Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

–/–

Suho-ya. I’m sorry for not being able to visit all that often anymore. Exams are coming up, and I’ve been going to the hagwon again. I told my friends more stories about you. They want to meet you soon. I’m not sure how you’d feel about meeting them like this, so I’ll let you get your bearings first, then I’ll introduce you to them. 

You’ve been feeling more distant lately.

I feel scared of being distant from you. I wrote this sitting next to you today. Sometimes I feel this way, then when I sit by your bedside, it feels awkward. I want to hear your voice again. 

–/– (three weeks later)

Suho-ya.

It’s been a while. I’ve lost track of the number of texts I’ve sent you. 

I don’t want to count anymore. How long you’ve been asleep… But I can’t help it. Halmeoni said that I should focus on my final exams and that you won’t feel bad. I’m sorry for not visiting. I hope you aren’t too lonely.

I’m sorry. I’ll come back after exams are over. I’ll bring snacks.

Sorry.

It begins with a twitch of his hand. Neither Halmeoni nor Sieun are present to witness it, only a nurse named Kim Jiyong. 

“Hello!” she’d greeted him cordially, as she usually did with all her patients, comatose or not. She was the on-duty nurse for the night, and was only doing her regular rounds—checking on his vitals and re-checking on his oxygen and drips. The first twitch goes unnoticed. 

“Well, you seem to be all…”

She pauses. Perhaps a trick of the eye, she thinks at first. She then immediately crouches by his left hand, just in case, and watches like a hawk. Her voice holds a noticeable tremor as she asks, “Patient Ahn Suho, can you hear me? Can you try to move your fingers if you do?”

Another feeble twitch. She gasps. “Patient Ahn Suho! You—!” she scrambles out the door, “D-Doctor! Call the—the doctor! Nurse!”

After that, it takes a while for him to come around. The most frustrating part of the entire ordeal was being conscious and unable to move around or respond to people around him. He didn’t have the strength to move his fingers again when Halmeoni eventually came around. He had drifted in and out of consciousness, distant voices and sounds fading in and out, out and in. 

He manages a brief twitch on one of the doctor’s visits as he calls out to him, faint and garbled. He thinks of being under the sea, caught in a shipwreck, limbs boundless as people try to pull him out repeatedly as he drowns.

There’s a particular set of feet, a deep-set voice that he tries to listen for, to no avail. He’s too weak and too disoriented to figure out who he’s looking for, or why. His mind searches desperately for a familiar comfort. He drifts away again, the distant footsteps fading out with him into that deep darkness.

“Suho-ya,” a throaty, feeble voice calls out for him. 

He feels warmth radiating from his side. He wants to smile. He can’t. “The doctors said that it will take time for you to open your eyes. Halmeoni is so happy.” There’s some shuffling. “I brought you snacks today as well, in case you decide to wake up. You must be hungry. I’m here.” He distantly registers a touch to his hand. Halmeoni grips it with a sturdiness that defies her old age, as if trying to transfer strength through to him.

He still looks out for that voice, that set of footsteps, through his waking moments. He still isn’t able to figure out who he’s looking for, or why he’s in this state. He feels like he’s in a long dream. He wants Halmeoni’s snacks.

The footsteps never come.

The next time Halmeoni comes to hold his hand, he returns her grip with slow, halted movements. He hears a gasp, and then feels her tears fall wetly on his hand as she brings it up to plant an affectionate kiss. He tries to tighten and flex his fingers, but he can’t seem to move them all that much. He wants Halmeoni to know he’s here, he’s sorry, he wishes he could embrace her. 

He hopes that the feeble twitch of his fingers conveys the sudden avalanche of emotions rolling down his body. He soon fades out again.

Suho opens his eyes on a random day, at a random time. His consciousness fades back in as the nurse putters around his bedside. He listens with closed eyes to her faint humming as she tinkers with his machines, and then seemingly picks up a metal apparatus and walks out. He remains in a dreamy, lucid state for a while, listening to his own breathing through the ventilator mask. He uses the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing as an anchor, slowly coming to—and his first thought is—am I in heaven?

It’s blindingly bright. He can’t see a thing in front of him. He tightly shuts his eyes again and manages a weak groan. His throat hurts, his eyes hurt—in fact, his entire body seems to be screaming in pain. He feels like he’s been buried under a thick and heavy seabed and is slowly and painstakingly trying to crawl his way up and out.

He tries to blink open his eyes again and manages to orient his vision, spots and little rods moving around him.

He takes in his surroundings. Hospital.

His eyes sweep around the room. Daytime. 

His vision is so blurry, and everything looks like it’s submerged underwater. He tries to lift his hand to block the raging sunlight assaulting his eyes, but he can’t. He feels like he’s been tied down.

The headache suddenly hits him like a truck. He squeezes his eyes shut again and tries to will it away. His body protests his wakefulness once more, but he resists as much as possible. He doesn’t want to keep falling back asleep, but he does—and it happens almost immediately. As if he’s under the current of a roiling sea, and all he can do is give in to its powerful pull. 

He does, and hopes groggily that the next time he wakes, he…

And… 

“Halmeoni.”—is what he tries to say. He can’t seem to move his mouth. Halmeoni is looking out the window, almost forlornly, as if waiting for somebody. It’s nighttime now. He’s unsure if it’s the same day. He watches her in begrudging silence, waiting for her to notice her grandson’s blooming face and gaze. Meanwhile, he takes in that she’s changed: she looks older, frailer than he remembers. 

His heart skips a beat. He feels scared, all of a sudden. He feels like he’s still dreaming, and has landed in a parallel universe. His body doesn’t feel like his own.

He tries to tap his pulse oximeter against the railing of the bed, but even getting his fingers to twitch is a monumental effort. He feels frustration overcome his entire being. Why is he so weak? Is it the meds? Why can’t he move? Why does Halmeoni look so…? 

Amidst his torrent of confused questions, and glaring a hole into his own hand, he sees Halmeoni turn around in his peripheral vision, and he slowly moves his gaze back to her. 

She meets his eyes and stops in her tracks. He sees her face twist through all sorts of expressions.

Ah, why can’t I... why can’t I smile…

Halmeoni.

“S-Suho-ya… You…” she gasps as she waddles her way to his bedside, her balance almost failing her. She holds onto the bedside table with a thud, and her other hand comes up to caress his cheeks, never once breaking eye contact with him. “You’re awake. My little one. You’re awake. Oh, I…”

He lies in helpless silence as he watches the sobs wrack through her body. 

He only manages a watery half-smile, in the end. She’s crying too hard to notice it.

“Patient Ahn Suho! Good evening.” Doctor Kang settles on a chair beside his bed. “We’re all so overjoyed that you’re awake. I want to call it nothing short of miraculous, considering the amount of internal bleeding and brain damage you’ve suffered.” 

The doctor pauses to pat him on his forearm, eyes shining.

“You’ll find it difficult to move your limbs around for a little while. We’ll help you with that. We’ll help you regain your speech as well, one step at a time. It’s important that you’re patient through your recovery, though I know very well how frustrating it may be for you.”

Suho nods feebly. You have no idea, doc. 

He wants to jump out of bed, stretch his limbs and give Halmeoni a big hug. But even nodding his head causes a bone-deep ache to settle into his neck, and his vision gets spotty again.

“Patient Suho, do you know how long you’ve been asleep?”

He pauses. Halmeoni didn’t tell him yet. He couldn’t ask, and it was the last thing on her mind. He had just been held by her yesterday—he thinks it was yesterday—and then he was pulled under by the roiling currents again. He finds those sudden spells of unconsciousness the most frustrating.

He shakes his head, and tries for a, “No.”

It comes out garbled and distorted, and a lot weaker than he had imagined it would sound. He sighs and licks his parched lips.

Doctor Kang seems to hesitate, looking to his Halmeoni for confirmation, before breaking the news to him.

“It’s been a year and nine months.”

Suho stares blankly back at him.

He continues, “Nurse Jiyong has told me she’s gone through the checklist of questions. You can’t quite remember the events leading up to your accident and subsequent hospitalization, but you can remember your name, the fact that you were in high school, the name of your high school, your grandmother’s name, as well as the year that you were hospitalized. That’s excellent—it means your amnesia isn’t as serious as we imagined. You might recover memories in the coming days or weeks, and it’s imperative that you are patient with yourself when some details are difficult to recover, or if you can't recover them at all. There's no way to tell for certain in these cases.”

He vaguely registers the doctor’s words, but his first sentence rings in his head over and over again.

A year and nine months. 

Almost two years.

What?

Panic surges through him. Panic and frustration, at the blankness of everything. He figured it had been a while, considering how much older Halmeoni looks, somewhere in the back of his mind. Suho suddenly feels tears of frustration welling in his eyes. He doesn’t even know why, quite yet. Everything is too disorienting, confusing, and feels like a fever dream. He looks at the doctor with those teary eyes, trying to blink them back, pulse frantically picking up on the monitor. The doctor stops short of his next sentence and purses his lips in empathy, patting his forearm again. “Let’s pause here for now.” 

Doctor Kang looks at Halmeoni, who’s sitting on his other side. “I’ll leave you two to it.” 

The doctor exits after murmuring brief instructions to the nurses.

When they’re left alone after a few minutes, Halmeoni reaches for his hand.

“Why?” He manages a garbled slur. It comes out as a barely recognizable croak. His throat is all closed up.

“Suho-ya…”

He sees Halmeoni’s hand, holding a handkerchief, moving up to wipe his cheeks softly. Oh. The tears had fallen down. He hadn’t noticed. 

He hears the tides in the distance and whimpers in frustration. Not again. 

This time, he dreams. 

He dreams of the wind being knocked out of him, and he falls, and falls. He lands on his face and tastes bitter rubber and iron against his mouth, feeling heavy and weightless at the same time. As his ribs expand, and as the pain spreads through his aching limbs, he’s suddenly being yanked out by an overwhelming force—and he sees endlessly blue-yellow skies as his bleary vision accommodates, rays of blurry glimmering light peak through soft, shifting clouds. He hears a voice whisper by his ear, in a velvety soft timbre, deep and rich—comforting, indolent, whole. His heart stutters and all his feelings rush through him in waves upon tidal waves.

“Suho-ya,” the voice says. 

“Suho-ya.”

He sinks, and doesn’t resist this time.

His first clear words are this: “Halmeoni, I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

He keeps having the same dream, of endlessly blue skies, yellow rays of sunlight peeking through, and a distant voice that calls for him. It makes him feel warm inside. It makes him want to wake up. 

At the end of his first speech therapy session, he’s asked to recollect his high school days. He thinks of his favorite pink arm pillow, a flying baseball bat, a fallen pencil case, and two watery eyes looking up at him. He lets a smile slowly creep onto his tired face. 

The speech therapist seems satisfied enough with just his internal recollection, and begins to wrap things up. 

“Yeon Sieun.” he slurs. 

The therapist pauses and smiles indulgently at him. “Who is that? A friend?”

Suho nods. Friend.

She sits back down. “Tell me more about him.”

It’s been three days since Ahn Suho opened his eyes for the first time. In those three days, the only dreams he’s had are of falling and those blue skies, and Sieun’s voice. Yeon Sieun. His friend. His closest friend. Halmeoni had tentatively asked if he remembers him, to which he couldn't help but smile in response. How could I forget him? 

The smile had faded when he’d tried to recall what got him to this state, and how it could relate to Sieun. His mind hides the memories behind thick, impenetrable fog. He hopes he was just in a freak accident. He doesn't want to ask Halmeoni yet—he doesn't want to know what she knows, if she knows. He doesn't want to think of his other friends, either. 

His brain feels like it's been clouded in that thick fog even on a good day, and he has to fight to be able to form basic sentences. They come out slurred, and sometimes the sounds he makes don't align with the thoughts he has in his brain. He has to focus really heavily to form his words. Still, he manages this:

“Halmeoni, don’t tell Sieun yet.”

Halmeoni, arranging his side table, pauses mid-movement. She furrows her brows. “Suho—”

Suho gulps and avoids her imploring gaze. “Not—like this.” He winces, feeling hopeless. The hopelessness frustrates him to no end. He doesn't want Yeon Sieun to see him stutter and slur through his sentences, he doesn't want him to see his shaky hands, his weak and frail body. He's not even sure why. 

“Suho-ya,” Halmeoni drops her hands into her lap. Her gentle firmness makes him reluctantly meet her gaze again. “Do you know how much that sweet child has waited on you for the last two years?”

He winces again and looks away.

“He’s always been by your side. He never left.”

She pauses when she sees how discomfited he is, then, “I won’t force you. But Suho-ya, don’t take too long to see him again. I'm afraid it’ll hurt his heart.”

No, it’ll hurt his heart to see me like this.

No, it’ll hurt my heart to see him see me like this.

A part of him knows he’s avoiding his complicated feelings towards his best friend, too confused to think straight, overwhelmed by his long period of absence. He's avoiding the guilt of having slept for so long, the frustration of having been brought to this state, the confusion of having gaps in his memory that aren’t being filled no matter how much effort he makes. The dreams he has of that voice saying his name over and over, and most importantly: the deep-seated, bone-piercing sorrow that wracks through his body at not being able to protect, at being absent, at being weak and rendered helpless. His body has been frozen in this feeling state since he went into a coma, and has long since been stagnating in it.

He turns his gaze to stare out of the window.

He sees her little head shake and weary sigh. 

He ignores it.

Just a few more days.

‘A few more days’ turns into a week and a half. He sleeps through most of it. At first, he’s barely able to lift his arm up and move his fingers around. Through sheer force of will, after a week and a half of physiotherapy, he’s able to take his first steps on wobbly legs. 

He grits through tears of frustration as his body sets itself on fire, his weight being supported by two heavy-set rehab specialists as he tries to put one foot in front of the other. He’s gasping and panting the entire time. It burns all the way from his back down to the ends of his toes. Halmeoni finds him hitting his thighs in frustration later, and she holds him as he whimpers into her soft sweater. She caresses his back and shushes him, says it’ll be okay, hands him canned electrolyte juice.

“It’s okay. You’ll be able to see Sieunie soon.”

It only makes him want to cry harder. He bites down on it.

In his dreams, he continues to trace that familiar warmth. He dreams of gripping soft, pliant wrists that only half-heartedly try to break away before settling. He dreams of arms hesitantly twining around his waist, a soft weight against his back, of the wind whipping through his helmet. 

He dreams of blood-stained smiles and a pliant, beseeching gaze. Of hands hiding behind a back, of quiet and suffocating silence, of—

His dreams shift and warp. He's enveloped in an eerie darkness. He sees a boy in glasses, sneering down at him, he feels the suckerpunch, his legs being pulled out from under him. He feels the bile and nausea rise up in his throat, and it hurts—it hurts all over. Blood and guts splatter everywhere, and he’s writhing in it, helplessly. He cries out as he loses himself. 

He wakes up gasping and sweating, the machine by his side beeping urgently as his pulse skyrockets. His chest heaves in blinding pain. A nurse scurries around him.

He starts to remember, in little bits and pieces.

After a particularly grueling physiotherapy session, Doctor Kang sits in silence in front of him for a long time, re-examining his scans and test results. “Patient Ahn Suho,” he begins, then falters. He kneads the back of his neck as if to ease his own tension. “Your memories may be relatively intact, but being in a coma for two years often has severe consequences on both cognitive and motor abilities.” 

“I'm telling you this so that you’re able to set realistic goals for yourself, at least with physical rehabilitation. You’re doing well with speech therapy, but… There is very little chance for you to get back to your previous physical condition. It will be very difficult for you to live an athletic and physically rigorous lifestyle. In fact, I'd say even walking is an incredible feat, something to be proud of, and a testament to how fit you were before your coma, as well as your young age.” 

The doctor’s voice softens, “Please don't be too hard on yourself. The body just needs time.” 

The body needs time. Well, it had all the time in the world, he thinks bitterly. He feels like he was a slowly decaying corpse that somehow managed to crawl its way back to life. His sense of agency feels like it's been cruelly ripped away from him. 

He swallows around the lump in his throat and bites down on his frustration again.

Frustration comes to him easily these days. Halmeoni explains that his parents had ended up sending her enough financial support to get by monthly, and that the cost for his medical bills was covered by a friend’s parent, and at first he feels relief for his Halmeoni, but then the rage splinters his vision for a brief second.

Why? 

The frustration seeps into his speech therapy session, and whilst trying to heed the therapist’s instructions and failing miserably for the nth time, he mutters an impassioned, “Fuck!”

It’s the most resounding syllable he's said so far. 

The speech therapist, who'd had her back turned to him and was ready to leave, now slowly turns around. 

A nurse stifles a giggle into her hands.

The speech therapist—Doctor Park—tries to suppress a grin but fails, looking at him with twinkling eyes full of mirth.

Suho mirrors her with his own shit-eating grin.

A few days later, he asks to be put in a wheelchair. They seem reluctant to do so, but they comply after consulting with Doctor Kang. “I need some fresh air. I’ll suffocate and die here, seriously.” 

Later, the nurse remarks on the lovely romantic spring weather and the cherry blossom trees in bloom as she fusses around him on the wheelchair, and right before they wheel him out, he turns to Halmeoni and says with a smile, “Tell Sieun I’m here.”

Halmeoni pauses, then immediately reaches for her phone and shakily begins to press on the screen. The nurses smile knowingly at each other behind him. 

Sitting on his wheelchair in the front yard of the hospital, he observes as the cherry blossom trees sway gently in the breeze, watches the shifting clouds against a clear blue sky. He thinks, and remembers. He tries to remember the most important bits—being Yeon Sieun. 

He wonders how often Sieun had visited him, and if he spoke to him. He wants to know what Sieun's been up to—but he feels something strange twisting and stirring in his gut at the thought of leaving him alone for so long. Halmeoni told him that he visited regularly, didn't always sit by Suho’s side, instead would hover outside by his door. He’d only come inside when Halmeoni would enter, muttering a small, “I'm back,” every time. His heart flutters for no reason. Typical Yeon Sieun. 

Halmeoni tells him that he goes to a different school now, and that it's farther out from the hospital, but he still makes sure to visit whenever he can. He hasn't visited in two weeks because of his exams, but he's kept in touch with her, and that the last time he visited was right before Suho started waking up. That's all Suho knows. This information, coupled with his fragmented memories of the events that led to his coma, only make him feel a pit of anxiety. He wants to know everything, but he's a wounded animal. His body keeps failing him, and it makes him feel vulnerable, and unlike himself. It takes a great deal of effort to put up a strong front. Still, Suho musters up his courage for Sieun. 

He hopes Sieun will forgive him for hiding away for a little bit while he was preoccupied with exams. 

He still feels like the seventeen year old boy that he was two years ago. Time completely stopped for him, he realizes. He childishly hopes that he still has things in common with Sieun, then dismisses that thought. Even if he doesn’t, he’d still want to have him in his life. He wonders what Sieun looks like now. He feels a tug at his heart.

When he finally hears footsteps hurriedly padding against the soft grass, his heart begins to beat a storm in his chest. He senses his presence even without having to look at him, he realizes.

Suho turns his head, and his breath catches on an inhale.

Time suddenly slows down to a halt. 

Sieun-ssi. 

The gaze that haunts him in his sleep and his every waking hour is finally trained on him again, and it's as still heart-rendingly beautiful as it was years ago. Slowly, all his worrying and anxiety-ridden thoughts fade away into nothing but a soft, inexplicable hum of silence, as he looks into those eyes after two long, cold winters have passed. 

After relying on discordant memories, disjointed voices and the ghost of fleeting touches, the full impact of seeing Sieun in person hits him like a whirlwind, and his heart starts palpitating, and his palms start sweating, despite his efforts to keep his cool. He tries to memorize his face again.  

Suho exhales. 

“Have you been living well?” 

Yeon Sieun is smiling.

At Sieun’s friends’ insistence, the two of them move to a nearby bench, so that Sieun can sit next to him and catch up. Sieun wheels him out, and Suho feels... Awkward. He’s briefly curious about Sieun’s friends too, but they’ve made themselves scarce. It feels like a magnetic field called Yeon Sieun is suddenly repelling everything other than Ahn Suho. 

“Great timing eh, Sieun-ssi? Who would’ve thought I’d wake up right as you go on your exam hiatus.” Suho, despite his best efforts, slurs the end of his sentence, and winces. He can feel Sieun’s glare penetrate through the top of his head. From so close, it's almost as if he can feel Sieun's radiating body heat.

To his surprise, Sieun has his wheelchair come to a stop right in front of the bench, rather than next to it. He then goes to sit right in front of him, and Suho clears his throat a few times. From this angle, Suho gets to look straight at him, and examine his face. 

Sieun looks… Tired. Sleep deprived. His lines are softer. He’s gained a little weight, Suho observes. Good. He hopes he’s been eating well, at least. His eyes are as pretty as they’ve always been, even through the fatigue that lines them. He finds that he can’t stop staring, and is grateful for Sieun’s immense foresight. He greedily takes in every detail. Sieun stares back, just as focused, as if doing the same. Suho doesn't know how long they sit like this. Suho has so many questions, but suddenly, he doesn't feel the need to ask them right away, so he indulges in the silence, lets his eyes speak for him instead. 

Finally, having had his fill, Suho attempts a soft smile in his direction. Sieun automatically begins to smile back, which makes Suho’s heart stutter again. But then his eyes suddenly narrow.

Uh oh.

“When did you wake up?” 

“Just yesterday, promise.”

Sieun pins a flat look on him. “If Halmeoni says different—”

“Okay, fine, it’s been a week? Two weeks? I’m not good with time anymore. Sieun-ah—”

“I missed you.”

Suho’s words die in his throat. He feels parched all of a sudden. 

He stares into Sieun’s watery, almost disbelieving eyes, wracked with pain beyond measure, and he sees himself reflected in them. Alive, and whole.

“I missed you.” Sieun repeats, a slowly spreading blush taking over his face. He looks down at his hands and blinks back tears, voice cracking with sorrow, “Why didn’t you…”

Ah, I’ve been a fool, Suho thinks to himself, I’ve been such a fool.

He feels like reaching out and wiping away Sieun’s tears, so he looks away for a moment, and confesses, “When I woke up, only my body remembered you.” Sieun’s face snaps up. “I… I had some amount of memory loss. I still do. I looked out for you when I was regaining consciousness. Then, the shock set in. I didn’t know what to do. I needed to…” 

“Okay,” 

Suho looks back to see Sieun’s face soften as he sniffles a little bit. “Hm?”

“Okay. I get it.” 

A pause. 

Suho finally thinks, I really need a glass of water. And, since when does Yeon Sieun smile this much?

And, I missed him. 

Chapter Text

Halmeoni is happiest to see Sieun.

After watching the sunset together in companionable silence, and getting a few looks from the nurses to hurry it up, Sieun wheels Suho back to his private room. 

“Sieun-ah,” Halmeoni looks at Sieun so fondly, reaching for his hands from where she’s seated. She pulls him down next to her while the nurses help Suho get back onto the bed. From behind him, he hears, “I hope Sieunie can forgive this old lady. My grandson is too stubborn for his own good.” 

Suho sputters. 

“I wanted to call you immediately, believe me.” she continues, ignoring him, “But you’re here now. Look at him, isn’t he still so big and gangly despite it all?”

“Halmeoni,” Suho whines, finally facing them, pulling his blanket over his stomach. 

Sieun shoots him a brief look of amusement, something light and playful in his eyes. Suho’s heart is taxed from all the excessive cardio today. He's afraid he won’t be able to take it much longer. 

“It’s okay, Halmeoni,” Sieun says softly, hesitating for a second before reaching out to feebly adjust her sweater around her shoulder. It’s uncharacteristic of him. Suho clears his throat. 

Both of them turn to look at him.

“I don’t think I ever got to introduce you to each other.”

Halmeoni’s smile adopts a tinge of sadness. 

“Halmeoni, this is my closest friend, Yeon Sieun,” he gestures, puffing his chest. “He’s the one I kept telling you about. Smart cookie. Crazy about studying.” Sieun looks a little flustered. Suho keeps his eyes on him. “Sieun-ah, this is my Halmeoni. My lifeline.” he concludes dramatically. His words only slur a little bit. He pats himself on the back for it.

Sieun, to his utter surprise, plays along. 

He gets up to bow to her formally, the movement a little slow and stilted. “I leave myself in your care, Halmeoni.”

Halmeoni flaps at him to sit back down, puts an affectionate hand on his head and ruffles his hair. He shyly leans into it. Suho suddenly has an irrational urge to do the same. His fingers twitch. He ignores it for now, and soaks in the warmth of the two closest people in his life affectionately greeting each other instead. 

For the first time since he woke up, he feels a moment of complete silence and utter peace, looking at them. He berates himself for not greeting Sieun sooner. Halmeoni must’ve been worrying about him as well, he realizes. 

These days, he feels shortsighted about a lot of things. Suho naively wonders if this is what it means to grow up. Before he knows it, he’ll be twenty years old, by the time he starts feeling like a fully functional person again. Time wasn't so kind to stop for him, and still keeps barreling on, unaffected. Almost two years of his life were ripped away from him, gone without any chance of getting them back. This fact slowly begins to sink in, now that he has the space for thought. He wonders if he’ll always feel three years too young for his age.

Soon, he’ll have to start thinking about how to integrate back into society. The military would be out of the question—he’ll probably get an exemption from active-duty enlistment after his medical check-up and be deemed unfit for service. He wonders if social service is still doable.

He then wonders if he’ll be able to go to college, if he even wants to go to college. Will his parents still support Halmeoni once they catch wind of the fact that he’s awake? He isn’t sure if they have the means. He wonders if he can get work after a few more months of rehab. At least he doesn’t have to worry about the medical finances, he thinks bitterly. 

A soft noise breaks him out of his musings. He looks at Sieun, only to find him staring back at him. With a start, he notices that Halmeoni is no longer in the room. He looks around in confusion—he must’ve spaced out. He tends to do that more often nowadays. 

Sieun answers before he can get the question out. “She went to get us something to drink.”

“Ah…” Suho sits in uncomfortable silence, restless, until he can’t stand it any longer. “Sieun-ah.”

Sieun makes those starry eyes at him again. The eyes he’s been making ever since he saw him in front of the hospital. He laughs. “What was that?”

Sieun looks down and murmurs, “You said my name. It surprised me.”

Suho feels himself smile wider. “Sieun-ah.”

Sieun’s face grows red. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Suho grins, “Sieun-ah.”

“Stop that.” 

“No. Come here.”

“No. Why?”

“Just come here!” Suho plays the weak patient act, groaning and moaning while trying to shift in his bed. He makes space for Sieun and pats the empty bedding. Sieun, face all red and flushed, eyes glittering under the hospital light, comes wearily to sit down next to him. 

Suddenly, Suho has no idea what he was planning to do. Shortsighted, he thinks, once Sieun is settled close to his side on the bed and is looking at him with increasing caution, like a scared animal, something odd glinting in his eyes.

Suho throws all that caution to the wind, and tugs him close. Sieun stiffens like a rock, but falls into his embrace despite Suho’s weak tugs. Suho wraps his left arm around Sieun’s shoulders, and hovers the right one awkwardly atop Sieun’s head, before dropping it and tucking Sieun’s face under his neck. He can feel Sieun’s warm breath on his collarbone. He’s curled in an odd position, and Suho grows a little weary at himself for the impulsive action. Maybe he should’ve asked. 

But right before he starts to pull away, he feels Sieun melt against him. Feels Sieun’s arm loosen and come to circle around his waist. And suddenly, he’s being crushed for all he’s worth, until he can barely breathe.

“Whoa!” Suho sputters, then ruffles his hair and teases him warmly, “Ow! Hey hey, handle with care, coma patient here,” Suho grins playfully at him as Sieun slowly removes his head from where it’s nestled to glare at him tiredly, “don’t you know how fragile I… am…”

He sees the tear tracks on Sieun’s face. 

“Oh god…” Suho’s shaky right hand dislodges from Sieun’s hair to come and frantically wipe at his cheeks. He barely has strength in his arms anymore, so he tries to disguise the obvious tremors by gripping Sieun’s face a little tighter, thumb rubbing underneath his cheek. His movements are almost rough. 

Sieun seems to catch hold of his intentions somehow, bringing his other hand to wrap around Suho’s, pulling it away and clutching tightly at it.

“I’m sorry,” Suho breathes. He’s not sure what he’s sorry for, but he feels sorry. He feels an ache deep in his chest. Maybe he’s sorry for everything.

“Why are you sorry? Fool.”

Sieun buries his face back into his neck. Suho feels a weird tingle run up his spine, and then feels his face heat up. He doesn’t know what this feeling is. He stupidly wonders if it’s a side effect of his coma. He realizes that they've never hugged before.

“I’m the one who needs to be sorry.” Sieun says, voice muffled.

“What does that mean?” Suho tries to pull him off to get a good look at his face again, but Sieun clings to him like an octopus. Suho lets out a grunt of disbelief. “Sieun-ah, you’re acting… really weird right now…” He struggles out of his grip, pushing him off and then using both his palms to pull his face back in by his cheeks to examine it. “What are you doing?” Yeon Sieun bats at his hands. 

“I’m trying to see if I’ve met an imposter!”

“Whath?!” Sieun’s mouth gapes like a fish. He looks aggrieved.

“Stop resisting. Let me see.” Suho pulls his face left and right, poking and prodding at his cheeks all while Sieun half-heartedly attempts to struggle out of his grip. 

Halmeoni decides to walk in at this very moment with their drinks, and she sighs fondly at the mess in front of her. “Ah, you little kids. Ahn Suho, let go of that poor boy.”

When he finally lets go after bullying him to a satisfactory level, Sieun retreats almost immediately, just like a cat. He sits on the corner most chair, glaring at him while trying to flatten his hair, flustered, skin flushed. Suho has to hide his snort of amusement behind his banana milk. 

The warmth from Sieun’s tight embrace keeps a light smile on his sleeping face through the night. 

He has the same recurring dream that night. Blue skies, golden yellow streaks of sunlight, shifting clouds. This time, he tries to follow the voice. He tries to get closer and closer. Suddenly, he’s embraced in a warm golden glow, and it wraps around and around him. He tries to catch it with his hands, but they pass through, so he gives up and lets it permeate him. He smiles in contentment. 

“Suho-ya.” 

Yeon Sieun, where are you?

Sieun came to see him on a Friday, which means he stays with him throughout the weekend, only going home at night to catch sleep. It was hard for them to convince him to leave for the night, he seemed reluctant to leave Suho’s side. Only Halmeoni’s request finally cracked him. Seeing him waddle away made Suho feel an ache somewhere deep in his chest. He looked lonely. He had to resist calling him back.

Sieun comes back the next morning looking dreadful. 

“Sieun-ah, were you hit by a truck on your way home last night?” 

There’s an awkward silence, then Suho gapes. “No way, were you?”

“No. Sorry,” Sieun sighs, “it’s a long story.”

“What’s a long story? Hey—don’t leave me hanging—” Sieun goes to use the washroom, the door banging shut behind him. Just then, the physiotherapist enters for his session. Suho muffles a groan. 

The physiotherapist spares a glance at the washroom door and raises a brow. “Good morning, Suho-ssi. I trust you slept well last night? What did you eat for breakfast?”

Just like that, Suho completes an hour of physiotherapy. Sieun comes out to watch silently for most of it, nodding a greeting to the physiotherapist and then going to sit obediently on the corner chair. He opens up a book and starts studying, but he feels Sieun’s gaze on him now and then, when he isn't looking. Bookworm, Suho thinks distractedly, stretching his arms. 

“Hyung, when are my hands going to go back to normal? I still keep spilling when I eat. I feel like an invalid.”

“You are an invalid right now, Suho-ssi.” Seojun, his physiotherapist in his late twenties, flatly replies. 

Suho groans and throws his head back dramatically. 

“It’ll go away soon, stop crying. Follow all the finger, wrist and arm exercises I’ve shown you. Give yourself time. You have the comfort of our nurses’ steady hands to rely on till then.”

Seojun pats him on his back and leaves with his torture gang of cronies, while Suho's joints ache pathetically.

Suho fills the ensuing silence with satisfied groans from stretching on his bed, then shifts his gaze back to Sieun. He grins. “Wow, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Sieun rolls his eyes. 

“But seriously, were you up studying last night? Isn't it the beginning of the new semester now?”

“No…” Sieun seems to hesitate before replying. He sighs and closes his book. “I’ve had sleeping problems for a while.”

It takes a long second for Suho to realize. When he does, his heart drops in his chest. “Sieun-ah…” He doesn’t quite know how to respond. He feels a twinge of sorrow spread through him. 

“It’s okay, it’ll go now that…” Sieun fiddles with his jacket. It’s a nice jacket. “I’m just used to…” Suho zones in on the jacket now, distracted. That windbreaker does look awfully familiar. He must spend a good amount of time staring at it, because Sieun suddenly shoots up, shrugging it off. 

“Here, I thought I’d…” he flushes, “It was with me. I wanted to return it. Since you have my hoodie.”

Hoodie? 

Oh, Suho realizes. The grey hoodie that’s strewn by his feet. Suho moves to pick it up. “This is yours?” He’s not sure why he’s flustered. “It didn’t smell like you though,” What are you saying?

Sieun snatches it hurriedly, shoving his windbreaker in his face. “What are you talking about?” He looks so shy. Suho feels that strange rush again. “You’ve had it for a while.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Suho pauses, before saying: 

“You can keep both.” 

“I don’t want—”

“It suits you.”

Suho’s throat gets scratchy, and he clears it busily. 

He adopts a casual tone as he says, “Keep it.” and he tosses it back at Sieun, who receives it numbly. “I have another one at home, anyway.”

Sieun stands there staring at him blankly, until they’re interrupted by a nurse bustling in. Sieun robotically shrugs the windbreaker back on, and places the grey hoodie right back at Suho’s feet. Neither of them acknowledge it any further. 

“Sieun-ah, do you know where my phone is?” He asks after his speech therapy session. 

His speech therapist was taken by Sieun, after he had introduced him to her. “Ah, that Yeon Sieun! Suho’s best friend! I’ve heard so much about you.” Suho had coughed awkwardly into his fist. Doctor Park became endeared to him very quickly, looking at his pre-med textbook and remarking, “Do you plan on pursuing medicine?!” Suho had done a double-take then. He hadn’t noticed.

Sieun had told her he isn't sure, but considering trauma surgery, after which they’d had a lengthy conversation. Suho had felt awfully strange about it. Trauma surgery, huh?

Now, Sieun seems to be acting suspiciously evasive. 

“I don’t know. Ask Halmeoni.” 

Hm… 

“Hm…” Suho studies him and finds nothing useful.

“What.” Sieun says, deadpan. 

Suho scratches his brow awkwardly. “Trauma surgery, huh?”

Sieun stills from where he was organizing his books on the side. 

Suho hesitates, his expression turning pensive. “Is it…” 

Sieun turns suddenly. “No. It’s not... It's not.”

“Right, right,” Suho lets out an awkward laugh. “Well, it’s pretty cool anyway, I think I’ve watched a show based on it, it seemed cool.”

Sieun relaxes a little, letting out a soft, “Yeah,”

They didn’t acknowledge it any further after that.

Suho slowly starts noticing patterns. There seems to be a lot that goes unacknowledged between them, stilted conversations that often come to an abrupt end, loose threads that don’t seem to be picked back up, but he chalks it out as the awkwardness that comes with a longtime reunion. Maybe they’ve always been this way, using more than just words to communicate and understand each other. But sometimes his heart feels awfully itchy, like there’s an itch that he can’t seem to scratch no matter how hard he tries to dig into his chest. 

They don’t talk about his coma, either. Nor do they talk about the circumstances that led up to it. Suho knows it’s a conversation that needs to happen eventually, but he selfishly wants to stay in this little bubble for a little longer, and he feels like Sieun does as well.

And so they do.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Suho catches Sieun staring, as if enraptured. Sieun stares a lot more than he used to, as if he’s primed to Suho’s every breath and every little movement. At first, Suho thinks of commenting on it, to break the awkward tension he feels inside from being pinned down by Yeon Sieun’s heavy stare.

But he decides not to say anything, in the end. 

Because sometimes, he feels like Sieun is very determinedly trying to convince himself that this is reality, and that it isn’t going anywhere, that it isn’t an illusion. And when he has those little moments of realization, his eyes get a little wider, his breath comes out a little fuller. He feels a rare sense of innocent wonder from Sieun. 

It’s endearing. 

Suho lets him have it, and wonders if this is what it means to grow up: living, and letting live, or whatever they call it. He’s not quite sure.

Two kids chase each other haphazardly across the hospital lawn, playing freeze tag. One catches the other, and both of them fall to the ground, toppling over each other and giggling. Their parents call them back from a distance tiredly. 

"You've stopped fighting?" 

He can see Sieun's eyes snap to him from where they've been spacing out. They're sitting by the bench again, side by side. 

The reply comes a beat later. "Yeah." 

"Good." 

There's a silence wherein neither of them are sure how to continue, even though they have so much they want to say to each other. Suho wishes he had the ability to word things a little more poetically. He's always felt a bit rough around the edges, but since his coma, he's felt like his words come out even more jagged. He briefly hopes Sieun can help piece his fragmented mind back together, eventually. He's always been smart like that. Too smart for his own good.

He stares at Sieun for a moment. Yeon Sieun, who's currently staring down at a ladybug that's landed on the sleeve of his windbreaker. He watches as Sieun gently holds up a finger next to it, letting it climb onto him, then slowly, ever so carefully, lifts his finger to settle next to a leaf from the tree branch next to him. He sees the ladybug crawl all the way to the leaf, settling on it with shaky movements. Sieun stares at it with his usual listless gaze.

Suddenly, Suho has to avert his eyes before Sieun notices the tears that have somehow spontaneously welled up in them. He purses his lips. He feels waves of an unnamed emotion gather in his heart, rising and rising like the high tide, then:

I'd do it all over again, for you, is what he thinks.

"I'm glad you're okay," is what comes out, hoarsely. 

Sieun stares, and stares. Finally, "I'm glad you're okay, too—"

"And that you have friends who look after you. Are they good to you? Do they give you any trouble?" 

His voice cracks. Ah, screw it. Suho looks back at him with his watery eyes. Sieun looks taken aback at the sight. 

"No, they don't," an affirmative shake of his head, "they're good people. You'll like them."

Suho nods, looking back out into the lawn again and keenly observing a grasshopper skip away. "I'd better." 

He doesn't see Sieun's little half-smile, as he looks down and fiddles with the windbreaker, before shoving his hands inside its pockets.

They watch the sunset, a gentle warmth imbuing the air around them. 

Sieun stays until late. Halmeoni, astutely noticing his exaggerated eye bags, had set up a makeshift bed using the chairs while they had gone on their walk. 

When Sieun notices, he pauses. The tension he looked like he had been carrying towards the evening melts out of him. Suho is suddenly very grateful for his Halmeoni, and that makes him teary eyed again. He blinks them away. He wonders if the wayward emotions are an effect of recovery, or the relief he feels from being alive and seeing his loved ones safe and looking after each other, or his teenage hormones giving one last final hoorah before exiting. 

Maybe it's all of that, or none of it. He doesn't care to give it too much attention. 

He needs one less nurse's help to get onto the bed today. He exchanges a proud grin with her. She looks genuinely pleased, and when he looks closer, he sees her eyes glisten with unshed tears.  

Suho then wonders if that's what it means to grow up: feeling the need to cry for all the little blessings in life. Yeah, that sounds about right. 

Tonight, with Sieun sleeping a few feet away, he dreams. 

But the dream takes on an unusual quality, perhaps catalyzed by the strong emotions he'd felt today. In it, he embraces Sieun so tight, too tight, and Sieun begins melting away. He feels panicked and helpless, desperately trying to gather him in his arms, but his movements are sluggish, as if trapped in honey. 

No, he thinks, come back. 

Suddenly, he's standing in front of Sieun's unresponsive door, and starts banging on it, wishing desperately for it to open. The banging makes no sound. He tries to open his mouth, but water starts gushing in. He's underwater. He desperately tries for the knob.

The door suddenly opens, and as his eyes trail up, his brief flicker of relief is replaced by sheer horror at who's behind it. 

Oh Beomseok.

The dream isn't particularly as gory and nightmarish as the others, but the last few moments still jolt him awake, his eyes snapping open. His breathing comes shallow. His hands shake as he tries to push the blanket off himself. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he notices something shifting in the darkness. For a moment, pure adrenaline floods his veins, before he hears the soft, "Suho-ya?" 

Sieunie's here, he remembers, as his heart settles. 

"Mm," his voice comes out hoarse. 

He sees Sieun get out of his little makeshift bed and move towards him, more shadowy blob than person. He still has his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

"It's nothing, go back to sleep," Suho sighs, "just needed water."

He turns to sit on the side of the bed, reaching out, but Sieun beats him to the water jug and pours him a glass. 

"Thanks." He takes a giant swig, gulping all of it down in one go. He really was thirsty. 

Sieun comes to sit next to him on the bed, but keeps his distance. A machine beeps softly next to them. "Bad dream?" 

"No." Suho lies. Then: "Where's Oh Beomseok?" 

Sieun immediately stiffens. There's a muted silence. "You... You remember?" 

"More or less. The memories keep coming back to me in dreams, or I'll look at something or think about something and suddenly remember. I didn't ask Halmeoni. She didn't tell me, either." 

Sieun nods, then pauses for a while, as if trying to collect his bearings. "He's... Gone." 

"Gone?" 

"Somewhere." Sieun shrugs.

Ah. "His dad covered—for—" Suho nods, realization sinking in. Sieun's fists curl tightly over the hem of his blanket. Suho wants to unfurl them. He closes his eyes against the rage that suddenly floods through him. He sees red despite the darkness of the night. 

His voice trembles, "Fucking bastard." 

"Yeah," 

"Cowardly fucker." 

Sieun's head bends down further. His fists stay curled. 

"If I get my hands on him, I'll... I'll..." He finds that he can’t finish his sentence.

"I know." 

"Yeah." Suho slumps back against his pillows, rubbing his tired eyes. He doesn't know what to do with himself. "Sieun-ah." 

Sieun looks up. 

Suho tries desperately to find his eyes in the dark. "It's not your fault."

Suho mistakes Sieun's silence as denial, so he moves in, reaching out his hand. Sieun takes it, unfurling his fist and holding Suho's hand as gently as he had held the ladybug earlier in the evening. 

"It's not your fault." Suho repeats, as he squeezes. 

"I... I know," Sieun says as if convincing himself, and squeezes back, "My friends told me." 

Suho feels his heart splinter. He clenches his jaw and blinks back tears. He feels a sudden rush of gratefulness for Sieun's friends. "They're right. Listen to your friends well." 

Sieun squeezes lightly again, before letting go. "I do." 

They sit in silence for another moment, but Suho's emotions gradually rise and rise like a tsunami, pulling him in unawares. He doesn't feel in control of them, hasn't felt in control all day. He decides to let the overwhelming tide sweep him away. It's easier, in the dark.

"I'd do it again," he suddenly chokes out, laying himself bare, saying the words that he’s had on the tip of his tongue for hours. His feelings overwhelm him, his heart beats loud against his chest. "I'd keep doing it, if it means—" 

He hears Sieun's breath hitch. "Stop—" 

"I'd trap myself in a time loop and greet Dormammu infinitely, if it means—" 

"Ahn Suho," He can hear the watery smile in Sieun's voice. "You're crazy."*

"I am," Suho feels his throat close up.

He wishes so badly to see Sieun's smile at that moment, so he reaches over to turn the bed lamp on. Both of them cringe for a second, then Suho's sight clears, and he feels grateful for the existence of light. Sieun's looking at him with the same fond little smile that he gave him in that hospital all those years ago. He still remembers the taste of that ox bone soup. 

Sieun just keeps staring at him fondly with that smile. It feels like light. Suho basks in it now, and returns it dopily. They sit like that for a long time. 

Yeon Sieun. His friend.

No matter what happens, they'll have each other now. 

That's all that matters. 

Later, as Sieun gets back into his bed, and as Suho's hand hovers over the string for the bed lamp, Sieun, voice laced with unusual conviction, says:

"I'd do the same for you." 

Suho smiles, pulling the string, and engulfing them in darkness again. The warmth lingers. 

"I know." 

Nurse Kim Jiyong meets Sieun on one of the nights. He’d just come back from hagwon, tiredly slipping his schoolbag onto the chair with a thump. It’s heavier now that Sieun has to carry a change of clothes and his toiletries in it. Jiyong, hovering by the end of Suho’s bed and checking on a couple sheets of reports, looks at Sieun.

Suho, just getting done in the washroom, and hearing Sieun come in with the thump of his schoolbag, excitedly pushes his walker towards the door—then pauses. 

And listens. 

“Sieun-ssi,” he hears a female voice sniffling and gasping for air. “I’m so happy for you, I really am,”

Suho nudges the door open a small crack and leans forward, not wanting to interrupt the moment. He feels a brief zap of something in his chest when he sees Sieun awkwardly embraced by the nurse, stiffly patting at her back as she quietly sobs. Still, his face is soft. A thread of understanding underlines it. 

Suho unconsciously rubs away at his sternum, willing the feeling away. He considers closing the door and waiting it out, but then Sieun makes eye contact with him. 

Aw, man, Suho thinks, then gives up and opens the door as casually as he can, pretending he hadn’t seen anything. It bangs awkwardly against the wall.

By the time he looks back up from pushing the walker out in front of the door, Nurse Jiyong has separated from Sieun. 

“Ah, Sieun-ah, you’re here!” Suho attempts. He cringes at himself. 

Sieun exchanges a small glance with the nurse, who avoids facing Suho, wiping ferociously at her face, then nods in his direction. “I’m here.”

Once she leaves, and Suho is settled on the bed again, Sieun comes to stand by the edge and stares down at the frame, before meeting his eyes. Suho raises a brow in inquiry. 

“They all know.” 

Sieun struggles, then, “They’re all happy. For you. For us.”

It takes a second to fully sink in.

Suho imagines a lonely Yeon Sieun, coming to visit him almost every day for a year and nine months, and imagines the nurses who must have borne witness to it, and he feels a pang in his chest. They must’ve eventually become equally invested in Suho’s recovery. He feels silly for not realizing this sooner, given how easily emotional some of them get when he makes his little breakthroughs, or shows improvement. He vows to learn all their names and thank them personally for looking after him and Sieun and Halmeoni.

Suho smiles at Sieun softly. “I understand. Thanks for letting me know.” 

Sieun tilts his head in a nod, then waddles away.  

It’s cute.

“Sieun-ssi,”

“Mm.” 

“I want to meet your friends.”

Sieun’s pencil stutters against his book, then comes to a halt. It’s late into the night, his bed lamp the only light illuminating the room. It diffuses in a soft glow, and makes Sieun’s lines look even softer.

Suho gives him a lazy smirk from where he’s lying on his side on the bed, propped up on his arm, blatantly staring. 

“You’ve been hiding them away from me.”

Sieun’s brows furrow into a tiny little frown. “I haven’t been—okay.”

“Okay?”

Sieun’s face slowly relaxes, and he gives Suho a little ghost of a smile. 

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

“Sieun-ssi, can any of your new friends throw a punch?” Suho asks curiously, facing the bathroom mirror and finishing up his shave.

Sieun, sitting by the window reading his textbook, takes a moment.

Then, “No, not really.”

Suho, completely ignorant to the playful little twinkle in Sieun’s eyes, lets his ego freely inflate, as he tries his best not to cut himself with his trembling hands.

Sieun’s friends, gathered outside Suho’s room, all take on uncharacteristically nervous appearances, shuffling this way and that. “Gotak, they’ll call us in, right?” Baku clears his throat.

“How am I s’posed to know that, idiot?” 

“You’re the one who said barging in on a coma patient is impolite!” 

“Well, I didn’t say don’t knock, did I?”

Juntae pushes through both of them with a tired sigh and goes to pull the private room door open. “Excu—”

“What are you guys doing?” Sieun’s voice suddenly sounds from behind them.

“Ah, fuck—!” Baku jumps and turns around, raising his haunches. Juntae and Hyuntak turn to face him as well, the private room door halfway open behind them, an old grandpa awkwardly craning his neck from his bed, a young lady frozen with a spoon halfway to his mouth.

“It’s this room.” Sieun gestures behind him. 

“Ah—ah—” Juntae turns back to the old man and the young lady, stammering out apologies and bowing repeatedly, “So sorry, sorry,” he closes the door, while Baku clears his throat. “Right, Sieun-man, we were just…”

“Come in.”

“Excuse us!” They push through. Sieun fights the eyeroll, letting out a long sigh. 

“Hm…”

After the perfunctory introductions, completed with awkward handshakes, there’s an uncharacteristic silence as Sieun’s friends pull chairs to settle around in a circle around Suho's bed. Juntae fiddles with his bag keychain nervously, Hyuntak is distracted by the keychain fiddling, all the while Baku and Suho appraise each other with arms crossed. Sieun, standing by the window, waits to see who drops the ball first.

They all stare at Suho, who breaks the silence with, “What are y’all’s class ranks?”

Baku puffs his chest out. “Well, friend—”

“He means studying.” Hyuntak interrupts pointedly.

“Ah,” Baku deflates, “right,”

Suho shoots Hyuntak a puzzled look. “What else would I mean?”

“Uh…” Hyuntak trails off, leading to an awkward silence.

Suho gives Sieun a suspicious glance, but before he can open his mouth, Juntae butts in. “We’re not all that great,” he laughs nervously, “Sieunie’s the best in the school.”

“Isn’t he!” Suho brightens, taking the bait and completely forgetting his previous train of thought. “He’s always been a bookworm, this one.”

Juntae nods eagerly, tacks on, “The best, the best.”

What’s this guy’s deal, Baku thinks, did he just bring up class ranks so he can brag about Yeon Sieun?

Baku breaks out into a shit-eating grin, as if having read through Suho, and begins confidently, “Not only is Sieun great at studying, he also throws a mean p—”

“Ball!” Juntae squeaks, “Basketball!”

Suho lets out a loud laugh, clapping Juntae on his shoulder. “Sieunie? Ha, playing basketball?!” He looks over at Sieun and the laughter dies in his throat. 

Sieun, who’s flushed and looking at the ground as if pleading for it to swallow him up. 

“Sieun-ah, seriously?”

Sieun closes his eyes, accepting his fate as a newly-minted basketball player. “... Yeah.”

Later, after everyone gets comfortable and Hyuntak goes to get them drinks from the vending machine, Juntae pulls Baku off to the side.

“Baku-ya, remember! No mentioning any fighting!” he whispers fiercely.

“Right, right,” Baku nods seriously, “No fighting.”

Still later, 

“Do you fight?” Suho asks Baku curiously. 

“Yes.” Baku deadpans, a solemn look on his face, “On the court. I fight to win.”

This guy’s kinda lame, Suho thinks. 

Baku clears his throat awkwardly. This guy totally thinks I’m lame, doesn’t he?

As far as first impressions go, Sieun observes that there's potential for improvement. But watching his two worlds collide, if at first a bit awkwardly, Sieun feels an odd sense of contentment and pride. Pride, at having Suho, and pride, also at having this particular group of noisy, caring friends. It’s a new feeling, a feeling he’s never felt before, and he lingers in it for a moment longer than he’d admit. 

Sieun ends the day feeling tired but satisfied. 

Suho, on the other hand, turns pensive after Sieun’s friends leave. 

Something was clearly a little off, he thinks. Am I the one who was being too awkward? He dismisses the thought. Nah, that can’t be it. Plus, they all got along just fine but for a couple awkward minutes.

His eyes trail to the private room door, thinking back to when Sieun had opened it to let them in. The biggest one, Park Humin, had adopted a surprisingly quick defensive stance the moment he was caught unawares. His form was top notch, and his reflexes were almost on par with Suho’s. 

But he denied having any experience fighting, or training in any martial arts. Is my intuition off?

Usually, his intuition about someone’s fighting abilities is never wrong. He wonders if he's that rusty.

Suho lets his gaze slowly trail back to Sieun, who’s walking out of the washroom towelling his wet hair. “Sieun-ah…”

“Hm?” Sieun looks up at him with a soft, content little expression on his face.

Suho’s heart gets stuck in his throat. What’s with that face?

Sieun looks at him expectantly. 

Suho clears his throat. 

“It’s nothing.” 

Later, 

Baku, Juntae and Hyuntak are on their way out of the hospital, when Baku puts his arms around both of their shoulders. “Great job, team!”

Hyuntak scoffs, “You shouldn’t be the one saying that.”

Juntae parrots, “Yeah Baku, you almost gave us away.”

Baku groans. “It was just a tiny moment of weakness! Come on, the guy didn’t notice a thing, he was so clueless!” 

“I don’t know, he seemed pretty perceptive,” Juntae gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Nah, trust me. I know how that guy’s brain works. It’s just full of Yeon Sieun. What say chicken wings for dinner, huh pals?” He gives their shoulders a firm shake, pushing them towards the gate. They only meekly protest before giving up, trailing alongside him.

The full moon glints high in the sky, illuminating the night with a soft glow as the stars twinkle playfully around it. Sieun’s friends’ booming laughter and bickering fades into the distance as they make their way down the quiet street, and in that moment, all is well, especially for a certain Yeon Sieun. 

Chapter Text

It's the end of the school day, and Sieun’s making his way to the basketball club.

“Hey, princess!”

He hears a familiar shout from somewhere behind him, and a couple seconds later, Baku knocks into him with an arm around his shoulder, the other one busy spinning a basketball. 

“You know,” Baku hits him with another one of his oddly contemplative stares that he's been giving Sieun the past couple days, “your Ahn Suho’s a pretty cool fella.” 

Sieun brightens around the edges. Aha, Baku thinks. 

“Dude's like your smile button, isn't he?” Sieun coughs, arranging his facial muscles back into peaceful neutrality. “Ha, I've got you figured out, Yeon Sieun!” Baku ruffles his hair, opening the basketball club door. 

Juntae and Hyuntak pause their mentoring session to greet them, then go right back to dribbling.

“Ah, right,” after haphazardly throwing down his schoolbag against the sofa, Baku turns to Sieun, who's getting out his pencil case and textbook from his bag, “Yeon Sieun, would your Suho want to play a lil catch ball with us sometime? We'll keep it light, promise.” 

Sieun thinks about it, then replies, “Yeah, I'll ask him about it.” 

Doctor Kang consults with Suho and Halmeoni, Sieun hovering in the background. 

“Patient Suho,” the doctor begins with a smile, “have you been well?” 

Suho returns it. “Raring to go, doc.” 

“Great to hear!” He takes a moment to ruffle through some papers. “Your test results are all looking good. Doctor Park reports you've been able to recover almost all of your memory but for a couple little details, and you're all set on the speech therapy front. Excellent. Brain scans looking normal as well.” 

Suho looks proudly at Sieun. 

“Now, the only thing we have left to address is physiotherapy.” He gestures over to physiotherapist Seojun, who walks over and passes his folder to the doctor.

“Suho is showing a remarkably fast pace of recovery, partially owing to his own physical health prior to hospitalization.” Seojun begins, then pauses, "But I'd want him under supervision for at least two more weeks, to ensure full mobilization. His knees are still a huge problem area.”  

Suho deflates a little bit. 

Doctor Kang nods understandingly, then turns to face Suho again. “We must keep in mind that you're incredibly lucky that due to your young age, you're able to mobilize enough to move around relatively independently. Not everyone recovering from a long-term coma has the ability to bounce back the way you have. Let's celebrate your wins. We'll let you out soon, so long as you keep on track with your physical rehabilitation and don't push yourself too hard.” 

Doctor Kang pauses and then, cursory, “Do you need support with anything else?” 

Suho shakes his head. “Thank you.” 

“We look forward to your full recovery!” Doctor Kang nods an affirmative, pats his arm and greets Halmeoni, then makes his way out with his entourage. 

Halmeoni looks visibly emotional as she cradles Suho’s hand. “Suho-ya, I'm so proud of you. You've come so far.” 

Suho sighs, glaring at his damn knees. 

“Yeah, we'll be out of here soon.” 

A day later, Suho lets his curses fly freely after his physiotherapy session. Sieun takes pause, staring at Suho’s back from where he's hunched over on the bed. 

“Suho?” He waddles his way over hesitantly.

Suho looks pained, clutching at his right knee. He's holding back tears of frustration, biting at his lip. Sieun comes to sit next to him on the bedside. 

“Does it hurt a lot?” 

“No,” Suho grits his teeth, “It'll be just fine, don't worry,” 

“Who's worried?” Sieun retorts flatly, then his expression softens. “If it hurts, you have to say it hurts.” 

Suho relaxes his grip on his damned knee, staring at it helplessly. Then he nods. “It hurts.” he chokes out, “It hurts a lot, Sieun-ah,” 

Suho’s head comes to rest on Sieun’s shoulder. Sieun leans into it, letting him get comfortable. 

Then, with slight movements, Sieun hesitates before slowly hooking his pinky finger with Suho’s where it's gripping his knee, and squeezes lightly. Suho lets out an endeared chortle, wiping away a stray tear. “Yeon Sieun, who made you this cute?” 

Sieun stiffens slightly. “Hm?” Suho looks up at that moment, his face startlingly close. Sieun unhooks his pinky almost immediately, pushing off the bed.

“Quit it.” he mumbles under his breath. 

Suho protests immediately, “Sieun-ah, where are you going? My knee still hurts, ah,” he pulls a pained expression. 

“Deal with it.” 

Suho smiles fondly at Sieun’s retreating back, saluting. “Yessir.” 

A couple nights later, Suho’s eyes fly open from a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night, and he takes a moment to adjust to the darkness.

He sees something from the corner of his eye, and stares at it in confusion before realising that it's Yeon Sieun, hovering over him from the corner of the bed, wrapped in his blanket. Suho gets up immediately, startling him. 

“Sieun-ah,” he says raspily. 

Sieun is seemingly frozen. 

Suho pulls the blanket off, getting his slightly achy legs to stretch, and pushes himself out of bed. “Sieun-ah, is everything okay?” 

“Yeah.” Sieun turns to move away, then Suho pulls him back in by his blanket. He accidentally misjudges how hard he pulls, and Sieun comes stumbling over. 

He catches him by the neck as Sieun’s nose hits his chest. “Sorry,” he says as Sieun straightens himself, then notices cold sweat against his fingers. 

He frowns. 

He places the back of his hand against Sieun’s forehead. No temperature. His frown deepens.

Slowly, realisation creeps up on him, and he moves the hand against Sieun’s forehead down to caress his jaw, pulling his chin up towards him. 

It's useless in the dark, but he feels like he can still make Sieun’s eyes out somehow.

“Nightmare?” he murmurs, “Is that why you were standing there, like a zombie?” He feels Sieun’s weak nod more than sees it. “Why didn't you wake me up any sooner?” He rubs his thumb against the side of Sieun’s cheek repeatedly. 

“Didn't wanna disturb you,” Sieun whispers. 

“Come here.” Suho pulls him back in by his neck, wrapping both his arms around his shoulders. “Had to do with me?” 

Sieun nods again, face buried in Suho’s neck. Suho suppresses a shiver. Sieun's hands, still gripping the ends of the blanket, wrap around Suho’s waist. “I'm here now. Sieun-ah, I'm right here.” Sieun nods and tightens his grip. Suho gently caresses the back of his head, repeats, “I'm here.” 

Sieun pulls him in even tighter, wrapping both of them snugly inside the blanket, squeezing his eyes shut. “Mm.”

Sieun wakes up to the sounds of the early morning birds chirping, a purple haze filtering through the quiet room. He snuggles into the warmth of the pillow, sinking into the heavy weight of Suho’s limbs across his sides, feeling Suho’s light breaths scatter against the back of his head. 

Suho's arm tightens around his waist. 

Sieun, convinced that he's in a dream, lets himself fall back asleep, feeling deep-seated contentment. 

He sleeps like a baby. 

When Sieun wakes up again, it’s way past early morning, the sun shining brightly into the room. Sieun squints against the harsh daylight, then burrows himself into the pillow again, before slowly realising that the perspective is all off, and he's not in his bed. 

He shoots up. 

Suho, in the middle of brushing his teeth and leaning nonchalantly against the washroom door, staring brazenly at Sieun in his bed, still somehow manages to twist his face into a cocky smirk, toothpaste foaming out of his mouth. He looks straight at Sieun and winks playfully. 

Sieun feels his face heat up.

Suho walks back inside to spit with an annoying confidence in his gait. 

The nurses, back in their break room, all lean in conspiratorily and speak in excited whispers, squealing here and there. 

Nurse Dahyun places her hand against her heart, sighing wistfully. “And so I walk in and notice that there’s no one sleeping on the visitor’s bed, or the makeshift one, and it already feels off because there’s always either his grandma or his friend there, or both,”

The other nurses nod eagerly, “And then?”

“Then I walk to the bed as usual, not noticing anything. I put the tray down, and I look up, only to see them wrapped around each other like—like a pair of—what is it again?”

“Puppies?”

Another nurse scoffs, “Yeon Sieun is clearly a cat.”

“Well, whatever! And in my shock, Ahn Suho opens his eyes and stares right at me!”

Gasps. “And so?”

“I was so panicked, I was about to start apologizing like crazy, I felt like I totally invaded their privacy, but then,” she pauses and looks around, imitating his actions, “he slowly brings his finger up and makes a shushing motion, pointing to Yeon Sieun, and then he—he winks!” 

The nurses all giggle. 

A male nurse interrupts from the side, sipping his instant coffee and listening in nosily, “Well, so? Friends can’t sleep in the same bed?”

He ends up being on the receiving end of the most severe looks of ire known to mankind.

He decides to zip his lips shut.

Chapter Text

Ahn Suho, having woken up with someone in his bed for the first time in his life, feels a strange lingering emptiness the next few days, when Sieun inevitably migrates back to his own bed. 

Sleepily staring at Sieun’s snoozing back, he recollects when they’d stumbled onto his bed, Suho bundling him up like a burrito in his blanket and throwing an arm around him, patting him to sleep like a baby. Sieun, half-asleep, had indolently rubbed his face against Suho’s chest.

He’d felt so soft against him, like his pink arm pillow, squishy like a plush toy. Suho had felt a strong desire to knead at him like dough, only resisting the urge so as to not wake him up and spook him right into hiding. Instead, he held him as gently as possible, part of him unable to believe that it was Yeon Sieun he was patting to sleep.

Feeling his heartbeat pick up in excitement at the memory, he tamps down on it and pushes off the bed, reaching for his slippers with his feet. He pads softly across to the washroom, stretching his arms and cracking his neck. These days, he notes with a tinge of satisfaction, he can maintain good balance without needing his walker support. He can also stand for longer stretches, and bend and squat without his knees and back crying in pain. He no longer feels like an old man. 

He relishes in it, and internally thanks his physiotherapist. 

Remembering that Sieun’s friends are coming to play catch ball with them later, he feels a thrill of excitement. He hasn’t played any games or been active in so long, his body craves it. 

Initially, when Sieun had suggested catch ball, they’d double-checked with his physiotherapist. Seojun had advised them to only use lighter balls, such as a beach volleyball. Juntae would be bringing the beach volleyball over, Sieun told him, and they’d play on the lawn. Suho was also under strict instruction to not move too unnecessarily, and let someone else pick up the ball for him if it landed too far. He’d saluted and nodded seriously. Seojun had given him a mistrusting look and sighed in resignation. 

Suho bounces on the balls of his feet, using the toilet and washing his hands and face. His hands no longer visibly shake either, now reduced to a tiny, almost inconspicuous jitter. Still, they advise him against taking up any work involving knives or other sharp objects. He scratches kitchen duty off the list of potential future jobs. 

When he comes out, he sees Sieun drowsily waiting by the door with his uniform in his arms, swaying side to side.

Suho pauses, and snorts fondly. Sieun cracks an eye open. “You’re done?” his voice breaks. 

“Yeah, I’m done,” Suho smacks his ass on the way out, jolting him forward. 

That same day, he gets the go-ahead for discharge in a couple days from his doctor. He waits in excitement like a puppy for Sieun to come back after school, immediately sharing the news as soon as he hears the door open.

“Sieun-ssi!” He sees Sieun’s little face poke through as he mutters, “I’m back,” and Suho drowns it out with an animated, “Guess who’s a free man!” as he walks towards him.

Sieun pauses. Suho stops in front of him, smiling proudly. 

“Really?” Sieun searches for confirmation, and Suho nods affirmatively. A smile slowly breaks out across Sieun’s face. “Well done, Suho-ya.”

Suho replays the sight in his head for the rest of the day. 

“Yeah, so then I was like ‘ha, this loser’s trying to play dirty on a sacred court’, and man, that really got to me, you know?” Baku narrates excitedly.

Hyuntak sighs, having heard this story for the millionth time, and passes the ball over to Juntae. 

Suho nods, slightly invested despite himself. “And so?"

“And so I get a good running start, thinking, I might as well teach this punk a lesson not to mess with the Eunjang basketball team ever again.” Juntae passes to Sieun.

“Right,” 

Sieun passes to Suho, who catches it without looking.

“So I run across the court, and everyone obviously thinks I’m trying to dunk into the hoop,” Suho passes to Baku. 

Baku receives the ball from Suho, and fully immersed in the story, he uses it as a prop instead. He dribbles it dramatically. “And as I make my way across, I see that fucker standing right there, next to the hoop, watching me with those stupid greedy eyes of his,” he points somewhere in the distance, zoning in, “And then wham!” He jumps, smashing the ball into the ground with unnecessary force, startling a kid who happened to be passing nearby. “I dunk right on the guy’s head. Ha. It was just like when Sakuragi dunked on Akagi’s head, but even funnier.”

Suho murmurs a ‘wah’, “That’s pretty cool.”

Baku puffs his chest. “Isn’t it? Man, it was so worth the suspension,”

Huh, Sieun notes, is that his signature move or something?

Later, 

Suho, to test his theory, and just to be a little shit, catches Baku by surprise. 

“Baku, catch,” he says to his unsuspecting back, flinging the ball with maximum strength. He sends it flying towards Baku, who immediately raises guard and deflects it with surprising speed. 

“Hey man, not cool!”

Hmph, Suho thinks smugly, theory confirmed. 

He catches Sieun staring and wipes the growing smirk off his face, looking away and whistling innocently. 

On the day of his discharge, he feels a weird mix of heady excitement, nerves and a strange sense of sadness. 

It only exaggerates when the nurses and physiotherapy staff come to visit him, carrying a small cake with a candle.

“Congratulations on your new lease of life!” one of them says as they all crowd around him with the cake, Nurse Dahyun lighting the candle whilst Nurse Jiyong comes forward to put a birthday hat on his head. He leans down to help her reach.

After adjusting the hat, she spots Sieun standing off to the side, and she goes to pull him into the circle.

They sing him the birthday song, amended to ‘rebirth day’, and he grins as he blows the candles. “Thanks, everyone,” he looks around at all of them, wishing he had the words to express his gratitude, and tries to convey it with his expression instead. “Really wouldn’t be here without you.”

Halmeoni comes to pick him up afterwards and gets all the paperwork done with Sieun’s help. She says she shifted his room, and that he should take hers while he recovers, because, “It gets more natural sunlight. You’ll need it to sleep well,” and dismisses all his protests with a wave of his hand, “Sieunie will help you unpack your things.” She sounds final. 

As they get into the taxi and start moving out, Suho feels even stranger seeing the hospital fade into the distance. The tears that he’d been resisting all day suddenly hit him in the back of the car, and he immediately whips his face away so as to not let Sieun catch a whiff. 

Suddenly, he feels a light, almost unnoticeable nudge against his thigh, and looks down to see Sieun’s hand there, laying limp. Suho looks up at him in surprise, but Sieun’s faced away from him, the tips of his ears growing red. 

Suho suppresses his fond smile and takes his hand, twines their fingers, and looks out to the changing scenery.

Home. 

Let’s go home. 

"Sieun-ssi," Suho has an unusually serious look on his face as he sits cross legged on the mat in his new room, hands resting on his knees. He nods to himself sagely, humming. "Yes, I'm finally starting to feel like myself again." He slowly cracks his neck, then rolls his shoulders.

Sieun resists the urge to sigh, and levels him with his usual indolent Sieun-like stare. 

"Don't give me that look. You know how crazy I was going, cooped up in that hospital? I started thinking about life philosophies and all that. Things like, what does it mean to grow up, y'know?" Suho scrunches his nose and nudges it with his finger. "I got really deep." 

"Wow," Sieun deadpans, "must've been tough for you." He turns around, and starts to unpack Suho's things for him. 

"Punk." Suho gets up, going over and lightly bumping his knee against the back of Sieun's thigh, when Sieun suddenly freezes, having spotted something that makes his blood run cold.

"Oh!" Suho suddenly exclaims, pulling his hands out of his pockets. "My phone!" he reaches for it and puts one arm over Sieun's shoulder, grabbing the old cracked thing from the bunch of items, "Man, does this thing even work anymore?" 

Sieun is seized by a sudden bolt of panic that makes him reach for it speedily, snatching it out of Suho's hand and twisting out from under his arm, then promptly backing up against the room door.

Suho blinks at the empty space where Sieun was a second ago, then looks behind him and startles. "Hey, how did you get there so fast?! You turn into the Flash or what?" 

Sieun starts sweating from embarrassment, refusing to look into Suho's eyes. Suho tilts his head in confusion, rubbing absentmindedly at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards Sieun, which makes Sieun cringe reflexively. "Hey, what's wrong with you all of a sudden?" 

Another step, and another. He looks like a spooked cat with its hairs raised, ready to bolt. Suho decides to approach with caution, stopping right in front of him, eyes lowering to the phone clutched tightly by Sieun's side. He begins to reach for it, and Sieun hides it further behind his windbreaker, hand disappearing under the sleeve. Suho pauses mid-movement, fingers hovering in the air between them, and looks up to study Sieun's face. 

He suddenly hears the click of a door unlocking and looks down to see Sieun's other hand on the handle, twisting it, opening the door just slightly.

No you don't, Suho thinks, using his reflexes to bring his palm up next to Sieun's head, quickly slamming the door shut as soon as it opens. Not bad, he thinks smugly to himself, I've still got it. 

He meets Sieun's gaze, and catches a familiar look in his eyes. He's got that calculative stare again, and Suho feels an unintentional thrill shoot up his spine. He suddenly has a flashback to when Sieun first hauled an entire chair at him in class, and he snorts in amusement, cracking a little smile despite himself. That was pretty cute.

Suho, compelled by the memory, removes his palm from the door and uses it to lightly pat Sieun on his cheek. He watches the fat bounce, then pulls at it, unable to resist the temptation. Sieun's face scrunches in protest, but he lets it happen, gaze sinking somewhere past Suho's Adams apple. He's pouting, Suho observes, then brings his thumb and forefinger to the corners of his mouth, squeezing his lips together until they look funny.

Finally, indulgently and a little cheekily, Suho says, "Relax, will you? Hyung's not gonna eat you." 

That makes Sieun glare at him, slapping his affronting hand away. 

Suho takes a step back and brings his other hand up again to pull at Sieun's elbow, dislodging it from where it's stuck between the door and his side. "C'mon, it's probably really dead anyway. I can't do anything with it. Why, did you send me love letters while I was at war?" he teases, leaning a little closer to get the right angle, then clutching at Sieun's wrist with one hand and tearing the phone out of his reluctant grip with another.

"Whatever it is, don't even think of erasing it, or you're dead meat." Suho lightly raps Sieun's forehead with the corner of the phone while turning, shoving a hand back in his pocket and moving to sit back down in his cross-legged position. Standing for that long took the wind out of him—he feels a familiar twinge of annoyance then dismisses it, playing around with the phone in his hand instead, inspecting any damages. 

Sieun finally heaves a big sigh, decidedly gives up whatever internal battle he was fighting, and silently goes back to unpacking, refusing to look at Suho until Halmeoni calls them for dinner half an hour later. 

Later, after dinner:

"Sieun-ah, earlier, I was just joking. If it's that serious to you, I won't use my phone until you're ready. Or you can take it with you, delete whatever you want, then give it back. The password is—" 

"It's fine." Sieun interrupts, voice visibly strained. He sounds like he's forcing the words out. "Just use it." 

Chapter Text

“Sieun-ah!” Juntae calls out to him in the hallway, shuffling over as Sieun turns to look at him. 

“Yeah?”

They walk side by side, Juntae scrolling excitedly through his phone, seemingly looking for something, then he shoves it in Sieun’s face.

Sieun doesn’t quite know what he’s looking at, and the phone is too close to his face. He pushes it away a little bit, letting his vision adjust. He sees anime characters and a scanner code.

He looks back at Juntae. “What is this?”

