hansolmi

[hansolmi]

vernon | you make my day | meet version

[hansolmi]

mixdoyoung‌:

Doyoung’s mum always did make it a point to serve the best to her house guests, and according to her, she puts in even more effort if it were his friends. Because apparently, his friends needed to be ‘bribed’ to stay his friends. That, and she wanted to show that not everyone in the family were uncivilised barbarians – her words, not his. To which he says, “As if I can’t do my own bribing mother.” 

It’s your typical family banter in good humour. And Doyoung knows that she’s like that with all her house guests. 

But sometimes he can’t help but feel like its more than that when Hansol is involved. Even by her standards, she goes over and above for him. “Hansol might not be used to our usual spreads,” she says; And Doyoung agrees. It is simply fact that Hansol has expensive taste thanks to his upbringing. He also agrees with her attempting to accommodate his friend, because he wants that too. But that doesn’t mean that he isn’t occasionally hit by wishful thoughts tinged with hints of envy. It would be nice if she could be just as generous towards him once in a while. 

“Is that Hanwoo?!” He gapes, fingers moving to swipe a bite only to be slapped away by the hawk-eyed woman. 

“Yes, and don’t go picking at the dishes with your unwashed hands!”

Doyoung mutters an unconvincing ‘mmhh’ as he sidesteps his mother, making his way to the kitchen sink. Only to swivel around abruptly, one hand diving for the beef dish anyways. Mum is fast, but Doyoung is faster, and she responds a hair too late. Her slap misses his hand by a mere split second and by then the strip of meat is already happily being tenderised in his mouth. 

Him being faster doesn’t mean he manages to escape her wrath though. 

“Yah! You brat!”

He doesn’t manage to retreat to the kitchen fast enough to avoid the low kick to his thighs. 

“Ah! Muummm— how can you use a technique on your child like that!” he whines, a hand going to massage his left thigh as he limps over to the sink. 

“Who told you to steal,” he snips back pointedly as she turns to Hansol, “Sorry about the commotion Hansol sweetheart, why don’t you go wash your hands too and we can settle down for dinner. You boys must be starving!”

At the insinuation that the spread of food laid out before him is anything less than perfect, Hansol is quick to raise both of his hands and shake his head in denial. “No, really. This is perfect Mrs. Kim,” he’s assures, relaying every bit of sincerity he can with his words as he trails behind the pair. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in...” he tilts his head in exaggerated thought before finishing a tad sheepishly, “well, since the last time you had me over.” 

He’s certain that Mrs. Kim missed that last bit with how she and Doyoung are playfully swatting at each other in the kitchen, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys being a part of these moments, enjoys the Kim family’s banter and the warmth in their eyes as they rough house. 

Dinners at his house had been a much different sort of affair. There had been place settings and polished silver and pressed linens and maids to handle all of the cooking. On the rare occasion that the family actually sat together for a meal, his mother insisted they wear nothing less than their Sunday best. Even something as simple as a meal had been more of a performance where his parents were concerned. 

After washing up, Hansol drifts back towards the dinner table, hovering as he waits for Mrs. Kim so that he can help her into her chair before taking his own beside Doyoung. 

He jabs his elbow into Doyoung’s ribs lightly in silent reprimand for giving his mother a hard time, if only for show’s sake. “I can’t take you anywhere,” he laments with a sigh. 

Truth in Strange Places

[hansolmi]

( ♔ )

The insult rolls right over Hansol. He learned early on that Wonwoo was a bit of a grump and so he rarely takes his jabs to heart. “Almost everything?” he echoes instead with a curious tilt to his head. He doesn’t know as much about his friend as he might like, but Wonwoo has never struck him as the type to take well to too much pressing for details. Anything that Hansol knows about him is what Wonwoo himself has volunteered. The bit about his mother was certainly new though, and Hansol didn’t want to press his luck.

When Wonwoo steered the conversation back to Hansol’s own family, the younger man didn’t bat an eye. Instead, his lips pulled into an easy grin as he nodded his agreement. “My dad was a jerk,” he agreed readily, reaching out to fiddle with the cardboard sleeve on his coffee cup once more. “My mother would have been infinitely better off if she’d gotten the help she needed from the start.” His smile fades a little, tone sobering. “We all would be.”

He shakes the moment off in the blink of an eye, but his smile is slow to return. “Those sites are dangerous, dude.” He punches out a dramatic breath and shakes his head in bewilderment. “They’re great in theory, but they just freak people out in the end.”

