title: don't wanna stop, will you come with me?
pairing: hanchul, mentioned sichul and mimin
genre: romance, au
summary: heechul went to china after siwon but stays for someone entirely different
a/n: another drabble into the model!verse. this is is placed after hello fascination, and i think someone has already been asking for a sequel to it? so here you go :D
also i know, i suck and still haven't posted or even written all the drabble requests (i have one or two left) but i've been very sick for a while, and i've been trying to take care of my health and so haven't been on the computer much. please bear with me, i'm trying to get them all done, but i also have the qmi fic exchange to do :(
♫ breathe carolina - can i take you home?
Angry tears threaten to spill from Heechul’s eyes as he stares at Siwon, sitting on a couch with some pretty American bimbo under his arm. Sure, Heechul and Siwon never agreed on dating, far from it, but Heechul thought even a casual fuck would mean something to the other man. Clearly not.
With his fingers digging into his palms Heechul turns around, black hair cascading across his face as he runs off, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. It’s silly of him to feel betrayed, Heechul knows that, but it still hurts, having his dignity thrown in his face like a dirty rag.
It hurts like hell and doesn't stop the tears from smudging his eyeliner as he dashes outside into the night, silently cursing Choi Siwon to damnation.
Han Geng is sipping his champagne timidly, nervous eyes glancing around the enormous room filled with the cream of the fashion world. He recognizes Zhou Mi, a very friendly Chinese model, who he has interviewed for the magazine he works for once or twice. He has heard Zhou Mi has a boyfriend now, some Korean fashion photographer, allegedly as cute as they come. Han Geng is happy for Zhou Mi; he deserves it.
It isn’t as if Han Geng doesn't go to these events often enough, being one of the leading journalists in the industry, but he never feels like home at them. He’s always nervous, not used to chatting with stunning women in dresses and glitter and men in their immaculate attires. It simply isn't his scene.
A sigh slips from between his lips just as he sees a man storming past him, face hidden behind a curtain of black curly hair. Is the man… crying? Han Geng shakes his head; it’s not his business what the man is or isn't doing. Still, his eyes stay glued to the door the man ran out of a few seconds prior, his glass squeezed tight in his hand.
Not thinking it further, Han Geng pushes his champagne glass in the nearest person’s hand – some surprised young kid with brown, tousled hair – and runs after the other man, heart thumping loud in his chest. He pushes the door open, wondering how fast he will have to run to catch the man, only to see him sitting on the stairs of the building, jaw cradled in his hand.
Unsure of how to approach the man, Han Geng walks next to him, weighting his words in his mouth. Before he has the chance to say anything, even a simple hello, the man looks up, grey lines dried on his face and lips pulled tight. Han Geng’s breath is caught in his throat, the man’s beauty making him speechless.
“What are you staring at? If you want pictures, you can forget it. My make-up isn’t quite in place, as you may see,” the man growls out in accented Mandarin, sharp eyebrows drawing in a frown. Han Geng can only shake his head, squeezing his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out and tracing his fingers across the man’s smooth cheek.
"I saw you going outside. I was getting bored with the party, so I thought maybe you could keep me company outside,” he replied carefully, sensing that it would do him little good if he said he had seen the man crying and wanted to comfort him. It would probably only earn him an angry kick somewhere he’d rather not have it.
A slight smirk appears on the man’s lips, his eyes measuring Han Geng, stripping him bare. Apparently, he accepts Han Geng’s words, even though with a glint in the corner of his eye, and pats the place next to him with his delicate hand. With a wide smile on his face, Han Geng plops himself down next to the man.
“I’m Heechul, and since you felt the need to invade my evening out, you may provide me with a napkin or face wipes, whichever you have with you,” the man, Heechul, says to him breezily, a cocky smile on his lips. Han Geng laughs, rich and pure. He definitely made the right choice to follow Heechul outside.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I have my purse with me tonight, only my car keys and phone. But I don’t live far away, if you’d like to wash your makeup off at my place? I swear I'm not planning anything shady, like spiking your drink,” he offers Heechul, eyes wide and honest as he looks at Heechul, almost pleading.
The other man raises an eyebrow, clearly studying Han Geng with care. Han Geng gets up, brushing imaginary dirt from his clothes, and offers a hand at Heechul, feeling shy all of a sudden. He’s never done this before, bringing someone home with him, even just for a drink and some chatting.
Just as Han Geng is about to turn away, brush it off and explain it with the two glasses of alcohol he had, soft fingers entwine with his, tugging at his hand. Surprised, Han Geng looks at Heechul, the other man pulling at his hand impatiently. “Well, will you help me up or not? We won’t get to your place with me sitting on the ground. You promised me a drink”
Smiling like a giddy schoolboy, Han Geng pulls Heechul up and under his arm, leading him back to his car. Heechul insults it, saying even his stylist has a fancier one. Han Geng laughs, opening the door for Heechul who doesn’t thank him, at least verbally; Han Geng feels that he can interpret the hand lying on his knee as he likes.
As Han Geng intended, they do nothing more than talk and drink wine while Heechul wipes his face clean and brushes his hair idly with his fingers, a small smile curled on his lips all the while. He regrets none of it, the scoffs or eye rolls, or even Heechul demanding ice mocha at two in the morning.
When Heechul leaves, sometime after four am, pressing a chaste kiss on Han Geng’s cheek and placing a piece of paper in his hand, Han Geng knows there’s nothing to regret. The flutter of Heechul’s eyelashes, the curve of his mouth as he glances at Han Geng over his shoulder, beautiful even under the fluorescent lights of the hallway.
Han Geng doesn’t think he falls in love then, not until years later, but he can feel his heart beating faster than ever, like an ostentatiously happy hummingbird and he knows it’s quite different from everything he’s ever felt. He knows he’s found something worth fighting for, and doesn’t intent to let go.
He would probably be even happier yet if he knew that he made Heechul feel the same way.
- fanfic: don't wanna stop, will you come with me?