moving day | Heeseung x Jay

twenty-four

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November is fucking freezing.

Jay can't feel his ears as he steps into the apartment, hands numb and face starkly pale from the cold. He drops the stack of mail in his hands onto the kitchen island and makes a beeline for the shower, passing Heeseung on the way, who sips hot cocoa from a big mug in the doorway to his room. "Mail's here."

The shower relaxes his muscles, and Jay lathers generously with the soap, scrubbing his hair with shampoo and holding his face in his hands like he's in some goddamn music video just because he can.

When he can substantially feel his body return to a steady temperature, he shuts off the water and whistles while toweling himself off. He exits the bathroom and finds Heeseung leaning against their kitchen island and flipping through rent bills and random advertisements from stores he's shopped at. Heeseung extends a freshly made cup of hot cocoa his way when he nears, and Jay thanks him before peering over his shoulder.

"Yo, is this what I think it is?" He whisks a large thick envelope lying aways from the rest of the pile towards himself, and Heeseung looks away from a water bill in interest. "We took these ages ago!"

A single picture, sleek and glossy, of the entire Sounder's team, is in Jay's hands. They'd had the photos taken in May since it was earlier in the season, and they'd been on a winning streak, so it was thought appropriate to take their official team picture for the year.

Jay stands to the left of the photo, next to one of the goalies, while Kei stands on the right side next to the Sounders' substitute goalie. No one is smiling, strictly for professionalism, but Jay likes how some players look bright and refreshed.

"Wow, I actually look great in this, if I do say so myself." Jay beams. His jawline looks sharp, and he likes the way he looks taller due to his posture with his back straight and arms clasped behind him.

"You do, but that's nothing new. You were always photogenic." Heeseung takes the photo from him, careful not to smudge it with his fingers. "Even in grade school, your pictures always came out better than mine."

Jay's neck burns like a sunburn, persistent and scarlet, and he chuckles lightly. "It's probably because, unlike someone I know, I can actually shave properly."

Heeseung hands him back the photo with a flippant toss. "Excuse you. I've been doing much better since I got a handle on my schedule." He ruffles some of his hair, and Jay wonders how he keeps it so fluffy.

"That's true. You don't nick yourself as often. But if you really wanted, I could help you out. Didn't you suggest that way back at the beginning of the year?" Heeseung looks shocked, probably because Jay actually remembered that conversation, and almost devious, which makes Jay backpedal. "Only once, though. And I'll do it today before I change my mind."

"But it's a Saturday." Heeseung scrunches up his nose in distaste. "I don't have class today; nobody will see me but you."

"Do you want me to do it or not?" Jay asks, finishing his mug and depositing it in the sink.

"Fine, fine. You can set up in the bathroom."

In Jay's opinion, there isn't really much to set up. He normally slaps on some gel and gets it done quickly, but Heeseung—with his soaps and scrubs and all—has a regimen, and so Jay tries to respect it. He grabs a face towel and sets it down next to the razor before washing his hands with soap.

When he pokes his head out the door to see where Heeseung disappeared to, he's greeted with the sight of his best friend trying to lug one of their swivel kitchen island bar stools from its spot. "You fool," he calls, "what're you doing?"