Betting on Love [JEONGCHEOL] ✓

Chapter Nine: Torn in two

Seungcheol watches his brother leave for work, his eyes filled with concern. Seojun’s steps are sluggish, and Seungcheol’s worry gnaws at him as he wonders where his brother is even heading today. Seojun works too hard—sometimes it feels like Seungcheol can’t keep track of all the jobs he’s juggling just to keep things afloat.

Jeonghan, sitting at the table, watches Seungcheol silently. There’s a knot in his stomach, a heavy feeling that grows as he begins to truly understand just how tough Seungcheol’s life is. The weight of responsibility that Seungcheol carries for his brother—it’s more than Jeonghan imagined. He can see the exhaustion in Seungcheol’s eyes, the constant stress of managing too many things at once.

And then guilt starts creeping in. The dare from Joshua, the game he’s been playing to make Seungcheol fall for him—it suddenly feels wrong. Manipulative. How could he toy with Seungcheol’s feelings when the guy is already dealing with so much?

He wants to quit the dare. It’s the right thing to do.

But then, a horrifying thought pops up: if he gives up, he’ll have to sing that sappy love song in front of everyone. He shudders at the image of himself on stage, belting out cheesy lyrics, and cringes inwardly. No way. Absolutely no way.

Jeonghan sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He’s caught in the middle—guilt tugging at him on one side, and the humiliating dare pulling him on the other. Maybe there’s a way to see this through without hurting Seungcheol... maybe.

Seungcheol notices the silence and glances at Jeonghan. “You good?” he asks, his voice slightly raspy.

Jeonghan blinks, snapping out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking.” He offers a half-hearted smile.

Seungcheol frowns slightly but doesn’t press him. Instead, he turns back to the pile of work they need to get through. “We should finish up the project today if we can. Don’t wanna fall behind.”

Jeonghan nods, though his mind is elsewhere. As Seungcheol starts gathering their notes, Jeonghan leans back in his chair, watching him with a new sense of awareness. He knows he’s got a choice to make—one that could change everything.

Jeonghan's eyes linger on the picture frame a little longer, taking in the bright smiles on Seungcheol and Seojun’s faces. The way they look so carefree under the sunlight, it’s hard to reconcile with the reality he’s seeing now—the burden Seojun carries, the exhaustion written all over Seungcheol’s face.

“How old is your brother?” Jeonghan asks, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

Seungcheol glances at him before going back to the notes. “Twenty-five.”

Jeonghan blinks, surprised. “He’s only a year older. Did he finish university?”

Seungcheol pauses, eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at Jeonghan. “Why do you ask?”

Jeonghan shrugs casually, though there's a hint of real curiosity in his expression. “Just curious.”

Seungcheol lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back against the table. “He dropped out in high school. Needed to help around the house.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything at first, but the weight of Seungcheol’s words settles heavily between them. He glances again at the picture of Seojun, who looked so much younger, so full of life. It’s hard to believe that someone barely a year older than him had to give up so much.

“He must care about you a lot,” Jeonghan says after a moment, his tone softer than usual.

Seungcheol looks down, avoiding Jeonghan’s gaze. “Yeah, he does. Too much, maybe.”

Jeonghan watches Seungcheol’s expression change—there’s something heavy behind his words, something deeper than just gratitude. It makes Jeonghan’s heart twist in a way he wasn’t expecting.

“Too much?” Jeonghan asks, leaning forward slightly.

Seungcheol lets out a soft sigh, eyes still focused on the floor. “Yeah. He gave up everything for me. I know he doesn’t regret it, but... sometimes I wish he didn’t have to.” His voice is low, almost like he’s saying something he’s kept buried for a long time. “He should’ve had a life. Friends. A future. But instead, he’s stuck working part-time jobs just to keep us going.”

Jeonghan doesn’t know how to respond right away. He feels that familiar guilt creeping up again, the weight of the dare pulling at him. His plan was to get Seungcheol to fall for him, but seeing this side of Seungcheol—someone who carries so much for someone else—it’s starting to feel wrong.

“It’s not your fault,” Jeonghan says quietly, trying to offer some kind of comfort, though he knows how empty those words can sound.

Seungcheol finally looks up, his gaze locking with Jeonghan’s. “I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier.” There’s a faint smile on his lips, but it’s bitter, weighed down by responsibility.

Jeonghan doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent. For the first time in a while, he doesn’t want to manipulate the situation. He just wants to understand.

Seungcheol breaks the silence with a dry laugh. “Anyway, enough about that. We should probably finish this project before you decide I’m a lost cause and go find a new partner.”

Jeonghan forces a smile, though his mind is still racing. He watches Seungcheol pick up his pen, returning to their work like nothing’s wrong. But Jeonghan knows better now.

That evening, Jeonghan sits alone in his apartment, the space around him feeling far too large and empty. The silence amplifies his thoughts, making him uneasy. It doesn’t help that all he can think about is how Seungcheol and his brother live in a small, cramped apartment while he has all this space to himself.

The doorbell rings, breaking his thoughts. It’s Minghao. "You weren’t around today," he says as he steps inside. "Wonwoo hyung is busy, and the other one’s gone off the grid as usual."

Jeonghan rubs his temples, letting out a tired sigh. "Yeah, I was at Seungcheol’s place. We’re working on that project."

Minghao remains quiet for a moment, his eyes studying Jeonghan. Finally, he speaks, his tone blunt. "You’re messing with his feelings, you know."

Jeonghan doesn’t even try to deny it. "I know."

Minghao steps inside, closing the door behind him. The silence between them is thick, as if both are waiting for the other to say something first. Jeonghan leans back on the couch, his hands running through his hair as he sighs deeply. The weight of guilt presses harder on his chest than he expected.

"You know, huh?" Minghao finally speaks, his voice low but edged with concern. "Then why are you still doing it?"

Jeonghan stares at the ceiling, his mind racing. "I don’t know. It started off as just some stupid dare from Joshua... and it was fun, you know? But now..." He trails off, unable to finish his sentence. His chest feels heavy, like the room is closing in on him.

Minghao’s sharp gaze doesn’t waver. "But now it’s real, isn’t it?"

Jeonghan swallows hard, not knowing how to answer. He’s confused. Torn between the thrill of the dare and the reality of Seungcheol’s life—a life he’s slowly becoming a part of. He never thought it would get this complicated. Never thought he’d care.

"It’s not supposed to be like this," Jeonghan whispers. "It was supposed to be fun, just to make Seungcheol fall for me and then... laugh it off. But now I see him, his life... and it’s different."

Minghao crosses his arms, watching Jeonghan struggle with his own emotions. "Then stop it," he says simply. "Stop playing with him. You’re messing with someone who’s already carrying enough."

Jeonghan flinches at the harshness of Minghao’s words, but he knows his friend is right. He knows he’s not being fair. But it’s not that easy to just quit. He’s in too deep now.

Minghao looks at him for a moment before his expression softens. "Figure it out, Jeonghan. Before it’s too late."