“It’s tickets to the new Jujutsu Kaisen movie! Baku got it for us!” He excitedly exclaims, bouncing on each foot. Then he places a hand on Sieun’s shoulder, which Sieun tries to shrug off to no avail. “Sieun-ah, you can’t bail on us this time. Please.”

“I don’t really like—”

“Sieun-ah…” Juntae gets a sad, kicked-puppy look in his eyes. 

He sighs, and accepts defeat. 

“When is it?”

Meanwhile, at the same time, Suho gives his phone weary stares as he shifts around his room, moving things this way and that. It sits lonely on his desk, and when he finally goes to pick it up, its black screen reflects his shifty, indecisive expression. He’d plugged the charger into the wall earlier, yet has felt a weird reluctance to bring it back to life for a couple days now, remembering Yeon Sieun’s panicked expression every time.

This thing’s been in a coma longer than I have, he feels a brief twinge of sympathy for the inanimate object. No point in avoiding the inevitable.

He shuffles into his chair, kicking off his slippers and sitting cross legged on it, before picking the wire up haphazardly. 

Here goes.

He plugs it in. At first, the phone’s unresponsive. He begins to wonder if it gave out after all these years, then jumps a little bit when the logo appears. Phew. 

He pats it a couple times, lets it boot up in its own time, then goes back to arranging his room.

Sieun calls Halmeoni at the end of the school day and she puts Suho on the line. "What's up, Sieun-ssi?"

"Suho-ya, I'm watching a movie with my friends tonight."

Suho smiles and teases, "I'm feeling a little jealous, Sieun-ah. Which one?"

"Jujutsu Kaisen." A pause. "You want to come? It'll be late."

"Doesn't ring a bell. And nah, I'll get sleepy after physio, better not to push it." Suho scratches his brow, moving to make way for Halmeoni to get out of the kitchen when she bats at him. Sieun murmurs a soft 'yeah' in response. "You don't have to come over. Will you get home safe?"

Sieun hums.

Suho, "Okay, have a good time!"

A pause. Then, hesitantly, "You'll be okay?"

"You bet. Go have fun," Suho leans against the kitchen entrance, "Stop worrying."

"...Okay."

Later,

“You sure your Suho wouldn’t wanna come?” Baku checks with Sieun for the last time, wearing his 3D glasses and holding three huge bags of popcorn. 

Sieun nods affirmatively. “It’ll be late. He gets really tired from physiotherapy.”

“Whatever you say, friend. Ask him to join us next time!” 

Hyuntak and Juntae make their way over with the drinks, and they enter the theatre, Juntae and Baku yammering excitedly. 

It’s only by nighttime that Suho can give his phone any attention again. He’d gone out to help Halmeoni with groceries, needing some fresh air, then he’d come back, gotten through his physiotherapy exercises, taken a shower and finished dinner. 

He’d completely forgotten about it, so when he enters his room with a tired yawn and sees the thing on his table, he immediately pads over to it and unplugs it from the charger, lingering sleepiness suddenly dissipating.

He settles comfortably on his bed, hair still a little damp from the shower, and wakes it up. His old default wallpaper greets him. 

Suddenly, a strange feeling envelops him. Not quite nostalgia, nor melancholy, nor deja vu. 

He feels like the world that his phone fell asleep in is entirely different from the world it woke back up in. It’s a time capsule from the past. 

His eyes get slightly foggy. He distantly realizes that’s how he’s been feeling, ever since he woke up. 

The entire world moved, yet Ahn Suho and his phone remained stationary, stuck on the cold rubber floor of that boxing ring for a long time, even after its lights had long since shut off. 

He swallows against the lump in his throat. He feels a weird sensation run through him, feeling like the ghost of seventeen year old Ahn Suho awkwardly shoved into a body weathered by time. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it, or how to process it, and he wishes Sieun was by his side at this moment. If it weren’t for Sieun, he’s not quite sure how he would’ve coped upon waking up. He’s not sure he would’ve coped at all. 

Sieunie.

He holds his phone back up, heaves a deep sigh, mentally prepares himself for all the old memories to come flooding in, and unlocks it. 

It takes a while for everything to load in. Notifications, missed calls, messages, app notifications.

He stares, while the phone takes its time to catch up to the present day. 

The first thing he does after everything loads in is open his messaging app. He ignores Yeon Sieun’s tab at the very top for now, and he deletes everything else. He doesn’t bother reading any of them. Messages from people he didn’t really know, offering their condolences, go first. Then all the old chat logs he had with fellow high school classmates. He just blindly deletes, stuttering only briefly on the names of his old acquaintances, but he deletes those too.

He deletes the few contacts he used to have too, except for Sieun and Halmeoni.

Everything goes, except he pauses for a long time on Youngyi, contemplates, and decides to leave it as it is. He then begins deleting all his old apps.

Finally, when he’s done cleaning up his phone, and he’s set a new default wallpaper, he goes back into the messaging app. He looks at the time and realizes it’s been half an hour. 

He opens up Sieun’s chat. 

The last word of his last message to him is 'sorry'. 

He scrolls all the way up, and keeps scrolling, and keeps scrolling. It takes a long while to do so. His eyes widen more the further up he goes. His breath catches. Yeon Sieun…

After what seemingly felt like an endless scroll, he finally finds Sieun’s first message that he sent him post his coma, checking to see the date. He places it around three weeks after his hospitalization. 

The first words he sends to him are also 'I’m sorry'.

He sighs, feeling an ache in his chest, then begins reading. 

From: Yeon Sieun

I’m sorry.

Suho-ya. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault. I want to take it back. I’m sorry.

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya. It’s all a bad dream, isn’t it? I keep hallucinating you. Mom and Dad are scared, because I haven’t slept at all. But I keep losing you in my sleep too. I don’t want to sleep.

From: Yeon Sieun

I can't bear to visit you, but I can’t bear to be away from you. Seeing your halmeoni sitting by your side, I feel like dying. Please wake up soon. 

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, I had dropped a weight on Kang Wooyoung’s foot and smashed it to pieces. I only felt worse afterwards, because nothing will ever bring you back, even if I killed the bastard. I felt only emptiness. I felt only emptiness while I was staring down at Beomseok. I couldn’t hit him. I’m useless. I’m so angry at myself. I’m so angry at everyone. Tell me what I can do to bring you back.

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, why did you do that? Why did you have to be like that? I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. 

From: Yeon Sieun

I miss you

Suho doesn’t pay any heed to the tears that leak down the sides of his temples, pooling onto the pillow. 

He keeps reading, unable to tear his eyes away, and doesn't hear Halmeoni calling to him to check if he’s awake before puttering away, hallway light switching off. 

The messages eventually become lengthier, Sieun beginning to confide in his closest and only friend about the various happenings of his life.

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, I’m back. It’s been a long day. My therapist asked me if I feel guilty today. I looked at her (...)

From: Yeon Sieun

Some kid bumped into me and (...)

(...) At least everyone leaves me alone. I want to be left alone.

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, mom insists on me going abroad. Can you believe (...)

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, I was walking past an arcade that had a claw machine with plushies in it, and saw an arm pillow that looked just like yours. I wanted to see if I could try getting it, but it just wouldn’t come to me. I kept trying and trying with all the money I had, and when my money was over and I still couldn’t get the toy, I broke down in front of the claw machine. It was so embarrassing. I know that claw machines are a trap. But I still wanted it so badly.

An attendant ended up giving me the toy. But then I teared up again because it just wasn’t like the original one, and she got really flustered. It’s so pathetic, I thought you’d find it funny. I’ll let you have a laugh at my expense this time.

Suho lets out a little watery laugh, sniffling.

From: Yeon Sieun

You’re the only one who ever saw me. None of these people see me, not mom, not my therapist, not dad, not the kids or teachers at school. I wish I could be more like you, someone who can draw lines firmly, stand up for what they believe in, fight for what they believe in. I barely have energy to get through the day. I think you’re really cool.

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, the sleeping medicine doesn’t work, and (...)

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, I told a kid that he’s cowardly today, (...)

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, the kid’s name is Seo Juntae. I almost got into a fight, I don’t know what overcame me (...)

From: Yeon Sieun

Surprisingly, the magnesium that Seo Juntae gave me worked (...)

From: Yeon Sieun

I went to do volunteer work today with my friends. It wasn’t that bad (...)

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, I fought again today. I’m sorry. 

From: Yeon Sieun

Suho-ya, I vowed to myself that after this, no more fighting. I find it difficult to face you knowing that you wouldn’t like seeing me like this. But I hope you understand me. It’s okay if you don’t. I’ll understand. I’ll explain it to you in detail later. I’m sorry.

Suho gets to the last two messages. 

Suho-ya, (...) I told my friends more stories about you.

I feel scared of being distant from you.

(...)

I promise I’ll come back after exams are over. I’ll bring snacks.

Sorry.

When Suho finally puts down the phone, his nose is clogged, and his eyes hurt. He brings his hand up to wipe against his cheek, and his fingers come away with wetness. 

The full force of everything Yeon Sieun must have felt for the past two years hits him in an instant, and his vision goes blurry. So does everything else. His hearing, his sense of touch, his body in motion, all fade away, leaving nothing but his aching heart beating woefully against his ribcage, clawing at the seams, wanting to be let out. 

He barely registers himself stumbling through the quiet of his house, enveloped in darkness, Halmeoni fast asleep. He doesn’t register himself tugging on a random pair of shoes, slipping the keys from the stand. He doesn’t register flagging down a cab, either. 

He only comes to when he’s in front of Sieun’s old apartment. Realizes Sieun lives with his mom now. Then he sinks to the floor by the side of the door, confused, winded, and seventeen year old Ahn Suho unravels. 

The only thing to keep him company is the ceiling light that flickers against the dark of the night. 

His memories of Sieun the few weeks before he lost consciousness come crashing down on him in a tidal wave, and he feels the rawness of every memory as it flashes past, thinking of the pain, all the things left unsaid, both of them trying to protect each other by shielding everything from each other.

The memories that first came to him in the form of muddled, half-forgotten dreams, dulled out and faded as if belonging to someone else, floating in the depths of the deep sea, now flood through his brain as if it all happened just yesterday. It’s almost unbearable. He brings his arms up to cover his head against that unforgiving, raging tide, but he’s all too late, he’s drowning in it.

Suho might have slept the last two years away, but for Sieun, he felt every single waking moment. Every grating, painful instant. Every long, drawn-out second. He wonders what it would’ve been like for him if it was Sieun in that bed. The answer terrifies him down to his bones.

With his trembling hands, he dials Sieun’s number. Sieun picks up on the first ring. “Suho?”

“Sieun-ah,” he rasps, “Where are you?”

“I just reached home, I—”

“Your address, send it to me.”

“Why? Whatever it is, I’ll come to you, don’t—” 

“Yeon Sieun. Address.” his voice breaks on the last word. 

There’s a beat of silence, then, “I’ll text it to you.” before he goes to hang up, “Ahn Suho. Share your location.”

“Okay.”

He sees Yeon Sieun shuffling his feet by the ground floor elevator lobby, wearing his pajamas and house slippers, the lobby deserted in the late hours of the night. 

When Sieun spots him, he looks up, a frown on his face. “Suho-ya, you’ll worry Halmeo—”

Suho barrels towards him, placing a hand on either side of Yeon Sieun’s face, bumping foreheads, bumping noses, and backing him up until he hits the wall next to the elevator.

Sieun feels a gasp leave his body from the force of the impact. Suho closes his eyes, pressing against his forehead, as if trying to melt into him.

They stay still like that for a long moment, Suho breathing heavily. 

Finally,

“Sieun-ah, did it hurt a lot? Was it really lonely?”

His voice breaks.

“Was it unbearable?”

Suho pulls back, opening his eyes, looking at Sieun with nothing but raw pain etched into his face. Sieun’s heart falters.

“I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m sorry for being away from you.”

He pulls Sieun into a firm embrace, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. 

“I should’ve told you this earlier. I’m sorry for taking so long.”

Chapter Text

Sieun, in the warmth of Suho's embrace, having had those words said to him, slowly begins to shake like a leaf, silent, repressed sobs wracking through his body. Suho only holds him tighter, lets him slump his weight against him, lets his tears soak his shoulder, rubs Sieun's back comfortingly.

Eventually, the noiseless sobs fade into little hiccups.

Suho pulls back after squeezing Sieun tight, dislodges one of his arms and brings a hand up to caress Sieun's stained cheek, wiping away his remaining tears, then patting his hair, gently pushing it off his forehead and away from his watery eyes. 

A long moment later, Sieun's hands slowly lift up. He settles one against Suho's chest, clutching at his windbreaker, and the other comes to wipe at Suho's stray tear. He rolls his sleeve into his palm, dabbing away at Suho's cheek. The movement is stiff, awkward, a little clumsy, like it's his first time. It probably is. 

It's the sweetness of the gesture that makes Suho's heart only ache further. 

After a long moment of staring dopily into Sieun's puffy eyes, Suho winces.

"Sieun-ssi," 

"Hm?" 

"Hate to ruin the moment, but my knee hurts like a bitch right now," Suho finally groans, collapsing his weight against Sieun. 

Sieun's eyes widen in concern, then narrow from where his head is suddenly perched on Suho's shoulder. "Who asked you to come all the way here? Are you stupid?" 

"Yeah, for you," 

Sieun pushes him off, and he goes groaning, folding in half and clutching at his knee. "Ahhh," Sieun then bends over, grabbing his arm, "Are you okay?" 

Suho shoots him a finger heart, head still bowed and scrunched up in pain, which makes Sieun let out a curse, muttering an 'idiot' under his breath. "Sit down here. I'll get us a cab." 

"Us?" 

"I'm coming with you." 

"Hell yeah," Suho breaks off the end of his exclamation with a loud groan, stumbling over to the wall and sinking down with Sieun's help.

He looks up at Yeon Sieun, who's looking down at him with a murderous glare. "I'm going to kill you." 

Suho winks at him. "A man after my own heart." 

He watches fondly as Sieun stomps away. 

Later, in the cab, Suho stares at Sieun, who's sitting too far away from him, looking out the window, hands nervously fiddling in his lap. 

"Are you sure this is okay? Won't your mom worry?" 

Sieun sighs, shakes his head. "She isn't at home." 

"Then we could've—" 

Sieun rounds on him, and Suho startles from the sudden whip of Sieun's head. "Did you not think for a second about Halmeoni, how much pain she'd be in if she found your empty room?" 

Suho cringes. Sieun only glares at him harder. 

"You're right. I wasn't thinking. I won't do it again," 

Sieun's glare persists, thoroughly admonishing him with his eyes.

"Sorry." 

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Suho, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, finds himself cracking an amused smile. "Sieun-ah, should I call you hyung now?" 

"What?" Sieun frowns. 

"It's just that, I've been thinking, I'm still seventeen year old me, but you've become nineteen year old you, and you're more mature than I am," Suho sees Sieun's eyes roll, "I kinda felt like I should be calling you hyung when you were scolding me just now. Sieun-ah, you've grown up well. I'm moved." 

"Don't be unreasonable," Sieun mutters, "What does that even mean?" he looks into his lap, "As if seventeen year olds and nineteen year olds are all that different. You'll catch up soon."

"You think so?" 

Sieun hesitates, then, "Don't think about useless things." 

Suho reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind his ear, brazen and affectionate. "Alright, I won't." 

Sieun bats at his hand and turns away, the tips of his ears turning red again.

When they successfully sneak back into Suho's house, and find Halmeoni still fast asleep, their shoulders slump in relief. They tip-toe their way into Suho's room, and Suho starts stripping off his windbreaker, going to sit down on his bed. He kneads at his knee, the pain having faded on the way home.

Sieun hovers awkwardly above him. 

"Do you have an extra mattress?" 

Suho pauses, then scratches at his jaw. "Ah, yeah, but it's in my old room," 

Sieun moves to go sit on the floor. "I'll take the floor—" 

Suho quickly tugs him back, pulling him towards the bed, pushing him down to sit next to him with his other arm. 

"What are you—" 

"Why?" Suho interrupts, "We've shared a bed before, why so shy all of a sudden?" 

Sieun goes red in the face. "Let go." then, suddenly:

"Sieun-ah, I really want to hold you. Won't you let me?" 

Sieun freezes, breath caught, his pupils dilating in the low light of the bedside lamp. His mouth opens and closes. Suho continues, distraught, "I think I might go crazy if I can't. Will you take responsibility?"

He tugs. Sieun lets himself be maneuvered like a rag doll, slow to process the turn of events. "Come here, help me protect my sanity," he pats Sieun where he's lying down next to him now, pulling the blanket over both of them, tucking it around Sieun, "Good boy, you're being so good."

He wraps his arm around Sieun and pulls him close. Sieun stiffens. Suho happily rubs his face against his shoulder, hooks one leg over his, and settles, then falls asleep almost immediately. 

A couple minutes later, as Suho snores away, Sieun slowly returns to reality:

"What?" 

When Halmeoni sees Sieun drowsily puttering around the kitchen the next morning, she doesn't look all that surprised. "Ah, Sieunie, you're here?" 

Sieun bows. "Good morning, Halmeoni," 

Halmeoni returns his greeting with a smile. "Is Suho still asleep? Did both of you sleep well?" 

Sieun stutters, "Yeah, we slept well," 

Halmeoni hums, nods, "Sleep and food are the most important for growing kids like you. Tell me what you want for breakfast, and Halmeoni will make it for you." She comes to pat him on the arm affectionately. 

He lets a small smile slip out. "I'll wait until Suho wakes up. I just wanted some water." 

"Alright, dear," she busies herself with pouring out her morning herbal tea. 

Sieun grabs two glasses of water and goes back in, where he finds Suho sat up, still half-asleep, hair stuck out at odd angles. He yawns, then palms a hand down his face. "Sieun-ah, you're up? Oh, thank you," he gulps down the offered water, places the glass down by his bedside table, then pulls Sieun back into the bed. Sieun resists only half-heartedly, falling down with an 'oomph' half on top of Suho, then arranges his limbs so that he's lying next to him. 

Suho turns to face him, arm propped up. 

Sieun eyes him wearily. 

Suho breaks out into a soft smile. 

"I loved reading your thoughts. Can't you share those things with me more often?" Suho pleads, warm and gentle in the soft early morning light. "I want to know how your day went, your opinion on things, like how was the movie last night? Did you have fun? What flavour of popcorn did you eat? What did you drink? All those things, y'know?" 

Sieun suddenly wants to run away. Suho, sensing imminent movement, throws the weight of his arm over him and bears down. "Can't escape." 

Sieun stares at his arm, then reluctantly, "Good, yes, caramel butter, coke." 

Suho laughs. "Wow, thank you for sharing," he removes his arm, "well, I won't hold you at gunpoint, anyway. You do you." 

Sieun almost reaches back for the arm, his movements aborted. Suho raises a brow at him. Suddenly, Sieun rigidly sits up, his back to Suho, and shares, "I thought you'd have enjoyed it. I didn't really understand some of it, but the main characters were cool. There was lots of action. We can go see it together, I don't mind watching it again." He plays with the hems of his sleeves, self-conscious.

Suho melodramatically collapses into his pillow with a loud groan, hiding his endeared grin. Sieun looks back at him, startled. 

Suho, voice muffled and sounding breathless, says, "I'd really like that. No," he suddenly gets up, making Sieun jump a little. "I'd love that, Sieun-ah. Let's do it." 

Sieun gives him a small half-smile. He returns it tenfold. 

Later, as they’re eating breakfast, Suho asks with a mouthful, “Sieun-ah, have you heard about Youngyi since then?”

Sieun looks at him with slight disgust. “Can you chew before speaking?”

“Ah, right,” Suho says before tamping his mouth shut, chewing obediently. He remembers what Sieun had recounted to him in the hospital regarding everything that went down late one night, when neither of them could sleep, and hopes he can meet Youngyi.

Sieun takes a moment to pull over a side dish, then, “I haven’t spoken to her in a long time, but we met once since everything happened.”

Suho nods, swallowing. “That’s a relief. Is she doing okay?”

Sieun hesitates, then shakes his head. “I don’t know. When we met, she… She was pretty resigned. She still blames herself for everything, I think. Then she stopped responding to my texts and picking up my calls.”

“Think I’ll spook her if I suddenly call her from my number?”

Sieun levels him with a flat stare. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Suho, in the midst of imagining this funny scenario with a growing smirk, starts pouting. “Sieun-ah, you wound me,”

Sieun rolls his eyes. 

The next evening, 

Sieun studies in the living room as Suho does his exercises, Halmeoni knitting in the corner chair. The only noise that interrupts the peaceful silence are the soft sounds of a page turning, needles clacking against each other, and Suho’s occasional grunts. Suho takes a moment to soak in the peace as he slumps onto the floor, toweling his face, then unlocks his phone, rubbing at his right knee unconsciously. 

“Sieun-ah, I texted Youngyi, but I think she thought it was a prank and blocked my number or something,” Suho says, forlorn.

Sieun snorts. “What did you text her?”

“‘Youngyi, it’s Suho. You better come see me quick’.” Suho reads, then looks up at Sieun to see him staring back, disbelieving. “What?”

“That’s what you texted her?” Suddenly, Sieun’s phone pings next to him. He unlocks it distractedly, then focuses when he sees it’s Youngyi who’s sent him a message. “Hey,” he gestures to Suho. “What? Is it Youngyi?” Suho makes his way over.

He opens it, and both of them peer at the text. 

It’s a screenshot of Suho’s message to her, with just a ‘?’ as the caption. 

Underneath the message, the app notification reads ‘This user has been blocked’.

Suho and Sieun look at each other, then Suho snorts. Sieun smiles despite himself, then presses call.

The next day, in the basketball club room, Sieun's phone starts ringing from where it's propped on one of his textbooks.

Sieun sees that it's Suho calling from the corner of his eye, and wonders why it looks different than usual. Then he realises that his selfie camera is on. Then he realises it's a video call, from Suho.

He freezes, watching it vibrate and ring out while his mouth slowly goes dry.

Hyuntak, passing by, "Aren't you gonna pick that up?" 

Baku, behind him, "Who is it, tsunie?"

A gasp.

His phone is picked up by grubby hands. Sieun makes a small noise of protest, reaching out, but Baku pulls it away too quickly and answers, voice booming, "Yo, Ahn Suho! Good blooming day to you, my friend!" 

There's radio silence, then, "Ah, Baku-ya, is Sieunie not there?" 

Another beat of silence. 

Sieun hears Baku's beleaguered sigh and sees his back hunch in disappointment. "Always Sieunie this, Sieunie that. Never hi Baku, how are y—hey, give it back—Go Hyuntak!" 

Hyuntak clicks his tongue in irritation and hands the phone back over to Sieun, who cradles it in both his hands gingerly, slowly bringing it up to his face. He's curious, but feels out of his depth. No one has ever really video called him before like this. "Can you hear me?" 

"Ah, it's Sieunie!" He sees Suho's little smile, and mirrors it back. "Sieun-ssi," Suho laughs, "I can only see your forehead and your beady eyes right now. Tilt the phone a little towards you. That's right. Move it a little further away. Perfect." 

Sieun, holding the phone at an awkward angle, starts getting flustered. "Why do you want to see my face? It's a waste of data. Call back on regular mode."  He goes to hang up, but then Suho interrupts, "Wait, wait—ah, I have something to show you. Don't hang up!" 

He points the camera towards a flat-faced Youngyi, twirling her hair in boredom, her eyes suspiciously puffy. Her hair is shorter now, her bangs grown out and framing her face in choppy waves. It suits her. She brightens immediately upon seeing Sieun, waving an excited hi. Sieun returns it. “Yeon Sieun! You look as pretty as ever!”

“Hey,” he hears Suho protest in the background, “how come you didn’t say that to me? I feel hurt, seriously,” he turns back the camera to himself, “this blatant favoritism, you see this, Sieun-ah?”

There’s noises of a struggle, then Youngyi comes back into the frame. “Sieun-ah, I only met this idiot so that I can see you again without wanting to kill myself,” there’s some more commotion, and a couple cuss words. “Sieun-ah, call me!” he hears a muffled voice, Suho looking like he’s choking someone out. “I spent two years in a coma for this?!” then, “Well, who texts someone like that aft—”

The call ends abruptly. 

Sieun cracks an amused smile. 

Hyuntak, having witnessed the chaos of the video call, whistles when he sees the expression on Sieun’s face. “Yeon Sieun, who’s the girl? You got a crush?”

Both Sieun and Baku level him with flat looks of disbelief. 

“What?!”

“Go Hyuntak,” Baku sighs, “You really can be such a fucking dunce.”

Chapter Text

“Youngyi-ya, I’m hurt.” Suho sighs, a few minutes after ending the video call with Sieun.

Youngyi pauses, noodles halfway to her mouth. “What is it?” 

As soon as they’d met and made eye contact, Youngyi had taken one look at him, her eyes widening, and immediately turned around and started power walking in the opposite direction, a hand raised to wipe at her face. Suho had to chase her down, finally getting her to stop about a hundred meters later, wincing as his knee jolted in pain. 

When she’d finally turned and noticed his pained face, she’d flown into hysterics and had given him a good shelling about how he ‘shouldn’t be running, why did he run, why is he so stupid and an idiot’, and then promptly burst into snotty tears. When he’d remarked, “You are such an ugly crier,” she had given him a whack on his chest and pulled him into a tight hug, and whispered, “I’m glad you’re alive and kicking, Ahn Suho.”

She'd sat down with him at a nearby convenience store and painfully recalled everything from her perspective when he'd asked, Suho fighting the acid rage bubbling in his throat by the end, silent and withdrawn, staring for a while out of the window into the busy street. Then, slowly, they'd caught up with each other, Youngyi updating him on the last two years of her life—that she'd broken ties, that she'd found kind people—and Suho had listened intently, then wanted Sieun to see Youngyi's face, wanted him to see that she's doing good, so he'd called him.

They were now sitting side by side, slurping on convenience store ramyeon. 

Suho continues, pouting almost childishly, “I’m upset, because you didn’t keep Sieunie company.”

He takes another big chunk of noodles and shoves it into his mouth. Youngyi lowers her chopsticks. “Suho-ya,” 

When he looks over, her expression is pained. “You think I could’ve done that?" He frowns. "When I met Yeon Sieun afterwards, he looked like his entire world had completely fallen apart. And I’d been the cause of that. If I hadn’t answered the phone that day, then Beomseok wouldn’t have—have—and he told me it’s all because I came in between—” Suho’s blood starts boiling.

“What bullshit are you on about? You actually believe that shit?”

“Ahn Suho—” she starts to raise her voice, but he interrupts coldly, “How is someone else’s inability to deal with their insecurities your responsibility?”

Her expression crumbles.

“Answer me. Why are you so quick to blame yourself for everything? This isn’t the Youngyi I know.” She stays silent. He clenches his jaw. “I didn’t come here to hear this.” Suho gets up to leave, leaving his noodles half-eaten, pissed and suddenly needing fresh air to calm down. Fucking Beomseok.

“Suho, wait—”

He bursts out of the convenience store, door rattling, and this time, she’s the one chasing him.

“Suho-ya!”

He stubbornly picks up his pace, stomping even harder, ignoring his knees crying in warning, all the while Youngyi continuously curses and asks him to stop. He manages to make it all the way down the street, when suddenly, his knee gives out, and he buckles under the pain. Youngyi shouts in horror, “Ahn Suho!” she rushes over, stumbling over her words, “Fuck, can you stop already? I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

He stumbles over to an alleyway, slumping against the wall, clutching his knee, her yammering fading into the background as his ears ring from the pain.

Youngyi falls to her knees beside him, hands hovering over his leg, panicked and blubbering through her tears, “It’s not my fault, okay? It’s not my fault, I know now, I get it, don’t walk away, don’t—”

Suho blinks back his own tears of pain, and grabs Youngyi by the shoulder, wincing, “Okay, okay. I get it.”

She takes a moment to breathe, coughing and sniffling.

Both of them stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Shit, what makjang drama do we think we’re in?” Youngyi says through her laughter, “Actor Ahn Suho, cut! Top notch performance.” She giggles childishly, and Suho grins at her. “Actor Youngyi deserves a grand award for the cryfest,” He imitates her scrunched up expression, voice straining high-pitched, “Aaah, Ahn Suho, don’t walk away, waaah—” he receives a punch to the throat, and he coughs. 

She comes to sit by his side, pulling her knees up.

Suho clears his throat, tightening his hand against his knee, suddenly feeling anxious. “Youngyi-ya,” she looks up, wiping at her nose. 

“Can you not tell Sieunie about this?”

He receives another solid thwack to his head.

Later,

They make their way to the hospital, Youngyi immediately whipping out her phone and calling Sieun to let him know of the situation. Suho accepts his fate, hoping Sieun doesn’t get too homicidal about it.

Youngyi barrels into Sieun in the waiting room later, and hangs off his arm as they walk over to Suho. “—And so, I think to myself, the fucking nerve, this idiot wants to hide things from you after everything you’ve been through? Has he lost brain cells in his coma? So I get my phone out and call you immediately, Sieun-ah—” 

Youngyi fades into the background as Suho preparedly meets Sieun’s eyes, giving him his most lovelorn, pitiful, affection-starved, kicked-puppy stare.

Sieun hits him with a thousand-yard glare, like he’s going to punt Suho off the nearest cliff.

I’m so dead.

Suho swallows nervously, and decidedly ignores his heart excitedly skipping a beat. 

After a brief consultation with the doctor, and one x-ray later, it’s chalked out to be a knee sprain. He’s instructed to rest and ice it, and is given a knee brace and a new set of simple and light stretches to heed recovery. Sieun hands him a pair of crutches, and Suho sulks about it the entire way out of the hospital.

Needing a break, Suho hops over to the bench, nudging Sieun and saying, “For old times’ sake?”

Sieun’s face twitches. “It was only a week ago.”

Suho cringes, then starts sulking again. 

“What are you pulling a face for? You did this to yourself,” Sieun murmurs flatly. 

Youngyi tacks on, “Yeah, fool.”

Suho glowers, still a little irritated with her, and plops onto the bench heavily. “Well, if a certain someone hadn’t run for their life when they saw me—”

“I wasn’t running, I was power walking—”

“So? I still had to strain my poor knee trying to catch up with your fleeing ass—”

“You sprained it, not strained it, go back to school and learn the difference!”

Sieun feels the energy rapidly drain out of him, regretting having sat between the two, and their unusually sharp bickering. 

Suddenly, Youngyi’s phone rings. She rudely holds up a hand to Suho’s face while fishing it out, and he sputters, affronted. 

She answers her phone, and then in a sickeningly cute tone of voice, goes: “Unnie, what’s up?” 

Sieun and Suho both stare at her. 

She goes red and turns to face away from them.

“Nothing, unnie just worries unnecessarily,” she continues, voice lowered, twirling her hair.

Suho and Sieun exchange baffled looks. Sieun’s mouth twitches.

Suho gags.

Youngyi decides to leave for the day, citing her roommate’s concern as it’s near sunset, and then gives Sieun a long, warm hug as she gets up to go. “Keep in touch, Sieun-ah,” she says, leaning against his chest, and trying not to squirm, he pats her on the back awkwardly and nods, “You too.”

Suho stares. “Yeah, yeah, why don’t you two just marry each other too while you’re at it? Leave me and my knee to rot.”

She rolls her eyes as they detach, Sieun sighing and waddling back over to sit next to him. “No thanks, I'm no homewrecker.” 

"What's that mean?" She comes to stand in front of Suho and ruffles his hair, ignores him and says, “Missed ya.”

He looks up at her, and sees her eyes all misty. He groans. “Never mind, please leave, no more ugly crying.”

She huffs, curls the hand in his hair into a fist and bonks him, then stomps off.

“And remember to unblock me on KakaoTalk!” he calls after her, “Youngyi-ya, you hear me?!” 

She raises her middle finger without looking back.

“What a riot.” Suho says, once her retreating back is no longer visible.

He sees Sieun giving him a long stare, and knowing what’s coming, Suho actively avoids eye contact, observing the scenery with keen interest instead. He notes the sun slowly lowering in the sky, the warm breeze rustling through the trees, the hospital staff on break giggling in a corner, sipping their evening coffee.

He's felt an odd sense of nostalgia all day, catalyzed by meeting Youngyi. Those feelings mix with the pain of recollecting the past, first having gotten Sieun's perspective on everything that went down, then Youngyi's today. Their recollections and feelings bleed into his own memories, making them feel all the more visceral in his head. He feels shifty, restless.

When he sees Sieun opening his mouth in his periphery, he steels himself. But instead of getting berated like he expected, he’s hit with a question he couldn’t have predicted: 

“Why aren’t you asking me?” 

Suho’s brows pull together, and he turns to look at Sieun, about to say the words, asking you about what?

Then realization sets in, and he turns his gaze back out into the plush green lawn. He sees a nurse push an old man on his wheelchair, talking and laughing with him about something as he points to a flower growing in a bush. She goes to pick it up and gives it to him with a warm smile. 

He hums, contemplating his answer. “Thing is, I’ve had a lot of time to think,” he absentmindedly rubs at the back of his neck, “I’ve been reading those messages over and over, the last few days,”

He sees Sieun’s face scrunch up in his periphery. 

“I just want to know one thing, though. Is it over? Is it water under the bridge?”

Sieun looks at him, and he looks back, feeling a strange resistance when he tries to make eye contact. He's not sure if it's from his end, or Sieun's end.

Sieun nods. “Yeah, it is.”

“You’re unhurt? Your friends are unhurt?” 

Sieun pauses, then nods slowly.

Suho nods to himself as well, looking away again, voice coming out unintentionally curt, “Well, I trust that you’ll tell me the rest when you’re ready.”

Suho realizes he’s holding himself rigidly and tries to loosen up his tightly wound shoulders. He’s coming from a place of truth, but he hides the fact that a big part of him is scared to know, and doesn't want to imagine Sieun in pain and in danger without him to be there to protect him, shield him. He’s also scared that he’ll snap at him, or fly into a rage, get mad at Sieun, hurt him with his words. He doesn’t want to resent Sieun for something he doesn’t have control over, all because of his own narrow-sightedness. Everything that happened to them, between them, is still an open wound for him, a wound that’s festering the more clarity sets in, building up over time. He feels like a ticking bomb, restless with explosive tension, vibrating at the seams. He doesn’t want Sieun to be anywhere in the vicinity when the bomb eventually explodes. 

He suddenly feels a deep, woeful sadness overcome him, mixed with a splintering pain and yearning so deep it takes him by surprise. He tries to locate the cause, finally trying to search inside himself for answers he’s not sure he’s even ready for, trying to place that deep-seated sorrow and yearning and grief that he's felt since he woke up, that only amplified when he remembered Sieun's name. He can't seem to figure it out, and he tries to will his mind to find the answer, but then suddenly: he looks up at the sky, and there it is, waiting for him.

Sieun stares at him for a long time, as if trying to understand, parsing through the complicated expression on his face. Finally, having reached a conclusion, he looks down into his lap, fiddling with his—Suho’s—windbreaker, guilt shadowing his face. He doesn’t look back up for a while, until he hears Suho gasp beside him, and sees him staring into the sky in a daze.

It’s golden hour, and everything is bathed in a gorgeously vibrant golden glow. Suho looks up at the aqua blue sky, sees the dust particles floating lightly in the air, the rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds, and suddenly, he’s right back in that warm, beautiful dream—with the deep voice, and the surreal, glowing light. His heartbeat picks up, his hands start to shake, and he looks over at Sieun, who’s staring at him inquisitively and trying to search his eyes, bathed in that same warm glow.

Then, 

“Suho-ya?”

Found you, Suho thinks breathlessly, finally locating Sieun’s voice that called to him over and over, realizing that it was from right by his bedside, all those late nights that Yeon Sieun would spend next to him, calling out his name. Suho almost hysterically realises that he could hear, he could remember, and his sleeping body would look for him even through his unconsciousness, as he called out to him. His body would feel his presence, mourn his absence, and lie in wait for him. 

Feeling his heartbeat in his throat, a sudden dizziness overcomes him, rendering him lightheaded and weak in the knees. Feeling like he’s on the cusp of a great wave, he watches from outside his body, sees the buildup of that tsunami, past the trees in the distance, slowly enveloping the setting sun and taking on its volcanic hues. 

On seemingly just another day, knee in a brace, crutches by his side, with the backdrop of distant laughter and the sound of the breeze lightly rustling the leaves behind them, he realizes. All his memories with Yeon Sieun rush through—his watery eyes, his lonesome back as he sat by himself in class, the first time he smiled at him, his hand hiding behind his hoodie. Suho remembers his resolute will, even as he was battered, hurt, remembers thinking, I'd do it all again for you, I'd do it all again for you.

He looks back over at Yeon Sieun, and sees his wild expression reflected in his deep, sun-kissed eyes, as they catch on the golden light, and the only thought in his head is, I want to drown in you.  

Then, seconds before impact, cresting over the horizon,

I’m in love with you.

The wave hits the shore with a crashing roar, deep, primordial and heady.

Chapter Text

And as all waves do, it recedes, right back into the vast ocean that it came from, a bleak twilight marking its withdrawal, the light of the sunset softly dispersing in the hours between the dog and the wolf*.

After drowning in that tsunami, Ahn Suho is left choking on the water, washed up on the shore, and the water recedes and recedes, until he's in a desert of his own making, no sign of life in sight.

Suho goes blank, and only comes to when Sieun waves a confused hand in front of his face, frowning. Slowly, his clogged ears clear of the seawater, and Sieun's muffled voice slowly comes back into focus, "—you okay? Suho-ya, is everything—" 

Suho stands up suddenly, too sudden, and Yeon Sieun nearly jumps. 

"Oh, yeah, uh," his own voice sounds alien to him, "it's late, and Halmeoni's going to be worried, so better head back now," 

He nearly forgets his knee problem, until he leans his weight on it and the pain shoots up his leg. Even the pain registers distantly, as he grabs his crutches, eyes unfocused, mind still writhing somewhere on the now-darkened sandy shores. 

"—ho-ya, Suho-ya, can you hear me?" He feels Sieun's hesitant grip on his arm, reflexively tries to shrug it off, and he feels Sieun's arm slip away. Then, Yeon Sieun is in front of him, trying to meet his gaze. He looks somewhere, anywhere, everywhere else. 

"I said, I already told Halmeoni," 

"Oh, yeah? Thanks, Sieun-ah," he mutters, before pushing past, eyes on the ground. 

Sieun stares at his back, utterly confused, and bewildered, then grabs his bag and follows. 

Suho stops by the side of the road where there are cabs lined up, opens the door of the first one he can reach, then looks back at Sieun, looks at some random pattern on his windbreaker, and robotically says, "I think you should go straight home tonight. I've troubled you a lot," 

"Suho-ya—" 

"You must've rushed all the way after coming back from school, go home and rest, I'll see you next time—" 

"Was it meeting Youngyi?" Sieun's hands come to fiddle at the hem of his windbreaker nervously, right where Suho is staring, and he feels his heart wrench at the sight, so he closes his eyes, faces away and lies: "Yes." 

"... Okay. At least—share your location." 

Suho nods. 

"Get home safe." 

Suho nods.

He gets into the cab, and numbly goes all the way back home, in morose silence. 

He forgets to share his location.

Suho walks into his house with his crutches, limping, sees Halmeoni waiting in the entrance corridor, worry etched across her face. He looks at her for a long moment, before throwing his crutches off to the side and barreling into her. 

"Halmeoni," he burrows his face into her shoulder, hunched over, and the tears start silently leaking, but she holds him steady, consoling him.

"Suho-ya, does it hurt a lot?" 

He nods, his heart tearing itself at its seams for a thing as simple as beating. "It hurts a lot." 

She rubs a hand comfortingly down his back. 

"Is it unbearable?" 

"It's unbearable." 

"Then you have to be careful, and be patient," she pulls back, caressing his tear stricken face, "take care of it, be gentle with it, so that it heals." 

Halmeoni wipes his tears gently, patting his cheeks affectionately.

Nineteen year old Ahn Suho, whose reality had entirely shifted in the span of an hour, whose world was tilted off its axis, who was lying limp on those dry shores, desperate for that familiar sea but suddenly terribly scared of it, begins to remember what love is in his Halmeoni's warm embrace. He slowly feels the world reorient itself again, and his heartbeat slow down to a soft patter. 

He closes his eyes. He only sees Yeon Sieun. 

He opens them, and then he nods.

"I will." 

Suho enters his room, gently closes the door with a click, then sinks to the floor right in front of it, the energy draining from his limbs.

His eyes land on the bed, and he remembers the way he held Yeon Sieun to sleep just a few days ago, only a few feet away, and he somehow feels like he was an entirely different person, then.

Someone with the naivety of a child driven by the whims of his heart, he thinks. Someone who didn't fully know or understand himself yet.

Suho brings the palms of his hands up to rub at his stinging eyes, trying to get clarity in his muddled brain. 

He tries to dig deeper, tries to not be afraid, tries to become Ahn Suho again.

Looking back, it isn't all that surprising to him. It's not so much shock and surprise that hits him, rather, the overwhelming intensity of emotion that had been bubbling under the surface this entire time, biding its time while he was asleep, waiting for the right moment to erupt once he awoke. And the newness of having labelled it, acknowledged it, put a name to it, the awkwardness of having to make a new home for it in his mind, after it lived for so long in his heart that only knows how to feel. 

Yeon Sieun was never only his best friend, nor was he only ever his first romantic interest. Describing him as one or the other, or even both, will never sound quite right ever again, he realizes.

Yeon Sieun was always his person. 

He thinks back to when he first noticed Sieun, when he went from peripheral to center focus in his life. When he'd noticed the bookworm who was always first in class, tilted his head in curiosity at the lonely sight of his back, hunched over his books, no friends, no life in his eyes, no nothing. Just a tired, blank expression on his face, day in, day out. His heart had felt the first tug back then. He didn't really have friends either. He wanted to approach him, to see if they were twin flames, somehow.

He was just fascinated, at first. He'd secretively watch him during his waking moments, head pillowed on his pink arm cushion, squinting, trying to figure him out like he was a puzzle no one could dream of solving. Almost unconscious, fleeting glances when they’d pass by each other in the hallway, by the schoolgate, in the cafeteria. Then, when he'd knocked his pencil case over during that fight, and Yeon Sieun pinned that heavy gaze on him, properly for the first time, and he'd felt something move in his chest, looking down at those endlessly deep eyes, defiant and unmoved.

When Yeon Sieun had erupted on Youngbin's gang with the full force of his inner rage, calculative, angry, surprisingly resourceful—Suho had watched in rapt, unmoving, almost voyeuristic silence at first, convinced that he was in some odd, lingering dream where Youngbin finally had his karmic dues handed to him by an angel of destruction. He'd watched as the threads of Yeon Sieun snapped, watched as he spiraled deeper into that endless pit of chaos and resentment, and had pulled him out, unflinching, drily announcing himself as his guardian angel.

And then when Yeon Sieun turned that eruption on him, had thrown a pencil case, then a chair at his face, he saw that unhinged but calculative rage burning almost uncontrollably in his otherwise indolent, empty eyes, and suddenly, his heart was hooked and tethered to him, endeared to him, unbeknownst to either of them. 

Suddenly, Yeon Sieun felt as deep as the ocean, and as vast as the sky, and as fiery as a volcano. You'd have to climb all the way up to his gaping maw, lean in to see the hot lava boiling beneath the surface, waiting to erupt, waiting to be seen, yet completely untouchable. 

All of this, bottled up in a dull-eyed boy, starved of love and attention, lonely and sad, fighting to survive. 

Suho saw that boy, and his heart only wanted to care for him and look out for him. No more, no less.

A fascinating, almost unfairly beautiful person. Falling into him was natural, the way a baby's first steps are. Ahn Suho clumsily stumbled his way into it, the only way he knew how, a teenager unaware of the machinations and depth of his own heart, but feeling its guiding pull in his chest for the very first time, wanting to follow, even to his own ruin. Just for a chance to see himself reflected in those endlessly pitch black blown-out eyes one more time.

And so, wanting to be Sieun's friend was natural. 

Feeling the need to protect and defend Sieun was natural.

Wanting to teach him how to fend for himself was natural. 

Wanting to spend time with him, taking him for late night rides on his delivery bike was natural.

Wanting to see him smile again, and be the reason for that smile, it was also natural. 

Wanting to be close, closer, closest to him was also natural.

Going to the ring to fight for him, to avenge him, was natural. 

Waking up from his coma, thinking that he'd do it all over again, it was natural. 

Holding him, caring for him, it was natural, it was easy, and his heart ached and yearned for it.

Suddenly, he feels a deep pit of anxiety at having to face him again, knowing these truths about himself.

Suho wants to stop thinking all of a sudden. He gets up, nearly losing balance, straightens his crutches, wobbles all the way to his bed and faceplants straight onto it, ignoring the distant ping of his phone, discarding it onto the mat somewhere.

He dreams of the blue-gold skies, the rays of light, of Yeon Sieun's voice, of the fiery tsunami cresting over the shore. 

He yearns.

And passes out for ten hours straight. 

In the dead of the night, his phone pings again, and the screen lights up in the darkness:

From: Yeon Sieun (2) 

Suho-ya, I'm not sure why you left so suddenly like that, but I hope you feel better soon, don't strain (...) 

Suho-ya, there's an ice pack already in the freezer, bought it in case your muscles gave you trouble, make sure (...)

Ahn Suho opens his eyes in the morning, and starts hysterically laughing. 

It's so sudden, and so loud, that the bird outside his window jumps in fright and takes off, and Halmeoni startles where she's pouring out her herbal tea.

He rubs a hand down his face. "Ahn Suho, you stupid fool," he mutters to himself. 

Ahn Suho, all of nineteen years old, realized just yesterday that he's in love with his best friend. The identity all at once feels incredibly alienating, and also like coming home and taking off your shoes. The disbelieving laughter quiets down, and he buries himself in his pillow. 

And childishly, he wants to go back to the Suho that was blissfully unaware, innocently excited, heart on his sleeve, because now he's all too aware, having an identity crisis, all of seventeen-nineteen fuck-all years old. Then he decides halfway through that it's not like himself to have an identity crisis, and sits up, sees his phone on the mat, and reaches for it. 

And decides to try living in this new, bewildering reality.

His new life isn't off to the best start. 

Staring at the message on his unlocked phone, he quickly finds that this is harder than anticipated. 

From: Yeon Sieun

7:46 PM 

Suho-ya, there's an ice pack already in the freezer, bought it in case your muscles gave you trouble, make sure to use it. Don't forget to ice your knee. You'll be in unnecessary pain otherwise. 

Don't get hurt, and don't be in pain. 

If you need to talk, I'm here.

From: Yeon Sieun

3:02 AM

Suho-ya, I'm not sure why you left so suddenly like that, but I hope you feel better soon, don't strain yourself. 

I'm beginning to wonder if it was something I did, but I can't seem to think of anything. If you're upset because I wasn't telling you about the fighting, then let’s meet later and I'll tell you. It's okay. I don't mind.

Take care of your knee well. Don't worry Halmeoni too much. 

Ah, Yeon Sieun, that's way too fucking heart-fluttering. 

Suho, feeling his chest squeeze tight at the sweetness, feeling like absolute crap about the way he left him like that yesterday, suddenly throws his phone onto the bed, then immediately picks it back up and decides to hit the call button. 

Yeon Sieun picks up on the third ring. Suho frowns, briefly looking at the time on his phone, and realising it's 6:40AM.

"Suho-ya?" Sieun's sleepy voice comes through. Fucking hell, it's so cute. 

"Mm, Sieun-ah, did I wake you?" His voice comes out fond and indulgent. Has he always sounded like this? He starts feeling the hysteria rise in his throat. This is his fourth existential crisis in the past twelve hours. He almost slaps himself out of it.

"No," a pause, "yeah, but it's okay. Is everything fine?"

"It's all fine," Suho says, except it's really not, and he wants to cry all of a sudden, and realizes that he really cannot bear to live in this new reality. Still, he gets the words out, unable to bear the thought of Sieun losing sleep worrying over him, "I'm sorry for yesterday. After meeting Youngyi... The emotions just hit me suddenly. I didn't mean to make you worry. It didn't have anything to do with you, promise," Liar.

"Mm, okay, is your knee better?" 

"It's okay. It's better. I’ll go ice it now. Have a good day at school, okay?" He waits for Sieun's sleepy affirmative before hanging up.

And just like that, Ahn Suho starts becoming a pathological liar, on top of being in love with his best friend. Great.

Suho, in the middle of his room later in the day, newly showered, towel slung around his neck, hair dripping, stands still as a statue as his fifth existential crisis hits him. 

If he loses Yeon Sieun, what will become of poor old him? After all this, if he loses him, what would happen to him, because of his own recklessness, his own selfish desire? The panic seizes him, and it paralyzes him, and he chokes on it, chokes on those coarse grains of sand.

Just like that, he boldly gives up on living in his new reality, and takes a decisive step right back into the old one. 

Except it's not the same, and he's now a round nail trying desperately to fit into a square hole, and that new feeling starts getting a little too comfortable in its new home.  

He still wants to try, regardless. 

"Youngyi, you gay?" 

"No, you are." 

"Yeah." 

Youngyi pauses from where she's rifling through the chip aisle of the convenience store, and turns to look at Suho. "...Oh. You were being serious." 

Suho scratches his nose and clears his throat. 

"Yeah, I'm gay, well—bi, to be exact. For your information." 

"Oh, sweet." 

"Yeah, it is."

There's a brief silence where she goes back to searching, and casually asks, "So you're gay?" 

Suho shifts so that his body angles towards her a little more and fiddles with random cans in the opposite aisle, not really caring to see what the labels are, just needing something to do with his hands. 

He thinks about his answer for a while. 

"I mean, I guess. I used to think I felt something for the girls I'd take out on dates, and that's how everyone feels, but that's seriously nothing compared to how I feel about—" he abruptly pauses, stopping short, embarrassingly faces those cans and still doesn’t read a thing. 

"Yeon Sieun."

He suddenly whips around, finding her looking at him smugly. He briefly feels a surge of annoyance, resists the urge to crush her like a can, and sighs in defeat. "Yeah." 

She pats his shoulder, and says cryptically, "We've all been there, man," 

He stares in confusion as she begins to walk off. "What—with Yeon Sieun?" He trails after her, grabbing his crutches. She starts skipping. "Youngyi-ya, with Yeon Sieun? Hey!" 

"You don't have to define it, you know, if that's what's bothering you," She chews loudly on her chips where they're sitting on the steps of some random streetside building, and offers some to him. 

He digs in, the plastic rustling, comes away with a handful, and shrugs. "I'm fine with being gay."

He leans back and throws a chip into his mouth.

Youngyi looks at him with newfound awe, slowly giving him a thumbs up. "Wow, Ahn Suho, you're really cool." 

He makes a face at her. She makes a face back.

"Anyway, the problem is Yeon Sieun," 

She blinks. "Why is Yeon Sieun a problem?" 

"He just is." 

Youngyi rolls her eyes at him. "You're just scared." 

"Am not!" He is. Terrified, actually. 

"Ha, scaredy cat." 

He chokes her out. 

When Sieun comes over in the evening, and Suho stares at him for a beat longer than usual, something odd glinting in his eyes, he tilts his head in confusion.

Ahn Suho doesn’t say anything, just hobbles over to him where he’s awkwardly standing in the entrance corridor, looks him in the eyes, then pulls him into a soft hug. 

Sieun lets himself be hugged, arms limp by his side, head leaning against his shoulder.

“Why?”

“Nothing.” Suho smiles, as if having decided something final in his heart, and resolute, he steps back. 

“Come in.”

Chapter Text

As May rolls around and spring takes on a little bit of warmth, late one afternoon, Suho gets a call as he’s sitting on the floor helping Halmeoni make a new batch of cabbage kimchi, knee propped up on a pillow. He wipes the side of his sweaty face with his sleeve, then leans in to check—it’s from an unknown number.

He hesitates, then removes a glove and picks it up, and is hit with a nervous: “Hello, is this Ahn Suho? It’s Seo Juntae speaking!” 

Having forgotten entering his number into Juntae’s phone, Suho takes a moment, then, “Ah! Hi, Juntae-ssi.”

He hears some noise on the other end, then Juntae goes, “Sieunie said you’d got your phone back, so I thought I’d try calling. I hope you’re doing well!” 

“I am, and you?” 

“I am!" some rustling, then, "Suho-ssi, we’re thinking of throwing a birthday party for Sieunie.”

Suho smiles. “Ah, really?”

“Yeah,” he can almost hear Juntae’s enthusiastic nods, “at first, we were thinking of holding it in the basketball club room since it falls on a Monday, but then we thought it would be nice for you to be there too, so we’re planning for Sunday evening.”

Suho hums, and thinks. At first, he was planning to surprise Sieun with a birthday cake and decorate his place a little bit, celebrate the eve of his birthday together, and maybe invite Youngyi, but now he wonders if it would be selfish to want to keep Sieun all to himself now that he has other friends too. He wars with his conflicted heart. 

“Suho-ssi, are you there?”

Suho snaps back to the present, then, “Yeah, hold on a minute.”

He puts the call on mute, then hesitates for a second, before saying, “Halmeoni,”

“Hm?” Halmeoni looks up, pausing in the midst of slathering paste, smiling gently at Suho.

“Sieunie’s birthday is in a few days, would it be okay if I called his friends over here to celebrate?”

”It’s Sieunie’s birthday soon?” Suho nods, “Well, of course, Halmeoni doesn’t mind at all,” she nods, fond at the very mention of Sieun. Suho grins. “Thanks, Halmeoni.”

He then unmutes and puts the phone back up to his ear. “Juntae-ssi, if you haven’t decided on a location yet, why don’t we hold it at my house? Everyone can come over.”

“Really?!” Juntae excitedly says, “Suho-ssi said we can hold it at his place!” There's some excited noises, and a booming, ‘thanks, Suho-ssi!’, then, ‘Juntae, put it on speaker already,’ that sounds into his earpiece tinnily. Suho’s mouth twitches, amused.

“No worries, guys.”

They briefly talk about meeting to plan it out, picking out a time when Sieun would be in his hagwon, and after hanging up, Suho gets a location pin to Baku’s place.

When he puts his phone down again, Halmeoni looks up at him and smiles. “It would be nice to meet Sieunie’s friends.”

Suho doesn’t acknowledge the brief little spark of jealousy that flares in his heart, and gives Halmeoni a smile in return, nodding in agreement. 

When Suho arrives at the location, he looks up at the sign that reads ‘Baku chicken’, and tilts his head in confusion, before opening the door with a jingle and entering. He spots Baku munching on fries in one of the booths, scrolling through his phone, and makes his way over to him. 

Baku looks up. “Ahn Suho! Long time no see!” He gets up to greet him, taking his hand and bumping shoulders. “How’s it been at home?”

”All good, smooth sailing so far,” Suho makes his way to the booth with Baku, taking in the joint and its interiors.

”Oh, that’s a relief—hey, you limping?” Baku looks down at his knee.

”Yeah,” Suho rubs the back of his head, “Sprained it. But it’s better now, just got rid of the crutches yesterday.”

”Oh, that sucks. Fries?”

Suho settles into the booth and Baku pushes the fries over. 

“Your family owns a chicken restaurant?” Suho takes a fry and dips it in the sauce, then shoves it in his mouth. 

Baku nods. “Yeah, my old pops actually, he’s in the kitchen now. We get more online orders though, so this place is almost always empty, ‘cept for weekends.”

“Ah,” Suho nods, and right then, Juntae and Hyuntak enter, exclaiming their greetings happily. Suho almost gets up to greet them, but then finds himself pushed back down by the weight of Baku’s hand on his shoulder, and Baku gives him a brief smile and a wink before pulling Hyuntak into his side of the booth. Juntae settles in on Suho’s side.

“You’re doing well, Suho-ssi?” Juntae asks, polite and eager, as always. Suho smiles. “Yeah, you?” Juntae nods, then gets down to business. “So, what do you guys want to do?” 

There’s silence, then Hyuntak puts his hand on his chin contemplatively and says, “Well, we can just do the usual, streamers and balloons, with a birthday cake, regular birthday stuff,”

Why the meeting, then? Suho thinks. What a peculiar bunch of dudes. 

Then, he asks, “I don’t know, what did you guys do for him last year?”

There’s some more silence, then Juntae awkwardly says, “Ah, we only made friends with him late last year,”

Suho frowns, tries to jog his memories, and realizes Sieun only mentioned making friends much later. “Ah.” 

More silence, then Juntae shyly continues, “He only just kept to himself. He didn’t… I don’t think he had any friends. People didn’t really…” 

Ah, the texts make sense now. Sieunie only started talking about interacting with Juntae and the others closer to the end of his semester last year, Suho thinks.

Then, “People didn’t really what?”

Juntae fiddles nervously with his bag strap, hesitating, then coming to a decision. “When he joined Eunjang, there were a lot of rumors, bad rumors,”

Suho feels his fists tightening unintentionally. 

“Uh, that he had gotten someone… you know, and all that stuff, so no one wanted to—”

“Juntae-ya, I think that’s enough.” Baku interrupts. Juntae closes his mouth, nodding. 

Suho numbly swallows. “Thanks for telling me.” 

Suddenly, Hyuntak abruptly stands, says, “I’ll go get us some water.” and makes his way to the back. Baku stares holes into the fries.

Juntae sighs. “Sorry, Suho-ssi. There’s no point in hiding it from you, but I couldn’t think of a way to phrase it any better.”

“Ah, it’s fine.” Suho curls his trembling hands into fists and shoves them into his windbreaker. “It’s fine.”

Sieun-ah.

They end up finalizing the plan once Hyuntak comes back with their water, deciding that Baku will help with getting decorations with Juntae, then Juntae and Hyuntak would come over earlier on Sunday and help decorate the place, and Suho would be in charge of the cake. When Sieun comes over in the evening as he usually does, they’d surprise him. Suho lets them know that another friend of Sieun’s might be joining, and then they discuss food and drinks.

Once it’s over, Suho realizes even though this could have been decided on the call, it feels nice to go outside and meet people, especially now that Youngyi seems a little busy with her new job as a sales associate. It feels nice to be involved with Sieun’s birthday planning, too. He never got to celebrate Sieun’s birthday with him before, either. He feels nervous and excited all at once. 

Towards the end, when they’re all chit-chatting, ready to wrap up, Juntae clears his throat.

“Suho-ssi, we all wish it could’ve been different,” he says, voice holding a tinge of sorrow, “if we’d known… but even I was… Sieun’s the one who helped me, too,” Suho recalls the texts, and swallows, trying to line his dry throat.

“Sieunie’s a good friend to us now.” Baku looks him in the eyes determinedly. “We’d do anything for him.”

Somehow, Suho thinks he really does mean that, then realizes with a sad twist in his gut that they’ve technically known and been friends with Sieun longer than he has, and he suddenly feels strange. He smiles sadly. “I get it.”

Later, as Suho gets ready to leave, Juntae and Hyuntak already on their way out, Baku asks if he wants to be dropped back home on his bike. Suho thinks about it for a second, then nods an affirmative and thanks him. He hasn’t been on a bike in a long while, either. 

Baku passes him a helmet, slides on, then gestures his head to the back. “Hop on, friend!”

And Suho does, movements slow and deliberate so as to not strain his knee, then they’re off, the wind whipping against his face, and Suho takes a moment to breathe in the coarse air, takes in the flashing surroundings, then he’s lost in thought. He feels like immediately going to Sieun, asking him exactly how his last few years in high school went, wondering why he had to delay asking for so long because of his own fears—and if Sieun was wondering the same thing, wanting to confide in Suho about how it had been, but finding himself confronted with a wall instead. He wonders if he’s been doing right by Sieun, ignoring this important piece of his last two years, caught up in his own ruminations, having been bombarded with realization after realization ever since he woke up. 

Sieun, patient and caring, had taken everything in stride, understood without Suho even needing to say anything, always studying him, trying to find his eyes, trying to understand Suho’s heart. 

Suho sighs, and when he suddenly snaps out of his thoughts, he finds Baku pulling them to park by a convenience store. “You mind if we stop to hydrate? Feeling thirsty all of a sudden,” he raises his voice to speak through the helmet.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Suho replies, secretly wincing at the thought of having to get back on with this knee. At least getting off is easier.

There’s a table with a couple chairs out in the front, so they grab their drinks from inside and go to take their seats at the table, the blue-white tubelight from inside the store illuminating the area, and an old man smoking by the wayside. Baku opens his can of soda, and Suho shoves the straw into his juice carton.

Suddenly, Baku curiously asks, “What's it like waking up from a coma?” as he takes a swig.

Suho cracks a grin. “Like shit.”

Baku laughs. “Yeah, I bet.” then, “Is it true that you can still hear people?”

Suho pauses. Hesitates, then, “It took me a while to wake up, but there was a point where I was awake and could hear everything, but couldn’t open my eyes,”

Baku ‘wow’s, then tacks, “That would drive me crazy,” 

Suho nods. “It was pretty annoying.”

“But to answer your question, yeah, I could hear Sieun’s voice sometimes.”

“Like, when you were in the coma?”

Suho nods. 

Baku pauses and takes another swig of his soda. “You mind if I ask you something, friend?”

Suho raises an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“How long did you know Yeon Sieun before, y'know?" 

“Ha,” Suho looks down into his lap, fidgeting with his juice carton, feeling strangely shy all of a sudden. “About a month, maybe?”

Baku stills next to him. “Dude, for real?”

Suho looks over, and finds him staring at him in shock. “Why?”

“It’s just… Sieun never mentioned, but I dunno, thought you guys were like, elementary school friends, like real besties, with the crazy connection y’all have,” Suho averts his gaze, suddenly finding the need to look everywhere but at Baku, and shoves his straw back into his mouth, sipping at his juice a little too fervently. 

“Well, that’s crazy, you guys are lucky to have each other, man.” Baku looks out into the distance, all of a sudden contemplative, a hint of a mournful expression on his face. Suho can’t place it. “Yeah,” he replies instead.

Suho then asks, “How did you become friends with Sieun?”

“Hm,” Baku crushes his empty can, then casually flicks it into the garbage bin sitting in the distance with accuracy. “We got into a little trouble together,” Suho raises a brow, “eh, nothing too crazy, I took care of it,” Suho raises another brow, “anyway, we had to do volunteer work together and stuff. He helped me through a tough time, so I've got a soft spot for the little ice princess now.”

Suho barks out an unexpectedly loud laugh. “Ice princess?!” 

“Yeah, that tsundere. He was a real tough nut to crack, alright.” Baku deadpans, leaning his arms onto the table with a sombre expression, shaking his head. 

Suho starts laughing openly. 

A little while later, as they get up and head over to the bike, Baku suddenly grabs his arm, places it around his shoulder, then lifts him up by the waist and onto the bike with a grunt. Suho settles, stares at him for a second while he processes what happened and supports his weight on his good leg, then, “Whoa, my heart fluttered a little just now,” he rubs unconsciously at his chest.

Baku barks out a laugh and breaks into a shit-eating grin, passing Suho his helmet and putting on his own, then booms, “Guess Yeon Sieun has competition now!” and winks, before hopping onto the bike and starting the engine.

Suho shoves his head right into the helmet and hides his own blushing, embarrassed grin as they take off.

Chapter Text

On Sunday morning, Ahn Suho wakes up with his back screaming in pain. He puts his feet on the floor with a pinched expression, rubbing the middle of his spine and wincing, and gets up slowly, groaning all the while.

He finds Halmeoni in her bedroom, and leans against the doorframe, says, “Halmeoni, my back is killing me,”

Halmeoni tuts, “Oh no,” and moves to rustle through her dresser drawer. “I have a patch for that, let me apply it on you.”

Suho nods and goes to sit on her bed. She returns, sits behind him and locates the pain point with his help, sticking the patch onto his skin and rubbing it down. 

He feels immediate relief, slowly stretching and twisting. She pats his back affectionately. “Healing will always have ups and downs, Suho-ya,” she says as he turns to face her, sees his annoyed pout, “so be kind to yourself. Your body is trying its best for you.”

Suho sighs. “I know.” he takes her hand and pats it, “Thanks, Halmeoni.”

Halmeoni gets up slowly, Suho following her out after a big stretch, then once they’re in the kitchen, she says, “Halmeoni will prepare seaweed soup for Sieunie now.”

“Ah, Halmeoni, I said I’ll help," he whines.

She sighs. “You should rest your back.”

Suho shakes his head stubbornly. “No. I’ll help.”

When the doorbell rings later, and Suho opens the door to Juntae and Hyuntak nervously standing with boxes of decoration, he grins and gestures them in. “Come in!”

“Please excuse us,” they say in unison before walking in, politely removing their shoes. Halmeoni comes out of the kitchen to greet them and they bow deeply. “You must be Sieun’s friends,” she says happily, coming over and getting them to stand back up. “Such kind faces,” as she ushers them in. 

Suho trails behind her, rubbing his back and smiling. 

“Let me get you some water,” she says, while Hyuntak bows, mumbles, 'ah, it's okay, Halmeonim', but it’s too late, she’s already puttering into the kitchen. 

Juntae looks back at Suho, having noted him rubbing his back, and asks, “How are you, Suho-ssi? Are you alright?”

“Ah,” Suho awkwardly scratches his nose, “I’m good,”

Suho leads them to the living room, and Hyuntak puts the box down then asks, “You’re limping. You have a problem with your knee?” 

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I'd sprained it a couple weeks ago, it’s taking ages to heal, but it’s nothing—”

“Ah, in that case, I know a bunch of stretches that might help!” he makes his way over whilst cracking his neck, “Don’t worry, had my knee battered a couple years ago, and had to do extensive therapy to get it back, so I know my shit.”

Suho lets out a noise of surprise. “Were you an athlete or something?”

“Yeah, taekwondo, was on track to becoming a professional. But then the knee happened.” Hyuntak winces, a brief look of sadness flickering through his face, before he nudges Suho. “C’mon, let me teach you!”

Suho affirms, and Juntae sits down and starts enthusiastically unpacking whilst Hyuntak and Suho go through stretches, Halmeoni bringing them tea and snacks partway through. Juntae gets pats on his shoulder when he bows to thank her.

Hyuntak then keenly observes that he has back pain too, and helps him through a couple light stretches that greatly ease his pain.

After Suho thanks him, both his knee and back feeling profusely better, Hyuntak firmly instructs Suho to sit down and help them string the birthday banner while they blow up the balloons and do the physical labour, citing, “We’re here to help for a reason!” 

Suho can’t help but feel their warmth, so he nods and diligently gets to work. 

When Baku joins them later, he bows and greets Halmeoni with a booming, “Pleased to meet you!” and she startles a little bit, making Hyuntak snicker behind his hand.

“What an energetic young man,” she takes his hand and pats him, “That’s right, you young people should use your energy well.” 

He grins at her charmingly. 

Suho glances at the living room clock nervously as the hour approaches, and it seems like Sieun’s friends feel the same nervous jitter, eyes a little shifty, Juntae going to check and straighten the streamers and banners repeatedly, Hyuntak restlessly shaking his leg. Suho takes Baku to the kitchen to show him the cake and removes it from the fridge, laying it on the counter, and waits for his reaction as he opens the box.

Baku stares at it, then snorts, slapping Suho on the back. “Ha! It’s so perfect.”

Suho hides his wince, and grins shamelessly. “Isn’t it?”

Youngyi comes in as well, and Suho proudly introduces her to everyone. “This is Youngyi, a friend of mine and Sieun’s from junior year!”

Youngyi grins and bows. “I’m Youngyi!” and Halmeoni becomes endeared to her very quickly.

Everyone introduces themselves to her one by one, and she looks at them with a pleased expression in the end, then at Suho, as if saying, Yeon Sieun’s grown up well. 

Suho looks back at her, thinking, yeah, he has.

When Sieun finally rings the doorbell, everyone goes quiet, shushing each other. Halmeoni comes to join them and looks on from the back, smiling fondly. 

Suho tiptoes to the door after making sure everyone’s in position in the living room, then takes a deep breath, dismisses his nerves and opens the door. Sieun, unaware, takes a step inside as usual then pauses when Suho doesn’t move. They’d all made sure their shoes were stuffed inside the shoe cabinet to avoid ruining the surprise, and the door creaks behind them, ready to burst. 

Sieun narrows his eyes. “What is it?”

Suho, “Sieun-ah, close your eyes.”

Sieun frowns, then does as he says obediently, without much thought, and Suho vaguely thinks, wow, that went easier than I thought.

Suho then goes behind him, places both his hands on Sieun’s eyes, and guides him forward. He goes easily, docile, socks dragging against the floor.

“What’s going on?” Sieun asks, then Suho mouths, ‘Three, two, one’, to everyone waiting, and removes his hands from Sieun’s eyes, everyone going ‘Happy birthday!’ in unison, Baku blowing at a birthday whistle, Youngyi standing with the lit cake in hand in the middle which says, ‘Happy birthday to our dearest ice princess!’ with a pixelated Elsa printed on it, finished with a little tiara. 

Sieun stands rooted where he is, unmoving. And keeps standing, eyes wide, until Youngyi stomps her feet and says, “Sieun-ah, the candles are melting! Quick!”

Suho nudges him forward, placing a hand behind his back. “Come on, blow it out.”

When Sieun manages to break out of his spell, stumbling his way to the cake, eyes lost, Juntae whispers, “Make a wish, Sieun-ah,” and Sieun finally glances at Suho, who’s moved to stand adjacent to him. 

He instantly freezes—what Suho sees in his eyes suddenly makes time stop for him, makes his breath catch in his throat, his heart beating wild against his chest. He doesn’t even quite know what it is, or how to describe it. Sieun’s eyes slowly sweep around to all his friends, a sense of lost, starry-eyed wonder as he takes in all their happy, expectant expressions. Suho finds himself tearing up, suddenly lost in his own recollection of Sieun’s lonely back, sitting by himself in his chair in class, earbuds plugged in and shut out to the world. 

Suho looks away, rapidly blinking his eyes, and instantly feels grateful for being able to witness this moment.

Sieun closes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, then opens them slowly and blows the candle out.

And as everyone celebrates, whooping and cheering, moving the cake to put it on the table, Sieun suddenly launches himself at Suho, the impact almost making him fall backward, wrapping him in a hug.

And Sieun clings, and clings, fists balling into Suho’s shirt at the back, his face buried against his chest, warm and full against him.

Suho can barely breathe. The shock renders him slow to process the hug, his hands eventually coming up to gently hold his back, awkward and rigid, face growing progressively red at Sieun’s death grip.

Everyone pauses around them for a second, then Youngyi and Baku seem to meet each other’s eyes accidentally, a brief look passing through them, and they smile. Juntae averts his eyes shyly, Hyuntak shooting Suho an amused grin, then moving to place the knife next to the uncut cake.

Then, as Sieun starts to slowly pull away, avoiding Suho’s stare, Baku breaks the awkward silence with a loud, “And where’s my hug, Sieunie?”

Sieun ignores him, moving past him over to the cake as he stands expectantly with his arms stretched out, and everyone snickers at Baku's expense as his face falls. Meanwhile Suho stands still, gaze somewhere faraway, still trying to recover.

When Sieun finally notices what the cake says, he sighs tiredly, and just cuts through, as Suho and Baku stare smugly down at it then low-five behind him. 

When Halmeoni and Suho bring out the seaweed soup, Sieun looks at them fondly, a happy smile lining his face, and Suho’s heart jitters for the nth time that night. He distantly curses himself for being this pathetically in love.

Everyone kicks up a happy, peaceful banter with each other, exchanging stories about Sieun that only serve to make him slowly go pink from embarrassment, then the topic shifts to their interests as they get to know each other more over the food. 

Suho looks up at some point and catches Halmeoni's tender eyes as she gazes at Sieun, paused mid-step. Sieun happens to look at him, then shifts his gaze to Halmeoni, and then gets up to go wrap Halmeoni in a hug too, stiff but warm. She returns it just as gently.

His friends look on in fascination, having never witnessed such an openly affectionate Sieun before, then their expressions slowly shift to endearment, as they get back to stuffing their mouths and yapping with each other.

Suho feels himself tear up for the nth time that night, looks into his bowl, and curses himself again for being this stupidly, pathetically in love.

Afterwards, everyone diligently helps clean up before leaving, bidding farewell to Sieun affectionately. Youngyi wraps him in a big hug and tells him to call her so she can tell him all about her new job, and Sieun nods and says, “Congratulations, Youngyi-ya,” with pride glinting in his eyes. Suho sees her wipe discreetly at her eyes later as she slips on her shoes. 

