Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They meet again at a pool party.

Yunho has run into the bushes, either to throw up or find a pet frog again, when San arrives on the scene. “Hi guys! Sorry I’m late, I had to pick someone up,” he says as he stops by the pool where Yeosang and Jongho are standing with drinks. “This is Kim Hongjoong,” he announces, throwing an arm over Hongjoong’s shoulder as he speaks. “He just moved to Seoul. We work together.”

Hongjoong has only just managed to lift his hand in a tiny wave when Yunho appears next to his shoulder from thin air. “Oh, hello there! If I didn’t already have a boyfriend, you might be in trouble,” he says, winking.

“I am right here,” says San, giving him an unimpressed look.

“Love you, babe,” says Yunho, winking at San this time. Hongjoong feels uncomfortable.

“This is my boyfriend, Jeong Yunho, and you should just ignore him,” says San. “Let’s meet the normal people. This is Kang Yeosang and that’s Choi Jongho, the birthday boy.”

“Happy birthday,” says Hongjoong, really hoping he doesn’t have to remember all these names immediately (because he has the memory capacity of an amoeba).

“Thank you,” says Jongho. He looks like he’s about to say something else when San (who has the attention span of an amoeba) interrupts.

“Oh, and Seonghwa-hyung’s over there somewhere,” he says, craning his neck. “I think he just got back from buying more booze for us. Seonghwa-hyung!”

There’s another man—Seonghwa, presumably—who’s just arrived at the other end of the pool near the snack table. When San calls his name, he turns around.

Hongjoong suddenly feels faint.

Seonghwa walks over, past the pool noodles and the unicorn float. Hongjoong can’t see anything in his expression at all.

“Hey hyung, you get what we asked for?” asks San.

“They didn’t have Hite,” says Seonghwa.

“What?!” San is less than ecstatic with this news. After he’s done complaining for a full twenty seconds, he seems to remember the situation. “Oh, Seonghwa-hyung, this is my friend, Kim Hongjoong. He just moved here from Anyang. Hyung, this is Park Seonghwa.”

“We’ve met,” says Seonghwa, again with an expression resistant to reading.

Hongjoong is startled. He didn’t think Seonghwa would admit that.

“Oh, really?” says San, looking between the two of them.

“We went to university together,” says Seonghwa.

“Oh! Well, long time no see for you two, then!” says San. “I’m going to get Jongie’s cake. Why don’t you guys catch up?” Without waiting for an answer, he bounds away in what Hongjoong thinks is the wrong direction.

When Hongjoong turns back to the rest of them, Seonghwa is gone.

Yeosang’s boyfriend has been acting weird lately.

“Hey, hyung,” says Yeosang carefully. “Are you okay?”

Seonghwa, who is sitting at the table with his laptop, is tapping his keyboard efficiently. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says absently, not looking up.

“Are you sure?” Yeosang asks, forehead furrowing a little. “You kind of seem off recently.”

Seonghwa glances up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Ever since the pool party you’ve looked stressed.”

Seonghwa looks away and sighs. There’s a few moments in which Yeosang doesn’t think he’ll speak, but he does. “Do you remember Hongjoong?”

Yeosang tilts his head. “Hongjoong? Who’s that?”

“He was at the pool party,” says Seonghwa. “The one who just moved here. I knew him in university.”

“Oh, right. Is he why you’re stressed?”

Seonghwa puts his chin in his hand. “Yeah. I’ve had some trouble with him for a while.”

Yeosang frowns. “What do you mean? Did you get into a fight?”

“Not really, it’s just that…” He sighs and seems to make a decision. “I was in a relationship with him three years ago. It didn’t end well.”

Yeosang considers that. “How so?”

Seonghwa looks away. “He was a real jerk when he broke up with me. And he never apologized.”

“I’m sorry,” says Yeosang. “That doesn’t sound fun. Are you going to confront him about it?”

Seonghwa waves his hand. “No, he’s not worth it. I don’t want to make the problem worse.”

Yeosang looks slightly worried. “All right. As long as you’re okay with it.”

“I am,” says Seonghwa, and he closes the laptop. He stares at the distance for a second, but then he blinks and looks back at Yeosang. After a few seconds of consideration, he smiles. “Do you want to play me on—uh—Mortal Kombat?”

Yeosang tilts his head to the side, blinking cutely. Seonghwa searches through his mind somewhat feebly for an answer to the head tilt, but he can’t think of what he might’ve said that was wrong. Instead he tries, “That’s a popular game, right? I saw it on the news the other day.”

Yeosang giggles. “Were you paying attention to the news?”

Seonghwa blinks helplessly. “Wha?”

“It was on the news because it was banned.”

“What? It’s banned?”

“Yeah, for years. And people are still fighting about it.”

“Ah.” Seonghwa clears his throat. “Okay.” He considers. “Another game, then? Oh, League of Legends! I know you like that one.”

Yeosang smiles. “You don’t like video games.”

“No, but you do,” says Seonghwa. “Besides, it’ll be an easy win for you. Good confidence booster.”

Yeosang chuckles, fond. “All right, hyung. Whatever you say.”

They meet again at a movie night at Yunho’s place. Hongjoong didn’t know Seonghwa would be there. He desperately wishes someone had told him beforehand.

Seonghwa’s not looking at him, just sitting on the couch staring stoically at his drink. San is sitting next to him, dynamically engaged in a conversation with Jongho, who’s sitting in the armchair nearby.

“I’ve got food!” Yunho calls as he enters the apartment. “Noodles and fried rice! And ramyun, such good stuff—ya!” He smacks San’s hand as he reaches for one of the plastic bags. “Wait your turn.”

As San pouts, Yeosang goes over to help Yunho unpack the food. He comes back to the couch soon with a dish of rice and shrimp and hands it to Seonghwa. Seonghwa takes it without looking and is already bringing the chopsticks up to his mouth when Hongjoong practically shouts, “Wait!”

Everyone turns to look at him. He probably said that a bit more loudly than he needed to.

“It’s just—” He gestures lamely to Seonghwa’s chopsticks and the food they’re holding, still hovering in midair. “Seonghwa’s allergic to shrimp.”

Seonghwa looks down at the food, seeing it for the first time. “Oh,” says Yeosang, turning to his boyfriend. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Despite being saved from a potentially lethal allergic reaction, Seonghwa is looking at Hongjoong like he’d like to drop him off the face of the Earth if telekinesis allowed it.

Right. Time to watch The Shining and have a more comfortable experience.

Seonghwa’s looking at the ceiling, eyes slowly adjusting until he can distinguish the tiles. They’re rather ugly. He wonders if his boyfriend is around. He’s much cuter. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and then notices that his throat seems swollen.

Oh, right. He ate shrimp. That was a bad idea.

He looks around him and meets the welcome sight of Hongjoong, his arms resting on the bed and his face down. Seonghwa’s throat is still swollen, but he suddenly feels much better. He runs his hand over the top of Hongjoong’s hair. “Baby,” he says quietly.

Hongjoong lifts his head, blinks his eyes open, and yawns. Then he sees Seonghwa and immediately hits his arm.

Ow.

“Why did you eat that shrimp, you idiot?!” Hongjoong demands.

Seonghwa pouts, having hoped for a different welcome. But Hongjoong’s always strong-minded when he wants to be.

“I didn’t see it,” he answers somewhat petulantly.

“Then you have to be more careful! Don’t you know that shrimp could kill you?! I’m worried about you!”

Seonghwa’s eyes sparkle. “You worry about me?”

Hongjoong glares. “No, I just stick around because you buy me pretty things.”

Seonghwa could do with less sarcasm. “Please stop insulting me,” he says. “You’re hurting my ego.”

Hongjoong looks away and huffs. “Aish,” he says to himself, but then he looks back. “Just don’t do it again, okay? I don’t want to have to put ‘Death by Shrimp’ on your gravestone.”

“Of course not,” says Seonghwa. “You’re going to put ‘I Told You I Was Sick.’”

Hongjoong smacks him again.

“Okay, okay,” says Seonghwa, smiling. He takes Hongjoong’s hand. “I’m just kidding. There’s no way I’m going to die young. How would I spend the rest of my long life with you, then?”

Hongjoong tries to turn away before Seonghwa can see his cheeks flush, but, happily, he’s unsuccessful. “Corny.”

Seonghwa kisses his hand. “True,” he counters. Hongjoong turns back to him, smiling a little. They look at each other in silence for a bit before Seonghwa starts to feel his eyelids turn heavy. “I think...I’m sleepy…” he manages to get out. Then, without realizing he’s going to speak, he hears himself say, “You know I’ll stay with you forever, Hongjoongie.”

The last thing he remembers before falling back asleep is a soft “Me too.”

Jongho loves to tease Yunho (or insult him, depending on your perspective). He doesn’t even have a crush on him. It just brings him joy.

“You should stop drinking,” Yunho is saying. It brings him joy to lecture his dongsaengs (hypocritical, of course, but that’s probably why he likes it).

“It helps with the pain,” says Jongho.

“What pain?” asks Yunho, which was probably not a good idea.

“Let’s just say I’m jealous of everyone who has never met you,” says Jongho.

Hongjoong is on the park bench next to them, alone, half listening and half thinking about whether moving to Seoul was really such a good idea. He’s leaning toward not. Yeosang is lounging on the grass close by, looking at his phone. They’re both waiting for the same person.

Seonghwa has actually arrived, but neither of them notices it. He’s carrying a twelve-pack of water bottles, which no one has requested. But it’s about forty-five degrees, so it’s probably a good idea. No one is actually sure at this point why they decided that hanging out outside was a good idea.

San comes forward to help Seonghwa. “Thanks, Hwa-hyung. Always so thoughtful. Hey, Hongjoong-hyung!” he says, cupping his hands so Hongjoong can hear him. Hongjoong looks up, startled. “Can you help me give these out to everyone, please?” San asks. After a pause, Hongjoong stands up and makes his way over.

San bends over to open the plastic, so he doesn’t notice Seonghwa’s pinched forehead until he straightens back up. “What’s wrong?” he asks when he sees his expression.

Hongjoong is there before Seonghwa can reply. He reaches for the water bottles, but before he can touch them, Seonghwa says, “It’s fine. I can give them out.” His voice is so terse that both Hongjoong and San stare at him. Hongjoong puts his hands down, pauses, and then walks away without a word.

“Um. Do you have a problem with Hongjoong-hyung?” San asks as Yeosang makes his way toward them. “You always seem kind of angry when he’s around.”

“It’s nothing,” says Seonghwa shortly.

“Uh. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

San doesn’t look convinced. “Then why are you so cool toward him?”

Instead of answering, Seonghwa puts some water bottles in Yeosang’s hands. “We’re giving these out to people. Can you help me, please?” he asks.

Yeosang blinks but does what’s asked of him. When San turns back to Seonghwa, he’s already walking away.

For the first time in weeks, Hongjoong actually has a highlight. Wooyoung has a little break from chasing his master’s degree, so he’s coming to visit him for a few days. He asks to meet him in front of a restaurant Hongjoong really likes, saying he wants to meet Hongjoong’s new friends.

