Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sunshine wakes Jihoon up with a throbbing headache. He takes a second to scan his surroundings and… can’t remember a single thing. Listing what he does notice grounds him, so he gives that a try. 

One: This is not their small, two-double-bed hotel room.

Two: A thin layer of water covers the floor– there’s a leak in the waterbed he’s on. 

Three: He is alone in this large bedroom, and his phone is missing.

Four: What time is it?

He gets to his feet and scrunches his eyes against the splash. A wave of dizziness overtakes him. 

Five: How much did he drink last night?

An ensuite bathroom lets him relieve himself. While washing his hands, he catches his reflection. 

Jihoon nearly screams. 

His unkempt, long hair is now short and dyed a bright pink . 

He reaches up with a wet hand, running his fingers down a strand. 

Nothing rubs off. His hair is, at least for now, permanently the colour of a flamingo. 

Six: His hair is pink.

He tries to ignore it, because dealing with his feelings means he’d lose his mind. Jihoon walks out to the common room– there is a common room . He hopes he isn’t paying for all this. 

“Wonwoo?”

The man in question is asleep on the floor in a full tuxedo, snoring soundly. He groans and covers his face with an arm, revealing part of the sleeve to be coated in glitter. 

“Too loud, Jihoon-ah…” 

Jihoon scoffs. “My hair is pink now, I don’t give a fuck! Where the hell are we?”

He peels his eyes open and sits up, looking around. 

Jihoon’s always been impatient. “Well?”

Wonwoo turns to him and shrugs. “I don’t know, I can’t see without my glasses.” 

Jihoon groans in frustration. He runs a hand through his hair as he checks the other rooms, all empty but clearly lived-in. Right as he returns to the main room, where Wonwoo now sits half-awake on the couch, a phone rings. They both look around, eventually yanking a smartphone out of the couch cushions. 

Junhui’s phone. It’s an unknown number. 

“Hello?” Jihoon answers on speaker-phone.

“Hi, who is this?” 

“Junnie?”

“Jihoon?” 

“Where are you?”

“Our hotel… where are you ?”

Wonwoo pipes up, “We don’t know, but it’s a hell of a lot nicer.” He’s found a packet of instant ramen in the cupboards of the kitchenette, ripping it open to eat the noodles dry. It grosses Jihoon out. 

“Do you… remember anything from last night?” Jihoon asks. 

“We went to the birthday party, then everyone got to the casino… I can’t remember much after the fourth drink but we got a car at one point…?” 

Wonwoo pulls a set of keys from his pocket, holding them out by the keyring. “These keys?” 

Jihoon shakes his head. “Car keys would have a lock remote– what do those open?” 

Metallic rattling comes from the other side of the line. “I think I know.” 

He suddenly remembers they’re a party of four. “Jun, do you know where Soonyoung is?” 

“What?! I thought he was with you.”

“Well, he isn’t .” 

Wonwoo sits beside Jihoon, having found his glasses, and leans towards the phone. “I know, it’s weird, right? Especially after the wedding.”

Jihoon turns to him. “...What wedding?”

Wonwoo chuckles like it’s obvious. “Yours, who else?” he says, pointing at his ring finger. 

Jihoon swears he can hear a blood vessel pop. 

He throws the phone at Wonwoo and finally sees… the ring . 

It’s the kind of fake gold that’s a bit too bright, but it sits on his finger with the perfect size. 

Seven: He is married to Kwon Soonyoung. 

Finally, Jihoon screams. 

– – o – –

Wonwoo sighs. “I’ve tried calling his phone four times, our front lobby, the casino reception, but it’s no use– nobody’s seen Soon.” 

Jihoon fidgets with the new ring on his finger without realizing, twisting it anxiously. He glances down and stops himself. 

“Should we go to Jun?” 

Wonwoo scratches his head. “I guess.” 

They wander the hotel to grab what they think will be useful– Jun’s phone, a lighter, a Swiss army knife, a few water bottles, hats and face masks, two Coke Zero cans, some plain clothes and expensive sunglasses that are not theirs, a towel, some hotel toiletries that are too nice to leave behind, three packs of instant ramen at Wonwoo’s insistence– to pack a backpack with and set out to the hotel lobby. 

Immediately, Jihoon realizes his loose black shirt and shorts are very out-of-place in what has to be a five-star hotel. 

Passersby clad in full designer give them looks when they step out of the elevator. A bellboy pushing a cart of expensive suitcases stops to stare. Even the valet pulls a face at Wonwoo’s glitter-covered ensemble. 

“Hello, I’m here to pick up a car for Jihoon Lee?” he tries. 

The valet scrolls his tablet, shaking his head. “Don’t see that name here…” 

“Maybe Wonwoo Jeon?” says Wonwoo from behind him. 

The valet shakes his head again with a pitiful frown. 

The two men exchange looks before saying at the same time, “Try Soonyoung Kwon?” 

That lights up the valet’s face. “Yes, we have a car under that name. A green Ford Mustang, license plate HWZ-1326?” 

Wonwoo and Jihoon exchange another glance of surprise. “That’s the one.” He hopes that sounded convincing. 

In a few steps, they get the keys and are off towards their old hotel’s address, Jun’s phone thankfully having an e-sim for GPS. Wonwoo had wanted to drive the ‘cool car’, and Jihoon is fine to be passenger. 