.bad company

[hansolmi]

@mixdoyoung​ -- sleepover wadrobe;  truth in strange places

[hansolmi]

( ♔ )

Hansol brushes off the death threat just the same as he always does, with a fond little roll of his eyes and a soft laugh. He dutifully takes another drink of his still too-hot coffee before wincing at Wonwoo’s admission. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he says, genuine. He pretends to have missed the bit about Wonwoo wishing the alcohol had finished his mother off, though. Some topics are better left untouched-- and he doesn’t believe for a moment that his friend meant those words anyways.

“My mother is schizophrenic,” he offers instead, blunt and honest and without a shred of shame. “I was thirteen when she first began exhibiting symptoms. My dad pretended everything was fine but…” he shrugged, picking at the coffee sleeve on his drink. “I could tell that something was going on. He wouldn’t let me call a doctor, so I had to do my own research.”

His eyes lift back to Wonwoo’s and he flashes him a smile, small and crooked. “I definitely don’t recommend hitting up WebMD, though. That site could convince someone that their sore throat is really a stage four lymphoma.” He shifts in his seat, never able to stay still for more than a moment at a time. The caffeine certainly doesn’t help that particular quirk. “I once went on there to figure out the difference between  tension headaches and  cluster headaches and by the time I logged off, I was convinced I had three weeks left to live.”

.bad company

[hansolmi]

180429 - Lean On Me -Japanese ver.-

[hansolmi]

( ♔ )

At first, Hansol didn’t realize that Woobin had actually followed him into the sitting room, to distracted with his struggle to work the remote for the television to notice the other’s presence until the gangster took a seat on the floor beside him. “Surely someone’s figured out what’s going on by now,” he frowned, eyes flicking from the flat screen before them to look at the other man in consideration.

It wasn’t like he watched the news all that often-- or tv at all for that matter. As much was obvious by the fact that Hansol barely knew how to work his own remote control. Still, there was no way that those police sirens hadn’t woken up half the city at this hour.

He settled back into the couch once he found a news channel-- one that wasn’t KBS. As an afterthought, he pulled his legs up onto the couch with him, folding them to put just a little bit more space between Woobin and himself. Though the night had already proven all sorts of surreal, he couldn’t help but be wary in the other man’s presence.

As if he needed further proof of that, Woobin’s words provided just that.

“What does that even mean?” he countered, frowning incredulously as he lifted his coffee mug back to his lips to take another careful sip, eyeing the gangster over the rim of his cup.

‘Perfect victim’. The phrase rattled him more than he intended to let on, but his expressive face gave away his thoughts all the same.

He lowered his coffee cup back to his lap, hands carefully cradling it as he let the mug rest lightly on his ankle. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I want to hear this report.”

The Tigers Come at Night

[hansolmi]

[hansolmi]

( ... )

“I—oh, is hyung back too?”

His tone momentarily dips down, but he quickly brings it up back to its lighthearted lilt as he plays off the unease in his gut with a smile on his face.

“Yes. But he left awhile ago. Your brother’s staying the night over with some of his high school friends. He reckoned he ought to since you were coming over. Didn’t want to cause trouble.” Doyoung can tell she’s testing the waters, insidiously trying to probe for more.

“For a sleepover with Hansol and all, you know. I guess he didn’t want to bother you,” she adds quickly as her gaze flickers over his shoulder to where Hansol was.

He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him.

“Hmm, how nice of hyung. Anywayyyss, we’re starving!” He announces loudly in an forceful attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere. Hooking an arm around Hansol’s he pulls him towards the kitchen with him. “When will dinner start?”

The mere mention of marriage is enough to have Hansol’s eyes widening in horror, and by the time that Doyoung is finished filling him in on the would-be sinister plan, Hansol’s eyes are reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights. There’s something off in Doyoung’s tone though, something a little sad, and so Hansol quickly shakes off his surprise in favor of bumping his shoulder against his friend’s, shooting the other man a bright grin to keep the mood light.

“You’re not even funny, you know that?” he teased, dismissing the idea altogether as he followed Doyoung inside.

No sooner than Hansol has toed out of his shoes than he’s being pulled into Mrs. Kim’s embrace. He returns the hug willingly, feeling the familiar bloom of warmth in his chest as he’s squeezed until he can hardly breathe anymore. He doesn’t mind a bit.

“You look lovely, Mrs. Kim,” he returns politely once he’s been released, the compliment genuine and his smile easily reaching his eyes. He misses Doyoung’s discomfort, too caught up in the whirlwind of greetings as he turns to greet Mr. Kim as well, holding out a hand for the older man to shake and laughing in delight as it’s only used to haul him into a quick hug.