Suho and Sieun decide to retire into the bedroom after bidding Halmeoni goodnight, and she slips an envelope into Sieun's hands, gripping them tight when he tries to refuse, and he bows to her deeply in gratitude and thanks her. Suho feels warmth spread through his chest at the sight, and both of them leave after grabbing the extra mattress from her room.

Suho collapses against the mat on the floor, stomach full, ignoring the little prick of pain in his back, and Sieun stares for a moment before he drops down to lie next to him.

“Did you like your birthday surprise?” Suho asks, turning his head to face him.

Sieun looks up at the ceiling with a happy, satiated expression on his face, and murmurs, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

They lie like that in companionable silence for a while, before Suho starts, "Sieun-ssi," 

"Hm?" Sieun tilts his head towards Suho.

Suho keeps his gaze on the ceiling, voice deliberately casual, "There are a lot of things I can't do anymore. No matter how hard I try, my body's too weak." He swallows, tries his best not to choke up, wills it away, "I get headaches a lot more often. I'm sensitive to loud noises and bright lights. My joints ache like a bitch when I wake up in the morning. I get frustrated when I can't even run for more than ten meters without puffing and panting. I have to take blood pressure meds and a bunch of other things, when I used to be the fittest person in our school," 

He closes his eyes, feels the tears sting at his eyelids, "Still, one day, I'd like to take you on a late night ride again. I'll keep working hard until then." 

There's a long pause, then Sieun, swallowing around his own guilt, suddenly teary eyed, softly confesses, "It makes me really happy when you call my name. I still can't believe it." Sieun looks up to the ceiling too, "It's all I need." 

"Sieun-ah," Suho's voice cracks. Suho tilts his head to see Sieun smiling with his glistening eyes. "Sieun-ah." 

Sieun turns his body to the side, propping his head on his arm, and turns that pretty smile onto Suho. Suho's heart swells, almost uncontrollably. He wants to kiss Sieun so badly, feels like there's no other way to express the longing and affection he feels for him at this moment, but all he can do is let the feeling ride out, let his heart settle. When it does, "I'm sorry that it took so long to ask you this, but Sieun-ah, how have your last two years of high school been?" 

Sieun stiffens, then sighs, consciously relaxing his limbs again. "Lonely, for the most part. But I wanted it that way."

Suho looks at him despondently. He wants to hug him.

"My grades started dipping when I joined Eunjang. I could barely sleep. But it got better later," 

"Your sleep?" 

"No, my grades." 

Suho sighs. Yeon Sieun, really...

"Did anyone trouble you?" Suho asks, then steels himself for the answer. 

Sieun shakes his head. "Everyone was afraid of me. The rumors of what happened in Byeoksan followed me there. Even the bullies left me alone." 

Suho doesn't know whether to feel relieved or upset. Both of those feelings stir in his chest. "Juntae was, though. Being bullied," Suddenly, Suho's hit with flashbacks of Beomseok, and his breathing sharpens. "First, he reminded of him," Sieun continues, as if reading his mind. Suho looks at him again, to find him staring down at the mat, picking at a random thread. "But then I realized later that he's different. He was made to steal phones for a bully, but then one day they targeted mine." 

Suho's breath catches. "And so?"

Sieun shrugs, "I knew what he was doing. I just let him take it. But he started feeling guilty and hovering around me, and he kept reminding me of him," Sieun collapses back against the mat, "that's when I called him a coward." 

"I remember," he recollects Sieun's texts.

"But then, he came to ask me how to be brave the next day, and I think I told him something about Newton's third law, how every action has an equal and opposite reaction, then he started returning every single phone back the day after." 

Suho scratches his head, not quite understanding the correlation. "As in, the stash that the bullies kept?" 

A nod. "And there were so many. He returned all of them with apology notes." 

Suho whistles. "What a dude." 

"I was scared for him. But when Hyoman, the leader, came to confront him and started beating him up, I couldn't move for a while," 

Suho turns to look at Sieun. 

"I just couldn't. It felt like the same thing repeating, over and over. But then he just wouldn't stop, and it just kept pissing me off, until I couldn't take it anymore," Sieun pauses, then meets Suho's gaze, studies his face, "I thought, 'What would Suho do?'" Sieun smiles forlornly, "And I kicked the chair out of his hands and told him not to cross the line." 

Suho smiles despite himself. "I was pretty cool like that, huh?" 

A pause. "You are." 

"Then what happened?" 

"I took a couple of his punches." Suho winces, "Then I avoided one, using the deflection you taught me," Suho's chest puffs out with pride, "sent him flying. Then Gotak came in, almost kicked him in the face, and he left." 

"Right, taekwondo champ." 

Sieun turns his head to him, surprised. "How did you know?" 

"Ah, he told me when they came to decorate. Sieun-ah,” Suho turns his body to him, letting his head rest against his arm, and Sieun mirrors him. "You did right by trying to help the kid. You might have sent him to his doom, but at least he would have stood by his principles, and that pride would've kept him going." 

Sieun nods. 

"I wanted to help him. Partly because of the resemblance... Partly because I didn't want something like that to happen to someone else. And maybe because I wanted to approach him and be his friend. I don't think I even realized at the time. I was so..." 

"I get it." 

"I was worried you'd be upset that I'd put myself in a situation like that again, to let myself get hurt. But then I started putting myself in worse situations, to save Juntae, at first, then..."  Sieun looks at him with an unreadable expression.

"Like what?" 

And so, Sieun tells him. Recounts everything, spares some of the gorier details, but he lays it all out bare, sometimes nervously, sometimes fond when speaking about his friends, sometimes withdrawn and anxious, unable to look into Suho's eyes. Every time that happens, Suho wants to nudge his face up, but he lets Sieun be. 

Afterwards, they face each other in silence. 

Suho tries his best, he really does, but the only thing that comes out is a choked, "Sieun-ah, I'm really upset with you right now." 

Sieun looks at him in surprise, then lowers his eyes, as if having expected it. 

Suho rubs a hand down his face, feels the helplessness wrack through his body, and he sits up.  Continues rubbing his face, cards his hands through his hair, wills the tears away, but they won't go. Finally, he stops, hair looking like a mess, his face rubbed red. 

"You..." He whips his head around to him. "How could you..." 

"I was angry, I didn't want them to touch a single hair on your head, if they did, I would've killed them," Sieun mumbles. "I just wanted them gone. And I wanted them to stop bothering my friends." 

Suho tries his best to will his anger away for Sieun. "I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you, Sieun-ah, but if you ever..."

"I won't do it again." 

"You have to promise me." Suho shifts his body to face Sieun, and Sieun sits up too. He holds out his pinky finger. "Promise me, this time." 

Sieun hooks his pinky finger with his, murmurs, "Promise," then when Suho tightens it, keeps pettily tightening it to the point where it makes Sieun wince a little bit, Suho's distress still clear in his tight expression, Sieun makes eyes at him and mumbles, "Don't be mad." 

It only makes Suho feels more distressed. He lets go. 

"Don't look at me like that. Your puppy eyes can't fool me anymore, you crazy bastard, after telling me you stabbed someone's foot with the broken arm of their glasses." Suho scoffs, "It's fucking cool as hell. Pissing me off." 

Sieun lets a little hint of a smile creep onto his face. 

Then Suho threatens, "You're smiling? Huh? You're smiling? Are you gonna put yourself in harm's way again? Is looking cool all you care about?" 

His eyes lower obediently. "No." 

A pause, then suddenly,

"Sieun-ah, it must've been so lonely, and it must've been so painful. I wish I was there to kick the bastards' faces in for you. I wish you didn't have to fight." Suho moves closer, tries to meet his eyes, "You must have been through a lot, and it must've hurt a lot," Suho sees his pained expression reflected in Sieun's eyes. "I'm sorry." His voice cracks a little bit.

Sieun shakes his head. "It was worth it. For you, and for them." 

Suho pulls him into a tight hug, letting his tears of frustration well up. It becomes clear to him that he'll always feel this maddening urge to protect him, then realizes that Sieun shares that same brand of stubbornness, that persistent will to protect those he loves and cares about, shielding them from harm's way by putting himself in the line of fire. 

Then Suho feels a sudden, strong bout of helplessness surge through his veins at his broken body, feelings of frustration that have slowly been building and welling up since he woke and couldn't move his arms, shoved to the back of his mind while he tried to survive and put one foot painstakingly in front of the other, even as he tried to have hope despite the doctors' insistence otherwise. Realizes that this is it, for him. This is his body now, and he has to live with it, live in it, persevere in it. He starts feeling the tears fall down his face, then before he knows it, his body is wracking with pained, anguished sobs, uncontrollable and grief-ridden.

Grief-ridden, at Sieun's pain, his own inability to be there for him for two whole lonely years, and his own inability to show up for him now, in his current state, with his body as it is. His love for Sieun only exacerbates the searing pain, splinters through his heart, tears at every vein in his body, his heart ripping itself to shreds.

Sieun's hands, where they were lying limp as he let himself be hugged, frantically come up to return his embrace, clutch at the back of his shirt. Sieun tries to pull away to look at him, eyes wide, but Suho holds on tighter, clutches at him, sobs into his shoulder helplessly. "Suho-ya," Sieun whispers worriedly, but Suho just pulls him in even tighter, his tears flowing and flowing. Sieun eventually just holds him, rubs a hand down his back soothingly, settles it against his pain-relief patch, then closes his eyes against his own unshed tears. 

When Suho’s sobs recede, and he quietens down, brings his arm up to wipe at his face with his sleeve, Sieun pulls away and looks him in the eyes, expression soft and a little sad, and says: “You’re Ahn Suho, aren’t you.”

Suho laughs blearily. Sieun tightens his grip on Suho’s shirt, where he’s clinging to it on either side of his waist. “You’re Ahn Suho. You’ll always be Ahn Suho, no matter what.”

He feels like he’s going to cry again, the words so achingly comforting coming from Sieun, his emotions so heart-rendingly conveyed through just those few words, and Ahn Suho, on the verge of confessing his unending love for sweet, sweet Yeon Sieun, tamps down on it and nods instead, rubs at his eyes with the edges of his palms. 

“Sieunie’s right. I am, I'm still Ahn Suho.” 

Suddenly, Sieun brings his hand up hesitantly in front of his face, then plucks a stray hair strand from where it’s fallen on his cheek, then both of them are staring at each other, and the air between them starts feeling hot, as if it could almost start sparking with static electricity. It makes Suho’s pulse kick right into high gear, eyes lowering to Sieun’s mouth unconsciously, edging just a tiny bit closer, then when Sieun’s grip on his shirt tightens, he suddenly realizes what he’s doing in a moment of distinct clarity.

He looks back to Sieun’s eyes in panic then wrenches them away, instantly breaking the moment by standing up, saying, “It’s late, let’s sleep,” with a shaky voice and making his way over to the bed. 

Sieun sits there for a moment, staring at Suho’s back, breath coming heavy, then he nods numbly and begins to unfurl the extra mattress. “Okay.”

Then Suho abruptly turns again, curses, then grabs at Sieun’s hoodie, as if trying to tug him up, and Sieun stands with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Sorry for crying like that on your birthday.” Suho rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, then reaches his hand out to pat the top of Sieun’s head clumsily as Sieun stares, gaze open, unmoving. “Happy birthday, Sieun-ah.”

Sieun’s mouth twitches. They look at each other for a moment, then Suho laughs. 

Sieun shakes his head fondly as he turns to adjust the bedding, murmurs, “Thank you.”

They both settle into their beds, and Suho switches the light off. “Goodnight, Yeon Sieun.”

“Goodnight, Ahn Suho.”

Chapter Text

As the year bids farewell to the month of May, and the summer heat slowly begins to creep in, Suho goes to the hospital for his regular check up with his doctor, Sieun in tow. He’d already visited the day before to get his routine MRI scan done, along with a couple blood tests, and was now in the elevator on his way to their scheduled appointment with Doctor Kang.

He shuffles in place, then turns. “Sieun-ah, I told you that you don’t need to come for these anymore. You have too much going on, I’ll be diligent,”

“You always downplay everything.” Sieun mumbles sullenly, pushing past him when the elevator dings open.

Suho sighs and follows him out. 

Once they’ve checked in with the reception and made their way to the waiting room seats, Sieun reaches over to unzip Suho’s bag and brings out Suho’s copy of his medical folder, then buries his head in it, scanning through it diligently as if he hasn’t read over it countless times already.

Suho gazes at him fondly, repressing the urge to pat his head and move his bangs away from his eyes. He plants his rolled fists firmly inside his windbreaker pockets instead, for insurance, and busies himself with studying the side of Sieun’s face, noting how long and pretty his eyelashes are, the soft line of his nose, the fullness of his lips, and digs his fists even deeper into his pockets. 

“Patient Ahn Suho!” a nurse calls out, peeking her head out from the doctor’s office.

Suho startles a little from where he was spacing out staring at Sieun, then gets up, clears his throat, and grabs him by his scruff. “C’mon,” he gestures with his head towards the office, “she called us in.”

When they enter, Doctor Kang looks up from where he’s scratching down notes and greets them with a happy grin, “Hello, you two. Faring well, I hope?” 

Suho grins and bows his greetings, Sieun doing the same behind him.

They settle into their seats. 

“Patient Suho, because you’ve reported worsening headaches and fatigue, I’ll switch up some of your medication and see if your response is better.” Doctor Kang begins, and glances at Sieun as well, passing them the new prescription, Sieun taking it with a little bow. 

Suho nods as he peers into it curiously, then decides to let Sieun handle reading it. 

Doctor Kang clicks around for a moment, then turns his monitor towards them and brings up his brain scans, and both of them shift to examine it. “The good news is that your brain scans appear normal.”

Suho sighs in relief and leans back, and Doctor Kang sifts through a couple more images before turning the monitor back around. “However, the thing with traumatic brain injuries is that they don’t leave detectable traces once healed, other than scar tissue sometimes, but they can result in altered brain function, and we can only diagnose those alterations by looking into your physical condition, thoughts and behaviors, and responsiveness.”

Suho digests the information carefully. “So you can’t predict it?”

Doctor Kang shakes his head, “As I told you upon discharge, we’ve prescribed you with preventative medication to lessen the chances of a brain bleed in the future. However, you’re still at risk. And we won’t be able to predict when it’ll happen until and unless the symptoms physically manifest, or by luck, if it’s caught very early on our routine MRI scans, which is why we insist on monitoring your brain’s condition as frequently as possible.”

He looks at Sieun, then back at Suho, “Again, if you experience any sudden increasing pain with your headaches, sudden nausea and weakness, if you stop making sense or you stop feeling parts of your body, rush to the hospital immediately.”

Sieun, “Noted.”

Doctor Kang sighs, and removes his glasses, tucking them into the pocket of his coat. “I advise that you try not to be by yourself for extended periods of time. At least for now, while we monitor your condition and make sure you’re out of the clear. Brain bleeds can worsen severely in a very short span of time, especially for those who have a history of traumatic brain injury. Time is of the essence. And sometimes, they don’t have very clear causes either.”

Suho nods his head. “We’ll keep it in mind, Doctor.” Sieun nods as well. 

The doctor gives them a comforting smile, takes a deep breath, then asks, “Have you been experiencing any other difficulties? Is your physical condition alright?”

Suho goes to shake his head and say ‘no difficulties’, but Sieun interrupts him immediately, “He’s been having flare-ups with his knee, as well as pain in his mid-back and neck. He also complains about his pelvic joints hurting sometimes.”

Doctor Kang, leaned over taking notes, hiding an amused smile, nods and says, “Thank you, I’ll forward these concerns.”

After the appointment and a meeting with the physiotherapist, Suho stretches as Sieun buys his new medicine at the pharmacy. “Ah, Sieun-ssi, you know you spoil me way too much, don’t you?” he says through a satisfied groan.

Sieun looks at him flatly as the pharmacist pours over their prescription, and he continues, “It’s not good, I feel like I can shut my brain off when you’re around at the hospital, what’ll I do when you’re not here, huh?” 

Sieun doesn’t grace the question with a response, instead threatening, “If I catch you slacking on your medicine, I’ll kill you.”

Suho shakes his head fervently, eyes wide and brows furrowed, genuinely insulted, “Sieun-ah, what kind of person do you take me for? I’ve always been diligent about that. I’m hurt, seriously.”

Then, later,

“Will you make me that cute color-coded table again? It was really motivating,” Suho says as they walk back from the pharmacy, hands shoved in his pockets.

Sieun looks down and avoids his gaze, tightening his hold on the brown paper bag full of medicine where he’s gripping it against his chest. “...Yeah.”

Later, when they're back to sitting on the bench near the hospital, Sieun checking on all the medication in the bag, he looks up and asks, "What would you like to do for your birthday?" 

Suho smiles crookedly at Sieun. "You're already asking?" 

"Mm, school closes early this year. We can plan something."

He takes a moment to think, then, "We'll call Youngyi over and celebrate. I want to eat a meal with Halmeoni too, this time around." 

"Okay." 

Suho glances over to see Sieun looking at him with a tender expression, and ignores the squeeze in his chest. 

Once June rolls into full swing, Sieun gets busy with mock exams and the hagwon, and by the time he comes to Suho’s place most evenings he’s yawning and tired, barely functioning. 

Suho frowns one night when Sieun enters and collapses tiredly against the wall of the entryway in the midst of pulling off his shoes. 

“Sieun-ah?” He hurries to where he is, alarmed, then gently supports Sieun’s weight and has him sit on the low-rise shoe cabinet, then sinks down and removes his shoes and socks for him.

“Sieun-ah, I told you if you’re this tired, stay at home on Friday nights and come the next morning instead.”

Sieun mumbles something unintelligible under his breath, interrupted by a yawn. Suho chuckles, “You’re like a baby right now.”

A weak glare.

“C’mon,” Suho says, grabbing Sieun’s arm to wrap around his shoulder, and then lifting him and getting him on his feet. “Hey, Yeon Sieun, why are you so light? I can lift you even with my weak muscles,” Suho comments, “You need to remember to eat properly, it’ll help you study,”

Sieun responds with another yawn and trails along with him to his room.

Suho deposits him on his bed, tucks him in tight with the blanket, then sounds a gentle command, “Sleep.”

Sieun’s out like a light almost immediately. 

Suho walks into the kitchen, switches on the tubelight, and gets to cooking. 

He whips up some kimchi stew, meticulously tasting the broth to make sure it’s seasoned well, and heats up the leftover rice from lunch. Halmeoni comes to check in on him halfway through, looking on in mild surprise. “Little one, what are you making?”

“Kimchi jjigae. Ah, Sieunie’s probably skipped dinner and had triangle kimbap again, I want him to eat well before he sleeps tonight.”

Halmeoni smiles at him fondly as she helps stir the broth. “Is he sleeping right now?”

Suho nods, then gets out a tray and an assortment of bowls and starts arranging everything together.

“Well, it smells delicious,” she comments as he putters around her, opening and closing cabinet doors and poking his head into the refrigerator to bring out some side dishes. 

“Halmeoni, I made enough for all of us. We can eat it tomorrow for lunch, too.” Suho passes a bowl to her, and she starts ladling the stew in, nodding. “Yes, let’s do that. Suho-ya, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you run around the kitchen like this. You should start cooking for Sieunie more often, it will definitely motivate him with his studies.”

Suho coughs and wills the sudden redness away from his face, “Uh, yeah. Halmeoni’s food is the best, though.” 

She hands him the bowl, continues, “You have Halmeoni’s talent with cooking. He’ll enjoy anything you make,” and sends him out of the kitchen with a gentle pat to the back.

Suho smiles and makes his way to his bedroom, opens the door whilst balancing the tray carefully on one hand, and goes to set it down on the sidetable as quietly as possible. He then takes a moment to look at Sieun sleeping soundly, hands curled and gripping his blanket, face snuggled right into his pillow.

Suho stares, resists the urge to run his hands through his hair, instead sits down next to him and raises his hand to gently pat him awake. He hesitates before dropping it on his curled arm, slowly shaking him, “Sieun-ssi,” he pokes him with a finger when there’s no response, and calls his name out again, “Sieun-ah,”

Sieun blinks awake slowly, burrowing his face in the pillow and taking a deep breath before his eyes land on Suho, and he gives him a soft smile, still muddled and half asleep. Suho’s heart does a little tap dance against his chest.

“I made you something to eat.” Suho removes his hand from where it’s resting on his bicep, and immediately misses the warmth, suddenly all too aware of Sieun’s waist and legs curled behind him. 

He reaches over to bring the tray onto his lap, gesturing at it. “Kimchi jjigae.”

Sieun slowly brings himself to sit up, hair a mess, eyes still sandy and half-closed. “Mm?” he tries reaching for the spoon, “For me?”

Suho grins and nudges the tray closer. “Yeah, for you.”

Suddenly, Sieun’s movements are interrupted by a yawn, and he looks so tired as he rubs at his face, so Suho just grabs the spoon instead, mixes some broth and tofu with rice and holds the spoon up to Sieun’s face.

Sieun stares at the spoon. Suho stares at Sieun, then clears his throat, beginning, “I just—”

He watches as Sieun slowly opens his mouth and takes a bite from the spoon, tongue poking out, and starts chewing obediently. 

Suho holds his breath until Sieun’s done swallowing, and still doesn’t dare to breathe as he shovels some more food onto the spoon, and holds it up again, and Sieun leans in. Dazed, he feeds him until the entire bowl of rice is clear, then feeds him the remaining tofu and meat from the broth, slowly and carefully, the only sound in the room the scraping of the spoon and chopsticks against the cutlery. 

When it’s finally done, Sieun sniffles and rubs his nose with his sleeve-covered hand, and peers at him with tired eyes and a red mouth. Suho slowly snaps back to reality, finding himself with a pleased, giddy smile on his face.

He puts the tray back on the bedside table and lets his heart have at its whims for once. He gently reaches out to pat at the side of Sieun’s head clumsily. “You ate well, I’m happy.”

Sieun lowers his gaze with a sleepy shyness and mumbles, “It was really good.”

He beams. “Was it? Halmeoni says I’ve got her cooking genes or whatever.” Sieun hums in agreement.

There’s a pause, and Suho brings his hand back up to nudge a few strands of hair away from Sieun’s forehead. The hair is satin soft against the tips of his fingers as he gently moves it, and Sieun leans into it ever so slightly. He tucks a couple wayward strands behind his ear and hopes Sieun is sleepy enough to let his greed slide.

They sit in the moment for a short while, and Suho admires this soft, sleep-addled Sieun quietly, observing the pillow mark against his cheek, and wonders if his day went alright.

Just as Suho’s about to ask him the same, Sieun mumbles, “I made you seaweed soup.”

Suho pauses, and lowers his hand, surprised. “What?”

Sieun fidgets with his sleeve. “On your birthday, before...”

When Suho doesn’t respond, Sieun hesitantly continues, “I wanted it to… I wanted to make it tasty. I cooked it for a long time. And then…”

What? Suho feels his throat constrict. “Sieun-ah…” his hands suddenly weigh heavy where they rest against his thighs, and he resists, he resists, as always. He wants to nudge Sieun’s chin up, hold him a little closer, and the feeling overwhelms him until he has to turn his body slightly further away.

But Sieun surprises him, as he has been ever since his birthday, when he launched himself at him and hugged him tight. Sieun tugs at his shirt sleeve, holding onto its very end with his fingers poking out of his sweater paw, and Suho leans in a little to let Sieun’s head rest against his shoulder, turned away and facing the other side. Suho feels his hair poking at his shoulder through the shirt, feels the warmth of his cheek where it’s resting against him. It sets his heart at ease against the sudden tumult of emotion storming his mind. Sieun seems to have sensed it, and offered his comfort.

Sieun relaxes, leaning more of his weight against him, and murmurs, “I made you seaweed soup last year, too.”

Suho’s heart pulls, and he slowly drops his head against the back of Sieun’s, resting it lightly. “Sieun-ah,” he swallows against the growing lump in his throat, the image of Yeon Sieun making him soup rendering him breathless, and he suddenly can’t find the words, finds himself wishing he could kiss him again, and wars with the emotion threatening to pour out of his heart. He croaks, “It’s a shame I couldn’t taste it,”

Sieun rubs his head gently against his shoulder like a cat just once, jostling Suho’s head, then sleepily murmurs, “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

”Jjigae.”

"Don't thank me. Will you promise to eat well from now onwards?”

Sieun nods, jostling Suho’s head again. 

“Will you make me seaweed soup again, for my birthday?”

Sieun pauses, then lifts his head and nods agreeably, eyes half closed again. “I will.”

Suho smiles at him, nudges one last strand away from Sieun’s forehead, and instantly puts his hand away. “Sieun-ah, I’ll cherish every last drop of it. I promise.”

Sieun lowers his head again and yawns sleepily. Suho thinks about Yeon Sieun, who barely even takes care of himself, making seaweed soup for him. He thinks about how lonely it must’ve been when he made it for him last year, he thinks about how the soup had to go cold the year before too, and his heart squeezes and beats against the cage of his chest pathetically, woefully. He murmurs, “I’ll look forward to Sieunie’s cooking.”

The words come out intimate, and indulgent. They beg to be followed with a gentle kiss to the forehead. He pays no heed to their begging.

He gently pushes Sieun’s shoulder, lowering him back down against the mattress, clamping down on all his feelings that desperately need an outlet, trying not to think about Yeon Sieun and his thoughtfulness, and hopes his teary eyes don’t show against the weak light of the bedside lamp. 

“Sleep.” He says instead, and tucks Sieun into the blanket again. He picks up the tray and slowly walks out of the room, switching the lamp off on the way out, listless and quiet.

He makes it all the way to the sink, and he stands frozen for a long while, tray in hand, not knowing what to do with himself, his mind elsewhere.

The tears slowly leak out, unbeknownst to him.

Suho texts Hyuntak one Saturday, asking if he knows any really effective hip stretches, as well as for some clarity on position and breathing for some of the knee exercises that he’d taught him when he had come over, and he gets a video call almost immediately.

When he answers, he’s greeted with a bright, “Hey, I thought I’d call since I’m free. Were you in the middle of your workout?”

Suho nods and cracks a smile, and Sieun pauses where he’s studying at the coffee table. “Ah, yeah, just finishing up actually, it came to mind so I thought I’d text you before I forget.”

”Cool! I’ll text you later so that you remember the details, but I’ll talk you through the positions because it’s easier if I can see your form.”

Like that, Hyuntak guides Suho through the stretches, his phone propped up by the table leg first, then Sieun crawls over and holds it in a better position, and Hyuntak quips, “Hey, Sieunie!” and Sieun waves at him before pointing back at Suho, checking the angle from the side.  

“Ah, that’s really helpful, thanks Sieun-ah,” Hyuntak says before teaching him how to lean into the stretch, phone similarly propped up on the ground as he guides him.

Once they’re done, Suho wipes his sweat and grins, “Hyuntak-ssi, you’re a genius,” and Hyuntak laughs awkwardly, messing his hair at the back, and says, “It’s nothing.”

By the time July rolls around and Sieun's mock exams get over, Suho begins looking into GED preparation with Sieun's help, going with him to buy all the study material and organizing it neatly so that he can start once summer vacation rolls around for Sieun.

Suho secretly looks forward to studying for the GED, happy at the thought of spending more time with Sieun over the summer. 

Nothing comes out of his monthly hospital visit, with the newer meds having worked out better for him than the older ones. The doctor makes note of his improving physical condition with a satisfied smile, and advises him to continue to take it slow. On their way out, Suho glances at Sieun, and sees him looking back at him with pride glinting in his eyes. Suho gets through the rest of the day with unusual energy. 

He calls Hyuntak more frequently, asking for help when parts of his body ache or muscles unexpectedly catch, and Hyuntak always talks him through stretches that help him immensely. One day, Suho, at the end of one of their mini-sessions, picks up his phone and tells Hyuntak, "I gotta treat you to a meal, Gotak. You're a miracle worker, really." 

Hyuntak grins at him widely and says, "I'll hold you to that!" 

Sieun hides his face in his textbook, resisting a fond smile. 

On the eve of Suho's birthday, Sieun comes in that evening with a bag full of ingredients from the grocery store, then goes to discuss something with Halmeoni. 

Suho, idling in the living room, watches as he deposits the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and begins to sort things into the refrigerator. 

"Sieun-ah, what you upto?" Suho asks, craning his neck, then getting up with a small groan and stretching.

"Nothing," Sieun mumbles, stuffing the last of it inside. "It's for tomorrow." 

Suho cracks a wide grin. "I'm excited now!"

"Don't be."

"Ah, why?" he whines.

Sieun pads over to the bedroom and Suho trails after him. 

As he enters the room, he sees Sieun carefully place his bag on the ground, then begin to unfurl his extra mattress. Suho joins him on the floor, knees propped up and leaning against the side of his bed. "Sieun-ssi," 

"Hm?" 

"Why don't we go to a PC cafe tomorrow? I want to play games with you again." 

Sieun hesitates, then says, "We'll go to my house instead, Mom won't be at home. We can play games on the PlayStation." 

Suho gasps. "Sieun-ah, how come you never told me you have a PlayStation?" 

Sieun shrugs, "I forgot it's there. I don't really use the living room much. I just remembered when you told me."

“Alright!” Suho beams, “Let’s do that.”

Sieun finishes setting up his mattress, then comes to sit next to Suho on the floor, mirroring his position. Suho looks at him inquiringly, and Sieun hesitates for a while. “Last time,”

Suho shakes his head. “We don’t have to talk about it. I understand.”

Slowly, ”I have a lot of regrets. Youngyi does too.”

”Sieun-ah,” Suho interrupts, “I’m here now. We’ll make lots of memories together, the three of us. When I get a job too, we’ll travel together, go to lots of nice places and celebrate lots of things together. Won’t we?”

Sieun looks at him, then nods. Suho shoots him a smile. ”It’s enough that the both of you and Halmeoni are with me. I’m really grateful for it.”

”Me too,” Sieun mumbles, “I’m grateful that you’re here.”

Suho unlocks his phone to look at the time, and sees that there’s half an hour left before 12AM. He looks back at Sieun, then suggests, “Want to go up to the terrace for a bit?”

Sieun nods. 

Suho gets up, roots through his wardrobe and tosses Sieun one of his windbreakers. “Bundle up. It’ll be cold.” 

He wears Sieun’s grey hoodie and helps Sieun with fitting his arms through the sleeves of the jacket, then nudges the backs of his knees with his own. “Let’s go.”

They let Halmeoni know, and she sleepily tells them to be mindful of the steps, pulling her blanket over herself and asking them to switch off all the extra lights on their way out.

They quietly exit the house and make their way up the narrow and steep steps on the side, Suho making sure Sieun goes up before him, and he unlocks the little metal gate when they reach the top. The terrace is small, the walls mossy from the rain and the building’s water tank, but there’s just enough space on the ledge for them to sit and look out into the neighborhood and the horizon littered with skyscrapers and tall buildings, their house elevated from being on the last floor of their mini complex.

They settle next to each other and Suho puts the bottle of water he’d brought between them, and opens up a can of fruit soda for himself. They sit in companionable silence for a while as he sips, then Suho goes, “Sieun-ah,”

Sieun hums, turning to look at him, and Suho marvels at the night light reflecting from the depths of Sieun’s eyes. He thinks about all the birthdays he'd spent with only Halmeoni to keep him company, and wonders if he'll ever be able to celebrate another birthday without Yeon Sieun going forward.

Looking into those eyes, he confesses, “Before you came around, I was a pretty lonely kid, you know?”

Suho looks down to his can, then raises it to take a sip again. He doesn’t look at Sieun, just gazes at the vast expanse of the horizon, sees the lights glinting, the dark clouds shifting against the night. 

“I thought I didn’t have time for friends, eventually. But I’d noticed you, anyway.”

He pauses for a long moment, waiting for the lump in his throat to pass, looking everywhere else but Sieun. 

“You looked lonely, too.”

Sieun stares at him, his gaze carrying an inexplicable weight, then slowly looks back into the night, softly says, “I was.”

They sit in some more silence, and Suho contemplates for a long time before tightening the grip on his can and asking, “Why do you think he did that?” 

Sieun freezes next to him.

Suho’s breath comes shallow as his heart begins to race. “I don't even know why I'm trying to understand him. I just—I’d really thought of him as a friend, you know?” 

Sieun’s eyes look pained when he looks back at him, and he whispers, “I don't know why.” 

Suho rubs tiredly at his face, about to switch topics, when Sieun turns his body to face him, and he confides, “I keep having this recurring dream.” 

He turns as well, crossing his legs, and looks at him with slight trepidation. “What dream?” 

Sieun plays with the hem of the windbreaker. “At the boxing ring. And he's usually sitting there. I’ve tried to ask him.” 

Suho’s breath catches, and Sieun slowly shakes his head, looks down and whispers, “I want to understand, too.”

“Yeah,” Suho sighs, looking out into the street, “yeah.” He takes a sip of his soda, then shakes his head, trails of anger and resentment coursing through his veins. “I want to know, but I don't think I could ever forgive him. Friends don't do that shit to each other, right?” 

Sieun sighs, then nods in agreement. “Me neither. But I still…” 

“I know.” Suho looks back at him, sees the slight breeze ruffle his soft hair, lets the threads of resentment slowly fade, and smiles as he looks away, and resolutely says, “Sieun-ah, I’d like to be your friend for a long time.” 

He doesn't see the inkling of a complicated expression pass through Sieun’s face for all but a second, but he hears him whisper, “Me too,” and lets himself be satisfied with that answer. Sieun continues, “Happy birthday, Suho-ya.” 

Suho startles, looks at the time on his watch, and laughs. “Thanks.” 

He looks back at Yeon Sieun to find his gaze on him, a small smile playing on his face, a somewhat unreadable emotion glinting in his eyes, and secretively thinks to himself that he's beautiful. 

He returns that smile with a grin, thankful for Sieun, and thankful for his life. 

The next morning, he wakes up with Youngyi in his face.

And yelps.

“Fuck!” He clutches tightly at his racing chest as she grins down at him. 

“Suho-ya,” she lowers her voice as if imitating someone familiar, running the back of her hand against his cheek, “good morning,” 

“Cut it out.” Sieun’s voice sounds flatly from somewhere behind her, and Suho collapses against his pillow and groans. She starts laughing hysterically. 

“You’re lucky he didn’t try to punch you reflexively,” Sieun mumbles, in the process of wrapping up his bedding. “He usually has a habit of doing that.”

”What, really?” Youngyi gapes, “That’s scary.”

”Youngyi-ya, what in the world are you doing in my room, on my bed?” Suho mutters, hands raised to rub tiredly at his eyes.

She collapses next to him. “I took off from work.” She wraps an arm around his waist. “Happy birthday, Suho-ya,” She makes a kissy face, which he effectively evades with a palm to her face. 

“Gross, and thank you, but is that okay?”

She looks at him seriously, and says, “It is. Sieunie and I aren’t leaving your side today.” 

“Ah, that’s… Can you let me freshen up by myself, at least?” 

She groans and rolls off the bed dramatically. Sieun sighs. 

When Suho walks into the kitchen, breakfast is already laid out, with seaweed soup, rolled omelettes and vegetable pancakes among other dishes. Suho gapes at it, and Halmeoni laughs fondly after hugging him and wishing him a happy birthday, wrinkled hands patting his cheeks. “Suho-ya, Sieunie insisted on making you seaweed soup himself. He was up so early to start preparing for breakfast, I almost had a fright when I woke up to see him in the kitchen. He was such a good help with the rest of the dishes, too.”

Sieun blushes and looks away, pulling out a chair for him. “Eat.”

Youngyi exclaims that it looks so delicious, then compliments Halmeoni on her dishes too, which makes Halmeoni grab her hand to pull her down to sit. “Come here, dear, you need to eat well, why are you so frail?”

When they finally all settle down to eat breakfast with Halmeoni and Suho takes the first sip of the seaweed soup, he looks up to see Sieun's eyes trained on him. His eyes widen and he looks back down to the soup in awe. "Sieun-ssi, this is so tasty. How'd you make it like this?" 

Sieun looks down and mumbles, "Seaweed soup tastes better the longer it cooks." 

Halmeoni hums her assent happily. "Sieunie's right. It's so delicious." 

Youngyi nods enthusiastically, shoveling it into her mouth. “Yeon Sieun, are you good at everything you do?” Her voice cracks ever so slightly.

Suho looks at her, then pauses. 

"Youngyi-ya, is it spicy for you? This is spicy? No way, right?" 

She swipes below her nose speedily, and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, and her nose is suddenly red and her cheeks are blotchy, so Suho slowly lowers his spoon to stare at her. Sieun takes one look at her and lowers his own face, staring intently into his soup. 

Suho looks on in silence, before saying, "You crybaby." 

Youngyi points to his face. "You're one to talk! You're also tearing up, aren't you?" 

Sieun's gaze snaps up, and Suho looks over at him to see his eyes slightly glazed over, sniffling cutely. Suho sniffles as well, then swallows and clumsily shoves another spoonful of soup into his mouth, and then another.

They all eat in thick silence for a while, the clanking of steel chopsticks and spoons hitting porcelain the only sounds reverberating, accompanied by the occasional sniffle. Halmeoni watches them silently, fondly, and serves them more food. 

"Sieun-ah, thank you." Suho whispers against his almost finished soup before up-ending it, and looks back at Sieun over the bowl as he lowers it, Sieun giving him the softest little smile. 

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." is all he says. 

"I'd eat a thousand more of these." Suho stupidly blurts, "Can't you cook for me more often? It's summer vacation now."  

Sieun quickly becomes preoccupied with moving around the food in his bowl, then slowly mumbles, "Yeah, okay." 

Suho brightens. 

Youngyi pointedly ignores them. 

Later, once they're done with their entire breakfast spread, with Youngyi devouring every last bit of Halmeoni's cooking then oozing compliments over her dishes, Suho stops Sieun with a hand on his arm as he's clearing the empty plates into the kitchen sink. 

"Don't do anything. I'll wash." 

Sieun begins to protest, then Suho nudges him aside gently, "You cooked all morning. Go get some rest." and pats him on his butt and sends him away. 

Youngyi joins Suho to dry the dishes as he washes them, and gives him a look, then, "Sieunie made you seaweed soup last time. For your birthday." 

Suho pauses. 

"I know," he whispers, "he mentioned in... Well, he mentioned it to me." 

"Ah, okay, that's why I... I got emotional all of a sudden. And also because of the way everything turned out last time. I felt so sorry." 

Suho shakes his head, then nudges Youngyi. "It wasn't your fault. I understand now."

He hesitates, then, "Back then, I was confused and felt bad, I thought you guys were pranking me at first, then you never came back." 

Youngyi lets out a sad sigh. 

"It was the first time I'd had a birthday party with friends, to be honest." Suho shares, scrubbing a little harder at the dish to hide the sudden overwhelming vulnerability he feels. 

Youngyi suddenly turns back to see Sieun leaning by the kitchen entrance, gazing at Suho's back forlornly. Suho sees her staring behind herself and cranes his neck as well, and laughs awkwardly. "Sieun-ah, were you there the entire time?"

Sieun nods, his expression shuttering, then, "We have a schedule. Be quick." 

"Schedule?!" Suho calls out to his retreating back, then shoots Youngyi a puzzled look. "What did he mean by schedule?" 

Youngyi smiles, then elbows him. "It's a surprise. Come on, quick!" 

Halmeoni bundles him into the new windbreaker she’d purchased for him with Sieun’s help, and he twists around in front of the mirror and grins at her. “Halmeoni, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

She reaches up to hold his face in her hands, and squeezes his cheeks. “My grandson. You’ve grown up so well.”

He hugs her tight.

“I’ll be back in the evening.” he says, and she nods when he lets go, “I’ll keep you updated. Sieunie will too.”

“I know, I know, go have fun,”

She flaps at him and gives him fond pats on his back as he hurries along to where Youngyi and Sieun are waiting for him by the front door. 

Their first stop is a PC cafe. Suho laughs as he stands in front of the entrance, then goes up to Sieun and puts an arm around his shoulder. “Sieun-ah, I was really looking forward to the PlayStation!”

Sieun blushes. “I didn’t know you’d ask.”

Youngyi stares at them inquisitively, so Suho shares, “I’d asked if Sieun wanted to go to a PC cafe with me last night, so he said we’ll go to his house instead.” 

She laughs. “Ha, don’t I know you so well?”

Suho stares at her. “This was your idea?”

She nods. “Remember on one of our walks you stopped next to a PC cafe and said you wanna play?”

Suho ‘ah’s as they enter the cafe. “I’m excited. I’m going to order everything.”

Sieun gives him a look as they pull out chairs next to each other. “You just ate.”

“We’ll share!”

They game for the next couple hours, Suho raring his competitive spirit against Sieun, Youngyi tagging along and having fun, occasionally rage-baiting them and getting Suho riled up, then landing in a couple chokeholds from him as he curses at her. Sieun loses himself in League at some point, trying to win the game after Suho and Youngyi both die, and he forgets about the food, so Suho hand feeds him bites of his hotdog as they spectate and cheer him on, both just as immersed.

After what feels like only minutes, Suho looks up at the time to see that three hours have gone by, and gasps. “Sieun-ah, we’ve been here for ages!”

Youngyi groans next to him, slumped against her chair, clicking weakly at her mouse. “You’re telling me. The both of you are insane. Let’s go eat lunch.”

Sieun closes out the game, then nods. “It’s time.”

Youngyi gets up and punches the air, muttering, “Let’s go.”

Suho follows along amusedly. 

They end up heading to get braised short ribs for lunch. They enter the restaurant and take their seats, and Suho's excitement only grows as they place their orders. 

Youngyi eyes him. "Your stomach is a bottomless pit." 

Suho smirks at her then looks at Sieun, catches his eyes and winks. "Sieunie's seaweed soup really stirred up my appetite." 

Sieun blushes and looks back down at the table, and Youngyi groans and mutters, "Shut up." 

Youngyi then asks him about his GED prep, and he tells her about his plans, that he's waiting for Sieun to start helping him devise a plan to get ready for it by next April, that they’ll sit down sometime this week and start planning. 

She nods and takes a moment, then, "Do you plan on working part-time?" 

Suho shakes his head. "Doc said I'd need a couple more months before I can start exerting myself, just to be on the safer side. They've put me on a different rehab track, I'll have to go regularly." 

Youngyi hums. "Well, if you do, I have a couple connections. Let me know." 

Suho cracks a smile, and nods enthusiastically. "Thanks, Youngyi-ya. You're so dependable." 

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." 

Their short ribs finally arrive, and Suho's mouth waters as the table is set, and the pot is placed on the burner. "Ah, this is the best, seriously." He gets ready to dig in, and Sieun watches him in mild amusement, passing him a bib. He takes it with another wink.

Youngyi silently looks up and prays that the lord gives her patience. 

They thoroughly enjoy their meal, Suho putting bits of food he thinks Sieun will like onto his plate, and Sieun nibbles in quiet satisfaction as they chit-chat, Youngyi updating them on her work antics and her new friends. Suho casually asks about her roommate girlfriend, and Youngyi excited begins with, “Ah, yeah, she’s—” then stops short as she realizes and stares at Suho’s cocky smirk. 

Her mouth turns down in a pout. “Hey!” 

“What?”

She sighs and slams her chopsticks onto the table moodily. “She’s not technically my girlfriend.”

Suho snorts. “You seem to think so in your head.” 

She raises her hand threateningly to punch him, then lowers it, her eye twitching. “We’re kind of… feeling things out.”

“Feeling things… Youngyi-ya, are you in one of those, what do the kids call it these days? Situationships?”

Sieun looks on curiously as they wait for her to answer.

She throws her head back, a woeful expression on her face when she lowers it to look back at him again. “I guess, yeah. But she’s… We just haven’t had the conversation yet.” She picks at the side of the table. “You guys should meet her. She’s great.”

Sieun pushes the pot towards her as if trying to comfort her by feeding her, and says, “Okay.” Suho’s lips twitch fondly.

Youngyi brightens. 

Suho points his chopsticks at her and threatens, mid-chew, “She better not be playing with you.”

“She’s not!” Youngyi shakes her head defensively. “I swear, we’re just not good at talking about those things. But we get each other.” She gets a dreamy look on her face as she loses herself in thought, and Suho’s face scrunches up. “Ew.”

He gets a rolled up tissue thrown at him.

By the time they’re done, it’s half past 4PM, and Suho walks back from the restroom to see Sieun finishing up with a call. “Eh, what’s this?” Suho sits down. “Are we not splitting the bill?”

Youngyi ‘hmph’s proudly. “This working girl’s treat.”

Suho gapes. “Noona, you’re the best.”

She grins at him toothily. “Ha! You’re welcome, birthday boy.”

Sieun keeps their last location under wraps, so Suho’s curiosity grows as they board the subway with Youngyi. He guides her through by the arm whilst she’s busy texting, rolling his eyes as she leans her weight against him for support instead of the pole.

He turns his head to see Sieun looking out at the view with a serene expression on his face, blinking languidly. The sun glints low in the sky, bathing everything in a warm yellow glow.

Suho looks out too, and lets the peace envelop him.

When they finally arrive at their destination, Suho looks up at the sign and laughs. 

The Baku chicken signage stares back at them, and Youngyi looks on in confusion. “Sieun-ah, Baku owns a chicken shop?”

Sieun gestures at them lazily as he holds the door open. Suho waddles in with a grin. 

And then stops short as he sees a portion of the restaurant decked out in balloons and banners, set with a cake on the table, Sieun’s friends scattered around haphazardly on their phones. They look up when they see him, Juntae waving enthusiastically. “Suho-ya, happy birthday!”

Hyuntak makes his way over and throws an arm around his shoulder. “Sieunie was wondering where to throw you a little surprise cake-cutting, and the three of us wanted to pitch in and do a little something for you,” 

Baku grins as they make their way over, exclaiming, “Happy birthday, friend!”

Suho scratches the back of his head and laughs awkwardly, feeling grateful. “You guys didn’t have to do this.”

Baku dismisses him with a flick of his hand as Juntae goes to stick the candles in the cake carefully, Hyuntak going to snatch the little birthday hat they had lying on the table, putting it on Suho’s head. 

They settle Suho, Youngyi and Sieun into the booth, and Youngyi grins at the clumsily iced cake. “This cake is so cute!”

Juntae blushes and shyly says, “I decorated it myself, I hope it’s okay.”

Suho’s heart swells as he stares down at it, and realizes Sieun really found himself a great group of friends, then realizes that they’re his friends now too, as they smile down at him and Hyuntak lights the candle.

He feels the warmth of the candlelight spread, and finds part of himself hoping this is the start of a good friendship for all of them, looking back at Juntae and patting him fondly on the arm.

“It’s great, friend. I love it.”

Juntae smiles widely. 

As they sing him an off-beat happy birthday, Youngyi entwining her arms with his, he looks at all of them and finally shifts his gaze to look at Sieun, only to see him already staring back at him, studying him silently with somewhat of an odd look in his eyes. 

Suho smiles at him softly, wills himself not to get choked up, suddenly lost in the memory of his last birthday, and of Beomseok. He breaks his stare, then tentatively reaches a hand below the table to Sieun’s knee, and Sieun’s hand finds his and he entwines their fingers, squeezing lightly. 

He closes his eyes and blows out the candle.

Baku brings out a few soft drinks from the back afterwards, and they sit and catch up with each other, Suho’s hand not leaving Sieun’s the entire time, unconsciously gripping at it, pulled snugly into his own lap. 

By the time the gathering lulls into silence, the sun has long since set, and twilight has begun to fade into the inky blue of the night.

Baku and Hyuntak bring out fries and chicken wings, and Suho thinks to himself that just from the three meals that he’s gorged on today, this has to be the best birthday he's ever had. He thinks about Sieun, and the thought further cements. 

Then, they start talking about what they each want to do over summer, and Juntae stays quiet until Baku nudges him and prompts him to answer. He looks over at everyone and hesitantly begins, “So, my family owns this homestay in Gangneung,”

Baku gasps. “No way, really?”

Juntae nods eagerly. “Yeah, and so I’m going there towards the second half of summer. But…” he trails off, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket, and Hyuntak cranes his head, “What is it?”

“Would you guys… Like to… That is, if you’re free, maybe a couple days?” He finishes hurriedly, and the group silently stares, trying to comprehend and stitch together what was just said.

Juntae gathers his courage, then, “Would you guys want to come? We have an opening between guest stays, and it’s the perfect time for a vacation. My family usually reserves that spot so that the cousins can come over, but they’re all busy this year. It’ll be around the beginning of August. I can text you guys the exact dates. We can take the bus.”

Baku slowly brings a hand to Juntae’s shoulder, then squeezes, wearing an expression of keen anticipation. “Seo Juntae, are you being for real?”

Juntae nods. “Yeah!”

Baku immediately hollers, “Then obviously yeah, you punk!” 

Hyuntak nods enthusiastically, parroting, “Hell yeah!” 

Juntae looks at Sieun, and then Suho and Youngyi, “You guys are definitely invited too! Please come!”

Suho, a little speechless, looks over at Sieun, then back at Juntae, “Oh, uh…” 

Sieun nods gently at Juntae. Juntae, satisfied with the answer, looks back at Baku and Hyuntak, who’ve begun to chant ‘beach vacation’ together, arms on each other’s shoulders, and Suho snorts.

Youngyi smiles at them, then says, “I can’t skip out on work, but you two should definitely go.” She nudges Suho’s arm. Suho wonders if he’ll need the doctor’s permission, and then wonders about Halmeoni.

He decides to talk about it later with Sieun, his heart already racing excitedly at the thought of a beach vacation. 

“Juntae, you’re the best!” Baku booms, and pulls him into a chokehold, messing up his hair. “Bless you and your family!” 

Juntae goes red, and tries to shove him off, which only makes him tighten his hold. 

Suho cracks his neck and reaches for another piece of Juntae’s cutely decorated cake, shoving it into his mouth, and listens to Baku’s excited yammering about Gangneung as he searches up what to do there on his phone, Juntae nodding and adding tidbits here and there. They settle into a comfortable silence, then suddenly, as Youngyi’s leaning against his shoulder, she asks, “Why don’t we do karaoke?”

Suho perks up. “Now?”

Baku puts his phone down and claps his hands together, then high fives Youngyi, “Great idea! There’s a karaoke room close to here.”

Juntae nods enthusiastically, and says, “I still have time before I have to head home.” 

Suho looks to Sieun for confirmation, already finding him texting Halmeoni, and ruffles his hair fondly. He pulls away half-heartedly, then looks up at Suho and nods, “Let’s go.”

Baku whoops, already pulling Hyuntak out of his seat excitedly, and they make their way out.

They all squeeze into the karaoke booth, Youngyi and Baku playfully fighting for control over the remote, each arguing for a different song to start with, and Suho laughs before grabbing it from them. “Hey hey, did you forget whose birthday it is? I get special privileges!” 

Youngyi frowns at him, Baku quietening down as he starts pressing buttons, pulling up a 2NE1 song, and starts singing. Youngyi snorts, then joins him, throwing an arm around his shoulder. 

They each get a turn on the mic, and by the time it gets to Hyuntak, and he starts singing a ballad, Suho looks over to Sieun to see him yawning, his sweater paw coming up to cover his mouth. Suho grins, and leans in to whisper, “Tired?”

Sieun shakes his head, then stretches as he looks over at Suho, “Are you having fun?”

Suho nods, “So much fun.” He offers Sieun his shoulder, and Sieun rests his head lightly against it. Suho starts gently swaying with Youngyi, linking arms with her as Hyuntak belts Sung Sikyung off-tune, Baku bent over laughing at him, wiping tears away from his eyes, recording it on his phone. 

Suho cracks an amused smile, and tries not to think about Beomseok, and forces himself back into the present. Before he knows it, the mic is passed back to him, and he lets those thoughts fade away as they enthusiastically belt another song. 

When they finally shuffle out of the karaoke room, Suho yawns lightly. “Thanks, guys,” he says, throwing an arm around Juntae’s shoulders. “This was so much fun!”

Baku lightly bumps his fist, and says, “Don't mention it.”

Youngyi leans against the entrance, and reaches into her pocket. “Let me take a picture of us!” They all lean in as she turns around and holds her phone out, Suho pulling Sieun in with his other arm around his shoulder, holding him tight, throwing up a peace sign. “Say ‘happy birthday’!” Youngyi says, and then they parrot her as she snaps a couple shots, then puts her phone away and hops down the steps. 

Baku, Hyuntak and Juntae bid them farewell happily, promising to meet again soon. 

As they watch them waddle away, Suho invites Youngyi over, and they make their way back to Suho’s house on the subway again, Youngyi calling her roommate to catch up on the way back, Suho and Sieun listening in nosily. She bats at them in annoyance and goes to stand a couple paces away on the train. Suho rolls his eyes at her again. 

Sieun stares at her back, a contemplative look on his face, then turns to look at Suho. “Did you know?”

Suho tilts his head in question, then, “Ah, that she likes girls too? Yeah, she’d told me one of those times we met up.”

Sieun nods, then goes back to staring at her contemplatively. 

After Youngyi greets Halmeoni back at home, and all three of them use the restroom, they make their way up to the terrace and squeeze in on the ledge together. 

“Mind if I smoke?” Youngyi asks, bringing out her lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

“Go ahead,” Suho says, leaning back on his arms, legs crossed and shaking with restless energy. 

Youngyi lights up and takes a drag, then as she taps the bud, she casually says, “Karaoke kinda reminded me of last time.”

“Yeah, it did.” Suho says in agreement. He hesitates, then, “We had fun, back then.”

Youngyi nods and looks down into her lap.

Sieun stares out into the distance, lost in thought. 

Suddenly, Youngyi whips her head up at Suho, voice inflected with emotion, and says, “Suho-ya, I’m sorry.”

Suho turns to look at her, about to tell her off, then finds his voice dying in his throat when he sees the expression on her face. She looks at Sieun with the same intensity, meets his gaze too. “Sieun-ah, I’m sorry.”

Sieun stares back at her, his eyes searching hers, then soft understanding seems to settle in them. He gives her a little look of reassurance, and says, “It’s okay. I understand.”

Suho looks away, choked up all of a sudden. “Ah, what’s all this?” 

He rubs a hand down his face, then meets Youngyi’s eyes, and says, “I’m sorry, too.” 

They both break out into little smiles, and Suho lightly bumps her forehead with his knuckles. “Let’s stop apologizing to each other for the past now, yeah?”

She nods, wipes at her face, then takes another drag of her cigarette. “Yeah, let’s stop.”

The three of them lapse into a comfortable silence, and Suho takes a moment to reflect on the day as the breeze lightly blows past them, carrying the lingering scent of Youngyi’s cigarette smoke as she puffs at it.

Suho couldn't avoid the thought of Beomseok, and he'd cropped up at little points throughout the entire day, to his own dismay. He briefly wonders if Sieun and Youngyi had had those moments too.

Suho finds that whenever he thinks of him, he feels the memories come with a trail of resentment, anger, and confusion, and he tries to dismiss them almost immediately, but they linger, and they stick around in his brain matter, viscous and thick.

He closes his eyes, and wonders when the memories will fade into black and white and lose their intensity in his head, if they ever will. He wonders if it’s a piece of his past he’ll ever get to resolve on his own, if he'll ever get to resolve his anger, his inability to come to terms with the way everything turned out in the end.

He slowly returns to the present, feeling the warmth radiating from Sieun and Youngyi by his side, and thinks, it’s not like I’m alone, at least. 

He brings his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and trains his gaze on an airplane blinking in the distance as it travels over the lit skyscrapers, and says, “Next year, let’s go on a trip for my birthday.”

Youngyi grins as she puts her cigarette out on the ledge. “Hell yeah, where to?”

Suho shrugs. “We’ll figure that out later. But we'll go somewhere together, the three of us.”

Sieun quietly says, “I’ll drive us.”

Suho laughs fondly, and Youngyi’s grin widens as she exclaims, “Sieun-ah, that’s a promise! You’d better get your driver's license before then!”

“Yeah,” Suho pats his back energetically, “Let’s make it a road trip.”

Later, when they go back into the house, Youngyi hurriedly shuffles into his room, her socks sliding against the flooring, then comes back out as Suho begins to settle into the couch. He stands up, movements aborted, as she shoves a box into his hands, then pulls Sieun to come stand alongside her. 

“Happy birthday.”

He stares down at it, then back up at her, and then back down at it. There’s a Nike logo on it. 

She gestures at it, so he sits down and sets it on the table, and opens it. A pair of expensive white running sneakers stare back at him. He gasps, “Youngyi-ya!” and immediately gets up to pull her into a hug, giddy with excitement, “Seriously? Thank you!”

She beams when he pulls away, and says, “Glad you like it!” She nudges Sieun in front. “It’s from the both of us, we went to pick it together.” 

Sieun flushes as Suho pulls the both of them back in. “Sieun-ah, thank you!”

Youngyi laughs fondly, then leans up on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair as he admires the sneakers. “See you around, fool. I’m glad I spent the day with you.”

Suho turns back to look at her and pulls her in again, giving her a noogie. “Thanks, Youngyi-ya.”

She gives his butt a light pat and goes to hug Sieun goodbye, saying, “Send me a picture when you wear it!” as she makes her way to the door, and then waves a last goodbye after wearing her shoes, Sieun and Suho standing by the entryway and waving back. "Send a text when you get home!" Suho says.

She gives him a thumbs up, and when the door closes behind her, they make their way to the bedroom, yawning all the way. 

Later, once they’re settled in their respective beds, Suho turns to face Sieun and looks down at him, feeling a light, quiet hum of happiness lingering from the day. 

“Thank you for today.”

Sieun looks up at the ceiling with a soft smile. “Mm.”

Suho lets himself stare reverently for a while, then, 

“Sieun-ah, you think it’ll be okay to go to Gangneung?”

Sieun rests his head against his arm, snuggled up in his blanket, and hums. “We’ll discuss it with Halmeoni, first.”

Suho nods, and lets himself dream about it that night. 

He rests better than he has in a long while.

Chapter Text

They get their go-ahead for Gangneung.

Having received Halmeoni’s enthusiastic consent, and his doctor’s slightly cautioned one, they book their bus tickets with Sieun’s friends and begin to pack their bags closer to d-day. 

Suho, staring down his textbook in the summer heat, uses his sleeve to wipe at the sweat dripping down his temple as he clutches at a pencil.

“Sieun-ah,” 

“Hm?”

Sieun calmly looks up from where he’s neatly folding Suho’s clothes into his little suitcase. He’d come over earlier in the day to see Suho’s suitcase bursting to the brim, and the vein at his temple had nearly popped. When Suho, sitting at his desk, had seen his twitching eye, he’d casually blurted, “What? Is there a problem?”

Sieun had wordlessly gone over and pulled his suitcase to the middle of the room, plopping down with a sigh and unlocking it, then when he’d seen the artful mess inside, he’d dully remarked, “You’re beyond saving.”

Suho had sheepishly rubbed at his brow, then tried to help Sieun with rearranging, feeling guilty, but he’d been dismissed back to his desk to continue studying with the excuse that he’d better not waste time unnecessarily.

The neat freak just doesn’t want me interfering, Suho had thought, just a tad bit spitefully.

Now, he’s on his tenth math problem of the day and his remaining sanity is beginning to unravel, slowly but surely. He checks his equations again, then frowns down at the page. “This is supposed to be a simple problem, why am I stuck on it?” He lets out a frustrated huff, digging his pencil into the paper. 

“Just mark it and move on to the next one.” Suho pouts at the page, unmoving. He hears Sieun sigh from behind him. “Don’t get obsessive. I’ll help you later.”

Later, when Sieun helps him solve it, he groans loudly. “Ah, that was such a stupid mistake!” 

He slams his pencil against the desk and dramatically burrows his head in his hands.

Sieun blinks down at him in confusion. “Why are you so upset?”

“Because…” Suho looks up at him, expression taking after a sopping wet dog. “Because I want to make you proud.” 

Sieun goes pink, then abruptly turns around and stalks back to the suitcase, muttering a ‘shut up’ under his breath. 

Suho pouts at his retreating back.

Two days before they leave for Gangneung, Sieun comes over to Suho’s place as usual, but Suho notices his energy is a little off all throughout dinner. He wastes no time in asking as soon as they enter his room later.

“Sieun-ah, why have you been acting weird tonight?” 

Sieun pauses, then turns to face him, expression miffed. “I’m not.”

Suho blinks, then shrugs. He settles onto his bed, kicking off his house slippers as Sieun starts unfolding his mattress as per his usual routine. Suho begins to stretch, and decides to stare. He stares, and then stares some more, until Sieun finally sighs, settling on his mattress and facing Suho. 

“My mom…” He trails off, mouth turning down into a pout. Suho finds it impossibly endearing. “She wants to meet you.”

Suho pauses mid-stretch, then slowly lowers his arms. “Your mom… Me?” he points to himself, “Why?”

“None of your business.” Sieun responds reflexively, then closes his mouth, eyes guilty. He lowers his gaze, fiddling with his hoodie. Suho blinks at him in utter confusion, feeling vaguely insulted and bemused at the same time. 

He drops down to sit in front of Sieun, leaning his back against the side of his bed. He nudges his knee with his toes. “Sieun-ah, spit it out. Quickly.” 

Sieun looks like he’s fighting a fierce internal battle. Then, “We fought. It was because she wouldn’t let me go on the trip, initially.” He lowers his voice to a mumble, “Then I’d snapped at her and told her that maybe she wouldn’t have suspicions if she bothered getting to know my friends.” 

“Ah…”

“So she agreed.” Sieun plays with his zipper, face cringing, “But then the next morning she insisted on meeting you.”

Suho tries to understand why this is a problem, then fails, and conveys as much. “Why is this a problem? I’d be happy to meet her.” He nudges Sieun’s knee with his foot again, playfully. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“…I don’t know.” Sieun’s shoulders slump, and he lets out a sigh. “She’s trying to do her best now. But it annoys me.”

Suho hums, then leans in to ruffle his hair. “Sieun-ah, you’re really cute when you’re pouting, you know that?”

Sieun goes nearly beet-red and bats his hand away. “Cut it out.”

The nerves don’t hit Suho until he’s standing right in front of Sieun's apartment the next day, holding an assorted basket of fruits that Halmeoni had excitedly prepared for them. The basket is plastic wrapped in a little purple bow. Halmeoni had also seen Suho dress in his usual windbreaker and jogger getup, and thwacked him back into his room, squawking all the while: “Silly boy, can’t you make an effort?” 

He’d confusedly dressed himself in the beige knitted sweater she’d given him a long while ago, the fit a little loose now from all the weight and musculature he’d lost in his coma. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a pair of jeans, either. They were a dark blue, loose fitting. His hair was longer now, too, left soft and natural against his forehead. He could barely recognize himself in the mirror when he went to look. “Halmeoni,” he’d opened the door and she’d immediately cooed at him, fussing over his sweater. “Halmeoni… My hair, is it okay?”

She had nodded happily, patting down a few stray strands of hair, and had shoved the fruit basket into his hands. 

Now, he gulps in front of the apartment entrance, and nearly considers bailing as the nerves fry his brain. He suddenly isn't sure where he'd got his earlier confidence from when he'd so easily agreed to meet with her.

He gingerly gets on the elevator, checking his reflection nervously, then is hit with a moment of stark realization: why does he feel like he’s meeting his in-laws for the first time? He looks at his bewildered expression, then as clarity sets in, he decides that he needs to calm down and snap out of it. He shakes off the nerves and takes a deep breath as the elevator dings open, and he searches for Sieun’s flat number. 

Be normal. You’re Sieunie’s friend.

He finds the flat, and hesitates only for a brief second before pressing on the intercom doorbell. When Sieun answers, he goes, “Sieun-ssi, it’s me,” into the video stream, and waits. 

When Sieun opens the door a couple seconds later, Suho’s breath gets knocked out of him, and all thoughts go flying out the window. Sieun’s dressed in a white t-shirt and a black knitted cardigan, hair slightly styled and parted, exposing a sliver of his forehead. He looks so unbelievably soft and handsome, the hairstyle making the shape of his jaw a little sharper. He looks more mature, a little closer to adult man than teenage boy.

Suho feels himself go weak in the knees. Somewhere in the back of his head, his seventeen year old self revels at this precious sight. 

He notices Sieun similarly staring at him, expression carrying a bit of shock, and something else he can’t quite place. He laughs nervously, a hand clumsily coming to massage the back of his neck. “You look…” Embarrassingly, his voice cracks. He feels his face heat up. “Nice cardigan,” he finishes lamely. 

Sieun lowers his eyes, ears tinged a pretty red, and wordlessly opens the door fully. He gestures him in, stepping aside. 

Suho steps in, and he looks around as he toes his shoes off. It’s a nice apartment, he notes. Warm and welcoming, if a little bare. A little too clean and sparkly to feel lived in, but the aroma of food drifting in from the kitchen shrouds it in familiar warmth. 

As they leave the foyer, turning a corner into the kitchen cum dining room, he lays eyes on Sieun’s mom for the first time. She’s busy setting the table, dressed in all-white herself, a button down shirt and khakis. She turns at the sound of their shuffling, nervousness showing in the rigid way she’s holding herself. “Ah!” she exclaims as they make eye contact, and comes to greet him halfway. “You must be Suho!” 

Suho bows at her politely, then hands her the fruit basket. “Pleasure to meet you, Eomeo-nim. This is a little something from me and my Halmeoni.”

She receives it with a happy little smile. “Thank you, they look so fresh and lovely.” Sieun helpfully takes it from her and goes to deposit it on the kitchen counter. In the meantime, she takes his hands in hers, holding them gently. He hides his surprise at the affectionate gesture. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long,” she squeezes lightly, “I apologize for being late.”

Suho bows again, alarmed. “No, it’s fine,” he laughs awkwardly, “I was fast asleep, anyway.” 

Her smiling face takes on a slightly sad appearance, and she softly pulls him in by his elbow. “Come, sit.”

When he approaches the dining table, his eyes widen in surprise. “Bulgogi?” 

Sieun pulls out a chair for him, and Suho aims a small smile at him in thanks.

She laughs. “Yes, and japchae. I hope you like it.” She brings in the japchae and cuts of beef, readying the grill as she sits down. He then sits down as well, pulling the chair in. Sieun pours out water for them. 

She ladles japchae into their bowls, then starts putting meat on the dome-shaped grill. 

He sniffs as a spicy-sweet aroma fills the air. “Whoa, is this marinated?”

She goes a little pink. Suho finds it endearing, realizing both the mom and son share the habit of flushing easily. “Yes, I started preparing it last night. I like bulgogi the traditional way best.” His mom ladles some plain noodles into the broth on the side of the grill, mixing it around.

“Me too,” Suho watches as she moves the meat around a little, pressing down as it sizzles, his mouth watering at the aroma from the marinated juices. She gets up, grabbing cuts of lettuce from the refrigerator, and a bowl of pre-cooked rice from the microwave. “For ssam,” she says. 

He grabs chopsticks and begins to grill the meat along with her, after politely asking, “May I…?” and getting her enthusiastic go-ahead.

She smiles at him, studying him as he grills the meat.

He pretends his sweat is because of the hot grill, and not her laser sharp eyes on him. 

Like mom, like son, he thinks again.

“Dig in,” she says, shooting Sieun a smile after having studied him enough. They begin to eat, silence hanging in the air. The japchae is delicious. He conveys as much, voice inflected with enthusiasm. He tries not to shovel the food into his mouth haphazardly. 

She grins at him. “I’m glad you like it. It’s Sieunie’s Halmeoni’s recipe. Sieun-ah, do you like it as well?” She looks at him eagerly.

Sieun nods an affirmative, and Suho knocks his knee against his under the table affectionately. 

“I don’t have much time to cook for Sieunie anymore,” she continues, her gaze carrying weight as she looks at Sieun chewing his noodles slowly, “I feel a little out of touch with cooking, to be honest,” she nudges some grilled meat onto Sieun’s plate. “I hope you enjoy it regardless.”

“Ah, really? Eomeo-nim, it’s delicious,” Suho yaps, “As expected, I think Sieunie and Eomeo-nim both share talent with cooking,”

A pause.

She blinks at him in surprise. “Sieunie… cooks?” 

Sieun shoves the hot piece of meat into his mouth, and starts coughing into his bowl.

There’s an awkward silence, then, 

“Ah, yeah,” Suho scratches the back of his head, “I mean, he made me soup on my birthday, and it was delicious.”

“Oh!” His mom tries to hide the obvious shock at this new information. She looks at her son again, as if seeing him for the first time. She gulps, then delicately takes another little mouthful of noodles. Sieun seems to share her eating habits as well, perhaps unconsciously. Suho relishes in this information, as well as the delicious marinated beef. He seems to be learning a ton about Sieun today. He hides a pleased smile.

Mid-meal, his mom asks, “How has your recovery been? Sieun spent so much time with you after you woke up, but he’d barely tell me anything when he came back home.” She shoots her son a pouty look that goes ignored.

Suho smiles at her, swallowing his mouthful. “It’s been good. I mean, as good as it can get for a coma patient and all.”

She nods empathetically. “It can’t have been easy. But you seem like you have a good, strong head on your shoulders. At least, from the little that Sieun's told me. He has a lot of affection for you.”

Sieun, who hasn’t said a word all through this impromptu lunch, finally flushes, muttering, “Eomeoni.” 

“Ah, does he?” Suho shoots him a cheeky glance, and teases, “I wouldn’t know.”

His mom laughs, and Sieun turns a petulant shade of red. Suho, resisting his affection, continues, “I’m just teasing. Sieun’s very important to me too, Eomeo-nim. Without him, I wouldn’t have had the strength to recover, seriously. He’s the best.”

She looks at Sieun fondly as she says, “I’m glad he has a good friend in you. That’s all I want for him, really.” Her eyes go a little misty, so she needlessly busies herself with the meat again, clearing her throat. 

“Me too,” Suho says, simply. They continue to eat in comfortable silence. 

Eventually, Suho grabs a piece of lettuce, making a wrap out of the meat and rice and some of the side dishes, then handing it to Sieun. “Here, eat. This is really delicious.” 

He means to put it on Sieun’s plate, but the angle is awkward, so he hovers it between them. But instead of grabbing it like Suho thought he would, Sieun opens his mouth.

Suho feels his face slowly heat up.

Helplessly, he shoves it into Sieun’s waiting mouth, holding his other hand under his chin in case of a spill.

His mom’s chopsticks clatter against her bowl in surprise.

He refuses to look at her for the next few minutes, throat clearing uncomfortably. Sieun carries on with his meal, unbothered.

He doesn’t see the slow look of realization dawn on his mother’s face, after the initial shock washes over her. That day, she learns a lot more about Sieun as well. 

Later, he bids farewell to his mom, and she wraps him in a warm hug, sending him off with banchan and a little wrapped gift from her end, asking him to visit more often. He returns her hug with the same warmth, and he sees Sieun standing with a complicated expression in the foyer. 

As he walks him out of the house, he turns to Sieun in the elevator. “Sieun-ah, did you style your hair just for me?” He finds that he can't resist his curiosity.

The tips of Sieun’s ears flush for the nth time that day, and he self-consciously nudges at his bangs. “No. Mom forced me.”

Suho huffs, “So it wasn’t specially for me? I’m hurt, seriously.” he leans in, trying to meet Sieun’s eyes. “Sieun-ah,” Sieun looks up, expression complicated and shy, and he warmly murmurs, “It looks really good on you.”

The elevator dings open, and Sieun's panicked figure rushes out, leaving a gust of wind trailing behind him.

Suho bites his lip as a smirk threatens to take over his face, hopping out giddily and calling after him.

“I really enjoyed having lunch with your mom yesterday,” he says the next day, lying on his cool bedroom floor with his GED workbook open in front of him, Sieun sitting beside him and somehow still sorting through his suitcase. It’s probably his third or fourth time optimizing the space inside it. Suho lets him have at it, trying not to comment on it too much. He’s probably just bored out of his mind, tutoring Suho on basic math.

“Mm,” comes the indolent reply. 

“Does she like me?” Suho turns his head to face him, dropping it into his crossed arms.

Sieun’s hands pause in their movements for a second, then resume. “She does.” 

“That’s good.” he takes a moment to stare at Sieun’s profile as he methodically arranges his suitcase, then slowly prompts, “Sieun-ah,”

Sieun lowers his hands back into his lap after a little bit more shuffling, then finally turns to look at him.

Suho meets his eyes, tries to convey his heart, hoping his next words don’t tick him off too much: “I know it’s none of my business, but your mom’s trying her best now.”

Sieun’s gaze flickers away, staring blankly into Suho's workbook instead. Suho nudges closer. “Doesn’t make up for the past, I know. But you have her now, at least. Be good to her, won’t you?” he pleads, as gently as possible.

