Betting on Love [JEONGCHEOL] ✓

Chapter Eight: More than words

Seungcheol is busy at the stove, trying to make breakfast while also keeping an eye on the project he’s working on with Jeonghan. He sighs, clearly frustrated. There’s barely any food left, and now he has to cook for Jeonghan, too.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, is just sitting back, watching Seungcheol work. He’s quietly studying him, following every movement like he’s trying to figure Seungcheol out.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening breaks the silence. Seungcheol’s older brother, Choi Seojun, shuffles out, looking like he’s barely holding it together thanks to a fever.

"Ah, hyung, come sit down. I’m making you some porridge," Seungcheol says, immediately rushing over to help his brother to a chair.

Jeonghan watches as Seungcheol tends to Seojun, his usual calm demeanor softening as he takes care of his brother. There's something about the way Seungcheol moves—so careful, so concerned—that tugs at Jeonghan's chest. He didn’t expect to see this side of him, and it hits him harder than he thought.

Seojun glances over at Jeonghan, his tired eyes sizing him up. The room feels a bit tense for a moment, and Seungcheol quickly notices the look.

"This is Jeonghan," Seungcheol says, his tone casual but with a hint of something more. "We’re working together on a project for school."

Jeonghan gives Seojun a small, polite smile, feeling the weight of the older brother’s gaze on him. Seojun just nods weakly, his attention quickly shifting back to Seungcheol, who’s now focused on finishing the porridge. The silence that follows is comfortable, but there's an unspoken curiosity lingering in the air between the three of them.

Seojun settles into a chair with a slight groan, clearly exhausted from the fever. He leans back, his eyes half-lidded as he watches Seungcheol move around the kitchen with practiced ease. Jeonghan shifts in his seat, suddenly feeling out of place in this quiet, intimate scene between the two brothers.

"You always take care of him like this?" Jeonghan asks softly, his eyes flicking between Seungcheol and Seojun. He tries to keep his tone light, but there’s something genuine in the question.

Seungcheol pauses for a moment, stirring the pot of porridge, before nodding. "Yeah, it’s just the two of us. We've always looked after each other like this."

Jeonghan watches Seungcheol with a newfound sense of admiration. He hadn’t expected to see this side of him—so caring, so dedicated. It’s a sharp contrast to the guarded, distant guy he’s been trying to crack for weeks.

"Sounds like a lot of responsibility," Jeonghan mutters, more to himself than anything.

Seungcheol doesn’t answer, but there’s a faint smile on his lips as he ladles some porridge into a bowl and sets it in front of Seojun. “Eat up, hyung. It'll help you feel better.”

Seojun smiles weakly, looking grateful as he picks up the spoon. The silence stretches on, but this time it feels more comfortable, almost like Jeonghan is seeing a part of Seungcheol that not many people get to witness.

Seojun sets the spoon down, glancing at Seungcheol. “Cheol, can you iron my clothes? I picked up a part-time shift, and I can’t afford to skip.”

Seungcheol's face tightens with concern as he watches his brother push the bowl aside. "Hyung, you need to rest. You’re burning up."

Seojun shakes his head, his voice firm despite his weak appearance. "I can't afford to miss work, Cheol. Just iron the clothes for me. I'll be fine."

Jeonghan watches the exchange, noticing how Seungcheol’s worry deepens. There’s a brief moment where it looks like Seungcheol might argue, but then he sighs, clearly defeated. “Alright,” he mutters, standing up. “But after work, you’re coming straight back to rest.”

Seojun gives a small nod, but Jeonghan can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s not convinced. There's a heaviness in the air, a silent understanding between the brothers—this is just how things are.

As Seungcheol walks toward the ironing board, Jeonghan feels a strange pang in his chest. He’s used to seeing Seungcheol as the cool, detached guy at school, but here, in his home, Jeonghan sees how much he carries on his shoulders.

Jeonghan trails behind Seungcheol, curiosity and concern gnawing at him. He’s not sure if he’s crossing a line, but he can’t help it. “Your brother looks like he’s been to hell and back. Are you seriously going to let him go to work like that?”

Seungcheol doesn’t look up, busying himself with Seojun’s clothes. His voice is low when he finally responds, “We don’t have a choice. We’re running low on money. I can’t stop him, even if I want to.”

There’s a heaviness in the air, and Jeonghan feels the weight of Seungcheol's words sinking in.

“There’s no shame in admitting that,” Seungcheol says quietly, his hands smoothing out the wrinkles in Seojun’s clothes. “We’re poor, but at least we’re happy together.”

Jeonghan falls silent for a moment, taking in the weight of Seungcheol’s words. There’s a simple honesty in what he said, but it doesn’t sit right with Jeonghan. He’s never had to think about money the way Seungcheol does, and it stirs something uncomfortable in him.

Jeonghan shifts uncomfortably, watching Seungcheol press the iron with careful concentration. He wants to say something, to offer help, but he hesitates. He knows how proud Seungcheol is, and the last thing he wants is to offend him.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” Jeonghan finally says, his voice softer than usual.

Seungcheol glances up, pausing mid-motion. “What are you saying?” There’s a guarded look in his eyes, as if he’s expecting some kind of pity.

“I mean, if you ever need help...with anything,” Jeonghan adds, trying to tread lightly. “It doesn’t have to be money or anything like that. Just... support.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, a small, almost tired smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, Jeonghan, but we’re used to this. We’ve managed so far.”

Jeonghan feels a pang of frustration, not at Seungcheol, but at how helpless the situation makes him feel. He wants to do more, but Seungcheol’s resilience is like a wall he can’t break through.

“Your brother works too hard,” Jeonghan says, almost to himself.

Seungcheol’s expression softens as he finishes ironing. “He does. But he’s been doing it for years. It’s the only way we’ve been able to get by.”

Jeonghan opens his mouth to respond, but Seojun’s weak voice interrupts from the other room, calling for Seungcheol. With a glance at Jeonghan, Seungcheol folds the clothes and heads out, leaving Jeonghan standing there, feeling more out of place than ever.