It’s a sweltering Nevada morning, so the AC is on full blast and Wonwoo’s suit jacket’s bunched up in the back seat. For the sake of their hangovers, they forego the radio. “Does your head hurt, too?” Wonwoo asks, looking over at a stoplight. Ridiculously big Burberry sunglasses sit on his nose. 

Jihoon pushes his own Prada ones up his face. “More out of confusion than from alcohol.”

“Makes sense.” The light turns green, and Wonwoo returns attention to the road. 

He stays on a firm mission to ignore thinking about… it … and fiddles with the glove compartment until it pops open. The first thing to catch his eye is a small binder, labeled with yesterday’s date on the front. 

Jihoon knows what’s about to happen, he just has to prepare himself. 

Photo #1: Jun wears a headpiece of multiple fruits and lays on a leather seat, getting a lower back tattoo. Jihoon points and laughs from the side with pink hair. 

Photo #2: Wonwoo stiffly sits on a velvet couch, face scrunched in agony as a gorgeous woman in a sparkly bikini poses about to kiss his cheek. Soonyoung smiles wide over her shoulder, holding up two peace signs. He wears a birthday hat that’s too small for him.

Jihoon takes a breath. Seeing Soonyoung’s face for the first time today, even in a picture, churns complex feelings within him. Nothing looks different about the man– at least not here. 

Photo #3: Two four-cut strips from a photobooth. The first is of Wonwoo and Jun. They pose normal for the first two, and laugh through the last two. The other is with Soonyoung and Jihoon. It starts with arms over shoulders, then a back hug, then a cheek kiss, then Jihoon grabbing the other man by the collar for a kiss. All four of them wear tuxedos. 

Jihoon spends a good, long minute staring at the photobooth pictures. Judging off these, you’d think they are lovers. Maybe even engaged, or in this case, married. 

He’s known Soonyoung for a long time, almost seven years, but they’ve only ever been friends. He knows of nearly every person in the man’s dating history, but they’d only ever been women. Jihoon’s only ever dated women. By all accounts, they should both be straight. 

…Right?

He can’t say he’s never thought about it. Soonyoung could very well like men, too, and Jihoon’s just never asked. There are moments, though, where he can’t deny magnetism. 

Watching Soonyoung’s performances, where he shines brightest. The optimism he’s so eager to apply in any situation. How affectionate he’s always been. The secret smiles only they share. How he’d always, always choose Soonyoung first.

He closes the photobook before making it to the next page and sets it back in the glove box, admittedly slamming it shut a bit too hard. 

“Jihoon-ah, what’s got you mad?” Wonwoo says. 

Jihoon thinks about it. It would sound dumb, but he’s at an impasse. It’s not off the table to try asking. 

“How did you realize you were into men, Wonwoo?” 

He sees the other man’s eyebrows raise over the sunglasses at that. Wonwoo blows out a breath. “I guess… high school, around second year. My best friend had joined the swimming team, so I’d come to his practices sometimes. I would be doing my homework, quietly in the corner on a beach chair, but kids liked to pick on me for it. The team was mixed grade, which meant the senior popular boy was a member, too. He was the only one who ever stood up for me, and treated me like I was worth talking to. He wasn’t bad-looking, either. I was too scared to ever say more than thank you, but I regretted that for a long time. He graduated the next year. I never saw him again.” 

“Oh.”

Wonwoo sighs. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I had plenty of room to make up for it in college, if you know what I mean.” He pumps his eyebrows up with a smirk, and Jihoon’s lip curls on reflex. 

“Kind, fit men… you’ve got a type, huh?” he quips. 

Wonwoo scoffs. “Hey, don’t forget I’m driving here, I could easily run us over one of these cliffs.” 

Jihoon laughs, Wonwoo follows suit. 

He turns those notes of Wonwoo’s crush around in his head. 

Soonyoung is definitely good-looking. 

He feels valued when they talk. 

Jihoon can catch himself feeling a genuine space in his life without talking to or seeing him for a while. 

If there’s one person who’s always in his corner, it would be Soonyoung. 

He twists the ring again while in thought, grateful to see their drab hotel building coming up on the left. Any distraction at this point , he thinks, I’ll take anything else.  

Jun waits for them at the front, holding a rusted money box. His outfit can only be described as 70s-discotheque, complete with sparkling makeup applied fairly recent. An orange ascot and huge square sunglasses complete the look. 

He waves to them, and Jihoon’s getting out of the car before Wonwoo can even finish parking. 

“Thank goodness you’re still in one piece,” Jun greets. 

Jihoon’s eyebrow goes up. “Why shouldn’t I be?” 

Jun seems to realize something and gets nervous. “Don’t worry about it, come inside.”

Nobody in Las Vegas would spend noon in their hotel room, so the place holds an eerie silence. The doors all look the exact same, so he leaves it to Jun to lead them the right way. Midway down the hall, a keycard fits into a door on the right. 

Only one of two beds is messy. Their suitcases still lay open on the floor from getting ready for the party, nothing missing except the clothes on their back. The only thing off putting about the scene is its serenity. 

Jun heaves a sigh, pointing at a side door. “There’s a cat in the bathtub.” 

Wonwoo gasps and rushes over to the bathroom. Coos are heard for a bit, then he returns with a… green cat. It seems unbothered by its colour, meowing happily in his arms. 