Sieun gulps, expression shuttering off. He resumes his previous activity again, hands robotically going back into the suitcase. He doesn’t meet Suho’s eyes at all. Suho sighs, beginning to feel like it wasn’t his place to tell Sieun how to be towards his mother, that maybe he crossed the line. He opens his mouth to apologize and retract his request.

Then, voice constricted and faced away from him, Sieun chokes out, “I’ll try.”

It’s enough. Suho looks back into his workbook, a tender smile playing on his face.

The day they’re set to leave, they wake up early in the morning before the sun rises. Halmeoni sleepily wraps him in padding, saying, “I know it’s summer, but you’ll be cold at the station,”

She makes sure Sieun’s got his on as well. 

Suho bids her farewell as she fusses over him and wishes him a safe journey, planting an affectionate kiss against her forehead.

In the cab ride on the way to the bus station, Sieun gets on a quiet call with his mom. 

“Mm. I’ll keep you updated, Eomma,” he murmurs, “yes, he’s here with me.” a pause, “Mm. You too.”

When he ends his call, he turns to see Suho smiling at him drowsily. His eye twitches. “What?”

“Nothing.” Suho lifts his arm and thoroughly ruffles his hair, sleepy and content. 

Sieun wriggles away from his affronting hand, annoyed and flustered. 

When they get to the station, they see their friends huddled together in the lobby. 

They’re preoccupied with staring into Juntae’s phone as he sits in the middle, immersed in what looks like a game. When Sieun and Suho get close enough, Baku looks up, a grin lighting up his face. He raises a hand, waving. “Yo!” 

Juntae and Hyuntak look up as well, Juntae exiting his game as they get up to greet them. 

“Ready?” Juntae breathes, nervous excitement laced in his voice. 

Suho nods eagerly, mouth twitching into a lopsided grin, Juntae’s excitement contagious. “Ready.”

They stash their luggage in the carrier and board the bus, Sieun immediately going for the window seat, Suho in the middle, Baku taking the aisle. Juntae and Hyuntak sit next to them on the opposite aisle. 

Once they’ve settled, Hyuntak passes them water bottles he’d thoughtfully bought at the station, and then he adds that there’s lots of snacks that Juntae bought as well for later, if they get peckish. Suho pulls his phone out to text Halmeoni that they’ve boarded, and that he’ll call her once they reach.

She replies with a cute sticker that he’d taught her how to use. He smiles.

Baku pulls out his phone as well, then pauses before offering one of his wired earphones to him. “Wanna watch?”

Suho curiously peeks. “What is it?”

”Slam dunk! Have you never seen it?!”

Suho shakes his head, and Baku gasps. “Friend,” he immediately pulls out of the landscape video screen, then scrolls all the way down the episode list. “You have to watch. C’mon, c’mon, plug the earphone in,” Suho obeys, curiosity getting the better of him. Baku presses play on the first episode then begins his chatter about the anime adaptation, telling Suho to read the manga too for a full experience. Suho nods all the while, and Sieun turns his fond gaze away from them. He looks out of the window instead, pulling out his own earbuds out of their case and plopping them in as the bus pulls out of the station.

He watches the scenery go by, and slowly, he drifts off into sleep, accompanied by the lull of the moving bus and Suho’s warm body heat next to him. 

When Sieun wakes, he finds that his head has somehow come to rest on Suho’s shoulder in his sleep, and jolts up in panic. Suho turns to look at him, brow raised. “Sleepyhead, you awake?” He offers an opened packet of biscuits to Sieun, and Sieun refuses. 

“How long did I sleep?”

“Dunno, but we’re nearly there.” 

Sieun startles. “Oh.”

He sees Suho struggle to contain his excitement as he looks out into the changing scenery, and suppresses a smile. 

Suho continues, “Baku made me watch and then read Slam Dunk the entire time. It was fun.”

Baku leans over, grinning. “Another successful conversion. Sieun-ah, you’re next!”

Sieun lets out a huff, then Suho excitedly chirps, “It's my first time going to a beach since I was a little kid!” 

Baku gasps, then relays the information to Hyuntak and Juntae when they curiously lean forward. “Oh!” Juntae claps, a wide grin spreading across his face, “I'm so excited for you!” 

Baku also takes a moment to hum, then, “I’m in the same boat, actually. Dad was always too stressed from running the shop to take me vacationing anywhere.” 

Hyuntak nods. “I haven't gone anywhere either ever since the whole knee fiasco happened,” he exchanges a somber glance with Baku, then breaks out into a fond little smile, and puts his arm around Juntae. “This is great! Juntae-ya, it was so nice of you to offer!” 

Juntae goes pink from happiness, unable to contain his excitement for his friends. “I hope you guys have a great time. Our rental isn't all that fancy, but it's home. And we've got furry friends too!” 

Suho and Baku perk up. “Dogs?” Baku asks.

Juntae nods eagerly. “And cats! Though they're a little moody and don't really hang around guests as much. But they're always hovering somewhere. And there’s a lot of great food in Gangneung too! I know so many places,” Suho exchanges a grin with Juntae, then turns back to Sieun, buzzing with excitement at the mere thought of food, but he finds his words dying in his throat. 

Sieun’s gaze visibly softens when they meet each other’s eyes, and everything else goes quiet, fading into the distance like white noise. Suho looks at Sieun, backlit against the rising morning sun, eyes bright and endlessly gentle, cheeks soft with the imprint of Suho’s jacket. He sees dust floating around him as the yellow-gold rays of sunlight flit through the windows, and for a second, he feels so grounded in the present that it's almost overwhelmingly visceral. He feels his blood pumping through his veins, his heart beating arrhythmically in anticipation, his breath catching in his throat. 

He wonders what Sieun’s thinking in that moment, irrationally longing to be closer to him. Sieun looks deep in thought, unlike Suho. He seems to be in a distant place, gaze lost in recollection. Suho thinks to ask, then decides that Sieun would probably want to keep it private. He lets him have that brief moment, studying his pretty face in the meantime. 

As Sieun comes back into the present, Suho offers him a little reassuring smile. Sieun returns it beautifully. 

A few long moments pass by like this, their friends’ chatter drowned out in the distance. 

And then, Sieun whispers, a secret that only the two of them can hear, a relieved statement of fact rather than a questioned reality: 

“You're here.” 

Suho, rooted in place: “I am.” 

They have to switch buses as they get to the city, and the last bus stop ends up being walking distance from Juntae’s place, so they lug their carry bags and luggage through a byroad littered with houses, a beautifully picturesque countryside stretching past the neighborhood. 

“It’s so pretty,” Hyuntak breathes, and Suho nods in agreement as he takes in the scenic view. When he looks behind him, down a little offbeat road that travels into the distance, he stops in his tracks. He sees a beautiful expanse of sea, reflecting the deep azure of the near cloudless sky. Staring down, he nudges Hyuntak. “Look there.”

Hyuntak turns, and gasps again. “Seo Juntae, what the hell! You live so close to the sea?”

Juntae pauses, and the rest of the group turn as well. “Ah, it just looks really close! It’s actually a ten minute walk from here. That road is closed off.”

“Ah,” Suho still feels an awe that he’s never felt before. Born and raised a city boy, never having had time for vacation in his teenage years, the only memory he has of the sea are tied to his grandma, when she’d taken him on little trips to Incheon twice or thrice. 

Even so, the faded memories of his childhood pale in contrast to the endless deep blue of the sea that he bears witness to now, glinting and roiling in the distance. 

He reluctantly turns back as the group continues to make their way forward. 

When they get to Juntae’s stay, they discover that it’s a quaint brick-house, split into two separate two-story buildings, one smaller and one bigger. They make their way through the sidegate and squeeze into a narrow little path surrounded by brick walls, lugging their suitcases through little pebbled steps and damp, overgrown grass that looks like it’s just been watered. 

Suho hears two sets of hurried footsteps, and then a little furry head pokes out from the end of the narrow path, followed by a very human one.

“Juntae-ya!” He hears an excited wail before Juntae is impacted by a taller, slightly chubby middle-aged woman, and a big white-grey dog at the same time.

Juntae laughs, stumbling back and dropping his carrybags, returning her embrace with one hand, the other one petting at the dog’s head as it jumps on him excitedly. “Auntie! It’s been so long!” 

She pulls back and squeezes his cheeks, pouting affectionately. “Have you been studying too hard? You’re thin like a reed!” Juntae wriggles in her grip, then bows down to pet the dog, and it licks Juntae’s nose as he greets it. “Grandpa Rocky,” Suho snorts, “you’re so old now but you’re still so youthful, huh?”

His aunt turns her attention on the rest of the group and ushers them in. “Ah, come in, come in, all of you,” Everyone squeezes past the narrow path into a little mid-sized backyard, plants littered here and there, a small fountain spurting water in the side. Rocky comes to sniff at each of them, friendly and cautious, his blue eyes bright and inquisitive. Baku leans down and gets a hand on his head, ruffling his soft fur, muttering a small, ‘hey, little friend!’ at the old husky.

Juntae smiles. “Auntie, these are all my friends!”

They take their turns in bowing as Juntae introduces each of them, shy but eager. His aunt looks on proudly. “Thank you for having us,” Suho says, grateful for their hospitality.

“Oh, you’re most welcome. It’s such a pleasure to meet you. Come, we might not have much space, but it’s really homely,” she babbles as she climbs up the patio steps, painted the color of red clay to match the brick walls of the house. She flings open a screen, and nudges Juntae and the rest in, continuing, “You know, we always asked why Juntae never brings his friends over, and he’d find one excuse or another,” Juntae goes red, “we were almost convinced he doesn’t have any friends at all, but look at you lot! Your uncle’s going to be so happy.”

Juntae sputters, and Hyuntak acts swiftly, going over to ruffle his hair and put an arm around his shoulder. “The circumstances just never aligned, Auntie. We’re happy to be here.” Baku tacks on, “Yeah, that’s right!” 

His aunt clicks her tongue. “That does make sense. You busy high schoolers. Preparing for university in Seoul can’t be easy. I’ll get you some refreshments while Juntae shows you your rooms.” She pats Sieun’s shoulder affectionately as she makes her way past him into a different room. Rocky follows her, paws pitter-pattering away. 

Juntae breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Tak-ah.” 

Hyuntak pulls him into an affectionate chokehold. “We love you, buddy.” 

He goes red and wriggles out of Hyuntak’s arms, adjusting his hair and glasses. “I hope you guys don’t mind sharing. We have two empty rooms, and I’ll sleep with Auntie in the next house.”

Baku booms, “Dibs on Gotak!”

Hyuntak rolls his eyes. “Fool. You think those two loveb—I mean best friends—” he coughs, “anyway, Baku and I will share, yeah.” 

Suho scratches his brow. Sieun looks unruffled. Juntae nods, moving past the obvious slip with practised ease. “Cool. Here, there’s a room on the ground floor, and one upstairs.” 

Baku and Hyuntak go to stuff their belongings into their room, and Juntae shows Suho and Sieun theirs. 

“Whoa,” Suho looks out into the nook behind him when they reach the top of the stairs. It opens up into a balcony cum terrace, lined with potted plants, a low-rise wooden table propped up in the middle. “This place is so nice.” 

“I’m glad you think so, my aunt and uncle take great pride in it.” Juntae opens up the room door on the far end of the hallway, pointing to the door further down on the opposite side. “That’s the bathroom. This is your room!”

The room is on the smaller side, with two single sized floor mattresses taking up most of the space, and a little table lined against the left side wall with a lamp sitting on it. There’s a screen folded up and leaning against the wall on the other side, and at the far end of the room is a little balcony with a sliding door, curtains half drawn. The floor is tiled a deep brownish red, keeping in theme with the rest of the house.

It’s warm and homely. It’s perfect, Suho thinks.

“I hope you like it,” Juntae says from behind them, nervously fiddling with a keychain tied to his fanny pack. Sieun nods before Suho gets a chance to reply, “It’s really nice. Thanks, Juntae-ya,” 

Juntae’s features pull into a happy little smile. He nods at Sieun, then says, “I’ll go down to check on those two. Feel free to get settled!” 

Suho and Sieun both settle their luggage in the corner, and Suho stretches and pulls off his jumper. “Sieun-ah, let me call Halmeoni,” Sieun nods. Suho opens up the sliding door to the balcony, stepping out and dialing Halmeoni’s number. She picks up almost immediately. “Halmeoni, one second, I’m turning it into a video call,”

Halmeoni voices an affirmative, and Suho sees her face flicker onto the screen. “Halmeoni, we’ve arrived! It’s so pretty.” He flips the camera to show her the view of the street from the balcony, and pans over to the sea glinting in the distance. Halmeoni gasps, comments on how lovely it is. He flips the camera over to himself and grins. “I’ll take lots of pictures to show you later.”

“Have a great time with your friends, stay safe and spend wisely,” he nods as she advises, voice frail and cracking through his tinny phone speakers, and then she squints and asks, “where’s my other little one?” 

Suho grins at her fondly, then leans his head back and calls, “Sieun-ah!” 

Sieun waddles over and Suho shoves the phone in his face. He immediately greets Halmeoni, features going soft and tofu-like. Suho has to resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. “Halmeoni, are you doing well?”

She fusses over him, and he nods and voices soft little affirmatives all the while, answering all her questions diligently. Suho leaves them be, exiting the room and going out into the veranda-like nook. Suddenly, his footsteps come to a stuttering halt.

There’s a pretty black cat sitting on the ledge, its grey eyes drilling holes into Suho, sleek fur shining in the mid-day sun. 

He blinks at it. It blinks back, then hops off the ledge, approaching him cautiously. He stays rooted in place, wary about making a wrong move and scaring it away. It comes to settle in front of him, staring up at him with probing eyes.

Then, slowly and awkwardly, he raises his hand. “Hello.”

It startles a little bit, hopping back on its hind legs. Suho flounders, then lowers himself down, hesitantly reaching out his hand. “Hey, sorry, don’t be scared,”

It stares at his outstretched hand for a while, as if contemplating. Then, having come to a decision, it reaches its little head forward to sniff at it, when suddenly, its eyes snap to somewhere behind his head, and it takes off with a ‘meow’. 

Suho turns his head to see Sieun hovering behind him, phone clutched by his side.

“Was that a cat?” 

Suho looks into the empty space where the cat was, then back at Sieun’s inquisitive gaze, and snorts. His lips quirk up into an amused smile. 

Sieun blinks at him. “What?”

“...Nothing.”

Those two look so alike. 

All of them eventually end up in the adjacent house, greeting Juntae’s uncle. He has a pleasant demeanor, much like his wife, just a little more soft-spoken. Suho notes his kind smile as he shakes his hand. “Forgive us for not knowing much about you kids,” his uncle says, “Juntae never spoke much about his friends before. He’s always been such a shy little fellow.”

Suho feels a small pang in his chest as Juntae looks away timidly. 

They gather around the dining room table, taking their seats as Juntae’s aunt lays out food for them, notably stuffed squid sundae. Sieun looks a little wary to try it, so Suho takes a bite, then says, “It’s soft and a little squishy. It tastes nice.” 

He holds his spoon up thoughtlessly. Sieun stares at it, then sneaks a bite and chews. 

Nodding at Suho, he picks up his own spoon and digs in. He doesn’t see Juntae smother an endeared smile as he explains the dish to Baku. 

Auntie comes back in, leaning against the doorframe as they hungrily feast on her food, and after a shower of compliments, she happily says, “Since it’s their first day here, Juntae-ya, you should show them around the city and head to the beach towards the evening. It’ll be too hot to head there now.”

Juntae nods, “Yes, auntie. That’s the plan!”

“Great! Well, your uncle and I will be out of your hair. Breakfast is on us in the mornings, you young’uns can figure out the rest for yourselves. Juntae-ya, take Rocky out on a walk if you can find time,” her voice fades along with her retreating back, and Juntae calls out, ‘okay, auntie!’ as she leaves, hand waving behind her. 

They make their way into the city after eating, Suho patting Rocky affectionately on the way out. Juntae laughs at him. “Rocky’s really taken to you, huh?”

“Really?” Suho asks, getting up from where he was leaning down to pet him. Rocky pushes his head between his knees. 

“Yeah, he’s usually friendly, but he doesn’t rub his head against anyone other than uncle.” 

Suho grins down at the husky. When he looks up again, gaze falling on Sieun, he sees a flash of movement, Sieun’s hand shoving his phone back into his pocket with a swiftness. Suho blinks at him, wondering what that was about, as he waves to Rocky and they walk out. 

Juntae takes them out to do touristy things, and they follow happily.

“The lake is really close from here,” Juntae says conversationally, as he leads them down a quiet street. “We can rent bicycles.”

“Ooh!” Baku goes to wrap an arm around his shoulder. He peers down into Juntae’s phone. “Juntae-ya, I’m touched. You’ve planned stuff out really well.”

Juntae nods, “Yeah, but it’s mostly beach time and a lot of food after we knock out some tourist stuff.”

“I like the sound of that!” 

They reach the lake eventually, renting out bicycles at a place nearby. “Sieun-ah, you know how to ride a cycle?” Suho asks as he puts his helmet on, and helps Sieun with his.

Sieun nods. “It’s just been a long time.”

“Yeah,” Suho breathes, “me too.”

They cycle around the lake freely, Baku and Suho turning the leisurely rides into a competitive race halfway through, laughter trailing behind them as they disappear into the distance. The other three, content with observing the pretty scenery, keep at their slow place, stopping here and there to admire nature, Juntae pointing to them the little things he observes.

Meanwhile, Suho and Baku collapse somewhere in the park, lying plush on the grass as the summer heat beats down on them, sweat drenching their backs. 

“Ah, that felt so nice,” Baku breathlessly huffs next to him. 

Suho stretches, looking into the blue skies above, white clouds drifting by unhurriedly. 

“It did.” 

He can’t remember the last time he laughed like that, felt the wind whipping into his hair as let go and pedaled hard on his cycle. He feels like a kid again. 

He turns to grin at Baku. “Race you back?”

Baku grins crookedly back at him. “Bet.”

The five of them sit down in the grass later, sharing bottles of water that Juntae had stashed in his little tote bag. 

It’s late in the afternoon, so Juntae suggests they head into the city by bus to visit the market downtown next. They return their rented cycles and walk down to the bus stop. 

On the way there, they pass by an aquarium, and Suho gasps, nudging Sieun. “Sieun-ah, look. It’s an aquarium.” Sieun leans over to look, a brief expression of interest flitting past on his face. “Wanna go?” he murmurs. Sieun nods. 

Suho looks it up on his phone and bookmarks it.

Once they reach the market, Juntae buys all of them hotteok. It’s delicious, hot and steaming, and Suho wallops it greedily. Sieun offers him bites of his as they make their way through, Baku pulling Hyuntak into a stall selling something that’s fried. Suho looks at him as he shoves the hotteok under his face, mumbling, “I’m full,” so Suho takes bites periodically when offered.

They end up stuffing themselves full at the market, and Juntae brings them to a little hole in the wall cafe that he says has delicious, cheap coffee. Two girls giggle as they walk out hand in hand, and the barista manning the counter greets them amicably as they enter. It’s small and homey, a big fan dispersing hot air, books stacked in every corner, scattered all over the place. 

They get their coffee, and then make their way to the beach, stopping by Juntae’s place on the way there to freshen up. Suho, noticing that Sieun’s all flushed, goes to their room and roots through Sieun’s luggage for his sunscreen and shoves it into his backpack. 

By the time they arrive at the beach, it’s early evening, and the sun is on its way down.

Suho gasps when he sets his eyes on the sea. It makes him stop in his tracks. 

Sieun comes to a stop next to him as well. 

He stares at the distant horizon in awe, feeling the overwhelming vastness of the blue ocean as it disappears into the sky. The waves are foamy white as they crash against the shore, rhythmic in their rise and fall. A bird squawks as it flies over them, and against the backdrop of the crashing waves, he murmurs, “Sieun-ah, isn’t it beautiful?”

Sieun hums next to him. “It’s so vast.”

“It is.”

Suddenly, Hyuntak calls them from a distance, and they turn around to wait for Suho and Sieun as they catch up. 

Before they can go near the water, Suho pulls Sieun aside under a little canopy, and pulls the sunscreen out from his bag. Sieun blinks at him. 

“You’re all flushed from the heat. Don’t get sunburned.”

He pulls Sieun’s limp arm from his side, squirting the sunscreen onto it, then does the same with his other arm. 

He lathers it onto himself as well, as Sieun slowly rubs the lotion in. “Here, for your face as well,” he holds the palm of Sieun’s hand up as he squirts some more onto it. 

Once he’s done, he looks over at Sieun again, and laughs endearingly. “Here,” he says between little bouts of laughter, “you missed a spot.”

He takes Sieun’s face in the palm of his hand, rubbing his thumb clumsily under his eye and on his cheek. Once he’s done, he nods in satisfaction, then suddenly asks, “Sieun-ah, you’ve gone so red. You okay? Need water?”

Sieun shakes his head, averts his eyes and stalks over to their friends. Suho trails behind him, confused.

Suho feels his excitement pick up as they get closer and closer to the crashing waves.

“Wah, it’s the sea,” he says, heart beating loudly in his chest. 

Hyuntak hops out in front of them, breaking out into a small jog, and then turning back to face them, grinning wide and carefree. “It’s the sea!” 

He locks eyes with all of them, then announces, “Race you!” and breaks into a sprint along the shore. Suho and Baku grin at each other too, then take off as Baku shouts, “Tak-ah, unfair! You had a running start! Redo!” 

Suho stops halfway down, then runs back at Sieun and Juntae, who are trailing behind them, and grabs both their hands. “Come on!” He pulls them. Juntae hesitates, then starts running as well, laughing giddily as he tries to catch up with Baku.

Sieun resists, feet planting firmly into the loose sand. As Juntae calls out, “Come on, Sieun-ah!” in the distance, Suho looks into his endlessly dark eyes, reflecting the light of the setting sun. 

“Sieun-ah, it’s the sea,” he says, breathlessly, as he grabs both his wrists and tugs. “Come, come, it’s the sea!” 

Sieun breaks out into the softest smile. It sets Suho’s heart ablaze. It makes him want to run.

Suho pulls him by his wrists into a walk, then turns around and grabs his hand as he breaks into a jog.

“Sieun-ah, what is it?” he prompts as he looks behind at Sieun and waits for an answer.

“It’s the sea,” Sieun murmurs breathlessly, eyes trained on him. 

“What? Can’t hear you!”

“It’s the sea!” Sieun echoes, a little louder, and Suho grins back at him, and breaks out into a sprint, pulling Sieun along.

They run across the wet shore, hand in hand, Suho laughing all the while as he looks out into the blurry horizon, chasing the imprint of the waves. He looks behind him to see Sieun staring at him, the glittering sea sparkling in his blown-out eyes, flushed and breathless and panting as he twists Suho’s fingers into a tight grip, keeping pace with him all the while. 

The sea answers them, its waves crashing down in roaring swells.

Once the group catches up to each other, they all collapse against the sand, tired and gasping from their sprint, landing up in some lesser-known area of the beach.

Suho sits up and stares down into the setting sun, its volcanic hues scattering into the sky, reflecting into the sea. He finds release that he’s never felt before, next to friends he never thought he’d get to have, next to a Sieun he never thought he’d get to have, either.

As far as second lives go, his seems to be going pretty great, he thinks. 

Juntae and Hyuntak gather wet sand and start building a little sand castle together as Baku strips his shirt and goes into the water, swimming into it like an excited labrador. Suho looks to his side, and sees something glinting in the sand. He reaches over, moving the grains away, and sees a beautiful, stark white seashell. It’s clam shaped and unchipped. 

He takes it in his hand, rubbing the remaining sand off, then crawls over to Sieun where he’s sprawled out, eyes closed. “Sieun-ah, look what I found,” he says, and Sieun cracks an eye open, then another.

He sits up languidly as Suho shoves it into his lap. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Sieun picks it up and examines it, murmurs, “It is.”

Suho smiles. “It’s for you.”

Sieun huffs, then looks up and returns his smile with a small little one of his own. “Thanks.”

Later, when Suho gets up as the group readies to leave, a muscle catches in his back, and he bowls over as he groans, clutching at it. 

Sieun panics. “What is it?”

“Ah, just my back,” he tries to straighten it, and it pulls further. Hyuntak immediately walks over, trying to locate the source of the cramp. 

“Here?” he finally asks, and Suho nods. “Hold on,” he murmurs, then wraps an arm around his shoulders and pushes in with his elbow. The muscle unknots itself eventually, and he thanks Hyuntak with a grimace. 

Still, traces of pain from the initial catch ends up persisting all the way back home, fading into a low hum by the time dinner rolls around. 

Suho furtively sneaks a glance at his bank balance as he settles into the first floor nook, Juntae going down to grab their ordered food. He makes sure he’s budgeting wisely, not wanting to spend too much of the savings that Halmeoni had given him. She’d told him not to worry, and to spend it as he’d like, but he knows they’re slowly running out. He tries not to feel selfish.

His back pricks in pain as he broods, only locking his screen and putting his phone away when Sieun joins him on the ground, having taken a light shower to wash the sand away. Sieun raises a brow at him as he settles, and Suho gives him a little shake of his head as a response. He goes to take a brief shower himself, hoping the hot water soothes his tight muscles.

When he’s out, Juntae’s already back up and they’re joined by Baku and Hyuntak, also freshened up. 

Juntae arranges their delivered food on the lowrise table, and Suho looks around for that black cat again, to no avail. 

As they dig in, Suho asks, “Juntae-ya, what’s the name of that black cat?”

“Ah,” Juntae says, “Mago? When did you meet him?”

“Earlier today, when we’d just arrived. He got spooked and ran away, though.”

Juntae nods, shoveling food into his mouth, “He tends to do that. He doesn’t really like humans.”

Suho hums, then forgets about everything else as his stomach growls, and he digs into his jjajangmyeon. 

The group lulls into hushed conversation, the exhaustion of the day kicking in by the time they’re all done with dinner. Baku pats Juntae on the back. “Juntae-ya, thanks. I had so much fun today!”

The rest of the group voices their agreement and their thanks, and Juntae grins toothily. “No worries, guys.” 

When they all retire into their rooms, Sieun trails behind Suho as he makes his way over to his mattress, clutching at his back and groaning. 

As he closes the door shut with a click, he offers, “Would you like a massage?”

Suho stops in his tracks, almost stumbling over the carpet. 

He turns slowly, and tries to make sure he didn’t just mishear what Sieun said. “What?”

Sieun’s gaze is steady as he repeats, “A massage.”

Suho’s eyelids start rapidly blinking. 

“You… What?” then, dazedly, “Yeah.”

Suho ends up face down, lying on his stomach, and Sieun gingerly settles on the backs of his thighs. There’s a pause, then Sieun’s hoodie is neatly placed by Suho’s head. 

Suho gulps, and tries not to stiffen even further, heart tightly squeezing in anticipation.

As Sieun begins to massage his back for him, his movements a little stiff but surprisingly adept, Suho melts into the mattress below. 

"How are you so good at this?" Suho asks, a little breathless from how good it feels when Sieun's thumbs dig into a knot near his spine. 

"Dad needed massages sometimes. He works as a Judo coach. He used to be active when I was younger."  

Suho pauses. "Wait. Seriously?" 

"Mm." 

"Is that why you were quick to pick up fighting skills? Sieun-ah, were you an athlete as a kid?" 

Sieun huffs behind him, works another knot by his shoulder, then replies, "No. I was actually pretty weak. I learned a little bit from Dad, but then we drifted apart after..." his movements stutter, then continue, "then he stopped." 

Suho almost asks, after what?  

But his flow of thought is interrupted by Sieun applying pressure right at the base of his spine, and he groans. "Sieun-ah, right there," 

Sieun deepens the pressure, undoing another knot, then slowly makes his way up his spine again. His touch is gentle, and his fingers leave traces of honeyed warmth in their wake. Suho tries to swallow most of his noise, sinking into the massage, desperately trying not to think about the fact that it's Yeon Sieun's hands on him, lest he loses his mind and goes into cardiac arrest. 

He sinks further into it instead, indulging in this rare moment of intimacy, his tense muscles finally feeling some release under Sieun’s deft, near clinical touch. Clinical as it is, it’s almost painfully human at the same time, in the way he kneads, applies pressure and releases it. There’s a tender grace to his movements, diligence and concentration in every press. Under his soothing ministrations, Suho can’t help but sink, and sink.

After a while, Sieun calls out to him in a low voice, dripping with honey as it melts right into Suho's ears through his massage-induced haze, "Suho-ya,"

"Hm?" 

A pause, then, "Stop worrying about money." 

The words startle Suho out of that haze. He blinks his eyes open, and begins, "I'm not—" 

"I'll take care of it." Sieun's hands keep in their steady movement. "I'd like it if you enjoyed your vacation without worry." 

Suho catches a hint of shakiness in his otherwise assured tone, and resists the urge to turn around and look him in the eyes – maybe it's the lack of eye contact that’s giving Sieun the courage to tell him these words in the first place. Suho's heart squeezes as he gulps. 

He wonders how Sieun always manages to catch the nuances of all his emotions. The fact that he was feeling bad about the condition of his body, the fact that he was worrying about spending Halmeoni's savings. These last few months have strained him mentally, every time he's had to depend on Halmeoni for allowance. He wonders if Sieun noticed that, too. He isn't used to financially depending on anyone for anything. As the days go by, it’s becoming increasingly difficult for him to use his circumstances as justification in his head. 

For some reason though, he wants to let Sieun take care of him for once, despite his staunch principles dictating otherwise. It’s a feeling he’s never had before.

Maybe it's Sieun's hands doing the convincing. 

He gives in without much further thought. 

"Okay," he breathes, and lets go, "thanks, Sieun-ah." 

He can feel Sieun's quiet satisfaction radiate from behind him, hands briefly stuttering, then bearing down again. He hides his dopey smile into his elbow. Sieun undoes another knot. 

Later, 

"You brought that up during the massage on purpose, didn't you?" Suho leans against the doorframe, having finished brushing his teeth and rinsing out his hair. It rests damp against his forehead, dripping down into the towel wrapped around his neck. 

Sieun's movements pause where he's unfurling his mattress, and he blinks up at him in a perfect display of innocent doe-eyed confusion. "What are you talking about?" 

Suho huffs, mouth twitching into an amused smirk. 

This little minx. 

He settles into bed, sated and loose, his back feeling better after Sieun’s massage. 

As he’s pulled into sleep, he hears the waves distantly crashing into the shore, sees traces of Sieun’s wind-worn smile, and feels the ghost of Sieun’s fingers against his back.

He sinks right into its warmth.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Suho wakes up to a curled up ball of fur next to him, staring at him with its big grey eyes. 

It’s almost a surreal sight. 

In his sleep-drunk haze, Suho rubs at his sandy eyes and tries to adjust his blurry vision. The cat remains unmoved, sitting on Sieun’s warm mattress and staring at him silently. He squints and disbelievingly slurs, “Sieun-ah, have you turned into a cat?”

He hears an amused huff, and lifts up his head, only to see Sieun paused by the door, wet towel thrown over his shoulder.

He collapses back against his pillow, face heating up in embarrassment.

“I was just joking.” / “Sure.”

“I really was.” / “Okay.” 

Suho looks back at the cat, now yawning and stretching its limbs gracefully.

To his continued disbelief, Sieun comes right up and tentatively sits down next to it, reaching his hand out sweetly, hesitantly. He wonders if he’s in a dream, if he should pinch himself. He looks on in fascination as the cat stares at Sieun, then reaches up and butts its head against his palm, and he slowly caresses down its spine. He looks at Sieun's slender fingers as his stiff hand parses over silky fur. They’re the prettiest hands he’s ever seen.

He remembers that those hands were on him last night, that those fingers and palms were kneading into his flushed skin through his shirt, and feels himself get flustered, so he gulps and turns onto his back again to stretch out his sore limbs.

After he’s done, he looks over to see the cat curled up in Sieun’s lap, Sieun staring down at it indolently, leaning back on his hands. Suho blinks. “I thought it didn’t like humans.”

Sieun shrugs. “It woke me up today.”

Suho sits up, tilting his head at it. His curiosity peaks. “Can I pet it?”

Both Sieun and the cat blink at him lazily. “You can try.”

As soon as Suho reaches his hand out, hovering it near the cat’s head, it immediately hops out of Sieun’s lap, hisses at him, and runs off. 

Looking at it disappear past the doorway, he blinks in shock, feeling confused and oddly hurt. 

Sieun looks at his pouting face and tries to hide his twitching smile.

Later, after breakfast, Sieun disappears for a while, and when Juntae tells him they’ll be headed to the museum soon, Suho looks for Sieun everywhere around the house. 

He finally finds him on the balcony in their room, phone held up to his ear. As Suho slowly approaches, he sees Sieun pull it away as it rings out and disconnects. 

Sieun turns around with a slight frown, then looks up and sees Suho.

“Sieun-ah, we leave soon, let’s go.”

Sieun nods, expression a little withdrawn. 

Suho mumbles, “All okay?” as they head out, Sieun grabbing his backpack. 

“Mm.” is all he gets.

Sieun is off all throughout the museum visit, staring blankly into space as they make their way through otherwise breathtakingly beautiful interactive exhibits.

Suho silently frets over him, and tries not to let it show as he attempts to distract him. “Sieun-ah, look at the colors. Aren’t the waves so pretty?”

Sieun nods, life slowly bleeding back into his features as the colors reflect onto his face. He finally turns to Suho, as if feeling his worry, and gives him a small smile. “It’s really pretty.”

Suho grins, and pulls him along.

After lunch, Suho and Sieun spend some time with Rocky in the backyard, playing around with him as he runs and jumps around. Sieun has a light smile on his face by the end, and Suho heaves a secret sigh of relief. 

Later, they sit on the patio steps, sipping on Auntie’s sikhye. Rocky sits and plays with one of his toys on the grass in the distance, when suddenly, he’s joined by Mago, the evasive black cat.

Suho elbows Sieun and nods at the pair, and they observe the two interact with keen interest.

He watches as the cat headbutts against the dog, pressing up close against his face and burrowing into it, prodding against it repeatedly, before flipping over and reaching a paw up to his patient mouth and nose.

He licks its paw kindly, gently nudging his face against the cat. The cat retracts its paw and meows, stretching. 

Suho stares at them and suddenly feels an unreasonable bout of envy. Nonsensically, he turns to Sieun and asks with an air of comically misplaced petulance, “Why don't you ever play with me like that?”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Then, Sieun turns to look at him like he's grown a second head, expression incredulous. “Have you lost your mind?”

Suho looks back at the furry pair thoughtfully. “Yeah, maybe.” 

When he looks back at Sieun, he's also staring at them with that same incredulous expression frozen on his face, eyes wide in disbelief. 

His ears and cheeks turn progressively pink.

Suho turns back and watches as the cat burrows into the dog's side and settles, meowing in contentment as the dog licks the top of its head, eyes sliding shut. Blinking, he ridiculously wonders why he feels jealous of them, and begins to think he really does have a couple screws loose. 

He shakes his head and shudders, and then stands up, silently retreating back into the house. 

Sieun sits there in all his incredulity, brain short-circuiting, skin blushing bright pink in the blazing afternoon sun.

Afterwards, everyone is so sated from a heavy lunch that they end up taking naps. Sieun, going upstairs with the intention of reading his book for a while, also ends up sprawled out in the first floor nook, snoozing with his book opened on his chest as Mago grooms himself next to him. 

Suho doesn’t feel all that sleepy, so he wanders the house, finding Juntae talking to Rocky in the backyard. He pauses in the patio entrance as he unintentionally comes to listen in on their one-sided conversation, unconsciously scratching at an inch in the square of his chest. Juntae’s back is facing him, so he doesn’t notice Suho.

“Rocky-ya,” he quietly says, and Rocky playfully nudges his knee where he’s sitting sprawled out in front of Juntae. “I have friends other than you now,” 

Suho’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Real friends, not survival friends,” Juntae whispers, “aren’t they such nice people? I’m real lucky, aren’t I?”

Suho, feeling a little overwhelmed, and finding his vision going a little blurry, turns and takes a couple steps back inside the house, then pauses and purses his lips.

He turns back around, and decides to join Juntae, announcing his presence as casually as he possibly can, calling out his name from a distance. Juntae startles, then turns around and brings a hand up to his face to shield it from the sun. He squints, then grins as Suho approaches him. 

“Juntae-ya, what are you upto? Everyone else is sleeping.”

“Ah, just playing with Rocky. Come, say hi.”

Suho squats, squishing Rocky’s face between his hands. “‘Sup, gramps?” 

Rocky licks his face. Suho scrunches his nose, and plants a sloppy kiss on his forehead. 

Juntae looks on fondly, snapping a picture. 

“Wanna take him out for a walk?” Suho asks, getting up and stretching. Juntae’s mouth forms into an ‘o’, then he nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, let me grab his leash!”

He scurries back into the house excitedly, and Suho turns to Rocky with a serious expression. “Gramps, we’ll take good care of him from now on, yeah?” 

He receives another affectionate lick against his hand. 

They end up walking around the neighborhood, then finding themselves in that quaint coffee shop that they’d been to before. Juntae asks if they can bring the dog in, and the part-timer happily affirms, even coming out to pet him and ask for his name.

As she readies their orders, Suho spots her sneaking glances at Juntae. His mouth twitches into a smile, and he looks between them as he thinks, no way, does she…? 

He studies Juntae, observing his pinkened cheeks as he grins down at Rocky, responding as the dog tries to make conversation in husky language, and thinks, well, he is pretty adorable.

Then he looks down at Rocky, and thinks, and the dog helps.

His suspicions are only confirmed when, as they turn to leave with their coffee, the part-timer desperately calls out, “Wait!” and slides out from behind the counter, slipping a note into Juntae’s hand. “Ijustthoughtyou’recute.” she says, blushing, then bows and slips into the backroom as swiftly as she came.

Juntae stands there, blinking into the empty space in surprise.

He looks at Suho, mouth gaping like a fish, then unfurls the note to see a sloppily written number, with the name ‘Yeeun’ scrawled under it.

“Did she mean me?” he whispers, confused. 

Suho, on their way back: “I don’t get it, why is it so hard to believe?”

Juntae, blushing furiously: “No one’s ever shown interest in me like that!”

Suho blinks. “No one?”

Juntae whips his head back and forth furiously. “I thought this stuff only happens in mangas.” Suho can’t help it, he throws his head back in a fond laugh.

“Besides…” Juntae hesitates, staring down at the note forlornly.

“What?” Suho asks, taking a sip of his coffee. Rocky trots alongside them, paws pattering against the pavement rhythmically. 

Juntae looks at him, biting his lip nervously, then says, “Nothing.”

It makes Suho narrow his eyes, feeling nosy all of a sudden. He creeps closer and tries to meet Juntae’s downturned gaze. Juntae avoids it, attempting to sidestep him. Suho ends up cornering him by the side of the wall, leaning his body against it as he stands in front of him and stares him down. Rocky slows to a halt a few paces away, tail wagging and tongue sticking out as he tilts his head back in confusion. 

“I’m…” he sees Juntae steel himself, take a deep breath, and close his eyes tightly shut as he says, “I’m gay.”

Suho pauses. 

Then, “Oh, cool. Me too.”

Juntae squints one eye open at him, and then another, and then heaves a big sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. 

Suho blinks at him. “Dude, did you think I was gonna beat you up?”

“No!” Juntae flaps his hands frantically, Rocky’s leash whipping around. Rocky comes to stand next to Suho, looking up at Juntae with his ears perked up, as if equally invested in this conversation. “No, no. I’ve just never really told anyone about it, other than that guy,” he gestures at Rocky, “so it felt good to get it off my chest.”

Suho’s face slowly breaks out into a grin. He goes to wrap an arm around Juntae’s shoulders and pull him in close as he takes another sip of his coffee. “So, got any crushes?”

Juntae immediately goes beet-red, answering, “No,” a little too quickly.

Suho’s eyes narrow, then he ruffles Juntae’s hair. “Buddy. You totally do!”

“Do not!”

“So do.”

A pause. Then, curiously, “Is it Baku?”

Juntae, horrified: “No!”

“Hyuntak, then?”

“No! Not any of them!”

Suho gasps and stops in his tracks, whispering, “Juntae-ya… Is it Sieunie?” 

Juntae rolls his eyes. “You can keep him.”

“That’s righ—what?” 

Juntae skips away, his steps light, with his pinkened cheeks and happy grin, Suho trying to catch up all the while as Rocky happily trots around them. 

When the rest of the group wakes up, they decide to make their way to the beach for a lazy evening, none of them feeling particularly up for anything strenuous. 

Suho catches that Sieun’s mind is elsewhere again, and brings it up later when they’re sat by each other at a random spot on the beach, having walked aimlessly as the rest lazed around, each doing their own thing.

“Sieun-ah, are you okay?”

Sieun doesn’t answer, lost in thought. 

Suho softly prompts, “Is it your mom?”

When Sieun still doesn’t answer, he turns to look at the setting sun, tinting the skies in flaming twilight.

As they gaze out into the endless burning sea, Sieun murmurs, “I thought I was the reason for my parents' split.”

Suho puts his head in his arms, propping them up on his knees and tilting to stare at him. “Why?”

“Whenever I’d hear them fight, it would be about me. Their biggest fight was about me, too.”

Suho feels a lump form in his throat, imagining little Sieun having to hear his parents’ muffled arguments through his bedroom wall, and blaming himself as the cause. His heart aches for him. 

“I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Sieun lowers his head, looking down into his lap. “I was really scared.” 

Suho shakes his head. “Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah,” Sieun sighs, “I know that now. Rationally, at least.”

Suho childishly wishes he could take Sieun’s pain away. He realizes that for a kid with such a soft, fragile heart, and such a kind and trusting disposition, he’s experienced far too much pain and loneliness in his life. 

Suho puts a hand in his hair, ruffling it quickly before pulling away. He gets up, dusting the sand off his butt, then offers both his hands to Sieun.

Sieun looks up, doe-eyed and sweet. 

Suho gestures with his hands. “Come on, up.” 

Sieun grabs on, lets himself be pulled up, and Suho dusts the sand off his butt for him too, then pulls him by the wrist into a walk. 

“Where are we going?”

Suho shrugs. “Anywhere.”

They walk, and walk, until they end up standing on an outcrop of rocks by the shore, waves beating fiercely against them as the evening tide sets in. The winds are slightly sharper, colder now. 

Sieun squats, and curiously lowers his hand to catch the waves as they beat against the side of the rock. 

Suho stands next to him, letting himself feel peace envelop him as he stares into the setting sun as it disappears below the horizon. Eventually, his tone inflected with emotion, he murmurs with a quiet confidence: “Sieun-ah, anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

Sieun looks up at him, then back down at the fierce waves as they crash and foam.

Finally, when he answers, his voice is small and shaky. “Thank you.”

After dinner, Juntae brings out yutnori and halli galli, and they gather around the table in the nook to play. Suho and Hyuntak end up as a team for yutnori, clutching at each other’s thighs every time the sticks are thrown, trying to over-strategize to no avail. 

Sieun somehow manages to roll an unreasonable amount of yut’s and mo’s, almost to the point where it stops being exciting. Suho wonders which god of luck he has on his side. The game turns intense as it picks up pace, and before they know it, both teams are nearly tied for the last round, with Hyuntak and Suho only needing a geol or a yut to get their last piece out. 

Everyone looks on in anticipation and bated breath as Suho gets ready to throw the sticks, silence so thick they’d be able to hear a pin drop. 

He lands a yut.

There’s an immediate explosion of noise as Suho and Hyuntak leap up to hug each other, jumping around in excited circles as they yell. “Ha!” Hyuntak points at Baku’s gloomy face, “In your fucking face! Ha!”

Juntae groans and falls backwards.

Suho catches Sieun’s eyes, and sees him suppressing a small smile as he stares at Suho. He looks away and arranges his expression as soon as he's caught. Suho’s heart skips a beat.

Later, Hyuntak and Baku end up getting a little too competitive with halli galli, and when Baku wins, he jumps up and sticks his ass out petulantly at Hyuntak. He ends up on the ground as they wrestle each other, everyone staring at them in equal amusement, Juntae filming the entire spat.

Suho and Sieun end up tiredly rolling out their mattresses as they yawn. It’s late into the night, after a good few hours of getting carried away with game after game. Suho plops onto the mattress, sleep pulling at his tired limbs. When he closes his eyes, he can still feel the slight vertigo of the waves dragging at his feet in the wet sand. It’s a pleasantly disorienting feeling, an imprint left by the sea.

In the darkness, Sieun sleepily whispers, “Suho-ya,”

“Hm?” Suho turns to him, even though he can’t see anything but a vague silhouette. 

“If…” 

Sieun trails off, hesitant. Suho prompts, “If?”

”If I’m not good to my mom, what would you think of me?” 

The question is slurred in a vulnerable whisper. It catches Suho off-guard. His first knee-jerk, thoughtless reaction is, why would you care what I think about that?

But he turns his head back to face the ceiling, and gives it some thought. 

Then, he slowly replies, “I guess… I would try my best to understand.”

A pause, then blearily, “And if you can’t?”

Sieun frowns, then he turns back to Sieun. 

“Sieun-ah, why are you asking me this? Did something happen? Tell me.”

He can see Sieun slowly shake his head. “Nothing happened. It’s just,” Sieun’s voice catches in his throat. Suho senses something’s off, and nudges closer as he hears a sniffle. 

Suho’s heart stutters, and he pulls him in immediately, wrapping his hand around Sieun’s head, pulling him against his chest. Sieun folds in.

The only indication that he’s crying is the wetness that forms on Suho’s thin cotton shirt, and the slight tremble as Suho runs his hand down his back.

He realizes Sieun has been silently suffering in more ways than one, through these years, his long-festering loneliness only compounded by Suho’s absence. He swallows, feeling an acute pain in his chest, hating that he added to Sieun’s loneliness and suffering. He doesn’t want Sieun to feel like he’d ever judge him, or disapprove of him, he doesn’t want him to feel like he’d hold anything but love for him in his heart.

And as promised, he tries his best to understand.

“Sieun-ah,” he whispers, a comforting call, a reminder that Suho’s here, as he gently rocks him. “Is it very difficult?”

Sieun nods, his body beginning to shake harder.

Suho tears up, running a hand through his hair, gently caressing the soft strands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for speaking without knowing.”

Sieun shakes his head, hand coming to wrap around Suho’s waist. He pushes his face further into Suho’s chest. Suho gently pats him. Another tremor wracks through him, so Suho holds him tighter. 

“It’s just…” Sieun’s murmur is muffled, and he hiccups. “It’s just that sometimes, I don’t want to understand her.”

Suho gently tucks his hair behind his ears. 

“Just like how she never tried to understand me.”

His heart breaks, and he holds Sieun tighter, and tighter. He wonders: how long has Sieun held his sorrow in, for it to wrack and pulse through his body so heavily? Feeling out of his depth, not knowing what to do or say to make him feel better, his fingers come to gently coax Sieun’s face up, and he moves a few strands away from his forehead, placing a gentle kiss there. “Sieun-ah,” he murmurs against his forehead, and Sieun shivers against him, “no matter what happens, you know I’ll always be by your side, don’t you?” 

He feels him nod.

“You don’t have to be anyone but you.”

Sieun sniffles, then brings a hand up to wipe at his eyes and under his nose. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice hoarse. Suho shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry.”

Sieun eventually falls asleep from exhaustion. Suho holds him, only gently depositing him back onto his mattress once he’s deep in sleep, tucking him in reverently.

He sits back on his mattress and pulls his knees up to his chest, spacing out for a long while, wondering how he can do better by Sieun. He wishes for answers as his heart beats restless against his chest, until sleep eventually pulls him in untethered. 

Suho sleeps restlessly, and ends up dreaming about his last memory with his parents. 

In the memory, they’re reassuring him as he cries, saying they’ll be back soon.

He feels his dad’s warm palm on the top of his head, his mom wipes his tears with her hands as she leans down in front of him at the airport, suitcases packed and waiting behind her.

He doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t want them to leave. They insist that they must, and that they’re sorry. He doesn’t want to hear their sorry.  

He feels an ache deep in his chest, and he wants it to stop. 

It’s a visceral ache, one that only deepens as he watches his parents’ retreating backs, clutching at his pink rabbit stuffed toy and wailing. Halmeoni stands in solemn silence by his side, as if mourning.

He wails, and wails, until he physically can’t anymore, and the tears are forced to roll down his cheeks silently, and the bitter ache of loneliness settles somewhere deep in his chest.

“Sieun-ah, what right does someone who’s basically parentless have to tell you how to be with yours, anyway?” He knows it’s not the right line of reasoning, but he blurts it out anyway, heart restless from his dream.

They're walking by the shore in the early morning of the next day, watching the waves crisply break in, break out, feeling their gentle, teasing sway beneath their feet. 

Sieun stops, but Suho keeps walking, looking out into the distance, hands clasped behind his back. “Guess I was speaking from lack.” 

He feels his throat slowly close up. 

As a wave recedes, Suho spots what looks like a seashell next to his feet, so he leans down to pick it up, hiding his vulnerability to say: “I just want you to have all the good things.” 

His fingers listlessly prod at the seashell. He finds that it’s chipped, and contrarily tries to bury it in the sudden cloudy haze that his whispered confession sent him into—when he feels a crushing weight against his back, almost tipping him off balance. Arms twine over his shoulders, and Sieun’s warm face burrows into the crook of his neck. 

Sieun exhales, and it tickles. Suho laughs fondly as his hands come to hold Sieun’s arms. 

Sieun whispers, intimate and raw, “Ahn Suho, I like you the most.”

Suho’s eyes flit back up in shock. The confession, in all its childlike innocence, softly hits his ears, rings out into Suho’s heart, and buries itself there, making time slow down. His vision adjusts its unfocused lens, and he sees a foamy wave impact in slow motion, sea salt bubbling and fizzing as it recedes. Before he knows it, he’s frantically whispering, “Sieun-ah, hold tight,” and picking him up by the backs of his thighs.

He hears Sieun gasp, then hold tighter onto his neck as he bounces him further into his secure grip.

One foot in front of the other, then he’s taking off into the waves, submerging himself in that ice-cold sea, pulling Sieun in with him, wading through the resistance. As their bodies impact the heavy water, seabed giving way underneath his feet, he can hear Sieun’s panicked voice saying, “What are you—”

But it’s too late, and they’re submerged underwater for a long second, and the raging water gushes into his nostrils and his ears, before he pulls his head back up and turns around, grabbing Sieun’s hand where it flails as he spits water out of his mouth. 

“Are you insane?!” Sieun coughs, hair wet and sticking to his forehead. He’s completely drenched. 

“Yeah,” Suho says, then tugs them in deeper. “Sieun-ah, I want to show you,” he says, nonsensically. 

“Show me what?” Sieun resists, but Suho grabs both his hands under the water as they crest the waves, neck deep. 

“The sea.” 

It makes no sense. He knows Sieun can’t understand the language he’s speaking in. But he looks at him with bright intensity nonetheless, hoping that instinctively, Sieun gets some part of it, at least. 

He holds his hands tighter, never losing contact with Sieun’s eyes, and lets the sea pull them in deeper until his frantic, restless heart eventually settles, drowned out by those roaring tides.

As they slowly make their way back out, thoroughly drenched and sopping wet, Sieun glares at him with the likeness of a cat that was forced to take a bath.

Suho cracks a crooked grin, and finally responds, “Sieun-ah, I like you the most too.”

He gets a petulant splash of water aimed right at his face, and he evades it with an arm as his grin spreads wider. 

Sieun levels him with a murderous glare, and he’s never looked prettier. When he threatens, “I’m going to kill you,” the words have never sounded sweeter.

Suho winks at him, smirking as he walks the last stretch onto the shore backwards, and he promptly takes off running. 

On their way to join the rest of the group, Suho feels his knee act up, and he sighs.

When they get to the spot Juntae’s set up in, he waves at them. 

“Did you have a good soak?” as he passes them towels. 

Suho grins at him cheekily. “Yep!” 

He can feel Sieun’s piercing glare aimed at the back of his head. He ignores it, instead looking around for Baku and Hyuntak. He sees them splashing around in the water in the distance. 

He hears Juntae say, “They were inspired by you two.” 

He settles onto the mat with Sieun and rubs his knee unconsciously as the pain pulses down his lower leg. “The water’s really cold, though.”

Juntae shrugs. “I warned them.”

Later, he looks up from his phone to see Hyuntak walking over, dripping wet and shivering, and passes him a towel once he reaches.

He receives it with a warm ‘thanks’, then comes to sit in the empty space beside Suho. “Juntae and Sieunie?”

Suho gestures with his chin into the distance, rubbing at his knee. “He’s roped Sieunie into searching for crabs.”

Hyuntaks lets out an amused snort. “Look at Sieunie,” he slowly breaks out into an endeared grin as he nods towards him, “he’s so serious about it.”

“Yeah, once he’s fixated, nothing can come in his way.” Suho finds himself also smiling, gaze softly resting on Sieun’s back as he squats down and begins studying crab holes. Juntae curiously mimics him like a baby duckling, hands floundering. 

“You okay?” 

Suho whips his head around to see Hyuntak giving him a contemplative look. 

When met with silence, Hyuntak elaborates, “You seem a little out of it.”

Suho sighs, wondering if he’s that obvious. “Yeah, yeah I’m…” he trails off, then beats down with his fist against his thigh, “My body’s just, you know,”

“Yeah,” Hyuntak lets out a long exhale as well. “I get it. Sometimes you can’t help but feel like it's betraying you, somehow. Even though you know rationally that it’s not your body’s fault that it’s ended up like this.”

Suho nods wordlessly, reluctantly feeling his vision go a little misty.

“After my knee got all fucked up, there were days I didn’t even want to get out of bed. It was already so mangled, but I felt so much resentment towards it for not healing that it would get worse and keep flaring up. And every flare up was worse than the previous one. I had no hope. To be honest, Huminie was my only saving grace at that point.” Hyuntak shares, bringing his knee up and patting at it. Suho slowly shifts his watery gaze back to Sieun. 

“It took me a while to accept it, basically. The fact that my knee wouldn’t get back to its previous state. And the fact that I had to give up my dream of being a professional athlete. Everyone kept telling me how lucky I was that I was able to mobilize it fully again, and get it back to a healthy condition, but I could only think about everything I lost. And I’m still not a hundred percent there, you know?”

Hyuntak pauses, then laughs nervously, “I’m blabbing too much, huh? Sorry.”

“No,” Suho immediately turns to him, giving him a warm smile. “Not at all. Thanks, Tak-ah. Feels a lot better knowing someone can relate.”

He returns Suho’s smile. “That’s good. Hang in there, buddy. You’ll get there one day.” He holds his hand out for a fistbump, and Suho returns it with a fond huff. “We’ll do some stretching when we get back, yeah?” Suho nods.

“Let’s do that.” He cracks his neck, stretching his hands out above him and groaning. “Honestly, I don’t even have any greed for MMA anymore,” Suho shares, “I’m just so used to my body being a certain way. It’s slower now, weaker. It doesn’t really feel like it’s mine. It trips me up.” Hyuntak nods understandingly. 

“I get it,” he says. “Takes a while to adjust. I guess it’s like suddenly having to wear shoes that are a size too small. But I think acknowledging how weird it feels is an important first step.”

”Yeah, guess you’re right.” 

Just then, Baku hollers at them as he makes his way back from cresting the waves. “Woo!” he cries, grabbing a towel from Hyuntak and shaking his head like a dog in front of them, sending water spraying everywhere. 

“Hey,” Hyuntak whines. Baku apologizes whilst towel drying his hair aggressively. 

“So listen, I struck up a conversation with this local dude while I was riding the waves, and he said the surfer beach is really fun. He said he’s good friends with an instructor there, too. What say you?”

He looks expectantly at the both of them. 

“Ah,” Suho smiles warmly at him, “Sounds like a lot of fun, but I’ll pass. Doc advised against any stressful activities.” He nudges Hyuntak, “You two should definitely go, though!”

Baku deflates. “But…” Hyuntak shoots him a look, so he concedes. “Yeah, it can get dangerous. Okay, let’s see. You, Sieunie and Juntae should do something too, then. Doubt either of those nerds would wanna learn how to surf.”

“You’d be right,” Juntae says from behind him. Baku jumps. 

“But if you’re planning to go, you should leave within the next ten minutes, the place gets crowded later,” he continues. 

Sieun comes up to sit on Suho’s other side, depositing a pretty looking sea shell on his thigh. “So cute,” he murmurs, “Sieun-ah, did you pick it for me?” Sieun nods. Suho’s heart squeezes. He resists the maddening urge to pull at his pink, sun-kissed cheek. 

Hyuntak checks the time on his watch. “But then what will you guys do?”

”Ah,” Juntae checks his phone, “Auntie is calling me to help with something around the house. I’ll head back for a bit, why don’t we reconvene for lunch? I was just telling Sieunie that the aquarium is a good idea. You two should go there!” He looks between Suho and Sieun excitedly.

Suho grins at Sieun. “Ah, I knew you’d wanna visit that place!” 

Sieun averts his gaze, shy. 

They decide to part ways, agreeing to meet up back at the house, Juntae helping them with directions. Suho and Sieun decide to walk to the aquarium despite the warning that it’ll be a slightly long one. Suho makes the excuse of needing to get some exercise in, and drags Sieun away with him, secretly just wanting to extend his alone time with him as much as possible. 

As they walk, Sieun pulls up the navigation on his phone, entering the name of the aquarium and getting directions there, just in case they get lost.

Suho cradles the sea shell in his hands, reluctant to put it in his backpack. It’s conch shaped, and it’s got a delicate pink-purple shine on its white coat. It’s a lot prettier than anything Suho had managed to find for Sieun. He suddenly feels a rush of competitiveness kick in, nonsensically thinking, tomorrow, I’m going to find him an even prettier one. 

Sieun totters along, blissfully unaware.

Suho wraps it in tissue paper and gently places it inside a pocket in his backpack, then they walk in companionable silence all the way to the aquarium, using their voices only to confirm which turns they need to take. Halfway through, Suho sees Sieun gazing over at a streetfood stall selling bungeoppang, so he stops to buy them one each. Suho wallops it, and Sieun contentedly nibbles at his the rest of the way. Suho makes a silly note to himself that Sieun likes to eat it head first. 

When they get to the aquarium, Suho examines the giant stingray on exhibit right near the entrance in fascination. “Whoa,” he breathes, “it’s huge!”

“Yellowtail.” Sieun murmurs beside him. 

“That tail looks like it stings like a bitch.” 

Sieun’s lip quirks up. “It does.”

When they get to the ticketing counter, they’re welcomed with a pleasant ‘hello’, and Suho returns the attendant’s greeting amicably. Sieun insists on buying their passes, softly elbowing him out of the way. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, discovering now that Sieun likes treating him to things, the same way Suho likes feeding him. The attendant hands them their tickets and they make their way into the aquarium.

As soon as they encounter their first glass tank, filled with shark fish, it’s as if the rest of the world melts away for Sieun. Suho watches fondly as he goes up to examine the fish, reading the excerpts on the side panels of different species and their descriptions. Suho idles along. 

They make a turn, and Suho’s greeted by an inquisitive turn of the head from a little creature. “Sieun-ah!” he gasps, walking right up to the glass, startling the little guy who was looking at him in curiosity. “It’s an otter!”

Sieun lets out a small huff of amusement. “You’re scaring it.” 

Suho waves enthusiastically. “Hey, I’m a friend!” 

The otter tilts its head at him, then dives into the water and starts playing with its floating basketball. Suho looks on in fascination. “Whoa, he’s so cute.” He brings his phone out of his pocket, snapping a picture of the otter with the ball, sending it in their groupchat and tagging Baku, typing, ‘you gotta recruit this little guy'. 

Sieun comes to stand shoulder to shoulder, pointing inside the enclosure. “There’s another one.” 

Suho follows his finger, then sees another otter sprawled on a rock, fast asleep.

“It’s like you when you sleep.” Sieun murmurs, and Suho turns to see him looking at it with amusement twinkling in his eyes. He elbows him and protests with a whiny, “Hey,” as they make their way further in, hiding his giddy smile. They walk past freshwater fish, Sieun studying them keenly.

When they get to a tank with a bunch of translucent fish, Suho gasps, asking, “Sieun-ah, what are these guys called?”

Sieun walks up slowly. “Ghost catfish.”

“Whoa, so weird. They’re completely transparent.” Sieun hums as Suho snaps a picture of them. 

They walk past a couple more tanks, Suho asking Sieun what all kinds of interesting looking fishes are called, Sieun answering almost immediately every time. “Sieun-ah, how come you know all their names? Do you know their scientific names, too?”

Sieun stops in front of the jellyfish, admiring them, face tilting in close to the glass. “Yeah,” he points to a jellyfish, reciting its scientific name, and it goes right over Suho’s head. Nerd, he fondly thinks. “Why do you know these things?”

Sieun then shrugs, and turns to face him. “We had a book on marine animals at home. I memorized it.”

“Why?” Suho scratches his head. 

He receives another shrug. “Just cause.”

“Right…” As one does. Suho takes a moment to observe Sieun, coming to stand next to him. Sieun is back to gazing at the jellyfish, enraptured. There aren’t many people around either, so it’s quiet, almost meditative. Sieun looks so at peace that Suho’s reluctant to interrupt him, so he lets him look at the jellyfish swim around for as long as he wishes, content with watching Sieun instead. 

He wonders what Sieun’s thinking as he’s looking at the fish, and wonders why he seems to be so attracted to marine life. Maybe it’s the same feeling Suho gets when he looks out into the vast sea, or into the terraced skyscrapers lighting up the horizon in Seoul—that wordless awe at inhabiting a world so much bigger, so much more different than them. Sieun watches the jellyfish with the disposition of a child caught in that same wonder. 

When Sieun’s ready to move along, Suho quietly asks, “Is this your first time at an aquarium?”

Sieun nods. “Yeah.”

Suho’s throat tightens, and his heart thrums in his chest. He ignores it.

“Look,” he points as they exit the first floor, “it’s the turtle feeding zone I saw in the pictures online!” 

They observe as a little girl, carried by her dad, feeds the little turtles. Suho watches the turtles crowd together in amusement. “Wanna feed them?” he asks Sieun, ready to buy the food. 

Sieun shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll just watch.” 

The little girl hears them, and offers them the food in her hand. “Here!” she exclaims, shyly grinning at Sieun, who turns to her in surprise. He refuses at first, but she insists, so he takes it with a small bow, movements bashful. “Thank you,” 

“Here, sprinkle it like this, handsome oppa,” she says happily, as her dad lets her down and she comes to stand beside Sieun. Sieun goes red as her dad hides a snort of amusement behind his fist, Suho grinning and whipping out his phone, furtively taking a picture of both their outstretched hands.

The turtles gather around as Sieun is guided by the girl. He feeds them gingerly, watching with doe-eyed interest as they eat, crawling over each other in enthusiasm. Suho stays quiet next to the pair as the girl tries to make hushed conversation, Sieun listening attentively.

“Aren’t they so cute?” the girl grips the glass enclosure tight, leaning in as they’re fed, and Sieun nods, mumbling, “Mm. They are.” 

“Which one’s your favorite?” she asks, pointing to one in the corner. “I named him Sleepy. And that one is Roundie. He eats so much. He’s a glu—glut—Appa, what was it again?”

“Glutton.”

“Yeah, a glutton!”

Sieun sneaks a cheeky glance at Suho, and Suho knows exactly what he’s thinking, so he ruffles his hair fondly. “Sieun-ah, don’t even start.” Sieun hides a smile, and tells the girl he quite likes Roundie too, that he reminds him of a friend. She nods in satisfaction, and Suho has to look away to hide his pleased, embarrassed expression. He feels his heart expand in his chest. 

Once they part ways with the little girl, waving bye to her and her dad, they make their way up to the second floor. 

Suho teases him, “Oho, look who’s popular with the little ladies!” 

The tips of Sieun’s ears begin to flush. “Shut up.”

“Handsome oppa,” he elbows Sieun lightly as they climb the last of the stairs, “ha, that little girl has great taste, I must say—ooh,” he loses his train of thought and Sieun looks away, ears painfully red, “seals!” 

They enter the second floor, Suho immediately stalking over to where the seals are. Sieun follows closely behind as Suho gets close to the glass and lays a hand on it. They happily swim around as he watches them, eyes rapt. 

Sieun stands next to him and somehow immediately gets the attention of one of the seals. It comes to observe him, returning his indolent stare with its beady gaze, then it executes a graceful turn. 

As it creeps closer to the glass, Suho laughs. “Looks like you’re popular with seals, too.” 

Sieun gives him a flat look as he walks past him.

Eventually, they get to the underwater tunnel. 

Sieun loses himself in watching all the different kinds of fish swim above them. They’re all varied in shape, size and color. Suho asks what some of them are called, and Sieun distractedly answers each time, a tinge of breathless awe clouding his voice. Suho looks over when they’re halfway through the tunnel, and sees Sieun’s eyes reflecting the calming blue of the water as he studies them, a serene expression on his face. 

Suho pulls out his phone again, secretly taking a picture of the side of his face when he looks up in fascination as a big, black stingray passes by. The wavy blue mosaic of water and light flits over Sieun’s face, creating little shimmers that bounce off his features, making him look like he’s submerged underwater too. He looks beautiful. 

Lowering his phone, Suho forlornly wonders why Sieun hasn’t ever visited an aquarium before today, and makes a resolution to take him to all the aquariums in the country—and all the zoos, and museums, and the flower gardens, and everything else—just so he can see this expression on Sieun some more, a mix of innocent fascination and serene happiness etched into his features, the corners of his mouth naturally curling up in increments. For the first time in a long time, it looks like Sieun’s living fully in the present, all worries seemingly melting away from him. The last time he saw such lightness in Sieun’s disposition was the night he first smiled at him, all those years ago. Suho’s heart beats against the cage of his chest again, suddenly wanting to find release, almost fit to burst. 

As he’s wrapped up in that hazy fog of lovelorn thoughts, Sieun decides in that instant to look back at Suho, and his brows fold into the slightest frown in confusion. His head tilts inquisitively. Was he saying something? Suho realizes he completely missed it.

He clears his throat, trying to adopt a casual stance, hands shoved into his pockets as he walks towards the end of the tunnel, facing away from Sieun to hide his overwhelming emotions. “Nothing. Sieun-ssi, I’ll take you to loads of aquariums. Just you wait.”

He doesn’t see Sieun slightly stumble in his step, hands clutching at his bag strap, soft giddiness gleaming in his eyes and in the delicate corners of his mouth. 

The group ends up eating lunch together at a popular sundubu restaurant, Baku and Hyuntak pink and tan from their surfing exploits, showing them pictures they’d taken as everyone ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. Suho shares the pictures he took at the aquarium, clearing his throat and sliding past the innumerable ones of Sieun as Baku hides a snort.

Later, they head to the park by the lake to play badminton and cycle around some more, only making it back home in time to gorge on dinner. Suho savours every meal, the unique coastal flavours of Gangneung feeling like an absolute treat to his tastebuds. He pats his stomach when he's done,  wondering if he’s going to end up with a food belly by the end of the trip.

When they clear their dinner, Baku quickly scurries down to put his phone on charge, and then as he comes back up the stairs, he’s clutching at a bottle in his hand and waving it around as he slams a couple disposable cups onto the table. 

“You have to try this corn makgeolli that Auntie just gave me,” Baku begins to pour it out into cups. “It’s so good!”

As he pours, Suho notes that Sieun stares at it curiously. 

Juntae starts passing the filled cups around. When he gets to Sieun, he hesitates, then asks, “Sieun-ah, do you want to try?”

Sieun shakes his head at first, almost instinctively, then Suho squeezes him with the hand placed behind his shoulder. 

Sieun looks at him, and Suho smiles reassuringly, and asks, “You wanna try?” 

He never imagined Sieun would have any interest in alcohol. He wonders if it's a measure of his relaxedness around his friends, his level of trust in them. He tries to convey his own reassuring presence as well, wanting Sieun to have the confidence to try whatever he’d like.

Sieun stares at him for a moment longer as the question hangs between them, then gives him an almost imperceptible little nod and turns back to Juntae, reaching over for the cup. 

Hyuntak ‘ooh’s, “Sieun-ah! What a pleasant surprise!”

As everyone holds their drinks up in cheers and begins to down them, Suho takes a sip of his soda and rests his hand limply on Sieun’s shoulder. Sieun leans back against his arm whilst sipping slowly at it, cringing his face at the unfamiliar taste.

Juntae opens up a couple packets of snacks and passes them around. Suho, still full from their satiating dinner, munches idly on a couple. 

Juntae tells them about his family, filling them in on how his aunt and uncle came to own this place, that his uncle, who’s an architect by profession, had initially built it brick by brick because his aunt fell in love with Gangneung when they’d come here on vacation once. Hyuntak is teary by the end, so Baku teases him, getting a painful elbow to his side. Suho looks around at the house, seeing it in a different light now that he has more context, feeling like it’s infused with more warmth, and care.

Baku and Hyuntak briefly go down to heat up some microwaveable ramyun, then once they’re back, they all continue chatting as Baku pours another round, and Sieun obediently holds his cup out again. Suho resists the twitches of an amused smile beginning to break out on his face, noting that Sieun already looks a tiny bit flushed, although not quite noticeably drunk just yet. 

“Baku, how was the surfing lesson? Did you like it?” Juntae asks curiously. 

Hyuntak answers for him instead. “It was amazing. Baku sucks though.” 

“Lies! I think I need to become a surfer here!” Baku excitedly chatters.

Hyuntak rolls his eyes. “You sucked so bad the instructor had to cut our lesson short. What are you yapping about?”

“Hey, the slow rabbit wins the race!” Baku pauses, then frowns. “That didn’t sound right.” He distractedly pours another round, and Sieun holds his cup out again. Suho opens his mouth to tell him to take it easy, then takes another look at his innocently curious face, and selfishly makes an executive decision to hold that thought. He’s so cute, he thinks as his heart skips a beat. 

Hyuntak replies after he downs his own cup. “It’s ‘slow and steady wins the race’, and it isn’t the rabbit that wins, it’s the tortoise, you fucking dunce.”

“Yeah, yeah, here comes the clit expert.” 

“What expert?!”

“Classic literature. Fool.”

Hyuntak stares down Baku with his mouth gaping open, speechless, then roars, “Who the fuck shortens classic literature to that?!” 

Juntae shushes them frantically, “Guys, it’s late! Stop yelling!”

Amidst the hubbub, Suho suddenly feels a strong weight on his lower thigh, and his quiet laughter dies down. He looks down to see Sieun’s hand clutching at it tightly, knuckles whitened. 

Suho leans forward, a little alarmed, and tries to get a good look at him. “Sieun-ah, you okay? What happened?”

Sieun swallows, glaring holes into the open packet of goraebab on the table. His eyes are wide and anxious.

A moment later, a pained whisper: “I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what?” he asks, but he realizes the answer as soon as the question comes out of his mouth. 

“Don’t like feeling drunk.” Sieun confirms for him. 

Then, “Suho-ya,”

“Yeah?” Suho moves to wrap his arm a little tighter around his shoulder, hand patting at his upper arm soothingly, if a bit awkwardly.

Sieun’s reply comes a beat late. “I feel hot.” 

Just then, Sieun shifts his gaze from the table, looking right into Suho’s eyes, and Suho’s mouth goes dry. He’s flushed, his pupils are wide, and his bangs are a little damp where they’re plastered to his forehead. His eyes are glassed over, and they’re flushed red on the ends. He looks…  

Suho doesn’t let himself finish that thought.

He feels his pulse slowly kicking up. He licks his dry lips. Sieun’s eyes drop down to his mouth and follow his tongue’s movements, almost as if hypnotized, then he mirrors him. His tongue pokes out, soft and pink, moistening his lips. Suho wonders if he even knows what he’s doing, and how it makes him feel. He feels himself get carried away in his thoughts again, as he notes Sieun’s pretty fluttering eyelashes, his peach-red mouth, slightly open, now glistening with slight wetness. To his horror, he feels a spike of arousal course through his body, feverish and throbbing. It's nearly overwhelming, and the more he studies Sieun’s face, the less he feels in control. 

Suddenly, Baku slams his chopsticks onto the table dramatically, still mid-argument with Hyuntak. 

The sound helps Suho flinch back to reality. He instantly removes his arm from around Sieun, as if being branded with hot iron. He realizes he hasn’t replied to Sieun yet. He tries to recall what he said. Right, he said he feels hot. 