When he shows up, he charges at him. “Joongie-hyung! I’m so happy to see you!” he shouts with no regard to volume control. He hugs Hongjoong tight enough that he swears he can hear his bones cracking. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Seonghwa look away.

“Ooh, and look at all your lovely friends!” Wooyoung practically yells. He points to Yunho. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

Yunho giggles. San looks unimpressed.

“I thought you were swearing off guys,” says Hongjoong, amused.

“I was, but who can say no to such good eye candy?” Wooyoung flirts, winking at both Yunho and then San. “Right, boys?”

“Okay, let’s not create a domestic disturbance,” says Hongjoong, dragging him to their table.

Wooyoung immediately makes best friends with all of them, seal clapping whenever Yunho says something funny and batting his eyelashes at San whenever they so much as make eye contact. By the end of dinner, when most of them have already left to go to home, he’s feeding Yeosang spicy food that Yeosang doesn’t look fully excited to be eating. Seonghwa looks on, amused.

“Um,” says Hongjoong. Everyone looks at him. “I think—I’m going home now. Uh. Wooyoung. Call me tomorrow, okay?” Wooyoung blows him a kiss. Hongjoong smiles and collects his bag before leaving.

Ten minutes later, Seonghwa eventually says, “Excuse me, I’m going to the restroom.”

Yeosang nods. When Seonghwa disappears around the corner, he turns back to Wooyoung.

“Wooyoung-ssi,” he starts, “could you—tell me something?”

“As long as you dump the ‘ssi!’” says Wooyoung. “Hongjoongie-hyung says we’re the same age, and I’m friendly, I swear.”

Yeosang feels the corner of his mouth tilt up a little bit. “Wooyoung, then,” he concedes.

Wooyoung looks happy. “Ask away.”

Yeosang picks at his pants a little bit. “It’s kind of weird. I just...wanted to know about Seonghwa-hyung and Hongjoong-ssi. How serious were they?”

Wooyoung waves his hand. “Oh, they were together for a long time, but you shouldn’t worry. Hongjoongie-hyung is a good person, almost to a fault. He would never make a move on your mans.” He rolls a cube of ice around in his mouth. “It’s a pity, actually. He would never do anything naughty with me. I was always like, ‘C’mon, just one time, let’s hit on a guy together. It’ll be so fun, he might come home with us!’ He never would, though. Such a party pooper.” He laughs. “Oh wait, this one time—this is such a funny story—I barged in without knocking, and there were the two of them in the bathroom, and Hongjoong-hyung was shaving Seonghwa-hyung—”

Yeosang interrupts. “Wait, Hongjoong-ssi was shaving Seonghwa-hyung?”

“Yeah,” says Wooyoung, tilting his head curiously. “Why?”

“Seonghwa-hyung won’t let me shave him,” says Yeosang. “I tried a few times, but he always got weird about it.”

Wooyoung blinks. “What? Why?”

Yeosang leans back. “I don’t know. He never told me.”

Wooyoung twists up his mouth in thought and puts a dainty finger to his chin. “That’s weird. He let Hongjoong-hyung shave him all the time,” he says. “He preferred it, actually. Said Hongjoong-hyung did a better job.” He tilts his head. “Although, Seonghwa-hyung did get into this fight once. This creep was hitting on Hongjoong-hyung and Seonghwa-hyung punched the guy. It escalated, and somehow the guy got a hand around his neck. Ever since then he doesn’t want anyone near his neck. But Hongjoong-hyung he was fine with. He trusted him. Maybe he’s just embarrassed to tell you about the fight?”

Yeosang looks unhappy. “He doesn’t get embarrassed easily.”

Wooyoung shrugs. “Who knows? We all act differently at times. Don’t be worried, okay? Seonghwa-hyung is a good guy.”

Yeosang looks down at his fingers, at the way they tighten together.

They’re standing in the bathroom, Seonghwa next to the sink and Hongjoong with a razor in one hand and shaving cream in the other. “Should’ve just done this in the shower,” Hongjoong mutters as he concentrates on Seonghwa’s chin.

“That wouldn’t have been a good idea,” says Seonghwa.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong asks, glancing up at his boyfriend with mild curiosity.

Seonghwa smiles a little and steps closer. “If I’m in the shower with you, I’m not going to be concentrating on the shaving.”

Hongjoong smacks him. “Shut up before I cut you and make it look like an accident.”

Seonghwa stays quiet with extreme affection. When Hongjoong’s done, he rinses off the razor in the sink and pats Seonghwa’s face with damp and then dry towels. “All done,” he says. “Now you look handsome again.”

Seonghwa put his arms around Hongjoong’s waist and pulls him close. “How sweet,” he says. “What would you like for a thank you?”

“Eggs and toast,” says Hongjoong immediately. “One poached, one fried, and—”

“And a mountain of jam, I know,” says Seonghwa, smiling.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m difficult,” Hongjoong mutters.

Seonghwa pulls him as close as possible. “You’re not, Joongie. I like taking care of you.”

Hongjoong looks up at him, half questioning and half pleased. “You do?”

Seonghwa looks at him so fondly, like he’s Earth and Hongjoong’s the sun.

“As long as it’s you, Bunny.”

Yeosang is hanging out at Seonghwa’s apartment, watching TV as he waits for him to come home. Eventually, he does.

“Sang, I’m home,” Seonghwa calls as he takes off his shoes by the doorway. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” says Yeosang slowly. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” says Seonghwa, coming into the room. “Were you waiting for me?” Yeosang nods. “That’s so nice,” says Seonghwa, giving him a peck on the cheek. He sits down next to him.

Yeosang turns toward him. “I was talking with Wooyoung today,” he says. “He was telling me about what you were like in university.”

Seonghwa grimaces. “Don’t believe him,” he says. “He always exaggerates things.”

Yeosang chuckles. “He didn’t say anything bad about you.”

Seonghwa leans back, satisfied. “That’s good.”

Yeosang looks over him for a few seconds before speaking. “But he did talk about you and Hongjoong-ssi.”

Seonghwa looks back over at him. He doesn’t seem upset, but he does seem slightly guarded. “What do you mean?”

“He was starting to tell me a story about you two, and he mentioned that he walked in while Hongjoong-ssi was shaving you.”

Seonghwa blinks. When Yeosang doesn’t say anything else, he says, “Uh, yeah. We were in a relationship back then.”

Yeosang runs a hand through his own hair. “Why did you let him shave you but not me?”

Seonghwa blinks. “Uh. He didn’t shave me that often.”

“But he did. Shave you.” Seonghwa doesn’t say anything, but his eyes wander around uncomfortably. “What happened between then and now?” Yeosang asks, trying not to sound weird about it.

“I just decided I didn’t like it, I guess.”

Yeosang twists his mouth smally. “So it’s not because you trusted him more than me?”

“I trust you,” says Seonghwa. “I don’t date anyone I don’t trust.”

Yeosang supposes that makes sense. Maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to assume things.

“I’m going to go put my stuff away, okay?” Seonghwa asks. Yeosang nods, and Seonghwa kisses him softly on the lips.

He’s out of the room before Yeosang realizes that he didn’t technically answer the question.

Wooyoung has left (with both San’s and Yunho’s numbers, interestingly enough). Hongjoong misses him.

He’s sitting in the room San rents out to play piano, one of his hobbies. They had agreed to meet there today so Hongjoong could help him practice. He’s plucking at keys in no particular order when he hears a knock. He looks up to see Yeosang through the glass door.

He stands up in surprise. Yeosang gestures at the door, and Hongjoong comes forward to let him in. “Hi, Hongjoong-ssi,” he says.

“Hi, Yeosang-ssi. Are you here to meet San?”

“Um. No, I—I wanted to see you, actually,” says Yeosang. He doesn’t continue.

Hongjoong clears his throat. “Okay. What can I do for you?”

“Um,” says Yeosang. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I know this is really weird and maybe kind of—inappropriate? I just—I wanted to know if I should be...worried.”

“I’m sorry?” Hongjoong asks, confused. Yeosang doesn’t reply, just chews his lip anxiously, and it dawns on Hongjoong. “Do you mean Seonghwa?”

Yeosang steps forward. “He told me you guys were in a relationship. If you don’t mind, how long did it last?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Hongjoong asks. Yeosang doesn’t answer. Hongjoong considers lying, but that’s not like him (usually). “It was...six years,” he says.

Yeosang twists his mouth up. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to try anything with him,” Hongjoong says awkwardly. “I’m not a boyfriend stealer.”

Yeosang is quiet for a beat. “I’m sorry, I know this might be impolite of me,” he says eventually. “But—how do you know he stopped loving you?”

“Well, it’s been three years.”

“Yes?”

Hongjoong can sense the unspoken and? in the question. He sighs, so quiet he doesn’t think Yeosang can hear it. “He told me.”

Yeosang looks at him, considering.

“I know he’s over me,” says Hongjoong in an attempt to end this conversation. “And I won’t approach him, I promise. I’d never try to get him to cheat on you.”

Yeosang just looks at him, expression not showing anything in particular. Then he nods. “Okay. I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything. I just wanted to know. I’m sorry.”

Hongjoong nods. He completely understands.

Yeosang puts his hands in his pockets. “Okay. Thank you, Hongjoong-ssi. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later, okay?” Hongjoong gives a little nod. Yeosang smiles slightly and turns to go out the door.

Hongjoong sits back down and picks at the keys again. They echo.

Hongjoong does not expect to run into his ex-boyfriend at the grocery store. He’s just trying to buy green peppers.

They reach for the same vegetable at the same time, of course. Hongjoong drops his hand to let the stranger have it, only to turn and see Seonghwa.

“Oh. Seonghwa,” he says automatically. Seonghwa says nothing, only looks at him and drops the pepper into his shopping basket. “How are you doing?” Hongjoong asks.

“I’m fine,” says Seonghwa.

“I, uh…Wooyoung said you guys talked the other day.”

“Hongjoong,” said Seonghwa, looking directly at him. “You don’t need to do this. I’m not gone for you anymore. Got it?”

Hongjoong nods. Seonghwa leaves.

He just wanted some peppers.

Hongjoong’s standing on a balcony, drinking a bit, looking out over the darkening city. There’s a faulty neon light in front of a shop across the street. It’s partly covered by someone drunk out of his mind. His girlfriend is tugging on his shirt, attempting to move him along. Her efforts don’t seem to appeal to him, although, thankfully, his resistance isn’t physical.

Hongjoong hears the soft tap of footsteps coming up to him, and then San is there. “Hi,” he says. “How’s it going? Why are you drinking alone?”

Hongjoong fiddles with his glass. “I don’t know. I just felt like it.” San nods and settles against the rail next to him. It’s too bad about all the light pollution. It would have been so nice to see the stars right now.

“They’re playing a drinking game inside,” says San. “‘Never have I ever.’ Someone just asked if anyone had ever crashed a wedding. It’s pretty fun. You want to join?”

Hongjoong doesn’t know how to express how much he does not want to do that. “Um, no thank you,” he says. “I don’t really like drinking games.”

