Work Text:
Jihoon’s life consists of three absolute truths: one, that hard work and perseverance will bring forth more success than ingenuity; two, that rice will always and forever be the superior carb; and three, that he has given up on love.
For someone whose livelihood is writing and producing songs, most of them about love, Jihoon has long given up on finding love for himself. He knows and understands and has long accepted that the correct metaphor for love is a houseplant. Yes, it runs in abundance; yes, it comes from many sources; and yes, it needs nurturing for it to grow. But more importantly, it requires and gets affected by so many factors: Time. Money. Distance. Compatibility. Morals. Opinions. One dissonant factor and things may go awry. It’s hard, and for a homebody like Jihoon who spends most of his time in a very repetitive and predictable routine of his apartment, his studio, and the gym, it’s too much to handle. And it’s not like he has a lot to offer, enough to subject someone to the torment that is dealing with him. He works long hours and he prefers to stay at home and he doesn’t really like hugs and he can be prickly sometimes. He misses a lot of texts and he can be brash with his speech and he likes his alone time and personal space. He’s a lot to handle, he knows, he understands, he accepts. Love comes easy to people like Seungcheol whose heart is somehow still too big for his buff frame, who takes care of people as easily as breathing. Love comes easy to people like Mingyu whose entire being has been hand sculpted by the gods, whose devotion overflows faster than the words in his mouth when he gets excited. Love comes easy to people like Seokmin whose smile can light up even the darkest of nights, to Seungkwan who can bring comfort and laughs wherever he goes, even to Hansol whose quiet steadiness brings a sense of stability, not awkwardness. Love comes easy to his friends, but not to Jihoon. And that’s fine with him. He feels loved enough, and he finds inspiration in many other sources. He has his friends, his fans, his work, his ever reliable rice cooker and TV. He’s content with this, for the most part. His friends, however, aren’t so convinced.
“What do you mean you’ve given up on love?”
Jihoon doesn’t even look up from his screen, fingers barely slowing down in typing. He’s helping out with the storyboard for an episode of a drama that he made the entire OST for, which is due by the end of the week (it’s Wednesday). It has been an exhilarating and rewarding project, something new and challenging, but it has also admittedly been very taxing. The learning curve is steep, and he has no time to indulge his friends’ terribly misplaced concerns on his love life (or lack thereof). “I’m pretty sure I just said I don’t want to go on the blind date that you're setting up.”
“This is the fifth date you said no to this month alone. I even set you up with Lee Taeyong last week, and you said you were busy,” Soonyoung responds from where he’s perched on the sofa. “You weren’t busy, Jihoon-ah. You slept in the studio after working on a commercial jingle for two days straight.”
“It was a good jingle.” Jihoon shrugs. It was not the point, he knows, but he’s too tired to indulge his best friend and his dramatics. Plus, it was a really good jingle. It's already a Tiktok trend garnering thousands of dance challenges (not that he'll partake in it). “Soonyoung, I’m fine. I just don’t think dating is for me.”
“Because you’ve given up on love?” Soonyoung prompts, obviously not letting the point go. He can be stubborn, to a fault at times, but it’s one of the traits that Jihoon shares with him, which makes them great friends. Right now though, it’s just making Jihoon’s impending migraine come up a little faster than usual, so he sighs, hits save on his document, and swivels to face Soonyoung.
“Okay, Soonyoung. What is this really about?” He asks, leaning over to reach for the half-empty can of Coke Zero on the coffee table.
“I’m just worried about you, Jihoon-ah,” Soonyoung replies. His tone is still indignant, just a touch too loud, but his eyes are soft and imploring. “You’ve been single for too long. Sometimes I worry that you feel lonely.”
(Jihoon does, sometimes. He doesn’t like thinking about it, or admitting it to himself, or to anyone at all, really. But he does, sometimes. Sometimes the apartment is too cold and the studio is too quiet and the gym too impersonal. Sometimes the sadness bleeds into his lyrics and melodies and arrangements, but he’s fine. He labels these feelings as inspiration, saves the file, and moves on. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.)
“I just know dating is not for me, Soonyoung.” He repeats, fingers absently drumming across the can. “I mean, I didn’t even have time to remember to eat today.” It’s the whole reason why Soonyoung is here, causing havoc in his studio: he texted Jihoon an invite to have dinner at around five, he didn’t get a reply (as usual), and so he barged into Jihoon’s studio at eight armed with a lecture, a blind date invitation (yet again), and his food delivery app pulled up on his phone.