Suho clears his throat and stutters an embarrassingly delayed response, “Ah, you’re hot?” He goes to tug at Sieun’s hoodie with both his hands, shrugging it off his shoulders. “Here, remove this.” Sieun slowly obeys, unzipping it fully, then pulling his hands out of the arms of the hoodie, movements a little sloppy. Even the innocuous act of him removing his hoodie suddenly makes Suho pulse with want. He has to avert his eyes. 

He takes a moment to down some more of his soda, throat exceedingly dry.

Once it’s off, Suho, trying to be normal, pats Sieun’s knee comfortingly and fleetingly. “Sieun-ah, don’t worry. The feeling will pass soon.”

Sieun nods, then suddenly slumps against his shoulder, head heavy. Suho stills. “S’ho-ya,” he mumbles again.

“Yeah?” he breathes out. 

“It’s getting worse.” A beat. “Your arm.”

“My… My arm?” Suho confusedly echoes. 

Sieun detaches his head slowly, then frowns at him impatiently, and tugs at his arm. “Arm.”

Suho blinks, then robotically raises his arm to drape it back over Sieun’s shoulder, stupidly parroting, “Arm.”

“Mm,” Sieun’s head goes back to lay over Suho’s shoulder, then moves in a little more, settling into his neck. Suho looks up to catch Juntae staring at him with a small smile. He breaks his gaze quickly, face feeling flushed.

Suho tightens his arm around his shoulder, now only separated from his skin by one layer of thin cotton. He can feel Sieun’s body heat radiate against him, his warm breath on his collarbone from where his head is snuggled into him, and he feels himself go a little stir crazy, heady with arousal.

He feels like he needs to run a lap on the beach to calm down, or dive out of the balcony into the street and make his immediate escape. His head feels like there's lava coursing through it, hot and thick, and it crowds all his senses, making him feel like he's on the verge of a heatstroke. 

Still, he observes how strained Sieun’s muscles feel against his arm with his remaining bit of sanity, and he squeezes gently at his shoulder and bicep, trying to massage them into relaxing a tiny bit, feeling little sparks of static electricity run up his arm. He feels bad for not telling Sieun to stop after the second cup. “Sieun-ah, why don’t you sleep it off?” he murmurs. “You’ll feel better when you get up.”

Sieun nods.

“Ohoho, what’s happening here?” Baku’s amused voice sounds from the corner. Suho looks up to see the three of them staring at him and Sieun with amusement in their eyes, as if privy to some secret, and distantly wonders what these looks are all about, too caught up in his own dilemma to give his full attention to them. He wonders if his face has gone as red as Sieun’s. 

Avoiding their gazes, he distractedly replies, “Ah, Sieunie’s not liking the tipsiness.”

Hyuntak nods contemplatively. “It’s his first time, we shouldn’t have given him the third one.”

Suho cracks a smile. “It’s okay, guys. At least he knows he’s a lightweight now.” Somehow, he feels like he can sense Sieun’s soft features pull into a petulant frown against his shoulder. 

Suho rubs his shoulder one more time, then lets go and goes to stand up. The lack of contact gives him some immediate relief. He takes a deep breath, then, “I’ll take him to the room, let him sleep it off.” 

“Need any help?” Baku offers, and Suho shakes his head as he helps Sieun stand, letting him lean his weight against him. Sieun lets out a cat-like yawn, and Suho suppresses an endeared laugh. “Nah, it’s fine. You guys continue. I’ll join later.”

They voice their assent, happily wishing Sieun goodnight. Sieun slurs sweetly back at them. 

Halfway to the room, Sieun stumbles and almost loses his balance. Suho panics, mumbling, “Whoa,” and pushes him to lean against the corridor wall, holding him steady.

“Sorry,” comes Sieun’s little murmur. 

Suho pats his head. “S’okay,” he turns around, then bends his knees a little and looks back over his shoulder at Sieun, “Hop on.”

Sieun blinks at him, then tentatively drapes himself over Suho’s back, and Suho tells him to wrap his legs around his waist on his count, then holds Sieun’s legs up with a grunt when he does. 

Sieun wraps his arms around his neck as Suho straightens, and buries his face into his shoulder. He mumbles something, but it's muffled against his shirt. “What did you say?”

“Strong,” Sieun lifts his head up, mumbling dangerously close to his ear. Suho suppresses a shiver. 

He can't resist teasing him. “Mm, hyung is strong enough to carry you now. Are you proud, Sieunie?” 

But Sieun only nods against his shoulder, wraps his arms tighter around his neck, and mumbles incoherently. 

Suho, heart squeezing tight in his chest, makes a little mental note that Sieun’s a lot more free with affection when he’s drunk. Earlier, it had surprised him when he'd so brazenly asked for Suho’s arm. It makes him feel butterflies in his stomach, gets him giddy with a boyish kind of excitement. It’s brand new information, after all, a side of Sieun he's never witnessed before, other than when he'd squeezed him tight in that hospital room the day they'd reunited. He feels greedy for it, needy for more, it makes him foolishly want to push the boundaries he'd been adamant on setting once he'd realized his feelings – boundaries he's lousy at keeping anyway.

He clamps down on his wandering feelings as they reach the bedroom, and he kicks the ajar door fully open.

He goes to plant Sieun onto the mattress gently, having to coax him to let go, and once he does, he puts the bedroom lamp on and removes Sieun’s socks for him. 

“Sleep,” he whispers as he rises again and sees the drowsy look on his face. It’s still flushed the prettiest pink. 

Sieun doesn’t move, so Suho nudges his shoulder back, making sure his head settles on the pillow, then unfolds the blanket to tuck it around him.

Sieun closes his eyes, then opens them again when he feels Suho move, and reaches out a hand from under the blanket to wrap around his wrist. Suho looks down at it, then back at Sieun, raising a brow.

Sieun slurs, “You’ll stay?”

Ah, Suho thinks, I’m so fucked. 

“Mm,” he mumbles, voice strained, “I’ll be right here.”

Suho sits by him for a while as he drifts off to sleep, then once he’s made sure Sieun’s properly out, he switches the bedroom lamp off. 

He goes over to the balcony door, opening it as gingerly as possible so as to not wake Sieun back up, and leaves it slightly ajar as he goes to lean against the railing. He takes in the gentle breeze, carrying with it the saltiness of the sea, fresh and pure. It’s nothing like the polluted air in Seoul. He distantly thinks that he could get used to living in a smaller town by the sea. 

He wonders if Sieun likes it the same, if he likes the absence of overstimulating noises and smells assaulting his senses.

Then, he slowly pulls his phone out of his back pocket, and pulls up Youngyi’s chat. 

Dude, her latest text to him reads, found this amazing street food stall, with a picture attached.

He hearts it, then abruptly texts her, I’m so fucked. 

She replies almost immediately with a singular, ‘ ? ’

Satisfied with having put that feeling out into the world, he leaves her on read, minimising the app and staring out into the quiet neighbourhood. 

The image of Sieun’s tipsy face is burned into his brain, and he can’t seem to forget it no matter how much he tries. It makes his thoughts wander to improper places, places he’d never dwelt in before today, because the very thought of imagining doing anything other than kissing Sieun felt almost unbearably overwhelming. He wonders when he started craving more, wonders if it crept up on him the more Sieun began to initiate contact and felt more human, warmer to the touch, pliable and soft under his hands.

He feels like a naive kid again, all of a sudden. It's not something he’s used to feeling, but it’s made a home in his mind ever since he woke up from his coma to see Halmeoni’s older, frailer looking face. In fact, he hasn't felt anything close to naivety for a long time, having had to grow up a little faster than other kids his age. It's only when it comes to Sieun that he feels his age, feels like a clumsy, love-drunk teenage boy. Just the thought of giving Sieun a peck on his cheek makes his heart flutter in innocent glee. 

He’s kissed girls before, a grand total of two, to be exact. One was a small peck at the end of a date, the other was at the back of the school, hidden in a little nook that the janitor usually stored his brooms in. He’d knocked them over when she’d initiated a deeper kiss, pushing him into the wall. He remembers his hands clumsily going to hold her at her waist as she’d giggled, “First time?” and she’d eagerly shown him the ropes.

Back then, he’d felt nothing but the brazen curiosity that a fifteen year old would feel, nothing of the heat or arousal that he’d expected. It was wet, it felt nice when her nails had scratched against the nape of his neck, but it was ultimately nothing more than a learning experience.

He’d come out of it a good kisser, at least. 

But now, faced with Sieun’s pretty mouth, his slackened and pinked face, he feels like a fish out of water. He’s always felt like a bit of a fool around him, but now he’s rigid, a piece of washed-up cardboard, unable to process a singular thought other than ‘boy pretty’. He almost laughs at himself for thinking it’d be easy to be Sieun’s loyal and steadfast friend, pure of heart and mind. He wants to scoff at his own naivety.  

When he had realized his feelings for Sieun, he'd promised himself that he wouldn't cross the line with him too many times anymore, that he'd be a little stingy with his affection, but he’d quickly found that it was a nearly impossible task. Affection comes too easily to him when it comes to Sieun, especially when he finds that his words aren't enough. His hand naturally, reflexively floats up to pet him, soothe him, cajole him, before his mind is even aware of the action. It’s in his nature to want to embrace him, run his hands through his hair, kiss him on his forehead. And when Sieun doesn't resist, turns pliant under him, his greed only spurs him further on. 

He desperately hopes that Yeon Sieun never gets drunk again, for the sake of his own sanity, then paradoxically, foolishly wishes he gets drunk a little more often, then puts his head in his hands miserably.

He stands there for a long while, trying to organize his thoughts.

The creak of the sliding door suddenly pulls him out of his trance, and he whips his head to see Sieun pushing at the glass lopsidedly, brows furrowed and mouth downturned in a cute pout. “Sieun-ah,” Suho turns his body just in time as he pulls it open enough to pass through. 

Sieun stumbles over to him, hands coming to grip at his shirt lapels, clutching at them tightly. Suho 'whoa's as he tries to steady him, asking, “You alright?”

Sieun nods as he straightens himself, tries to take a step backward, and faceplants right into Suho instead.

“Sieun-ah, you took a nap, but you're still so drunk?” Suho grins amusedly, an arm coming to circle his waist to balance his form, trying to discreetly pull him off but failing. He takes a moment to settle his racing heart. 

“S'ho-ya,” Sieun suddenly pleads, tightening his grip on his shirt, “He keeps coming in my dreams,” he slurs accusatorily as he looks up, squinting and trying to meet Suho's gaze.

Suho's heart falters as he stares back at Sieun. “Who? Beomseok?” 

Sieun nods sloppily, “He keeps... He keeps…” he frowns, then buries his face back into Suho's chest. 

Suho pats his back, voice strained, “Sieun-ah, shall I tell him to go away?” 

“Mm. I don't want... I want him to go away for now.” Suho laughs warmly at Sieun's drunken slurring, despite his heart threatening to crack into two. 

He clears his throat, then: “Oh Beomseok, you hear me? Stop bothering Sieunie!” He raises his voice, looking up at the sky for dramatic effect.

Sieun mumbles something, and Suho strains to hear. “What did you say?” 

“Curse at him,” he slurs. 

“Right,” Suho, caught between amusement and hysteria, lines his dry mouth as he resists his laughter, “you fucking bastard!” He feels Sieun nod, his hair tickling against his neck. “You... You stupid fuck!” 

“St’pid fuck,” Sieun parrots.

“Suho-ya,” Sieun lifts his head up, “I'll never forgive him. Never forgive him... For…”

Suho lets out a fond huff at Sieun’s sweetness, knowing that in his heart of hearts, he’s a gentle, kind and soft soul, and doesn’t have it in his heart to be resentful or hateful for too long. A boy who can’t even bring himself to hate his parents for neglecting him, a kid who still tries to understand even if it's the last thing he wants to do, even if it tears at his heart. Suho comes to realize that he loves that about him. It makes him want to wrap him up in bubble wrap and protect him from the cruelty of the world. 

Still, he nods pacifyingly. “Yeah, me neither.” 

Sieun-ah, I won’t forgive him for hurting you, either.

He moves a few strands away from where they're falling into Sieun's eyes, and thinks of planting an affectionate kiss against his forehead. He curses at himself as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He doesn’t want to make it a habit, but all rational thoughts seem to melt out of him as soon as he lays eyes on Sieun. 

Instead, he croaks, “Sieun-ah, he won't come in your dreams again tonight, yeah? I've banished him.” 

“…Okay.” He wonders if he’s imagining Sieun flushing a warm red. He can’t tell in the dim moonlight, and the faint diffused light from the streetlamps isn’t of any help either.

He continues, “If he comes again, tell him Suho's going to deal with him.” 

“...Okay.” 

Then Sieun freezes, and suddenly tightens his grip against his lapels, and looks at him wildly, tears quickly brimming his eyes, “Don't deal with him,” Suho stares, flustered, “I'll—I’ll deal—” 

“Okay, okay,” Suho curses at himself again then tries to soothe, patting his back and shushing him, “I won't, I won't. I'll just banish him, okay? No one is dealing with anything.”

“Promise,” Sieun mumbles, fingers flexing in their tight grip. Suho’s hands come up to peel them off, rubbing soothingly as he holds them, and he says, “Promise, promise.”

He notes that the tips of Sieun’s fingers are cold to the touch, and immediately gets moving. “C’mere,” he nudges him inside, “Aren’t you cold?” He guides Sieun over the frame of the sliding door, closing it shut behind them, and goes to turn the heater up a little as Sieun stumbles back down into the mattress. 

Suho makes sure he’s under his blanket again, and when he stares up at him with his lost doe eyes, he makes sure to reassure him. “I’ll go brush my teeth, okay? Then I’ll be right back. Lie down.”

Suho goes to brush his teeth, then removes his beach shirt and leaves the tank on underneath, yawning as he heads back into the room. He pauses outside the door and wonders if he should let the guys know, then figures that they must’ve already assumed that he’s gone to sleep as well, and enters quietly. 

He sees that Sieun had politely pulled his bedding over in the time that he was gone, arranging it neatly beside him. He smiles fondly. “Thanks, Sieun-ah,”

Sieun sleepily hums. Suho lies down, then stretches satisfactorily, pulling the blanket over himself. Suddenly, his limbs feel heavy from the day’s exploits, his stomach full and satiated. Yawning again, he finds that sleep is closer than he thought. 

He turns on his side to check on Sieun, and finds him staring back at him with an expression he can’t quite place. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

His question breaks Sieun out of some spell, and his face reddens, then he frowns and starts aggressively rubbing his fists against his head in frustration. It makes a mess out of his hair. His eyes squeeze tightly shut against whatever is seemingly attacking him all of a sudden.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Suho panics, frantically hovering his hand over Sieun’s head. “Why? What happened?” he asks helplessly.

Sieun abruptly stops, then turns over to face away from him, burying his face into his pillow and pulling his blanket tighter around himself. 

“I don’t like not being in control.” 

Suho withdraws his hand, letting it fall between them. He sighs, “I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped you.”

A beat later, Sieun slowly shakes the back of his head at him, and his reply comes muffled, “S’not your fault.”

“It’s just that…” Suho feels the words bubbling in his throat, and he’s helpless to stop them. “It’s just that you’re so cute like this.” 

He sees Sieun stiffen. He stays silent for a long second, then, “Stop saying nonsense.”

Nonsensically, it makes Suho want to say even more nonsense.

“I’m being serious, though,” Suho whispers against his best interest. Hysterically, he feels like he’s confessing to a sin, then hopes Sieun doesn’t remember this little interaction either. “Sieun-ah, I found you really cute, so I stayed silent. Am I a bad person?”  

Sieun gradually turns back to him, drunken flush still high on his face. He deadpans, making his ire known, “Yeah. The worst.”

“...Okay. Sorry.” he lets the silence hang between them, then, “Will you forgive me?” he clumsily asks. 

Sieun averts his gaze, looks down at the mat and murmurs, “Yeah.”

“Sieun-ah, don’t hurt yourself.” He takes one of Sieun’s balled fists in his hand, tries to unfurl it. “You’re so tense. Don’t worry, you don’t need to be in control when I’m here. Let go, let go.”

Sieun slowly unfurls his fist, then lets some of the tension bleed away from his shoulders.

“Would you like a massage as well?” Suho, naturally, shoots himself in the foot. 

There’s a pregnant pause.

Then, awkwardly, “Just joking, ha ha.”

He hears a beleaguered sigh.

Suho brings his hand onto the mattress, tangling it with Sieun’s in the space between them. Sieun loosely returns his grip and settles in, face burrowing into his pillow, eyes falling shut, eyelashes fluttering prettily.

Like that, the both of them drift off into sleep. 

Later,

Suho groggily wakes up from deep sleep to Sieun shaking him, and half-opens his sandy eyes to see the outline of his shadow hovering over him, his hand clutching tightly at his shoulder. 

“Suho-ya,” he rasps, low and pained, and Suho wordlessly understands, even in his half-asleep zombie state. He reaches out to him immediately. 

He wastes no time in pulling Sieun down by his waist, arranging them so that his back is flush against Suho's chest, and begins to soothe him.

In his lucid state, half-awake and half-asleep, he operates on instinct alone, wrapping his arm tight around Sieun's middle and patting down his stomach comfortingly, placing an affectionate kiss against the back of his head. “Darling,” he murmurs, unfiltered in his sleepy and delirious condition. He distantly feels Sieun shudder, then push further into his embrace. He tightens the arm around Sieun's waist, petting at him, “I'm right here,” 

He places a gentle kiss against the back of his ear, then burrows his face into the nape of Sieun's neck and throws a leg over him. 

Sieun whines low and sweet, and melts right into him, his hand coming to tangle with Suho's over his stomach. 

Feeling endlessly warm from head to toe, and thoroughly protected, reassured that Suho's alive and well, he sleeps dreamlessly for the rest of the night. 

Suho wakes up the next morning feeling disoriented and hot. He feels a heavy weight thrown over his waist, and another warm weight resting against his chest. As he comes to, he slowly realizes he’s entangled with Yeon Sieun, the top of his head buried snugly into his chest, a lightly balled fist clutching loosely at his t-shirt. His leg is thrown across his waist. 

His breath fans against the thin material of his t-shirt, warm and overstimulating as it tickles against his skin. Suho’s arm is wrapped around Sieun’s waist, fingers curled on the curve of his hip where his shirt has ridden up slightly, his pinky finger resting on warm skin. Sieun’s thigh lays heavy over him, right where there’s a bundle of heat unfurling in his gut, hot and heavy. 

Suho’s pulse immediately starts picking up in anxiety. 

Fuck, he thinks, as he tries to untangle himself without waking Sieun, only to find him clinging tighter in his sleep, shit. 

By the time he manages to untangle himself, biting down on a frustrated groan as Sieun’s leg brushes against his hardness, he’s panting and sweating absolute buckets.

He grabs a towel, and immediately goes to have an ice-cold shower.

When he’s out, no one’s awake yet, everyone having decided last night to sleep in late the following morning. He feels grateful for that decision as he makes his way to the beach, thoughts scattered all over the place, panic slowly crawling through his veins and smothering them. 

As the morning sun bears down on him, he sits down on the beach and gets his phone out, and dials the only person he wants to talk to at that moment.

“Youngyi-ya,” His voice cracks, so he clears his throat, but he's parched all of a sudden, staring out into the vast blue sea. Fear slowly takes root in him as his eyes drink in the sheer vastness of it, the unknown depths that lie below. His hand curls into the sand to grip at the fine grain fruitlessly.

“Ahn Suho,” her voice turns serious, tinny and a little muted from the bad network, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Suho lies.

They both pause as he listens to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, then he opens his mouth again: “No.” 

“Is it,” she starts, then cuts herself short, and he blurts, “I thought I could just act normal about it, be his friend as usual, am I fucking stupid, Youngyi-ya?” 

She sighs on the other end. “You're not stupid, Ahn Suho.” 

“I'm... I'm out of my depth. I'm questioning myself now. Who the hell am I? I'm going crazy.” He asks her desperately, his vision unfocused, losing sight of that sea as it fades into a blue haze in front of him. Suddenly, he's all too aware of the sunlight mercilessly beating down on his skin, pressing ruthlessly into his pores until they leak sweat, draining every last drop of water out of him.  

His body is overheated, his throat is parched, his tongue is dry. 

He's right back in that desert again. The sea suddenly feels so far away.

“What happened?” she asks softly. 

He shakes his head, slowly continues, “Nothing out of the ordinary. But I held him to sleep after a while, for the first time since I realized. And…” 

“And?”

“I woke up and realized the two of us are living in two different realities, you know? And as long as this continues, I won't be able to be a good friend to him. I won't be what he needs me to be.” 

Youngyi, “How are you so sure that's what he needs you to be?” 

Fear tightens its grip on him. “Because it is.” 

“Suho-ya—” 

“Yeon Sieun,” he interrupts, voice strained, “he means too much to me, Youngyi-ya. You understand, don’t you?” 

He hears her exhale, then softly, “Yeah.” 

There's a brief lull, then she continues, “Suho-ya, don't do anything you think you'll regret. But you can't lie to yourself, or to him. It's unfair to the both of you, and what you share with each other.” 

“I... I know,” He tries to brave another look at that unfathomable sea, sees the distant horizon fade into an endless sky, then lies to himself: “I just need some time.” 

She hums, then sits with him in companionable silence for a while, until he starts feeling the coarse grains of sand sticking to his ass through his shorts. As he begins to shift restlessly, she suddenly breaks the silence with, “So you woke up with a raging boner, huh?” 

He curses at her and hangs up. 

Later, when he gets back to the house and sees that damned cat staring at him again with its piercing eyes, he sighs and ignores it, climbing up the steps to the first floor.

It raises its tail pin straight, affronted and positively offended, gazing into his retreating back.

He pays it no mind.

Chapter Text

The same day, Suho ends up accompanying Juntae to the market on an errand. 

As they sit on the bus heading to the city market, Suho turns to him and asks, “How come you didn’t react when I said I’m gay, too?”

Juntae, in the middle of reading manga on his phone, distractedly answers, “Isn’t it obvio—” then abruptly closes his mouth and looks up, expression guilty.

Suho raises an eyebrow. “What’s obvious?”

They sway as the bus gently rocks them side to side.

“Um,” Juntae locks his phone screen, “that you like Sieunie.” 

There’s a pause, then he sees Suho’s frozen face and giggles. “You always look like one of those love-struck male leads in shoujo manga,” 

“What does that mean?” Suho doesn’t understand a word of it. 

“Like…” Juntae takes a second to think. “The starry-eyes, the possessiveness and all that.”

“The—I’m not possessive?” Suho gulps as he tries to recall the last time he was possessive over Sieun, and draws a blank.

But Juntae just blinks at him in confusion, then says, “You’re joking, right?”

Suho cluelessly blinks back at him.

He receives a speechless, progressively wide-eyed stare in response.

As they walk through the market, Suho reasons that surely Juntae only picked up on it because he’s also gay, and he’s got a feel for these things. Not because Suho is blatantly obvious about his feelings to the point that Yeon Sieun’s entire friend group somehow knows. Surely not.  

Suddenly, he stops in his tracks as he recollects those looks of amusement glinting in their eyes when he took a drunk Sieun back to his room. 

Juntae turns to look at him from a few paces away. “Suho-ya?”

He walks up to Juntae in slow disbelief. 

His voice is laced with panic at its edges as he whispers, “Seo Juntae, does everyone know?”

In response, Juntae looks away and clears his throat. He fiddles with the plastic bag in his hands, rustling it. “Uh… It’s like this…” he sighs, giving up, “Yeah, more or less.”

There’s another pause, then Suho starts laughing lifelessly, clapping his hand on Juntae’s shoulder. “Ha! Ha, ha.”

He flinches. “Suho-ya, you okay?”

Suho walks past him, laughter robotically wracking through his stiff body. He waves a dismissive hand over his shoulder. 

On the way back, Suho looks at Juntae as he reads his manga again, and tries not to peer into it. Instead, he asks, “Can you recommend me one of those.. Shoujo thingies?”

Juntae’s head snaps up. “Why?”

He scratches his head. “For like, research. I guess.”

Juntae blinks at him, then pulls up his messaging app on his phone. “I’m actually more into, well… Other things, but one of my friends is a shoujo connoisseur, though.” He says this as he types out a quick message. 

Suho finally peers in to see that he’s asked for beginner recs on a group chat. “Ah,” Suho says, “one of your survival buddies?”

He sees Juntae go red in the face, stutter,  “You—you heard that?!” then remembers he technically wasn’t supposed to hear that bit.

Suho nods, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to, though.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Juntae begins, “I still really have a lot of affection for them. But we were kinda trauma-bonded.” He sighs. “The anime club was one of the only safe spaces we had, though. We’re figuring out our dynamic outside of being bullied together—we missed out on doing a lot of regular friend stuff. It was pretty rough.”

Suho purses his lips, and his expression turns serious as he says, “Juntae-ssi, you’re really…” there’s a pause where Suho sees him gulp, “Adorable. It’s disgusting, seriously.” He ruffles Juntae’s hair.

Juntae colors red and sputters, then his phone dings. Both of them peer down into it as recommendations come flooding in from his friend. The notifications keep dinging endlessly.

Juntae laughs nervously as Suho’s eyes grow wider. 

“Dude, is this guy the Naver search engine or what?!”

When they finally deposit everything they bought onto the kitchen counter and start sorting it into the refrigerator together, Suho says with conviction, “Juntae-ya, if anyone ever bullies you and your little anime club friends again, let hyung know and I’ll take care of them.”

Juntae almost drops the cut of samgyeopsal in his hands. 

“O-oh, okay.” 

Sieun, walking into the dining room at that moment, pauses as he overhears their conversation.

He lets the smallest hint of a fond smile soften the corners of his eyes.

Later that day, when Suho stands in the nook, preoccupied with replying to a text from Youngyi, he feels something soft brush against the back of his calves. He looks down to see the black cat rubbing itself against his legs, purring. The cat looks up and meets Suho’s eyes with an eerily familiar indolent gaze.

Suho’s eyes narrow in suspicion at the odd behaviour.

He shoves his phone into the back pocket of his shorts, then lowers himself down to a squat, deliberately slow.

He looks it in the eyes with a stern frown as he asks, “So all I had to do was ignore you once? Are you a tsundere or what, huh?”

The cat purrs as it continues to rub itself against his folded legs. 

He scoffs in disbelief, then tentatively raises his hand to pet its head. 

It lets him. 

It even mewls in contentment.

He thinks, wow, what an unfathomable creature.

Then, ridiculously, will this work on Yeon Sieun?

On their last day in Gangneung, they decide to watch the sunrise together on the beach.

Sieun wakes Suho up while it’s still dark, sweetly whispering, “Suho-ya,” as he taps on his shoulder. Suho resists the urge to bite at his prodding finger as he awakens, yawning and stretching.

The group drowsily makes their way down to the beach, a strangely somber atmosphere in the air. They're antsy as they settle down next to each other, restlessness caused by their reluctance to leave. They watch in silence as the hazy blue of the night slowly gives way to the delicate diffused hues of the dawning sun. 

As the first sliver of that sun breaks past the horizon, Juntae eventually whispers, “Thank you guys for coming.” 

Hyuntak, “Thanks for having us, Juntae-ya. I had the time of my life.” 

Suho, “Me too. I'll really miss it here.”

There's a silence—and then a sniffle. Everyone whips their heads around, only to see Baku holding back unshed tears, staring straight into the horizon. He steadfastly refuses to make eye contact with any of them. 

“There he goes.” Hyuntak pats him on the back, then wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Our resident crybaby never disappoints.” 

“I'm not crying. Something went into my eyes,” comes the hoarse excuse. 

“Yeah, yeah. We believe you.” 

Baku hiccups. 

Suho resists a fond huff, then leans his sleepy head against Sieun’s shoulder. The angle is awkward—he has to bend quite a bit to reach. He smiles as Sieun straightens his back for him, wanting to pull him in and smack an affectionate kiss on his cheek for it. He ignores the panicked little twist in his gut, and he lets himself entertain the thought in the dreamlike ambiguity of the early morning. 

The sunrays slowly greet them, with their orange hues blotting the clouds like watercolor. 

Then—awkward and stiff—Sieun lowers his head to rest against Suho’s. 

As the sun rises, up and up, Suho feels his eyes grow misty, too. 

The waves break, soft and friendly, against the shore. 

Suho lets his eyes close against that comforting lull. 

A while later, when they’re enjoying their last morning at the beach after an intense game of volleyball, Suho goes on a special hunt—for a seashell. The seashell to end all seashells, the grand finale to a beautiful saga. 

After a good half an hour of looking for the perfect seashell in the sweltering morning sun, he’s finally able to find a relatively big one—blues, browns and greys patterned across its textured shell—and he hums in satisfaction.

He takes it to Sieun, who's sitting under an umbrella and peacefully reading a book.

When he deposits it bang in the middle of the book as Sieun readies his fingers to turn a page, he's smug. Sieun stares at it, then looks up at Suho with an amused glint in his eyes. 

“For you,” Suho gestures at it, smirking. 

Sieun takes it in the palm of his hand and cradles it as Suho sits down in front of him.

Sieun murmurs, “Thank you,” as he traces its shell with his fingers and studies it. 

Suho looks on in quiet satisfaction.

It lasts for only those precious two minutes, because then Sieun slowly shifts to look through his backpack, and pulls out a shiny seashell that—if Suho's being honest—outdoes his measly find by a mile. In size, shape and color. It's white, with a multicolor sheen under the sunlight, nearly pearl-like and smooth. 

Sieun holds it out to him shyly, trying to casually clear his throat. He looks away and mumbles, “I found this one.” 

Suho, unmoving, feels his face twisting painfully. 

“Sieun-ah,” his voice cracks, “you're really…” such an insufferable perfectionist, “so thoughtful. Thank you.” 

Sieun, blissfully unaware of Suho's internal turmoil, looks down into his lap and distracts himself with his book, Suho's offering tucked reverently by his side. 

Suho closes his eyes and swallows against his pain.

He sorely accepts his defeat as he glares down at that stupidly shiny, perfect seashell. 

When fondness dares to creep in as he looks back at Sieun's guileless, unassuming face, he pushes it away with a petty huff. 

The smile fights its way onto his face anyway.

As he turns away to put it in his backpack, he doesn't see Sieun looking up at him with playful smugness in his eyes, mouth twitching into a nascent smirk of his own.

When Suho feels an odd weight against his back and turns to face Sieun, he hides his face in his book again, expression smoothed back out into a picturesque display of innocence. 

Huh, maybe it was the wind. 

When Suho and Sieun climb up the stairs of the house to get their packed suitcases, Suho goes out to the balcony one last time and stares into the neighborhood. The distant sea pokes out from the corner, slow dancing to its own tune against the windless and unmoving summer heat. 

Sieun slowly comes to stand next to him, the sleeve of his shirt tickling Suho's forearm as it brushes against his bare skin. 

Suho looks at him as he stares into the distance, then asks, “Did you like it here?” 

Sieun nods. 

“More than the city?” 

Sieun pauses, then nods again slowly. “Yeah. It's peaceful.” 

“Thought so,” Suho replies, looking down as an elderly lady walks up the road with fresh produce clutched in her hand, a little girl hopping energetically as she trails behind her, tanghulu stick shoved into her mouth.  

“I'll miss it.” 

Suho turns back to Sieun with a light smile. “Yeah?” 

Sieun nods. 

“Then we'll have to come back again.” Suho lets go of the railings and walks back into the room, patting and squeezing Sieun on his shoulder affectionately as he goes. “You'll drive us next summer, won't you?” 

“Yeah.” 

When they board the bus back to Seoul, they find that the seats are almost full, so they end up in different sections of the bus. 

Sieun ends up sitting next to Juntae, while Suho, Hyuntak and Baku sit a couple rows behind them. 

Suho, secretly pouting at not being able to sit next to Sieun, feeling a vague sense of envy as he watches Juntae make conversation with him, realizes that maybe he is a little possessive. 

Half an hour into their journey, after the trio review all the pictures Hyuntak took on his phone of their trip, Suho unlocks his own phone out of boredom. He steals a glance at Sieun as he pulls up his Katalk chat with him.

He types, Sieun-ssi. 

Sieun, sitting by the window seat and staring out into the scenery with his earbuds plugged in, startles when he hears his phone ping and sees a notification from Suho.

Suho watches as he looks down at the notification, then looks back out into the scenery. 

He blinks, then his fingers are speedily typing again.

Sieun-ssi, I saw you check your phone.

Infuriatingly, Sieun looks down into his phone again, then visibly lets out a sigh, shoulders heaving, and ignores him. 

Suho grows speechless. 

Sieun-ah, are you seriously ignoring me?? 

I'm bored

Sieun-ah, this isn't funny. Reply

None of it works. He watches as Sieun spares a brief glance at his texts, only to look back out into the scenery. Then Juntae asks him something, and he takes out one of his earbuds to hear him out. He replies, then engages in a small conversation with him. Suho, feeling an unreasonable bout of possessiveness, decides to switch angles as his eyes narrow in thought. 

Sieun-ah, he types. Your hair is sticking out at the back. It's unbearably cute. 

He leans back as he sees Sieun check his phone again, his ears slowly going red. His hand comes to smooth over his hair at the back, only to find that everything is in place.

He finally turns to glare at Suho. 

Suho cocks an eyebrow, mouth pulling into a smirk.

It makes Sieun glare harder, then whip his head back around. 

A moment later, a reply comes. 

Stop bothering me.  

Sieun-ah, I'm hurt. 

Don't care.

I'm bored, too. Won't you help me?

No.

Cute. Aegyo three-set, go

He watches Sieun's ears go even redder, most probably in anger, and snickers gleefully. 

He suddenly feels a pair of eyes watching him from the side, so he turns to Baku and Hyuntak, only to see their tired, beleaguered stares aimed at him.

“What?!” 

Sieun ends up blocking him for the rest of the ride. 

As revenge, Suho ignores him during the taxi ride back home from the station, then sticks his tongue out at him through the cab window as it pulls away from his house.

Sieun only spares him a brief, long-suffering glance.

When Suho gets back home, he unzips his suitcase in the living room and gives Halmeoni all the little souvenirs he'd bought in Gangneung—keychains from the quaint coffee shop, candies from Auntie's stash, fridge magnets from the aquarium store. Halmeoni huffs fondly as he relays the stories of the trinkets to her. 

He also has Auntie's snacks and side dishes, packed into little boxes as going away gifts for each of them. She looks particularly interested in those.

Later, as he's showing her all the pictures he took during the trip, she stops at the ones he took of Sieun in the aquarium, and smiles ever so fondly. 

“Oh, doesn't he just look so happy here? Such a sweet boy.” she coos, her voice crinkling at the edges. Suho grins. 

“Halmeoni, he really likes aquariums and sea animals.” 

She zooms into another picture of Sieun's face. “Halmeoni will take him to one, then.” 

Suho's heart squeezes. 

“Do you remember the one I took you to when you were a little boy?” her eyes take on a glazed expression as she reminisces, “Oh, those were the days. You were the sweetest little child, so curious and bubbly, and so naughty.” 

She raises a feeble hand to pat at his hair, pushing it away. He nods. “Yeah, I remember.” 

He thinks back to the aquarium that Halmeoni had taken him to when he was a kid. He remembers running around in fascination, staring up in awe at the tanks that seemed so larger than life. He also remembers making fast friends with a similarly aged girl as she recited some of the fish names to him, then sending her crying when he pointed at an ugly fish and jokingly said it looked like her.

Suddenly, he imagines what it would've been like if he had met Sieun as a child. He wonders if he would've been able to get him out of his shell, if they would've been good friends. Whether he would've been able to care for him and protect him, be his trusted companion. He probably would have tried to pull at Sieun’s proverbial pigtails, at that age. He would have tried everything to get Sieun's attention, and then he would've sulked about it when he inevitably failed, or felt his heart soar with elation when he succeeded—not a very far cry from his current dynamic with him. 

He finds himself wanting to know what Sieun looked like as a child. 

Heart jumping in innocent excitement, he makes a mental note to ask Sieun sometime. 

He finally asks when Sieun comes over a few days later, as he’s pouring over his math workbook, checking and marking his answers diligently. He goes right back into his mock exams preparation, even though he studied all summer before their trip to Gangneung. The floor cools their fronts as they lay spread eagle on their stomachs, and Suho stares at Sieun’s face from where his arm is propped up on an elbow. 

“What is it?” Sieun asks without looking up, reading an answer and marking it with a pencil. It scratches against the paper, movements methodical and practiced.

Suho hums, trying to imagine a baby Yeon Sieun, then breaks out into a fond smile. His eyes would’ve probably taken up half the real estate on his face. He pictures a baby Sieun looking up at him with the same indolent, tired gaze, and snickers.

It finally makes Sieun glance up at him. The pencil scratching slows to a halt.

Suho stops snickering. Then, eagerly,

“Sieun-ah, do you have any childhood pictures on your phone?”

Sieun blinks at him, then his features pull into a mild frown. “What?”

“Photos of you as a baby. I want to see.”

Sieun levels him with a blank stare, then says with finality, “No.” 

He resumes his marking.

“What? Please!”

“I don’t have it.”

“Sieun-ah, do you have photo albums? Can I come over to—”

“No.”

“Have you decided what you want to study in college?” Suho asks later, as they’re sitting on the terrace, sipping at their juice cartons. It’s night-time, and the horizon is brightly lit, pushing the stars in the sky into hiding. “Is it still surgery?”

Sieun shakes his head.

“Different,” he says, hesitant, “biotech.”

Suho tilts his head.

“Does it interest you?”

Sieun nods, then looks down and fiddles with his juice carton. “Yeah.”

After looking at him for a while, Suho breaks out into a soft smile. “That’s good. Study something that interests you.”

A chilly wind blows past them, making the back of Suho’s neck erupt into goosebumps. Suho notices Sieun trying to suppress a shiver. He clicks his tongue. “I told you to wear your hoodie, didn’t I?” he pulls his windbreaker off, dramatically shaking it out then wrapping it over Sieun. 

Sieun doesn't move. He stares at him with an odd expression instead. Suho’s hands hover over his shoulders, clutching at the lapels.

“Sieun-ah,” Suho gestures with his chin, frowning, “put your arms through.”

Sieun stares at him some more, then gradually puts his arms through the sleeves, left arm followed by right. Suho helps him shrug it on. As he adjusts the windbreaker around him, pulling it tight and snug, Suho feels his face warm at the sight of its slightly oversized fit on Sieun. He had never paid attention to how loosely his windbreakers sit on Sieun's frame. Now that he does, all he can see is how endearing it makes him look.  

His fingers poke out of the ends of the long sleeves, curling loosely around the hem. It makes Suho’s heart squeeze. 

He pulls away, looking out into the cityscape instead, eyes desperately seeking out a distraction as he gulps. “Better?” he croaks, the sudden bout of affection making him melt around the edges, despite the frigid air.

Sieun nods in his periphery, sinking into the lingering warmth left from Suho’s body. “Mm.”

They sit in companionable silence, then Sieun slowly asks, “Have you thought about university?”

Suho hums, then sighs. “Not really. I’ll focus on the GED for now.” Then, after a beat, “I think I want to start working part-time again soon.”

Sieun nods. “Okay.”

Suho busies himself with finishing his juice. He doesn’t see Sieun furtively sniff at the lapels where they’re raised to shield his neck, fingers tightening around the edges of the sleeves as his face heats, eyelids sliding close in contentment.

Like this, he nearly falls asleep, shrouded in warmth and the pleasantly mild scent of fabric detergent, and Suho.  

Soon, the gentle, mournful autumn breeze slowly begins to turn the trees into a muted orange-red, and the heat of summer starts to dissipate into the soft, dry winds of fall. 

As a new season sets in, Suho consults with his doctor, and begins to look for a part-time job with Youngyi’s help. She introduces him to her roommate's older acquaintance, Inhye, who runs a restobar, and he explains his condition to her as she patiently listens. 

She’s in her mid-thirties, gentle-natured and kind, despite her strong first impression: she’s littered with tattoos and piercings, her hair is short-cropped, and she sports a thick leather jacket and an all-black getup that drapes artfully across her lean frame.

Her restobar is moody, cozy and somewhat muted, ambient light scattered everywhere, but seems to pull in a pretty decent crowd of mostly younger, working-age people.

After he finishes talking, she sizes him up, then nods. “When are you good to start work?”

He blinks at her. 

She shoots him a warm smile. “I won’t overwork you. Work at your own pace. Take days off when you need to, but with discretion.” She cracks her neck, her tone mellow and relaxed, “Try this out for a couple weeks and see if it’s a good fit for you. What do you say?”

He stares at her in shock—he’s taken aback at how easily she agreed. He thought he’d have to do more convincing after explaining his state of affairs to her—after all, it’s not that easy to work part-time jobs anymore, especially for those with additional physical conditions and disabilities. He’s beginning to come to terms with his body’s limits, as painful as it feels to admit to himself. 

As her keen eyes observe him, he hides his surprise under an assured smile. “Sounds good, boss.”

She snorts. 

He adds, “And I’m ready to start whenever.”

“Great. Start from next week, then. Welcome aboard.”

It’s a surprisingly short interview, and goes startlingly smooth.

Afterwards, as he walks out of the restobar, the breeze gently beckons at him. 

Autumn makes itself known under the gentle crunch of the dry leaves under his feet, the heavy summer air turning crisp. He shoves his hands into his windbreaker as he stops at an intersection and waits for the light to turn green. 

Then—he spots a group of university students on the other side of the road, laughing and making light conversation with each other, looking happy and carefree. The longer he stares, the more he begins to find that it stirs something in him. 

Briefly, he imagines himself as a university student. 

It’s a surprisingly pleasant image.

For the first time since he woke up from his coma, he feels himself wanting to entertain the possibility of attending university. 

It’s a thought that unexpectedly stirs up the tiniest spark of hope and excitement in his heart. 

The light blinks green.

As he crosses the road, the breeze carries the sound of their laughter as they brush past him. 

Feeling an unexpected lump in his throat, he wonders if it’s because of the years of high school that he ended up sleeping through, or if it’s because he wants to explore the possibility of a different life for himself. Maybe it’s the novelty of being a university student—a fact that never appealed to him before, but feels like a new lease of life now. He finds himself wanting, regardless. He lets the thought linger as the sun slowly sinks past the tall buildings in the horizon. 

He stops by the grocery store on his way, picking up the cuts of meat and milk that Halmeoni had requested earlier that day. As he waits by the billing counter, smiling patiently at the newbie cashier who fumbles her way through scanning his items, two giggling teenagers crowd up in line behind him, whispering and elbowing each other. 

He tilts his head to spare a look at them, and sees that they’re uniformed highschoolers, both of them girls. They’re already sporting their autumn coats, orange-brown and thick, though the summer heat still lingers. One of them blushes as she makes eye contact with him, then looks away quickly. 

Just then, the cashier recites the total to him, and he hands over the cash as she stuffs his items in a bag. It crinkles as he grabs it, and he waves goodbye to her, wishing her luck. She wipes off her nervous sweat and bows awkwardly at him in response, grinning. 

He gets a call from Youngyi as he walks the rest of the way home in the dusky evening twilight. 

“Suho-ya, how’d it go? Did she like you?”

He huffs. “I mean, she basically hired me and asked me to start next week.”

“What? Ahn Suho!” she laughs, “Laid on the charm thick, did you?”

He scratches his brow, bag rustling against the side of his head. “I didn’t even do anything, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But she was pretty impressed by all the part-time work I was doing before I went vegetable mode.”

“Ah,” 

“Yeah, guess that’s what got me hired.”

He hears a muffled voice through the line, then Youngyi hums and laughs drily.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just that unnie’s saying she probably hired you because you’re handsome, because she’s kinda like that with her part-timers. But I don’t see it. Have you seen this guy, unnie?”

“Oh? Youngyi-ya…” he starts, concerned. 

“Yeah?”

Earnestly, “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?” 

She curses at him and hangs up.

Then, she texts him, happy for you, Suho-ya. 

He shakes his head fondly, and texts back, thanks for the help, Youngyi-ya.

As he enters the house, the door closes behind him with a small click, the overhead light turning on as he walks into the entryway. The smell of warm herbal tea wafts through as he toes his shoes off and absentmindedly begins, “Halmeoni, I got the…”

A pause. 

“Halmeoni!”

The grocery bag drops by the side of his feet as he immediately rushes forward. 

She’s swaying dangerously by the kitchen entrance, propped against the side of the wall as she clutches at her head. Suho goes to support her on her other side, and frantically asks, “Can you walk? I’ll take you to the sofa.”

She nods faintly, and begins to push away from the wall, but stumbles forward. Suho curses under his breath. “Wait, let me—” 

He makes sure she’s fully leaning on him, and they slowly trudge their way to the sofa, Suho supporting almost all of her weight. Once she sits down, he kneels by her feet and peers into her face worriedly. It’s an agonizingly slow and painful few seconds, where he doesn’t quite know what to do.

She takes a few deep breaths as she reorients herself. 

“Suho-ya,” she begins weakly, “Halmeoni is fine, don’t worry.”

Suho frowns. “Sit still.”

He rushes into the kitchen, and rushes out with water. He sits by her side on the sofa as he tilts the glass towards her mouth and feeds her. His palms are sweaty as they grip the glass, and his heart beats an anxious rhythm against his chest.

She leans back once she’s done with the water, then looks at him with tired eyes as she attempts a smile.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asks, searching her face for any signs of concern. He places the back of his hand against her forehead, then her throat, checking for a fever.

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I just stood up too quickly from the sofa. Halmi is sorry for making you worry.”

Suho lets out a deep breath, his frown easing only a little.

She’s had little spells of dizziness before, but she looked like she was about to fall back there. If Suho hadn’t made it in time… 

He doesn’t want to think of the possibility. Instead, he fusses over her the rest of the evening, giving her some more water and asking her to stay put while he makes them dinner. Later, when she gets up to come sit at the dining table, she seems to be fine again. 

When he tries to insist on going to the hospital for a checkup, she waves it off dismissively, and stubbornly refutes him. She makes the excuse that it’s just old age, and a one-time occurrence because of the change in weather. He sighs in defeat, and silently vows to take her to get checked, no questions asked, if it happens again. 

“Halmeoni,” he says during dinner, helping her ladle some more stew into her bowl. “I got the job I was telling you about.”

Her face relaxes into a smile, eyes crinkling into half-moons. “Oh! That’s good to hear, little one.” She takes the bowl from his hands. “But, are you sure about working again?”

He nods eagerly. “Hundred percent. It’s boring being at home all the time, anyway.”

She gives him another warm smile, murmuring that he should pace himself well. He nods, but gets distracted by the way her hands shake as she eats. The image of her swaying lingers in his mind for the rest of the meal, and he checks on her again as she readies herself for bed. 

She insists that she’s fine, that he should stop worrying about her. 

Suho sleeps restlessly that night. 

Sieun’s new term starts, and he gets busy with his hagwon, having to attend it everyday after school in preparation for Suneung. He’s barely able to make time to come over to Suho’s because of upcoming mock exams, and Suho insists that he rests at home one night when Sieun ends up coming in absurdly late, sounding near incoherent. 

As a result, the house is quiet most nights, but for the few cicadas buzzing outside and Halmeoni’s soft, familiar puttering around as she goes about her night-time routine. 

It’s lonely. 

Suho calls Sieun to check in on him at the end of every day, and Sieun does the same.

He tries not to miss him too much as he listens to him sleepily recap his day, and everything he studied in school and at hagwon, phone clutched tightly to his ear as Sieun’s voice grows fainter, sleep taking over him gradually. 

It’s in those moments that he lets the depth of his affection envelop him, secretly, as the intimacy of a whispered conversation lingers, and permeates the air enough to create a warm blanket of fog that pillows his heart. He cherishes what Sieun sounds like over the phone, seconds before sleep—as he slurs through his words, as they take on rounder, softer shapes that are intimate and sweet. He smiles openly and fondly when he hears his aborted yawns, and his low hums as Suho gently asks, “Sleepy?”

And as he inevitably drifts off into sleep, Suho secretly lets the call go on for a few extra minutes every time, and tries to catch Sieun’s soft breathing. 

During Sieun’s mock exam week, Suho starts worrying about how Sieun’s eating and if he’s doing okay, if he’s getting enough sleep. He spends his days zoning out over his opened GED workbook, preoccupied with thoughts about how Sieun is doing. His texts go unanswered for long periods of time, and Sieun always eventually replies to his concerned questions with assurance, but it still makes Suho antsy that he hasn’t seen his face in nearly a week. 

Halmeoni sees him worrying and pacing, and finally pauses her knitting to sigh and say, “Little one, why don’t you just pay him a visit if you’re going to be like this?” 

So he decides to make him something nice, and he brings it over one evening without letting Sieun know, wanting it to be a surprise. He buzzes the intercom button, and waits with an assortment of items in his hands, thanks to Halmeoni’s last minute additions.

Sieun’s mom's voice floats through the intercom. “Who is it?—Oh, Suho?”

He flashes her a smile and bows through the video stream. “Hello, Eomeo-nim.”

She opens the door a few short seconds later, surprise etched into her features. “Come in, come in.” 

He walks in as she takes a few steps back, and toes off his shoes, holding up the bag of food to say, “Just got a few things for Sieun, since he’s studying so hard.”

“Oh!” She takes the bag from him. “That’s very thoughtful. I was just about to order in dinner.”

She takes it into the kitchen, then gestures with her hand towards a closed door on the left. “Go say hi.”

He bows to her in thanks, then walks over to the door, twisting the handle. It unlocks with a soft click, and he opens the door slowly. 

He feels a fond smile spread as he sees Sieun studying under the light of his desk lamp, back to the door, earphones plugged in. His room is shrouded in darkness but for the desk lamp lighting it up in the corner, and it's completely quiet, but for his pencil scratching softly against paper.

His fond smile turns wistful as he stares at Sieun’s hunched back—it conjures up the image of Sieun sitting all by himself in class years ago, similarly tuned out to the world. It makes his chest feel itchy. 

He stares at Sieun’s hunched back, slowly coming back to the present. Suddenly, an idea creeps into his head as he scratches away at his itch.

Cracking a conspiratory grin, Suho backs out of the room in little steps. He closes the door shut with a soft click, then pads over to the kitchen. 

Sieun’s mom is pouring out juice at the island. She looks up and smiles as he enters the kitchen, handing it over. He takes it with thanks, hands cupping the glass. 

“Sieunie?” 

“Ah, he’s busy studying. Didn’t wanna disturb him. Eomeo-nim,” he instead pivots, and she raises an inquisitive brow at him, “do you have any pictures of Sieun as a kid?”

She blinks at him. Then, slowly,

“Well… Yes. Of course.” She clears her throat, a light smile tugging at her features. “Would you like to see?”

Later, as Suho’s got his head buried in a picture album, crossed-legged on the floor and phone clutched in his hand as Sieun’s mom sits behind him on the couch, he hears the room door finally click open. 

“—and that’s when Sieun was—oh, look who’s here,”

Suho looks up and sees Sieun standing frozen in front of his room door, eyes wide and unblinking. 

“Suho-ya?”

Sieun’s gaze lands on the photo album, and Suho grins. “Sieun-ah, you were so cute as a kid. Why are your chubby cheeks melting away? Such a shame,”

Sieun’s mom sighs in agreement, then gets up off the couch. “Sieun-ah, Suho’s got you so much food. Come, let me arrange the table.” 

She walks into the kitchen as Suho flips over to the next page of the album, and sees Sieun’s blank little face clutching at a doll that’s shaped like a fish, staring up into the camera. His heart squeezes tight against his chest. “So cute,” he murmurs, opening up the camera app on his phone again.

Before he can focus his camera, Sieun’s stalking over to rip the album away from Suho’s grip, a bright shade of red coloring his neck and ears. Suho protests. “Hey!” 

Sieun clutches it tightly to his chest, face pulling into a particularly aggrieved frown. It makes Suho stop in his tracks. “Sieun-ssi?”

“Don’t look at it.” Sieun whispers, then shoves it back into the cabinet under the television.

“...Okay.” Suho reaches out with the intention to pull his downturned face up, then hovers his hand awkwardly between them as he second-guesses the action. Before he can make a decision, Sieun’s turning away and waddling to the kitchen, back hunching in dejection. Suho’s chest starts feeling itchy again.

He swallows, unused to the feeling of indecision paralyzing him. 

When Suho follows him into the kitchen, his mom is opening up the packed boxes. She gestures for them to sit down as she grabs some instant rice from the microwave. “Ah, that’s samgyetang.” he says, elbowing Sieun. “Made it just for you.”

“Oh…” his mom begins as she pulls up a chair for herself, mouth pulled into a sad pout, “Sieun doesn’t usually… Like…”

She trails off as Sieun grabs his bowl and spoon, and begins to serve himself the broth.

“Thank you for the food.” he mumbles, then takes a big bite.

His mom blinks at him.

Suho looks expectantly, then smiles wide when Sieun finishes swallowing and murmurs, “It’s good.”

His mom looks down into her own bowl and lets out a huff—part exasperated, part fond. 

Later, when Suho’s looking around Sieun’s bedroom, Sieun awkwardly hovers by his desk. 

He takes his time to admire Sieun’s various academic achievements and medals that are scattered and hung around, and his little elementary-school aged face posing with trophies. Then, having inspected enough, he turns and walks over to Sieun’s desk. 

Sieun watches him with beady, shifty eyes. 

Suho runs his hand over Sieun’s opened workbook, then locks eyes with Sieun. 

“Why don’t you like pictures of your younger self?”

Sieun avoids his gaze. 

“Hm?”

Suho takes an inquisitive step forward, trying to lower himself to meet Sieun’s downturned eyes, hand shoved into his windbreaker pocket.

“Who likes their childhood pictures?”

Suho narrows his eyes, then straightens himself. “I’ve never seen an elementary school kid as adorable as you, though.”

Sieun frowns at him. “Don’t say meaningless things.”

Suho blinks at him. “I don’t say meaningless things. Were you never told how adorable you are?”

Sieun suddenly pulls out his desk chair, sitting down with a plop as he mumbles, “I don’t remember.”

Suho ends up staring at the cute whirl on the crown of his head as he picks up his pencil and starts scratching away at his workbook. 

“Sieun-ah,” he mumbles, hand reaching out to pet the back of Sieun’s head, only to hesitate once again. He hovers there for a long second, then lets his hand drop away in defeat. 

He sighs, and so does his yearning heart.

If Sieun notices his lack of affection, he doesn’t comment on it. 

Rather, he isn’t able to muster up the courage to comment on it. Neither does he have the words at his disposal. 

The feeling instead sits uncomfortably in his heart, tilting his world by a degree, an inch, creating just an ounce of heaviness in his chest. 

He shoves it aside, and solves his integral equation instead.

A week later, Suho begins his part-time job. The nerves set in as he stands in front of the door to the restobar, umbrella in hand as the last of the monsoon rains patter down against the pavement in light sheets. 

A sign reading ‘Soul’ flickers warmly above the door as it's pelted by droplets of rain. 

He inhales deeply, and pushes the door open, folding the umbrella in as he enters. 

He’s warmly greeted by Inhye, the owner, from behind the bar. Another part-timer looks up and shoots him a grin as he makes his way over to them. 

He lets a warm smile take over his face.

He’s introduced to the team, and handed his black button-down and nametag as he spends the first day learning and familiarizing himself with the restaurant. 

It’s decently sized, with a floorplan that extends out from the bar and has slight terracing, and a step leading into a lower level that has intimate, semi-circular booths. It’s lowly lit, with ambient light scattered around, and the tables are a warm, deep shade of brown wood to match with the flooring. There are boardgames piled up in a corner, and the music is set to a comfortable hum—the place feels cozy and lived-in. The rain knocks a friendly tune against the glass windows that face the street outside.

The team takes after its owner, laidback and relaxed. Most of the regulars that visit seem to know Inhye well, and they make their way in despite the rainy weather. 

Suho adjusts quickly. 

It’s a moderate pace of work, and it doesn’t tire him out as much as he expected it to, either. He thinks to himself that if he adjusts his sleep schedule a little more, he’ll be able to acclimatize to the work hours. He conveys as much to Inhye, and she breaks out into a friendly grin and pats him on the back.

He works the evening shift, only heading back home after helping close that night. 

By the time Suho gets home, it’s late. 

He takes a quick shower and lies in bed, wondering if he should call or text Sieun, when his phone suddenly flashes with an incoming call.

He picks it up with a grin. 

“Mm, Sieun-ah.” 

Like that, August gradually fades into September, and as Sieun submits his applications for university admissions, Suho gets into the swing of things at work. He makes fast friends with most of the staff, particularly a waitress named Subin, and the bartender Hyesung. 

Subin is tall, almost as tall as Suho, and has long hair that she usually ties into a bun during shifts. She has the stature of a model, and an extroverted confidence in her gait. Hyesung, on the other hand, is short when he's not behind the bar counter. He has hair that's dyed a light blonde, a dragon tattoo that sits on his forearm where his sleeves are rolled up, and a lean body that's lightly muscled. When Suho asks if he's an athlete, he cracks a smile and says he does MMA for fun. Suho immediately brightens, and the ensuing conversation eventually has to be broken up by Inhye. 

He gets accustomed to the steady flow of customers at the bar. Some of them even make light conversation with him, curious about the charismatic newcomer who flits through the tables with relaxed ease. He enjoys the attention, and enjoys speaking to a diverse array of people after a long while spent with nothing but the four walls of his house to keep him company.

Some nights, Sieun calls at 12AM, around cleaning time, and he always picks up. He has muted conversation with him as he wipes the place down. Subin and Hyesung sometimes shoot him inquisitive looks as he raises the phone to his ear with a fond smile.

When he hangs up one night, he finds Subin wiping down a table near him as he mops the floor. She raises a brow. “Girlfriend again?”

“What?” He blinks in confusion.

“That person you talk to every night.”

Suho’s mop slows down to a halt. “That’s—it’s not—”

She raises another brow. “Or maybe your situationship?”

His mouth gapes, opening and closing like a fish. Finally, he manages, “Not—no. Friend.”

She bursts into laughter. “Why are you making that weird face? Oh,” her mouth forms an ‘o’ as she realizes, “let me guess, you like them? Is it one-sided?”

He lets out a disbelieving huff. “How’d you manage to get all that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, have you seen the way you look—or heard the way you sound?”

“What's that mean?” 

“That there's honey dripping from your voice, and from your eyes.” 

He rubs the back of his head self-consciously, looking around to make sure no one’s overhearing. He finds Hyesung rubbing whiskey glasses a little too nonchalantly nearby, ears perked, and he sighs.

“No, it’s nothing like that. We’re just best friends, that’s all.”

He starts mopping again. She doesn’t prod any further, only raises a brow, then gets back to scrubbing.

The next night, after he hangs up, she asks, “How long have you guys known each other?”

He grins. “A couple years now—well, a couple months, but also a couple years.”

She blinks incredulously at him, scrubbing abruptly stopping. “What?”

That night, as he relays his years spent in a coma, modifying his story to make it seem like an accident, Hyesung and Subin learn a little more about him as they listen with jaws dropped. 

It makes them all the more endeared to him, unbeknownst to him.

“So, what kind of girls do you like? Other than your not-girlfriend.” 

Subin's leaning her elbows behind her against the bar counter, posture relaxed, hair untied and falling past her waist. Hyesung tilts his upper body towards him from behind the bar, and tacks on, “I'm curious, too.” 

Kids these days, he thinks, even though both of them are older than him by a good few years. They're both university students, Subin in her fourth year of undergrad, and Hyesung in his second year of grad school.

He continues mopping, absentmindedly answering, “Nah, I don't like girls.” 

When he's met with an uncharacteristic silence, he slowly turns around and sees both of them trying not to gape at him. He cracks a lopsided smile, then laughs a little awkwardly. “Haha,” 

“Ha, ha,” Subin mirrors, then Hyesung joins, and then all three of them are laughing. 

“You should've seen the looks on your faces!” Suho chortles, as he resumes his mopping. 

Both of them eventually calm down, and then Subin asks, “So you were joking, yeah?” 

Suho stops, expression turning deadly serious. “No.” 

Both of them slowly blink at him. 

“...Oh.” 

Inhye, sitting by their side on a barstool, snorts from behind her laptop.

“Hyung, what’s it like being in university?” 

Hyesung, wiping the bar counter, pauses. 

Suho settles into a barstool, and rests his elbows on the counter.

Hyesung shrugs. “It’s so-so.”

“Really?”

He hums. “I don’t really like studying. But I like everything else about it.”

“Like what?”

“The friends, the events and experiences. Why?”

Suho purses his lips and tilts his head. “Was just curious, I guess.”

Inhye stops click-clacking on her laptop to add from the side, “I think Suho would enjoy university.”

“What? What are you guys talking about?” Subin pulls off her cleaning apron as she approaches the bar, folding it over the back of a barstool as she reties her hair. 

Inhye, “Suho going to university.”

Subin gasps, then hits his upper arm excitedly. “He’d totally be the campus heart-throb!”

Suho snorts. “Noona, what are you on about?”

She ignores him, instead talking over him as she asks, “Which department?”

He shrugs, then thinks about it. He isn’t sure what interests him enough to study and then pursue a career in. “Dunno,” he says after thinking for a while, head resting on his curled fist, “I guess I’ve always just had odd jobs, never gave uni much thought,”

Inhye hums. “You have time. You can start thinking about it now.”

The thought excites him. “Yeah, you’re right. S’pose I can.”

Subin, on the other hand, frowns. “What do you mean, you never thought about university?”

“Ah,” Suho rubs at his nose, scrunching it, “we weren’t doing too well financially, so I worked a couple part-time jobs before the coma, couldn’t really find time to study well.”

“A couple?” Hyesung pauses.

“Yeah, like three? It was four at some point. I just did whatever I could.”

They gape at him. Inhye glances over with a somber expression, tinged with ruefulness at its edges. 

“What?” he laughs nervously.

Subin comes up and wraps an arm around his shoulder, squeezing with her hand. “Kiddo,” her voice is inflected with something strange—not pity, but unexpectedly familial and warm, protective—as she says, “you’re going to university, no matter what.”

Suho looks at her with amusement, and huffs, “Yes, noona.”

He visits a couple college websites that night, and reads through their courses diligently. As he lays in bed, he gradually falls asleep to the distant sound of laughter, and the blurry image of Yeon Sieun waiting for him by college gates. It puts a light smile on his face. 

Youngyi visits one day near closing time, and to Suho's complete and utter surprise, she brings Sieun along with her. 

It's right after Suho's staring down at his phone, waiting for Sieun's call, wondering if he should call him instead. Subin's about to tease him for the way his face is pinched in worry, when Hyesung comes close and leans against him, resting his elbow on his shoulder and invasively peering into his phone. 

Suho tries to shake him off, quickly pressing the lock button, but Hyesung goes, “Who's Sieun? Your bestie?” 

Subin comes up, table scrubbing abandoned. “Oh. It's a girl?” she frowns, “Then why were you acting all weird? I thought you didn't like—” 

Suddenly, the door flies open, and from a distant corner table, Inhye looks up from her laptop in surprise. 

“Unnie!” a shrill voice cries out, and Suho knows who it belongs to before he even turns around. 

Youngyi shoots past him, barreling into Inhye, and Inhye laughs fondly. “Hey, little twerp. What are you doing here?” 

Suho looks on in amusement as Inhye ruffles Youngyi's hair like she's her pet dog, letting out a small snort. 

Then, he notices that Subin and Hyesung have come to a complete stop next to him, Hyesung's elbow still laying on his shoulder, frozen. 

Suho frowns in confusion, then follows their gaze, and when he turns his head, he sees Sieun—hair wind-worn, eyes wide open and unguarded, staring at Suho’s face—no, staring somewhere past Suho's face, off to his right.

“Sieun-ah,” he breathes, and he hears Subin and Hyesung's breath simultaneously catch. 

Suddenly, he realizes that Sieun's staring at Hyesung's arm on his shoulder, and shrugs it off, coughing awkwardly and resting his mop against a table.

“Sieun-ssi, what brings you here, seriously? I’m so happy to see you!” He grins indulgently at him, walking towards him. Sieun is seemingly frozen by the entrance. “Come in, it's cold out!” 

He pulls him in by the elbow.

Sieun finally snaps out of his daze, and—in an act that nearly makes the back of Suho’s neck break out into cold sweat—gives him a painfully slow once over. 

So painfully slow, that Suho has to wave his hand in front of his face. “You there?” 

Sieun gulps, then nods. “Youngyi asked if I wanted to come.” 

“And you actually came! Isn't it late? Did you study well?”  

Suho pulls him further in, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they approach the still-frozen Subin and Hyesung. 

What the hell, he thinks, did Youngyi bring the winter winds in with her? Why is everyone so stiff? 

“Guys,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “this is Yeon Sieun, my best friend.” 

“O-oh!” Subin suddenly springs into action, reaching out her hand abruptly, startling Sieun. “I'm Subin!” 

“I'm Hyesung,” 

Hyesung looks between Suho and Sieun, as if trying to process a reality that doesn't make sense to him.

Sieun, in the meantime, awkwardly takes Subin's hand. “Hello.” 

Youngyi finally joins them, and elbows Hyesung out of the way as she comes to hug Suho. “Did you like my surprise?” she looks up at him, smirking insufferably. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he struggles out of her grip, “outta my way, I gotta finish cleaning so that I can catch up with Sieunie,” 

He doesn’t catch Sieun averting his eyes, ears tinging red. Subin and Hyesung, on the other hand, do—and they lock eyes conspiratorily. 

Suho gets back to mopping, until the place is neat and tidy, making sure not to leave a single speck of dust on the floor. In the meantime, Youngyi pulls Sieun over to the bar, conversing with him as Hyesung goes back behind the counter to get them glasses of water. 

Subin shoots him subtle looks as she finishes scrubbing her tables, and he pointedly ignores all of them. 

Once everyone's done, and Inhye's wrapped up her usual P&L roundup, they gather by the bar before they bid their goodbyes.

Inhye greets Sieun, warmly saying, “Youngyi's mentioned you so much.” 

Subin comes out of the back room yawning, having changed into her regular clothes, and lightheartedly tacks on, “You're so handsome! How can a guy be so pretty?”

Suho narrows his eyes at her in warning, and she winks at him playfully.

Sieun averts his gaze and sips at his water. Suho resists reaching out to comfort him. 

When Hyesung hugs him goodbye later as they leave, he sees Sieun staring with an odd intensity. He doesn’t think too much of it. 

When Sieun is a little withdrawn as Suho drops him back home, Suho doesn’t think too much of that, either. It’s probably just his exhaustion.

Suneung rolls around quickly, and the winds of fall become sharper and colder. 

Suho visits with more food on his off-days. Sometimes, Sieun’s mom is present, other times, she’s out for work reasons. Suho always takes care to not disturb Sieun too much, instead leaving little notes for him sometimes, staying for a few minutes then wishing him luck and leaving.

Closer to the exam day, Sieun contacts him a lot less frequently, texting him little affirmatives at the end of the day. Suho, knowing it’s an important day for him, leaves him be, worries about him secretly. 

Suho texts him encouragement, nags at him a little to eat and sleep, and Sieun always replies with an ‘Okay’.

Sometimes, he sends little pictures of healthy snacks from the stash that Halmeoni had packed for him, with a thumbs up emoji or an, ‘It’s good’. Suho’s heart squeezes as he stares fondly at the awkward, shaky angle on the food, Sieun’s hand occasionally holding it up and sneaking into the corner of a few shots.

It’s so endearing that it makes him nauseous. 

Once, after a particularly cute shot of a lone cookie from Halmeoni’s assortment, sent with an awkward thumbs up emoji, Suho impulsively types, ‘I’d die for you’, into the chat box, then jumps as Halmeoni peaks over his shoulder—he accidentally presses send. 

“Halmeoni!” he stares in panic at the text. She blinks at him in confusion. 

To his horror, it’s read almost immediately. 

From: Sieunie 

?

A few days before the exam, Suho drops by on Halmeoni’s request, bringing some more healthy snacks and drinks to Sieun. 

As he’s toeing on his shoes to leave, he suddenly has a thought. 

“Eomeo-nim,” he turns to Sieun’s mom, who’s standing by the foyer to send him off. 

“Hm?”

“Do you have anything planned with Sieun after his exam?” 

She thinks, then shakes her head. “I thought I’d bring him home and have dinner.”

“Then…” he turns to face her, “then is it okay if I pick him up, and bring him to dinner with his friends?”

She smiles at him. “I’m sure he’d love that.”

He returns her smile.

On the day of the exam, Suho waits by the entrance of the academy venue, stretching and cracking his neck. It’s evening, the sun beginning to set brilliantly, hues of orange pink tinting blue skies. The winter chill has set in, so Suho sports thick padding instead of his usual windbreaker getup. 

He gets cold a lot more often, and a lot easier than he used to. He takes care to keep warm whenever he can, so as to not worry Halmeoni. 

He pulls the padding tight around himself as he glances at the clock on his phone, and sees that it's about time.

As students come shuffling out, some of them look as if the heaviest weight has been lifted off their chest, stretching and walking with a lightness to their step. Others look burdened, shoulders slumped, as they meet their parents who are keenly waiting by the entrance. He lets his eyes wander in search of a particular head of hair, a particularly endearing and blank little face.

He spots Sieun before Sieun spots him, and watches fondly as he waddles along, unaware that Suho’s waiting by the gates.

When he gets closer, Suho raises his voice and calls, “Yeon Sieun!” 

Sieun stops. He looks around, confused, eyes clouded and lost as if he’d heard a ghost. Then, as they land on Suho, they blink clear. 

Sieun looks beautiful in the diffused light of the sunset, hair and skin bathing in the warmth of the golden hour, the very picture of youth. Small, light specks of dust float around in the air between them, and the rush of students fade into the background as their gazes land on each other.

Suho grins at him and waves, heart skipping in excitement.

There’s a beat of stillness as he lowers his arm. 

Then, 

He watches in slow motion as Yeon Sieun’s eyes slowly soften into crescents. 

He watches—breath caught, heart suddenly in his throat—as the loveliest little smile takes over Sieun’s face, first through his shining eyes, then in the rise of his cheeks, finally in the upturned corners of his mouth. 

His mouth makes the shape of, “Suho-ya,” 

Suho can’t hear, but he turns to mush nonetheless, his own eyes wide and drinking in the sight of Yeon Sieun walking, then jogging towards him—he’s never looked so young, so light and boyish.

Suddenly, Suho’s vision is blurred.

As he blinks away the moistness, clears his tightened throat, Sieun finally comes to stand in front of him. 

“Did you do well?” Suho asks, vocal chords stripped raw. He attempts a watery grin—and hopes Sieun doesn’t notice his tears.

Sieun just nods, breaking out into another soft smile that sets Suho’s heart ablaze. 

“Yeah.”

Later, after taking Sieun home to freshen up, they meet with Baku, Hyuntak and Juntae for bulgogi. 

Baku immediately hops out of his chair as they arrive at the restaurant, lifting Sieun up into an airborne hug before depositing him back on the ground and ruffling his hair. “Did you ace it? Huh?” 

Sieun stands docile and lets Baku finish his thorough ruffling. Then, he nods. “Yeah.” 

Juntae and Hyuntak cheer, and Juntae pulls him by his hands into the chair next to him. Hyuntak reaches out for a fistbump that Sieun returns, then says, “It went better than expected, didn't it?” 

Suho snorts, a fond smile on his face as he goes to sit next to Baku, pulling him into a side hug. “Ahn Suho,” Baku gasps, “you been working out? Your shoulder's kinda jacked,” 

Suho grins as Baku feels him up. “Yeah, can you tell now? Took forever for the muscles to start building again.” 

Hyuntak shoots him a toothy grin. “Dude, Baku and I have been hitting the gym, you should totally join us.” 

Suho brightens and nods. “Yeah, I'll make time.”

“How's your job going?” Juntae asks. 

“It's going well. You should visit sometime, we have really good food. Oh, speaking of,” 

Suho makes way for the server as their meat arrives at their table. They start grilling, and the sizzling meat makes Suho's mouth water. 

Later, as they're stuffing themselves full, Suho makes a wrap and catches Sieun watching. He grins, then holds it up as Sieun opens his mouth. 

He pushes the wrap in and pats Sieun's stuffed cheek as he chews. 

None of their friends blink, instead carrying on their conversation as usual. When Juntae shoots Suho a small smile, he averts his eyes and shoves some more meat into his mouth, smothering his embarrassed grin as he stuffs his own cheeks.  

Sieun sits with a light smile on his face through the night.  

After Suneung, Sieun starts visiting Suho’s workplace more often, sometimes casually studying for entrance exams or reading quietly at other times.