“Oh, okay. What would you like to do, then?” San asks. Hongjoong must take too long trying to think of an answer to that, because San says, “Do you have any party tricks or anything?”

“Um,” says Hongjoong.

Thankfully, San is easygoing, so he says, “Sorry, didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Do you want to talk about something else? Do you maybe have a cool hobby I don’t know about?”

Hongjoong knows he’s just trying to be nice, but he really wishes he would go back inside. “I like sketching,” he says lamely.

“Oh, nice! You’ll have to show me some of your stuff some time.”

Hongjoong decides to change the topic. “Um, so how is Jongho doing? I heard he broke up with his girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but it’s not too bad,” says San. “They hadn’t been going out for long.” He laughs a little. “Don’t tell him I told you, but I’m pretty sure he has a massive crush on Yeosang anyway.” He bumps Hongjoong’s shoulder conspiratorially, which just makes Hongjoong fumble with his glass as it slips through his hand a little. As he jerks forward to stop it from falling, he feels something slide against his neck and spill out of his shirt.

“Careful there,” says San. “Oh, hey, nice necklace.”

Hongjoong looks down and quickly tucks it under his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” says San a bit awkwardly. “Did you not want me to see it?”

“No, just—somebody gave it to me. It’s special.” There’s an awkward pause. “So, um,” says Hongjoong, knowing he’s probably headed into trouble but not able to think of anything else to discuss. “It’s been a while since I saw Seonghwa. How is he doing? Generally? I mean, with life. In general.”

San is looking at him like he’s fairly odd. Fair enough. “He’s doing well,” he says. “He seems to like his job and he has a tight group of friends. He just had his three-month anniversary with Yeosang.”

“That’s nice.” Hongjoong knows he probably looks mildly ill. “That’s good. Yeosang-ssi is nice. I hope they’re happy together.”

San decides to just go for it. “I’m sorry for asking, but did you and Seonghwa-hyung used to be together?”

Hongjoong startles, looking at him with wide eyes. “What? Why do you ask?”

“You just...look so sad every time you see him.”

Hongjoong clears his throat. He feels nauseous. “He—we—it was—uh. Yes.”

Hongjoong really must have had strong feelings for Seonghwa to merit this level of discomfort from him, San thinks. “I’m sorry,” he says, “if I brought up something you didn’t want to discuss.” Hongjoong clears his throat again. He doesn’t seem to be mad, so he must just be at a loss for words. “Well,” says San lightly, “you’ve gotten over him now, anyway.” After speaking, he immediately realizes that that is in no way a given.

“I didn’t.”

San blinks. “What?”

Hongjoong bites his lip as though he regrets saying that. Regardless, he continues. “I never got over him. He was the love of my life. He probably always will be.”

“Uh.”

Hongjoong looks like he wants to throw himself off the balcony.

“I’m sorry,” says San awkwardly. “I didn’t know.” Despite everything, his curiosity gets the best of him. “If you don’t mind...when did you guys break up?”

Hongjoong taps his finger against the rail and puts his half-empty drink down. “Three years ago last Thursday.” He glances at San. “I...I left him.”

Yikes. He must have been head over heels if he’s still not over Seonghwa by now, even though he himself was the one to leave. “Do you want to talk about it?” San asks hesitantly. “I’m a good listener. Maybe it would help.”

Hongjoong doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s because he’s tipsy, or maybe it’s because he just desperately wants to share the untold story instead of him.

He talks.

“Joonie.”

Hongjoong turns his head. Seonghwa is smiling, sweet as mochi.

“How long have we been together now?” Seonghwa asks.

Hongjoong turns over in bed so he’s facing his boyfriend, and Seonghwa immediately puts his arms around him. “Ten months, one week, and six days,” says Hongjoong.

Seonghwa smiles again. “Have you been counting?”

“I always count the special things.”

Seonghwa moves even closer and takes Hongjoong’s hand. “Am I special to you?”

“Dumb question,” says Hongjoong, nuzzling his head into Seonghwa’s chest.

“Will you promise me something, then?” Seonghwa asks.

Hongjoong looks up. “As long as you don’t make me dress up in a bunny costume for Halloween again.”

Seonghwa smiles at that, but his eyes are looking at Hongjoong earnestly. “I won’t make you traipse across the campus in costume with me again, but can you stay by my side regardless?”

Hongjoong tilts his head. “I’m always by your side. Twenty-four seven. Except snack breaks.”

Seonghwa is pretty sure that’s a meme, but he doesn’t mention it. “I’ll bring you snacks,” he says instead. “All your favorite snacks. But...do you know what I’m asking?”

“Uh. You want company?”

Seonghwa runs his fingers across Hongjoong’s cheek. “I want one person’s company, specifically,” he says. “What I’m asking is that you stay with me now, and a year from now, and the year after that. That you never stop being my boyfriend. Can you do that?”

Hongjoong should probably be surprised, but he’s always just kind of assumed that they were going to be this way forever. So he just nods. “Of course I will. I knew I would stay with you the moment you put your necklace on me.”

“Then...will you move in with me?” Seonghwa asks.

That does surprise him. He doesn’t know why, but it does. But of course they’d share a home if they always were going to be together. He nods.

Seonghwa’s grin could cover the sun.

San really does not know what to say at this point.

Hongjoong is rubbing at his eyes, trying to do it subtly. “Every day I was waiting for him to propose. I knew we were going to get married someday, so it wasn’t an anxious wait. It was more like a calm understanding between us. He asked me to promise that I’d always be by his side, so that was that.”

“But you left.” It’s not accusing—San really just wants to know what happened. Hongjoong is silent, his mouth twisted as he looks down into his glass. “Why did you leave him if you promised that?” San prods gently.

Hongjoong sighs and seems to make a decision. “His mom approached me one day after I got off of work. She told me that if I didn’t break up with him within three days she’d never talk to him again.”

San’s mouth falls open a little bit. Hongjoong won’t make eye contact with him. “What—what did he say when you told him?” San asks a little bit numbly.

“I didn’t.”

“What?” It’s not really his place, but San’s really curious. “Why not?”

“I didn’t want him to fight with her.”

“But he let you break up with him anyway? That doesn’t sound like Seonghwa-hyung. He fights for what he wants.”

“Anyone will leave for a lie,” says Hongjoong softly.

“You lied?”

“I just pretended I felt less than I did.”

“You told him you didn’t love him anymore?”

“It was the only way I could get him to let go.” It sounds like a weak defense, even to Hongjoong. San looks like he’s trying very hard not to judge him. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter if he hates me,” Hongjoong hurries on. “It just matters that he’s safe.”

“Does being safe mean being happy?” asks San. Hongjoong is silent. “Because I don’t think he’s all that happy. And I think, if you’re being honest, neither do you.”

The words hit, but Hongjoong knows they’re fair. He doesn’t say anything immediately, just looks down at his feet and bites his lip. Then, in a butterfly’s voice, he says “Please. Don’t tell him about what his mom did.”

“Why can’t you tell him? After all this time? His mom passed years ago.” San doesn’t know why he’s being so insistent, but this seems...important.

“I don’t want to tarnish her memory,” Hongjoong says weakly.

San taps his fingers across the balcony rail. “Maybe you shouldn’t think of it like that. It’s not an insult. It’s just the truth.”

Hongjoong wipes at his nose quickly. “Well, no matter what it is, it doesn’t make a difference anymore. We’re done, so it doesn’t matter.” His voice cracks.

“But can’t you still be friends?” San ventures, still trying to be helpful. “Maybe if you make it clear that you never meant to hurt him?”

Oh, God. It hurts.

Hongjoong can hear faint sounds coming from the room behind them. Jongho and Yunho are arguing, probably. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any Legos,” Jongho is saying.

“I think,” says Hongjoong, “that I want to go home.” He turns and bows strangely. “Thank you for listening.” San only has time to raise a hand before he’s walking away.

“Can I see that beautiful face, please?”

Hongjoong shakes his head, breath hitching as his hair shuffles across Seonghwa’s tank top from where he’s pressed into Seonghwa’s chest.

“Please?” Seonghwa prods.

“Shy,” Hongjoong mumbles.

Seonghwa runs a gentle hand through his hair. “Okay, baby. You know I love seeing you, but I’ll wait until you’re comfortable.”

Hongjoong blushes and tightens his fists a little in Seonghwa’s shirt. He knows he’s being a little ridiculous—he and Seonghwa have had sex dozens of times, after all, and it’s not even like they’re going all the way right now—but he can’t help it. There’s something about Seonghwa that just makes him like this. What if Hongjoong looks stupid when he’s turned on? What if Seonghwa finds it weird that he just gapes dumbly when he has a hand on him? What if—

Oh.

That felt nice.

“Seongie,” he mumbles. “I think I’m gonna come soon.” He desperately hopes Seonghwa doesn’t mention how he was able to turn Hongjoong into putty in just a few minutes.

Seonghwa pulls him closer and tightens his grip a little as he continues to stroke him. “Then come, baby.” Hongjoong is helpless but to listen to him.

They wake up the next morning to the sunlight spilling in. Seonghwa kisses his hair.

They’re at a bar again. Hongjoong doesn’t know how this happened. He doesn’t even like drinking that much.

He doesn’t notice the man next to him until he accidentally elbows him when he’s leaning over to take his drink from the bartender. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to clean up the resulting spill.

“It’s okay,” says the man. “I’ll clean it up for you.”

Hongjoong leans back awkwardly. “Oh. Um, thank you.”

The man smiles and wipes the mess up with some napkins before turning back to the bar. “Excuse me, could I get another drink for him, please?” he asks the bartender.

“Oh no, it’s okay,” says Hongjoong. “I don’t need another one.”

The man waves him off. “It’s on me.”

Hongjoong doesn’t know what to do. “Thank you,” he settles on. The bartender hands him the new drink.

“You’re welcome,” says the man. “I’m Mingi, by the way. Song Mingi.”

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” says Mingi, smiling again.

“Nice to meet you too,” Hongjoong mumbles.

The TV is playing a football game. Hongjoong still hasn’t learned all the rules, despite San’s affinity for it.

“So what are you doing here tonight?” Mingi asks, glancing around them. “Are you here with your girlfriend?”

“Um, no. Just with friends.” Hongjoong gestures vaguely behind them. “They’re over there. I just wanted a little time on my own.”

Mingi looks slightly confused by that, but he nods. “So, what do you do for a living?”

Oh no. Small talk.

“Uh, you know,” says Hongjoong. “I do. Figures. And stuff.”

Mingi looks at him blankly.

“What do you do?” Hongjoong asks desperately.

“I’m a veterinarian,” says Mingi.

“Oh. That’s cool. Dogs and stuff.”

Mingi smiles. “Yeah. Dogs and stuff.”

Hongjoong just sits there awkwardly. How he wishes he were somewhere else petting a dog right now.

“Do you like dogs?” Mingi asks.

“Yes. They’re nice.” Hongjoong turns to the bartender. “Excuse me, do you sell Diet Coke?” he asks pointlessly. “Could I have some, please?”