“Why is it…?” Jihoon begins. 

Jun shrugs. 

Wonwoo’s voice is two octaves higher as he scratches the cat’s neck. “Look at this little baby, she looks like an alien, how sweet!” His face drops. “Why?” 

“I don’t know, it came that way!” Jun says, hands raised. 

“Does it have a collar, or a tag or something?” 

Wonwoo lifts it to check. “I don’t think she does, no. I’ll call her Fiona for now.” 

Jun’s confusion becomes understanding as he and Wonwoo say simultaneously, “Shrek.”

Jihoon’s irritation feels like a rash crawling up his neck. He rubs at his nape. “I’m glad we’re making friends, but we’ve got a Soonyoung to find, guys.” 

Jun smirks, but his eyes stay sincere as he says, “Already in your honeymoon period, huh?” 

“I DON’T REMEMBER THE WEDDING!” 

Jun winces. “Sorry I asked.” He sits on the edge of one bed and holds the money box in his lap. “Let’s try taking a crack at this instead.” Wonwoo fishes the keys from his pocket and they click into the lock, turning in a nail-biting second. 

The lid swings back to reveal some generous handfuls of casino chips– black, purple and yellow, each sporting an engraved 100, 500 and 1000 respectively– and a small tiger plushie holding a business card in its paws. 

“We’re rich? ”

“A plushie, really?” 

“I think Fiona’s hungry, do we have anything to give her?”

Jun and Jihoon turn to Wonwoo, straight-faced. He lets Fiona down and dusts himself off, muttering, “Not the time, not the time.” 

Jihoon grabs the business card. It’s the address of a strip club– probably the same one from the photos. The cardstock carries the rancid scent of cheap perfume, and he can’t hold back a grimace. “I guess we start here, given the hint.”

– – o – –

Wonwoo immediately looks uncomfortable when they enter the club. “I don’t know why, but I can tell this place wasn’t good for me last night.” 

Jun nudges him with an elbow, saying, “Worried you actually had fun?” A glare from the other man quickly becomes a small trade of insults.

Jihoon tries to ignore them as he talks to the manager. “I think we visited past midnight? I don’t remember much, but–” 

“Oh, no need– your group paid well for a VIP package, we’ve got all the receipts,” the woman says with a smile. “I can show you to the room, if you’d like. I’ll even ask Sapphire to come over if she’s not busy.”

“Free?” he asks.

“Sir, you paid nearly two thousand for just one room last night. So yes, this is free.” 

He tries to stay cool about that monster of an invoice, but his friends stop messing around to yell, “How much?!” from behind him.

The ‘VIP room’ holds a wraparound velvet couch, multiple ice buckets of champagne, three stripper poles and a corner control panel of flashing buttons. The air holds a faint scent of disinfectant. Jihoon isn’t comforted by the deja vu he gets from the sight, heart rate only climbing. Jun almost plops down on the couch before Wonwoo and Jihoon yell, “No, don’t!” He rises, disgruntled. 

A tall, blonde woman enters– Sapphire, Jihoon recalls from the photo album. Her face lights up at the sight of them. “Come back for another taste, fellas?” she asks with a wink at Jun. 

Jihoon shakes his head, wide-eyed at the implications. “Sorry, miss, but no. We are looking for a friend of ours from last night, just trying to retrace our steps.” He pulls out Jun’s phone – Hey, I’ve been looking for that! – and opens the gallery to find a picture of Soonyoung, but its recent photos make him pause. 

Many are blurry, but of the focused ones there’s all sorts of evidence. Jihoon doesn’t want to unpack any of it. Not in a strip club, not without Soonyoung beside him, so he scrolls a tad too far and finds a selfie of Jun and Soonyoung from their vacation to Japan last month. Both have face paint decorating their cheeks; cat whiskers and tiger stripes. Jihoon can’t help his chuckle. 

He turns the phone to her and Sapphire nods. “Yes, I remember your cute friend! You guys left together, but I’m not sure where.” She thinks for a second, then seems to recall something. With the grace of a magician’s dove, she pulls a receipt from the couch cushions next to Jun, handing it to Wonwoo. 

“Last night, your friend asked me for a marker, of all things– I couldn’t forget that lil’ note,” Sapphire says, giggling. 

Wonwoo frowns at the front of the short receipt. “Fly Linq Zipline… when did we…?”

Jun clears his throat. “You don’t remember Soonyoung being excited for the ferris wheel, then seeing the zipline and wanting to do that more? Then regretting it immediately?” 

Jihoon and Wonwoo both turn to him. “How do you remember that?” 

He shrugs, replying, “For most of the night, I was sober. Somebody had to drive us around!”

Jihoon’s attention returns to the receipt, noticing dark stains smudge some words. “Flip it over.” 

Wonwoo complies, and the three men read it together. 

In bold blue marker, the words “SHARK REEF” are scrawled across the back. Sapphire peers over and makes a noise of surprise. 

They all look at her, not hiding their confusion. She raises an eyebrow. “Shark Reef Aquarium? Like the one on the Strip?” 

At their silence, she huffs and conjures her phone from who-knows-where to show them the building. “Close to the High Roller, too, hard to miss!”

Wonwoo’s face is one of stunned processing, Jun starts asking Sapphire questions about the route, and Jihoon sighs, pinching his nose bridge. 