Inhye watches over him, makes sure he has something to eat or drink on the house. He takes her little snacks gratefully. Suho’s heart swells with a quiet happiness when he occasionally makes eye contact with him, sometimes catching Sieun watching him as he flits through the tables. 

Whenever he goes to joke with Hyesung by the bar, he always feels the heat of Sieun’s gaze on him. But when he looks over, Sieun’s intently staring down at his book. It makes him wonder if his intuition is wrong. He shakes it off. 

When Sieun’s hanging out by the restobar one evening, Youngyi in tow this time, Subin and Hyesung strike up a conversation with them during closing hour.

As Suho finishes his work in the backroom and comes to join them by the bar, Hyesung wraps an affectionate arm around his shoulder and pulls him in close. He grins playfully at Hyesung, patting him at the waist. “You worked hard today, hyung.”

Hyesung laughs, then shares with the group, “Some girl came by to ask about Suho earlier.”

“Oh?” Youngyi looks around.

“Nah, she’s gone now. I jokingly told her he’s mine, but I think she took me seriously.” 

Suho and Youngyi laugh. Sieun stares into space. 

“Speaking of being taken,” Subin turns to face Sieun, voice lisping through the clip hanging from her mouth as she reties her hair, “we thought you were Suho's girlfriend, you know.”

She winks at him playfully as she removes the clip and sticks it into the back of her head. “That is, before he told us he's gay.”

Suho freezes. 

So does everyone else. 

Subin blinks when she realizes that everyone's fallen silent. “Oh. That was—I was just joking—” 

Youngyi shoots a panicked look at him. 

He refuses to look at Sieun. 

Hyesung clears his throat. “Well,”

He doesn’t see Sieun looking between him and Hyesung, somewhat of a realization dawning in his eyes. Then, he abruptly stands up, startling everyone. 

He pushes past Suho, walking towards the entrance with purpose. 

Subin, eyes wide as she realizes what's happening, that Sieun doesn't know, whispers, “I'm so sorry—” but he doesn't wait to hear, just grabs his bag and follows Sieun out, heart racing anxiously against his chest. 

“Sieun-ah!” he calls as he bursts out of the entrance, only to see Sieun stalking down the empty road. 

His heart races even more at the thought of Sieun walking all by himself so late at night, and he speeds up into a jog, then runs the last few paces and grabs him by the shoulder. 

“Sieun-ah, what's wrong? Why are you—” 

Sieun shrugs off his shoulder, and continues walking. Suho runs up in front of him and blocks his way. When Sieun tries to sidestep him, he follows. When he tries again, Suho grabs his right shoulder. When he shrugs it off, Suho grabs his left shoulder. 

When he shrugs it off again, refusing to look at Suho, instead glaring red-hot holes into his chest, Suho anxiously asks, “Sieun-ah, can you please tell me what's wrong?” 

“Nothing's wrong.” 

Sieun pushes past him, continuing to stalk forward. Suho helplessly follows as he speedily walks, and walks, and walks some more, onto a path that takes them through an open park, landscaped trees lining either sides of the road and warm yellow streetlamps lighting up their path in the dark of the night. 

Suho tries multiple times to get him to talk, but he refuses. 

Soon, Sieun tires, and they reach a children's playground, so Suho suggests that they sit by the swings to catch their breath. Sieun stops, then abruptly turns and stalks towards the swings with the petulance of a child, and it endears Suho despite the absolute confusion of his current predicament. 

He vaguely wonders how he suddenly went from peacefully cleaning the floor to sitting on a dusty swing, trying to figure out what Sieun's thinking, and trying not to assume the worst.

Finally, he musters up his courage.

“Are you—are you upset at what Subin noona said?” 

Sieun stiffens, swing creaking to a halt. 

“Upset?” Sieun blankly stares into the sand. “No.” 

Silence hangs in the air. Suho frowns, opening his mouth. 

Then, Sieun whispers, “I'm confused.” 

Suho exhales, then gulps. I'm fucked, he thinks. 

“What's confusing?” He laughs drily. “It was just a joke.” 

There's a suffocating, unbearable silence, then Sieun slowly whispers, “Was it?” 

And Suho stiffens. 

“Yeah,” he tries, but it comes out weak and unconvincing. When he locks eyes with Sieun, he finds that his piercing gaze is trained right on him, and so he finds himself unable to lie. “No,” he breathes, “no, it wasn't.” 

“Fine.” comes the muted, stiff reply, and then Sieun is getting up, and he starts to walk away again.

Suho scrambles up, surprised. “Sieun-ah,” 

He grabs him by the elbow, and tightens his grip when he tries to pull away from him this time. Instead, he uses his strength to get Sieun to face him, to try and get some clarity out of this bewildering situation. 

“What's with you? Why are you reacting like this?” 

Sieun glares at his hand where it's gripping his elbow, and he wonders if that’s disgust in his expression, so he loosens his grip and lets his hand slide away. “Are you… Does it gross you out?” 

Sieun turns that glare on him. Suho cringes. “Does what gross me out?” 

“That I'm, you know…” 

Sieun frowns. “I don't know.” 

“That…” he swallows against the sudden lump in his throat, “That I'm gay. Sieun-ah, I like men.” 

He clears his throat uncomfortably, looking everywhere else but Sieun. 

When he's met with a long silence, he finally turns his gaze back on him, and finds himself confronted with a complicated stare. 

“What's with that look?” Suho shuffles his feet in the sand. “Does it really make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Sieun says, visibly uncomfortable. 

“Hey, it clearly does—Yeon Sieun—”

“It doesn't. I—” Sieun's face pinches into a frown, and he purses his lips as he looks away, expression unexpectedly heavy. He avoids Suho's gaze. “I don't care. It's not my business.” 

Suho tilts his head at him. It's a reaction he didn't expect. Then again, he's not even sure what he expected in the first place. 

“Okay.” 

Suho doesn't know what else to say. 

Apparently, neither does Sieun, who still has a deep frown on his face. Suho's heart clenches at the sight. He didn't expect Sieun to be this disapproving. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin. He fights the uncomfortable swirling in his stomach, and clears his throat again. “I'll drop you home.” 

Sieun shakes his head. “No.” 

“No?” Suho blinks at him. 

“I… I'll go home with Youngyi.” 

“What?” 

Sieun gets his phone out, and dials Youngyi's number with shaking hands. “Mm, can you come get me? I'm with Suho. No. Yeah, I sent it to you.” 

Suho's heart slowly shatters. 

“Sieun-ssi,” he begins, then stops as Sieun walks towards the path. 

He doesn't dare continue, and stands there staring at Sieun's unresponsive back as he waits for Youngyi. 

When he sees Youngyi's figure distantly making her way towards them, he goes to pick up his bag from beside his swing, and spares one more glance at Sieun's back. 

He opens his mouth to say, ‘I'm leaving’, then abruptly closes it, and walks away in dejected silence. 

Sieun ignores him, and keeps ignoring him. 

At first, Suho feels complicated. Then, he starts feeling wronged—and he starts missing him. He misses him with an intensity that surprises him. 

He’s constantly preoccupied with thoughts of him, his first thought when he gets up is about Sieun, and then his last thought before he sleeps, pouting at his barrage of unread texts, is about Sieun. 

It affects his mood at his workplace. Everyone notices the way he’s a little off, short and snappy where he usually isn’t, broody and quiet where he’s usually the opposite.

Subin comes to apologize to him in the back room as Suho’s shoving his windbreaker back on. She clutches at her cleaning apron as she avoids his eyes, murmuring, “Suho-ya, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”

Suho stares at her, then sighs. “Noona, why are you apologizing? I’m the fool who told everyone but my best friend about my sexuality.”

“But…” she begins, teeth worrying her bottom lip, “but it’s different. You’re in love with him.”

He cringes. 

She meets his eyes with intense panic, and blubbers, “My point is—my point is that it wasn’t my place. I’m sorry.”

Suho walks over and takes her folded apron from her hands, placing it on the shelf as he shakes his head. “It was an honest mistake. It’s okay.”

She relaxes a little as they head out of the room. “I really am sorry.” Then, as she sees him checking his phone with a disquieted expression, she asks, “Is everything… between you and him,”

“Don’t know.” Suho whispers. 

“Oh.” 

He gives her and Hyesung a small wave as he departs, feeling thinned out and a little winded. They let him go, expressions complicated.

He visits Sieun's house the next day, but as he stands in front of the door, hand hovering over the doorbell, he feels a sudden sense of deja vu.

Thinking back to all those years ago—when he'd worriedly stood in front of Sieun's house, persistently knocking and calling out to check if he was okay—he feels awfully strange.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he takes a step back. 

He doesn't want Sieun to misunderstand his clinginess—not now, when he isn't sure why Sieun's avoiding him, especially if it's because of his sexuality. 

For the first time, he doubts himself. 

The walk back home is sobering. 

“Youngyi-ya,” he whines, sprawled across his bedroom floor face-down, “he hates me.”

Youngyi sighs, long-suffering, and pokes at his unmoving head. “Idiot. He doesn’t hate you.”

“He does,” he looks up, threatening to bite at her prodding finger. She reflexively retracts it with a curse. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “Look how much I’ve texted him, not a single reply. He’s left me on read. He doesn’t care if I die.”

She whacks him over the head, clicking her tongue and grabbing his phone. “God, what a loser,” she mutters as she scrolls through his lovelorn texts. “‘Sieun-ah, do you hate me?’ yeesh, ‘Sieun-ah, can you reply, I’m dying’,” Youngyi’s face scrunches up, “‘Sieun-ssi, I can’t st—”

He tries to grab it, but she dodges. He ends up wrestling her on the floor until it’s back in his hands. He cradles it with a distraught expression, hair tousled from Youngyi’s attacks. 

He curls up on his side.

“You’re pathetic, and a loser, why am I here?” she looks at him with disgust. 

“I am,” he whispers. “Youngyi-ya… What should I do?”

She joins him on the floor, lying down and mirroring his foetal position. She pats his hair down as she kindly says, “He isn’t ignoring you because he hates that you’re gay. He’s ignoring you because he’s hurt that you didn’t tell him. And that everyone knew before him. Probably.”

“Did he tell you that?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. You’re just stupid. And he’s a rock trying to cosplay as human.”

He worries his lower lip. “It’s nearly been forty-eight hours. I thought I’d give him time, but I’m going crazy.”

“Then do something about it.” she gets up, shrugging her cardigan back on. 

Suho tries to grab at her ankle, but she artfully maneuvers, then goes to fix her hair in the mirror. He whines pathetically.

“You’re leaving me to die?” 

She opens his room door, then pauses and looks at him expectantly. 

“Get up. We’re getting fried chicken.”

He scrambles up as she exits the room. 

“Coming!”

Hyesung hands him his vape the following night, standing under the eaves of the bar’s backdoor as the rain pelts heavily around them. Suho had briefly stepped outside for a break as Hyesung had finished up his usual call with his long-distance girlfriend. He hangs up as Suho comes to stand beside him, then silently holds it out to him.

He stares at it blankly, then blinks at Hyesung.

Hyesung shrugs. “You really look like you could use it.”

And so, movements wary and unsure, he grabs it and inspects it. 

“You just gotta hold it up, and suck. It’s automatic.”

“Ah.”

As soon as the smoke hits the back of his throat, strawberry-flavoured and deceptively sweet, he chokes on it. He coughs violently as the smoke puffs right back out of his mouth, clutching at his throat, face twisting in pain. Hyesung pats his back, amusement lining the corners of his eyes and mouth. 

“You okay?”

Suho shakes his head, still clutching at his throat as he goes nonverbal, pulling the door open and walking back in. Hyesung watches him go, taking a puff from the vape.

I’m going mad, and it’s all thanks to you, Yeon Sieun, he curses vindictively as he heads behind the counter for water, eyes burning. You hear me? Little punk.

Somewhere far away, Sieun, working diligently on an English passage, scrunches his nose up as he feels a sudden itch.

He covers his nose and mouth with his sweater paw as he sneezes, then blinks down at the test papers in confusion. 

His mom pokes her head through the crack in the door. “Sieun-ah, are you catching a cold?”

“...”

A day later, at his wits’ end from Sieun’s stonewalling, he texts Juntae about Sieun’s hagwon.

When he gets all the information he needs, he finally steels himself and makes his way over.

As he waits by the entrance of the hagwon, he’s reminded of the time he went to pick Sieun up on his delivery bike for a late-night ride, all those years ago. He loses himself in the recollection, remembering how eagerly he was waiting for Sieun to walk out of the entrance—the image of his doe eyes staring up at him is still just as vivid in his mind. It tugs at his heart, the feeling clumsy and sticky like taffy. 

Suddenly, the force of how much he misses Sieun hits him like a truck.

He’s left breathless and impatient as he stands there in the wintery cold of the night, stretching out his arms and legs restlessly.

Just then, people start slowly shuffling out one by one.

He strains his neck, eyes searching for him. 

A few people give him curious looks as they walk past him. He stands bang in the middle, a few feet away from the entrance, not wanting to give Sieun even the tiniest chance to slip away. 

When Sieun finally walks out, he raises his tired gaze as he exits the building, only to land right on Suho.

His eyes widen.

Then, his expression flutters shut, and he immediately turns and starts walking down the sidewalk.

Suho gapes, then calls, "Sieun-ah, wait,"

More heads turn in curiosity, never having seen the infamous Yeon Sieun interact with anyone or anything prior. 

Suho shoulders past the crowd, trying not to lose Sieun as he increases pace. 

"Yeon Sieun, are you really going to be like this?!" 

He sees Sieun's fist clench against his side as he tries to get his attention, to no avail. 

He trails right behind him until the crowd of students eventually thins, and they're walking down a relatively small, empty side-road. 

As he follows Sieun, he starts lamenting.

“Sieun-ssi, I was born like this.” he gestures down at himself, “I can’t help my sexuality. Are you seriously throwing away two years—or nine months—or two years and five months of friendship because of this? I can’t believe you, really,” he rambles, kicking a pebble poutily towards Sieun’s feet. 

Sieun suddenly rounds on him. 

Suho stops, the suddenness sending him stumbling half a step back. “Whoa—”

“It’s—not. Because. Of that.” He grits his teeth. His fists curl by his side. 

Suho blinks, then relief floods through him. Then, just as quickly, confusion. 

“What the hell is up your butt, then?”

Sieun glares. 

“Ah—that’s not what I—”

Sieun turns around and starts stalking away again. Suho tilts his head back and groans, before taking off into a jog. “Sieun-ah, wait—”

Sieun starts power-walking, steadfast.

“I swear, I meant to tell you—I really did,” Suho pants as he tries to catch up, “Sieun-ah, I’m sorry.”

He goes to stand in front of him, blocking his way with an outstretched arm that then latches onto the sleeve near his elbow. Sieun finally comes to a halt. He refuses to look at him.

Suho continues, voice anguished, “I’m sorry, okay? I just—I thought, I didn’t want you to—”

Sieun finally sighs, tired and put-upon. “It’s not that, either.”

Suho blinks again. “It’s not? Then—then what is it?”

Sieun frowns at him, lips pursed together. When he tries to shrug his elbow out of Suho’s grip, Suho tightens it. “Tell me, quick.” he says, impatient.

Sieun looks away, ears turning red. He looks away for a long time, and they remain in a silent standstill, Suho's grip incrementally tightening on the fabric of Sieun’s hoodie, tightening until his knuckles are white, and the tips of his fingers are red with strain.

Sieun’s next words come out slow and forced: 

“Aren’t you… Are you seeing somebody?”

A pause.

Suho feels himself slowly losing his grip on reality. It slips and slides out of his fingers as his vision unfocuses. His grip on Sieun’s elbow unintentionally loosens, and Sieun takes the opportunity to wrench his elbow away. He adjusts his hoodie where it’s slipped lopsidedly on his arm, and pulls his bag further up on his shoulder. 

“What?” Suho whispers, blank and buffering. 

Sieun takes his absolute shock as proof, then looks down at his feet in resignation.

He shoulders past him, leaving with an unearned petulance, while Suho’s left to catch up. Out of everything that he’d speculated Sieun could possibly be angry about, not even in his wildest dreams could he have come up with his current predicament. Yeon Sieun is mad that… Ha, what?

He stares into the distance.

“...What?”

He finally registers that Sieun’s not in front of him anymore, and suddenly turns around, gaze frantic as he tries to look for him.

He spots Sieun’s hunched figure, walking down the narrow road into an alleyway. He jogs to catch up again, and this time, when he does, he stares at Sieun’s back in silence. 

He follows him wordlessly, until the alleyway breaks out into a fork—one small road leads to a path that takes them towards the river, the other into the main road. He grabs Sieun by his scruff as he begins to head towards the main road, and pulls him into the smaller road instead. 

Sieun half-heartedly resists, murmuring, “What are you doing?”

Suho narrows his eyes at him as he pulls him along by his hood. “Kidnapping you.”

Sieun rolls his eyes. 

When they’ve walked enough, and Suho’s thoughts feel a little less dizzying, he stops in his tracks. They’re under a flickering streetlamp, gravel crunching under their feet as they come to a halt. Sieun stares up at him, indolent and slightly apprehensive. 

Suho, “Let me get this straight,” he laughs disbelievingly, “you ignored me for four gruesome days because you were mad that I didn’t tell you that I was seeing someone?”

Sieun looks at him, then sighs, as if having given up. “I guess. More or less.”

“More or—Sieun-ah,” his laugh has a manic edge to it now, “I’m not seeing anyone. Are you serious?”

Sieun stares at him in confusion, then his features pinch into a frown. 

“You are.”

“No—I’m not?”

“That guy.” he mumbles, avoiding Suho’s gaze. “From the bar.”

Suho nearly starts crying. “What guy—Hyesung hyung? You’re talking about Hyesung hyung?”

Sieun nods. 

“I’m going to kill you—no, I’m going to kill myself. Sieun-ah,” he grabs him by his shoulders, and Sieun stiffens like a board. “I’m not seeing him. He has a girlfriend.”

“But—”

“Were you… Jealous?” 

Suho’s mouth goes dry as he belatedly realizes. He tightens his grip on Sieun’s shoulders.

Sieun’s eyes go wide with panic. He wriggles out of Suho’s grip, then backs up into the lamp-post. The pole is left shaking with the impact, and the lightbulb flickers in shock.

“Are you crazy?” Sieun whispers, breath heavy, gaze lowered. 

Suho feels reality slip between his fingers again. His world tilts—by a degree, then two, then three. He looks at Yeon Sieun’s shifty, guilty expression, and it tilts by another degree. He sees his flushed neck, and his painfully red ears, and it tilts by another degree. He sees his shuffling feet, and his fists that curl nervously around the hem of his hoodie—another degree. 

Before he knows it, he’s staring and blinking at Yeon Sieun with an intensity that rivals the flickering lamppost, head tilted to the side like a dog that’s been alerted by a strange noise. He feels ridiculous. Slowly, he finds that he’s in a ridiculous situation, so he starts laughing.

Before he knows it, he's bowled over laughing. 

All the while, Sieun’s staring at him like he’s grown a second head. 

On the tail end of his bout of laughter, he thinks, Yeon Sieun is jealous. 

His laughter fades.

Jealous. 

He looks at Sieun, and meets his eyes. 

“Sieun-ah,” his eyes clear, and his gaze turns serious. He takes a step towards Sieun.

He sees him swallow.

“Sieun-ah,” he repeats, and takes another step.

Sieun cringes as he comes closer, then meekly whines, “What?” as he looks off to the side. It's uncharacteristic, and it nearly sends Suho's head spinning.

He’s whining. 

Suho’s hand unconsciously lifts up in an effort to squish Sieun's cheeks, then he pauses in the middle. Sieun looks at his hovering hand, then makes an aggrieved, sulking expression at it, before sighing and shoving past him again. 

“What? What is it now?”

Suho finds himself trailing after him again. 

They keep walking, Sieun whipping his phone out to send a text to his mom partway through.

Suho takes time to let it sink in—the concept of Yeon Sieun feeling jealous. Jealous enough to avoid Suho. He wonders what it means, as he stares at Sieun’s back. He feels a tiny spark of hope flaring in his gut, and it sends his heart into an excited flutter. He tamps down on it. 

He wonders if Yeon Sieun himself knows or understands what he’s feeling.

Suho doesn’t know if jealousy is usually part of close friendships. He’s possessive over Sieun sometimes, sure, but doesn’t think of himself as a jealous person. 

He’d felt a tiny smidgeon of jealousy at times when he’d seen that Sieun had made close friends other than him, but his relief had eclipsed that feeling most of the time. Relief, that Sieun had people to protect him—envy, at times, that it wasn’t him, and childish jealousy when he’d have to share his time with other people. But those feelings were never quite strong enough to act on. Rather, he’d always just wanted Sieun to be happy, and stop having to fight for himself, and for the right to exist. Waking up after his coma, all he could think was, what a relief. 

What a relief that Sieun wasn’t left all alone to fend for himself during difficult times. 

What a relief that he had people who looked after him, and told him that it wasn’t his fault.

What a relief that if he hadn’t made it, hadn’t managed to wake up, Sieun would have had people around him to know him, and care for him.

Feeling his eyes unexpectedly well up with tears, he blinks them away. Soon, the road begins to edge closer to the river, and the view opens up. He sees the still waters of Hangang shift in increments, currents traveling through and creating inky blots over its surface. 

The sun had decided to set without much pomp or gusto, leaving not a trace of its usual kaleidoscope of orange-red-pinks, and so the sky settles into a muted grey. The cityscape reflects the gloom of the late evening, buildings clouded in a similarly heavy dullness. 

He looks back to Sieun at his side, and sees his gaze on him. He smiles. “Do you remember the first time I came to pick you up at your hagwon?” 

Sieun nods, then trails his eyes away. Some of the heaviness eases from his frame. 

“I was thinking about it as I was waiting for you earlier. I miss that delivery bike.” 

Sieun doesn't say anything for a long while afterwards, eyes clouding as he loses himself in recollection.

After walking for a good twenty-ish minutes, they finally end up near the river. They approach the giant, tiered steps that offer a view of the peaceful waters of Hangang, and they sit down on them and stare out into the distant horizon into the cityscape. The steps are empty but for a lone cyclist catching a breather in a corner. 

The two sit with a certain distance between them, enveloped in silence, until:

“Back then, why did you do that?”

Suho’s gaze flits up to Sieun. He studies the side of his face in silence. Somehow, he understands. 

He sinks into thought and looks back out into the river as evening begins to fade into night. The city’s lights blink awake one at a time, flickering to life and creating reflective imprints on river currents that make them dance. A chilling early-winter breeze brushes past, raising the hair on his arms. 

The answer is difficult for him to parse through.

Why did he do that, all those years ago? Why did he go to such lengths to protect and avenge his first true friend?

When he was walking into that ring, he had no idea of the fate that lay ahead of him. He’d never imagined that he’d have to sacrifice two years of his life. And yet, in retrospect, he feels no remorse or sorrow towards his past self for not knowing, nor does he feel regret, nor self-pity. Because even if he’d known, perhaps he’d have made the same decision to walk into the ring.

If his past self were to turn his gaze upon him, standing by the entrance of that ring, he’d see nothing but cold, icy rage in his eyes. 

The only regret he’d feel in his heart would be leaving Halmeoni and Sieun all by themselves.

So he decides to be honest, as he brings himself out of his reflections. His eyes flicker up to look past the tall buildings in the distance, into the inky blue horizon. He finds familiar waters swirling there, threatening to envelop the cityscape. As memories of Beomseok, Wooyoung and Sieun's broken arm all linger in the back of his head, he murmurs: 

“They hurt you.”

He remembers Sieun's pained eyes staring up at him in withdrawn, reticent silence as he hid his arm behind his back.

He turns his gaze back on Sieun as his eyes grow sharp, his anger swelling like the raging tide of a merciless tsunami. His voice cuts dangerously as he mumbles:

“They laid their hands on you.”

Sieun swallows, eyes widening as he meets that icy gaze, and gets a glimpse of those roiling currents stirring underneath.

“That’s why I did it.”

Sieun stares at him, then breaks his gaze away as if the intensity in Suho's eyes is too much to bear. He sees him swallow again, inhale deeply, then exhale through his mouth in a shaky sigh.

Suho tries to calm himself down as the memories of the past threaten to sweep him away. 

“Sieun-ah,” he murmurs, looking away, “as long as I'm alive, if anyone dares to lay their hands on you again, I'll kill them.” 

When he gets no response, he slowly stands up, feeling the need to walk off his jittery emotions. They leave him feeling unstable, and the sudden vulnerability sends him off-kilter. 

As he takes a step forward, the tsunami in his mind casts an overhead shadow as it threatens to drown him. 

It's as his back is turned to Sieun that he suddenly feels a tug at the back of his windbreaker. He twists his head to see Sieun standing there, hand clutching at the fabric of the jacket. 

Time comes to a slow halt. 

“Suho-ya,” he mumbles, eyes trained low. 

Suho turns, and the hand falls away. 

“Hm?” 

“I…” 

Sieun shuffles in a moment of hesitation, hands fisting as he grabs the hems of his hoodie, and tugs. Suho's heart lurches.

Then suddenly, Suho's impacted—Sieun launches himself at him. He twines his arms tight around Suho's waist, face nestling under his chin, cheek resting on his collarbone. He hugs with an intensity unparalleled, and Suho is left quite literally breathless as his own arms come to rest on Sieun's back, eyes widening. 

Sieun presses closer, and Suho trails a hand down his back. The raging waters recede.

The sudden contact sets him on fire, instead, as if suddenly tossed right into the maw of a blazing volcano. The heat from Sieun's body is heady, nearly overstimulating as he runs his hand down his spine. 

He's taken back to the morning he woke up tangled with Sieun, feeling his body heat engulfing him, and the same breath fluttering light and soft on the bare skin of his collarbone.

He tightens his grip, his other hand caressing the back of Sieun’s head, folding his fingers into soft, silken strands. His hair carries the distinct scent of baby shampoo. Suho buries his nose in it, inhales deeply as Sieun clings and refuses to let go.

“Don't go,” Sieun mumbles after a while, breath fanning across Suho's skin. 

Suho pats at his hair. 

Sieun buries his head further into Suho's chest, cheek squishing against his shirt, nose hidden under the lapel of Suho's windbreaker. 

Then, vulnerable and hushed, he whispers:

“I missed you.” 

Suho's breath catches, and his heart swells—it beats unbearably loud against the cavity of his chest. He wonders if Sieun can hear its desperate call as his world reorients itself. The only other time he’s heard those words come out of Sieun’s mouth was the day that they reunited. 

He runs his hand down his neck, slow and deliberate. 

Then, “How much?” 

Sieun stiffens.

The words are out before he can restrain himself—he finds that he can't get enough of Sieun's quiet, hesitant admissions of affection. 

Suho grips the back of his neck, tries to massage away the sudden tenseness, thumb rubbing under his ear, fingers working to undo knots as he kneads at overheated skin. It makes Sieun shiver. He can't resist, so he finds himself desperately repeating, “How much did you miss me, Sieun-ah?” 

For a long moment, it feels like Sieun isn't going to answer. Then,  

“A lot,” Sieun whispers, nearly inaudible. 

Suho's breath stutters. He nudges his cheek against the top of his head. 

“Did you think about me?” he murmurs intimately, honey dripping from his voice and melting into Sieun’s ears. 

Sieun shivers. He nods shakily.

“What did you think about?”

“Just…”

A pause. Then,

“Just?”

Sieun presses closer to Suho, as if trying to melt into him. His hands fist into the back of Suho’s windbreaker, clutching heavily, pulling and kneading. His breath flutters as he inhales, long and deep. 

Suho feels every little movement viscerally—every twitch, every little sigh, the tremor of his muscles as his forearms squeeze tight over Suho's waist. Sieun's hair brushes against his cheek, tickles his ear in little butterfly kisses. They've never been as entangled as they are at that moment, and it's nearly intoxicating. The world quiets down to just the two of them, sharing warmth in the dark of the night. Suho feels Sieun's frantic pulse throb against his fingers that are gripping the side of his neck, then feels the tendons shift, and feels his chest inhale deeply again. 

Then,

“...Whether you’re okay.” comes the muted whisper.

Suho lets out a small huff. “That’s all?”

Sieun protests by pulling at his windbreaker. 

But Suho persists, holding him tighter and slipping his fingers back into his hair. “Hm?”

He stays silent for a long moment. Then, after steeling himself, 

“Whether you’re taking your meds.” Sieun mumbles, his grip tightening incrementally on his jacket, “whether you’re… if you’re doing your physiotherapy exercises.”

Suho’s heart pushes excitedly against his ribcage. “And?”

“If you’re eating well, and sleeping well.” he finishes, breathing unevenly.

Suho finally pulls Sieun’s face away, stares helplessly into those eyes that are wide with vulnerability and trepidation. 

He breaks out into a soft grin. “Looks like Sieunie thought about me a lot.”

He traces the tip of a reddened ear with his fingers, his other hand holding the side of Sieun’s neck in place. “That’s good to know,” he murmurs. Sieun half-heartedly tries to pull his head away from Suho’s adventurous fingers as they rub his ear. 

Then, he teases, mouth twisting into a cocky smirk, “Since I didn’t think about you at all.”

He immediately gets a fist to the side. “Ow,” he bends over melodramatically, letting go of Sieun’s face to clutch at the side of his waist. “Sieun-ah, so cruel,”

Sieun glares at the top of his head, murmuring, “Asshole.”

His fist curls up again, ready to kitten-punch, but Suho spots it before it can move—he takes that curled fist in his hand, brings it up to his mouth and plants a kiss against it as he straightens. 

“What are you—” 

“I'm just joking. I was going crazy.” Suho pulls Sieun’s fist open, uncurls his fingers, only to tangle them with his and pull Sieun along as he begins to walk back home. “I couldn't think of anything else other than you. Come,” 

The streetlights cast a warm glow over their heads, and the damp smell of the river drifts past them, the quiet of the night only interrupted by the drag of their feet against the gravel.

Sieun stumbles forward, hand firmly entangled with Suho’s.

As Sieun stares blankly at their clasped hands, Suho starts swinging his arm, smiling fondly back at a disgruntled, breathless Sieun as he’s pulled to Suho’s side.

“Missed you too, Sieun-ah.”

As they walk hand-in-hand: 

“Sieun-ah, seriously though—if you ignore me like that ever again, I'll tuck myself right back into that hospital bed and hold my breath.” 

Suho expects a glare, an exasperatedly muttered, ‘idiot’, or ‘fool’.

Instead, Sieun pulls them to a stop, feet planting firm into the gravel. 

When Suho looks back in confusion, he's met with a wet, doe-eyed stare, guilt wracked through the lines of Sieun's face. 

He looks straight into Suho's eyes, and murmurs, “I'll be better. Sorry.” 

Suho nearly faints. 

Chapter Text

“Halmeoni, you think I can go to college?” 

The question is posed with an air of deliberate nonchalance. Suho tries not to cringe as he hears the click-clack of Halmeoni’s knitting needles come to a slow, stumbling halt. 

When the reply doesn’t come, Suho turns his head from where he’s lying on the cold living room floor to peer behind him. 

When he sees the look in Halmeoni’s eyes, his breath catches on an inhale. 

“Little one,” the corners of her eyes are clouded with an unexpected hope, “you want to go to college?”

Suho clears his throat and looks away, trying to adopt a casual, ankle-resting-on-knee, head-resting-on-forearm stance. “Well, yeah, been thinking about it.”

He worries his lower lip. “But…

“I don’t know. Maybe after a few years of working. I still don’t know what I would want to study, and if I’d even be able to afford it.”

Halmeoni sighs, the exhale trembles on its tail-end.

“How nice it would be…”

She trails off. 

Suho swallows the bitter taste of lack, and hums in easy-going agreeance.

When Halmeoni begins knitting again, the rhythm isn’t quite right.

He doesn’t linger in those feelings, instead begins to watch videos on YouTube about how to save up for college, various available scholarships, how to manage working then continuing higher education. 

He wonders what his future has in store for him, and decides to look forward to it.

He decides not to hastily scratch the possibility away completely, just yet.

One evening, Suho’s making conversation with one of the regular tables at the restobar, chatting up three college-aged girls after they enquire about one of the special dishes on the menu. They seem reluctant to let him go, bringing up random talking points as he grins and nods charmingly.

“—Ah, and this just ended up being one of our regular spots when we stumbled across it a couple months ago,” one of them says, “but now Yuna insists on coming here for another reason, isn’t that right, Yuna?” she winks at a shy-looking girl sitting opposite her at the table.

As the shy girl swats and makes a hushing motion at her friend, Suho gets distracted by the door swinging open. He brightens when he sees Sieun waddling in, dressed up in thick padding, a woolly scarf, and earmuffs. 

The lower half of his face is swallowed by the scarf, and the earmuffs make him look extra fluffy as his eyes scan the room. When they meet Suho’s, a mitten-covered hand raises in a wave. Suho snorts, endlessly fond, and returns the little wave. 

He turns back to the table, where the girls are still excitedly chattering at him.

“Excuse me, ladies,”

He confirms their order once more, and quickly stalks over to the kitchen to convey it. He's too distracted to notice their expressions drop as they belatedly try to get his attention again. They're too late—he's gone in a flash. 

When he comes back out, he sees Sieun sitting at his regular corner table by the glass window, clumsily removing his mittens. 

He makes his way over excitedly, but he’s interrupted by one of the other tables calling for his attention. Like this, he flits around for the next forty minutes, until it’s near closing time, and only a few tables remain occupied, one of them being the table with the chatty college girls. They keep shooting him covert looks that go completely, unwittingly ignored.

“Sieun-ah,” he approaches once he’s finally free from work, cracking his neck and then grinning, “sorry, meant to come say hi earlier.”

Sieun shakes his head, then looks at him hesitantly. 

Suho raises a brow. 

“What is it?”

“Suho-ya,” Sieun gets up, then shuffles towards him from the booth. 

Suho blinks, then steps closer towards him. Sieun’s removed his winter gear now, standing in his hoodie and dark blue jeans. He starts fidgeting with the phone in his hand. 

They meet halfway, and Suho smiles indulgently. “Yeah?” 

Sieun's doe eyes peer at him. Suho ignores his heart doing a flip-flop.

“I… I got in,”

“Eh?”

A pause. 

“To university.”

Suho’s breath catches.

He watches as Sieun opens his phone, biting his lower lip. 

Then he hands it over to Suho, who snatches it eagerly, reading thoroughly. “Sieun-ah, this is… Isn’t this…”

Heart beating wildly against his chest, Suho looks back up at Sieun, who has a little sparkle in his eyes. 

“Are you serious?”

Sieun nods. 

He looks back down. It says Seoul National University.

He looks up, breathless, a brilliant grin slowly taking over his face.

“Yeon Sieun,” he breathes, then—with a bright burst of energy that startles the entire restobar—he immediately picks Sieun up into an airborne hug, arms wrapping tight around his waist. He hears Sieun gasp as he laughs in glee, squeezing tight and twirling him around once, then twice, his excited grin splitting his face in two. “You little bastard!” 

Sieun squirms as he places him back down, warm contentness on his face.

“Congratulations! Ah shit, why didn’t you tell me earlier, huh?!” 

He grabs Sieun by his shoulders, then pulls him into another tight hug. “You were busy,” Sieun replies, words muffled into Suho’s shoulder. 

“Fuck that,” Suho gives him another tight squeeze, then pulls back to squish his cheeks with his palms. Sieun lets him squish and then pull, docile in his embrace, arms loosely wrapped around Suho’s waist. 

“You're a genius, aren't you?” He unexpectedly chokes. “Fuck, I'm so proud of you, ah,”

The corners of Sieun's mouth tilt up as Suho wipes at a stray tear, clearing his throat.

“Anyway, we're celebrating,” Suho declares, patting Sieun's cheek carelessly. 

“Celebrating what?” A voice sounds from behind Suho. He startles, then whips his head around. Inhye's leaning against a table, a curiously amused expression on her face. Hyesung and Subin peer with just as much curiosity from a distance. Suho looks around to see most of the remaining customers also stealing glances at them. 

“Ah,” 

Suho turns back to look at Sieun, who hasn't taken his eyes off him. 

He pulls him in front, then announces to Inhye, “Our Sieun got into university!”

When he shoves the phone into her hands, she pauses, then gasps. 

The college girls watch the commotion from a distance in rapt silence. 

They watch as Suho backhugs his friend, wrapping his arms tight around him and swaying side to side as the other bar staff affectionately pat his shoulders and hop around, congratulating him. Suho then whips his phone out and seemingly video calls someone, shoving his friend's face into the frame with a palm to the side of his face, squishing his cheek. 

They watch, as his friend turns and looks at him with a small, fond smile on his face, stars in his eyes.

“Yuna-ya,” one of them whispers, unable to tear her eyes off them, “let’s give up this time.”

“Yeon Sieun!”

It’s Baku’s unmistakable, booming voice that rings out into the busy restobar the next evening. 

He stomps his way over belligerently, full of loud, teasing petulance, “Yeon Sieun, you think you’re better than us normies now? Huh?” 

He grabs a seated Yeon Sieun and puts him in a chokehold, ruffling his hair with his knuckles. “You top dog. You big shot!” 

“Park Humin, we’re in a public space. Quit causing a scene, will you?” Hyuntak bumps him over the head as he and Juntae reach the table. “Sieun-ah, congratulations again!”

Juntae happily gives him a hug as Sieun stands up and escapes from Baku’s bullying. Baku spots Suho by the bar and waves enthusiastically, looking around the restobar and ‘wah’-ing. “So this is Suho’s workplace, eh?”

Sieun lets himself be hugged and patted on the back by Hyuntak, then murmurs, “Sit.”

His friends gather around, noisily pulling out the chairs. 

When Suho finally struts over, he announces, “Guys, boss’s treat!”

He gestures at Inhye, sitting a few tables away. They gape, then Baku gets up to bow enthusiastically. “Thanks!”

Inhye just smiles and waves her hand dismissively. “Congratulations,” she mouths at a flustered Sieun, and Sieun bows his head deeply in gratitude. 

After setting the food down, Suho plonks the soju bottles against the table unceremoniously. As he opens the first bottle, he sees Sieun biting his lower lip in hesitation. “The boss insisted. Sieun-ah, you don’t have to.”

He does anyway, Suho discovers, after he finishes up with some backroom work and finally heads out to join them at Inhye’s insistence. Subin practically pushes him out, shooing him away with her duster and closing the door on him. 

When he gets to the table, Sieun looks up at him with a pinkened face and starry eyes. 

“Sieun-ah,” he laughs as he settles down on the side adjacent to him, pulling up a chair, “did you have a shot?”

Sieun nods. “Two.”

He huffs, fond. 

Sieun ends up a lot drunker than Suho had anticipated. He sweetens, too, under the continuous outpouring of affection from his friends. 

Everyone gets drunk and starts doting on him. Suho gorges on his food, mostly, and watches as they shower Sieun in praise and tease him until he's pink in the face. 

Somehow, he ends up gravitating closer and closer to Suho, until their knees are pressed tight against each other under the table, and Sieun is leaning across the corner to lay his tired head on Suho's upper arm. 

As usual, Suho tries not to be hyper-aware of his touch. 

He fails miserably.

When Suho catches a flake of white falling outside from the corner of his eye, he dismisses it as dust, at first. 

But moments later, when he catches another, then some more, he abruptly stands up. The movement pushes Sieun's head away suddenly, and Sieun is startled to attention. “Suho-ya?” he says, looking up in confusion. 

“Snow,” he murmurs, then points to the window. “It's snowing!” 

Everyone follows his finger, then they gasp as realization hits. 

Through the slightly fogged-up glass windows, wiped a little hastily, they see the bright flakes of white fall in placid waves. 

“The first snow,” Juntae breathes, then excitedly jumps up. 

Suho walks, then jogs to the door, pushing past the occupied tables in a daze. The group follows behind him as he pushes it open and steps outside.   

The snow begins to fall in a light flurry from the depths of a midnight sky. 

Suho finally looks back and pulls a tipsy, red-nosed, glassy-eyed Sieun by his hands past the threshold, out into the street. “Sieun-ah, it's the first snow!” 

Suho holds out his hand and tries to catch the snowflakes as they fall. 

“Mm,” Sieun doesn't appear to be too interested in the snow. He stares at Suho instead, even as the snow gets caught in his hair, and on his shoulders. They stand there as the snowflakes melt into their flushed skin, the excited chatter of their friends drowned out in the background. It’s bitingly cold, Suho realizes, as a full-body shiver wracks through him. 

Sieun’s face gets redder, and redder. Suho grins down at Sieun’s zoned out face, and wonders what he's thinking about in his little semi-drunken stupor. 

The thoughts slowly fade into white noise as Sieun steps closer, and closer, then raises a shaky, icy-cold hand to grip at the side of Suho's face. 

“Suho-ya,” he murmurs, warm and slow, “you're cute,” 

Before Suho can manage a response, Sieun plops his head against his chest, and nuzzles in. “I’m cold.” 

Suho wraps his arms around Sieun wordlessly. 

In the end, all he can do is murmur, “Sieun-ah, congratulations again,” as he desperately tries to warm him up.

If their friends covertly sneak a few pictures of the happy couple, no one mentions it. 

The group spends some more time together at the bar, until the conversations dim to muted whispers and drawling murmurs. The alcohol eventually begins to hit Sieun harder, and he starts getting moody and drowsy towards the end of the gathering. 

When their friends begin to wrap things up, Sieun’s suddenly in an awfully whiny mood, and Suho can’t quite figure out why. He sits opposite him and blinks in confusion when Sieun glares at him.

When Suho tilts his head in inquiry, Sieun just averts his gaze and bites his lip.

When it's time to drop Sieun home, Suho calls a cab. 

They stumble in after bidding goodbye to their friends, all of them wrapped tight in their warm winter clothes. 

Sieun nuzzles up to him immediately after the cab door slams shut, mumbling and whining about something incoherently. Suho can’t really hear, his head goes a little blank—he can’t tell if it’s brain-freeze from standing in the cold earlier, or if it’s Sieun’s warm touch that’s somehow exacerbating an odd case of hypothermia. They sit in the middle of the cab, huddled together for warmth, even though the cab’s heating is on. Suho feels Sieun’s body heat through their thick clothes. His thigh presses against Suho’s, arms looped together as Sieun lays his head against Suho’s shoulder.

Like that, Sieun falls asleep.

He comes to realize that Sieun’s a sleepy, affectionate, moody drunk. 

The cab is quiet but for the low buzz of some late-night radio playing in the background, at a volume that’s nearly incomprehensible. Suho leans his head back against the headrest and watches the scenery go by, wondering what Sieun’s life will look like once he’s in university.

A small smile creeps onto his face.

Sieun is losing his baby fat as the days go by, too—traces of seventeen year old Yeon Sieun are nearly gone. 

Suho feels his chest stir at the thought. In excitement, in an odd mix of melancholy and nostalgia for what could have been but never was. He feels like he barely got to have that baby-cheeked, seventeen year old Sieun before he began to slip away through his fingers.

Restless, he presses closer and closes his eyes against the white noise.

They stumble into the empty foyer, the automatic entranceway light flickering on in the dimly lit house.

They toe off their shoes. Sieun stumbles to keep balance, hand against the wall, struggling to remove his other shoe. Suho reaches out to hold him, maneuvers him until he's leaning against the wall. Suho takes his hands, places them on his shoulders to help keep him steady, then squats down to remove the remaining shoe for him, laughter lining his amused face. When Suho looks up, dropping it against the floor, Sieun's staring down at him, an odd glint in his eyes. 

"Sieun-ah," Suho says, "why did you drink so much?" He rises and pats Sieun on the back. "You'll get a bad hangover tomorrow,”

He grabs Sieun's arm, hooking it over his shoulder, and starts leading him down the hallway, arm around his waist.

Suddenly, as they're passing by the living room, Sieun stops and sways. 

"Sieun-ah?" 

"Ahn Suho," he slurs, suddenly turning in his hold, coming to stand in front of him, Suho's arm still around his waist. Suho's pulse kicks up subconsciously. Sieun looks at him for a while, with his wide, watery eyes, deep and defiant. He looks like he's pouting. 

Suho has to resist petting him with his entire being. 

"Sieun-ah, what happened?”

Sieun looks at him, clicks his tongue, then falls towards him and buries the side of his head right in Suho's chest, rubbing against it like a cat. 

Suho feels the threads of his sanity unravelling—he starts wondering how he's going to make it through the rest of his life without going insane and ending up in an asylum, if it's going to be this torturous, unbearable to accept Sieun’s affection forever. 

Sieun hums and then—seemingly on some personal mission—he leans back, then grabs Suho's other arm, hanging limp at his side. Sieun grips his forearm with both his hands, lifting it up, bowing his head and nearly stumbling when he fails to keep his balance. "Sieun-ah, what are you doing?" Suho blurts, a few seconds too late.

Sieun regains balance and finally places Suho's hand on his head, mumbles, "Pet me," and Suho thinks maybe he's becoming hard of hearing, when, "Ahn Suho," a low whine, "pet me," 

What?

"Sieun-ah," Suho feels his heart splinter. His throat is so dry that he barely rasps his next few words. "I don't think—"

Sieun suddenly lifts his head, shoves Suho's hand off him, and turns and stumbles his way over to the living room couch, but he loses his balance again before he can get there, and Suho immediately goes to catch him, tries to steady him. Sieun makes a whiny sound, trying to escape from his grip. 

"Sieun-ah, why are you suddenly being like this?” Sieun resists. “Stop moving, you'll fall." 

"Go die," Yeon Sieun says, angry. 

It’s so unexpected that Suho laughs, fond and vaguely amused despite his internal turmoil and confusion. The only questions in his mind are, is Yeon Sieun crazy? and, fucking hell, did he just ask me to pet him? Suho feels like he's falling apart at the seams.

"Sieun-ah, you really want me to die?" Sieun nods, defiant, the movement exaggerated and stilted, but passionate through his drunkenness. Suho feels another fond pang in his chest. "Really? Sieunie's going to tell someone who spent two years in a coma for him to go die?" 

At that, Sieun suddenly stops resisting. Suho doesn't even have time to breathe a sigh of relief before Sieun launches himself, his body impacting Suho’s. Sieun's hands come up to hold his face and clumsily caress it. By the time Suho registers anything, Sieun’s eyes are a little wet, expression panicked, "You can't die, Ahn Suho," a hiccup, "I'll kill you if you die."

Suho panics. 

"I won't die, I won't die. Sieun-ah, I was just joking, don't cry," 

Sieun whimpers, trying to catch his breath. Suho feels like his last thread might snap soon if he doesn't get Yeon Sieun into bed this instant, but an achingly big part of him selfishly wants to keep him awake, savour how cute and moody and openly affection-starved he is when drunk. 

He isn’t quite sure why he feels like such a filthy voyeur about it. He distantly wonders if he has a few screws loose.

Suho doesn't want anyone else to see this Yeon Sieun, either. He's possessive beyond measure, and he selfishly wishes he could greedily have this drunk Sieun as his alone, and he wants to dunk his head—no, his entire body—in ice-cold water for it. He feels his thoughts spiral, bordering on hysteria whilst he tries to get a grip on his faltering senses.

Sieun wipes at his own eyes, and Suho wishes he could've done it for him.

Suho brings up a hand to grip softly at his hip, the other clamped firmly on his shoulder, steadying him where he sways. 

Sieun, "I want Ahn Suho,"

Suho pauses.

Then, frantic, "Sieun-ah, I'm right here," 

"I want Ahn Suho," 

“Sieun-ah,” Suho’s desperate now, “don’t you see me? I’m right here,” 

“Oh,” Sieun’s confused little murmur, and his equally as confused blinking makes the corners of Suho’s mouth twitch. Yeon Sieun, you really can’t handle your alcohol at all, can you?

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

On their way to the bedroom, Sieun murmurs, “Suho-ya, are you proud of me?”

Suho nearly loses his footing. Then, “Of—Of course,”

Sieun stumbles again, and Suho steadies him against the wall next to his bedroom door. “I’ll get a good job,” Sieun slurs, eyes unfocused. 

“Yeah?” Suho pats Sieun’s hair out of his eyes, a little uncomprehending. 

Sieun nods, sinking into the wall for balance. 

“Hate drinking,” Sieun whispers. 

Suho lets out a little laugh, and Sieun’s hand clumsily comes up to cover Suho’s mouth. When he blinks at Sieun, he whispers, “Mom,” 

Suho nods slowly. Sieun’s hand falls away as Suho asks in a whisper, “Why did you drink, then?”

Sieun looks unbearably cute, in the dim light coming from the living room, crowded against the wall and clutching at Suho’s padding for dear life. The skin around his eyes is flushed a delicate reddish pink, visible even in the low light. His lips are dry and licked red from the biting cold, and he breathes heavily in the little space between them, his heart racing from the alcohol. He averts his eyes, fingers twisting in the padding, biting his lower lip again. 

Instead of answering Suho, he mumbles, “I miss you,” soft and low, listless.

It knocks the air out of Suho’s chest. 

“I’m right here, though,” he mumbles, helplessly. He raises his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Sieun’s ear, caressing the lobe and lowering to cup his jaw. His hand is jittery, he realizes, as his cold fingers meet warm, soft skin. 

Sieun tenderly nudges against it, eyes fluttering shut.

Suho’s pulse begins to rise, blood slowly begins to rush to his head.

They’re awfully close. 

Without realizing it, Suho had closed the remaining distance between them, now a hair’s breadth apart. The padding is squished between them, Suho’s foot nudged in the space between Sieun’s legs, an arm loosely gripping at Sieun’s hip.

Suho feels his defenses slowly crumble. His mind stops racing, all of a sudden, the thoughts fading away into a din that gets smothered by the low light of the house, the sleepiness that drafts through the thin air—

Sieun rubs his cheek against Suho’s hand again, tilting his face into his palm. He’s so warm that Suho can’t help but be tethered to it. 

He rubs his thumb over the delicate skin under Sieun’s eye, and Sieun’s eyes flutter open again. They raise to meet Suho’s. His gaze is endlessly deep, so deep and yet so open that Suho wants to drown in it, lose himself in it. 

His hand traces Sieun’s jaw, lowering until his thumb is on Sieun’s chin. He presses into the divot below Sieun’s lower lip, then pushes up, breath caught in his chest. 

His thumb folds over Sieun’s plush, soft mouth. He feels Sieun’s breath catch, feels his hands tighten their grip on his padding and pull, ever so slightly. His lids flutter again on an exhale, as he begins to tilt his head upwards into Suho’s touch. 

"Sieun-ah," the heat is dizzying, thinning out his voice, "don't," 

But when his thumb presses in deeper, Sieun's head tilts further. His chest heaves, up and down. Suho’s breathing is equally as fraught. A singular drop of sweat drips past his temple.

In the dim light, more shadow than solid form, with Sieun’s damp breath against his thumb, his warm mouth has an enticing, magnetic, primordial pull. Suho’s gut roils in that dizzying heat, his head filling with liquid lava. His thumb presses in deeper, closer—

A sudden, loud car horn breaks him right out of that spell.

He gasps, then immediately springs away, ripping himself out of that pull.

He tries to reorient his senses as he breathlessly pushes air into his burning lungs.

I almost…

“Sieun-ah,” he whispers, voice jagged and thin, “let’s get you to bed.”

Sieun, standing with his palms against the wall, gaze averted, manages a stiff nod.

They make their way to the bed, and Suho helps Sieun out of his thick clothes once he’s seated.

Sieun giggles, small and barely audible, when his arms get caught in the sweater as Suho tries to pull it off. 

Suho melts as his head finally emerges, hair mussed from the struggle. He reaches to pat it down, clumsy and stiff, then murmurs, “Lay down.”

Instead of laying down, Sieun goes limp and leans his head against Suho’s hip. He stiffens immediately. 

When Suho stands there, unresponsive and numb, Sieun lifts his head, his chin digging into the bone of Suho’s hip. 

His eyes are hooded, sleepy and blown-out from his drunken high. His lower lip is red from Suho’s thumb persistently pressing into it earlier, his face and his ears are unbearably flushed. He licks his lower lip. It glistens in the dim light. 

Suho contemplates becoming a monk. 

A shaky hand reaches to cup the side of Sieun’s face, intending to gently nudge it away. But Sieun leans into it instead.

“What—”

"Suho-ya," he slurs, sticky honey-sweet, damp breath caressing the outline of Suho's palm, "why—why do you hold back now?" 

Suho's world tilts on its axis again. Dizzily, he mumbles as he looks down at him, "What do you mean?" 

"You can't," Sieun nuzzles his face against the frozen palm, trying to melt the sudden tension, "but you keep trying."

Suho tries to breathe normally. 

He doesn't quite find the temperature of normalcy so easily, as Yeon Sieun giggles pliably like a drunken house cat. Loose, and warm, and laughing, bathed in the low orange-yellow light of the bedlamp. A sepia-tinted late-night dream. 

Yeon Sieun is laughing—no, he’s giggling.

"You..." he giggles some more, eyes dropping closed, "you keep trying not to. But you can't.” 

Suho watches him bite his lower lip helplessly, watches as he attempts not to let out another giggle. His cheeks are punch-drunk. 

"You find it funny?" he murmurs. Sieun-ah, do you find my misery that funny? 

Sieun's eyes snap open. 

He tries to arrange his facial features into the shape of seriousness.

"No." he says, very convincingly, blinking languidly, chin still digging into Suho’s hip bone. 

I love him. 

"Darling," Suho murmurs into the dimly lit room. Once again, he feels the tendrils of his self-control slowly loosen. 

Sieun's breath hitches.  

"Won’t you go to sleep?" he pleads.

Sieun shakes his head, indolent and slow, defiant. His chin drags against the material of Suho’s jeans as it rubs against the fabric.

"Why?" 

"Don't wanna," he mumbles, voice low, "wanna stay with Suho." 

I adore him. 

"I'll be right here," he whispers, as Sieun's eyes slip closed again, reluctance in their soft fluttering. 

"Promise?" Sieun begins to slowly go limp, sleep taking over him despite his weak resistance. 

Suho gently pushes him into his bed.

"Promise."

When Suho softly pulls the door to Sieun’s bedroom shut, he turns around and startles. 

Sieun’s mom is leaning against the adjacent wall, looking at him with an inexplicable weight in her eyes. The dim light from the kitchen is soft and diffused where it hits the wall and carpeted flooring, but creates a dramatic shadow on her face. Her expression makes him nervous, all of a sudden. “Eomeo-nim,” he whispers, then bows, stilted and formal. 

Did she see… Did she hear…? 

The thought immediately sets his heart racing wildly in his chest. 

“Is he… Is he asleep?” she asks, the words coming out muted and rigid. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, unable to look her in the eyes. 

They stand in unmoving silence for a few seconds.

Suho tries to open his mouth to form words, but he finds himself unable to think of anything, caught up in the dawning realization that she most probably witnessed what happened in the hallway. He thinks of Sieun’s pleading voice, and his affectionate, intimate replies, the way his thumb dug into his lip, and feels the ground slowly begin to fracture underneath his feet.

Finally, 

“Please leave.”

Suho looks up, shocked. The fractures turn into fissures.

He sees the fear and apprehension, the accusation in her eyes.

“Okay.”

When he gets home, his phone pings with a singular, drunken text that makes his heart constrict in pain:

From: Sieunie 
You promised

He doesn’t reply.

He spends the next few days restlessly working and distracting himself. Sieun ends up busy wrapping up school, so he tries to patch the awkwardness through casual, how-are-you texts. Sieun doesn’t bring up what happened that night, so neither does he. 

Still, it creates a tension that bubbles and fizzes to the surface whenever he lies in bed after a long day. He thinks about Sieun, drunk and endlessly lovely. He thinks about Sieun’s mom, and her complicated expression, deep shadows cast across her face. He tosses and turns. 

When Sieun’s mother finally shows up to his workplace, he can’t say he’s awfully surprised. Part of him was expecting a more severe dressing down, so when she walks into the bar in her formal work clothes, tightly gripping her leather laptop bag, he only briefly stares back in shock. 

She orders soju, and lets him know that she can wait until he’s done with his shift. 

When he finally settles down opposite her, wiping his sweaty palms against his pants, she’s already flushed from the alcohol. 

Without any preamble,

"What are your intentions with my Sieun?" she asks, voice coming out shakily assertive. It’s startlingly direct. She cuts right to the chase, doesn't bother trying to beat around the bush. It throws him off balance. 

For a long second, he doesn’t quite know how to respond, as his heart races in his chest.

He swallows, and met with her searing gaze, he realises that he can’t bring himself to be anything but honest. Playing dumb would be easy, but it would be cowardly, it would be a cop-out. His fists clench underneath the table. Being honest could put Sieun in danger.

But he has a feeling that she knows already. 

He decides to take his chances. 

"Eomeo-nim," he looks down at the table to steel himself, then looks up and meets her gaze, and says with a sad, quiet confidence, "I'm in love with your son." 

Silence. 

As the words settle in the space between them, Suho feels a sudden terror wrack through his bones. What if she tells him? 

Then, Sieun’s mom takes in a visibly deep breath, lets it out, and downs a shot of soju. She slams the empty shot glass back down with a resounding thump, and lowers her trembling gaze to the table.

"That's right, that's what I came to hear, didn't I?" her voice comes out strong, then takes on a tone of anguish, cracking at its ends, "It's what I came to hear, but why is it still so hard to hear it?" 

Suho tries to hide his surprise, and fails. 

"I don't follow," 

“That’s right, I’d rather he be… It would be better than…” 

She cuts herself off, and grabs the soju bottle, going to pour another shot for herself. But her hands are shaking, and she's winded. Suho intercepts immediately, grabbing her arm. 

There's a moment where he blinks at her, and she stares at him incredulously. 

It's beyond impolite, it's crossing all sorts of boundaries, but Suho is steadfast. "Eomeo-nim." He gently pries the bottle away from her hand. "I think that's enough." 

Her mouth opens and closes, then she shakes out of his grip and stares out of the window, off into the distance somewhere, expression complicated.

Meanwhile, he tries to digest the fact that she didn't come here in the pursuit of any kind of hatred, or resentment, but out of love, and in the pursuit of love. She came here hoping that her son is loved, even if it's a love she can't quite wrap her head around yet.

He distantly feels a pang of empathy for her as he looks into her shaky eyes, then sees a hint of similarity reflected in himself—perhaps what he sees is their shared affection for Sieun, even if it takes two different shapes, and exists in different contexts. 

He wonders how much of a difference her care and protection, her understanding and empathy would have made to Sieun’s life if she had given it to him when he needed it the most, as a lonely and confused child. 

He wonders if he’ll regret making the same mistake somewhere down the line, perhaps decades from now, when his coma-wrecked, withering body inevitably meets its end. 

It’s a sobering thought. It makes him want to recklessly down the soju bottle. 

His gaze focuses back on Sieun’s mom, where the familiarity of regret bleeds out of her powdered face and settles somewhere deep in his heart. 

“Does he know?” she asks.

“No.”

A pause. Then, “Why?”

And so he says, voice breaking, “Because I love him.” 

She looks back at him, eyes reddened, expression fraught. 

Whatever he sees in her eyes must be a reflection of his own pain. They stare at each other in hapless silence.

He feels like a child caught in an unfair predicament, shackled by fear. The kind of fear that stagnates, the kind that paralyzes him and renders him a coward in front of love. The selfish kind of fear. He doesn’t want to let Yeon Sieun go, even for a moment, for a second. But in that desperation, he seems to be in a constant, contradictory cycle of pushing him away to keep him close. Keeping him close, then pushing him away. Affection leaks out of him, unbidden, but his mind is trapped in molasses. 

He’s been given a second life, a second chance that not a lot of people get to have, and he wants to use it to be next to Sieun, always. 

If he confesses, he foolishly puts that future in absolute danger. It’s destabilizing. It’s stupid. He knows that, rationally. He knows, and yet. 

His mother watches him quietly. 

Finally, she sighs, and her body slumps tiredly into her chair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, grabbing her bag and sniffling. She pauses, fingers clutching tightly at leather, then loosens her grip and says, eyes distant, “My son has known the pain of heartbreak from a young age. When you went into a coma, it was the first time that I was scared for his life. I feared that he would… And perhaps, if something worse happened to you…” she shivers, “It was then that I realized how deeply he felt for you. And then, when you woke up, I saw life bleed back into him. I…” 

She stops short, then seemingly mutters to herself, “My son… He has a lot of ambition, and he's just been admitted into such a good university…” 

Suho finds himself rendered speechless. 

She rubs at her temples with her fingers, then whispers, “I don't know what I'm trying to say. I hope you understand the complicated heart of a mom.” 

Suho wonders how he could possibly understand. He wonders if she's ever tried to understand her son's heart. If this is her trying to understand.

“I can’t right all my wrongs, but… I hope you give my words some thought.” Her hand reaches out to his in an aborted gesture—but she pulls back with pursed lips. “And I’m the one who should be sorry. I suppose I haven’t been a responsible grown-up. I’m selfish, aren’t I?” 

He can’t bring himself to answer.

She sighs. As she gets up, she spares him one last complicated glance.

He silently watches her retreating back as she goes to pay the bill at the counter.

He stays there for a long time. 

“What bullshit!” Youngyi scoffs, taking a long drag of her cigarette. 

They're going about their usual loitering business, squatting by a streetside hotdog stall. 

Suho takes a big bite of his hotdog, staring at her as he chews. The stall owner spares them a nosy glance as he briefly looks up from his phone.

“Who does that old woman even think she is?” she continues to scoff, “Ugh, shouldn't she just focus on being a good mother, instead of sticking her nose into her son's love life?” 

Suho coughs, then shrugs. “She just wants what she thinks is best for him. Aren't all parents like that?” 

Youngyi shakes her head, stubbing the cigarette out on the pavement. “Some people just shouldn't be parents. I don't think any of our parents should've had kids. Irresponsible bastards.” 

She turns to him. “She was right about one thing, though. Yeon Sieun cares for you so much. I think he'd feel the same way, if you—” 

Suho gets up. Youngyi stares up at him, then scrambles up hastily. 

He exhales a cloud of damp, hot air, and tries not to let that irrational fear consume him whole. 

“Let's talk about something else.”

Youngyi sighs. 

When Suho finds Halmeoni sitting on her usual chair, he settles at her feet and buries his head against her thigh, and her hand comes up to softly pat his head.

"Little one, why are you so sad? It's not like you," Halmeoni gently brushes through his hair, her frail voice a familiar comfort. "You've always been such a determined boy."

Suho only buries his head further, unable to answer. 

Yeon Sieun has turned Ahn Suho into a coward in love. His inability to bring his emotions out, bring those words out, for fear of losing the one person his soul is tethered to, overwhelms him and paralyzes him now, when it used to make him want to walk straight into his own ruin. 

No—he'd still walk into his ruin to protect Yeon Sieun, Suho slowly realizes, and this is him, once again walking into his own ruin, as determined, as self-destructive as he used to be. It’s just heightened now by his selfishness to keep Yeon Sieun close, keep him safe—make sure that from now on, he's always by his side. It's still that same protectiveness, just wearing a different skin, just turned on himself now. 

His need to protect Yeon Sieun, to give him a home, a friend, a reason to smile, a reason to feel. This is what Suho chooses, determinedly, over his own self-preservation. This is who Ahn Suho is, he realizes. It's not cowardice, but the same reckless determination, the same possessiveness, the same need to shield, it's his heart, it's woven into the fabric of his being.

It's what he did almost three years ago, and it's what he's doing now. 

He begins to understand himself a little better. He’s not sure if he likes it. 

The clock ticks softly in the corner, and the dust particles float around where the soft rays of the afternoon sun flood in through the windows. Halmeoni's hand is warm where it rests against his head.

Suho closes his eyes, finally confesses, voice shaking, "Halmeoni, I think I like someone."

There's a moment of silence. He breathes in the soft fabric conditioner scent of her skirt, then nonsensically whispers, “Do you think I can ever be happy?”

Halmeoni pauses in her gentle movements, then, "Suho-ya," 

Suho slowly lifts his face up. She looks into his eyes with kindness, soft and age-worn, tiredness lining the corners of her eyes, and says, "If only some people can have it, that's not happiness." She holds out her hand, unfurls her fingers, and Suho slides his hand into her surprisingly strong, steady grip.

"Happiness is something anyone can have."*

The days get colder. 

Suho thinks about Sieun’s warm mouth, his pliant gaze, his sweet giggles before he falls asleep.

And he pretends. 

Suho doesn’t see it coming.

Or maybe he does.

Maybe he did, and ignored the warning signs.

It starts off as a light throb at his temples. It happens as he’s on his way to work, wearing thick padding and a scarf to guard against the harsh winter cold. 

The wind whips at his face scathingly as he rushes over to open the door of the restobar. 

As he’s stepping inside, his vision goes dark for a second. He stumbles over the frame.

He hears a panicked shout as he grips at the door handle and tries to right himself.

Then, as he comes to, there’s an arm wrapping around his waist. Hyesung materializes into his line of sight as Suho rubs at his eyes.

When he looks at him, Hyesung's mouth forms the shapes of the words, ‘Are you okay?’

With a panicked twist in his gut, he realizes he can’t hear him—yet, he nods and smiles, tight lipped.

Slowly, his hearing fades back in. 

“Are you sure?”

Suho nods, patting Hyesung on the shoulder rigidly. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “I just tripped.”

He avoids Hyesung’s wary gaze.

“Sieun-ah,” 

The snow crunches underneath their feet as they walk to a bus stop from the restobar after Suho’s shift just in time to catch the last bus, just the two of them. 

It’s the first time they’ve been alone together since that night. Suho wonders if Sieun’s caught on to the fact that he’s been avoiding him. 

Sieun’s head snaps up a little belatedly, as if he was lost in thought. “Hm?”

”Halmeoni’s health isn’t all that great, these days,” Suho mumbles listlessly. 

Sieun watches him with his observant eyes. “Did something happen?” His concerned voice is muffled by the thick scarf that wraps around his neck, covering his face up to his nose. 

Suho shakes his head. “Not really, but I can tell, you know? She’s weaker, and stuff.” 

They walk in silence until they reach the bus stop. As they go to stand under it, Sieun asks, “Are you okay?”

Suho pauses, then shrugs, leaning by the pole of the bench. “I guess,” he hesitates, then murmurs, “I kinda feel, you know,”

Sieun sits on the bench. “Yeah.”

Snow begins to fall in light sheets, and the wind picks up, jostling the billboard behind them. 

Then, gaze facing forward, looking out into the deserted street, Sieun mumbles, “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

Suho inhales sharply. Sieun’s eyes flit up to look at him. “Why?” 

“What?” Suho laughs. It’s lifeless and hollow.

He clears his throat, then mumbles, “Halmeoni wants to congratulate you in person. Won’t you visit?”

Sieun looks at him for a long time, then finally sighs and nods.

Suho’s shoulders slump in relief. 

“Little one,” Halmeoni takes Sieun’s hand in hers when he steps into the house the next day. “My sincere congratulations, I’m so proud of you,”

Sieun bows his head to hide his pleased flush. “Thank you, Halmeoni.”

She pulls him into the dining room, makes him eat a generous breakfast spread, doting on him all the while. Suho eats silently as well, a mild headache creating an ache near his temples. Foolishly, he elects to ignore it. Meanwhile, Halmeoni complains that Sieun’s losing too much weight, that he should work to regain all of it before university begins. Sieun takes her nagging with unending patience, nodding and filling his stomach. 

“Halmeoni,” he says in the end, then hesitates before murmuring, “would you be able to come to my graduation?”

She gasps. “Of course!” 

Suho looks down into his plate, a fond smile fighting its way onto his face. 

When Suho wakes up the next day with a splitting headache and a blurry vision, he lays for a muted second in bed.

Slowly, he attempts to get out of bed, nearly losing balance and then sitting back down. 

Fuck, he thinks as he dials Sieun’s number, the text on the phone appearing doubled, fucking hell. 

“Sieun-ah,” he manages once he picks up, “I’m heading to the hospital.”

He can feel Sieun’s immediate alarm. “Why?”

“I’m not feeling so good.”

Rustling from the other end, then, “Stay there. We’re going together.”

Suho almost says, I don’t know if I’ll make it, then elects to keep quiet. He nods, then realizes as his head spins that Sieun can’t hear his nodding. Black spots begin to cloud his vision. “Quick,” he murmurs.

It’s the last thing he remembers. 

Chapter Text

When Suho wakes up, his vision is blurry, and his hearing is muffled. 

He takes a few seconds to adjust. He waits for his sight to clear, and for the water to drain from his ears. His limbs ache all over. 

The first thing he sees as his eyes adjust is Sieun’s silhouette, hunched over the side of his bed, head resting by Suho’s thigh. He’s faced away from him, but it seems that he’s asleep. It looks like late evening outside. There’s a dull purple-grey twilight that shrouds the room and outlines Sieun’s figure. 

Suho’s heart sinks as he slowly realizes what happened. He feels a spike of panic course through him. How long has it been?

He looks down at Sieun again. 

Sieunie.

Suho looks around as his senses slowly come back alive. 

His left arm is littered with venous lines and strapped to a blood pressure cuff and an oximeter. He has a catheter attached to him—it pulls uncomfortably. He feels a dull ache at the back of his head, and his movements are slow and sloppy as he tries to move his fingers. 

Sieun’s hair is sprawled over his thigh. His head feels warm where it meets his leg through the hospital blanket. 

All of his other observations fade into the background as he slowly lifts his right hand, and burrows it in the warmth of Sieun’s scalp. The strands of his slightly oily hair flit through the spaces between Suho’s fingers, tickling the veins on the back of his hand. 

Slowly, he’s overcome with an awful feeling of deja-vu.

His hand that trembles from weakness. 

The damp and medicinal smell of the hospital room.

The machines that beep rhythmically beside him. 

Suho begins to realize that he loathes it, as he looks around to see that he’s in a similar private room again. He feels bile rise in his throat at the implication.

His hand slowly falls away from Sieun’s hair, of its own accord. He wonders why, before flitting his gaze back to see Sieun lifting his head.

He lets his hand drop into the bedding. Sieun wipes at his drool as he sits up. His soft, sleep-rumpled cheek is imprinted with the texture of the blanket. He sniffles as he rubs his eyes. 

When he finally looks up at Suho, his blood-shot, sleep-addled eyes widen with a hopeless kind of hope. 

“Suho-ya?” he croaks.

At once, Suho’s heart stutters to a frightening halt.

Yeon Sieun looks lost. 

He looks so lost, and so sad, as if life has bled right out of him as he lay by Suho’s bedside. Not a single trace of that precious youthful vigor that he’d seen in Sieun’s eyes, just a few days prior. He looks aged, he looks so tired, and awfully lost. 

It’s pathetic. 

It’s pathetic, and Suho suddenly can’t bear to see it. 

He can’t bear it.

The revulsion hits him like a suckerpunch—with the uncontrollable force of a raging, wrathful tide. 

It fills Suho with a shame so deep-rooted, a helplessness so visceral that his organs freeze over. 

He's left with a singular thought echoing in his mind:

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

His bleary mind and his weakened body feel so achingly repulsed by the situation that it takes him unawares, as he stares at Sieun’s deep, grief-wracked eyes, pain bleeding out of the lines of his face.

Is this what you looked like for those two years, Yeon Sieun?

Fuck, is this the way you lived?

You dared to live like this?

His vision gets blurry again, and he wonders why, then belatedly realizes it’s his tears, hot and heavy as he blinks them away, and they roll down his face. 

Sieun says his name again. His voice sounds sad. 

Suho’s thoughts teeter dangerously on the edge of a cliff. Misplaced anger, venomous and scathing, threatens to pulse right into his bloodstream. It feels awfully unlike himself, yet he feels absolutely no control over it. 

Sieun tries to reach for his hand.

He flinches away.

He doesn’t think about it. 

He doesn’t think about it, as Doctor Kang tells him it’s a mild bleed, borderline, and that he got lucky, that they’ll keep him in the hospital for observation.

Sieun replies for him. Doctor Kang’s figure hesitantly pauses by his bedside for a muted second longer, then he shuffles away.

Suho looks out of the hospital window, into a deep, dark night.

When Halmeoni arrives with a warm home-cooked meal and an extra sweater, she tries to embrace him. He can only return it half-heartedly. 

She murmurs something softly to Sieun, and they converse near the hospital room door. He can’t hear what they say, nor does he particularly want to hear anything they say, either.

Sieun places the opened bento box in front of him, and the steam billows out of it.

Suho has no appetite to eat.

Still, when Sieun goes to grab the spoon, he nudges his hand away, and picks it up instead. 

If Sieun has a reaction to it, Suho doesn’t see it.

