In His Arms - Wonheon ( Wonho x Jooheon )

Chapter 34 : Garment

Most days follow the routine.

Ever since Jooheon tried gracefully to escape, Wonho’s more… nice, more considerate of how they interact with one another. Most of their time is spent with small talk, most of it not important and nonpersonal so it’s easy to get out and exchange with one another. Wonho hasn’t forced physical contact like he had on the couch when they watched the movie and Jooheon supposes that he’s grateful for it but, really, they’re always close as it is. Wonho is always close.

The blond doesn’t try to close the space between them on the couch anymore because there is no space, they always sit side by side on the same sectional piece. They sit arm’s length away from each other at the kitchen table and sleep in the same bed in a smaller distance than that. It’s nowhere near similar to how it was all that time ago when Jooheon first woke up in that room but that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing. Sure there’s no wrist constraints or needles or drugs but there’s still a lock on the door and cameras on the walls and windows that don’t break.

Everything around him is Wonho, Wonho, Wonho and it’s just the same as day one when everything Jooheon had ever known was taken away and all he had left was a pair of dark brown eyes and a brick house of a man with perfect teeth and soft smiles.

That all changes when Jooheon walks into the bedroom from his shower and sees Wonho pulling out garments from a large duffle bag.

He pauses in the doorway and stares, feeling the faint dampness of his hair cling to his neck and the smallest beads of water slide down his skin.

Wonho turns his head and glances at Jooheon from over his shoulder. “I figured you would want this,” Wonho says, nodding at the dark blue bag.

His curiosity takes ahold of him and slowly, Jooheon pads further into the room, his eyes flickering between Wonho and the bag.

“What is it?” he asks.

Wonho lifts up one of the garments and holds it out in Jooheon’s direction. “It’s your stuff. Your clothes that I grabbed from your apartment.”

Jooheon’s gaze hones in on the clothes and sure enough, that’s his shirt and those are his favorite skinny jeans and that’s his sweater that’s always been too big but always felt too good to pass up. His feet move forward before he registers what he’s actually doing. Wonho silently steps aside and let’s Jooheon get closer to his belongings, watching quietly as he begins to take out more of the clothing from the bag.

Jooheon is staring down at the inside of the duffle and hardly pays attention when Wonho steps close again, hovering right over Jooheon’s shoulder.

“I figured you were tired of wearing my clothes and wanted something of your own,” Wonho explains. “There’s plenty of space in the closet and I cleared out a few of the drawers for you.”

Jooheon nods and although he may still be pulling out his belongings and smoothing them out on the bed, he can see Wonho standing beside him. The blond has his arms at his sides like he’s unsure whether or not to take them away and Jooheon stiffens, pulling a pair of pants close to his chest. Clothes might be small and meaningless but it’s something from his old life -- before this-- and he won’t just stand there and let Wonho take them without putting up a fight, not when he’s just got something of his back.

If there’s anything that he’s learned while being here, it’s that as soon as he shows Wonho the slightest bit of gratitude or attention, the blond almost always backs down and practically turns into a ball of fucking sunshine.

So he swallows down his pride and turns towards Wonho.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his knuckles pale white as they grip onto the fabric of the pants in his hands. The effects of his words are instant and he watches Wonho’s face closely as it brightens, how his shoulders relax and he suddenly seems so much more confident than Jooheon has ever seen him before. It makes Jooheon sick to see how much of a hold he has on Wonho when in reality, it’s the other way around-- a deranged game of tug-of-war of who calls the shots within their… whatever it is between them.

Wonho dips his head in acknowledgement but Jooheon can still see the soft smile on his face, can see how almost human it makes Wonho look if Jooheon hadn’t known personally the sins the blond could commit.

“No problem, Jooheon.”

Jooheon drags his gaze away when it becomes too much… when the gentleness of Wonho’s voice mixes with the look on his face and causes something to twinge deep within Jooheon’s gut. His eyes focus on the clothes still inside the duffle bag and he forces his hands to drop the pants with the rest of the garments and continue pulling the rest out. Beside him, Wonho moves towards the drawers and says that he’s gonna go take a shower now, but Jooheon isn’t paying him attention anymore.

The time that it takes for Wonho to actually get out of the bedroom feels like forever but as soon as Jooheon hears the door of the bathroom open and close down the hall, his eyes close in defeat. He hadn’t noticed before with Wonho there, but now, by himself, he’s aware of just how badly he’s shaking. His hands are trembling as they grip onto the clothing he pulls onto the bed. Garment after garment that he pulls out is like a final nail in the coffin to how real this all is, how Wonho is only giving him his clothes because he sees this as as a permanent thing. Wonho doesn’t have any concerns with Jooheon getting out of this house. He’s certainly taken every measure into making sure it can't happen.

When Jooheon’s fingers brush the bottom of the duffle bag as he pulls out the last item, it’s then that his vision begins to blur. Tears flood into his eyes but he holds them in and takes a deep, forceful breath as he looks down at the pile of clothes. Of course he recognizes them. He remembers each of the items textures and how some were his favorites while others were not, knows which ones make him look good versus those that did him little to no favors. It’s his closet yet it had all been confined in the dark space of the duffle bag that Wonho had brought on that fateful night. All of his clothes, packed and kept away from him just because Wonho could .

Jooheon sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls the pile close. He chokes up as he brings them into his lap, running his fingers across the various articles until he picks up a tshirt and brings it up to his nose. He inhales deeply but as the smell hits him, suddenly those tears fall.

And once they begin, they don’t fucking stop. Because he recognizes the scent. It’s his-- was his. It’s what he used to smell like. These are his clothes yet they’re foreign in more ways than one. Suddenly Jooheon has something that’s his again and he doesn’t know how to comprehend it.

Jooheon holds his clothes close and even though he would never admit it aloud, he knows he’d rather keep wearing Wonho’s clothes if it meant he didn’t have to deal with the shitshow of emotions that wrack through his body.

God , he knows he’s fucked.

Maybe he’s even more lost than he realized.

There’s something completely dangerous and desperately sad in that and it only makes him wonder if this was Wonho’s plan all along. Because whatever Wonho’s intention was, it worked.

It fucking worked.