Mingi’s looking at him like he’s trying not to laugh. His expression is almost fond. The bartender sets the drink in front of Hongjoong, but when Hongjoong reaches for his wallet again, Mingi puts his hand on Hongjoong’s.

Hongjoong looks up in surprise. “It’s okay,” says Mingi. “I got it.”

“That’s okay, I don’t want to make you pay for both my drinks,” Hongjoong says awkwardly.

“No objections,” says Mingi. “I want to.”

Hongjoong really hopes he’s not going to owe him anything for this. “Thank you,” he says finally.

Mingi settles back into the bar. “So, do you live around here?”

“Yes.” Maybe if he doesn’t volunteer any more information, Mingi won’t ask further. It’s not that Hongjoong doesn’t think he’s nice, it’s just that ever since Seonghwa, he’s never really known what to do when this happens.

“Hey,” says Mingi suddenly. “Why can a dog jump higher than a building?”

Hongjoong looks at him as though he might have suddenly gone crazy, but eventually he says, “I don’t know?”

“Because a building can’t jump.”

Hongjoong hears a startled laugh come out of him. That was so lame and unfunny, but he suddenly feels more comfortable with the situation.

Mingi seems pleased to have made him laugh. Then he leans forward. “Hongjoong-ssi, are you seeing anyone right now?”

Hongjoong can feel his face turn blank and surprised. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Hey.”

They both turn around. Without warning, Seonghwa is there. Some of their friends are coming up behind him, as though he’d hurried to be here and they’d followed.

“Hongjoong,” he says tersely. “You have an early day tomorrow. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Um. Okay,” says Hongjoong, just going with it. He turns back to Mingi. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Thanks for the drinks.” He’s slipping off the barstool when he feels a hand on his arm. He turns back to see Mingi looking at him.

“Before you leave, can I get your number?” Mingi asks.

There’s a silence from everyone. Then, Seonghwa says, “Can’t you pick up someone somewhere other than a bar? It’s cliché.”

San elbows him. “Dude,” he says quietly. Yeosang is looking at Seonghwa with a strange expression.

Hongjoong looks back and forth between them, wishing someone would provide him an FAQ for how to deal with this very specific situation.

Seonghwa opens his mouth, but before he can speak again, Yunho, who’s lounging against San, says, “Hey, just give him your number, Hongjoong-hyung. I’m so freaking drunk and ready to go home.”

“Should have paced yourself,” San mutters. Hongjoong looks at him, looks at Yunho, looks at Mingi, and looks back at Seonghwa before turning to his Diet Coke and downing it like a shot. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth.

“I think—” he starts, and then Mingi is leaning forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Before Mingi can speak, Seonghwa says, “Hongjoong. Let’s leave.”

“Hey, why are you trying to stop him from getting a hot date?” slurs Yunho, leaning heavily on San. “Anyone would be thirsty for our Joongie-hyung. He’s yummy, after all.”

“Okay, we’re leaving,” says San, dragging his boyfriend out of the bar.

“Here, give me your phone,” Hongjoong tells Mingi. Mingi blinks but digs into his pocket and hands his phone to Hongjoong. Hongjoong punches in his number and gives it back. “I have to go now,” he says. “Bye.” He bows. Mingi waves as he turns away and walks past everyone to the door. Seonghwa looks after him, forehead still tight.

Hongjoong is silly. This is not news.

Hongjoong is also adorable. This is also not news.

But Seonghwa is running out of adjectives to describe him. He’s always wanted to find the right word. He thinks that maybe, if he can do that—or if he can just pull together a large enough number of words—he’ll be able to encapsulate the beautiful jumble that is Hongjoong and predict his next actions. Or, if he can’t predict them, he might be able to meet them with whatever Hongjoong needs.

It might be unreasonable, but Seonghwa’s always been a little too afraid that if he can’t anticipate Hongjoong, he might lose him.

He feels silly, maybe even ridiculous, to be thinking such abstract things when his boyfriend’s sitting right in front of him, bent over a notepad, performing normal human activities. It doesn’t help that Seonghwa has just been staring at him for the past eight minutes with little interruption (like a completely normal person).

“Here!”

He jolts as Hongjoong shoves the notepad out at him, arms perfectly straight, grinning wide. Seonghwa takes it and looks down.

Hongjoong has been sketching him. Seonghwa doesn’t know what moment the drawing portrays, but it shows him lying back against a chair, hair resting haphazardly against his forehead, grinning wide. He must have been looking at Hongjoong.

Hongjoong has made him sexier than he thinks he perhaps looked at that moment, his first button undone, his eyelashes long and collarbone on display. But it’s not the sketch he’s really seeing as he studies the drawing. It’s the intention—and maybe even affection—of the artist.

“Seonghwa!” Hongjoong gasps. He laughs in surprise as Seonghwa pins him to the bed. The sound quickly turns into something else as Seonghwa latches onto his neck. “If I’d known my sketching turns you on I might have shown you sooner,” says Hongjoong, breaking off into a breathy moan at the end.

“What do you expect?” Seonghwa asks as Hongjoong runs his hands through his hair. “You’re my bunny, after all.”

Hongjoong giggles.

Hongjoong half hopes and half doesn’t that Mingi will text him. He gets a message from him the next day.

Song Mingi
> Hi Hongjoong-ssi, how are you?

Hongjoong hesitates, then responds.

Hongjoong-ssi
> I’m all right. How are you?

Song Mingi
> I’m good
> I heard they’re having a festival in Jongno in a few days. Do you want to go with me?

Hongjoong-ssi
> As friends?

Song Mingi
> On a date

Hongjoong chews his lip.

Hongjoong-ssi
> I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship yet.

Song Mingi
> Who’s talking about a relationship? I just want to go out with you

Hongjoong-ssi
> Um
> Ok.
> So
> It’s okay if we take it slow?

Song Mingi
> It’s ok.

At the end of their third date, Mingi kisses him. His lips are soft and the kiss is gentle. After, he pulls away and rubs his thumb over Hongjoong’s cheek, smiling. “Can I pick you up for breakfast tomorrow?” he asks.

Hongjoong nods. The kiss wasn’t passionate, but it felt nice. And after all, sometimes it takes a while before sparks fly. Maybe this could work.

He smiles.

They’re at a karaoke bar. Hongjoong does not know how. In his desperation to avoid singing, he’s drunk himself into a position where no one will force him to go onstage. San plucks his fourth drink out of his hand, scolding him mildly for not taking care of himself.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you hated karaoke so much?” he chides gently. “And that you have such a bad tolerance?”

“Shhh don’t insult your edlers,” says Hongjoong.

“Elders,” San corrects.

“You’re not my elder,” Hongjoong pouts. San takes his drink away when he tries to reach for it again.

Hongjoong’s pouting is interrupted when Mingi returns from the restroom, his eyes crinkling into crescents when he smiles at Hongjoong. “Hi, hyung,” he says. “Got into any trouble since I left?”

“No!” Hongjoong exclaims.

“Yes,” says San.

Mingi glances between the two of them, eyebrow arched. “Oh?”

San rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Remind your man that he can’t hold his alcohol next time you go out,” he advises.

Mingi turns to Hongjoong, looking a little worried. “Did you drink too much, hyung?”

“Ummmm,” says Hongjoong. “I am pleading a fifth.”

“I don’t know what that means,” says Mingi.

“America,” says Hongjoong.

“What?”

“Hyung, did you sneak in a shot or something when I wasn’t looking?” says San.

“Maybe,” says Hongjoong.

“Right,” says San. “Well, Yunho is standing on a table, so I have to take care of that mess right now. But make sure you stick with Mingi, okay, hyung?”

“Okay,” says Hongjoong before promptly plopping down on Mingi’s shoulder. He has the sudden, strange feeling of being watched from across the bar, so he snuggles into Mingi’s shoulder a little more to try to hide from it.

“Hey,” says Mingi, carding a hand through Hongjoong’s hair gently. “Are you okay?”

“Something’s wrong,” Hongjoong pouts.

“What do you mean?” Mingi asks.

Hongjoong hums. “I’m not sure. But I think I drank too much.”

“Okay. I’ll take you home, then,” Mingi says easily. Before Hongjoong can think about that, Mingi’s phone rings.

“Oh. A cell phone is ringing,” Hongjoong announces. “Pick that up now, please. Someone is waiting.”

Mingi picks it up. Someone starts yelling on the other end.

“Whoa, hey, Maddox-hyung,” says Mingi. “Stop yelling, please—” The yelling continues. Mingi listens for a few seconds. “Okay—hyung, I know this is important, but this isn’t a good time.” He listens for a few more seconds. “I know, it’s just—you know that boy I told you about? Hongjoong-hyung? He’s not doing so well and I need to take him home.”

As soon as he says it, Hongjoong’s weight is lifted off his shoulder. He looks around, surprised. Seonghwa is standing next to him, settling Hongjoong against himself instead. “I’ll take him home,” he says.

Mingi feels his forehead curdle. “That’s not necessary—”

“You’ve got business, right?” says Seonghwa. “It sounds important. You’d better go take care of it. I’ll tell Hongjoong to text you once we’re home.”

“Hwaaaa,” moans Hongjoong from Seonghwa’s shoulder. “What are you doing? Wha’s happening?”

“I’m taking you home. Mingi’s busy. Say goodbye, okay?”

Hongjoong nods in big movements. “’Kay. Bye bye, Mingles.” He waves in what he probably thinks is Mingi’s direction.

“Hold on,” says Mingi quickly, “I didn’t say I’d let you—”

Seonghwa moves Mingi’s arm so he can put his face next to his phone. “Mingi will be right there, sir. I’ll be taking Hongjoong home,” he says. With a squawk of protest from Mingi, Seonghwa hangs up the call. “Right,” he says. “We’ll be going, then.” He turns, Hongjoong hanging off of him heavily, and starts making his way to the door. He can hear Mingi still protesting behind him, and one of his friends quietly saying, “Just let it go for now.”

Seonghwa’s forgotten about his boyfriend until he comes face to face with him. Yeosang is wearing a strange expression. “I’m sorry, Yeosangs,” he says softly, so as to not disturb Hongjoong. “I need to make sure he gets home okay. I’m worried about him.”

“I wanna go home,” Hongjoong says loudly.

Seonghwa readjusts his hold. “I’m sorry,” he tells Yeosang again. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

Yeosang nods. He doesn’t look happy.

Hongjoong is in a good mood by the time they get to his apartment. “Hey, Seonghwa!” he says excitedly. “We got in the door! How did we do that?”

“I took your keys from your pocket,” Seonghwa says patiently.

“Whoa. You’re a genius,” says Hongjoong genuinely.

“Okay, you’re going to bed,” says Seonghwa, carrying more than supporting him as they walk to the bedroom.

Hongjoong collapses on the bed, giggling. “Hey, Hwa,” he says. “Isn’t it strange that you get happy when you’re drunk?”

“So strange,” says Seonghwa as he takes off Hongjoong’s shoes and jacket.

“Strange.” Hongjoong giggles again. “So strange.” He’s so lost in his giggling that it takes him a while before he thinks to say, “Wait, where did you go?”