His hands tremble pathetically. They shake as he tries to scoop up the soup. 

The entire spoonful spills onto the tray before it can get to his mouth. He curses, slamming the spoon against the tray in frustration, and rubs at his eyes with his palms. 

As his shaky hands fall away, Sieun says nothing, only reaching out to gently thumb away his tears as they leak out, unbidden. His touch is such a tender, hesitant thing that Suho can do nothing but take it, even as the white-hot frustration threatens to boil over in his heart. 

When Sieun tries to feed him, he turns his face away, petulant and tight-lipped.

Sieun gets a nurse to feed him, and watches silently until Suho’s finished. 

Suho closes his eyes against his shame. Yet, he can’t seem to open his mouth to get an apology out. 

Suho belatedly wonders if he never processed this searing, all-consuming grief, this venomous rage and guilt ever since he woke up. 

It consumes him in full force, now that he's vulnerable and left to deal with the fact that he is broken—was broken, mind, body and soul—by Kang Wooyoung. 

No, by Oh Beomseok. 

And now, with no other choice, he's forcefully made to accept bribes as blessings. His sustained life support through his coma, the fact that he didn't have to worry about sending Halmeoni and himself into debt by the millions just to live, to survive.

It's an awful, helpless feeling. 

Then, faced with the gaunt-faced ghost of Yeon Sieun, who nearly lost all the light in his eyes—all because of Suho's helpless condition.  

He nearly rips the medical paraphernalia from his arm in frustration, only stopping when Sieun gives him an anxious look from the corner of the room. That doe-eyed, sweet face watches him with worry and tension, as if he's a wild animal at risk of running away.

Suho sighs, then turns onto his side and tries to sleep.

Sieun finds Halmeoni at the end of the hallway, sitting on a seat facing a window. 

“Halmeoni,” Sieun says, walking towards her, “he ate everything.”

Halmeoni smiles at him with forlorn affection, and pats the seat next to her. Sieun sits. 

“That’s good to hear.”

The area is deserted but for the pair of them sat side by side, with only the dully lit vending machine at the corner of the passage to keep them company. 

Halmeoni sighs. “My poor child. That he has to suffer like this, even after everything…”

Guilt slowly crawls into Sieun’s veins—it crawls, and crawls, and seeps right into his heart. It clouds his vision, shrouds it in thick fog as it unfocuses.

In the end, all he can do is whisper: “I’m so sorry, Halmeoni.”

As if a mere apology would ever be enough. 

He can't bring himself to look her in the eyes. He loathes it—and loathes himself for it.

Halmeoni reaches out to pat his arm. Her hands are cold to the touch, but her words are imbued with gentle warmth that Sieun does not think he deserves at all. “Silly boy, what are you apologizing for? In fact, I should be the one apologizing to you.”

Shame tears and eats at his insides. His throat closes painfully shut.  

They sit in long silence. 

Then,

“Suho was always waiting for something.” 

Sieun looks up. Halmeoni’s gaze is heavy as she looks out into the distance. 

“At first, when he was a child, it was his parents. Then…”

Her voice trails off. 

Sieun shifts his gaze and watches the falling snow. 

“Perhaps something that would fill the loneliness that his parents left in him. I never stopped trying to get them to see him, talk to him.”

Sieun hesitates. Then,

“Why did they stop?”

She shakes her head. 

“I don't know,”

Her voice seems farther away now, more distant as she's enveloped by past memories. Her words are feeble as she murmurs, “Maybe they felt like they couldn't face him. They would write to him when he was smaller, then one day after they started struggling with their business, there was nothing. I thought, perhaps they got tangled in…”

Her breath hitches, then she abandons her train of thought.

“I kept sending his mother messages, I still do.” her voice breaks, “I did when he went into a coma, thinking...—but the next day, the only acknowledgement I had was the message from my bank account. They had deposited money. But—that's not why..." 

A silent gale picks up outside the window. 

Gloom envelops the hallway, as the bleak twilight fades into a dull, dusty teal. 

“Suho had long since accepted their abandonment of him. Yet, the brave child never once cried in front of me about it. Instead, when we started struggling and our savings ran out, he took up so many jobs, so many…”

“This old useless lady who doesn’t even have her high school diploma,” she bats at her chest helplessly as her voice uncontrollably picks up an anguished volume, “who only worked on a farm until her husband brought her into the city,” 

“Perhaps if his grandfather was still here... We could have—”

She splinters, breaks off into a sob. Her eyes are glazed over, words desperate and hoarse as she mumbles, “He said he wants to go to college. It's the first time he ever…”

“He said he wants to go to college…” 

Sieun tries to open his mouth, but his throat is closed up, choked off—he can’t seem to get his voice to work.

He can only scrape his nails against the rough threading of his jeans, and close his eyes as his heart shreds itself to pieces, gets swept away into that blizzard.

The gale howls, desperate and unforgiving, against the window pane.

When Suho wakes again, it's to the quiet, rhythmic sound of his drips machine beeping. 

He shifts his head against the soft cotton-covered pillow as his vision adjusts to the night. The room is illuminated by a lone bedlamp, its intensity set to dim.

Suho watches the liquid drip slowly into the hanging container, when the fierce whispering catches on his ears. 

His gaze shifts to the door, open by a crack—just enough to let the voices travel inside.

He furrows his brows as he tries to decipher the words being said. 

Slowly, he adjusts to its frequency: 

“—not done, Sieun-ah. You haven’t slept, god knows you haven’t eaten, I haven’t seen your face in three days—” The whispering voice cracks painfully, and there's a sharp intake of breath. The next words are wobbly as they're spat out. Suho's heart wavers with them: “Is this how you're going to live?”

A beat of silence. 

“Yes.”

“Your graduation is in less than three weeks—”

“I don't care.”

Suho’s breath catches on a sharp inhale.

There’s an ensuing silence.

“Will that be all?” 

“... Son—”

"Excuse me then, Eomeo-nim.”

As the door slides open, and Sieun comes back inside, Suho’s fist clenches against his side. 

Sieun’s eyes meet Suho’s as he pulls the door shut behind him, and he says, “I told Halmeoni to go sleep at home. Her head was hurting.”

Suho doesn’t respond, only fists his other hand into the bedding. 

More silence, then the sound of feet shuffling, and a backpack being deposited on the floor. 

When Sieun goes to sit on the visitor’s bed, Suho finally spits out:

“Does it make sense to you?”

Sieun pauses, then turns to face him, movements aborted. His brow furrows. “What?”

“The way you're living right now.” 

Suho wonders if that's a brief flicker of hurt that crosses Sieun’s face as he says the words, or if it's all in his head. 

They stare each other down for a while before Sieun murmurs, “What about it?”

Suho takes a deep, unsteady breath, and looks away. “Forget it,”

More silence, then,

“I can’t worry about you now?”

“Worry?” Suho retorts dryly. “No, this isn’t worry. You’re a ghost. You’re not taking care of yourself. That’s self-destruction, not worry.”

Sieun remains unperturbed. “That’s my choice.” Suho glares at him. “What’s been up with you since you woke up?”

Suho sits up, face turning stony. “So, you’ll give up living life? Just like that?”

“I never said I’ll give up—”

“Weren’t you like that for two years?” Suho raises his voice unconsciously, and Sieun's eyes waver with shock. “Weren’t you… Wasn’t it lonely?” his vocal cords crack and splinter, “You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat, you didn’t study, you barely got through your day. You’ll do that again? And keep doing that, until—”

“Why, am I not allowed to?”

“Yeon Sieun!”

“Ahn Suho.”

Sieun takes a deep breath, fist clenching by his side. Then, staring intently at Suho, 

“Is it that burdensome to you?” My heart. 

Suho remains silent, helplessly glaring into Sieun’s eyes, grief and frustration pulsing through his veins. You’re not. It’s not. I just can’t…

Finally, 

“I don't need your guilt, Yeon Sieun.” 

Sieun breaks his gaze away, expression becoming withdrawn and hazy.

A beat.

Another beat.

The machines beat their steady, unforgiving rhythm against the silence.

Then, whispered, 

“Just like my mom.” 

Suho feels his heart lurch.

Sieun looks back up, gaze heavy with a hurt so deep that it turns his blood-shot eyes into blank, void-like pools of sorrow. Suho’s world begins to shatter, piece by awful piece. 

“I thought you of all people would understand me.” 

Sharp, incisive cuts, with words like a knife: 

“At least you.”

Suho bleeds. The blood leaks like venom. As the knife twists into his heart, he whispers, “I do.”

He looks into Sieun's ghastly, bloodshot eyes, wracked with immeasurable hurt and pain, and feels repulsion shudder through his veins. His love sits caged in his poisoned, guilt-ridden heart.

“I hate it.”

He wonders when he became this broken. 

Drip, drip. 

He watches as Sieun's tears build, and spill, heavy and unbidden. 

Suho looks away as his guts twist. The bile in his stomach roils dangerously. 

He looks away, and doesn’t look back, even when he hears Sieun's heavy-laden footsteps, the sound of his backpack rustling as it's picked up, the shick of the door being pulled shut. 

He looks away, and doesn’t accept his foolish betrayal, his cowardice, nor his guilt. 

He lets his love slip away into the dark of the night, and mourns. 

The steady drip of medicine into his veins does nothing to aid his affliction.

Shick. 

The door slides open, in the dim light of the late night. 

A hunched figure makes its way back inside, careful in its movements. 

Suho's wide awake, head turning from blankly staring out of the window to look at the closing door.

He has to swallow his surprise.  

Just like that, Yeon Sieun comes right back, wades through the poisoned water flooding the room with determined ease. 

Just like that, he silently deposits his bag by the visitor's bed and comes to refill Suho's glass of water by the bedside table. 

Just like that, he adjusts the bedlamp to its dimmest setting, and murmurs, “Sleep. You need it.” 

Suho silently closes his eyes, unshed tears dripping onto his cheeks as he tries his best to fall asleep. 

When his breathing evens out, and he's on the verge of slipping into a dreamless void, he feels his hair being caressed softly. Then, a warm, hesitant thumb slips down to rub at his wet cheeks in gentle and shaky movements. 

The gesture is so heart-achingly clumsy that Suho feels his welled-up tears pressing heavy against his eyelids, leaking out as he lets the warmth of Sieun's awkward affection pull him into sleep, untethered.

The next day passes in awkward, wordless silence. 

He begins physiotherapy anew, and gets good enough on his two feet that they remove his catheter the day after. 

Doctor Kang insists on him staying for another week at least, just to be sure that he isn't at risk of complications, or another bleed—Suho can do nothing but nod and accept his words. 

When Youngyi visits, she bounds directly to Suho, wrapping him in a warm hug, burying her face into his shoulder. “Ahn Suho,” she whispers, “quit traumatizing me, you freak.” 

He cracks a smile despite himself. 

When she goes to wrap Sieun in a tight hug, Suho watches as he reciprocates in clumsy movements, consciously relaxing himself. 

He's not quite sure why it makes him so teary-eyed, all of a sudden.

Suho takes a nap. When he wakes up again, Youngyi is still by Sieun's side, speaking to him in hushed whispers. When she sees that he's awake, she walks over and ruffles his hair. “I'm leaving,” 

Once she's gone, it's back to awkward silence. 

Sieun, in a display of uncharacteristic forwardness—and stubbornness—begins to feed him, and he gratefully accepts. He sits on the side of Suho's bed and daintily mixes tiny bird-sized bites onto the spoon, before carefully holding it up to Suho's face, nervous flightiness in his eyes. 

Suho eats those miniscule portions with a sorry heart, and a gratefulness that eclipses the itchy frustration and guilt that sits heavy in his chest.

It all culminates when a nurse asks him early one morning if he'd like some fresh air by the hospital veranda at the end of the hallway. 

Suho immediately nods, and he's helped out by a nurse and Sieun. 

As he settles on a bench in front of a wide window, watching the gentle early morning snowfall and the dawn sky, he's overcome with visceral tiredness that pulls at his aching bones. 

It slowly eats at him, body and soul. 

Sieun sits next to him, silent and steady. 

He had fret over Suho as he'd gotten out of bed just a few minutes earlier, nearly turning the room upside down in search of the extra sweater that Halmeoni had brought for Suho. “It'll be cold,” he'd mumbled, eyes obsessively scanning every inch of the room, as Suho had weakly tried to reassure him that he's warm. When he'd found the sweater, he'd waddled over and shoved it at Suho, face flushed from exertion, avoiding his gaze. 

It was nearly impossibly sweet. It was grating. 

Suddenly, the searing guilt from snapping at Sieun a few nights prior hits Suho wave after awful wave, and he's faced with the ghost of his pathetic reflection in the glass window as he swallows against his pain. 

He's so tired. 

He feels like a burden.

“Sieun-ssi,” he begins, gaze distant, voice watery, “can't you forget me? Can't you just live happily without—”

His voice unravels, cracks and splinters like rocks breaking off a cliff into an echoing abyss. 

A loud silence follows.

Then, mumbled into that same abyss,

“Forget you?” 

Sieun's voice shakes, teeters dangerously on the precipice of something Suho can't quite place. 

A beat. Then,

“Ahn Suho,” his words take on a sharpness as his voice straightens itself out, its edges strong, “don't speak so recklessly.”

A moment of drawn-out silence, and a heavy stillness. Outside, the birds don't dare to sing, the breeze doesn't dare to blow past. 

Finally, 

Suho swallows, and whispers, “I'm sorry.”

It echoes in the dark corridor. 

More silence, then a hand slips into his own. The grip is unexpectedly strong and assured. Endless warmth radiates and flows, dispersing into Suho. 

Fingers twine between his own and squeeze. 

It gives him the courage to let his tears slip out, silent and unbidden. 

Throat closed, voice cracking in pain, he whispers, “I really am sorry.” 

Slowly, 

Suho’s hand is lifted up and pulled, measured and deliberate. 

Then, 

Sieun nudges his soft cheek against the back of Suho's hand, indolent and unbearably sweet, so gentle that it's nearly ticklish.

He murmurs, “Stop being an idiot.”

Sieun holds it there, in place, as Suho's eyes flicker up to look at him. He holds it there, against the warmth of his heated cheek, steadfast as he stares straight ahead, ears betraying his courage in their achingly red flush. 

Suho swallows, a watery smile helplessly fighting its way onto his face. 

He looks back out into the distance and finds sunlight, warm and true, peeking through from the edges of that abyss. 

“Okay. I will.” 

After they're back in his hospital room, Sieun calls out to him. 

“Suho-ya,” 

Suho turns around, drips stand rattling as he stops. 

He’s met with a gaze so fierce that it makes his heart stutter.

“I won't leave.”

Suho stands there and watches that fierce stare, enraptured. His world narrows down to that pair of dark eyes. He sees those eyes break away, sees his fists clench by his side.

“I promise.”

Yeon Sieun is being brave for him. Yeon Sieun is being strong for him.

It rips at Suho's heartstrings. He can see so clearly, just how much of him it's taking, how much of him is fighting to endure, how hard he's trying not to cave in. 

Suho begins to see the way in which love is changing the shape of Yeon Sieun. It makes him ache.

His clumsily uttered words of assurance, leaking with affection and longing. The sweet way in which he scolds, berates and nags. The worry that seeps through in his every little expression, the care that radiates through every little action. So full of love, and yet so achingly hesitant. 

He sees it all.

It makes Suho feel like less of a human and more of a being, thrumming with energy that begs to be displaced. It's invigorating enough to make him forget the tiredness that sits deep in his bones.

And so he asks, with a slowly blooming cheeky half-smile, indulgent and warm,

“Am I stuck with you forever, Yeon Sieun?”

Sieun looks up. A steady gaze settles on him. Suho watches, transfixed, as his eyes beautifully harden with determination, and his fists clench again by his side.

He swallows, then nods once. 

“Yeah.”

Suho helplessly smiles through his tears. 

He holds his arms out, and whispers, “Come.” 

Yeon Sieun doesn’t waste a moment.

As he embraces Sieun, folds into him, feels his love and warmth radiate and shroud around him, and feels his light permeate him, Ahn Suho's twisted world tilts back by a degree.

How lucky I am to be cared for by you, Yeon Sieun.

When Suho sits on the side of his bed again, and starts feeling the warmth leave him, he mourns.

He stares at Sieun's back as Sieun straightens out the visitor's bed, and pushes the food trolley to the side. 

He finds that he can't bear to see that lonesome back a second longer. 

The acute pain in his chest spreads out, and creates a dull ache in the back of his head again. His knee throbs dully in the background.

Guilt, for mistreating his one true friend, envelops Suho until his world narrows down once again to that hunched figure, listlessly rearranging the items on the food trolley. 

And Suho, sick and overcome with Sieun's loneliness, begins to understand his own loneliness too. 

“Sieun-ah,” he calls, voice weak and distorted, and Sieun turns to look at him.

He pleads, “Won't you hold me?” 

Whatever Sieun sees in his expression must be so acute that it makes him pause in his step.

He doesn’t move for a long moment.

Then slowly, he takes a step toward him, then another, and another, until he's standing between Suho's legs where he's perched on the side of the bed. 

“Why?” Sieun asks, concern lining the corners of his eyes, “Are you okay?” 

“No,” Suho whispers, “I'm not,” 

Suho reaches out to Sieun's hand, grabbing his wrist and pulling it up to place it on top of his own head. 

Suho lowers his head to lean against Sieun's chest as his fingers curl against his scalp, unintentionally scratching against it. 

“I'm lonely,” Suho's voice cracks, tears welling in his eyes all of a sudden. Sieun, hesitant and sweet, wraps an arm around his back, rests his head against the top of Suho's. 

“I'm here,” Sieun sounds like he's testing the shape of the words as they leave his mouth. It makes Suho smile, small and endeared, as he wraps his arms around Sieun's waist and pulls him closer. 

“I know.” 

He pulls Sieun into the bed, and he follows, pliant and untethered, soft and willing. 

He gets Sieun to lie down, and he contorts his body to rest his head on Sieun's soft belly. His arm comes to hold him by his waist.

He feels Sieun's belly expand with every inhale, contract with every exhale. He closes his eyes against it.

Then, Suho feels a gentle weight against his head, fingers raking through soft strands, stilted yet gentle.

He burrows further into his belly. Then, an arm winds around the back of his shoulders. Suho lets himself melt into the warmth, feeling the color bleed back into his world. The ache in the back of his head begins to fade. 

Suho thinks to himself, this is all I'll ever need.

Like this, he falls asleep. 

When Suho wakes up, he's drooling into Sieun's chest, arms wrapped tight around his waist. Their legs are entangled with one another. Sieun still has his arm wrapped around Suho's shoulder, the other slack in his hair.

Suho lifts his head up, and sees Sieun's pretty, sleeping face. He studies it silently for a while.

Finally, Sieun stirs, and slowly blinks his eyes awake. When he looks at Suho, he's quiet for a long moment. His fingers scratch at Suho's scalp, soft as he caresses him. 

They stare at each other, unwilling to break such a tender moment.

Suho slowly pulls himself up, and Sieun's arm falls away from his shoulder. 

Sieun lets it fall, but Suho catches his forearm and wraps it around his waist. He hears Sieun's breath hitch. 

As he pulls himself up to lay his head next to Sieun's on the pillow, he brings a hand up to Sieun's face, gently pushing strands of hair away from his forehead. 

“Sieun-ah,” he murmurs, love curling into the ends of his voice, “did I hurt you a lot?” 

Sieun scratches at his scalp some more, softness mirroring in his own eyes. “No,” he mumbles. 

“I'm sorry.” He rubs under Sieun's eye, clumsy and unpracticed. 

Sieun shakes his head a smidge. “I understand.” 

Suho groans. “No, Sieun-ah,” he grips the side of Sieun's face, overwhelmed by a sorry mix of guilt and fondness, “you shouldn't understand. Can't you just call me a bastard, huh?” 

“Bastard.” 

“That's better.” 

Suho leans in to press an impulsive, affectionate kiss against Sieun's forehead. Sieun gasps, then buries his face into the pillow. 

Suho holds him by his neck, an amused grin slowly taking over as he asks, “Shy?” 

“No,” Sieun mumbles. It's muffled.

Suho can't resist teasing him. He pulls Sieun's face away from the pillow, and he comes away like a rag doll, soft and pliant. 

But before he can attack his face with his evil little pecks, the door to the hospital room slams open. 

A bellowing voice calls out, “Suho-san!” 

Sieun nearly falls off the bed as Suho turns to see Baku, turning progressively red-faced as he stands paralyzed by the door. Hyuntak pokes his head out from behind him, muttering, “Dude, mo—” 

Baku sputters, then deeply bows, “Sumimasen!” 

He takes a step back, upper body still bowed, and pulls the door shut again. 

Suho hears a muffled, ‘what the fuck?’ from Hyuntak.

He tries his best not to laugh.  

Sieun goes to open the room door, face flushed high, hair sticking out at its ends.

When Baku meets his blank and dead-eyed stare, he laughs nervously, and whispers, “Sieun-ah, sorry.” 

Juntae and Hyuntak purse their lips and try not to laugh.

Sieun steps aside with a small sigh. “Come.”

As their friends shuffle in, Sieun goes to sit on the visitor’s bed, but Suho grabs his wrist as he passes by and sits up, patting the space in front of his crossed legs. 

Sieun only briefly hesitates, before climbing onto the bed and sitting perpendicular to Suho.

When Suho pulls him into his arms, their friends don’t even blink. 

Instead, they gather around and start yapping, making themselves at home as they discard bags and winter jackets haphazardly.

Suho inhales the scent of Sieun’s freshly shampooed hair and laughs at Baku’s ridiculous new basketball story. Sieun melts into him.

Later at night, after Halmeoni’s had dinner with them and left, Sieun begins to prepare his own bed for the night. Suho tries to brazenly pull him in multiple times, but keeps missing his windows of opportunity. 

When Sieun finally finishes his night-time routine and comes to adjust Suho’s bedlamp to its dimmest setting, Suho stares at him forlornly. 

Sieun doesn’t notice. 

He obediently goes to sleep on his bed, yawning all the while.

When Sieun begins to toss and turn, however, Suho knows he’s facing the same predicament as him. 

In the end, all it takes is a warmly murmured, “Come here,” for Sieun to come to him.

And so, Sieun comes to sleep next to him, sleep-warm and soft as he nuzzles his head into Suho's chest. He folds his legs in, tangles them with Suho's legs, and clutches at Suho's hospital shirt.

Suho, helpless in the face of his affection, wraps an arm around his waist and plants a light kiss against his forehead.

It makes Sieun rub his face further into Suho's chest and press impossibly closer, murmuring little incoherent words in his sleepiness.

Suho can't contain his endearment. 

“You're a baby, aren't you? Yeon Sieun.” 

“No,” he protests. It comes out as a muffled whine. 

Suho's heart aches.  

He tightens his arm around Sieun's waist, pulls him in further, nuzzles his cheek against Sieun's soft hair. 

“You are.”

That night, with Sieun tucked into his arms, warm and whole, Suho dreams. 

He dreams of those warm rays of light again, shimmering against the peaceful backdrop of an azure sky, soft clouds sifting through and absorbing those rays intermittently. He feels that warmth envelop him, penetrate through him as he floats, and that same indolent, deep voice calls out so gently, so sweetly,

Closer than ever, 

“Suho-ya.”

Sieun-ah, I love you.

He wakes up with his heart beating a slow, steady rhythm. 

It’s quiet outside, the scarce winter birds chirping on snow-capped trees. The diffused light of the dawn sky colors the room in a gentle blue hue. Yeon Sieun sleeps, soundly buried into Suho, his nose pressed against Suho’s neck, arms wrapped tight around his waist. Their legs are tangled under the warm blanket.

Suho lifts a hand to sift through Sieun’s strands. He buries his fingers in the warmth of Sieun’s scalp, taking his time carding through his hair, finally letting himself indulge in his affection. 

He gently pulls Sieun’s face away from his neck and shifts his upper body ever so slightly. 

He rests his head on his elbow for support and gently lays Sieun’s head on the pillow, turning on his side to gaze at his sleeping face.

Sieun looks young when he sleeps, his facial features unmarred, not quite carrying around its usual weight. His full lips, long lashes, soft cheeks, that Suho could never tire of—

His pretty eyes, that are fluttering open, artless and unguarded. Staring right at Suho.

Suho exhales. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath.

“Hey,” he whispers, a soft, dopey smile taking over his face.

Sieun mirrors it right back, mouth curling upwards, a soft brilliance lighting up his face.

When Suho’s pulse reading begins to skyrocket, the stupid machine beeping urgently, he startles and rips it off with a muttered curse. 

“Sieun-ah,”

They’re in each other’s arms again, later in the day.

A snowstorm rages outside the window, thick and heavy gales of wind slam into the glass, rattling the window panes. In Suho’s hospital bed, however, there’s a near-sleepy peacefulness and warmth that radiates.

Yeon Sieun bundles in closer. “Hm?”

“Do you like me?”

Sieun slowly raises his head, expression flat.

Suho persists, sneaking a hand under the blanket to wind around his waist. 

His head is pillowed on his other arm, Sieun half laying on top of him. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Sieun mutters.

Suho hums, dissatisfied. “I like Sieunie so much, though.” He holds Sieun’s face in his palm as he nuzzles into his cheek, sniffing at it. “I like you so much I could explode from it.” 

Sieun’s face heats up, flaming red. He tries to squirm away, and Suho lets him. 

Not knowing where to hide, Sieun decides to bury his face in the crook of Suho’s neck instead. Suho pulls him in closer, laughing as his arms wrap tight around his back. 

Then, an almost inaudible whisper: “I like you, too.”

Suho immediately perks up. “Yeah?”

He feels Sieun nod, his heavy breath tickling Suho’s neck. 

“How much? Sieun-ah, how much do you like me?”

Sieun groans. 

When Suho tries to pull Sieun’s head away, he resists at first, then unsticks with a pout. “Well?” Suho smirks playfully, “How much?”

A pause.

Then, Sieun leans in, and Suho has barely half a second to freeze and panic, before Sieun’s lips press against his own. 

A soft, warm weight presses awkwardly, clumsily against his mouth. It’s slightly damp, sticky sweet, and it’s gone entirely too soon.

Suho is left reeling, blood gushing in his ears, heart racing in his chest, as he watches Yeon Sieun pull away slowly. 

They stare at each other, wide-eyed and breathless. 

Seconds later, Suho's still unresponsive. 

Finally, Sieun averts his gaze, shy. “Isn’t that what you were asking for?” he murmurs, fingers curling into Suho’s hospital shirt. 

“Huh?” Suho’s blank. 

Yeon Sieun kissed me. He kissed me on the mouth. 

Sieun begins to look like he’s having second thoughts. 

Before Suho knows it, he’s moving. He pushes Sieun into the bed, and he lands with an oomph, arranged so that Suho’s the one hovering over him, reversing their positions. “Sieun-ah,” he murmurs, frantic, pulse kicking into high gear.

Sieun looks up at him in surprise. “What are you—”

“You kissed me,” Suho whispers, a shaky hand gripping Sieun’s face, a greedy thumb already pressing into Sieun’s glistening lower lip. “Why?”

Sieun just breathes heavily, looking up at him with that wide-eyed stare that Suho’s beginning to realize drives him absolutely crazy. 

“Hm?” he continues, half out of his mind, gaze lidded, “Sieun-ah, you like me so much that you’d kiss me?” 

Suho’s other arm winds around Sieun’s waist, slipping behind his back, and Sieun goes slack, subconsciously lifts his waist without thought. “What else would you do?”

“Have you lost it?” Sieun whispers, letting out a small sound when Suho pulls him even closer by his waist. 

“Yeah,” Suho murmurs, then leans in to peck Sieun’s mouth again, then again, then again. 

On the fourth peck, Sieun winds a hand around the back of Suho’s neck, grips at his hair and pulls him back in before he can pull away completely.

They kiss, breathless and eager, closed mouths crushed against each other. 

When they have to pull back for air, it’s with reluctance. 

Suho feels like he’s in heaven, staring at Sieun’s mouth—pink and open, glistening with Suho’s spit. 

He can’t resist. 

Suho leans in for another kiss, breathless and eager.

But before he can close the distance fully, Sieun slaps a hand over his mouth. 

He pauses, eyes wide. 

When he tries to move in again, he's met with resistance, the hand pushing his face away. 

He stares in bewilderment. 

"Sieun-ah," he mumbles, voice garbled and muffled through Sieun's palm held tight over his lips. "Why—why?" 

Sieun swallows, then murmurs, "You can't exert yourself." 

Suho feels like he's about to lose his marbles—all of them, every last one.

“No,” he begins, tone hysterical, “no, Sieun-ah, you can't.” Suho, with great difficulty, wrenches Sieun's hand away from his mouth and continues, eyes frantic, “You know what this feels like? Imagine you've watched all the episodes of a show and the main leads finally get together,” he tightens his grip on Sieun's wrist when he tries to slip his hand away, “and they kiss, and you think—finally, we're getting to the good stuff—but then the credits start rolling.” 

Sieun's gaze slowly turns flat. 

It only serves to make Suho feel even more hysterical as he desperately licks at his lips, wetting them. His eyes travel down to Sieun's mouth. “It's so frustrating, what if I die of frustration,” he whines pathetically, arms wrapping around Sieun's waist. 

Sieun squirms, then rolls his eyes at him. “Are you a pervert?” 

It's a shot to the heart.

Suho gapes. “What do you mean—am I a pervert? Are you shaming me for wanting you?” 

“No,” Sieun sighs, “I'm shaming you for being pathetic about it.” 

Suho nearly faints at his audacity.

They don’t really talk about the kissing, or the odd half-non-confession confession, but it doesn’t bother Suho. They don’t need to talk about it, at least not quite yet. It’s easy to understand, looking into each other’s unfiltered gazes. It’s easy to trust. 

It’s easy to fall into each other’s arms at the end of the day. 

Sieun, out of boredom, downloads the syllabus for his first semester of university, and begins to read, because he’s a nerd. My nerd, Suho thinks dopily, watching Sieun read near the window. He’s too far gone to cringe at his own cheesiness.

Sieun feeds him still, even though Suho’s hands work just fine now. 

It’s sweet, and he seems to like doing it, so Suho lets him, even though it takes ages as a result of Sieun scooping bird-sized bites into the spoon. 

Once they’re done, Sieun waddles over to the food trolley and sets the bento box down, methodically arranging the cutlery. 

When he comes back to the bed, book in hand, Suho leans in to peck his forehead. Sieun flushes pink, averting his gaze as he pulls his feet up and sits cross legged across from Suho.

Suho feels his heart swell. He looks brighter, more alive now, than he did when Suho was first admitted a week ago.

A week ago, when Sieun had looked like death warmed over, stressed and worried, awfully sleep deprived. 

“Sieun-ah,” Suho nonsensically murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Sieun looks up, brows furrowed. “What?”

Suho swallows. “Nothing.”

Suddenly, remembering seeing Sieun in so much pain, so gut-wrenchingly devastated—looking as if he's lost all will to live, all color drained from his viscera—Suho decides that this can't be it. He pictures an aged Sieun, gray-haired and wrinkly, sat all by his lonesome, no Suho to keep him company.

Panic twists in his guts. This can't be it.

He decides with finality, determination settling in his heart. 

“Sieun-ah,” he murmurs frantically, boring holes into him, “let's get married and have a baby one day.”

As soon as he utters these words, Sieun’s head lifts up to look at him as if he misheard. When met with a disbelieving silence, Suho clarifies for him. 

“I'm gonna have a baby with you, Yeon Sieun.”

Sieun goes red, glancing at the closed hospital room door in panic. “Are you…” he doesn’t finish his thought, “Do you know how human bodies work?” 

Suho waves a dismissive hand at him. “If it was possible, I'd have gotten you pregnant already,” 

Hysterically, “Ahn Suho—” 

“Just joking, haha,” Suho sits up in his bed, then reaches over to pinch his cheek. Sieun slaps his hand away. “We'll adopt. Have a kid with me, Sieun-ah. I'll give you the rest of your twenties to think about it.” 

Sieun opens his mouth but Suho interrupts. “Actually, don't think about it. I'm having a baby with you regardless.”

Sieun's mouth flaps closed. Then, he finally whispers,

“...Crazy bastard.”

“Sieun-ah, is that a yes? You're blushing so hard right now.” 

“It's not happening.” 

“Ha, it so is.”

“Shut up.”

“What's a pretty name, you think? Si—Si-ho? Pfft, that's not it. Eun-ho? Pretty cute, no?—Sieun-ah, where are you going? I'm joking. Come back here—”

Chapter Text

Yeon Sieun has always heavily relied on his instinct. 

He relies on his instinct to guide him when it comes to matters of the mind. His nervous system is primed to sense danger, and most of the time, his instinct is what allows himself to push past overwhelming fear. 

At the age of ten, when his mind decided to shut down emotionally to protect himself, he had no choice but to trust that it was guiding him to safety. 

He understands, rationally, his own intuition when it comes to reading people. He’s always been highly sensitive towards other peoples’ emotions, to the point of needing to dull everything out in order to live his life in relative safety. It started with trying to understand and feel his parents’ pain as his own, internalizing it to the extent that he couldn’t bear its weight anymore, until it paralyzed him enough that he had to find ways to numb it out.  

Slowly, it began to creep up on him, until he plugged his earphones in for the first time and felt the comfort of not having to hear muffled arguments over the phone, through the walls. Raised voices, fighting that seemed to always revolve around him, or their misfortune of having to be around each other. Even though they chose each other, repeatedly, even in the moments that they chose to fight. Until they didn't.

And so, it dampened, and dampened. Until he was left in the nether, in silence, in the comfort of the dark.

Until the only carefully curated sounds that permeated were as such: his mother’s recorded voice that floated through tinny speakers, the wrinkle of the triangle kimbap wrapping, Kakaotalk pings when his dad occasionally texted him to ask if he was okay from some distant place, the scratch of pencil against paper, the disruptive schoolbell and rowdy jaunts from fellow classmates that were muffled by his earbuds.

He wasn’t really living. He didn’t really want to, or know how to, either. It was fine. 

It was fine. 

Until it wasn’t.

He’d always felt too intensely, and that was how he found himself pulling the curtain tight over Youngbin’s face, beating his face until it bled. Over and over, and as the book struck, kept striking, he only let himself slip into the deluge. The resentment that had built up in him over the years. The anger of being toyed with, as if he was a helpless victim. As if he'd sit back and take it. Youngbin never understood that he was already broken. He never thought himself to be a particularly good person, anyway. Just one that scored well enough to earn his parents’ superficial warmth, and satisfy that persistent itch in his brain. It was the one thing he had going for him. The only thing. 

There were no earbuds now, to mute the heavy sound of the spine of the hardbound book colliding with Youngbin’s nose through thick cotton. But he was dissociating to the point that he couldn’t hear it anyway.

His rage didn’t surprise him. 

Being yanked out of it, however—that’s what surprised him. By someone who looked like he was bemused by Sieun’s anger, no less. Cracking some joke that Sieun couldn’t hear past the rush of blood in his ears, the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Fighting him like it was too easy. 

Making him bow to the teacher, covering for him like his blinding presence was least affected by Sieun’s ferality. 

Winking at him, asking to be treated to a meal, shooting him a finger heart with a playful glint in his eyes. As if he’d peeked into Sieun’s gaping maw, into the void and the depths of nothingness that housed only splintered anger and resentment and pain and pervasive, aching, bone-deep exhaustion, and he wasn’t repulsed.

Warmth.

Suddenly, he began to understand how tilted his world had become, when he was faced with someone who had the ability to stand upright despite it all.

Is that what was missing, the entire time? 

That mysterious life-force that Sieun couldn’t seem to comprehend.

Sieun’s always felt too much, and too intensely. 

If anything could drive him to the brink of madness, into his doom, it’s his own emotions. Raw, unfiltered and so deep that they could splinter his reality at a moment’s notice. 

Because he feels a little too deeply, he’d assumed that this is what friendship was like, for him. 

The feeling of being shrouded in familiar, glowing warmth: a simple comfort, until it was too close, and then it was dizzying heat. Being gazed at, until the gaze lingered for too long, on the tail-end of some fight-turned-chase. 

So, when Suho describes Sieun as the one who’s warm, in that hospital room that smells of antiseptic and steaming seolleongtang, it pulls a near disbelieving, fond smile out of him. 

He’d changed so fundamentally without even noticing. Or rather, he thawed until his heart was able to beat again. 

The warmth that floods through his body: it’s Suho’s pervasive light, taking root deep within, as natural as the laws of physics dictate. 

For the first time in a long time, he lets himself feel—unhindered, unafraid.

Tempered by Suho’s light, he finds that it’s not so bad after all. 

When Suho was in his coma, that pervasive, all-encompassing grief made his memories and emotions come to a standstill. He was stuck in that same timeless void, trying to reach through an endless tunnel for a glimpse of that light once more.

Seeing Suho in front of him again, alive and whole, makes him understand a little more subconsciously—instinctively, as the scent of spring brushes past in a light breeze. His friends stand behind him, and Suho sits in his wheelchair in front of him, and…

His heart begins to beat, loud and clear and aching, and… 

It’s different. Overwhelmingly different, and yet, the same. 

Just so much more all-consuming. 

Maybe it was never just friendship. Something incredibly difficult to define.

It’s what his instinct tells him. 

He doesn’t bother trying to fool himself otherwise.

He doesn’t quite know what to do with it, either. 

He’s grateful that he gets to soak in its presence, regardless. 

“I’m sorry.”

Suho’s eyes snap open.

They’re lying side by side on his hospital bed. It’s night-time. They’d kissed on this very bed, a number of hours ago. And now, they’ve slipped into bed again. The intimacy of the night brings a whole new meaning to their newly discovered affection, and so they’re unusually cautious around each other, nervous in a way neither have been before. They sleep facing each other, knees grazing, heads resting too close for comfort on the singular pillow. 

Suho blinks. “For what?”

Sieun hesitates, then turns to lie on his back, eyes facing the ceiling. His knees tent under the blanket. 

“When the bleed happened, you started to fall unconscious. We made it to the hospital with your eyes open, but you were slipping.” Sieun hesitates again. “I started panicking.”

Suho finds his throat going dry, all of a sudden. 

“The doctor said that prolonged unconsciousness could mean…”

“Sieun-ah,” 

Sieun studies the ceiling, and mumbles, “I realized I never got to thank you.”

His eyes are lined with pain.

“For what?”

Sieun’s helpless gaze finds Suho’s. 

In his eyes, Suho finds something so stark that it takes his breath fully away. 

“For everything.”

That night, they simply hold each other. 

When Suho wakes up with Sieun’s breath in the crook of his neck, and his arm twined tight around his waist, he holds him tighter, until Sieun slowly wakes. Dawn begins to break outside.

Then, looking into his sleepy eyes, Suho murmurs, “I’m sorry, and thank you.”

Sieun says back, voice slow and cracking with sleep: “Me too. I’m also sorry, and thankful.”

Suho pushes away the hair from his eyes, smiling at its sleep-mussed ends sticking out at the back. Sieun lets his eyes slip closed again under his ministrations.

“The words, ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’,” he runs a thumb over the soft skin of Sieun’s upper eyelid. It flutters under his gentle touch. “I don’t think there’s a need for them anymore, between us.”

Suho kisses his nose. It scrunches under his lips. 

“Because we understand.”

Sieun looks at him with an open gaze when he pulls back. Suho smiles, small and easy, and it’s returned in a way that makes his heart shiver.

“Yeah.” Sieun agrees.

They let the moment linger.

Sieun then stretches, then begins to pull his languorous limbs off the bed. “The nurse will be here soon.”

“Yeah.”

Suho thinks back to what it means to be happy. Happiness was never a thing of hesitation, prior to the coma—even if he only began to truly familiarize himself with its likeness around the time he met Sieun, Beomseok and Youngyi. It’s only after waking up that the concept of happiness became so much more fragile to him. His own happiness, the happiness of those around him. How his absence, or his presence, might affect those close to him. 

He thinks back to his hasty proclamations, and finds himself wondering. He asks Sieun the same question he’d asked Halmeoni, as if seeking an answer unknown to him. As Sieun’s pouring out water for him, he asks, “Sieun-ah, do you think we could be happy?”

Sieun pauses, and reads between the lines, tilting his head to listen to the words unsaid. 

Suho expands, tumbling over his words. “It’s just, I know I was joking about the—well, earlier, but I don’t know if we can—if we could—”

“I’m happy right now.” Sieun says, blinking, as if he doesn’t understand Suho, either. “Isn’t that what matters?”

Of course. Happiness doesn’t rest in a distant future, or in faded memories of the past. It’s a concept as ephemeral as the present, and isn’t conditional on anyone, or anything.

Suho lets it seep in, warm and true, as Sieun continues to pour the water into the rest of his glass, and hands it to him, filled to the brim.

Yeah, he's pretty fucking happy, as all things go.

Youngyi stares at Suho in shock.

A moment passes, then she bursts into loud, raucous laughter. It’s so loud that it rings out into the hospital room and bounces off the glass window; a bird that had been innocently tweeting by the window pane startles and flutters away. 

Suho blinks at her. 

“You... Bahahaha!”

“What's wrong with you now?” he mumbles, face twisted into an expression of mild disgust.

Youngyi clutches at her stomach, eyes folded into crescents. She points at him between bouts of laughter. “You... You took so fucking long that Yeon Sieun of all people ended up making the first move—Yeon Sieun—hahaha!”

She dissolves into helpless laughter again, doubling over. 

Suho bristles. “What are you talking about? I was just playing the long game. I baited him—masterfully. You’re clueless, that's all.” 

Youngyi straightens and wipes at a tear, then arranges her face into a dramatic imitation of Suho, pouting as she lowers her voice, “Ah, Youngyi-ya, he just means so much to me, I can’t lose him, waaah—”

Suho throws his pillow at her. 

She dodges and sticks her tongue out. “I'm glad at least one of you isn't a hopeless fucking idio—” 

When Sieun walks in with drinks in hand, he pauses by the door and stares blankly. 

Suho's out of his bed. His drips line stretches precariously, threatening to knock the stand off balance. He has Youngyi in a tight chokehold, murmuring, “Tap out or you'll die, fucker,” 

She struggles, red-faced. 

Sieun takes a second to briefly look back out into the peaceful hallway, then at Suho and Youngyi. In the span of that short second, Suho abruptly lets go of her, and shoots a sweet smile at Sieun as she coughs and heaves. “Ah, you’re back?”  

Sieun sighs, long-suffering.

Sieun's suffering doesn't end there. 

He sits, legs dangling off the side of the hospital bed, eyes glazed over in soulless exhaustion as Suho hugs him and sniffs at him like an excited, oversized puppy.

“Sieun-ah, so you really like me? How much? Since when?” 

It's the nth time he's asked that question since the kiss. 

He can almost see Suho's tail wagging in happy delight. 

He looks away and refuses to admit that he finds it endearing. No, he's tired. 

Suho's slow to process it, at first. The fragility of the night that bled into the following morning made it so that his mind was shrouded in a pleasantly soppy fog. 

It sinks in, rather, it assembles itself a little jankily, like tetris blocks—the knowledge that Sieun really does like him. It’s in the way his face pinkens, his wide-eyed stares, his shaky touch that feels monumental every time it lands on Suho’s hand, on his cheek. In his hair, as he'd pulled him down into that kiss.

Even this fractured, disbelieving understanding sends him reeling into the edges of the atmosphere. That Sieun would kiss him, and let Suho hold him, and also hold him in return. That he also feels his heart flutter when he thinks of Suho.

Yeon Sieun reciprocates his feelings. It sends him on a high, floating somewhere high above the clouds. He can't come back down. He never wants to come back down.

He catches himself looking at Sieun, and thinking, I could kiss him right now if I wanted to. And he'd like it, probably. And he wants to kiss me too. And maybe do more than… And he wants to date me, probably. Does he? Would he like being called my lover?

The thought colors Suho’s face a bright, flaming red. 

It's an exhilarating feeling. It's the newness of it all. And the disbelief that lines it. 

Three days before discharge, they take him off his drips. Now a free man, he practically becomes Sieun's shadow, attached at the hip. 

He back-hugs Sieun after lunch, sneaking up on him where he's standing at the food trolley, giddiness in his voice as he rests his head on Sieun's shoulder. “Sieun-ah, do you find me cute? You think I'm handsome?” 

Sieun stiffens, then sighs, beleaguered. 

“How would you rate me, on a scale of one to ten?” 

“...”

“Hm?” Suho tilts his head on Sieun’s shoulder, gaze expectant.

“Move.” 

As Suho’s eating, mouth full of food: “Am I sexy?”

Sieun stuffs the spoon to its brim and shoves it into his mouth. It's his biggest spoonful yet. 

It comes to a head when Suho is hovering behind Sieun as he brushes his teeth in the washroom, blabbering away. “Was it when you saw how cool I was, beating up that baseball team? Or was it when I came to help you out when Seokdae and his cronies were targeting you? Or was it—”

Sieun spits into the sink, hands gripping the corners with increasing force, turning his knuckles white.

“Suho-ya,” he murmurs, slowly raising his head. When he meets Suho’s gaze through the mirror, his eyes are dark and hooded.

“Yeah?” Suho titters nervously.

He suddenly turns, pushing Suho into the wall behind him with a hand to his shoulder. Suho goes with a light oomph. 

Yeon Sieun looks at him with murder in his eyes. 

Suho’s not embarrassed to admit that it makes him a little dizzy. 

Sieun’s palm settles against the wall above Suho’s shoulder. He takes a step closer and murmurs, “Don’t push it.”

Suho gulps. “Okay.”

They’re at a standstill for a few seconds, before Sieun begins to pull away.

But Suho catches his falling wrist, and pulls him in even closer. Sieun’s eyes briefly widen. “What—”

He grabs Sieun by the waist, pupils dilating as he murmurs, “Sieun-ah, that was sexy.”

Sieun reddens. 

“Kinda crazy, like a psychopath,”

He wraps his arm around Sieun’s waist, pulling them flush against each other. Sieun begins to squirm. 

“Mm,” Suho ponders, holding onto that squirming body with surprising ease. Sieun’s wrist is wound tight in Suho’s hand, even as he tries to raise it and detach from Suho’s grip. “More like a shameless brat, actually,”

“You—”

“You’re so cute, I wanna put you in my pocket.”

Sieun gives up, slumping against Suho in defeat as he leans in to sniff at the side of his face, nudges his nose into his ear and into his freshly shampooed hair. It’s still the same baby shampoo. The scent makes his heart squeeze tight with fondness.

Suho lets out a dreamy sigh. 

“I’ll keep you there forever.”

When Suho pulls back and puckers his lips for a kiss, Sieun finally escapes his hold. He slides out from under, going stomping into the room with a rigid petulance in his step.

Suho slumps against the wall and smiles, endeared. 

Suho wakes up from a nap the following day to the sound of the hospital room door slamming shut. 

He pries his eyes open, staring at Sieun’s blurred silhouette in the doorway. It’s evening, and the last rays of the winter sun are shining bleakly into the room. 

“Sieun-ah?” he rasps. 

“Sorry,” comes the reply. 

As Suho’s vision comes into focus, he realizes he can’t really see all that well into the distance. He pushes the thought aside, however, when he sees the stormy expression on Sieun’s face as he walks closer.

Suho sits up. “What’s wrong?”

Sieun doesn’t reply, only goes to fill a glass with water and hastily gulps it. 

Suho waits.

When Sieun turns back around, he holds out his arms. Sieun sighs, shoulders slumping as he walks over. He sits on the bed and goes limp as he lets Suho pull him into his waiting arms. 

“Do I need to fight someone?”

Sieun lifts his head from where it’s resting sideways on Suho’s shoulder. He doesn’t smile, but he has the tiniest twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he murmurs, “Yeah.”

“Who? I’ll go right away.”

“My mom.”

“...”

Suho’s spine straightens involuntarily. “Ah,” He remembers the last encounter he had with her, and gulps. “I’ll pass.”

Sieun huffs.

“But,” Suho then strokes a light hand down Sieun’s back, “what happened, though?”

“Nothing,” Sieun mumbles as he lets his head slump back onto Suho’s shoulder. Suho nudges against the back of Sieun’s head. “She’s just…”

“Worried about you?” 

Sieun shrugs. “It’s always either neglect or control with her. I told her to pick a side.”

Suho cringes. “Sieun-ah…”

A pause.

Sieun lifts his head again and gives him a good look. “What is it?”

“Ah…” Suho doesn’t know how to breach the subject. He decides to dive into it headfirst and then assess damages later. “She knows.”

“About what?” Sieun’s eyes narrow. 

“That I’m in… That I think of you as more than a friend.” Suho gulps. “She kinda confronted me about it, after I brought you home that night you got drunk.”

Sieun blinks at him in shock. He doesn’t move.

Suho clears his throat. “She asked me what my intentions were with you. I couldn’t lie. I’m sorry.”

When he doesn’t get a response, Suho searches Sieun’s face. 

“Oh.” is all he says, as he stares at nothing, blinking all the while, something like realization settling into his features. 

Suho opens his mouth to follow up, then, as he sees the scary blankness on Sieun's face, he pragmatically elects to remain confused about it for now. 

Inhye and team come to visit two days before discharge. 

Hyesung gives him a warm hug, and Subin gets teary-eyed as she clutches at Suho’s hand. “We’re so glad you’re okay. We didn’t want to invade, but Sieun’s been keeping the boss updated.” 

Inhye pats him on his upper arm, her eyebags deeper than usual. “We were so worried.”

Suho grins at them. “Thanks for coming. Hope I’m not out of a job yet, boss.”

Inhye cackles. “Twerp. Your face was driving my business. Get better soon.”

Suho shoots her a shit-eating grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

When he looks over her shoulder at Sieun, standing at the back with the ghost of a sweet smile playing on his face, his heart skips a beat.

When they leave, Sieun comes up to his bedside, and lingers.

Before Suho can ask, he suddenly finds himself with an armful of Sieun, his heavy weight sinking into his chest. He blinks as his arms bundle around that warmth.

It’s gone as soon as it came. 

Sieun walks away, ears tinged red. 

Love pours out of Sieun. It takes different shapes, molds itself into different forms: devotion, guilt, grief, patience, longing. 

It coalesces into one and he breathes it out with every exhale, every action, every glance. 

It's as if a switch has flipped, as if someone has unplugged a tap that was fit to burst. 

Seeing Suho in that hospital bed again, unresponsive, as if he was back in that eternal sleep that had ripped him away from Sieun all those years ago, it was devastating. 

And in that awful resurgence of grief, guilt and bone-wracking terror, rose an unparalleled determination. It was persistent. It ran through his body in droves. 

Devotion.

Devotion, like he's never felt before, as he watches Suho laugh, so light, so free. The nurses are always so besotted with him, enamored by his charming, easy-going gait. As if he's in for a minor scrape, rather than a brain that had to spend two years in a coma to stitch itself back together. How he carries himself with confidence and light. 

Sieun wants to be embraced by that light. 

He's never wanted anything this much. 

And when Suho had said that he didn't need Sieun's guilt, it stung. But it had made Sieun realize that what he'd needed, what he needs right now, is love, and all its derivatives: patience, support, presence.

All that was previously so unfamiliar to Sieun. 

That which he'd never received all that much, growing up. Scarcely, in fact, only when it suited someone else's selfish need.

All he'd ever known was absence. Abandonment, first from those around him, and then eventually, from his own self. A betrayal that he never quite recovered from.

But it's easy to echo, it's easy to reflect that which is already given to him now, every day. The care, the aching love, the devotion. Even if he doesn't quite understand why it's given to him, just yet. 

He tries. His body is slow to adapt to it. Expressing affection is a leap of faith that he has to take every time. But every time he lands in Suho's arms, it's reassurance. 

And Suho never fails to catch him. 

Suho, alive. 

Smiling at him, holding out his arms.  

It makes him feel brave, makes him feel so strong. And so wanted.

And so warm.

“Sieun-ah, what are we?”

Sieun looks away from his book and shoots him a sideways glance, expression unaffected and languid.

When he only receives a mild blink in response, Suho’s face twitches into an equally mild smile where he’s laying next to Sieun, bathing in the light of the afternoon sun. 

He’s got both his hands folded under his face as he gazes at Sieun. “Ah,” Suho laughs, “I guess we’ve never really been just friends, have we?”

Sieun purses his lips in thought, letting the book lay flat on his chest as he ponders. Then, “I don’t have enough understanding of what entails friendship to help you define that.”

Suho raises a brow. “Bullshit. You’re acting like you have no friends.”

Sieun hesitates. “I didn’t when we met.”

Suho, “You can define it now, then. If you want.”

Suho lets the silence stretch as Sieun raises his eyes to the ceiling. He’s content with admiring the gentle arch of his nose, in the meantime. His lovely mouth, the soft, naturally pinkened flush of his ears. His eyes, wide and watery, deep in thought.  

Finally, “I feel the same warmth when I look at them, and you.”

“Is that right?” 

Sieun nods, rigid. He's reluctant to say the words out loud, Suho realizes. 

“The same? You’re sure?”

Sieun’s eyes turn on him once more, then he stutters, “Yeah, but… It’s also different…”

Suho finally lets the smile slip out fully, amusement lining the corners of his eyes. He’s so fucking cute that I could die, he thinks, as he slides his arm over Sieun’s torso, letting it weigh heavy. He gets it. He also can’t help but tease. “I’m hurt,” he murmurs, as he lifts up, inches closer to Sieun’s face.

Sieun’s breath audibly stutters. His inhales take on a sharper form.

He curls over Sieun, his hand slipping under the blanket where it's rucked up against Sieun’s hip. “You’re telling me I'm not special?”

He leans his head against his curled fist, resting on an elbow as he peers down at Sieun. 

“Hm?”

Sieun slowly flushes, spreading from his neck to the tips of his ears. “That’s not what I meant,”

“I want to be different from your friends.”

Sieun’s really struggling now, and it’s unbearably sweet. He averts his gaze. “You are.”

“I am?” Suho’s tone adopts a warm lilt. What a joy to be able to render Yeon Sieun so flustered. His seventeen year old self delights in it. “How so?”

Sieun’s brows furrow. He still refuses to meet Suho’s gaze. “You know how.”

“Do I?” Suho wants to soothe the frown from his face, so he unwraps the arm around his torso to reach up and run his thumb along Sieun’s brow bone. 

Sieun looks up as he does this. Suho’s breath is taken away. 

And then, Sieun looks down at his lips, then back up at his eyes. 

Suho finds himself inching closer unconsciously. 

At the last second, Sieun purses his lips and turns his face away slightly. For Suho, it’s enough. He pulls back a little and murmurs, “Sieun-ah,” Sieun’s breathing turns heavy, “won’t you let me kiss you?”

Sieun shakes his head, as if final. “Not at the hospital.”

Suho groans, then laughs. “No, I mean, why? Seriously. You know you’re the only reason I wouldn’t mind coming here everyday now? I’ve just been thinking about when you kissed me the entire time since it happened. I love hospitals now. I’m crazy about them.”

Sieun’s mouth twitches. “You’re crazy.” Then, he reluctantly continues, “The senior nurse requested.”

Suho blinks. “Requested what?”

“That we don’t… Do all that. Here.”

Suho stares at him for one hysterical moment, then pictures that awkward interaction, and starts laughing in earnest. 

Sieun doesn't know what love means to other people. What it feels like, or the shape it takes. 

He only banks on the things he knows. Tangible, real: the way Suho's arm feels when it rests slack on his waist. The steady beat of his heart that sometimes quickens, even when Sieun does something as small as run his fingers through his hair, or lightly touch his arm. The way his eyes soften when he looks at Sieun, like he matters. Like his existence makes a difference. Like he makes him happy. 

The way that makes him feel: endlessly warm, achingly dizzy and feverish. 

And deeper than that, baser, more primal: the way he makes Sieun feel like he exists. He didn't quite exist before Suho, didn't know how. Sieun floated through life, stifled, muted. He didn't have much to say, because he didn't have anyone to say it to. He didn't want to talk to people, because talking to people meant acknowledging that he exists. And that they exist. It was draining. He’d gotten used to the peace, the monotony of being alone.

Sieun likes existing now. He sleeps, deeper than he ever has before. He wakes up with energy, and doesn't have to reach into the dredges to muster it up somehow, to get through the day. He likes... being. 

He likes having friends. He wants to be present for them, even though he doesn’t quite know how, sometimes. He wants to try, regardless. He wants to give his mother a chance. 

He wants to be better. Not just for Suho, but for himself. That’s what takes him by surprise: that it’s mostly for himself. He comes to realize that it means learning how to undo those knots of self-betrayal, and acknowledging emotions that were previously dampened and left to gather dust in the darkest corners, where no one could see. It’s difficult, but it's still movement.

It makes him feel more rounded, more whole, more like a person. He likes himself better when he’s around Suho. He likes himself better, even when he isn’t around Suho.

It's good. 

He checks that Suho's still sleeping, then nuzzles further into his warmth, like it's a secret. 

It's very good.

They skirt around it. 

It’s clear as day, what it is. The brevity of language can’t seem to do justice to the sheer depth of their affection, so they communicate in touch, in stolen glances during the invasive light of day, when they have to let other people in, and then openly under the low light of the bedside lamp, when Sieun inevitably folds in. 

There, the night before discharge, Sieun lets Suho teach him a language otherwise unfamiliar to him. 

Suho links their hands and fingers together, and Sieun watches as they gently dance together. Sieun’s awkward fingers try to follow, stilted and unsure.  

Suho begins to understand the hesitancy. He also comes to understand Sieun’s courage in initiation. His love deepens all the more for it. 

Sieun’s fingers pinken under his featherlight touch. His breath hitches. He refuses to look at him, as Suho runs over the sensitive gaps between Sieun’s fingers. It’s awkward for Suho, too—it’s his first time, indulging in touch as intimate and tender as this. It makes his heart shiver.

“Ticklish,” Sieun whispers.

“Don’t like it?” Suho lowers his voice to match Sieun’s. He begins to pull away.

Sieun’s fingers reach forward before he has the chance to think, slipping through Suho’s and tightening his grip. “Don’t,” he says. Suho doesn’t have to look to know he’s flushed, neck to the tips of his ears. 

He lets his mouth curl into an amused, hopelessly endeared smile. 

He nudges his thumb under the bed of Sieun’s palm, and strokes the inside of his wrist, slow and soft.

Sieun’s next exhale is shaky.  

It’s heady.

And so, they continue this intimate dance.

A light palm on Sieun’s lower back as he helps file Suho’s discharge papers. 

A hand, reaching out into the gap between them in the cab, nudging lightly against Sieun’s knuckles with his fingers. Pleasant surprise, when Sieun twines their fingers together. 

An affectionate ruffle of Sieun’s hair as the cab pulls up to Suho’s house, and Sieun positions himself to get out in order to help Halmeoni, who’s seated in the front. 

And then, 

A long, drawn-out hug, standing right in the middle of Suho’s room. Behind closed doors. 

It isn’t hot and heady, it isn’t a rush of arousal that has them kissing desperately. Instead, it’s Sieun’s tight, tight, tighter hold around his waist, his breaths coming out so warm and heavy against the back of Suho’s shoulder as Sieun melts into him, chest to Suho’s back. Holding on for dear life, as if Suho might slip away from his fingers at a moment’s notice. Until it’s difficult for him to breathe.

“Yeon Sieun,” he murmurs, affection spilling out unbidden. I’m right here, is what’s unsaid. I’m not going anywhere. 

When Sieun doesn’t relent, Suho manages to loosen his grip enough to turn in his embrace, then returns his hug with just as much ferocity, tightening his arms around his shoulders, nudging his head against the top of Sieun’s with just as much force. Yeon Sieun seems to understand and express his affection with an innocence that’s surprising—when he feels its rush, it needs to be expressed in its full, unwavering intensity. Unfiltered. All-consuming. 

It’s new. It’s nothing Suho has ever been at the receiving end of before.

It’s all very heady. 

Sieun’s graduation happens a week after his discharge. Suho spends most of his time recovering: sleeping, stretching and eating. Sieun makes sure that he’s taking his meds. They go to the hospital for a follow-up. It’s exhausting, going to the hospital. Suho doesn’t like it there. 

“If you don’t like it,” Sieun says, tone low and clipped, “then next time, don’t ignore your headache until it’s too late.”

Suho clears his throat and doesn’t argue. 

Sieun also takes Halmeoni to get blood tests done. It turns out she has iron deficiency. Suho has to thank Sieun around the sudden lump that forms in his throat. Halmeoni pulls him down and plants an affectionate kiss against his forehead. Sieun turns a pleased pink and closes his eyes against it. 

The day before Sieun’s graduation, they argue. Sieun thinks Suho should stay at home, and that it’ll be too cold, he’s still too weak, he might have to stand. Suho thinks he’s insane, and he wouldn’t miss it for the world, brain bleed be damned. 

It results in Suho being bundled in six layers of clothing as he steps out the next day. 

A worthy compromise, he thinks as he walks out of the house with Halmoni in tow, stony-faced and determined. 

Sieun graduates. 

He looks right at Suho as he’s handed his certificate, and he smiles with his eyes. Baku, Juntae and Hyuntak whoop and make noise. Sieun’s mom sits with a watery smile on her face, and claps.

It’s awkward with his mom. Neither of them can quite look into each other’s eyes. But she greets Halmeoni with respect, and softly asks if her supplements have been working. It surprises Suho. He doesn't try to hide it. It’s right then that she looks at him and says that she’s glad that he could make it. He can only gulp, and nod in response. 

When Sieun joins them, Suho pulls him into a tight hug, then lets go and ruffles his hair. “Proud of you,” he murmurs, and Sieun gives him a brilliantly soft smile in return. He thinks he hears gasps and frantic whispers from some of the students passing by, but he pays them no mind. 

They go for jjajangmyeon, the four of them. Halmeoni dotes on Sieun the entire time. Sieun’s mom has an odd expression on her face, by the end of it. 

Suho’s too busy teasing Sieun’s feet under the table to pay any real attention to it.

Sieun’s flushed achingly red by the end, and glaring holes into his half-eaten noodles. 

Suho grimaces as his ankle throbs in pain.

Sieun’s mom has a meeting to attend. As they stand outside the restaurant, early-spring chill pinking their cheeks, she runs an affectionate hand through Sieun’s hair, stilted and awkward. “I’ll see you at home,” she says, then pauses as Sieun nods. Then, she steps in, and pulls him into her rigid embrace. He stiffens as he lets himself be hugged, but doesn’t resist. “I’m proud of you.” she whispers, then clears her throat as she lets go. 

Halmeoni watches the exchange with a soft gaze. Suho still does his best to avoid his mom’s eyes. 

Sieun moves into a little studio apartment near university around a month before his first semester starts. The space is a little cramped, and the apartment building is on the top of a steep incline. The only positive is that Sieun’s little place opens up onto a terrace area, since it’s on the last floor of the building. Suho helps him with the move, carrying boxes of his items up the elevator to the fourth floor, and then climbing the last set of steps up to the terrace. 

Sieun’s mom wasn’t all that happy with the location he’d ended up choosing, but reluctantly agreed when he was adamant about wanting it. Suho couldn’t understand it, but he nodded like he did, when Sieun unconvincingly said, “It’s cozy.”

In truth, Sieun’s parents could’ve afforded a bigger, nicer place, or even the university dorms. Still, Suho doesn’t think Sieun chose the place because he wanted to lessen the financial burden. 

Suho huffs as he places the last box on the floor. The little studio is pretty nice: a bed on the far end, with a window on the east side to let the sunlight in, and an open kitchen next to the doorway. The inside’s been refurbished a little bit, even though the building easily looks more than thirty years old. The sink, faucets and lights are all newer and shinier, and the walls are painted a stark white. 

Suho likes the terrace the best, though. It’s decently wide, and has a nice view of the street and buildings around it. There’s an extended upper area too, with a little ledge to sit on, and a small iron staircase that leads to it. 

By the time they’ve unpacked half of the boxes, the evening is already setting in. They climb the steps up to the ledge and sit with warm tea that Suho had boiled on the induction stove. 

“Are you excited?” Suho asks.

Sieun sips at his tea and shrugs. “Yeah.” The sun begins to set, its warm orange hues contrasting with the chilly breeze that ruffles their hair. “I told her I didn’t want to live with her.” Suho’s eyes flit to Sieun, who looks down at the mug cradled in his hands, playing with the string of the instant sachet. “I didn’t expect her to be… She looked sad about it, but she said okay.”

Suho exhales heavily, and looks into his own mug. “Well, they do say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.” 

“Yeah.” Sieun’s voice clouds as he murmurs, “I don’t know why, but part of me wanted her to fight for me to stay. Even though I don’t want to live with her.” 

Suho hums. “Maybe she’s just trying to do right by you.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in reflective silence. Then,

“Well, you don’t have to worry about loneliness, since I’ll be bothering you pretty often,” Suho laughs nervously, then stutters, “If you’ll have me, that is,”

Sieun only shoots him an amused little eye-smile. “You like the terrace.” he says. 

Suho rubs the back of his head. “I do, yeah. It’s great.”

Sieun looks back out into the sunset and raises his mug to take another sip, a pleased glint in his eyes. “Good.”

Later, as they unpack the rest of the boxes, Suho spots a fridge magnet from the aquarium in Gangneung, and laughs fondly as he fishes it out. It’s a little whale, riding a blue wave. He gets up and goes to stick it on the refrigerator door. Sieun watches from his spot on the floor.

When he turns, he asks, “Do you want to visit the coast before university starts?”

Sieun thinks about it, biting his lower lip.

“We can go somewhere nearby, to Incheon. Make it a daytrip.”

At this, Sieun finally nods. “Okay.”

Suho finds that kissing is… Well, it’s pretty awkward, trying to find an opening. He either fumbles it at the last second, or he hesitates too long on a moment and it passes. 

As for Sieun, it seems that his courage had fizzled out after the initial first kiss. 

So it means that they're left throwing each other longing glances from a distance. Or at least, Suho is. He realizes after a while that Sieun just looks at his mouth sometimes, then looks away as if he's been deeply insulted. It's cute. And a bit unbearable, and also… oddly unnerving. 

It's deeply unbearable, for Sieun.

In his head, they've already kissed a hundred times. Maybe even more. It's difficult to forget the imprint of Suho's lips against his: warm, sticky, and overstimulating. 

His deep breaths, as they landed right on Sieun's cupid's bow. The lightheadedness when he'd been pushed onto the bed, and the intensity of the pecks that followed. The way Sieun’s heart almost beat right out of his chest.

He craves it the most right before he goes to sleep, as his eyes slip closed. 

He's never felt like this about anyone before. The very thought is overstimulating. The feeling sits and stirs uncomfortably in his chest until he’s lightheaded from the ache, and it doesn’t go anywhere, despite his efforts. He doesn't know what to do in a situation like this. He doesn't know how to ask for it, either. And when he tries to be forward about it, something stops him.

The hesitation is unbearable. Especially when Suho is right next to him, or around him. 

Sieun never thought he'd be drawn to someone's scent. But Suho smells really good, too. Every time he's mustered up the courage to embrace him, Sieun's been reluctant to let go. And it's solely because of his scent—heady, and addictive, yet so soft and subtle. Subtle enough that Sieun has to push in as close as he can, to…

Sieun turns over in his bed, ears tinged red, eyes carefully blank, and he hopes and prays to whatever entity is out there that Suho never finds out. 

Suho can only take so much. 

Once he finally noticed, and realized what Sieun’s looks mean, he’s more or less attuned to it whenever it happens. It happens a lot more often after Suho starts helping buy Sieun’s groceries and making dinner for him, worried about his nutrition now that he’s living all alone. Halmeoni nags, too. Suho’s a quicker learner—he usually riffs off of recipes he finds online, or uses his intuition that stems from his exposure to Halmeoni’s cooking. 

Suho sometimes comes directly to Sieun’s from physiotherapy, and they eat dinner together. One evening, Suho’s standing at the island counter, freshly showered and hair still damp, towel slung around his neck as he chops ingredients for jjigae. Sieun sits at the low table near his bed, legs folded under him as he types away on his laptop, indolent gaze sneaking glances at Suho when he thinks he isn’t looking. 

When Suho catches him, he immediately looks away, shifty eyes gazing blankly into his too-bright laptop screen. Suho resists the smile that twitches onto his face. 

Once Sieun’s done clicking and typing away, he comes to join Suho in the kitchen, and mumbles, “Need help with anything?”

“You’ll make rice?” Suho shoots him a smile as he pours the ingredients from the chopping board into the boiling stew.

Sieun nods. 

Sieun doesn’t know how to make rice. 

When he moves to rinse it the third time, Suho does a double take, then immediately goes to pull the pot out from under the stream of flowing water. “Yeon Sieun—you don’t need to rinse it that much, just once is fine—”

His words come to a stuttering halt when he finds Sieun looking up at him, making an odd face. With a start, he realizes his hand is wrapped over Sieun’s, gripping it tight, as he leans in from behind him. Suho’s other hand has subconsciously landed on his lower back in the meantime, pressing into his spine. He lets go, then mumbles, “You’ll strip away all the nutrients,” gesturing towards the damp rice.

They stare at each other. Then, slowly, he realizes that Sieun’s giving him that look.

As Suho’s mind goes blank, Sieun blinks, then mumbles, “Okay.” 

He looks away, moving to place the pot inside the rice cooker. 

Suho can’t take it anymore. 

When he’s done with the jjigae, he finds Sieun standing at the counter, having helped arrange the side dishes, and cut tofu into awkward, blocky slices. 

He’s giving him that look again. 

In quick succession: Suho arranges the tofu in the boiling stew, drizzles the leftover green onion on top, switches off the heat, and turns. 

Sieun looks at him like a deer caught in headlights.

Enough is enough.

Suho's gaze turns lidded as he stares back at Sieun. “Yeon Sieun,” he murmurs, “how long are you going to keep staring at me like that?” 

“Like what?” 

Sieun’s breaths turn unsteady.

“You know it drives me crazy,” Suho takes a step forward, and then another. Sieun steps backward in tandem. 

“I don't know what—” 

“Go on, ask me.” Sieun’s back soon hits the kitchen wall. Suho bridges the gap.

A beat. 

“Huh?” 

“Ask me, say, ‘Suho-ya, kiss me’.” His mouth curls into a fiendish smirk, but his eyes are hooded, and his gaze is hungry. 

Sieun's eyes darken as he's crowded against the wall. He clenches his jaw as he averts them, and murmurs, “Who said I want you to kiss me,” 

A whisper: “So you don't want it?” 

Suho's thumb moves to grip at Sieun's chin, lifting it. Sieun's breath stutters as Suho draws closer,  whispering, “Say ‘hyung, I need it’,” 

His fingers curl around the back of Sieun’s neck. “Say ‘please’,”

Sieun stares and stares at Suho’s mouth, as if hypnotized. It’s hard to gauge whether he registers what Suho’s saying.

A sudden noise makes the both of them startle. It’s the electric rice cooker, singing its ending tune. 

Suho’s pushed off with a suddenness that has him blinking. Yeon Sieun’s eyes look strained as he murmurs, “Don’t make me curse at you.”

He’s gone before Suho can even register anything. 

Sieun doesn’t mean for it to become so difficult. He finds that he keeps having knee-jerk reactions. Sometimes, quite literally.

In his mind, as he goes to sleep at night, he replays Suho’s voice whispering to him, the way Suho’s eyes went dark and hooded, his scent as he crowded in and gripped at Sieun’s chin. 

It was overstimulating. All his senses were crowded.

It’s overstimulating just to recall it. 

He pulls the pillow over his head in resignation.

One night, Suho leaves his hoodie behind.

Sieun holds it up in his hands, and spends a long time glaring at it, as if it’s offended his entire bloodline. 

When Sieun answers the door the next morning, Suho’s knees nearly give out. 

Yeon Sieun is wearing his hoodie. He swims in it. He looks so soft.

He’s worn my clothes before, he thinks, as he watches Sieun move around in it nonchalantly, so why is this so… 

It’s suddenly so intimate. 

He finds himself unbearably, embarrassingly turned on. It’s grating. He finds that even splashing ice-cold water onto his face doesn’t seem to help.

When Sieun helps with breakfast that morning, it’s torture. 

Suho teaches him how to make his egg fluff in his ramyeon, one evening.

He stands behind him, folding the noodles over to the side in the pot, and pouring the beaten egg into the side. He says something as he watches it rise. Sieun can’t hear it over the blood roaring in his ears. 

Suho’s scent surrounds him. This close, it's cloying, and seeps in even through the strong fumes of boiling ramyeon. His arm grazes Sieun’s waist as he leans in.

