In His Arms - Wonheon ( Wonho x Jooheon )

Chapter 53 : An Apology

Later that night, Jooheon is sitting with his back to the headboard, his knees pulled up to his chest as Wonho walks into the bedroom. The main light is off but both of the lamps on the end tables are on and it fills the room with a gentle glow, giving Jooheon enough sight to inspect Wonho as he approaches. His blond hair is damp from his shower and even with his clothes on, Jooheon can see the small droplets of water that have dripped onto Wonho’s shirt, leaving dark splotches against the grey fabric.

There’s one stray droplet that slides down Wonho’s neck and Jooheon tracks its movements until it dips beneath the collar of his shirt.

Jooheon blinks, taking a soothing breath, and lets his skull fall back onto the headboard as Wonho approaches. Somehow Wonho always manages to seem so much bigger than he actually is, taking up the room with his body and soul that it feels almost suffocating at times. Other times, like right now, it feels comforting, like Wonho can protect him from everything and anything.

Wonho walks directly to the bed and pulls back the thick array of blankets that cover the mattress and before the blond can say anything, Jooheon’s mouth is opening. “Has my mom called?” he asks, hugging his legs even tighter to his chest as the blankets get tugged from under him. His question hangs in the air for a handful of seconds and he watches Wonho expectantly, even though he feels like he already knows the answer.

Wonho slides into the bed and pushes himself up onto the headboard, copying Jooheon’s position, before he chooses to answer. “Yeah,” he says, quietly as if he doesn’t entirely want to talk. “She calls you pretty much on a daily basis, so does your sister.”

Jooheon expected as much, but it still doesn’t take away from the painful lurch that he feels in his chest. He can picture his mom and sister sitting together back at home in Indiana, frowning down at the phone as it goes to his voicemail over and over. They must think the worse unless--

“What do you tell them?” he turns his head and looks toward Wonho.

The blond is looking back but Jooheon can see that sadness again in his eyes, like from earlier.

“I tell them enough. Your sister is more insistent but…” Wonho takes a deep breath, sighing. “I never meant-- I didn’t mean to take you away from them. You have to understand that.”

Jooheon frowns. “How can you say--”

“I forget, sometimes, that people have loved ones, y’know?” Wonho interrupts him, letting his gaze shift away from Jooheon. “I just… I forget. You’re lucky you still have people that care so much, especially people that are your family.”

“Lucky is a funny word to describe my life at the moment,” Jooheon mumbles. He can’t find the will to pull his attention away from Wonho, but his fingers toy with the fabric of the sheets that Wonho has pulled up, twisting the blanket it in his hands.

“Well, still... “ Wonho continues, finally shifting to face Jooheon again. “You have your family, which isn’t a luxury that all people have.”

Wonho’s words make Jooheon pause. Because however much Jooheon wants to sit and complain, groan and curse about how unfair his life has turned, Wonho is right. In a twisted and manipulated way, Wonho is right.

He is privileged to have his family. Even if they aren’t physically present, they’re still there. In another state, maybe, but still there nonetheless. Jooheon knows what it’s like to have a parent leave and he knows what that absence can do, how it can leave a person fumbling with the emptiness. He had been young when his dad walked out on them but he remembered the loss, remembered the confusion as to why his dad wasn’t coming back. There were things that he did with his dad, like play ball in the backyard, or watch the racecars zip around on the track, and once he left, it never felt the same. Jisoo and his mom made the absence easier, but it was different. Sometimes not always being a good type of different.

But seeing the pain on Wonho’s face, hearing the words he speaks, makes Jooheon think that perhaps he was wrong in his judgements. Wonho talks like he’s knows what that loss is like. He talks like he’s lived it for a long, long time. Then again, that’s what Wonho had said earlier. He had laid out his truth for Jooheon to hear.

I was lonely for a really long time .

Jooheon darts his tongue out to lick his lips before he slides down onto the bed, slipping beneath the covers and pulling them up to his chin. He can feel Wonho watching him, and it doesn’t surprise him when Wonho slides down too, copying his movements. They lay still for a moment, listening to the silence in the room, and the faint ruffling of the bed sheets as they get comfortable. They aren’t too close, but close enough that if either of them were to stretch their arm out they would reach the other. The bed may be large, a nice queen sized mattress beneath them, but no matter how hard Jooheon has tried to escape Wonho in the past, they always end up side by side, sometimes even half way on top.

Jooheon quit trying to get away though. He doesn’t know when he stopped, but he has. Now, it’s just a natural thing to be next to Wonho, and when he does wake up in Wonho’s hold, it no longer freaks him out. Like now, being in the same bed, not that far away from one another, it would feel weird to not be like that.

When they do stop moving, it’s no shock that they are only a few inches from each other. Once the room turns silent again, Jooheon allows himself to dive deeper into Wonho’s words. He has a strong feeling that he already knows why Wonho speaks so strongly about family, but he still can’t help but ask about it.

“Where’s yours?” he whispers, shifting on his side and shoving his hands beneath his head, letting his eyes search Wonho’s face.

Wonho follows Jooheon’s movements once again, turning onto his side and pushing his hands under his head. That heaviness still lingers around the blond and it makes everything feel so dim compared to the usual warmth Wonho possesses. It makes the bed feel cold.

“I was an only child,” Wonho whispers back, his voice deep and soothing to Jooheon’s eardrums. “So were my parents. I never knew my grandparents on either side and my dad died when I was a baby. I don’t remember him and my mom only took a few pictures when they were together, so I don’t have much from him. And my mom… you already know.”

Jooheon swallows uncomfortably, picturing once again a small Wonho standing by himself, small and vulnerable in the world with no one to protect him. It makes him ache. For himself, but mostly for Wonho. Mainly Wonho. He tries to imagine his life without Jisoo, with him being an only child and it would just be so boring-- incredibly boring. He’s always complained about her being a pain in his ass, but she’s been his best friend for so long, always there when he needed her most. But Wonho has never had that. He’s never had that sibling relationship. Wonho doesn’t even have parents anymore and realizing that Wonho is all alone, truly alone without a single relationship to hold him together, Jooheon wants to cry for him.

Everything that Wonho has said and done now all makes sense. Crystal-clear sense.

“Wonho,” Jooheon whispers. He’s almost certain that there are tears in his eyes because Wonho’s gaze suddenly goes soft, the coldness trickling away and that warmth inking it’s way back in. Jooheon can’t look away as he watches the beauty behind Wonho’s eyes. Instead, he pulls out his right hand and slides the back of his hand against the pillows, letting it rest in the space between them. His palm is facing upward, his fingers gently curled, but Wonho’s gaze shoots to it immediately, and he seems to understand what Jooheon is offering.

Wonho pulls his own hand out from under him and slowly slides it over the pillows, until it rubs over Jooheon’s. The blond slots their hands together and releases a heavy, shuddering breath, making Jooheon realize that perhaps Wonho is still as vulnerable as his past self, maybe even more so.

“I’m sorry,” Jooheon silently says, letting his hand squeeze against Wonho’s. He means it. He’s sorry for everything-- for hating Wonho, for not understanding sooner than he had. He’s sorry that Wonho has suffered for so long.

Wonho nods his head against the pillows, squeezing back. “I’m sorry too, Jooheon.”

Jooheon knows that Wonho means it too.

It makes him feel reassured enough that he doesn’t release Wonho’s hand, choosing to let his body drift to sleep instead.