vernon | you make my day | meet version
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@hansolmi
vernon | you make my day | meet version
Truth in Strange Places
mixdoyoungâ:
Doyoungâs mum always did make it a point to serve the best to her house guests, and according to her, she puts in even more effort if it were his friends. Because apparently, his friends needed to be âbribedâ to stay his friends. That, and she wanted to show that not everyone in the family were uncivilised barbarians â her words, not his. To which he says, âAs if I canât do my own bribing mother.âÂ
Itâs your typical family banter in good humour. And Doyoung knows that sheâs like that with all her house guests.Â
But sometimes he canât help but feel like its more than that when Hansol is involved. Even by her standards, she goes over and above for him. âHansol might not be used to our usual spreads,â she says; And Doyoung agrees. It is simply fact that Hansol has expensive taste thanks to his upbringing. He also agrees with her attempting to accommodate his friend, because he wants that too. But that doesnât mean that he isnât occasionally hit by wishful thoughts tinged with hints of envy. It would be nice if she could be just as generous towards him once in a while.Â
âIs that Hanwoo?!â He gapes, fingers moving to swipe a bite only to be slapped away by the hawk-eyed woman.Â
âYes, and donât go picking at the dishes with your unwashed hands!â
Doyoung mutters an unconvincing âmmhhâ as he sidesteps his mother, making his way to the kitchen sink. Only to swivel around abruptly, one hand diving for the beef dish anyways. Mum is fast, but Doyoung is faster, and she responds a hair too late. Her slap misses his hand by a mere split second and by then the strip of meat is already happily being tenderised in his mouth.Â
Him being faster doesnât mean he manages to escape her wrath though.Â
âYah! You brat!â
He doesnât manage to retreat to the kitchen fast enough to avoid the low kick to his thighs.Â
âAh! Muummmâ how can you use a technique on your child like that!â he whines, a hand going to massage his left thigh as he limps over to the sink.Â
âWho told you to steal,â he snips back pointedly as she turns to Hansol, âSorry about the commotion Hansol sweetheart, why donât you go wash your hands too and we can settle down for dinner. You boys must be starving!â
At the insinuation that the spread of food laid out before him is anything less than perfect, Hansol is quick to raise both of his hands and shake his head in denial. âNo, really. This is perfect Mrs. Kim,â heâs assures, relaying every bit of sincerity he can with his words as he trails behind the pair. âI havenât had a home cooked meal in...â he tilts his head in exaggerated thought before finishing a tad sheepishly, âwell, since the last time you had me over.âÂ
Heâs certain that Mrs. Kim missed that last bit with how she and Doyoung are playfully swatting at each other in the kitchen, but he doesnât mind. He enjoys being a part of these moments, enjoys the Kim familyâs banter and the warmth in their eyes as they rough house.Â
Dinners at his house had been a much different sort of affair. There had been place settings and polished silver and pressed linens and maids to handle all of the cooking. On the rare occasion that the family actually sat together for a meal, his mother insisted they wear nothing less than their Sunday best. Even something as simple as a meal had been more of a performance where his parents were concerned.Â
After washing up, Hansol drifts back towards the dinner table, hovering as he waits for Mrs. Kim so that he can help her into her chair before taking his own beside Doyoung.Â
He jabs his elbow into Doyoungâs ribs lightly in silent reprimand for giving his mother a hard time, if only for showâs sake. âI canât take you anywhere,â he laments with a sigh.Â
.bad company
( â )
The insult rolls right over Hansol. He learned early on that Wonwoo was a bit of a grump and so he rarely takes his jabs to heart. âAlmost everything?â he echoes instead with a curious tilt to his head. He doesnât know as much about his friend as he might like, but Wonwoo has never struck him as the type to take well to too much pressing for details. Anything that Hansol knows about him is what Wonwoo himself has volunteered. The bit about his mother was certainly new though, and Hansol didnât want to press his luck.
