way, but I do love having you as my best friend.”

That made his eyes light up. “Your... best friend?”

“Yeah!” You beamed, squeezing his hands. “You’re my best friend here, Channie. You’ve been here for me since the beginning. I really do appreciate you being honest with me, and... and if you need time to deal with this, then that’s okay. You can just tell me when. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re my best friend and that I still love you.”

His eyes were twinkling, and he turned away for a moment, “Really... I didn’t think you’d be so...” He trailed off, “but I still love you, too. I’m glad you’re my best friend, too.”

The two of you grew closer as Chan wrapped you in his arms, squeezing tight. You smiled, hugging him back happily. If he needed the time to get over his crush on you, you could give him that as long as it still meant he’d be your friend in the end.

“Am... I interrupting something?” Joshua called out from the entrance to the room. “I can go if I am--”

“No!” Chan called out, pulling away from you. “No, we’re just--We talked. It’s nothing serious, just--” His cheeks were growing redder. “Do you need something?”

“Hansol said you guys were going to play games,” he made his way over. “Have you picked one yet?”

Chan shook his head. “We got distracted talking...”

“Great!” Joshua sat down. “There’s actually this card game I wanted to show you.” He turned to you, “Mouse, can you go get the deck from upstairs? Seungkwan likes it more.”

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

Joshua gestured vaguely in the shape of a stacked deck of cards, “There’s this cute deck of cards that’s upstairs. We brought it back from our last trip into the city. They’ve got flowers on one side and the stripes on the other with the suit and numbers and stuff. I wanna use that deck,” he said. “Please?”

Chan looked between the two of you. “Um... I can go get it--”

“Mouse needs to know what it looks like,” Joshua pushed a little more, “in case we ever lose it. Just so they know what we’d be looking for.”

“You aren’t making any sense--”

You stood up anyway. “It’s with the other games, right?”

Joshua lit up immediately. “Yes! You can’t miss it. It’ll stand out, trust me.”

Although you swore you heard the sound of Joshua smacking Chan’s arm as you walked away, you continued on your little quest without much thought. The trek from the room you’d been in up to the church wasn’t too bad, although you’d always hate scaling the ladder into the attic. Was it really so vital that you get this one deck of cards? There were a few downstairs, and you thought that deck was down there anyway because Seokmin had used it for a game with a few of the others--you included. But maybe there was a second one you weren’t aware of.

The moment you could see into the attic, you realized what Joshua had been doing. “Jeonghan?”

He made his way to you quickly, helping you into the attic. “Hi.”

“I was supposed to--”

“That was a lie,” Jeonghan said quickly. “Joshua said he’d find a way to get you up here.” He took a few steps back, not bothering to try and hide the dinner that was sitting on a blanket he’d spread out on the floor. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, although you looked down at everything he’d spread out. “How did you--”

“Shua.” Jeonghan slowly sat down, patting the empty spot near him. “He helped with all of this, actually. I asked him to.”

After a moment of hesitation, you sat down and faced him. One way or another, the two of you hadn’t spoken all that much in the past few days... and now Jeonghan had prepared dinner for the two of you, likely to have alone. You might not have seen through Joshua’s not-so-subtle ruse to get you up here until now that you were thinking about it more, but you were definitely able to put two and two together now that the only person you needed to focus on was Jeonghan.

“So you...?”

“I love you.” He said it out loud, unafraid to finally let himself say it. How long had he fought against it? How many times had he pushed it away while trying to think of your own happiness by pushing you toward everyone else...? “And I denied it because I thought you’d be happier with someone else. I’m not sorry that I pushed you away that night, but I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t blame him for pushing you away: you were drunk. Even though you wanted to kiss him now... You didn’t like the idea that your first kiss with him was like that. “Jeonghan... I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“You were drunk,” he said, “you weren’t thinking. And... I kissed you back at first, too.”

“That’s still not an excuse,” you quickly said. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have done it--”

Jeonghan nodded. “Right. So let’s let it be in the past now,” he said. “And... Talk about us and what comes next.”