When his other hand comes to rest at Sieun’s waist, Sieun jumps and jerks his knee against the cabinet.

Suho startles, stepping back and frantically asking, “Sieun-ah, you okay?”

Sieun only grips at the edges of the counter, face growing increasingly red, knee throbbing violently.

He wishes for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Suho doesn’t forget his hoodie that night.

Instead, he takes it back home, inhales Sieun’s scent mixed in with his, and takes a long moment to reflect on himself.

Suho reflects, and then decides he isn’t strong enough. He stands next to Sieun as he's boiling noodles, back against the counter, and tilts his head towards him. “Yeon Sieun, would you have me beg?” 

Sieun only shoots him a sideways glance. 

“I give up. I’m sorry. Please, will you kiss me? Spare me a kiss?” 

Sieun hums. 

A pause, then, a flat stare as he lightly mumbles,

“Say ‘hyung, please’.”

This bastard. 

Suho’s entire face begins to twitch. But Sieun just delicately folds the noodles over as it boils, and pours the beaten egg into the side, just like Suho taught him.

Finally, teeth gritting into a lifeless smile, he manages, “Hyung, please.”

Sieun slowly places the chopsticks against the counter, then looks up at Suho as if he’s won some undeclared competition. Suho resists the urge to crush him. 

Then, Sieun finally musters up the courage, pulls him in by his shirt, and plants a brief kiss against his lips. It’s shy, and quick. 

Suho feels the lingering imprint of that soft mouth after what seems like an eternity of waiting, and sinks down against the cabinets in bliss. “Finally. Thank you,” he murmurs, eyes dazed as he gazes up at the ceiling, “So worth it. Am I in heaven?” 

Sieun scoffs down at him, and continues stirring his ramyeon. “Pathetic.” 

But his ears are flushed painfully red, and he’s biting his lower lip. 

“I am.” Suho winds a hand around Sieun's ankle, then leans forward to press a kiss against the side of his thigh, through his thin joggers. 

Sieun's leg involuntarily kicks out, right into Suho's waist. He goes groaning, clutching at his side as Sieun scrambles in panic. “Are you—sorry, I—”

“No,” Suho wheezes, gripping onto Sieun’s hastily offered hand. “You’ll have to kiss it better—ah, ah—I’m kidding, please let go, fuck! That hurts—”

Suho doesn’t push it. 

He doesn’t want to scare Sieun off, or do anything that would make him uncomfortable. He lets Sieun take the lead in expressing his affection, rare and hesitant as it is. It’s sweet when he does, frustrating as it is to hold back. It nearly takes all the strength he has sometimes. But still—Suho thinks it’s the right thing to do. 

Sieun wants to die.

Suho notes that Sieun’s also less open to being affectionate around their friends, all of a sudden. As they all crowd around on the floor and eat a little house-warming meal together, Sieun flushes the deepest red when Suho offers him a wrap, as he usually does. He doesn’t move to take a bite. 

Suho blinks for a few moments, then sets it awkwardly in Sieun’s instant ramyeon cup instead. It rests on top of the steaming noodles, slowly unfurling.

Juntae, ever-so-perceptive, tilts his head at the scene and shoots Suho an inquisitive look. 

Suho averts his eyes, and stuffs his face. He can adjust to this, too.

Sieun really wants to die. 

Juntae pulls Sieun off to the side later, when they decide to sit outside on the terrace to chat as the night sets in. 

They’re on their way out with chilled drinks in hand, when Juntae stops him with a hand to his forearm. 

“Sieun-ah,” he says, giving Sieun a hesitant look. 

Sieun pauses, then turns to look at him. He worries his lower lip, then he adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. It’s endearing. Sieun blinks as he waits. “Yeah?”

“We don’t want to… interfere, but we noticed… is everything okay with you and Suho?” he whispers.

Sieun goes blank. 

He wonders if he’s dead and already in hell.

Chapter Text

Loneliness—a familiar friend, ever-present in the threads of Suho’s life. 

In the silence after every punch of his fist against the boxing bag, all the nights he’d be up training.

In fleeting thoughts of his parents, as he’d zone out on his delivery bike, on a late-night ride.

When he’d fall asleep in class, and they’d forget to wake him up sometimes. 

As he’d tilt his head, and stare at the bookworm’s back, hunched over his exam paper, earbuds plugged in and tuned out to the rest of the world. 

When he was staring at that same boy’s hand, hidden unconvincingly behind his back. Insisting that he was fine. 

When Suho couldn’t find his voice, then. And he’d walked away, chest aching. 

Love—a feeling that Suho has always unknowingly chased.

He finds it now, easily:

In the nooks and crannies of Sieun’s sweet, unpracticed expressions. 

In Halmeoni’s warm, indulgent dishes.

It’s both overwhelmingly big, and infinitesimally small.

It’s Halmeoni, pressing a warm kiss into the crown of his head, her shaky hands soothing over the crinkles in his cotton shirt. He learned discipline and love from her, at a young age. 

It’s Sieun, silently fretting over him as they sit on the terrace ledge, restless and unsettled until he goes inside to grab him a jacket. Only relaxing when Suho shrugs it on. Turning red when Suho presses a kiss against his shoulder in thanks. 

It’s all-encompassing, those nights that he lay awake, missing Sieun intensely, despite having seen him only a few hours prior.

It’s that incomprehensible dream, with the rays of comforting light, and that indolent voice.  

Friendship—something Suho thought he could do without. 

Now: it’s Youngyi, pinging him at random hours of the night, nagging him about something or other, or supplying him with endless food recommendations. It’s Hyuntak, occasionally forwarding a YouTube video on a new stretch that always seems to help.

Baku, and his boisterous assurances. Juntae, and his soft, sweet understanding, and silent support. 

It’s Sieun, smiling softly from across the room, as Suho makes his way over to his bed, bowl of microwaved popcorn in hand. Laughing softly with him, staring at him distastefully, or in amusement, as Suho pretends he isn’t crying. 

Colorful, loud, silent.

Present. 

The night is cold. Their bodies are warm little fireplaces, crackling and burning in the dead of night, creating a pocket of cozy warmth. They’re sitting on the terrace ledge. It’s become a favorite spot of theirs, where they can share stories, talk about anything and nothing. The world stretches out before them, wide and endless, with infinite possibilities. They’re twenty, and life feels like it’s worth living. 

Sieun sits in front of Suho tonight, leaning into his chest. Suho sways them in place, letting gravity pull their weight this way and that, slow and steady. 

This time of the night, it’s so quiet that they can hear the 90s music that their downstairs neighbour is playing. It floats up through their balcony, audible enough for Suho to hum along with it.

Sieun stays unresponsive for long enough that Suho begins to wonder if he’s asleep. But then, he whispers, “You have to stay healthy.”

“Hm?”

Sieun shifts in place. 

“I’ll learn how to cook well.”

Suho huffs a light laugh. “Yeah?”

Sieun nods. 

Sometimes, Sieun will randomly bring up something related to Suho’s health, and taking care of himself, and every time, Suho can’t help but think, Yeon Sieun, you’ve grown up well. 

“I can’t believe you’re starting college soon. Ah, where did the time go? Feels like it was just yesterday that you were sitting all by yourself, head buried in your book in class, and I was worrying about you—”

“Why?”

Suho abruptly stops. Sieun pulls off, and turns his upper body to face Suho. 

“What do you mean, why?”

“Why were you worrying about me?”

“Sieun-ah…” Suho gets a serious look on his face as he looks into Sieun’s eyes, “you have to understand,”

Suho leans in. Sieun’s eyes are trained on him in rapt interest. 

“This face,” he pokes his cheek, “it’s a national treasure. It needs to be protected.”

Sieun’s eyes go dull. Suho says, solemnly, as he grabs Sieun’s chin in his hand, “Who made you this criminally pretty, huh? With your big eyes, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Suho begins to notice little things, now that Sieun lives alone. At first, he chalked it up as one-off occurrences. But slowly, as patterns began to emerge, he began to connect the dots: Sieun laughs a little louder, smiles a little wider, shows his emotions on his face a little better. 

He waits by the door as Suho arrives, sometimes. When Suho realizes, he pulls Sieun into an affectionate hug, and smacks a kiss against his warm cheek, and he goes scurrying away. Sieun always follows Suho to the kitchen, feet shuffling against the tile, and he sits propped on the counter as he recounts his day, mellow and warm, legs swinging back and forth in increments.

Suho usually asks questions, and Sieun follows them up with answers. Then, Sieun begins to ask them back, and Suho answers, spinning off into stories that make the corners of Sieun’s mouth twitch. 

One day, Sieun’s drying his clothes out on the terrace, as Suho sits on the ledge and drinks some warm herbal concoction that Halmeoni made for him. Sieun's neighbours are playing old music again. Suho scrolls through his phone, responding to texts from Baku and Youngyi, when soft humming drifts into his ears. At first, it only registers subconsciously. 

As he realizes, his thumb pauses over the keyboard. 

Humming. 

Suho looks up, breath caught in his throat, disbelief lining his face.

Yeon Sieun is humming, dulcet tones carried by the breeze, horrendously off-pitch. 

When Sieun joins him to sit on the ledge later, he shoots him an inquisitive look as he climbs up the stairs, steps heavy. 

Suho shakes his head, and pulls him down as soon as he comes to stand next to where Suho is sitting. When Sieun sits down with a plop, Suho presses a small kiss against his lips. It makes Sieun’s breath catch. “What’s with you?” he asks, as Suho pulls away. It still makes him so shy that it’s endearing. 

Suho shakes his head. “Nothing.”

After a comfortable silence, Suho mumbles, “You know, I still can’t believe it. I never thought I’d get to have this.”

“Have what?”

“You. This,” he gestures between them, “you know what I mean.”

Sieun hums, then hesitates. “Suho-ya,”

Suho turns to look at him. 

“You said earlier, that you’d told my mom.” 

“Ah, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you…”

Loneliness. The fear of loss. 

Suho thinks it through for a while.

Then, 

“Dunno,” he mumbles. “I’d lost my parents once, I guess I just didn’t want to lose the one good thing in my life.”

He continues, “I always thought I had nothing to lose, before. That I’d lost nearly everything someone could possibly lose in life: my parents, and then money. What else could someone like me possibly lose, right? I was lucky enough to keep my grandma, and her house.”

“But then, I met you. And Beomseok, and Youngyi. And then I realized, I could lose friends. And I did. And then, I nearly lost my own life, too. When I got it back, I had nearly nothing left, but oddly, I suddenly had everything to lose. Most of all, you.”

Sieun looks at him for a long time, his eyes carrying misery in abundance. Suho huffs, then pokes his cheek. “Well, thankfully, it worked out. Didn’t it? Mostly, at least.”

He knows they’re both thinking about Beomseok again. 

He decides to sit in that thought, instead of banishing it and trying to hastily change the subject, for once. 

Then, into the silence, Sieun whispers,

“I’m sorry that he hurt you.” 

His voice is choked. 

“I’m sorry that I hurt him.” Sieun’s gaze flits up to Suho’s, surprised. “Can you believe it? I feel sorry for the basta—for him. In fact, I feel more sorry than I feel resentful.” Suho laughs, and it’s hollow, and empty. “I’m sorry that he was hurt, by whoever hurt him in life. What a sad fucking way to live.”

Suho finally looks back at Sieun, pained. “Isn’t that how you’ve felt, this entire time? Sieun-ah,” Sieun doesn’t respond. They stare at each other, teary-eyed, features marred with regret. “It’s okay. You can feel sorry for him. Who am I to say anything about it? He nearly took my life, and I’m the one feeling sorry for him. Fate must be laughing at me.” He scoffs in bitter disbelief.

He briefly wonders how his seventeen year old self would’ve felt. Angry, unforgiving. Enraged. Hurt, most of all. He’s still hurt. Hurting. But it’s an ache that he’s slowly learning to detach from, persistent as it is. “Well, you probably understood him better than I ever did. Or tried to, at least.”

“I did.” Sieun says, quietly, as if confessing. He exhales, long and pained. “I understood his pain, and his resentment. Not towards you,” Sieun clarifies, “but towards life in general, I guess. Those who had wronged him, or hurt him, in the past. I also just… I wanted the pain to stop.”

Suho sighs. “I always thought he came from abundance, you know? That he had the power to deal with difficult situations in better ways.” He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. “But… I don’t know. I was immature, too. There are things you only realize in hindsight, but then what? It’s too late.”

Sieun’s misery only intensifies, in the way his back hunches forward, and his head drops to stare into his lap.

“Well,” Suho inhales, and the scent of the fabric detergent from the damp clothes wafts over with the breeze. “Sometimes things happen to us, and you can’t always explain why, or find answers that make sense and complete the story. I’m glad I found you, through that godawful situation. I’d let it happen to me all over again, and again, if it means finding you.”

Sieun’s still looking down at his lap, gaze hazy and lost. 

Suho lifts a finger to nudge below Sieun’s chin, voice soft and pleading. “Won’t you say something? Yeon Sieun.”

Sieun finally looks up.

They stare at each other in simple understanding.

Then, 

“You’ll always have me.” 

Later, as they’re getting up to go inside:

“Well, I’m glad you kissed me, anyway. Otherwise, I don’t know if I would’ve had the balls.”

“But—Suho-ya,” Sieun tilts his head, as if genuinely perplexed about something. “Was it not obvious enough?”

Suho tilts his head, in the opposite direction. “.... What?”

He receives a confused blink in response.

Suho feels like a new chapter of life is opening up. It’s in the air, too: in the early scent of spring, in the lightness of each day. 

He lets himself surrender to the nostalgic, yet simultaneously fresh, feeling of a new beginning.

With Sieun by his side, he realizes there's really nothing to be afraid of, and everything to look forward to.

The weekend before Sieun’s first semester begins, they board a bus to Incheon, just for an excuse to visit the beach. 

It’s a late morning bus. They plan on being back by the evening, in time to eat dinner. 

Suho yawns as he settles next to Sieun, who’s taken the window seat. Sieun looks extra soft and cuddly, and their bus doesn’t seem to be all that crowded.

When they’ve made themselves comfortable, Suho grabs Sieun’s hand and pulls it into his own jacket pocket. Sieun inches closer and returns his grip. It makes Suho’s heart swell. 

When Suho yawns again, Sieun murmurs, “Get some sleep.”

“Huh? Yeah.”

Suho closes his eyes, and sleep comes easy. 

He sinks into blue skies, and warm light.

Suho tries to trace the source of the dream when it occurs again. Bathed in that light, as Yeon Sieun’s voice echoes into his ears like a comforting call. He’s not quite sure why the dream came to him again, perhaps because of the weather that feels so reminiscent of it. The sun that beats down against the bus window, and the deep blue of the clear skies.

When he slowly wakes from sleep, heart beating steady in his chest, Sieun’s head laying on his shoulder, Suho retraces the feeling of being in that serene, beautiful setting.

He spaces out, lost deep in thought. When he looks back down at Sieun, he’s already staring at him with his puffy eyes, half-opened and soft. The bus sways them slightly, the sun’s rays refracting through the glass window. Sieun’s skin has a warm golden glow, hair haloing soft auburn, backlit against the sun’s light. It’s as if Sieun’s melded into a hazy personification of his dream.

“What is it?” Sieun asks.

Suho folds him in, pulls his head against his chest. Sieun doesn’t put up a fight.

“Nothing,” he hesitates, then, “You know, I keep having this recurring dream.”

He clears his throat when Sieun looks up at him, chin resting on his sternum, eyes lidded and his voice soft and indolent as he murmurs, “Of what?”

“Ah…” 

Suddenly, having to put it into words makes it feel a little silly.

“Nevermind. It’s nothing. Look, we’re almost there.”

They grab an early lunch at a small malatang restaurant close to the bus stop, sitting under the eaves on the streetside. 

“Halmeoni would bring me here, the couple times we’ve visited when I was a kid,” Suho says as the ajumeoni places their steaming food on the table, murmuring a soft, ‘enjoy!’ as she walks away. “I can’t believe it still exists.”

Sieun looks at the angry red soup with mild suspicion. 

“It’s nice, don’t worry.”

Later, 

Suho looks up from gobbling his food, and blinks at the sight. 

Sieun’s cheeks are flaming red, and so are his ears. His eyes are a little watery.

Suho tilts his head in confusion. “It’s not that spicy… Is it?”

Sieun rasps, “Take a guess.”

Later, as Sieun sips at his iced tea to cool off, Suho nudges the slightly overgrown bangs off his forehead and sniffles as he finishes off the last of the spicy stir fry. Off-handedly, “Ah, I need to cut my hair.”

He runs his hand through his hair as he pushes it out of his face. 

“You don’t have to.”

A pause.

Suho stops mid-chew.

Sieun’s ears are turning red again, but it isn’t because of the spicy malatang this time. He gulps hastily at his iced tea. 

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Finish up quickly.”

“Uh, yeah.”

They manage to locate an off-beat coffee shop on the way to the beach. It’s hidden near an arcade, in the basement area—dingy, and a little cold, but the locals seem to love it. The corners are piled with old cassette tapes and console video game CDs. A record player bleats an older 90s citypop tune near the counter. Suho pauses as he recognizes it. Im Jaebeom’s ‘After This Night Has Passed’—the same song that Sieun’s downstairs neighbour was playing the other night. He can’t help the little smile that it brings to his face.

Sieun orders a coffee for himself, and Suho gets himself warm herbal tea. Coffee’s off the table now, for him. He wasn’t a regular drinker, anyway. 

They explore the arcade machines sitting outside the cafe, and Suho laughs when he spots a claw machine, pointing at it and elbowing Sieun. 

Sieun rolls his eyes. 

“Sieun-ah, I’ll get you something. Just watch this master at work.” 

As he slips a coin into the flap a few minutes later, “Which one do you want?”

Sieun stands in front of the machine, casually peering in as he sips at his steaming coffee. 

Finally, he spots the blue and yellow spotted fish in the corner, and murmurs, “That fish.”

Suho salutes and winks. “Wish me luck, honey.”

Sieun only shakes his head, hiding his little smile behind his takeaway cup.

A couple minutes later:

Sieun stares blankly at the plushie in his hand, then looks up at Suho in mild shock.

Suho wipes the sweat off his brow and clumsily gestures at it. “Told you. There’s a technique.”

“You got lucky.”

“Did not!”

“Did.”

“Ha! You try it then, punk. I won’t stop you from losing all your money again.”

Sieun looks back down at the fish, and squishes its eye. 

“D’you like your fish?”

“Mm.”

“I still can’t believe you just randomly memorized a book on marine animals,” Suho chuckles as he fiddles with the keychains stand near the machine, parsing through a couple.

Sieun shakes his head. “I did that because Abeo-nim mentioned one day that he'd like to visit the sea,” Sieun says, cradling the little plushie in his hand. “He was watching some documentary on TV. It was about deep-sea diving.” 

He pauses, looking back at Sieun as he feels a helpless ache wrack through his body, bone-deep. Little Sieun, memorizing an entire book, front to back. Just so he could tell his dad all about the sea, when they went to visit. They probably never did.

Suho briefly wonders how one could possibly go wrong with parenting a child like Sieun: a child so loving, patient and caring. It would've been so easy—and still is. Sieun’s parents, Suho realizes again, don't deserve him. The ache settles deep in his chest. 

Affection rolls off him in waves. 

“You’re a darling, aren’t you?” he blurts. 

Sieun looks up, his listless stare turning wide. He stands in the mild blue of claw-machine tubelight. It bathes his face in a soft glow, in an otherwise dim basement, and the light reflects from his widening eyes in distilled fractals.

In that moment, Suho lets himself feel love in all its tenderness. Through the eyes of a lover, more than a friend.

“I think if I gave you my heart, you’d treat it tenderly.”*

They stare at each other, and in Sieun’s gaze, Suho finds that same starkness again. It feels magnetic. It feels so awfully strange.

“Wouldn’t you?”

Yeon Sieun is precious, and kind. 

Suho wants, more than anything, to be deserving of that kindness.  

When they get to the beach, Suho is swept away by a sudden burst of energy. “It’s the sea!” 

Sieun huffs as he tries to keep pace with him. He jogs across the shore, and takes in that familiar endless blue, comforting like a second home now. It beckons to him. His feelings feel fit to burst in his chest.

When he looks back at Sieun, he’s overcome. 

“Yeon Sieun,” he mumbles, then breaks out into a grin, and turns to look at the sea. “Yeon Sieun!” he raises his voice this time, projecting louder, letting his voice carry across the tides. 

Sieun only watches him with a curious, somewhat guarded expression. Suho looks around to make sure no one’s in their vicinity, then looks back at Sieun again. “I like you,” he gestures behind him, throwing his arms out to measure the sea, “Thiiiis much!”

Sieun snorts, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking everywhere but at Suho, embarrassment lining the edges of his face. 

Before he knows it, he’s being lifted into the air. He gasps, hands immediately coming to settle on Suho’s shoulders. Suho looks up with a grin as he twirls Sieun around. 

When he comes to a standstill, Sieun looks down at him with an intense gaze, eyes bright despite the perplexed expression on his face. 

A beat. Then, 

“Aren’t you putting me down?”

“Yeon Sieun,” Suho clicks his tongue as he lets him down, “learn some romance, won’t you?”

His heart still swells, nonetheless, when Sieun starts waddling away unsteadily. 

When they sit down on the sand, side by side, Sieun murmurs, “You know, don’t you?”

Suho raises a brow. 

“Today.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “I know. I woke up a year ago today. Can you believe it?”

Sieun looks out into the sea, sinking his hands into the sand. After a while, he shakes his head and murmurs, “No. I still can’t, sometimes.”

Suho tilts his head at him. 

“Sometimes I wake up, and for a split-second, I wonder if I finally woke up from a long dream.” Sieun kneads at the sand, grabs a handful, then lets it slip through his fingers. “I close my eyes again when that happens.”

Suho snorts, then reaches up to straighten Sieun’s folded collar.

He trails his palm down the back of his arm, and takes Sieun’s overturned hand in his, gripping it tight, then letting it go. 

“Next time that happens, just call me.” 

A smile twitches at the edges of Sieun’s mouth. “Okay.”

They walk side by side on the shore later, shoes imprinting on damp sand. 

“Sieun-ah, I’ve been meaning to ask you,”

“Hm?”

“Why did you stop sitting by my side? Halmeoni said you’d only sit outside in the hallway and look into your phone sometimes.”

Sieun suddenly becomes all too interested in the sand underneath his feet. 

After what seems like an intense internal battle, he murmurs, “Just… It felt embarrassing. To open up in front of you,”

Suho snorts. 

“And…” he hesitates, “It felt odd. Seeing you so motionless.”

Suho tilts his head in understanding. “I get it, I guess.” The waves inch closer to their feet, breaking in comforting swells. “I mean, I would’ve liked hearing your voice, but I get it.”

They walk, listening to the call of the waves.

Then, suddenly,

"What if I never get better?"

Sieun looks at Suho. A wave begins building inside his heart. He feels its swell. 

“I just,” Suho continues, trailing ahead, looking out into the horizon. His side profile is contemplative, but Sieun can tell he’s in pain, by the slight redness in the corners of his eyes, the way his lips purse, the soft tone of his voice. “I just don’t want to… I want you to…”

Sieun stops in his tracks. His chest aches. He doesn’t understand. A small, irrational, nagging part of him still can’t understand why he still has the privilege of being part of Suho’s life. “Suho-ya,”

“Hm?”

“Why me?”

Suho finally looks back at Sieun, confusion evident in the furrow of his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you… Why do you like me?”

Suho takes a moment. “Because,” He starts and stops. He stares right at Sieun. It’s intense, yet Sieun can’t seem to look away.

“Because you’re you.” 

Suho takes a step closer, then stops again. “You’re Sieunie.”

He tries to put it into words. This pervasive, all-encompassing feeling. He’s never quite had to, before. 

“You’re… my best friend,” Suho’s voice falters. “The only person who’s ever made me feel less alone.”

The sun’s rays dance over Sieun’s fluttering hair. 

He starts, and now it’s difficult to stop.

“You’re warm, and funny. It’s easy to talk to you about anything. You have pretty eyes.” Suho laughs when Sieun blinks them at him. “I always want to be around you, even when I don’t. I miss you all the time. I worry about you all the time—I think I worried about you, even in my sleep. You’re beautiful. I want to protect you from all the pain in the world. You have such a big heart, and so much to give. Why wouldn’t I love you?” Sieun’s eyes widen, and Suho’s breath gets caught in his throat. “That’s right,” a breath, “why wouldn’t I love you?” another breath, and it feels like release, “I love you.” 

One meandering sentence after another, he finally finds what he’s been wanting to say. 

When Suho looks into Sieun’s eyes, he’s met with a wide-eyed stare. Suho smiles at him, helpless to surrender to the love that floods through his veins.

Sieun stares, and stares, until his eyes are glinting with blurry tears. When he finally opens his mouth, it’s a pained sound that comes out: “I can’t…” 

Suho shakes his head. “It’s okay. I know.”

They stand, a few paces away from each other, unmoving, caught in the intensity of the moment. Suho finds release in laying his vulnerability bare. Ever since he woke up, he’s never been able to truly indulge in releasing the intensity of his love for Sieun. 

Here, on this empty beach, with only Sieun as a witness, he finds his voice. He decides to just let go, and let go some more, until he has nothing left—

He turns towards the neverending sea, stretching out infinitely, reflecting the light of the sky—

And yells, with a force he’s never felt before—“Yeon Sieun, I love you!”

And it gushes through his veins. The sea engulfs him, absorbs the echoes of his wind-worn voice—

“I love you!” 

His vocal chords splinter as they get caught in those rough waves. He feels lightheaded, from the sudden force with which his voice resounds. His chest swells up and down.

He thinks he hears Sieun gasp, so he grins brashly, unabashedly as he looks back at him. “Sieun-ah, do you know? This won’t make sense, but I need to tell you.” he laughs, and finds a lump forming in his throat, and the salt water blurs his vision, so he wipes it away. “For some reason, whenever I dream of you, all I see are the brightest rays of light in endlessly blue skies. Ever since I woke up, they’ve kept me so warm.”

Sieun’s eyes widen, and he goes incredibly still. 

Suho steadies his breath, then smiles. “They make me feel less alone, you know?”

A beat.

When Sieun doesn’t move an inch, Suho looks out into the vast sky, then turns, and begins to walk the remaining stretch of the coastline, feeling freer and lighter than he ever has his entire life. 

It’s then, as his back is turned to Sieun, that his name is called out, meek and shaky: “Suho-ya,” 

He turns. Sieun is still rooted in that same spot.

A beat. Then,

“I love you.” 

I love you.

The voice rings out, beautifully soft, achingly vulnerable, and Suho’s heart stutters.

Sieun stands there, hands shaking, stance unsure. As if he might collapse, any moment. It’s heartbreaking. 

“Can’t hear you.” 

Suho sees Sieun’s wide, doe-eyed stare, and the fond grin twitches onto his face. “Sieun-ah, what do we do? I think you’ll have to be louder.”

Sieun opens and closes his mouth, then tries again,

“I love you.”

It’s a little stronger now.

“Louder.”

“I love you,” Yeon Sieun’s voice cracks as it raises, hoarse and resounding with a force Suho has never heard from him before. It’s raw, brittle, frayed at the edges, and yet so strong. 

It renders Suho a little speechless.

When Suho doesn’t respond this time, Sieun misinterprets his silence. He looks out into the sea, as if steeling himself, then turns that determined gaze back on Suho. His eyes are wet, growing progressively red at the edges. 

Finally, the fault lines split open.

“I said I love you!” The words come out in a loud, aching sob. His tears roll down, fat and heavy. “I love you,” another painful sob, “I love you,”

Suho stands, lost for words, slow to process what he’s hearing. Sieun’s face is puffed up, blotched in reds and pinks, snotty and trembling, and he looks absolutely beautiful.

“I love you, Ahn Suho,” 

The force of the words finally helps it sink in. 

Yeon Sieun is standing there in all his flesh and blood, desperately and determinedly crying out that he loves Suho as if there's no tomorrow, repeatedly, as if he can't withstand the thought of having to hold it in anymore.

That Yeon Sieun is standing in front of him, chest gaping open, heart bared, because the magnitude of his love is nearly uncontainable, just like Suho’s—it's bursting at the seams, sparking at his edges. It’s the depths of his love helping him overcome his fear, helping him find his voice.

It's his heart, gorgeously laid open, leaving Suho breathless. He watches Yeon Sieun as he lets himself feel, viscerally, irrepressibly, and lets love flood into every last corner of his being. 

The boy who sat by himself at his desk with his head buried in a book, earbuds plugged in to make sure he's shut off to the outside world, chest a gaping hole, eyes empty, a ghost in human flesh. 

That same boy's eyes are now as bright as starbursts, frantic and yet determined, filled with heavy tears, trained right on him as his chest heaves, his hair blown in the wind, volcanic waves of love gushing through his battered veins, melting his organs, reflecting light—pure and uncontrollable—back at him.

It was love, all this time, Suho realizes, as he once again looks right into that gaping maw, catches a glimpse of it as he did in that classroom all those years ago, when he blindly felt into Yeon Sieun's depths for the first time. The lava underneath the surface, bubbling, thick and viscous, burning with a force enough to melt everything in its path. 

Where Suho's love is the overwhelming blue wave of a tsunami, Sieun is the unhindered great wave of an erupting volcano, roiling underneath the surface before bursting right through his seams. Suho is pulled to it, tethered to it, and wants to keep looking at it forever.

Two razing, wrathful, wanton forces of nature, yet so tender and needy in their love for each other. 

Suho wants to live in this moment forever, freeze time, and place his hand against Yeon Sieun's chest to feel his beating heart. Yeon Sieun, who looks like love incarnate, tears leaking out of his wide, beautiful eyes. 

He smiles, then the smile turns into a grin, then Suho is laughing, and laughing some more, until tears are welling in his eyes. He laughs through his tears, walking, jogging, then running to Sieun, and crashing into him, pulling him into his arms with a force that condenses his own overflowing love.

Sieun, with his love leaking out of his viscera, holds Suho with a force unparalleled, and Suho keeps laughing in glee, keeps laughing.

"You did it, Sieun-ah, I love you, I love you too," 

Suho peppers his face with kisses, lips catching on the wet tears, then lovingly nudges their noses against each other.

He watches as Sieun comes to realize, hiccuping, and then slowly, Sieun smiles. And Suho watches, enraptured, as that smile slowly widens, and widens, until it's the sweetest, happiest grin Suho has ever seen. 

Time slows down. 

Behind him, the waves crash onto the shore with a fierce roar, triumphant and harmonious. The sea reflects the deep blue of the skies, and the setting sun envelops them in its loving, golden warmth. 

And then, Sieun says, maddeningly, lovingly: 

“You're crazy.”

1 year and 1 day ago

Sieun stands at the entrance of Suho’s hospital room, staring at his limp, comatose body.

He tightens his grip on the door, then finally takes a deep breath and shuffles in. 

He doesn’t like Suho so motionless. It’s unsettling, when he used to move like light. 

Like the biggest source of light in Sieun’s life, possibly even brighter than the sun. Nearly blinding sometimes, and at other times in his periphery, the ghost of a warm hand on his shoulder, a gentle grip on his wrists. Always penetrating, unfiltered and raw, yet always out of reach. 

The schoolbag drops with a thump by the side of Suho’s bed. He pulls up a chair, lifting it so as to not make too much noise. 

When he finally settles in, he sits still and stares for a long while.

He’s unused to speaking to Suho, face to unresponsive face. It’s been quite a while.

A year and nine months have passed. They’re near the two year mark now. 

The more hopeless Sieun feels, the more he steels himself to be stronger. It’s still a hopeless feeling, all the same. And yet, something so visceral in his gut spurs him to live on another day, to lie in wait for a maybe. For a flicker of hope. It’s the least Suho deserves, too. Someone who would always wait by his side. Even if that someone is Yeon Sieun. 

‘You’re quite devoted, aren’t you?’ His therapist had remarked once, when Sieun had cut their session short to catch a bus to Suho’s hospital. He hadn’t paid it much mind, then. 

Devotion. 

He stares at Suho, expression unguarded. 

“Suho-ya,”

His voice rings velvety soft, yet deep and grounded. It carries devotion.

The sight of Suho’s face makes Sieun feel an unparalleled longing, so intense and all-consuming that he can barely withstand its heat. He turns his gaze away in a moment of vulnerability.

He thinks back to those days when Suho was wide awake, alive and whole, gazing deep into Sieun’s eyes as if he had felt into his very depths and knew. Knew what lay beneath, and wasn’t repelled by it. Always understanding, always softening his otherwise searing gaze. Something that Sieun had taken for granted, then. Something that he still can’t comprehend now. Something that he maybe won’t ever be able to fully comprehend. That intensity…

To Sieun, Suho was light. 

And he still is.

An intangible force of nature, but one that shrouds him, makes him want to know himself. The text that sits half-written in his backpack, cursor blinking, paused on ‘I’ll be back soon’, is proof enough of this. He’s someone who now tries to leave reassurance in his wake. He explores and practices vulnerability, sitting alone on the cold plastic of the waiting room seat, while Suho rests behind him. He devotes himself to it. 

Longing and grief stirring in the depths of his chest, he finds himself wondering what Suho felt when he looked at him, back then. If he had even a fraction of the same impact on Suho as Suho had on him. If he meant something to him, in the end. If he’ll still mean something to him when he inevitably wakes up and finds himself having to deal with losing years of his life. Part of him still feels like he shouldn’t dare intrude. Another part of him, fiercely protective and stubborn to a fault, refuses to leave. 

He can’t bear to see Suho’s light be dimmed. 

“Suho-ya,” he whispers, sitting frighteningly still, lost in thought, “I wonder… If you ever saw light in me the way I saw it in you.”

He shifts his gaze back onto Suho’s limp body, his sleeping face, as he thinks out loud. So heartrendingly close, yet so far away. 

“Or were you lonely in your own world, until the end?”

The listless whisper is lost to the cold, stagnant hospital air. 

Suho’s steady breaths, silent and unaffected, almost feel like a lie.

“Forget it,” he mumbles.

Sieun’s chair squeaks as he pushes it back, standing up. He picks up his bag from the floor as he tries to blink away the tears in his misty eyes. He turns, and walks away as quietly and as unintrusively as he came. His footsteps echo in the same rhythm that they always have. There’s a loneliness to them.

And so, the first twitch of Suho's finger goes unnoticed.

끝

Chapter Text

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Suho ducks under the Downy-scented shirts hanging on the clothes-line, narrowly avoiding getting swatted in the face, “so you’re telling me, like a day before I woke up,” 

“Yeah,”

He climbs the steps with their juice cans. “You came and asked me that question, and that’s why—”

“Yeah.”

He passes one over to Sieun and plops himself down on the ledge. “Ha! Those dreams finally make sense. Fascinating how the brain works, seriously.”

Sieun pops open his can, and gives him a flat, indolent look. “I didn’t expect you to take it so literally.”

“Hey—how else was I supposed to take it? My brain was barely functioning. What's that look for? I thought it was romantic.”

Sieun rolls his eyes, then sighs out, “Sure.”

“Sieun-ah,” Suho leans in, “was that a fond sigh? Are you fond of me?”

“No,” Sieun hides the smile behind his can, and clears his throat. 

Suho blatantly stares at him, reflecting the same fondness as his mouth curves. 

He looks out into the skyline, dotted with offices and apartment buildings, all brightly lit. The air carries its usual sounds of distant music, and the comforting scent of fabric detergent. Suho maneuvers himself and backs up against the wall on his left, folding his foot under his thigh. “Yeon Sieun,” he leans back against the wall, and takes a sip, “be honest. When did you start liking me?”

Sieun only sets his juice aside and leans back on his palms. His brows furrow as he sinks into thought. “Dunno,” he mumbles, “I never…”

“Thought about it?”

Sieun shakes his head. “I’ve always… felt the same about you.”

Suho, “So you’ve always liked me? From the beginning?”

“Depends,” Sieun tilts his head the slightest bit, “when was the beginning?” 

“Well… Maybe when I knocked over your pencil case.”

Suho finally turns to shoot him a curious gaze. “‘Maybe’?”

Suho stares at Sieun with an amused, secretive expression on his face. 

“Why?” Sieun stares back in confusion.

“Ah, it's just…” 

Suho rubs the back of his neck, huffing out an embarrassed laugh. 

Sieun turns his body to face Suho. “What is it? Tell me.” His tone betrays his curious impatience. 

“I might have known about you before we like, met-met,”

Sieun’s brows furrow. “What does that mean?” 

“I mean,” Suho pulls at his collar, suddenly feeling like the air around him is too hot. “I didn't stalk you or anything, just,” 

Suho watches as Sieun narrows his eyes.

“Don't look at me like that, I wasn't trying to be creepy! You were always winning those awards and all that, and topping class, there's no way I couldn't have noticed you.” Suho licks his dry lips, “You fascinated me, is all.”

Sieun frowns, looking off to the side and trying to put two and two together. Slowly, the frown turns into creeping realisation. “You approached me on purpose,” Sieun looks back up, and sees a guilty expression on Suho's face. 

Suho clears his throat. “Yeah, guess you could say that,” 

“When you rang my doorbell, were you—did you know—” Sieun feels like he's going to break out into internal hysterics. Only Suho could pull a reaction like this out of him. 

“Well, maybe, kinda,”

The breeze picks up around them, ruffling Sieun’s hair.

“Answer it straight.”

“Yeah, yes, okay. It was on purpose. But it was because I’d regularly deliver to your neighbour, so I saw you walking in once, and I was thirsty that nigh—”

Suho's next words are interrupted by the sudden push of Sieun's mouth against his own, Suho's can knocked aside and waywardly stumbling down the ledge, its tinny noises fading into the distance.

Suho stops breathing. 

Sieun slowly pulls back enough for Suho to see a nearly frenzied glint in his blown out eyes. 

It makes him shiver. 

Suho registers that Sieun is slightly bent over him, with a knee propped on the ledge. Then, his gaze shifts to Sieun's hands on his chest, clutching his windbreaker, then sees his chest heave, his throat swallow. Finally, he lands on Sieun's mouth. 

His warm, enticing mouth—soft, and entirely too red—that he'd just felt plush against his own. Suho’s lips tingle from the impact. His heart begins to race in his chest, wild and urgent.

He leans forward. Sieun leans back reflexively. 

“Sieun-ssi,” his own voice sounds distant and alien to him as the blood gushes through his ears. “Sieun-ah,” he repeats urgently when it clears, breath short, “you know what you just did?” 

Sieun nods. 

“Good.”

Suho's hand comes up to hold Sieun's face, his own breaths turning heavy. The sudden adrenaline rush exacerbates his nervous jitter, as his shaky palm cups the curve of Sieun's jaw. Sieun ever so slightly leans into it. 

Suho stares at Sieun’s mouth, then slowly presses his thumb against the plush of his lower lip. He pushes down on it, watching as it pillows, feeling its slightly dry texture. His arms erupt in gooseflesh. 

“Can't take it back,” Suho whispers. 

He's starved for it.  

“Don’t want to.”

He feels Sieun's breath scatter unevenly against his thumb. His eyes look so frenzied, so wanton and unhinged that it nearly drives Suho up a wall. His pupils are blown out, and his expression is anticipatory. 

“You want this?”

Sieun lets his mouth drop open a little more in response, and lets him in. Suho pushes his thumb further inside, and is met with the damp wetness of his inner lip.

Sieun's fingers tighten where they're still clutching at Suho's chest. His breath stutters, delicate and anticipatory. 

“Why are you so lovely, Sieun-ah?” Suho murmurs. Sieun lets out a barely audible hum. It nearly drives Suho up a wall again. He’s everything. 

His thumb slowly begins to trace Sieun's lower teeth, curiously presses into his canines, then sneaks further in to press on his fluttering tongue. Sieun bites down—gently, then harder. The breeze that blows past is chillingly cold. Sieun’s mouth is so warm, in contrast. Suho feels his facial muscles start to twitch as Sieun's sharp teeth press into his skin. 

Even his dirtiest wet dreams don’t compare to the ragged intimacy of this moment. Suho lets himself crest the waves of it. 

Slowly, he realizes. 

“You like that I sought you out?” he murmurs, voice pitched low.

He lets Sieun explore, lets him hesitantly pull his thumb further into his mouth. “Mm?”

A stutteringly sweet exhale. 

“Truthfully, I didn't really know myself, back then,” Suho continues, breathless, “didn't know my attraction,” Sieun gives his thumb a small, curious suck, and then another, wrists slackening against Suho's chest. Suho brings his other arm up to pull Sieun down by his waist. Sieun folds, moving into his lap, pliant and willing. “I didn't know anything,” 

Sieun's hands come to softly grip Suho's wrist. He pulls his thumb out. It glistens with spit, cooling as it's exposed to the frigid air. 

“Tastes bitter,” Sieun murmurs as he grasps at his hand, unfolds the rest of Suho's fingers from their half-curled position. 

“Yeah?” Suho's slow to register it as he stares brazenly, the hand around his waist tightening its grip, slipping under Sieun's hoodie to caress his skin through the soft fabric of his shirt. 

Sieun squirms, then lets Suho press his fingers against his mouth, letting them slip in. He takes two of Suho's fingers in—hesitantly, at first. He averts his gaze as he grips Suho's palm and wrist with his hands, teeth scraping as he familiarizes himself with the feeling.

Suho watches, the hand at Sieun's waist tightening incrementally. “Baby,” he murmurs, affection spilling out, unbidden. 

Sieun gasps, then finally pulls his lips tight around him, and sucks gently. His mouth feels so soft around his fingers, warm and curious. His breath fans against Suho's skin. It’s overstimulating.

Suho pants out a throaty, "Good, you're so good," then he moves his fingers further in, tracing the back of Sieun's teeth, tracing the inside of his gums. His fingers are immersed and coated in soft, sticky saliva. Suho has never felt so out of it in his life, as he murmurs, “So good,” half out of his mind. 

Sieun closes his eyes in response. 

Sieunie. 

Suho finally notices that there's a tiny bit of drool pooling by the side of Sieun's mouth. 

He comes up to affectionately kiss the drool off the corner, then shifts his fingers back to the center to press down against his quivering tongue again. Sieun responds in kind, slackening his mouth and pulling him in further.

Sieun's hands slide from where they're holding Suho’s wrist, pushing his windbreaker sleeve down and feeling up his forearm, soft and reverent.

He watches as Sieun almost meditatively sucks on his fingers, brows slightly furrowed, cheeks flushed and hair tousled prettily, his breath heavy. Sieun’s teeth scrape lightly against his knuckles when Suho bends them slightly, his own wandering fingers just as eager to explore his lovely mouth. 

Suho feels himself unravel, losing track of space and time. Sieun—perched on his lap, artless and unguarded, not the least bit of tension in his body. He only squirms, just the tiniest bit, as his busy mouth finds pleasure in Suho's fingers, tuned out to the rest of the world.

Suho can't believe he has his fingers buried in Sieun's warmth—so carnal in his clumsiness. Inexperienced, but so pushy and eager—yet so pliant, with the demeanor of someone unused to keeping his mouth soft and rounded, his teeth slack—so rough around the edges and yet trusting enough to explore his own curiosities and chase his pleasure. Trusting enough to take it when Suho presses in deeper.

"Sieun-ah, you were made for me," Suho blurts, out of his mind. The air grows thick and heavy with his arousal. 

Sieun lets out a soft, near obedient noise, his tentative tongue chasing the tips of Suho's fingers as he pulls them out, velvety soft.

"Sieun-ah," Sieun grips his arm, then takes his fingers in even deeper, Suho's hand a wet mess. "You're my first love. You know that? You were my first love, you still are, always will be," Sieun gets the wild look on him again through his hooded lids, the one that Suho likes so much, and he's trying to push Suho's fingers further in, the crazy bastard, "Yeah, that's it, that's it," he encourages, letting Sieun lose himself to his heart's content. 

He lets his eyes wander, and he sees Sieun’s pretty neck on display, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows, the jut of his collarbone, the soft skin as it stretches over cartilage. He licks his lips. 

He finds that he can't resist.

He leans in close, pressing a soft, tentative kiss against the side of Sieun's throat as he sucks on his fingers. Sieun twitches in his hold as he moans, the sound vibrating against his fingers. Suho presses another soft kiss, then another, feeling Sieun's throat bob as he swallows and gasps for air. 

He then slowly removes his fingers from the warmth of Sieun’s mouth, gently and reluctantly pulling them out. Sieun chases them, whining low. 

“I know,” Suho whispers, placating him as he tilts Sieun's head up, and places little kisses against his Adams apple, then the dip of his collarbone, then his hand goes to grip the back of Sieun's head as an anchor, the wet drool from Sieun's mouth seeping into strands of his hair. 

Sieun shivers and whimpers against him. It makes his last thread snap. 

Suho groans, then starts kissing his neck in earnest, mouth leaving warm, wet imprints from the dip of his collarbone, all the way up to the sensitive spot right below his ears. His kisses are eager, nearly hasty as he presses into Sieun's sensitive skin insistently—he can't get close enough. 

Sieun starts writhing against him, writhing away from him, as if experiencing sensory overload. He nearly crushes Suho's face between his neck and shoulder in the process, wrists pushing at his chest helplessly, whining. His whining only makes Suho feel crazier, low and restrained.

It just makes Suho tighten his grip on Sieun's hair, pulling hard, tilting his face back at an angle so that he can keep kissing under his ear, so he can trail his wet, open mouth back down his neck. He nearly loses himself as he tightens the arm that's curled around Sieun's waist, pulling him painfully closer as he gasps and writhes. He litters Sieun's neck in devoted, open-mouthed kisses, laves his tongue against the dip of his pretty collarbone, and Sieun arches against him. "Sieun-ah," he breathes heavily against Sieun's neck, then moves back to look at Sieun’s face just to be sure, "you like this?" 

Sieun pants, then desperately, aggressively pushes Suho's head back into his neck, until his nose is painfully squished against cartilage, until Suho can't breathe. Suho laughs fondly, and Sieun whimpers when he doesn't immediately resume his kissing and groping. He tightens his grip against Suho's head, as if pleading.

Suho, overwhelmed and overstimulated himself, pent up from weeks of holding back, detaches his hand from where it's gripping Sieun's hair and brings it down to also wrap around his waist, hugging him tight. He kisses his neck affectionately, then plants one last wet kiss under Sieun’s jaw. Sieun pants, letting his head fall and burying it into the crook of Suho's neck, and his arms come up to rest over his shoulders. 

They sit like that for a while, until their breathing slows back down. 

Suho rubs a consoling hand up and down Sieun's back. "You okay?" 

"Yeah," Sieun slurs, pulling back to look at him. 

Suho's breath catches. 

His eyes are watery and red-rimmed, his cheeks flushed, his mouth red and glistening with his own spit.

Suho suddenly feels insatiable. He wants, and wants. 

“Sieun-ah, why do you have such a pretty mouth?” Suho breathes, pressing his thumb against his pillowy lips, now red from friction. “I can't take it,” 

Sieun whimpers as he rubs his thumb against its swell. “It's so pretty, fuck, it's crazy,” 

Suho leans in, and kisses him.

Sieun gasps, arms tightening around his neck, and Suho brings a hand up to hold his jaw, guiding him as he begins to move his lips. 

They've never done it like this. 

Sieun tries to follow, stunted and awkward. Their lips detach, wet and sticky. “Here, tilt your head like this,” Suho murmurs as he gently guides his chin into the right angle. “That's it, follow me,” He takes Sieun’s bottom lip between his, then Sieun sweetly, enthusiastically mirrors him.

It's almost scary how easy it is for Suho to lose himself in this feeling.

They kiss without tongue, soft and experimental, he lets Sieun adjust to the rhythm of the kiss, lets him soften against him. Their lips smack against each other, soft, sweet little noises reverberating in the space between them. 

Sieun's lips are so soft, the eager way in which he reciprocates is so lovely. Suho never could have imagined just how sweet kissing Yeon Sieun would be. 

And in the middle of his kiss-drunk haze, Sieun slurs, “Suho-ya,” so reverent and helpless that it makes Suho's heart swell uncontrollably.

“You're doing so well,” Suho kisses him like this until he can't control himself anymore, until he's bursting at the seams, nearly beside himself, then murmurs, “Sieun-ah, open your mouth, give me your tongue.” 

Sieun gasps, then obediently sticks his tongue into his mouth, and Suho envelops it, sucks on it as he pulls his head closer. He feels Sieun going limp in his arms, melting against him. Suho moans as he detaches with a trail of spit, and breathes, “Wanna try?” Sieun nods fervently, hands clutching desperately at Suho’s shoulders. Suho huffs, fond and irrevocably aroused.

He takes Suho’s tongue, sucking at it, wet and heady, and his hands come to grip at Suho’s neck, trying to control the angle, trying to get as close as possible. Their teeth clack hard against each other in Sieun's eagerness, and he pulls back. Suho laughs, pecking his mouth haphazardly. 

Sieun returns his peck as he twines his arms tighter around his neck. He clumsily initiates another kiss. It makes Suho's heart swell. 

Suho starts to slowly return the kiss, reciprocating, trying to establish a rhythm. Their teeth clack against each other again at first, but Sieun's always been so eager to learn, so he slowly adjusts to it, melting into Suho's rhythm as he guides him. 

Suho pulls away for a second to ask,

“You like this?” 

“Mm,” Sieun mumbles, breathless, honeyed and sweet—but mostly impatient, chasing his mouth. 

Suho lets out a fond little laugh, evading as his hands come to settle at Sieun’s hips, squeezing and kneading at his love handles as Sieun pulls away and breathes heavy. God, Suho thinks, his mouth is so wet, it's driving me crazy.  

Suho murmurs, “You'll be the death of me,” he brings his thumb back up to Sieun's mouth while he lets Sieun catch a breath, tracing the line of his bottom lip, then brings his fingers back to his mouth, says, “Suck,” and Sieun does just that. Sieun accidentally lets the spit drool, then laps at it, and it starts driving Suho crazy, how lovely he is like this. “That's right,”

Sieun, who's usually such a neat freak, obsessive about cleanliness, can't seem to get his fingers wet enough, can't seem to get enough of Suho’s tongue. Suho wants to kiss him silly, and in his lustful fog of thoughts, imagines fisting his hand in Sieun's hair, pushing his head down. It makes him grip his waist tight enough to bruise, and Sieun moans beautifully for him, sucks at his fingers with an artless enthusiasm that makes Suho's mind run further and further away from him.

And so he starts blurting everything out, “Sieun-ah, did you know how little time we had to get to know each other in the beginning? Do you remember?” Sieun nods, Suho slowly starts moving his fingers in and out, watching the drool quelch, watches as Sieun's mouth folds for him, watches his eyes that are glazed, the bead of sweat that runs down his temple and his pinkened cheeks, his heavy breath that sounds so raw and arousing, “I remember it like it was yesterday, I wanted you so badly I didn't know what to do with it, how did we manage to find each other?” 

Sieun gasps, takes his fingers in deeper.

“Sieun-ah, you're driving me crazy,” another gasp, a whimper, as Suho pulls his hand back out, brings it right under Sieun’s shirt to grab around his waist, the cold drool making Sieun squirm in his lap. Then, he starts kissing him on the mouth again, hungry, all inhibitions abandoned. The wet heat is nearly unbearable. 

He grips Sieun’s waist with one hand, snaking it around to press down on the dimple of his back. The other hand guides Sieun’s face, cupping his jaw.

Suho leans back against the wall behind him, pulling Sieun in further. Sieun's hands travel under his windbreaker to grip at his shirt, one hand fisting against his chest as the other has a white-knuckled grip on his shoulder. He squirms against him as they explore each other's mouths, wet and hungry. 

Sieun pushes him further into the wall, and Suho moans, loud and unrestrained, as Sieun fists his hands deeply into his clothes and starts pulling, cotton straining under his fingertips as he pushes in even closer with his waist. 

As Suho goes to grip Sieun's neck with both his hands, deepening the kiss, Sieun's hands travel under his shirt, desperately rucking it up to feel at Suho's stomach and waist, movements half-possessed. His fingers and palms leave traces of white-hot heat in their wake, Sieun's touch unrestrained and heavy, possessive and impatient. 

Suho moans again as he sucks on his tongue, fisting his hand into Sieun's hair. It makes Sieun whimper so sweetly, as he writhes on Suho's lap with an intensity that's nearly painful.

“Sieun-ah,” Suho murmurs helplessly as he pulls away, voice cracking as he kisses his chin, his jaw, then his cheek, wet drool following in his wake as he bites his nose. It must hurt, because Sieun pulls back with a whimper, but Suho's relentless, and wants to keep biting his nose, so he chases him, and Sieun tries to pull away.

Finally, Sieun clamps his hand over Suho's mouth, then lets out a helpless little giggle that nearly splinters Suho's reality as he stares down at his smiling mouth. “Have you lost it?” 

“Yeah,” Suho tries to pull his hand off, dazed, “why?” 

Sieun rubs at his reddened nose. “Bastard, you bit me so hard.” 

Suho laughs. “Sieun-ah, I want to eat you.” 

“You're crazy.” 

“I am.” Suho chomps on Sieun's fingers, and Sieun winces.

He immediately soothes over it with gentle kisses, murmuring, “Sorry, sorry,” and then kisses his nose, too. 

“You just have such a cute nose,” he can't help himself, has no self-control when it comes to his cuteness aggression, so he grips his nose between two fingers and pulls. Sieun smacks his hand away painfully. “Ow,”

“What does that even mean?” 

“That you have a cute nose, and cute cheeks,” He grabs his cheeks, then tries to bite them, and Sieun evades and struggles away, cursing at him. “Your entire existence is so fucking cute, I want to be inside you so badly I could die from it.” 

Sieun turns beet red, scrambling out of his lap. Suho protests, whining. “Sieun-ah, you don't want me?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Hey!” 

When they go back into Sieun's flat, Suho corners him at the doorway.

He pulls at the sides of Sieun's hood, pressing closer, crushing their mouths together in a tight, long kiss. 

When he pulls away and sees Sieun's wide eyes, he grins at him brashly. 

“What was that for?”

“I just remembered I can do that any time I want now.”

Sieun's face colors red as he stares at him, rendered speechless. 

When Suho pats his cheek and begins to pull away, he feels a tug at his windbreaker. 

Before he can process what's happening, he's being roughly pulled in by both his lapels, and an eager mouth presses urgently against his own. 

Then, with a fleeting intensity, the weight is gone as soon as it came. When Sieun detaches, his mouth and cheeks are red, and his pupils are blown out. 

“Me too,” he whispers, staring at Suho's mouth.

At first, Suho's too shocked to react, his heart racing. Then slowly, his lips start twitching into a fond smile. 

But Yeon Sieun slowly brings his fingers up to trace Suho's lower lip, shaky, a lustful heat in his eyes. Suho's heart shivers. 

“Sieun-ah—”

He's interrupted by the insistent press of Sieun's mouth against his again, and this time, it's eager, and it's moving, begging for reciprocation. 

Oh no, Suho thinks, what have I created? 

As he presses Sieun against the wall and crowds in, licking gently into his wanton mouth, he thinks, I'm fucking done for. 

The next morning, they’re up early, puttering around in comfortable silence. It’s Sieun’s first day of orientation, and Suho insists on dropping him at the university gates. 

Suho goes to freshen up in the bathroom. As he’s finishing up washing his face, the unmistakable scent of coffee drifts in through the closed door.

When he opens it, towelling at his face, he sees Sieun fiddling with an instant coffee sachet as the milk boils on the stove, Suho’s herbal tea steaming in a mug on the counter. 

“What’s all this?” He leans against the bathroom door, and Sieun looks up. 

“Coffee.” Sieun says. “And your tea.”

Suho can’t help his curiosity as he goes to lean against the counter, watching as Sieun pours the milk into the mug. 

“Let me have a taste,” he says, and Sieun blinks at him.

“No.”

“Ah, why? Just a tiny sip won’t kill me,” he whines. Sieun mixes his coffee and pushes Suho’s mug towards him. 

As Suho rounds the counter, Sieun looks at him with tired eyes. He doesn’t put up a fight as Suho snatches the coffee mug, and takes a small sip.

He nearly chokes on it. 

It’s terrible.

“Sieun-ah,” he whispers. 

Sieun’s sweet doe eyes blink indolently. He can’t bring himself to say it. 

“It’s nothing.”

Ahn Suho, you’ve really gone soft. 

Later, Suho’s lounging on Sieun’s bed as he waits for him to get ready. 

When Sieun steps out of the bathroom, Suho goes still. 

He’s wearing a soft, eggshell white sweater, layered under a brown fleece jacket. 

Suho’s mouth goes dry. 

“You…” he clears his throat as he sits up, “since when do you own something like that?”

“Like what?” 

Sieun looks down when Suho points. “Mom gave it to me.”

“Ah,” Suho nods. Grudgingly, he thanks her in his head. “Right.”

It’s just that Sieun looks so incredibly soft. The sweater brings out his warm skin tone, the natural redness of his lips and the corners of his eyes. It’s a little oversized, too. The arms are long enough that only his fingers poke out. The tips of his fingers are pink and pretty, too. 

He looks like a dream. It’s dangerous.

The possessiveness hits him, all at once. 

As they’re getting ready to leave, heading towards the door to slip their shoes on, Suho steps in front of Sieun with an urgent look in his eyes, and says: “Sieun-ah, you can’t go out like this.”

Sieun blinks at him, slowly. “What?”

“You can’t…” Suho grabs Sieun’s hand, lifting it up between them. “It’s too cute.”

“... Get out of the way.”

When he tries to pull his hand out of Suho’s grip, he tightens it. “I’m serious.”

Suho starts trying to remove his jacket. Sieun’s eyes widen as he attempts to wrench out of Suho’s grip, stepping backward. “What’s wrong with you?”

Suho’s too preoccupied, hand slipping around Sieun’s waist to catch him as he stumbles backward. “You don’t understand. This is dangerous.”

“Let go, crazy bastard,” 

Suho walks them all the way to Sieun’s bed, managing to wrestle the jacket off. As it slips to his elbows, he sees the way the sweater engulfs Sieun, and nearly loses it.

“You…”

Suho presses Sieun onto the bed, his hair and jacket fanning out against it as he lands on his back. He gasps as Suho leans over him. “Yeon Sieun,” he murmurs helplessly, voice curling in on itself, “what do I do?” 

He slips a hand under Sieun's sweater, feeling at his waist.

“You make me feel like such a pervert,” Suho slips his other hand under Sieun's sweater, as well, his warm skin shifting in increments under Suho's palms as he writhes. 

His eyes are glassy when they look up at Suho.

“That’s because you are,” he mumbles, breathing hitching when Suho leans in to nuzzle under his ear. 

Ignoring him, Suho whispers, “You can’t go to university like this,”

He lets go of his waist, pulling Sieun’s hands out of his jacket, and pinning his wrists against the bed next to his head. “It’s too dangerous. It’s too pretty. What will I do? I’m just one man. I can’t take on that many people. And girls are scary, you know?”

“Suho-ya,” Sieun says, writhing in his grip, out of breath, “we’ll be late.”

“Just two minutes.” Suho mumbles, nearly out of his mind as he slips a palm under Sieun’s sweater again to brazenly feel his warm belly. Sieun’s breath hitches again. “Two minutes.”

He leans in, pressing a desperate kiss against Sieun’s mouth, licking into it when it falls open. 

They lose themselves in the heat of their kisses, Sieun’s arms coming to wrap tight around Suho’s neck, Suho bearing down against Sieun to get closer, and closer. His hands are greedy, and insatiable, as they knead at Sieun’s stomach, and the sides of his waist, gripping wantonly at his hips. His mouth is even greedier, licking into Sieun’s mouth, pressing desperately against his neck, kissing the tips of his fingers as he pulls an arm loose from around his neck and holds the back of his hand in his tight grip. 

Sieun’s eyes go hazy and hooded, his cheeks indecently red. 

Suho can’t help pressing in even closer, licking into his mouth again. 

In the heat of the moment, Suho's lower half brushes heavy against Sieun's. 

He doesn’t even realize, too beside himself, only registers it when Sieun looks down, breath caught as he whines out, “Suho-ya,” hands tightening their grip on Suho's shoulders. Tightening, and tightening. 

Suho wonders why, then realizes where Sieun’s staring as his hands knead at Sieun’s hips.

“Curious?” he pants as he looks up, tracing his nose down Sieun's neck. Sieun's grip only tightens in response. “Hm?” 

He takes the back of Sieun's hand in his again, pressing a kiss against his palm, and then pecking his mouth. Sieun nods once, eyes unfocused. 

“Yeah?” Sieun tightens his grip on his shoulder as his hand is pulled down. 

When Suho presses Sieun’s palm against his bulge through his jeans, he gasps. Suho groans, collapsing onto an elbow as he presses into Sieun's palm. “Sieun-ah,” he whispers.

“Sieun-ah,”

Sieun moves his hand, and Suho starts losing his breath as he guides him, Sieun’s hand engulfed in his own. He moves in close, presses his nose into the crook of Sieun’s neck. Sieun whines, then nudges his cheek against Suho’s head, hand settling into Suho’s hair. 

It’s overstimulating, and not enough at the same time. Sieun’s palm is warm as it presses into his bulge, and it feels overwhelmingly dirty. Suho tightens his grip on Sieun’s hand involuntarily, and Sieun’s breath hitches again. 

“Wait, wait—if we keep going like this, we won’t…”

Sieun pulls his head up, and hastily presses a kiss against Suho’s mouth. 

They barely make it in time. 

They sit on the terrace ledge on the following Friday, and Suho listens in rapt attention as Sieun recounts how the last few days of orientation have been.

“Wah,” Suho murmurs, “prestigious universities are something else, huh?”

Sieun nods, biting into Halmeoni’s hotteok. 

“So… Did anyone try to hit on you?”

Sieun rolls his eyes.

The next morning, Suho lazily walks out of the shower and sees Sieun in his little kitchen, sleep-ruffled in his slightly oversized purple sweatshirt and grey pajamas, puttering around as he tries to get something ready.

It's so endearing that it makes Suho's chest feel itchy. Then he blinks, and he watches Sieun put the milk to boil, and open up the cabinet to pull out instant coffee sachets. It finally sinks in that sweet, sweet Sieun is making himself that awful tasting morning coffee again. 

Resolute, he decides that something needs to be done about it. He stalks over with determination. 

When Sieun suddenly feels warm arms sliding around his waist, and a heavy weight bearing against his back, he stiffens in surprise.

Suho rubs his belly through the sweatshirt and rests his head on Sieun's shoulder, whispering, “Sieun-ah, why are you so cute?” 

Sieun sighs.

He tries to move, but Suho stops him, locking his arms. 

“Let go,” Sieun murmurs, hands coming up to rest on Suho's forearms, tugging lightly. 

Suho nips at his neck, making him squirm in protest. “No,” 

He nudges his nose against Sieun's ear, then pulls his lobe between his teeth. Sieun's breath hitches. He tries to reflexively move, but Suho resists with a whine, sniffing at the back of his head. Squeezing tight around his waist, he murmurs, “Sieun-ah, put your feet on top of mine,”

Sieun pauses. “What?” 

“Just do it,” then, whiny and spoiled, “please,” 

Sieun sighs, then looks at Suho in his periphery with narrowed eyes. Suho pouts dramatically. 

Realizing he has no way out, Sieun grudgingly complies after a good amount of staring, placing his right foot on top of Suho's first. 

Suho pulls and holds him tight for balance as he struggles, and Sieun grips at his arms as he tries to place his left foot on top too. 

When he's precariously standing on top of Suho's feet, Suho giggles. “Where do you wanna go? Hyung will take you.” 

“...” 

Suho slowly walks them back to the stovetop, where the milk is boiling. 

Sieun, through his teeth: “This is ridiculous.” 

Suho’s head lifts up from where it’s resting on Sieun's shoulder again. “You don't like it?”

He goes to pull away—but Sieun tightens his grip on his forearms, ears and neck tinting red.

After a long moment, 

“Sugar.” 

Suho guides him through the right proportions, sniff-kissing his cheeks and neck all the while. Sieun follows diligently, singularly focused on the coffee, cheeks dusted a bright pink. 

Later, the coffee cools on the floor by the bed, nearly forgotten as Suho thoroughly kisses that same sleep-ruffled Sieun—one hand fisting in his hair while the other grabs at the fat of his warm hips under his sweatshirt. Sieun’s mouth carries the bitter taste of coffee, sticky and sweet sugar folding in as they lick into each other. 

Sieun all but melts into the bed, whimpering as Suho peppers kisses down his neck, rucks his sweatshirt up as his wandering hand trails upwards, caressing and groping his waist. He bears his lower body down against Sieun's, hot and needy want coursing through his veins. 

Sieun's hands grip at his hair and his shoulder as he arches into Suho's touch, tightening and flexing when Suho bites at the skin of his collarbone.  

Suho looks up to see Sieun's pinkened, flushed cheeks, the haziness in his round eyes and in his slackened mouth. He groans, going back up to litter Sieun's mouth with soft pecks.  

“Darling,” he murmurs against his mouth, “the coffee tasted a lot better this time.” 

He smacks another kiss against Sieun's mouth as both his hands come to caress his waist under the sweatshirt. “Good job.” 

Sieun shivers, then murmurs, “Shut up.” as he chases his mouth.

“Okay.” 

Later, Sieun's pajama pants are haphazardly thrown onto the floor beside the bed, and his underwear stretches tight where it's roughly pulled down to reveal just enough, bare legs wrapped around Suho's clothed waist. 

Sieun groans as Suho presses against him, gripping both of them in his hand as he pulls them off, breathing heavily and cursing under his breath. 

Sieun can't help but move with him, swept along in Suho's rhythm, writhing in pleasure as he grips tightly at Suho's shoulders, sweatshirt bunched up at his chest. 

Suho collapses his upper body against Sieun's as they pant and writhe, Sieun's hair fanned out against the mattress, lolling against it as he looks at him with a hazy flush. Suho grips at Sieun's ass with his other hand, murmuring, “So cute,” as he squeezes and traces up and down his side, his gaze soft and reverent. 

Sieun lowers his eyes, and Suho kisses his left eyelid, then his right. 

Sieun whines in protest. Heat unfolds in Suho's belly at the sweet sound.

“Sieun-ah, you don't know what you do to me,” Suho groans as he tightens his grip, movements getting rougher. His hand smacks against the bedding next to Sieun's head as he adjusts his angle, pace quickening. 

Sieun whimpers as his hands tighten their grip on Suho's upper arm and on his shoulder, so tight that it stings. His chest heaves as he loses his breath. Suho loves it the most when Sieun is overstimulated, and his grip gets so rough as he loses himself in pleasure, and his cheeks are pinkened, and his mouth is indecently slack, and—

“My baby,” Suho murmurs helplessly, “you'll remember how to make the coffee?” 

Sieun's breath hitches as Suho strips them faster, his ears slow to register Suho's words as he whines. 

When he finally does, his hazy stare turns into a glare.

He looks up at him with those eyes that are flustered and irritated even through his pleasure. It makes Suho's heart shiver. 

“That's it,” he tapers into a moan as he grins down at Sieun with brazen smugness, breathily saying, “fuck, I love when you make that face at me,” he pulls Sieun by his cheeks, “like a little brat.” 

Sieun glares harder, words garbled from Suho's grip, “Perv—”

Sieun's words are muffled by the rough press of Suho's mouth against his, and his half-hearted attempts to push Suho off—squirming in his grip all the while—result in his hands being held together above his head. They moan into each other's mouths as their movements get rougher, more frantic. 

“Love you,” Suho breathes into his mouth, endlessly fond as he tightens his grip on Sieun's wrists, watching as he reaches his pleasure, twitching and pulsing against him. 

As Suho follows quickly after, Sieun stares up at him with defiant eyes that look endlessly endearing through his flushed expression, his exhausted and sated body going slack in Suho's grip.  

“Crazy bastard.” 

A few minutes later, 

“Fuck, Sieun-ah, rain! The clothes!”

Suho scuttles over to the terrace, pulling his pants back on hastily as he goes. Sieun sits up on his elbows, and watches with an amused glint in his eyes as Suho pulls the door open and heads out, cursing as the rain grows heavier.

He collapses back against the bedding, smothering his endeared smile. 

Later, as Suho’s making them gamjajeon, oil splattering hot against the pan, he senses Sieun hovering behind him by the counter, freshly showered. He looks over his shoulder, and smiles. 

“Come here, I need help with the cooking,”

When Sieun waddles his way over, Suho reaches out behind him to pull Sieun's arms around his waist. 

Sieun awkwardly stands, arms wrapped around Suho in a backhug. Suho resumes his frying, pressing the pancake down against the pan. 

Silence. Rain continues to fall outside, pattering soft and light now. Then, 

“How is this helping?”

“Hm? Oh. Moral support.”

He can hear Sieun sigh, but he melts against Suho's back, all the same. Crowds in a little closer, wraps his arms a little tighter, and places his warm cheek against Suho's shoulder. 

When Suho moves to the side to grab salt, Sieun moves with him, like he’s his shadow. 

Suho smothers an endeared smile. 

Towards the end of orientation week, Suho and Sieun meet the entire gang at a pocha near Juntae’s university. When they arrive, Baku’s already got an arm around Juntae, gesturing enthusiastically with a soju glass in his hand at Hyuntak, who shakes his head at him from the opposite end. Youngyi’s seated by Hyuntak’s side, eyes wide in rapt attention. 

Juntae turns his reddened face at them as Suho pushes the flap aside for Sieun to waddle in. 

“Sieun-ah!” he shoots up, shaking Baku’s arm off him, “you’re here!” 

He desperately pulls Sieun to sit next to him, and he goes, confused.

Suho feels a smile twitch onto his face. “Hey, Seo Juntae, what’s got you so worked up?”

Baku downs his shot glass, slams it against the table as he bellows, “Yeon Sieun, you wouldn’t believe what happened!”

Juntae shushes him desperately.

When Baku’s finished, Sieun’s disbelieving stare grows wider, and wider. Juntae looks down at the table as if he wants to be swallowed up by the earth.

Suho takes a bite out of his skewer, unaffected.

Youngyi, “But I don’t understand, what’s the big deal?”

“He’s a slimy fucker, scum of the earth, that’s the big deal!” Hyuntak says, fuming. 

Juntae: “Sieun-ah, I promise, I’ll never associate with him! It was a mistake!”

He grabs Sieun’s hand. Sieun remains motionless, but manages, “That’s… You don’t have to…”

Baku shakes his head, then puts an arm around Juntae’s shoulder again. “Juntae-ya, just say the word the next time that bastard Seongje bothers you. Shit, who thought he’d be at the same university? Crazy.” He shudders. “There’s no justice in the world. Thank god I arrived here in time.”

Suho, “Who knows? Maybe he really did just want to say hi earlier, buddy. Think he’s had a change of heart?”

When he receives the entire group’s insulted, disbelieving stares, he puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, sorry! Sheesh.”

Juntae puts his head in his hands. 

A few hours into the night,

Youngyi, drunk and giggling into Suho’s shoulder, lifts her head up and says: “But I really do think that guy was trying to pull a move on you, Juntae-ya. He walked away with his tail between his legs when Baku and I got here.”

Baku gasps. He points his empty skewer stick at Youngyi, hand trembling. “You! I told you not to say that again.”

“Why can’t I?!”

Hyuntak solemnly shakes his head. “Not that guy. Never. No, if he lays a hand on our Juntae, I’ll kill him.”

Juntae goes red again, and buries his head against Sieun’s shoulder. “Sieun-ah, I swear…”

Sieun only pats at him wordlessly.

Youngyi sighs. “I suppose not everyone can have a love story as disgustingly sweet as those two, huh.”

Baku nods, and Hyuntak sighs. “Yeah.”

Suho blinks, mid-chew. “Huh? Who?”

They blink back at him.

Still later,

“No, no. You’re wrong. I think it was when we went on our trip. Am I right, Sieun-ah?”

“Are you deaf?” Youngyi throws back at Baku. “I’m telling you, I know. It was at the hospital. He told me.”

“I don’t believe you. They were acting lovey-dovey way before that! Right, Gotak!?”

Hyuntak nods, pensive. “Remember when Sieun got all drunk? You’re telling me nothing happened then?”

Suho sits, speechless. 

Sieun swipes Youngyi’s shot glass from across the table, and downs it one go.

Their friends continue bickering, rowdy and loud.

Suho finally nudges at Sieun’s ankle from under the table later, and catches his eyes. 

They smile at each other, slow, soft and gentle. The smoky air of the tent shrouds them in a hazy cloud, as their friends’ warmth permeates. 

It’s good, Suho thinks.

It’s more than good.