When Wonwoo steered the conversation back to Hansolâs own family, the younger man didnât bat an eye. Instead, his lips pulled into an easy grin as he nodded his agreement. âMy dad was a jerk,â he agreed readily, reaching out to fiddle with the cardboard sleeve on his coffee cup once more. âMy mother would have been infinitely better off if sheâd gotten the help she needed from the start.â His smile fades a little, tone sobering. âWe all would be.â
He shakes the moment off in the blink of an eye, but his smile is slow to return. âThose sites are dangerous, dude.â He punches out a dramatic breath and shakes his head in bewilderment. âTheyâre great in theory, but they just freak people out in the end.â
@mixdoyoungâ -- sleepover wadrobe;Â truth in strange places
.bad company
( â )
Hansol brushes off the death threat just the same as he always does, with a fond little roll of his eyes and a soft laugh. He dutifully takes another drink of his still too-hot coffee before wincing at Wonwooâs admission. âIâm sorry about your mother,â he says, genuine. He pretends to have missed the bit about Wonwoo wishing the alcohol had finished his mother off, though. Some topics are better left untouched-- and he doesnât believe for a moment that his friend meant those words anyways.
âMy mother is schizophrenic,â he offers instead, blunt and honest and without a shred of shame. âI was thirteen when she first began exhibiting symptoms. My dad pretended everything was fine butâŚâ he shrugged, picking at the coffee sleeve on his drink. âI could tell that something was going on. He wouldnât let me call a doctor, so I had to do my own research.â
His eyes lift back to Wonwooâs and he flashes him a smile, small and crooked. âI definitely donât recommend hitting up WebMD, though. That site could convince someone that their sore throat is really a stage four lymphoma.â He shifts in his seat, never able to stay still for more than a moment at a time. The caffeine certainly doesnât help that particular quirk. âI once went on there to figure out the difference between  tension headaches and  cluster headaches and by the time I logged off, I was convinced I had three weeks left to live.â
180429 - Lean On Me -Japanese ver.-
The Tigers Come at Night
( â )
At first, Hansol didnât realize that Woobin had actually followed him into the sitting room, to distracted with his struggle to work the remote for the television to notice the otherâs presence until the gangster took a seat on the floor beside him. âSurely someoneâs figured out whatâs going on by now,â he frowned, eyes flicking from the flat screen before them to look at the other man in consideration.
It wasnât like he watched the news all that often-- or tv at all for that matter. As much was obvious by the fact that Hansol barely knew how to work his own remote control. Still, there was no way that those police sirens hadnât woken up half the city at this hour.
He settled back into the couch once he found a news channel-- one that wasnât KBS. As an afterthought, he pulled his legs up onto the couch with him, folding them to put just a little bit more space between Woobin and himself. Though the night had already proven all sorts of surreal, he couldnât help but be wary in the other manâs presence.
As if he needed further proof of that, Woobinâs words provided just that.
âWhat does that even mean?â he countered, frowning incredulously as he lifted his coffee mug back to his lips to take another careful sip, eyeing the gangster over the rim of his cup.
âPerfect victimâ. The phrase rattled him more than he intended to let on, but his expressive face gave away his thoughts all the same.
He lowered his coffee cup back to his lap, hands carefully cradling it as he let the mug rest lightly on his ankle. âYou know what? Donât answer that. I want to hear this report.â
Truth in Strange Places
( ... )
âIâoh, is hyung back too?â
His tone momentarily dips down, but he quickly brings it up back to its lighthearted lilt as he plays off the unease in his gut with a smile on his face.
âYes. But he left awhile ago. Your brotherâs staying the night over with some of his high school friends. He reckoned he ought to since you were coming over. Didnât want to cause trouble.â Doyoung can tell sheâs testing the waters, insidiously trying to probe for more.
âFor a sleepover with Hansol and all, you know. I guess he didnât want to bother you,â she adds quickly as her gaze flickers over his shoulder to where Hansol was.
He doesnât like the way sheâs looking at him.