As the family begins to chat and Doyoung digs out his gift to his mother, Hansol quietly stands to the side, allowing them to catch up as he simply listens to the quickfire banter. It’s always mystified him to watch the Kims interact-- their house is warm, full of life in a way that the manor had never been.

The tension between them doesn’t go unnoticed, but Hansol has never been one to press.

When Doyoung slings an arm around his shoulders to haul him towards the dining room, he goes easily, and his smile widens when he spots the spread already laid out on the table before them. “Aigoo, this looks amazing Mrs. Kim! There’s even kimchi jiggae!” 

Truth in Strange Places

[hansolmi]

( ♔ )

Hansol swatted away the hand that ruffled his hair, but the motion was too weak to be convincing. “I think I’ll take my chances,” he replied, sinking into a stool at the breakfast bar across from the other man. He folded his arms on the counter and slumped forward to prop his cheek up with his palm, his posture truly relaxing for the first time in Woobin’s presence.

It was hard to find anything threatening about the sight of the older man puttering about Hansol’s kitchen in his ankle socks.

At the mention of insomnia, Hansol let out a small huff of laughter. “Believe me, the coffee has nothing to do with that one,” he said, reaching out both hands to accept the warm mug that Woobin passed him. He inclined his head ever so slightly in thanks before lifting the mug to his lips to take a careful sip. Given his current state, the coffee could taste like battery acid and he would hardly notice, but he still paused between sips to compliment, “It’s nice. Thank you.”

The drink was warming his cold fingers and for now, that was enough.

He startled when he remembered the ruckus that had brought Woobin to his house in the first place.

“We should turn on the news,” he declared suddenly, setting his coffee aside and slipping out of his seat to scurry to the sitting room. “There might be something on about those cop cars we saw.”

The Tigers Come at Night

[hansolmi]

Hansol couldn’t muster the energy to be surprised that the gangster knew the access code to his security system. He’d found Woobin lurking in the shadows inside the manor far too many times for such a discovery to come as any sort of surprise. Instead, he only heaved a little sigh before stepping through the gate that the other man was oh so kindly holding open for him.

Despite feeling wired from the moment that he woke from the nightmare earlier, the moment that Hansol found himself setting foot back on the manor’s grounds with the heavy iron doors clanging shut behind him, every ounce of exhaustion he’d been ignoring settled heavily back on his shoulders. Perhaps it was because he was too tired to be properly disgruntled by Woobin’s antics anymore tonight. Maybe he was just growing used to the greasy teasing.

So he merely groaned at the mention of coffee, letting his head fall back and eyes close as his feet dutifully carried him to the front door. “Coffee sounds wonderful,” he admitted, lifting his head once they reached the steps. He didn’t even fuss as he was ushered inside his own home.

This was one battle that wasn’t worth waging against the older man.

“I have a suspicion I don’t need to show you around the kitchen?” Despite his words, Hansol was already drifting towards the kitchen the moment he finished toeing out of his shoes.

The Tigers Come at Night

[hansolmi]

have you ever seen anyone more stunning

[hansolmi]

“There’s something bothering you that you’re not telling me and I can see it slowly destroying you. What happened?”

not so distant future canon

Sometimes Hansol hates it that Doyoung can read him so easily.

This is one of those times.

He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt higher over his hair in a weak attempt to escape his friend’s prying gaze. They’re out to coffee at one of the cafes near campus. After a couple of weeks where their schedules refused to match up, they’ve carved out this time to meet between two of Hansol’s classes. He has an A&P exam looming in less than an hour, but that’s the last thing on his mind right now.

Absently, he tugs the sleeves of his hoodie further down his wrists, covering the bruises still healing from his latest run-in with one of Dante’s less charming thugs.

He forces a stained laugh. “Dude, I’m just stressing over this anatomy exam I’m about to bomb,” he assures, clueless that his grin is far too weak to sell his act. He doesn’t need to worry Doyoung with this, though. It would invite too many questions– questions that Hansol himself isn’t sure how to answer yet. “Which you’re supposed to be helping me cram for. C’mon, I’ve got half an hour to nail the cardiovascular system. Quiz me again?” 

