Chapter Text
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Hongjoong knew the exact day he had fallen in love for the very first (and very last time): It was Monday the 10th of September 2012, at exactly 15:48.
Hongjoong also knew the exact day he had met Park Seonghwa for the very first time: Monday the 10th of September 2012, at exactly 15:48.
It hadn’t been the meet-cute he had been hoping for… To be fair, at the time, he had never hoped for a meet-cute with anybody. His twelve-self hated everyone and believed love didn’t exist and was a scam created by capitalism to guilt-trip people into buying roses for Valentine’s Day (there was no way Hongjoong would buy imported flowers which were not even in season in February and offer them to someone… he would, however, buy whatever flowers would make Seonghwa smile the brightest for Valentine’s Day if he was ever given the opportunity).
What Seonghwa saw first though as he entered the administrative department where was the principal’s office was his stupid little brother, Wooyoung, with his right cheek bright red, not because of embarrassment or anger (even though he was feeling both of those things) but because someone had punched that very space very hard. Hongjoong was sat just next to him with one of his eyebrows busted, some blood still running down his face even with the piece of tissue he was pressing against the wound. He wanted so badly to turn his head and prevent the most gorgeous person he had ever seen to look at his deformed face, stained with blood and grim for the ground but he knew it would be sacrilegious to look at anything else than the angel that was Park Seonghwa.
Even when the man started to scold Wooyoung, his voice still sounded soft: “Woo, you promised to stop getting into troubles… Father is going to be very angry…” His hand still cradled his little brother’s hair as the other boy sniffed.
Seonghwa gave a quick glance at Hongjoong, the little boy avoiding his gaze as soon as their eyes locked on each other’s. If anyone had pointed at his pink cheeks, Hongjoong would be very adamant on saying he had also been punched in the face… on both cheeks… and it only happened to heat up and change colour right as Seonghwa’s gaze fell on him… Just a coincidence. The same coincidence that made his heartbeat stutter before speeding up. It was the adrenaline of the previous fight, nothing else.
“Did you two fight?” Once again, Seonghwa’s voice was still soft but Hongjoong still stubbornly kept his eyes locked on the floor, unable to face the older man. He shook his head hard, the movement making him dizzy in addition to the loss of blood and the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Hongjoong didn’t see that Seonghwa was looking at Wooyoung now, his attention solemnly on his baby brother.
“Liam tried to steal my lunch,” was Wooyoung’s answer, annoyance clear in his tone. Seonghwa sighed: “Again?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, continuing: “Woo, you cannot start a fight every time someone tries to mess with you, you need to tell a teacher.” The boy scoffed but didn’t dare interrupt his older brother.
“And you cannot drag your friend into it either, look at the poor thing, he is bleeding…”
Hongjoong’s head snapped up and he turned to look at Seonghwa who was already facing him, pity flashing across his face. Hongjoong hated pity, hated people looking at him like this, like he was… broken. But he got lost into those pretty brown eyes, his treacherous heart doing crazy stunts inside his chest (things he had never experienced before). What the fuck was happening to him?! He didn’t even try to correct Seonghwa about him being “friend” with Wooyoung: he wasn’t. He had just seen the other older boys picking on him and decided he didn’t like bullies. It was easier to deal with life when he could use his two fists.
Seonghwa’s hand came towards his face and Hongjoong closed his eyes on instinct, unsure what was going to happen next, body already preparing for violence. The fingers were soft when they touched his own, a shiver taking over his entire body, eyes still closed. He felt how Seonghwa helped put more pressure on the tissue. Hongjoong didn’t move, didn’t try to get away, didn’t make a sound even if the touch was still pressing painfully on his open wound.
“My name is Seonghwa.”
Hongjoong made sure to remember this information: Seonghwa, what a beautiful name for such a beautiful person. It sounded like melody to his ears. Finally, Hongjoong opened his eyes and for once, the angry spark that was always there seemed to be slightly dimer. Fuck, Seonghwa was even prettier up close, eyes full of stars, perfect plush lips and tender smile. Gods, what he would do or give to get to see that smile every day…
Hongjoong opened his mouth to speak, ready to give his own name but the door that lead to the hallway opened and a stern man and lady came inside. Hongjoong wasn’t used to people having money but he knew instantly that the watch on the man’s wrist must have cost more than what Hongjoong was worth (if kids were for sale that is, which, when you were an orphan like Hongjoong, it kind of was the case). The man’s eyes zeroed on the boys, his mouth pinching in annoyance.
Seonghwa, who until this point had been crouching in front of Hongjoong, stoop up abruptly, the bloodied tissue still in his hand. When he seemed to notice it, he hid both hands behind his back.
“Fath…” he started, but the man raised one hand and Seonghwa’s mouth shut tight. Wooyoung sat straighter but his anger didn’t die down, it fired up.
“Seonghwa, you are supposed to take care of your brother, why is he here?” The man didn’t shout but his voice made everyone in the room silent. The woman who had came with him and whom Hongjoong’s guessed must have been the other boys’ mother, came to see Wooyoung, moving his head at every angle possible to see how badly he was hurt.
“Father, I am so sorry. I should have been more careful” Seonghwa’s eyes were fixed on the floor and Hongjoong thought he looked like a statue like this, body so still he wasn’t sure he could move the man even if he tried. Seonghwa looked like he wanted to say something else but his father, once again, made him silent as he shook his head in disappointment.
Hongjoong believed it was utter bullshit! Why did Seonghwa had to apologise when he hadn’t been the one hurting Wooyoung? Was he his bodyguard or something? Before the kid could say something or protest for such an injustice treatment, the adult man seemed to notice him for the first time sitting on the chair, bleeding and in just two strides, he stood in front of him.