Seonghwa returns from the bathroom with a glass of water and some painkillers, which he puts on the side table. “For the morning,” he says. “Make sure to drink all the water.” He moves Hongjoong’s trash can next to the bed.

“Why?” says Hongjoong, looking at the trash.

“In case you throw up in the middle of the night,” Seonghwa explains.

Hongjoong wrinkles his nose like a bunny. “Ew.”

“Roll onto your side, Joongie.” Hongjoong does so dutifully. Seonghwa tucks his blanket around him carefully before leaning back and looking at him.

“I should go now,” he says.

Hongjoong nods. “Yes, you need to tell Yeosang-ssi you got home okay. He wants to know that. ’Cause he likes you. And you like him. Thanks so nice. I also have somebody I like.”

Seonghwa’s head jerks up. “What? Who is it? Is it Mingi?”

Hongjoong shakes his head, giggling. “I like him, but he’s not the one I like.”

“Who is it, then?” asks Seonghwa.

Hongjoong leans in close and cups his hand near his mouth. “It’s a secret,” he says in a loud whisper.

Seonghwa’s forehead is unhappy. “Why is it a secret? Did you not tell him yet? Is he too cowardly to ask you out? You shouldn’t date a guy like that, Hongjoong. You’re too good for him.”

“Mmmmmm he already has somebody he’s dating,” Hongjoong confides.

“That’s stupid. Why would he date someone else when he could have you?” As soon as Seonghwa says it, his face changes and he backpedals quickly. “I mean, never mind, you should say good riddance to him. He’s not worth your time. Just ignore him. That’s what you should do.” He nods, as if to emphasize his point.

“But I like him,” Hongjoong whines. “Oh!” he perks up. “Did you hear Wooyoung is dating Yunnie and San? That’s so nice. He deserves it. He’s so nice.” His eyes become bright, and he gets up on his elbow. “Oh! We should throw them a congratulation party!”

Seonghwa smiles despite himself. “They’re not getting married, Joongie.”

“I know, but it’s so nice Wooie has someones!” He spreads his arms wide in excitement before noticing that Seonghwa is looking at him with something that, if he were braver, he would call affection.

“You always did tend to get happy when you were drunk,” says Seonghwa softly. For the first time in three years, he smiles at Hongjoong.

Shit.

Shit.

Hongjoong can’t do this again.

He jerks away and rolls over in bed, covering himself completely with the blanket. His heart is spinning. “You should go,” he says to the darkness, breathless. “Yeosang-ssi will start to wonder where you are.”

There’s a silence from the other side of the bed, and then Seonghwa says, “Okay.” There’s the sound of him shuffling. “Take care, Joonie,” he says. Hongjoong doesn’t answer.

The door clicks when Seonghwa leaves.

Hongjoong calls Mingi the next day. Almost before Mingi picks up, he says, “Hey, do you want to come over to my place today?”

Mingi sounds surprised but happy. “Sure, did you have something in mind?”

“There’s a new romantic comedy they just added to Netflix,” says Hongjoong. “It looks stupid and corny. Do you want to watch it with me?”

“I’ll watch anything with you.”

“Okay, see you soon,” says Hongjoong loudly, and he hangs up.

Mingi comes over. “Hey,” says Hongjoong as soon as he comes through the door. “How are you?”

“I’m great,” says Mingi, smiling warmly as he takes off his shoes. “How are you?”

“Ready to watch a dumb movie,” says Hongjoong. “I’m going to find it.” Mingi nods. Hongjoong picks up the remote as Mingi settles into the couch beside him.

About fifteen minutes into the movie, Mingi stretches. It doesn’t take long for Hongjoong to realize that he’s doing it as an excuse to put his arm around him. He decides he doesn’t mind. It’s kind of nice, actually. When the credits are rolling, Mingi turns to him.

“So? he asks. “What did you think?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “So stupid. Why would the guy treat the girl so badly if he liked her? She should have poured water over his head as soon as they got into that fight in the park.”

“Ooh, I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of you,” says Mingi, smiling. “Is that what you would have done?”

“I would’ve punched him,” says Hongjoong confidently. “How dare he do that to her?”

“You’re the kind of person who would treat your partner well, right?”

Hongjoong nods.

“Hyung.”

When Hongjoong turns, Mingi leans in to kiss him. Hongjoong automatically starts to close his eyes, and then—

Hongjoong squeaks as he feels arms wrap around him, a warm body pressed up against his back.

“Ya!” he says, hitting Seonghwa with his spatula. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Seonghwa chuckles, nose snuggled against Hongjoong’s neck. “You’re so adorable,” he says. “Who gave you permission to be so adorable?

“Aish,” says Hongjoong, turning back to the stove. “Stop it with the flattery.”

“Never,” Seonghwa declares. Hongjoong feels fingers start to brush against his sides, and he immediately straightens.

“If you tickle me, I swear to God, I am never buying you bungeoppang again.”

He can literally feel the pout against his neck. “Aw, don’t be like that, babe,” says Seonghwa.

“Don’t you ‘babe’ me,” Hongjoong scolds.

“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, didn’t he?” Seonghwa teases.

“I woke up next to you,” Hongjoong protests, grumbling. “How could that have been a bad start to my day?”

Seonghwa straightens. Hongjoong can practically see him beaming.

“Aw, babe!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hongjoong grumbles before Seonghwa can go any further. “Now let me finish breakfast and I’ll take you out somewhere later, okay?”

“Whatever my sunshine wants,” says Seonghwa. After another second of silence, Hongjoong thinks he’s going to pull away, but then he feels a soft kiss press against his neck.

“Thank you,” says Hongjoong before he can stop himself.

“For what?” Seonghwa asks, sounding curious.

Hongjoong keeps his little smile to himself. “For treating me right.” He expects Seonghwa to make some corny response to that again, but instead he just pulls Hongjoong a little closer.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” he says softly.

Hongjoong pushes down the ridiculous welling of happy tears.

Without realizing it, Hongjoong jerks away.

Mingi pauses. “Is something wrong?”

“I think there’s someone I’m not over yet,” he says without thinking. Mingi doesn’t say anything, just looks and blinks. “I’m sorry,” says Hongjoong, feeling awful. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“Is it Seonghwa-ssi?” Mingi asks.

Hongjoong doesn’t even know what to do. He just ends up nodding. “How did you know?” he asks softly.

“Because sometimes you look at him like you’re burning and he’s water,” says Mingi.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong almost whispers. “Thank you for being so nice to me.”

Mingi smiles. “Of course.”

The room is calm. They’re lying together, so tangled up with the bedding that they’re basically half sheet at this point. Seonghwa’s running his eyes over Hongjoong’s face like a touchless caress.

Hongjoong’s so happy that he doesn’t even realize the words are slipping out. “That was my first.”

Seonghwa tilts his head on the pillow and runs his thumb across Hongjoong’s naked side where his hand is resting. “Your first what?”

Hongjoong looks down at his fingers, twisting them and grinning to himself. He nuzzles his nose into the pillow. “My first time.”

Seonghwa doesn’t seem to process that at first. When he does, his body jolts slightly. “Wait, I was your first?” he asks. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have made it special for you.” He looks so worried that Hongjoong laughs. He has such a giddy feeling. Seonghwa looks slightly taken aback, which is probably a normal response to that.

“I’m sorry,” says Hongjoong. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just surprised that you care that much.”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows knit together and he brings his hand up to cup the side of Hongjoong’s jaw. “Why wouldn’t I care? Your first time is important. You should have told me. I would’ve been gentler.”

Hongjoong snuggles closer. “Well, you’ll just have to find opportunities to show me that you can be gentle, won’t you?”

There are words unsaid on Seonghwa’s tongue, words that are too soon to let out. He swallows them.

Hand resting against Seonghwa’s chest, Hongjoong falls asleep.

Hongjoong steps out into the air, which is cooler than usual. He pulls up his collar tighter around him and starts down the steps to the street below.

He doesn’t know why he’s so upset. He always knew he wasn’t over Seonghwa. A part of him thought he might never get over him. So why does it hurt so much?

There’s an inhuman squeal.

Hongjoong instinctively stops in his tracks. It’s too dark to see, but he thought the noise sounded like a car—but hadn’t he checked both ways before he stepped into the crosswalk?

The last thing he sees is the glare of two headlights coming toward him.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound isn’t actually a heart monitor, but he doesn’t grasp that for a good few seconds. It’s actually just a sound in his ears, he realizes, like someone put miniature car alarms on either side of his head. And his stomach hurts. Or his side. One of those. Whatever the case, it really, really hurts.

He knows he’s being rushed through somewhere—probably a building, now that he thinks about it—but he can’t focus enough to even see walls or a floor. Someone’s talking. Many people are talking, actually.

“...family?”

“Room number—”

“...doctor…”

There’s an unpleasant smell clinging vaguely to the air, but he’s only able to process it for a second before he’s drawn to the slight sensation of bumping beneath him. He can’t quite make his eyes open, but he knows there’s a light that’s so harsh it can get through his eyelids.

There’s so much light. Why won’t the light stop?

His head starts to get dizzy, his thoughts swimming as they slowly start to drown under the weight of some kind of compelling desire to slow down, slow down. Despite the urge, he keeps seeing faces. Ms. Park, a few times. San, Yeosang, Mingi. Seonghwa.

Before he falls back asleep, he has one last thought.

Oh, crap. I never said enough.

Chapter Text

Everything is so still. Seonghwa can see the specks of dust floating through the air. They seem to have more direction than he does right now.

Hongjoong is moderately gripping the edges of his suitcase with slightly white fingers.

In a voice that sounds like it’s been stranded somewhere without water, Seonghwa asks, “Why?”

Hongjoong looks apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to end this way.”

“I don’t understand,” says Seonghwa. “We were so happy, weren’t we?”

“Yes,” says Hongjoong. “And I don’t regret any of it, I swear.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

Hongjoong looks down at his hands. “I just don’t feel right about us.”

Seonghwa stares and swallows. “You’re leaving because of a feeling?”

Hongjoong doesn’t answer. He just chews on his lip.

“Do you have to leave today?” Seonghwa asks. “Isn’t that too sudden? You never gave me any sign and then you suddenly say that you’re ending this? Can’t we just—talk this out?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “We can’t. But I want you to know that there’s no part of me that doesn’t want the best for you. I want you to be happier than you’ve ever been.”

“You’re dumping me and you want me to be happy?” Seonghwa asks, more shocked than incredulous.

“Eventually,” says Hongjoong. “I know it’ll be hard. It’ll be hard for me too. But I know our happiness is more than just one person.”

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa walks forward and takes Hongjoong’s hands in his. He’s trying desperately to find something in Hongjoong’s eyes, but Hongjoong won’t look at him. “Please. Baby. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. If there’s something wrong, just tell me. I’ll change it for you.”

“I’ll come back for the rest of my things when you’re out,” says Hongjoong. “I promise I won’t disturb anything. And...I don’t think we should stay in touch after this.”