Only Kwon Soonyoung could make him run in circles like this.

Chapter Text

Like most other buildings in this heat-ridden city, the aquarium is a beige palace of sandstone and stucco. A gleaming gold hotel juts out from its side, the words Mandalay Bay bolded across the top. Under the shade of the entryway arch, the three men stand off to the side to count their change for tickets. 

The amount ends up being plenty– something about ten-dollar Tuesdays– and they get in, albeit without access to the 4D Megalodon Experience . Jihoon thinks they’ll survive, but Jun looks impossibly disappointed. 

Jihoon catches himself searching the face of every person in the crowd in desperate attempts. He stands beside Wonwoo, who strokes the backs of stingrays in a much calmer state. Jun’s face is nearly plastered to the glass of the angelfish tank across from them. 

“Jihoon-ah, you kinda remind me of these guys,” Wonwoo murmurs. 

“Really?” Jihoon answers without turning. 

“They’ve got this wide smile and cute face beneath their camouflaging colours– just like you. I don’t know, it’s–”

His throat goes dry when meeting Jihoon’s killer gaze. He quickly fishes his hand out of the touch pool, and the small stingray bolts away. “Right, right, we’ve got a mission.” 

They head further into the aquarium, Wonwoo wordlessly yanking Jun away from his fish by the elbow, and make it to the food court. It’s sparsely packed for a weekday, but young children still dart around tables and a small group of elementary students occupy one corner on a field trip. Jihoon’s ready to keep going, but at the behest of the other two, he lets them have brunch. 

Jihoon doesn’t take long to decide– grabbing an apple and one of the lukewarm Coke Zero cans they’d brought, he settles at a corner table. Wonwoo joins him first with a tray of decent-looking pasta. Jun follows later with a slice of cheese pizza and grape juice. 

The other two look at Jihoon with doubt. He bites into the red delicious without breaking eye contact, conveying enough satisfaction for them to return to their meals.

A tense silence grips the table while they eat. Jun and Wonwoo exchange nervous looks when Jihoon spaces out, eyes trained on his ring. 

The apple doesn’t take long to disappear. Wonwoo coughs, pointing at his meal with his fork. “This is really good, anyone want a bite?” he asks, only looking at Jihoon. Jun offers a sheepish smile. “I’d offer, too, but I only have one slice…” He holds up his bottle of juice. “You can have a sip of this if you want, Jihoon.” 

Wonwoo shoots him a glare when Jihoon snaps to attention. “No, no, I’m fine– enjoy your food,” he says, raising his cola can. “This baby’s all I need.” 

Jun grimaces. “Isn’t that Coke… warm? Want some ice?” He’s up on his feet and running to the soda fountain before Jihoon can protest, collecting ice in a cup and bringing it back. Without hesitation, he reaches for the Coke can in Jihoon’s hand. 

A sudden wave of panic overtakes Jihoon. This is his Coke. He’d brought it, opened it, felt its warm fizz go down his throat with each sip. He couldn’t let it go just like… that . 

Jihoon tugs his can away from Jun’s grasp, but the man is persistent. He’s got his fingertips around the can’s top, pulling it back. “Oh, come on, Ji, have it cold instead! It’s nearing forty degrees outside!” 

Jihoon tugs at it again, but meets Jun’s concerned eyes. Reluctantly, he peels his fingers from the can, letting Jun take care of him. A small smile worms its way across his face. “Thanks,” he mutters when Jun’s stuck a straw into the cup’s lid and pushed the chilled drink forward. Jun sits, considerably happier and a bit shy. “Don’t worry about it, any time.”

As much as he’d fought, the soda is too refreshing for him to stand by his protests. He lets an exhale slip, surprising himself. Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his plate as he says with a smirk, “Just like a cat.” 

Jihoon pushes Wonwoo’s head into his pasta, grazing his nose with Alfredo sauce. Him and Jun cackle while Wonwoo curses and goes to find tissues. 

– – – – – 

Further into Shark Reef, they’re presented with two long aquarium tunnels, each leading to the same room. Ever impatient, Wonwoo takes the one on the right with a finger salute towards Jihoon. Jun scurries behind him, leaving Jihoon to take the one on the left. The larger crowd streaming into the walkway disconcerts him, but he still takes a breath and shakes himself out of it. It’s just an aquarium, not a school auditorium. He’s twenty-seven, not twelve and surrounded by instruments. 

The walls and ceiling of the tunnel are glass, displaying a large tank teeming with all sorts of marine life. Through the translucent teal water, Jihoon spots the watery figures of Wonwoo and Jun on the other side. He waves, trying to get their attention, but a little boy beside them waves back instead. If he weren’t wrapped up in his task, it might even be cute. Before he can continue, a large flat fish blocks his view. Its glassy eye meets his gaze with what Jihoon knows is annoyance, and he backs away from the tunnel wall. 

Jihoon goes down the tunnel slowly, watching the people more than anything else. The shadow of a shark passes over the crowd, getting ooh s and aah s with phones pointed to shoot. Jihoon tries to use this to get in front of the group, but a blue polo blocks his path. One of the employees holding clipboards, Dave as his name tag provides, regards him with a polite smile and… recognition?

“I’m sorry, is your name…” he studies a paper in his clipboard’s stack, “Jihoon Lee?” 

