my sunflower ♡ sunshin [haechan x ryujin]

17

Haechan doesn’t know how he finds himself in an unfamiliar apartment on a Thursday night, but it must have something to do with the hand interlocked with his own and Lee Chaeryeong waving both him and Ryujin over to where she’s sitting across a leather couch in the center of the living room.

Chaeryeong scored almost straight As for her mid-term exam so Haechan really shouldn’t be surprised everyone is up for celebration.

He didn’t think he would have to be up for celebration himself, leaning more towards a nice evening with the aromatic of coffee in his cafe, but his newfound friendship with Chaeryeong—who’s the main character of the day—and Ryujin's promises of good time tipped the balance.

“You came!” Chaeryeong shouts over the noise of the chatter and the music blasting through the speakers, shifting his attention from the people he’d been talking to, focusing on them—focusing on their joined hands.

Ryujin chuckles, and it’s only because her body is almost pressed up against Haechan's  that she manages to catch it among all this noise.

“I dragged him here,” she says, leaning a little forward so Chaeryeong can hear, but she doesn’t make a move to sit down on the little space left on the couch beside Chaeryeong.

Ryujin didn’t exactly drag Haechan here, that goddamn liar; despite all the whining about how it’s going to be fun, she made it clear that Haechan didn’t have to tag along if he didn’t want to. And maybe Haechan didn’t, but the prospect of free drinks seemed nice.

Haechan is a partygoer anyway, he wouldn't turn down the invitation. Especially an invitation from Ryujin.

And now they’re here, in a room smelling of sweat, mixed perfume, and spilled alcohol, talking to people he can only vaguely recognize, and Haechan feels alright. A little tense, but the weight of Ryujin's hand on his thigh is almost like an anchor.

Though technically they are posing as boyfriend and girlfriend, Ryujin isn’t obliged to stay by Haechan's side when everyone else ditches them, seeing how this is her friend's party, but she still does; and when they decide they’ve had enough of cheap beer, Ryujin takes his hand again and leads them to the kitchen.

Ryujin allows herself jump onto the counter, swinging her legs until her sneakers hit the cabinets beneath. Haechan's back is facing her as he’s pouring them special drinks—mixing whatever he finds appropriate among the beverages set on the kitchen island because he is bored and he doesn't want to chat with some college kids. He promised it would be drinkable, so, no matter how skeptical, Ryujin decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The music is much quieter here, behind closed doors, but Haechan still steps closer when he’s handing Ryujin a plastic cup, saying, “Here you go, babe.” He watches Ryujin take a first tentative sip and breaks into a smug grin when Ryujin quickly dives in for more. “You didn’t believe in me.”

“I did, of course I did,” Ryujin argues, hiding a smile behind the cup. The sour aftertaste lingers on her tongue; she can distinguish lime and maybe grapefruit, and a whole lot of vodka, and it tastes good. Still, she can’t help but tease, “Did you spit in here or something?”

“How’d you know?” Haechan grins, turning around to reach for his own cup, and leans against the counter beside Ryujin.

People come into the kitchen, grab drinks, and go; some of them even make the effort to start a conversation, but Haechan and Ryujin stay, enjoying themselves just fine on their own, with Haechan’s magical drinks and idiotic jokes, Ryujin's drunken laughter and hands that shove chips into Haechan’s mouth just to shut him up.

It feels stupid to call it perfect, but Haechan thinks this is exactly it—a perfect night that they could be spending with other people, friends who are dancing on the floors of the spacious living room, spilling drinks on couches, and smoking on the balcony, but they both choose each other.

The music gets louder for a second when the kitchen door is pushed open, but Haechan is interested neither in the song, nor whoever is walking inside. He wouldn’t even bother looking if it wasn’t for the voice he could recognize anywhere.

Sohyun, his ex who he stupidly dated when they were juniors in college, looks somewhat hesitant about stepping further into the kitchen when she notices them huddled together, but she ends up sending them a soft smile and approaches the counter, humming under her breath.

Haechan's inside panics, Ryujin doesn't know about them, and it should stay that way. He can only pray Sohyun will zip her mouth.

Ryujin has fallen silent and Haechan isn’t moving, though his heart races when Sohyun turns around to face them, this time with a cup in hand. As soon as she opens her mouth, Ryujin's arm finds home around Haechan's shoulders, pulling him closer almost protectively.

Heat rises to Haechan's cheeks and he glances at Ryujin, but Ryujin's gaze is fixed on Sohyun; it’s not meant to intimidate—Haechan knows that kind of look—but Sohyun still raises her hands in surrender, almost spilling her drink all over herself.

“I was just about to ask if you’re having fun and how you're doing,” she explains with a slight curve to her mouth. As she raises her plastic cup to her mouth, she points it at Ryujin. “And I told you I understood.”

Haechan’s eyebrows shoot up; he looks between the two of them and Sohyun suddenly catches his gaze. He stiffens, tripping over his thoughts to find something to say. Eventually he settles on, “Long time no see.”

Sohyun smiles. It’s warm. “Hi, I've been missing you.” And then she sighs, and Haechan thinks he’s still too sober to have this conversation with her, not when Ryujin is here. “Sorry for doing this here, but if you don't mind we can catch up with each other's life later? Maybe whenever you are free?”

Haechan only nods, because he can’t come up with anything to say, but Sohyun isn’t done, apparently.

With a chuckle, she says, “It’s good that your girl is here with you or else,” and doesn’t give Haechan time to investigate any further, walking out and back into the living room with her cup in hand. With eyebrows raised in confusion, Ryujin turns to Haechan, just enough to be able to look him in the eye, not enough to slip out of his loose embrace.

“And who is that?” she asks. In this slightly intoxicated state, even dimmed kitchen lights prove to be annoying. Haechan blinks repeatedly, but the ache behind his eyes only becomes more prominent. 

Haechan shrugs like it’s nothing. “We dated before. Like long time ago."