“Hold on, hold on,” says Seonghwa. “Wait. This is too harsh, Hongjoong. Don’t you care about my feelings at all? Can’t you see what you’re doing?” He feels his eyes getting wet.

“I’m sorry,” says Hongjoong simply. “I’m really sorry. I care about you, Seonghwa. I don’t want to hurt you at all. I just can’t do this anymore.”

Seonghwa is crying now, ugly fat tears. He knows he needs a tissue. “Hongjoong, if you’re going to leave, you should at least give me a reason,” he says. “You owe me that.”

Hongjoong takes his hands away. “Please. Don’t do that.”

“Tell me,” Seonghwa insists. “Don’t end six years without a reason.”

Hongjoong looks up. “I realized I don’t love you anymore.”

Seonghwa doesn’t feel the pain at first. It feels like somebody punched right through his body, but he doesn’t realize it’s pain until he gasps for breath.

He hears more than sees Hongjoong go, his shoes tapping against the ground until the sounds dissolve.

Something’s wrong. Seonghwa looks down at his chest just to check. Because for a second, he thought the pain was because his skin had split open or an organ had ruptured. It takes him a while to realize the hurt isn’t physical.

His knees feel the sudden desire to polish the ground. When they collapse, they drag the rest of his body with them, down to the floor.

His tears start making a puddle.

Hongjoong wakes up like it’s a romance novel. The harsh light of what must have been the hospital hallway is gone, replaced by cliché sunlight coming through the side window. There are flowers on the table by the door and some water on the table beside his bed. He notices he’s wearing light blue clothes and his side hurts.

And there, even though Hongjoong didn’t want to bother him, is Seonghwa, his head resting on his arms on the hospital bed. His face is turned to one side and his back is presumably stiff beyond belief. “How long has he been like that?” Hongjoong asks without thinking, because he’s assuming there’s someone else in the room.

“All night,” says a soft voice that sounds like San’s. Hongjoong is still looking at Seonghwa. “We tried to get him to go home to sleep, but he had that look in his eye.”

He must have woken up before, Hongjoong thinks, if San isn’t rushing to get the nurse right now. It’s an absent thought.

Seonghwa’s hair looks so soft. As Hongjoong falls back into memories and dreams, he has the thought that he really wants to touch it to see if it’s still as soft as the last time he did. But he knows he’s specifically engineered it so that he can’t do that anymore.

What a pity he had to trade that right for a mother’s love.

Seonghwa’s brought Hongjoong to a farm. Hongjoong has no idea why until he sees that there are animals. He loves animals to death, and these ones are specifically for petting purposes!

He zooms into the rabbit enclosure faster than Seonghwa thought was humanly possible.

“Bunny!” he yells as soon as he finds one that won’t hop away. The bunny twitches its nose. “I am naming you ‘Hongjoong,’” Hongjoong announces, reaching out to pet it.

“She’s a female, sweetheart,” says Seonghwa, smiling.

“Sex is nebulous. I am naming you ‘Hongjoong,’” Hongjoong repeats to the bunny.

Seonghwa tilts his head. “Why are you naming a bunny after yourself?”

“Because bunnies are so loved,” says Hongjoong, as though it’s obvious. “Everyone is so fond of them. If this bunny shares my name, the affection will rub off!”

Seonghwa smiles. “What do you mean, affection? What affection are you missing?”

“You can never have too much affection,” says Hongjoong, nodding solemnly. “I will give the bunny all my love so she will love me in turn.”

“You don’t need the bunny’s love,” Seonghwa informs him. “I can love you twice as much as her.”

Hongjoong reaches out so he can boop Seonghwa’s nose. “You’d better stick with it, then,” he says. “No bunny will give back their love once they’ve pledged it.”

“I have more loyalty than a bunny, I promise.”

Hongjoong smiles. “Okay, then. I believe you.”

Seonghwa smiles with him. “Can I call you my bunny, then?”

Hongjoong tilts his head.

“Since you love them as much as I love you?” Seonghwa elaborates.

Hongjoong boops his nose again.

When Seonghwa gets back to Yeosang’s place he’s half dead, yawning so much that it’s almost constant. He knocks on Yeosang’s door but doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before he opens it. Yeosang is standing at the kitchen counter, hands on the marble, and doesn’t seem to be doing anything. When Seonghwa enters, his head turns.

“Hey,” says Seonghwa, trying to toe off his shoes. “I’m sorry I’m so late. Hongjoong was in a lot of pain and I didn’t want to leave him. Did you have a good day?”

“It was okay,” says Yeosang, watching as Seonghwa finally gets his shoes off and collapses onto the couch. His eyes close as he remains in an upright position.

“Aren’t you going to bed?” Yeosang asks.

“Mm,” says Seonghwa, but he doesn’t move. Yeosang sighs.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll help you. Put your arm around my shoulder.” Seonghwa does, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He falls out of Yeosang’s hold onto the bed and stretches his arms out wide like a starfish. “Thanks,” he says. “You’re the best.” In the next second, he’s asleep.

Yeosang goes back to the living room.

The next morning, Yeosang goes to the kitchen to see Seonghwa sluggishly pouring coffee into a mug. It’s one that he’d gotten for Yeosang when they were at a festival a month ago. He puts the drink to his mouth and doesn’t say anything as Yeosang comes closer. When he’s chugged the (hopefully not burning-hot) coffee, he puts the mug back on the counter.

“What are your plans for today?” Yeosang asks quietly.

“Back to the hospital,” Seonghwa says with his eyes still closed. He’s slumped against the counter.

“Don’t you have to go into work?”

“I can do it remotely.”

Yeosang runs his hand through his hair. “Hyung, can we talk?” he asks.

“’Bout what?” asks Seonghwa, slumped over on his elbows. He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

“About Hongjoong-ssi,” says Yeosang.

“He’s doing okay,” says Seonghwa automatically. “The doctor says he just needs a few more days before he can be discharged.”

“That’s good,” says Yeosang. “But I kind of...that’s not all that I meant.”

Seonghwa finally opens his eyes. “What is it, then?”

Yeosang isn’t sure where to start, so he’s silent for a few seconds. Eventually, he decides that being direct is the best way. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

Seonghwa blinks. “What? I’m with you.”

“I know. So do you have feelings for him?”

Seonghwa’s forehead creases. “I did. In the past.”

“Can you answer the question, please?” Yeosang asks. His eyes are sad.

“I do care about him,” says Seonghwa carefully. “But I don’t fantasize about us being together or anything.”

“I think we should break up.”

Seonghwa blinks. Several times, in fact. “What?” he asks. Yeosang repeats the statement. “So—you’re breaking up with me?” Seonghwa asks for verification.

“Yes. I don’t think you ever got over him. What chance do I have if I stay with you? I don’t want to waste my time with someone who’s clearly taken,” says Yeosang, not unkindly.

Seonghwa straightens. “Sangie, he and I are over. Everything ended before you and I got together. He made it clear that he would never get back with me.”

“That doesn’t mean it will work out between us, though,” says Yeosang quietly.

Seonghwa steps forward. Yeosang doesn’t step back, but there’s something glossy and wrong in his eyes. “Yeosangs,” says Seonghwa. “Can’t you give us another chance? I have a lot of fun with you.”

“I have a lot of fun with you too,” says Yeosang automatically. “But being boyfriends isn’t all about fun.”

“But…” Seonghwa can’t find a way to finish that sentence.

Yeosang sighs. It sounds more like an exhale. He fishes into his pocket and holds out his hand, something silver in his palm. It takes Seonghwa a second to realize that it’s the key to his apartment.

“I understand,” Yeosang says. “Even though you never cheated on me, your heart knew what it wanted. And it’s not me.”

Seonghwa takes his free hand. “Please. I really like you.”

“Not like you like him.”

It’s still not really processing, but Seonghwa automatically reaches for his pocket. He takes out the key to Yeosang’s apartment and gives it back. “I—I’m sorry,” he says.

Yeosang smiles, small. “I’m sorry too.”

“I never wanted it to be this way.”

“I know.”

They look at each other for a good ten seconds before Seonghwa realizes that there won’t be any more conversation. “Then…” he says. “I’ll leave.” Yeosang nods. Seonghwa is halfway to the door before Yeosang speaks again.

“Hyung.”

Seonghwa turns back around, expression questioning.

“I think he never got over you either,” says Yeosang. Then he smiles, as if to give Seonghwa permission to leave.

Seonghwa leaves.

He doesn’t have any flashbacks.

It’s a few weeks later when San gives Seonghwa a key to Hongjoong’s apartment and asks him to pick up some drawings Hongjoong did for Jongho.

“Hongjoong-hyung made them for Jongie but he forgot to give them to Jongie but Jongie really wants to see them because he’s sick and he knows the drawings will cheer him up because Hongjoongie-hyung’s drawings always cheer people up but because Jongho is sick he can’t pick them up from Hongjoong-hyung’s himself and Hongjoong-hyung is in an art class but I happen to have a key to Hongjoong-hyung’s apartment after that thing with the penguin, don’t ask, but I can’t give the drawings to Jongie myself because I need to get back to Yunho because he’s super pissed at me and if I’m going to be able to make it up to him for forgetting our sexniversary then I need to get back to him right the fuck now so I’m giving you this key, can you please get the drawings and give them to Jongie?” San asks-slash-rambles. “Hongjoong-hyung will come to yours later to get the key back, okay?”

He’s gone before Seonghwa can speak, so that’s that.

Seonghwa lets himself into Hongjoong’s apartment (once Yunho texts him the address, because of course San forgot) and spends a few minutes rummaging around Hongjoong’s desk before he finds the folder of sketches. He straightens up, promising himself that he won’t look at them, before he stops short in front of Hongjoong’s laptop, which is open to his emails. He never did set a timer for his screensaver.

Order Delivered, says the first email. Hard Side Expandable Luggage Set.

Your One-Way Korean Air Ticket Is Confirmed, says the second.

[no subject], says the third. Dear son, We’re happy you’re moving back home...

Seonghwa closes the laptop and leaves.

He gets home just as Hongjoong arrives on his floor. “Hongjoong,” he says sharply. Hongjoong looks up, startled at the ambush. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Um. San said I should get my key back from you?” Hongjoong says, approaching warily.

“Not that,” says Seonghwa impatiently. “I saw your laptop.”

Hongjoong looks uncertain. “Okay?”

Seonghwa makes a decision. “We’re settling this once and for all,” he says. He unlocks the door and tugs Hongjoong into his apartment by his wrist. Hongjoong makes a noise of surprise. Seonghwa strides across the apartment and points at the couch insistently until Hongjoong sits down.

“What are you trying to pull on me?” Seonghwa asks as soon as Hongjoong is sitting.

Hongjoong blinks. “What?”

Seonghwa makes an irritated exhale. “What are you trying to do?”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about you,” says Seonghwa. “You’re leaving. You just came to Seoul a few months ago and now you’re leaving again. It doesn’t make sense.”

Hongjoong shifts. He doesn’t ask how Seonghwa knows. “I just don’t think Seoul’s right for me,” he mumbles.

“Why not?”