âHmm, how nice of hyung. Anywayyyss, weâre starving!â He announces loudly in an forceful attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere. Hooking an arm around Hansolâs he pulls him towards the kitchen with him. âWhen will dinner start?â
The mere mention of marriage is enough to have Hansolâs eyes widening in horror, and by the time that Doyoung is finished filling him in on the would-be sinister plan, Hansolâs eyes are reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights. Thereâs something off in Doyoungâs tone though, something a little sad, and so Hansol quickly shakes off his surprise in favor of bumping his shoulder against his friendâs, shooting the other man a bright grin to keep the mood light.
âYouâre not even funny, you know that?â he teased, dismissing the idea altogether as he followed Doyoung inside.
No sooner than Hansol has toed out of his shoes than heâs being pulled into Mrs. Kimâs embrace. He returns the hug willingly, feeling the familiar bloom of warmth in his chest as heâs squeezed until he can hardly breathe anymore. He doesnât mind a bit.
âYou look lovely, Mrs. Kim,â he returns politely once heâs been released, the compliment genuine and his smile easily reaching his eyes. He misses Doyoungâs discomfort, too caught up in the whirlwind of greetings as he turns to greet Mr. Kim as well, holding out a hand for the older man to shake and laughing in delight as itâs only used to haul him into a quick hug.
As the family begins to chat and Doyoung digs out his gift to his mother, Hansol quietly stands to the side, allowing them to catch up as he simply listens to the quickfire banter. Itâs always mystified him to watch the Kims interact-- their house is warm, full of life in a way that the manor had never been.
The tension between them doesnât go unnoticed, but Hansol has never been one to press.
When Doyoung slings an arm around his shoulders to haul him towards the dining room, he goes easily, and his smile widens when he spots the spread already laid out on the table before them. âAigoo, this looks amazing Mrs. Kim! Thereâs even kimchi jiggae!âÂ
The Tigers Come at Night
( â )
Hansol swatted away the hand that ruffled his hair, but the motion was too weak to be convincing. âI think Iâll take my chances,â he replied, sinking into a stool at the breakfast bar across from the other man. He folded his arms on the counter and slumped forward to prop his cheek up with his palm, his posture truly relaxing for the first time in Woobinâs presence.
It was hard to find anything threatening about the sight of the older man puttering about Hansolâs kitchen in his ankle socks.
At the mention of insomnia, Hansol let out a small huff of laughter. âBelieve me, the coffee has nothing to do with that one,â he said, reaching out both hands to accept the warm mug that Woobin passed him. He inclined his head ever so slightly in thanks before lifting the mug to his lips to take a careful sip. Given his current state, the coffee could taste like battery acid and he would hardly notice, but he still paused between sips to compliment, âItâs nice. Thank you.â
The drink was warming his cold fingers and for now, that was enough.
He startled when he remembered the ruckus that had brought Woobin to his house in the first place.
âWe should turn on the news,â he declared suddenly, setting his coffee aside and slipping out of his seat to scurry to the sitting room. âThere might be something on about those cop cars we saw.â
The Tigers Come at Night
hansolmi:
(â)
Despite the cold shoulder Woobin was receiving from Hansol, he found that the silent walk to the Choi Manor was far more pleasant than he wouldâve imagined. Of course, that had everything to do with the proud little thing walking before him.
Woobin found that he couldnât keep his eyes off of Hansol, not when the younger man startled at the slightest noise yet vehemently refused to look back to him for reassurance. Â Hansol was simply too proud and stubborn to admit to any weakness especially when the tell tale scuff of Woobinâs sneakers against the pavement was enough to let him know that he was indeed following him.
So Woobin was ready to catch Hansol as he stumbled upon reaching the manor, eagerly playing the role of a silent protector to his begrudging little prince.
âI have all sorts of important duties as Henchman #8,â he responded breezily, flashing Hansol an easy smile that wouldâve never made an appearance if he was standing there as Danteâs lieutenant.
âBut lucky for you, you caught me on my night off, so Iâm all yours for right now,â he explained, cheerfully punching in the code to the gate as if he were the one that lived there.
âAnd right now i think a cup of coffee is in order after the night weâve had,â he added, inviting himself right in as he quickly ushered Hansol inside before the heirling could make a peep.