“So what? A lot of people forget to eat. I forget to eat, sometimes.” Soonyoung shrugs. “You don’t always have to eat with your partner, you know.”
“But that’s the thing. I don’t even have time for myself, let alone others. I didn’t even get to see your text until you told me you texted me. I’m a mess, Soonyoung.” Jihoon shakes his head and puts down the empty can back on the coffee table. “Life is a little hectic right now and my plate is terribly full. I just know it’s not a good time.”
“But when will it ever be a good time, Jihoon-ah?” Soonyoung asks him, frowning. “You’re only ever going to get busier and busier, especially since you’ll get promoted soon. It’s not an excuse to sentence yourself into a life alone.”
“Yeah, well, it’s something I have to live with, don’t I?” Jihoon says, just the slightest tinge of bitterness in his tone. Honestly, he's too tired (and hungry) for this. “I’m fine , Soonyoung. Don’t worry. I keep myself busy enough to think about loneliness. And I have you and the guys. I don’t need a partner to feel okay.”
“Just because you’re busy doesn’t mean you’re unworthy of love,” Soonyoung replies. “I’m sure the right person will understand.”
Now that makes Jihoon snort. “Yeah, right.” He swivels back to face his screen, having had enough of this conversation. “Like I’ll ever be able to find someone who’ll be able to put up with me and all my shit.”
“I would.”
Jihoon freezes in the middle of typing, fingers hovering uselessly above his keyboard. “What?” He says, voice just a little shaky, as he turns back to face Soonyoung.
“What?” Soonyoung didn’t even bother looking up from his phone, eyes too busy monitoring the small motorcycle slowly moving towards the direction of Jihoon’s studio on the map. “I would. Put up with you, that is.”
“You would?” Jihoon asks. Not because he doesn’t believe it; Soonyoung is terribly loyal, sometimes to a fault. Another trait that he shares with Jihoon, another trait that makes them great friends. Right now though, Jihoon is not sure if the other understands what he just said, the implications of it, the burden that he is so easily assuming. Surely—
“Of course I would, Jihoon-ah.” Soonyoung looks up at him, shrugging like it’s the most absolute truth in the world. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jihoon blinks, at a loss for words. He’s not wrong. Soonyoung is here in Jihoon’s studio after a long day in the dance studio, monitoring their food delivery that Jihoon is sure would mostly be dishes that he likes. His sleeveless hooded top barely hides the athletic tape on his shoulder and upper arm, pale grey stark against his skin like the pain patches on his legs and lower back. He should be resting and recovering in his apartment, or just driving back from his parents’ house after enjoying a home-cooked meal, or going out with his friends, or even going on one of the dates that he keeps setting up for Jihoon. He should be anywhere but here, keeping Jihoon company and making sure he has eaten and will go home at an acceptable hour. But he’s here anyway, and Jihoon does not know what to say or how to feel about that.
Right on cue, Soonyoung’s phone starts ringing, and he jumps up with a grin. “Food’s here!” He exclaims as he dashes towards the door, leaving Jihoon staring at his empty spot on the couch wondering what the hell just happened.
(They don’t talk about it when Soonyoung returns. He just proceeds to chatter about the rookie group he was choreographing for that he bumped into in the lobby as he brings out the takeout containers of gukbap and samgyupsal. Jihoon joins him on the sofa, queues up an episode of Single’s Inferno—Soonyoung’s current guilty pleasure, and okay, maybe Jihoon's too—and tries not to think too much about it as they enjoy dinner.
When Jihoon gets home—that is, when Soonyoung successfully drags him out of the studio and drives him to his apartment—he flops onto his sofa and opens Instagram to doomscroll for a while before he gets ready for bed. To his surprise, Soonyoung has somehow managed to take and post two photos of Jihoon: one while he was eating, his face half-hidden behind the takeout bowl, and another of the back of Jihoon’s work chair, his headphones and black hair peeking out from the top with a little black heart hovering near his head. Jihoon spends the rest of his evening staring at the photos, wondering how Soonyoung took them without him noticing, and what other things he may have missed.)