What comes next... The idea made your face grow warmer, heart beating a little quicker than before. Jeonghan wanted something to come next, and so did you... That meant a lot to hear out loud, to be honest. “So.. You love me?”

He nodded. “I... I think I do. At first, I thought I just wanted to help you feel more included here. I wanted you to be happy. And... I don’t know--I think I realized it at some point and decided that your happiness came first in more ways than usual.”

“Do you normally put everyone else first?” You frowned a little. You understood it would happen sometimes but...

He sheepishly nodded. “I’m used to it. Seungcheol and Joshua do it, too. We watch over everyone together. That’s... That’s our role, I think.”

“So....” You toyed with a loose string on your sleeve, not quite meeting his gaze now. “You were pushing me toward other people?”

Another nod, although he seemed a little more factual this time around. Like it was something he just needed to admit and move past. “I was. I decided I would do anything to make you happy, even if it meant watching you love someone else.”

“Was I not obvious enough?” You asked quietly. “I mean... I always ran off with you whenever you asked. I spent a lot of time with you--I went to everything that you arranged because you were involved.”

“Not for the others?” He raised a brow.

“For them, too,” you said. “I just... I knew you were doing it for me. So I’d go and be a part of things so that your effort wasn’t wasted. I liked being a part of the group, but I liked seeing you happy.”

“Well...” Jeonghan shifted so that he’d be sitting a little closer to you. “Then that’s something we have in common,” he smiled. “I like seeing you happy, too.”

You had a feeling you knew what was coming next. So you moved a little closer. “Hannie?” You felt your face grow warmer. “Can... Can we have a do-over on that whole ‘first kiss’ thing?”

He chuckled warmly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “So you want to kiss me again?”

“You’re such a dork,” you sighed blissfully, “yes, I want to kiss your stupidly handsome face again. For real this time.”

He chuckled. “As you wish.”

Jeonghan leaned in, letting you close that distance between the two of you as your lips captured his in a gentle kiss. The first time you kissed him, it had been impulsive, and something he’d leaned into out of a need to be closer to you. Yet this time that need was far softer, far gentler than it had been before. It was as though letting himself love you wholeheartedly made him feel safer in taking things slower, in kissing you far gentler the way he thought all first kisses with someone so beloved to him should be (not that there was anyone else on the same level as you). He cupped your face, eyes fluttering shut as he felt you smile into this kiss.

When he drew back, he saw the way your confidence seemed to burn brighter in you. You pulled him back in for another quick kiss, as if it was your way of having the last word. He’d let you have it this time (but next time? He’d fight a little more, just to leave you breathless and to tease you further). This time, he just wanted to admire you, hand still cupping your face as he ran his thumb along your cheek.

“Things are going to change between all of us,” he said gently. “Are you ready for that?”

You thought, for a moment, that hearing it would have brought this sense of dread. The two of you would have to face everyone at some point and announce that your relationship had changed, and that did mean the dynamics among the group would shift a little, too. Yet with Jeonghan saying it to you... You felt ready. If you faced everyone with him by your side, hand-in-hand, you would be fine.

“I am,” you said after a moment. “Are you?”

And he smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “As long as I have you, I will be.” He knew deep down that he could face anything as long as he had everyone together, especially if he had you right beside him. His lips ghosted over yours for a moment. He drew back, quietly saying your name. “Let’s stay together.”

After a moment, you nodded, taking his hands in your own. “Let’s stay,” you said, taking his hands in your own. He weaved his fingers with your own, holding on tight. “Together.”

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under the sun taglist: @shiningstar-byulxx @twogyuu @strawberri-uyu @bbmyungho @thedeeppoet @heeseung-lover686 @bfwonu @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient @dreamhannies @yourfavoritefreakyhan @amethyistheart @jeonnyread @nap-of-a-starr @anidolcalledaoife @vernxnsfool

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #wooahaes.uts #ill be honest i did very minimal proofreading bc its 8 am and i was determined to put this out Right Now #and i MIGHT. probably wont but MIGHT. come back and add something if i feel like i need to #i just need to finish rewriting cheol's part and UtS (main version) will be done

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