“Did you hurt my son?! Were you the one to touch his face with your filthy hands?!” The man’s reproaches should have made Hongjoong cower in fear or in shame, but that was a boy who had lived his entire life in foster homes. He had heard similar insults enough time not to care. He just glared at the man, challenging him with his eyes “Come on old man, I dare you to hurt me”.
“Dad he helped me! He did not hurt me okay? It was somebody else…” The people present in the room all turned to look at Wooyoung whose face was scrunched with… something? Pain? Or shame maybe? Hongjoong wasn’t sure. He also noticed that Seonghwa’s body had instinctively moved to be in front of him, separating the child from his own father. The stance resembled a fight and Hongjoong’s own body tense, ready to fight again.
And when he thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, a loud voice boomed in the room: “JOONGIE!”, followed by arms wrapping around him. Fuck, he hated hugging and he tried to escape it, pushing at the woman in front of him. He also hated being called Joongie: he had a fucking name, he didn’t want people shortening it or trying to make it sound cute. Especially not a woman he barely knew that had not earned the privileged of gifting him a nickname.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His foster mother was doing the exact same movement Wooyoung’s mom had done a few minutes before: gasping at the bruises already forming on his face and checking everywhere to analyse the damage (well, Hongjoong was goods, he needed to be in perfect condition for them). The boy had taken most of the blows, mostly because Wooyoung had stayed on the ground, hiding. Hongjoong wasn’t mad at him, he couldn’t blame the other kid: taking punches freaking hurt but Hongjoong was used to fighting older boys even though he didn’t particularly like it but he hadn’t had the choice anyway.
“M’fine,” he grumbled, finally pushing the woman away from him. His adoptive father came next to him, planting a hand on his shoulder, probably trying to give him some kind of comfort but Hongjoong only rolled his shoulder to remove it, barely acknowledging him.
Seonghwa’s family was watching them and he felt embarrassed. Fuck, he was making the worst first impression on the man of his dreams.
To cut his nightmare, the door to the principal’s office opened and one of the boys who had punched Wooyoung came out, face full of snot and eyes red from crying. His parents were dragging him out, bowing deeply when they came near the Jung’s and scurrying away after, a few apologies crossing their mouthes on their way out. Was Wooyoung and Seonghwa’s family that powerful and respected? Hongjoong’s foster parents didn’t seem bothered by them though?
“Mr and Mrs’ Jung, thank you so much for coming here, I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience” The principle approached them, raising her hand for a shake but Wooyoung’s dad only eyed the body part with disgust.
“Should we talk in your office?” The principle dropped her hand in defeat and nodded, letting the man inside.
Hongjoong thought it was odd that the rest of their family didn’t go in, was Wooyoung not getting scolded? They waited outside in complete silence, Hongjoong unable to stop glancing at Seonghwa anytime he could, feeling lucky to be able to be so close to him, trying to remember every shape of his beautiful face. The older man looked the perfect picture of calm, but Hongjoong could see the sadness in his eyes. Like the millions of stars that had been in there a few minutes ago, were now gone, replaced by darkness. Yet, Seonghwa still looked like the most beautiful being Hongjoong had ever met. He could not slow his raging heart, scared he might have a heart attack at the age of twelve. Wondering if it was what it felt like to fall in love. He knew enough about himself to know this wasn’t admiration he felt for the other boy, it was something closer to affection, like he couldn’t look away or blink, scared he would miss a crucial expression on Seonghwa’s face.
After what felt like an eternity, Wooyoung’s father came out of the office and with just a movement of his head, the rest of the family stood up in perfect synch, ready to leave. The man came to stand just in front of Hongjoong, his stance less threatening that the first time he had done that. From the corner of his eyes, Hongjoong could see Seonghwa’s body creeping closer, ready to intervene if needed. His foster mother, who had sat down on the chair by his side, tried to hide him slightly with her own body, like she could protect him from that evil man. The sight reminded Hongjoong of an animal documentary about a mother wolf protecting her pups from another threat.
Then, a hand came a few centimetres short of Hongjoong’s hand, both Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s foster mother flinching while he, himself, just frowned.
“Thank you young man, for protecting my son,” the man announced.
Hongjoong blinked a few times, unsure if he was hallucinating or not. And then, he shook the man’s hand with little vigour, hand nearly slack in the other man’s hold. Physical touches made his entire body squirm but he powered through it.
Wooyoung looked puzzled, something crossing his face but Hongjoong’s gaze was already back on Seonghwa, the teenager also seemed to be in a daze at the sight. The boys’ father dropped his hand and made his way to his younger son, one arm coming to grab his shoulder and forcing him to move out of the room and into the hallway.
Hongjoong finally breathed, happy he hadn’t made another enemy (he had enough of those and he needed that very man in his pocket if he wanted to woo his son). Before his attention could go back somewhere else, a soft voice made him rise his head.
“Bye Joongie!” Seonghwa was standing by the door, bright smile that made Hongjoong’s heart ache painfully. Then, the older boy was gone and Hongjoong was left with a gaping hole in his chest. That was decided: Only Seonghwa could be allowed to say the nickname, especially because Hongjoong would come to learn that he always used it with grace and fondness. Fuck, Hongjoong could be his Joongie if Seonghwa wanted him to. He would be anything or anyone for him. He would legally change his name even, if Seonghwa asked him to.
The scoldings he got after from both the principal and after, in the car, his foster parents didn’t make him flinch, nor did it make him angry. All he could think about was Seonghwa’s face and the way he had smiled at him.
Hongjoong knew right then and there: he was in love.
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