Work Text:
who honoured me
by giving their works
- Sappho, Fragment 32, trans. Anne Carson
Jeonghan’s eyes light up as he holds the smooth, cold metal to his cheek. The pearly opalescence of the charm compliments the silky smoothness of his skin, the shining chain falling darkly between his fingers. His laugh as he struggles with the clasp at the nape of his neck falls on Seungcheol’s ears like the joy of first snow, blanketing him in warm approval.
Seungcheol waves Jeonghan’s thanks away with a careless hand, price tag pressed firmly against his palm, the harsh edges digging into his skin.
Jeonghan’s lips morph into a small pout, smile still lingering. His hair is falling across his forehead, strands escaping from behind his ears and framing his face in a way which catches the light just so.
Seungcheol thinks that painters from a hundred years ago would have given years of their lives just to capture the way Jeonghan looks at him in that moment. But he just smiles to himself, tucking the loose hair back in place, fingers brushing over the soft expanse of Jeonghan’s cheek.
“It’s beautiful,” Jeonghan murmurs, his lips chasing Seungcheol’s movement, pressing against the pulse at the inside of his wrist. His own hand comes up, fingers wrapping around Seungcheol’s arm, holding his hand against him. “Thank you.”
Seungcheol moves the pad of his thumb across Jeonghan’s bottom lip, gaze following the way the plump flesh gives easily under his touch. “You’re beautiful,” he replies. It’s too simple a reply, too overdone, too cliche, but Jeonghan’s expression warms regardless.
The small cobalt oval sits at the base of Jeonghan’s neck, jostled gently by the chuckle that bubbles from his throat. It looks like home and it looks like a bullseye, Seungcheol’s knuckles ghosting over it. It has not yet been warmed by Jeonghan’s skin, a cooly watchful eye staring unblinkingly past Seungcheol’s intentions.
He swallows, his throat feeling sticky. “I mean it,” he whispers, suddenly intent, his other hand coming to twine fingers with Jeonghan’s, grip sweaty and tight. “You’re so beautiful.” His heartbeat is loud in his ears and he knows Jeonghan can feel his pulse rabbiting at his wrist.
Jeonghan’s lips press together thinly, breath escaping slowly through his nostrils. “Thank you,” he says again softly. He teeth scrape against Seungcheol’s skin as he speaks, dragging over the delicate veins. “But I still have to go.”
Sorrow drowns out the words, flooding through Seungcheol’s bones. He bites his lip and nods, his hand still resting against Jeonghan’s face, eyes still trained on his throat.
He turns away as Jeonghan pulls his hand free, fingers more nimble at undoing the clasp behind him than it had been at securing. He turns away as Jeonghan slips a ring out of his pocket, sliding it home onto his finger with guilty ease. He turns away as Jeonghan gathers himself again into the person he will be when he leaves this place, when he leaves Seungcheol behind.
His back stays turned as the door handle turns and the cold air rushes in to replace Jeonghan’s warmth. He faces the wall, his mind ticking over the days until the door will open again and his life will drift back in.