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. The mystery only deepens. “...Yes?” 

Dave laughs. “Oh, thank goodness, I was afraid I’d gotten someone else with pink hair.” 

At Jihoon’s surprise, he adds, “You see all sorts of hair colours in Vegas.” The employee clears his throat and flips down a few more papers. Jihoon’s anxiety fills the silence. They’d been careful, paid their way into the aquarium, even had a small meal– what’s wrong now?

Dave hums. “Here we are.” He pulls two papers from his board, handing them over with a practiced customer-service smile. Jihoon accepts them with trepidation, something Dave catches. “Oh, don’t worry, I was told to give you these by someone else– you’re not in trouble, friend.” With that, he claps a hand to Jihoon’s shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Someone really cares about you, I hope you know that.” 

In the next moment, Dave blends back into the crowd and Jihoon stays in place holding a document and scrap of paper. He turns away from the crowd to read them, relying more on the water lights. 

The first paper’s the car rental log for their Mustang, filled out in Soonyoung’s unmistakable, steady penmanship. The second looks like it was ripped from a newspaper, thin and yellowing at the edges, but there’s a hand-written note on one side. 

Hi, baby.

A warm feeling invades Jihoon’s chest, familiar and cloying. He closes his eyes for a second too long, hoping it’ll ground him for the rest, before continuing.

You’re probably worried about me, like only you can be. I hope the others aren’t making your search difficult, hehe. 

I promise I’m fine, there was just somewhere I needed to go. If you’ve found this, you’re close, trust me. Who else would you trust over your own hus–

Jihoon averts his eyes. He can’t bring himself to read the word, to see it scrawled by Soonyoung’s hand and addressed to him. A mom stands nearby, holding her toddler up to the glass and passing him nosy looks every now and then. He gives her one sideways glance, and she steps further away. His jaw tenses, and he continues. 

No matter what, I know you can do it. Consider this… our first challenge together. Sure, we’ve had many fights already, when are we not fighting, but this is a real task. Use our friends, use your beautiful brain, and you’ll make it, Jihoonie. You’ll find me. 

– yours, KSY

p.s. Here’s a little hint for you : Do you remember our last visit to the aquarium? What did we buy?

Jihoon stares at the signature. He can’t stop outlining the word with his eyes, tracing their presence on the paper with his finger. Yours . Soonyoung is his . He’s somewhere out there, waiting for Jihoon to whisk him back home and live out whatever delusion the ring on his left hand promises. 

Young’s always been a stupid idiot. 

Jihoon looks up from the note, blinking back an irritating burn at his eyes, when a large fish– no, stingray – passes by. Its pale underside is exposed, showing off its hidden face. Two crescent eyes and a serene smile. Wonwoo was right.

– – o – –

The three leave the aquarium with the new information and two plushies, the latter courtesy of Wonwoo and Jun leaving the tunnel early and ‘getting curious’. Jihoon gladly takes the back seat on the drive to the car dealership, handing over the rental document but folding the note into his pocket. That note is a whisper between two parts of the same whole; it isn’t for anyone else. He rubs the pocketed folded paper with a thumb and forefinger, memorizing its coarse texture. He falls back into his listing habit, now just the same three notes over and over. 

One: The note is real. 

Two: It’s addressed to him from Soonyoung. 

Three: It’s in his pocket now. 

Jun’s been going on and on about the gift shop’s contents, lamenting the lack of money and space to buy it all. Wonwoo, now a passenger, nurses a bottle of water as he reads the rental doc for the fiftieth time. 

“How did they just… let us take a car?” Wonwoo wonders aloud. 

Jun stops to reply, “We’re not criminals or anything. Plenty of tourists rent cars every day.” 

Wonwoo tsks. “It just doesn’t add up. Like for one, the cost. Who’s paying the 200 dollars?” 

Jun hits the brakes a little harder at the next stop light. “Did you say two hundred, or is the heat getting to me?” 

Wonwoo shakes his head, pointing at the paper and saying, “Right here, it’s $231 for one day. We need to turn this in by seven PM, or pay another $231.” 

Seven o’ clock. Soonyoung’s given them a time limit of five hours, but Jihoon doesn’t give into the illusion of hours being left. They’re in a city they’ve never been before, going on a scavenger hunt for a man that should ideally be one phone call away. 

”Was there anything else Soonyoung left us, Jihoon-ah?” Wonwoo asks. 

He nearly denies it before remembering the P.S. note. 

The last time Jihoon visited an aquarium was three months ago, for his cousin’s daughter’s birthday party. Growing up an only child means cousins are practically your siblings, which also meant skipping out wasn’t an option. She’d been sneaky with a random question about his work schedule a month in advance, leaving him alibi-less. Jihoon had opened the mailed invite while out for lunch with Soonyoung, and with zero hesitation, the man had volunteered to be his plus-one. It was just an aquarium both had already visited as kids, but Soonyoung had been just as mystified as the ten-year-old birthday girl. Jihoon had laughed so much that day his cheeks hurt– a commonality around his best friend. Near the end of the party, they’d visited the gift shop for a souvenir. 

Soonyoung had bought a water gun.

Jihoon’s theories click into place, and he quickly leans into the space between the front seats.

“Turn the car around, we’re going to the Bellagio.”

