✓ 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | ateez

10:55

the watch wrapped around jongho's wrist reads five minutes to eleven and ticks to the beat of the footsteps of two brothers strolling down the solitary avenue. their laughter rings through the air and wraps the streetlamps with warm mirth; choi san has just made the funniest joke ever said on the planet, and his younger brother is left howling and gasping for breath.

"o-oh my god, i can't breathe," choi jongho wheezes, grabbing onto his brother for support. choi san's eyes shape into crescents, proud (and quite a bit smug) of his humour. they take their time getting home, as it's the perfect night to be staying out late, and the lazy summer heat freezes time. the lights glow an orange hue that isn't very effective in illuminating the streets, and it makes the two siblings feel sleepy on their long trek home.

they laugh so hard their stomachs ache, and they can't walk in a straight line. jongho holds onto his brother's shoulder for support as he carries on howling at more of san's hilarious anecdotes. the stars dance in their glassy, tearful eyes and all their worries melt away into the silent night.

"so," jongho says after a while, "what's the deal with you and wooyoung hyung?"

the other's laughter falters and halts dead in his throat.

"nothing," he shrugs, eyes fixed to the pavement and his scuffed shoes. he (finally) picks up his pace going home, and jongho skips after him, trailing at his heels.

"that doesn't seem like nothing."

"drop it, jongho."

"you can tell me, you know," the younger carries on, "you can trust me, you know."

san sighs heavily, dramatic as always. his breath is the only breeze that carries through the deserted street. he cannot bring himself to look at jongho, but he walks a little slower, so they can walk in step. he looks around cautiously, just to check nobody else is listening in on their conversation. he doesn't expect there to be anyone out at this time of night, but he can't help but feel like the whole city is listening to them.

"i dunno, he's just... different. like, the eight of us, we're all best friends, right? but wooyoung... it's just different with him."

san exhales the breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"so you wanna snog him," jongho says bluntly, his face so serious it would be considered theatrical to anyone else watching.

san slaps him on the shoulder, hard. jongho yelps.

"yah, not like that, idiot!"

"ow! then like what?"

san scratches the nape of his neck. now it really feels like the world is watching him, breathing down his neck (it's not jongho- he's just a few feet apart, kicking a pebble as they walk).

"he's... ugh," san groans frustratedly, "when i hang out with him, i feel like there's nobody else in the world- just us. like nobody else is real, except for us." he groans again and thrusts his head into his hands. jongho retches beside him.

"that was so cheesy," he deadpans.

"i know, i can't believe i just said that, oh my god."

a few more comfortable moments pass.

"achilles and patroclus," jongho states randomly.

"huh?"

"you know, greek mythology. something like, 'achilles wished all greeks would die, so that he and patroclus could conquer troy alone'. that's like you and wooyoung."