“It’s just. I don’t feel...comfortable.”

“Why not?”

Hongjoong looks to the side. “I don’t—it’s my choice. Why are you so angry?”

“Because I’ve been through this before!”

Hongjoong looks back up at him, eyebrows so furrowed that they’re almost touching. “What?”

Seonghwa runs his hands through his hair and makes a noise of frustration. “What do you mean, ‘what?’ Who said you get to leave me again?”

Hongjoong blinks. “How is it leaving? I’m just moving.” Seonghwa looks at him with something that is not quite, but almost, a glare. “Why does it matter?” Hongjoong asks. “You don’t even like me.”

Seonghwa’s face twists into something. “It’s not about that. It’s about you. Why do you keep turning your back on people?”

“I don’t turn my back on people!” Hongjoong insists, finally frustrated. “I just don’t want to live here anymore. Do you know Yeosang used to be so nervous around me? And I can tell you don’t want me here, ever since I arrived. I don’t want to live with that kind of thing hanging over me.”

“So what, you’re just backing out again?”

“I just want what’s best for both of us,” says Hongjoong. “Don’t you remember how hard it was the first time? How terrible it was for both of us when we broke up and we were still living in the same place? Why wouldn’t you want it to be better, with us no longer living in the same city?”

“It didn’t stop you before.”

Hongjoong looks down at his knees. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be that way.”

“Then why would you do it?” Seonghwa demands. “I thought we were so happy, and then one day you just—bam. ‘I don’t love you anymore.’ Isn’t that the worst way you could have handled that, Hongjoong?”

“I’m sorry,” says Hongjoong pathetically. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t fix it,” says Seonghwa. “It doesn’t bring back all the time I lost because of you. Do you know how long it took me to come to terms with it? Sometimes at night I still remember how much it hurt when you said that to me.”

Hongjoong blinks away the tears that are forming. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t be with you anymore.”

“So you left, just like that?” Seonghwa presses. “You broke my heart and just left the pieces on the floor?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Hongjoong says, his voice trembling.

“So what happened, Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asks insistently. “Was that it? After those six years together, after all those times you made me tea and hugged me when I was scared and let me make love to you, that was it? Did you really just lose interest in me that fast? Was that really what made you leave me, in the end?”

“It was your mom.”

Seonghwa stares at him. “What?”

Hongjoong stares down at his knees. “She said I had to leave. Or she’d disown you.”

“What are you saying, she threatened you? Or—threatened me?” Seonghwa asks.

Hongjoong is silent. He nods.

“I don’t believe you.” Seonghwa’s eyes are a bit too bright.

Hongjoong is quiet. “Well,” he says eventually, “I don’t blame you. But all I can say is what happened.”

“How do you expect me to believe you when you broke the most important promise you ever made to me?” Seonghwa asks.

Hongjoong thinks the tears are really going to start falling soon. “I said I don’t expect you to believe me. I’m just telling you what I know.”

“So what, we were together for six years, my mom said something to you, and you just ran off?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Hongjoong protests again, weakly.

“Okay, Hongjoong,” says Seonghwa, voice harsh like sandpaper. “Why don’t you walk me through what really happened.”

So Hongjoong does.

Hongjoong is standing outside his front door, watering the flowers Seonghwa gave him on their sixth anniversary. They’ve grown so pink these last few days.

A dog barks suddenly, and as he looks up at the sound, he meets the unexpected sight of Ms. Park walking toward him. He straightens in surprise, turning off his hose.

Ms. Park steps in front of him, and Hongjoong remembers to bow. “Hello, Ms. Park.”

Ms. Park doesn’t respond. Hongjoong brushes his hand down his gardening apron and sets his hose down. “What can I do for you?”

Ms. Park doesn’t beat around the bush. “I know that you and my son are seeing each other,” she says.

Hongjoong feels his cheeks grow warm. “Oh. Did he tell you?”

“No. One of my men did.”

Hongjoong chews the inside of his cheek. When Ms. Park doesn’t continue, he says, “I admit that we’re very...close.”

“How close?”

Hongjoong fidgets. “We like each other as friends. And...as more than friends.”

“Has he told you he loves you?”

Hongjoong clears his throat. “Yes.”

Ms. Park’s eyes become strange, then determined. “I want you to leave him.”

Hongjoong’s eyes spring wide. “What?”

“Get away. Do not come back to him. You are not worth his time.”

Hongjoong clears his throat again. “Ms. Park, I know you might not have a high opinion of me, but I can change. For him, I’m willing to do it. If you give me a chance, I know I can earn your respect.”

“I am not offering you a chance,” Ms. Park says flatly. “I’m telling you to leave.”

“Ma’am, with respect, Seonghwa and I are in love.”

“I cannot have a bisexual son,” says Ms. Park, clear. “If you don’t leave him, I will never acknowledge him as my child again.”

Hongjoong swallows. “I know you don’t like the way he is, but isn’t that too harsh? Even if he’s like this, he’s still your son,” he says softly.

“It’s unnatural. If you go away, maybe he can be normal again and start a family like he should.”

“Please, I’m begging you to reconsider,” Hongjoong pleads. “I just want your son’s happiness.”

Ms. Park cuts him off as he starts another sentence. “If you really love him, leave him alone,” she says. “This is my order to you. I will give you three days to move out of his home.” She turns around and walks off, her designer handbag on her arm and her heels clicking against the stone ground. She gets into a waiting car and leaves.

Hongjoong sits down on the dirt near his plants and sobs.

Seonghwa stares at him, eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to fight with her,” says Hongjoong. “I know you two had problems, but she was still your mom.”

“It’s because she was my mom that I know she wouldn’t do that. Even she wouldn’t take it that far.”

Hongjoong remembers a time when Seonghwa would have believed him.

“I don’t know what to say to make you believe me,” he says. “If you still want to hate me, that’s fine. I’m used to it by now.”

“It doesn’t matter if you hate me or not,” says Seonghwa tightly. “It matters that you’re lying.”

Hongjoong runs his hands through his hair and tugs at his shirt in his frustration, his brain resisting any attempts at coherent speech.

Seonghwa stares.

It takes Hongjoong ten full seconds of silence to realize what’s happened. When he was moving, his shirt shifted and his necklace fell out from underneath. Seonghwa can see it.

Well, this day is just getting better and better.

“Why did you keep it?” Seonghwa asks finally.

Hongjoong should make the connection, but he doesn’t. “What?”

“The necklace. Why’d you keep it?”

Okay, this is enough. Hongjoong stands up in a gust of frustration. “Because I still loved you! You can hate me all you want, but the necklace is my business. I’m not throwing it away.”

Seonghwa is silent, and for a moment Hongjoong thinks it’s because he still doesn’t understand why Hongjoong kept the necklace. Then he realizes.

He looks away.

It feels like forever until Seonghwa finally speaks. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing,” says Hongjoong. “Just tell me what you want me to say and then we can finally finish whatever it is that’s still between us.”

Seonghwa steps forward and turns Hongjoong’s head. “Hongjoong,” he says. “Look at me.” Hongjoong does. “You’re saying that when you broke up with me, you still loved me?” Hongjoong doesn’t say anything. “So you lied,” says Seonghwa.

Hongjoong is crying.

Seonghwa leans back. “I broke up with everyone I ever went out with after you. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because they weren’t you.” His tone is final.

Hongjoong leaves.

It’s shaped like a lantern. The necklace.

Why does he have a lantern necklace? Seonghwa got it for him. Because a lantern was what he was holding the first time Seonghwa told him he loved him.

Hongjoong stands with the lantern, face shining with joy, looking out over the park with his eyes glittering. He’s beautiful.

“Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong turns toward Seonghwa, grinning, hair all messed up and eyes bright.

Seonghwa swallows. “I love you.”

Hongjoong feels his mouth open a little bit. He’s been through a lot in his life—death, relocation, poverty—but somehow, out of all life’s events, this is the one for which he was least prepared.

He doesn’t realize he hasn’t said anything until Seonghwa’s face takes on a note of insecurity.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says tentatively. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I do,” Hongjoong says hurriedly. “I do love you, Seonghwa. Christ, I love you so much.” He surges forward and presses their mouths together before quickly pulling away and running the back of his hand across his eyes, sniffing. “Sorry. Sorry,” he says. “I don’t know why I’m—just—sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seonghwa whispers, his hand cupping the side of Hongjoong’s jaw as he kisses him again.

They hug, the lantern illuminating them from where Hongjoong still clutches it with one hand. “I’m happy, Joongie,” Seonghwa whispers against his neck. “I’m so fucking happy.”

“Me too,” Hongjoong whispers back. “Don’t let me go.”

“That’s my line.”

Hongjoong smiles. Him? Let Seonghwa go?

“Never.”

Seonghwa feels like death by the time he shows up at his brother’s door. Within five minutes, Hansol has handed him some strawberry milk, sat him down on the couch, and is listening to him rant. When Seonghwa’s finally done with the recap, he slumps down into the couch and waits for his brother to pass his inevitable judgment.

Hansol doesn’t mince words. “I think you know what should happen now,” he says. “You were so devastated when he broke up with you. Dad and I were really worried about you, you know? You stopped eating and you didn’t wear anything but sweatpants for weeks.”

“I know that,” says Seonghwa petulantly.

“Seonghwa, you really just have to listen to your emotions. Forget that you’re mad at him. Forget that he hurt you, that you don’t agree with the decision he made. When you close your eyes, do you think of him?”

Seonghwa is silent.

“Can you really say that in these past few months your heart never beat faster when he was close to you?” his brother asks.

“Doesn’t matter what my stupid heart does,” Seonghwa grumbles quietly.

“Is that what you think?”

“I didn’t come here to know what I think. What do you think?”

“I think,” says his brother, “that you never really fell out of love with him.”

Seonghwa is silent again.

“Are you sure you don’t believe him?” Hansol prods. “You know what Mom was like.”

“I know,” says Seonghwa. “But this? You really think she would’ve just—thrown me away like that?”

Hansol looks like he regrets having to say whatever’s going to come out of his mouth. “I think she would’ve,” he says. “I loved her, Hwa—honestly, I did—but I was never under any illusions about her. She was always different from us.”

“But I’m her son,” says Seonghwa, and his voice cracks just a little bit. “She should’ve known better.”

“She should’ve,” Hansol agrees. “But there’s no use lying to ourselves.”

Seonghwa looks up at him. “But how do I know he’s telling the truth, hyung? He was always so—so innocent, so shy. Sometimes he turned into a blushing mess just because I looked at him. And then...when he broke up with me, he looked like he didn’t even care. What if he really did fall out of love with me?”

“If he fell out of love with you, why would he still wear your necklace?”

Seonghwa looks down again.

“No matter what,” says his brother, “he has no reason to lie to you now. It’s up to you to decide what to do with that. But if I can offer you just a little advice, I think this might be one situation where it’s more important to listen to the future than the past.”

When Seonghwa doesn’t say anything, Hansol tugs him closer, and Seonghwa rests his head on his shoulder.

“And no matter what,” says Hansol, “after everything, I’ll always love you, little brother.”