– – o – –

Jun is picky about leaving their car somewhere safe, so they pay the egregious fee for a parking garage spot. He holds up and shakes the lock box with an apologetic grimace. “We’ve got collateral?” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes and steps out into the midday heat, making a beeline towards the Fountains. 

No matter how many movies you could see them in, or pictures online, nothing beats watching the water dance in precise coordination with your own eyes. The trio occupies a spot near the railing’s center, surrounded by a myriad of people– gamblers taking a smoke break, young tourists tossing coins of wishes, families trying to get a timed shot for their photo albums, photographers with expensive equipment monitoring the water’s every move. As painfully hot as it is, the people are determined to catch a glimpse of the Fountains of Bellagio in action. 

They take a moment to watch the fountain’s movements, entranced. The water glistens when it catches the sunlight, sending brilliant sparkles across each spray. 

Jun blows out a breath. “It’s beautiful.” 

Wonwoo hums, adjusting his glasses. “You can say that again.” 

“...It’s beautiful?” 

“No, not literally–” 

“Shh!” Jihoon points at a Roman pillar a few metres away, and the other two follow his gesture to see… there’s something tied to it. An intimidating security guard stands close to the pillar, lowering his sunglasses when they approach. Jihoon’s heart skips in panic. 

“Pink hair, name’s Gee… something?” he questions. 

Jihoon nods, choosing to look over the guard’s ignorance on pronunciation. With that signal, the man undoes the thick knot of black paracord and lets down a lion plushie. 

Jun accepts it, offering a meek ‘Thanks’, and he salutes them before returning to his post. 

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, lips quirked with amusement. “So we’re going to the MGM now?” He clicks his tongue. “A shame, we just paid for Bellagio parking.” 

Jihoon’s impatience leaks into his speech while they walk. “You’re awfully calm for someone whose lifeline of a phone is missing.” 

He sees Wonwoo’s composure stutter for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough for Jihoon to glean the truth. 

“Uh, no, that doesn’t matter to me– I’m just going with the flow.” 

Jihoon chuffs. “Right.” 

The sun is blazing, the walkways are packed, but they press on. Jihoon doesn’t have the time to let his thoughts stray, so they don’t. He’s definitely not thinking of what it’ll feel like to see Soonyoung after all this, how he’ll need to confront his feelings about it all. How he can’t say with complete certainty an annulment is necessary. 

A drunk mistake is a drunk mistake, but everything happens for a reason. Jihoon, of all people, is a skeptic with many things– ghosts, astrology, MBTIs, fortune-telling, the list goes on. The one stubborn outlier is the idea of fate, of some mysterious red string tying his lifeline to every other person on this earth. Something refused to waver about that belief. 

That same something tugs him along by the collar, dragging him around a foreign city on a mindless hunt for the man holding his red string’s end.

A nudge at his side interrupts his train of thoughts. 

“Is the heat getting to you, Ji?” Jun asks from beside him. He seems casual enough, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes that’s been there all day. Jihoon shrugs. “Maybe it is.” That isn’t too far from the truth– he may as well blame his insanity on the blazing-hot weather. 

He can’t use that excuse for long when they go through the grand doors of the MGM, air conditioning blanketing them like a salve. They all groan with relief once inside, earning a raised eyebrow from the doorman. 

The casino isn’t too hard to find– it’s the loudest room in the vicinity. They stand before flashing slot machines and dealing tables of delusion, and Jihoon feels a sense of dread at needing to gamble their way to the next hint.

“We need to get our money for these chips,” Jun says. “Can we do that before finding whatever scrap of paper Soonyoung’s tucked into this hellhole?” 

Wonwoo’s not the one being questioned here. Jihoon nods once, and they make their way to the cashier’s cage. 

An intimidating woman sits across from them, a scowl chiseled to her face. Aside from her employee’s uniform, two large crystals dangle from her ears. She chews gum almost imperceptibly, blowing mint air into Jihoon’s face as she speaks. 

“Are you cashing in or out?” An unfittingly-chipper voice comes out of the sentinel before them. 

Jun sets the lockbox on the counter, slipping the key from Wonwoo’s pocket and clicking it open. He quickly stacks the chips in neat groups of eight, sorting by colour. Even the cashier looks impressed. 

“Cashing out,” Junhui says proudly, pushing the stacks forward. 

The woman smiles as she holds up a small collecting tray. Without blinking, she sweeps an arm around the chips and towards her, knocking all of Jun’s stacks into one uncoordinated pile. 

She grins at Jun’s flustering and Jihoon’s seething. “One moment, I’ll be back shortly with your money, in cash.” Once the door to the money counting room shuts behind her, Jun groans in frustration. 

“She watched me do that, liked it, then destroyed it all– what a sadist!” he pouts. 

Wonwoo rubs their friend’s back, reassuring, “These cashiers see the worst people every day, I’m sure it’s not personal.” 

Jun huffs. “It sure felt like it.” 

Even when doing a side task, Jihoon can’t keep from watching his surroundings. There’s no way a clue would be hidden under that used drink napkin, or in the shifted ceiling tile, but he looks anyway. He wonders if the face under the sombrero near the blackjack table turns around to be Soonyoung’s, or if he’ll walk by in a dealer’s outfit wearing a devilish grin. The suspense is killing him; curiosity threatens to swallow Jihoon whole. 

The cashier returns with a collecting box full of money, banded into stacks. She sets it down on her end of the counter, one hand firmly still on the side. 