Hansol couldnât muster the energy to be surprised that the gangster knew the access code to his security system. Heâd found Woobin lurking in the shadows inside the manor far too many times for such a discovery to come as any sort of surprise. Instead, he only heaved a little sigh before stepping through the gate that the other man was oh so kindly holding open for him.
Despite feeling wired from the moment that he woke from the nightmare earlier, the moment that Hansol found himself setting foot back on the manorâs grounds with the heavy iron doors clanging shut behind him, every ounce of exhaustion heâd been ignoring settled heavily back on his shoulders. Perhaps it was because he was too tired to be properly disgruntled by Woobinâs antics anymore tonight. Maybe he was just growing used to the greasy teasing.
So he merely groaned at the mention of coffee, letting his head fall back and eyes close as his feet dutifully carried him to the front door. âCoffee sounds wonderful,â he admitted, lifting his head once they reached the steps. He didnât even fuss as he was ushered inside his own home.
This was one battle that wasnât worth waging against the older man.
âI have a suspicion I donât need to show you around the kitchen?â Despite his words, Hansol was already drifting towards the kitchen the moment he finished toeing out of his shoes.
have you ever seen anyone more stunning
âThereâs something bothering you that youâre not telling me and I can see it slowly destroying you. What happened?â
not so distant future canon
Sometimes Hansol hates it that Doyoung can read him so easily.
This is one of those times.
He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt higher over his hair in a weak attempt to escape his friendâs prying gaze. Theyâre out to coffee at one of the cafes near campus. After a couple of weeks where their schedules refused to match up, theyâve carved out this time to meet between two of Hansolâs classes. He has an A&P exam looming in less than an hour, but thatâs the last thing on his mind right now.
Absently, he tugs the sleeves of his hoodie further down his wrists, covering the bruises still healing from his latest run-in with one of Danteâs less charming thugs.
He forces a stained laugh. âDude, Iâm just stressing over this anatomy exam Iâm about to bomb,â he assures, clueless that his grin is far too weak to sell his act. He doesnât need to worry Doyoung with this, though. It would invite too many questionsâ questions that Hansol himself isnât sure how to answer yet. âWhich youâre supposed to be helping me cram for. Câmon, Iâve got half an hour to nail the cardiovascular system. Quiz me again?âÂ
âDidnât the doctor say you needed rest? Because I donât call this rest.â
not so distant future canon
Hansolâs eyes lift from the laptop perched carefully on his thighs, guilty expression giving him away just as much as the papers surrounding him on his bed. His sits upright, back propped against the cushioned headboard and supported by a mound of pillows, but even at a glance itâs obvious that those pillows are the only thing keeping him vertical. Heâs still too pale, the circles beneath his eyes too stark in contrast. It leaves him with a striking resemblance to one of Tim Burtonâs characters.
Still, he manages a weary smile as he dutifully sets aside the papers in his hands. âYouâre back early,â he says in lieu of a proper greeting. His tone is bashful all the same, knowing full well that heâs been caught in the act of defying the doctorâs orders. âWas it a slow day at the station?â He launches into a series of rapid-fire questions before Woobin has a chance to properly scold him for sneaking in a bit of work when he was supposed to be resting. âHave you eaten? Are you going back in tonight? Or are you working withâ yâknowâ tonight?â
His eyes widen as he backtracks. âWait. No, no. Donât answer that one.â He shakes his head too firmly and immediately regrets it, stars bursting behind his eyes as a dizzy spell takes hold. Hansol can only clench his eyes shut tight and hold his breath and wait for it to pass.
When he chances opening them again, itâs only after heâs felt the bed beside him dip with the other manâs weight, and only after familiar fingers card through his hair.
His bleary gaze settles on Woobin, taking in the older manâs furrowed brow, the concern clear in his eyes as he scrutinizes Hansol.
Hansolâs lips twist into another weary smile.
This time, he offers the other man a proper greeting.
âI missed you.â
The Tigers Come at Night
hansolmi:
(â)
Hansol was so, so predictable. Â
Even before Woobin had finished speaking, he had already loosened his hold around Hansolâs waist, already expecting the chaebol prince to pull away despite getting exactly what he wanted. Â Not that the younger man had any way of actually knowing that Woobin had given him his real name but semantics.