A week later, Seonghwa returns to his apartment and automatically plops down at his kitchen table. He’s three bowls through some cereal that tastes like cardboard (not that he’s intimately acquainted with that taste) before he notices what’s lying on the wood just a foot away.

It’s a package covered in brown paper and tied up with a string. Seonghwa picks it up and looks at it. There’s no name. He pulls at the string. When it falls off, there are two objects peering up at him. One is shiny. One is a sheet of paper.

He slowly reaches to pick up the paper, and a small note falls out—but his eye has already been caught by the large sheet.

It’s a sketch made on drawing paper. He reaches down and smooths it out to see his own face. It’s laughing and not looking up at him, but rather at his friends, who are also made alive by pencil lines. He knows immediately who’s drawn it. Hongjoong hasn’t included his own face among their group of friends.

Seonghwa turns to the shiny object. As he picks it up, a chain trails out of his hands. It’s a necklace. When he looks closer, he can see that the charm on the end is a bunny.

He picks up the note.

Seonghwa,

I have to leave soon. I’m sorry. Since you’re mad at me, I asked San to leave you this package so I wouldn’t have to see you in person. I hope you’ll forgive me. I’ll be thinking of you when I move back to Anyang. I won’t contact you unless you tell me I can.

You’ll probably have seen the necklace by now. I don’t expect you to keep it, but I had to let you know that I was always just in love with you as you were with me, even if you’re never able to believe that.

I guess that’s all I have to say. I hope you’re always happy, even after everything I’ve done. Please take care of yourself. You deserve it.

With all my love,

Hongjoong

Seonghwa’s throat is dry. He looks back at the sketch.

Hongjoong’s made him look so happy.

It’s love at first sight. At least, for Hongjoong it is. They’re in university, first year. Wooyoung made fast friends with Hongjoong in their first biology class together. He was always like that, thankfully for Hongjoong.

Hongjoong’s sitting at a lunch table, chewing and looking through his phone, when Wooyoung comes up to him. “Joonie-hyung!” he calls out as he bounces over and takes the seat across from him. “How are you doing? Why are you sitting alone? Oh, this is Park Seonghwa. We’re in the same department.”

Hongjoong looks up. Seonghwa bows. He’s good looking for sure, tall with a handsome face and attractive black hair—but that’s not what makes Hongjoong fall in love. He can’t describe it. There’s just something that slots into place.

Two weeks later, Seonghwa is pulling Hongjoong into his dorm room. Hongjoong stands there with his cheeks flushed while Seonghwa holds his hand. “I like you,” Seonghwa says earnestly, cradling Hongjoong’s cheek. Hongjoong leans into it. “As more than friends,” says Seonghwa. “Will you let me be your boyfriend?”

Twenty seconds later they’re kissing on the bed, Hongjoong lying underneath Seonghwa’s weight. It’s messy and probably not that elegant, but it’s so, so perfect. Two rounds in bed later, and they’re boyfriends.

(For a time, anyway.)

Hongjoong sits on the couch, one hand gripping a shirt absentmindedly and the other tracing over the graphite lines on the paper on his lap.

He drew Seonghwa so long ago. Well, he’s drawn him since they broke up, of course, but this drawing he did just a year after they got together. Seonghwa is smiling, his eyes wrinkled up so much that they’re half as small as normal. Hongjoong can’t remember what he was laughing at—maybe something Wooyoung said?—but it’s just as beautiful as he’d imagined.

He hasn’t looked at it in three years.

“Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong looks up, surprised, and feels his eyes widen when he sees who it is. “S-Seonghwa.”

“I knocked,” says Seonghwa. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything. His heart is thrumming like a radiator, and he doubts he could talk even if he wanted to.

Seonghwa bites his lip and closes the door behind him. “I want to talk to you, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong swallows. “I’m sorry about the letter. I wanted to explain myself. Don’t think about it too much.” Seonghwa steps forward. “You can just leave it as it is,” Hongjoong says quickly, before Seonghwa can say anything. “I’m leaving soon. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not mad at you, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa looks down at the shirt that Hongjoong had dropped on the floor when he stood up. There’re some boxes next to the couch and a pile of clothes on the cushion next to where he had been sitting. “I want to talk,” Seonghwa repeats.

“Please don’t,” says Hongjoong. “I don’t want to leave here with you being mad at me.”

“I’m not—”

“Can’t you just forget all this? I was okay with you forgetting me the first time,” Hongjoong lies. “I don’t want to cause you even more pain after everything I’ve done.”

“Hongjoong.” He says it definitively enough that Hongjoong finally stops talking. Seonghwa moves closer, until he’s only a step away from Hongjoong. Hongjoong swallows but doesn’t move back. Yet. “Why did you keep the necklace?” Seonghwa asks.

“Please stop trying to get me to give it back,” Hongjoong whispers.

“I’m not trying to do that.” Seonghwa pulls at his collar and tugs out the bunny necklace Hongjoong had given him. Hongjoong keeps looking at it after Seonghwa pulls it out, but he doesn’t say anything. “I don’t want you to get rid of it, either,” Seonghwa adds. “It’s the last thing I want, actually.”

Hongjoong looks down. “I know you always thought that I...threw you away, that day. But please believe me when I say I didn’t want to.”

“I don’t think that anymore,” says Seonghwa. “It was just hard to know that, when you lied to me.”

Hongjoong feels a tear slip down his cheek. Seonghwa brushes it away gently.

“I was so hurt, so angry at you, but I never forgot you,” says Seonghwa. “Yeosang could tell. That I still love you. That’s why he left me.”

That seems to make Hongjoong very unhappy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to break up with him—”

“You can stop apologizing. I understand, now.” Hongjoong doesn’t say anything. Seonghwa’s eyes search his so earnestly. “What are you thinking?” he asks. “I can’t read your mind, Hongjoongie.”

“I—I don’t—don’t you hate me?” Hongjoong asks quietly.

Seonghwa’s eyes soften. “No. Even when you came to Seoul a few months ago and I always acted so cold to you, I was happy you were back. I ignored you, but I was just lying to myself when I told myself I didn’t care about you anymore. I was so jealous of Mingi and so relieved when you stopped going out with him.”

Hongjoong looks equal parts anxious and hopeful.

Seonghwa takes his hand. “Did you know...before you left, I was going to propose to you.”

Hongjoong swallows. “I would have said yes,” he says softly.

“Don’t leave, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong looks at him, heart pounding.

“Stay,” says Seonghwa.

“What...what about us?” Hongjoong whispers.

“Whatever you want,” says Seonghwa. “We can be whatever you want, Bunny. Just say the word and I’ll listen to you.”

“I want…” Hongjoong grips his fingers tighter. “I want us to be together again.”

“Then we’re together,” says Seonghwa immediately. He rests their foreheads together. “We’re together.”

“It can’t be that easy,” says Hongjoong, but it comes out more as a question, desperate.

“It is,” Seonghwa insists. “If you’re telling the truth about everything, it is.”

“I am,” says Hongjoong automatically. “I am. I swear, Seonghwa, I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Not about your mom. I didn’t make up a word.”

“I know,” says Seonghwa. “I believe you. I was just so hurt, but—in all those years, you never told a lie that really mattered. And I know you couldn’t have just fallen out of love with me all at once. I don’t know why I ever believed you would.”

“Because I was a dick to you,” says Hongjoong, sniffling.

“Even if you were...” Seonghwa trails off and straightens. “Even if you were, even if I don’t agree with the choice you made, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve thought about you every single day for nine years.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” Hongjoong whispers. “Every day.”

“I want to keep thinking about you,” says Seonghwa. “If you let me. I mean, even if you don’t, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself, but...I want your permission.”

The tears pool at Hongjoong’s waterlines, jostling one another like tourists at a beach. “Did you ever regret me?” he asks.

“How could I ever regret you?” Seonghwa asks. “You’re my bunny, after all.”

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything, too overwhelmed by emotion, and Seonghwa’s face takes on a note of insecurity.

“You are my bunny, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong blurts out. “Yes, yes, yes.” His heart is a dove, a cliché, a balloon.

He doesn’t know how to describe Seonghwa’s smile. He’s not sure he even wants to. He doesn’t want to limit it with words.

So slowly, Seonghwa presses their lips together.

Hongjoong hasn’t done this in three years, he realizes suddenly. It happens every night in his dreams, the ghost of Seonghwa’s lips against his, and as they kiss now, he wonders how he ever could have compared that to the real thing. It’s a small infinity before Seonghwa pulls back, smiling, his forehead pressed gently across Hongjoong’s as if he’ll dissolve if he can’t touch him. After what must be half a minute, he pulls back.

“I drew you,” says Hongjoong. “Every week for three years.”

That night, they make love for the first time in three years and wake up the next morning to the sunlight spilling in.

One Month Later

Seonghwa comes into the apartment, hanging his key up on the hook next to the door as he does. “Hi, baby,” he says as he takes off his shoes. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” says Hongjoong, not looking up from where he’s inspecting the rice cooking on the stove. “How are you?”

“Also good.” Seonghwa leans forward to give Hongjoong a peck on the cheek. “By the way, Yeosang wanted to know if we wanted to go on a double date with him and Jongho this weekend.”

“Sounds good,” says Hongjoong. “We can go to that new restaurant down the street. I know Jongho wanted to try it.”

“Hey, turn the heat off for a second.”

Hongjoong looks up, questioning. “What? Wh—oh.”

Seonghwa’s holding a carrier in one hand—and, in the other, a bunny.

Seonghwa smiles. “Surprise.”

Hongjoong turns the stove off carefully as he stares at the bunny. “She—she’s for me?” he asks, just to make sure.

Seonghwa smiles. “Of course she’s for you,” he says. “A bunny for a bunny.” He holds out the rabbit and Hongjoong takes her so carefully, his hands shaking a little with how happy he is. The bunny looks up at him, little nose twitching. He can feel Seonghwa watching them out of the corner of his eye as he puts the carrier down.

“Oh,” Hongjoong says, tiny. He lifts the bunny up just a little bit, peering down at her soft dark eyes and sleek black coat. “She’s...she’s...”

“Beautiful?” Seonghwa asks, settling behind Hongjoong so he can wrap his arms around him gently.

Hongjoong swallows. “Yeah.”

Seonghwa nestles into his neck. “Are you gonna name her ‘Hongjoong?’”

Hongjoong lifts the bunny up a little bit more, peering into her eyes. She blinks at him, head tilting just the tiniest bit.

“I’m naming her ‘Toothless,’” says Hongjoong.

Seonghwa holds him closer. They stand there for a few more seconds, Hongjoong cradling the bunny to his chest, before he glances over his shoulder. “Will you help me raise her?”

“Of course I will,” says Seonghwa. “Droppings and all.”

Hongjoong wrinkles his nose. “Did you have to mention droppings?”

Seonghwa laughs a little. “I’m just saying, I’ll be here for all of it.”

Hongjoong tilts his head to the side. “Even the icky stuff?”

Seonghwa smiles and, so slowly, reaches out to boop his nose.

“As long as it’s you, Bunny.”