“Your total has come out to $11,350 in USD.” She adds flatly, “Congratulations.”

Right as Jun reaches for the money, she holds up a finger. “Bup bup, not done yet.” She peers down at something on her desk, squinting at it. 

“This was noted with special instructions to be handed off to you,” she says, holding the object up– a crisp white envelope with silver calligraphy writing Save the Date over the front. 

Jihoon looks at it, frozen in horror. Mildly amused, Wonwoo accepts it instead. The cashier pushes forward the money, and Jun carefully packs it into their backpack with a tight smile of restraint. 

Wonwoo flips the card over, ripping through its sticky closure. He pulls from it a commemorative postcard with a generic cartoon of a bride and groom on one side. 

“We got married at the Little Church of the West,” he reads off the back. With a smile, he holds the postcard out to the other two. “I guess we know our next destination.” 

Jun, now done packing, huffs a sigh. “Really? Without even taking a minute to enjoy our trip?” He gestures around them. “We’re in the MGM Grand, for crying out loud!” 

Jihoon crosses his arms, feeling a familiar frustration bubble up in his chest. “And?”

Jun’s eyes dart between Jihoon and Wonwoo. 

“And…” 

Wonwoo makes cut-throat motions out of the corner of Jihoon’s eye. 

“And we should continue!” Jun finishes. His smile is more fearful than anything else. “We should definitely keep going, Soonyoung is waiting on us!” 

Jihoon can’t hold his serious demeanour for long around Jun. He sighs fondly. “Or maybe, we play just one game, hmm, Junnie?” 

Jun’s eyes widen as Jihoon leads him to the nearest roulette table. Wonwoo scoffs. They take a seat at the end, and ask for twenty dollars’ worth of chips. 

Jihoon’s mind goes blank as the wheel ticks around. He feels a little tension unwind from his shoulders, and shares a smile with his friends. 

Surely Soonyoung could handle waiting just a little longer .

Chapter Text

A casino is built to be so overwhelming, so distracting, that you lose your sense of time. They rarely have clocks or windows for this reason– nobody cares when their life savings are all bet on red. 

Wonwoo steeples his fingers on the blackjack table, peering at his cards over his glasses. A sheen of sweat coats his forehead, and he’s rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt despite the central air conditioning. Jihoon and Jun flank him on either side, watching carefully. There are others at the table playing, too, but they don’t have two sizable stacks of black chips waiting on their next move. 

He taps the table, and the dealer places two cards in each stack. Eighteen and twenty. Jun squeezes Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

The dealer flips his third card over. 

It's seventeen. 

The rest of the table groans, but the trio erupts into cheers. Jihoon nearly spills his mojito when they embrace and jump in a spin. With a satisfied grin, Wonwoo takes his four chip towers and leaves the table, swinging a leg around his barstool like a cowboy dismounting a saddle. Jun’s nearly shaking with excitement as he holds out their collecting tray to him. 

“Feels good to win, huh?” Jihoon sighs. 

Wonwoo stretches his arms over his head in a show of smug confidence. He’s been in his element since they began, and it sort of terrifies Jihoon. 

He passes Wonwoo’s beer back to him, along with Jun’s phone. To Wonwoo’s raised eyebrow, Jihoon supplies, “We’ve been getting a couple texts and calls from Mingyu, I figured you’d want to handle that.” Wonwoo doesn’t need to be told twice– he taps the speed dial contact and holds it to his ear while hurrying away. 

It’s a moment Jihoon has often made fun of or groaned at; that deep concern every couple seems to have when their other half isn’t in a ten-foot radius. He could never wrap his head around the feeling’s necessity. They weren’t in active danger or anything, so why bother? 

Since this morning, it’s been slowly dawning on him that he bothers . 

He wants to blame his potent drink for these thoughts, but they’re more truthful than he’d like to admit. 

Jun collects their money with glee while Wonwoo stands to the side on the phone, all narrowed eyes and baritone whispers into his cupped hand. Jihoon’s left with a mojito that’s more ice than rum, and a postcard promising eternal love. 

He turns the souvenir in his hands, inspecting each word and colour. The card can’t be worth more than two bucks, but its meaning is priceless. Even just holding it; feeling it rub against the cheap ring on his finger that he’s in no hurry to remove, is frightening. 

Wonwoo’s walking back with a dopey smile on his face, and Jun’s finished with the money. 

“How is everything, lover boy?” Jihoon drawls. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “They’re great, thanks,” he says, passing the phone back to Jun. “Mingyu says hello, and to be careful of swindlers.” 

Jihoon chuckles. “That man is the only one who’d ever fall for them– we should be telling him that.”

The three share a laugh, exiting the casino with a hefty amount of winnings, but their joy doesn’t last long. The once-bright midday sun’s now inching towards the horizon, leaving a darkening sky in its wake. 

Jihoon can’t keep his hands from shaking as he wakes Jun’s phone. The lock screen reads ‘6:02’ over the top. 

They’re nearly out of time. 

Jun’s hands are already on Jihoon’s shoulders, holding firm. “Hey, hey, don’t panic– we’ve still got the car, we’re nearly there!” 

He looks to Wonwoo, desperate for backup. The other man shrugs before sputtering out, “Y– yeah, we’re completely fine, Jihoon, an hour is plenty of time?” The last part comes out more like a question than a reassurance. 