For now, Woobin was more than ready to keep Hansolâs mind off that particular tidbit.
âEightâs a lucky number in China,â he mused aloud, doing absolutely nothing to hide the smile spreading across his face as he languidly followed behind the chaebol prince. Â
He couldâve easily caught up to the younger man if he wanted to or, better yet, tugged him back to his side since he was still within arms reach but Woobin found that he greatly enjoyed the view from behind. Â There was just something hilariously endearing about the way Hansol squared his shoulders and prissily marched forward that Woobin couldnât find it in himself to deny what he assumed the heirling considered a tiny victory.
âSo youâre right⌠it does have a nice ring to it,â Woobin acquiesced, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice as he watched the little princeâs back stiffen ever just so.
âI guess this just proves Iâm your lucky charm after all,â he added, unabashedly hinting at all the times he had been at the right place and right time when it concerned Hansol.
Hansolâs spine straightened, visibly bristling at the other manâs implications. Rather than give Woobin the satisfaction of a proper reply though, he continued his march with his chin held high, never once looking back to ensure that his shadow was in fact still trailing behind him.
It was rare that the sight of the empty manor looming ahead was a welcome one. Tonight was clearly a night for exceptions, though. The moment that they reached the front gate. Hansol whirled to face the older man once again, so suddenly that they nearly collided into one another.
With a yelp, Hansol stumbled back a step, narrowly catching his balance before he could actually topple back on his butt.
Of course, he only caught his balance thanks to the arm that shot out to steady him. It took every bit of self-control he had not to flinch away a second time, even if there was no disguising his uneasy swallow before he found his voice once more.
âUhm. Thank you. For walking me, I mean.â He cleared his throat. âI hope I didn't keep you from anything important-- like terrorizing innocent civilians or lurking in shadows, or whatever else your duties as Henchman #8 might entail.â Â
âI just sneezed and hit myself in the face with my knee.â
Hansol blinks at the other man slowly, hovering just above the coffee table heâd been about to perch on, a steaming cup of hot tea held carefully in his hands. He sinks the rest of the way down with a laugh, bright and a touch too loud. âI don't think I've ever heard of black eyes being symptomatic of the flu before,â he says with a grin as he carefully passes over the tea, âbut you've always been an overachiever haven't you?âHis smile fades as he shifts forward to place a hand on Doyoungâs forehead and finds his friend still too-hot to the touch. âAre you cold at all? Your fever is still pretty high.â He doesn't wait for an answer before he stands and tugs a second blanket off of the back of the couch. He fusses with it for a bit, arranging it over the other man just so before he straightens, satisfied with his work. âTry to get as much of that tea down as you can. I'm gonna go check and see when you can take your next dose of meds, okay?â Brow furrowing in concern, Hansol gives Doyoung one last look-over before he turns to do just that.
The Tigers Come at Night
( â )
Hansol flinched at the sudden sound of the other manâs loud laughter. It bounced off of the buildings around them, echoed down the empty streets. In the small hours of the morning it made the older man seem so much bigger-- larger than life, even.
It wouldnât be the first time that heâd seemed that way to Hansol.
Walking down the deserted street together made it impossible to miss now, though. Especially with that arm wrapped around Hansolâs back like it was. It was just the two of them and a quiet neighborhood, the only sound filling the air that of their banter now that the sirens had faded into the distance.
Thankfully, the gangster had a way of distracting Hansol from his larger than life persona by opening that stupid mouth of his.
He bristled, pulling away from the other manâs-- Woobinâs-- grip and striding ahead two paces.
âForget it. Iâll stick to calling you Danteâs Henchman #8.â He lifted his chin knowing full well the other man couldnât even see it, squaring his shoulders as he tried to outpace his companion. Even though the gangster only had a couple of inches on Hansol, his legs were stupidly long and he was clearly in stupidly perfect physical condition, and so Hansol had little chance of actually making an escape.
That didnât mean he couldnât make Woobin work for it a little.
âIt has a certain ring to it, donât you think?â