[hansolmi]

“Didn’t the doctor say you needed rest? Because I don’t call this rest.”

not so distant future canon

Hansol’s eyes lift from the laptop perched carefully on his thighs, guilty expression giving him away just as much as the papers surrounding him on his bed. His sits upright, back propped against the cushioned headboard and supported by a mound of pillows, but even at a glance it’s obvious that those pillows are the only thing keeping him vertical. He’s still too pale, the circles beneath his eyes too stark in contrast. It leaves him with a striking resemblance to one of Tim Burton’s characters.

Still, he manages a weary smile as he dutifully sets aside the papers in his hands. “You’re back early,” he says in lieu of a proper greeting. His tone is bashful all the same, knowing full well that he’s been caught in the act of defying the doctor’s orders. “Was it a slow day at the station?” He launches into a series of rapid-fire questions before Woobin has a chance to properly scold him for sneaking in a bit of work when he was supposed to be resting. “Have you eaten? Are you going back in tonight? Or are you working with– y’know– tonight?”

His eyes widen as he backtracks. “Wait. No, no. Don’t answer that one.” He shakes his head too firmly and immediately regrets it, stars bursting behind his eyes as a dizzy spell takes hold. Hansol can only clench his eyes shut tight and hold his breath and wait for it to pass.

When he chances opening them again, it’s only after he’s felt the bed beside him dip with the other man’s weight, and only after familiar fingers card through his hair.

His bleary gaze settles on Woobin, taking in the older man’s furrowed brow, the concern clear in his eyes as he scrutinizes Hansol.

Hansol’s lips twist into another weary smile.

This time, he offers the other man a proper greeting.

“I missed you.”

[hansolmi]

Hansol’s spine straightened, visibly bristling at the other man’s implications. Rather than give Woobin the satisfaction of a proper reply though, he continued his march with his chin held high, never once looking back to ensure that his shadow was in fact still trailing behind him.

It was rare that the sight of the empty manor looming ahead was a welcome one. Tonight was clearly a night for exceptions, though. The moment that they reached the front gate. Hansol whirled to face the older man once again, so suddenly that they nearly collided into one another.

With a yelp, Hansol stumbled back a step, narrowly catching his balance before he could actually topple back on his butt.

Of course, he only caught his balance thanks to the arm that shot out to steady him. It took every bit of self-control he had not to flinch away a second time, even if there was no disguising his uneasy swallow before he found his voice once more.

“Uhm. Thank you. For walking me, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “I hope I didn't keep you from anything important-- like terrorizing innocent civilians or lurking in shadows, or whatever else your duties as Henchman #8 might entail.”  

The Tigers Come at Night

[hansolmi]

“I just sneezed and hit myself in the face with my knee.”

Hansol blinks at the other man slowly, hovering just above the coffee table he’d been about to perch on, a steaming cup of hot tea held carefully in his hands. He sinks the rest of the way down with a laugh, bright and a touch too loud. “I don't think I've ever heard of black eyes being symptomatic of the flu before,” he says with a grin as he carefully passes over the tea, “but you've always been an overachiever haven't you?”His smile fades as he shifts forward to place a hand on Doyoung’s forehead and finds his friend still too-hot to the touch. “Are you cold at all? Your fever is still pretty high.” He doesn't wait for an answer before he stands and tugs a second blanket off of the back of the couch. He fusses with it for a bit, arranging it over the other man just so before he straightens, satisfied with his work. “Try to get as much of that tea down as you can. I'm gonna go check and see when you can take your next dose of meds, okay?” Brow furrowing in concern, Hansol gives Doyoung one last look-over before he turns to do just that.

[hansolmi]

( ♔ )

Hansol flinched at the sudden sound of the other man’s loud laughter. It bounced off of the buildings around them, echoed down the empty streets. In the small hours of the morning it made the older man seem so much bigger-- larger than life, even.

It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d seemed that way to Hansol.

Walking down the deserted street together made it impossible to miss now, though. Especially with that arm wrapped around Hansol’s back like it was. It was just the two of them and a quiet neighborhood, the only sound filling the air that of their banter now that the sirens had faded into the distance.

Thankfully, the gangster had a way of distracting Hansol from his larger than life persona by opening that stupid mouth of his.

He bristled, pulling away from the other man’s-- Woobin’s-- grip and striding ahead two paces.

“Forget it. I’ll stick to calling you Dante’s Henchman #8.” He lifted his chin knowing full well the other man couldn’t even see it, squaring his shoulders as he tried to outpace his companion. Even though the gangster only had a couple of inches on Hansol, his legs were stupidly long and he was clearly in stupidly perfect physical condition, and so Hansol had little chance of actually making an escape.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t make Woobin work for it a little.

“It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

The Tigers Come at Night