Jihoon tries to take a steadying breath, but it hitches. His body moves faster than his mind as he power-walks across the street. They don’t have a moment to waste; a pounding metronome in his head counts each second down. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

A small part of him knows how irrational this deadline is– from today’s winnings alone, they could easily pay off the car’s rental fee, but it’s about the principle. Soonyoung’s waiting for them, depending on them– depending on him . 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

In a blur, they’ve reached the parking garage. Jihoon beelines to the first green car he sees, pulling at the door handle once. It doesn’t budge. He pulls again, harder. Then three more times, his frustration growing with each yank. 

Tick. Tick. Ti–

“Jihoon-ah!” It’s Wonwoo, prying him from the car and holding his arms down. He looks up at the man through watery eyes, fighting the urge to scrub at his face. He’s still unshakable, still strong, he refuses to break down when they’re so close. 

All he sees on his friend’s face is pity. 

“Our car’s over there,” Wonwoo murmurs, gesturing his head behind Jihoon. He turns around and sees Jun waving three rows away, one foot already in the car. A hand on his chin turns his attention back. 

“Breathe,” Wonwoo commands, and Jihoon does. A breath he didn’t notice he’d been holding releases weakly, and he fills his lungs with new air. The garage smells like motor oil, stamped cigarette buds and dirt, but his face doesn’t feel so hot anymore. 

Wonwoo wraps an arm around his shoulder and leads him to the car quietly. He doesn’t make a fuss about his freak-out, and Jihoon is grateful for it. 

He gets into the back and hands the postcard to driver Jun for the address. While filling out the navigation, he asks, “Is everything okay, Ji?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice doesn’t betray him with a quiver, even in a lie. Junhui, ever the sweet concerned friend he is, holds questioning eye contact for a second before letting it go, starting the car instead. Jihoon lets his head fall back against his middle seat, taking a minute to calm down. Wonwoo glances over his shoulder from the passenger’s side, eyebrows pinched with worry. He shoots the man a thumbs-up, and the matter’s dropped. 

Jihoon is fine. Or at least, he will be in an hour, when this is all over. 

– – o – –

They park a block away from the venue and walk the rest of the way to avoid getting stuck behind a large wedding procession ahead of them. It sits on a beautifully-manicured property, surrounded by fairy lights and cedar trees. To their luck, everyone’s waiting around the back of the building, so the front’s clear for entry.

Spoken too soon. When the doors open, the trio’s immediately in a busy chapel of partygoers. An older man, close to the entrance and holding a hot dog, watches them curiously. Jihoon dodges the impending question by ducking into a small door he hopes is a manager’s office. 

The Little Church is already a small building, so the office is almost broom-closet-sized; by the time Jun squeezes in, Jihoon’s sandwiching between the desk and his friends makes him regret being first. A scrawny man in a linen suit sits opposite them, hands crossed and eyes knowing. 

“Ah, Mister Lee! Congratulations!” he greets, tone casual like they’re old friends. 

A silence fills the room as Jihoon’s throat is seized and face reddens. He fidgets with his ring and avoids eye contact. Before the manager makes a scene about it, Wonwoo clears his throat. 

“Hey, John. Thanks for your work last night, but we’re not here to chat. Our other friend Soonyoung should’ve stopped by and left us something– would you know where it is?” 

The manager– John – nods slow, smoothing down his pomade-slick hair. He swivels in his chair to a small file cabinet behind him, popping open the third drawer and rifling through the documents. 

“ Aaaand… ” he mutters, “here we are!” John places a glossy sheet before them, white save for a crudely-drawn treasure map in what looks like orange crayon. Jun gently picks it up and flips the map. 

A huge picture is printed on the other side– a candid shot of Soonyoung and Jihoon standing together under a floral arch, beaming as they hold up linked hands. Confetti and the spray of champagne foam shower the scene from off-frame, but Jihoon can only focus on the happiness of his own face. It’s slightly flushed, but glowing with a joy he thought impossible. His gaze moves to the man holding him like a lifeline, and Soonyoung is looking at him. Not at the camera like he is, but smiling at his face. A sparkle sits in Soonyoung’s eyes, like he’s watching a celestial body. Like Jihoon’s his center of gravity. 

Distantly, he can hear Jun cluck his tongue with affection. A hand comes to his shoulder and squeezes, and Jihoon gently grabs the wrist, looking up at Jun. All he gets is a fond look, one so profound he’s stuck wondering why it’s for him. This situation’s a mess, this picture shouldn’t exist, but his friends are all-too-calm about it. 

He offers a small smile, something fitting for the moment and not heavy with implications. Wonwoo takes the photo from Jun, looking over the map side. In an instant, Jihoon feels this irrational need to flip it back, to keep that tableau of happiness in his line of sight, but a poise he’s honed over decades lets him keep his dignity and observe the map instead. 

It’s a simple drawing, but also vague. A dotted line comes out of what Jihoon assumes is the chapel, loops around aimlessly on the page, then attaches itself to a house. 

No label for whose house, but it’s not hard to connect the dots. Or in this case, dashes. 

The three nod and start to leave, giving their thanks to John. Just as Wonwoo trails out behind Jun, John calls out, “Wait!” 

Jihoon spins on his heel, a little nervous. The manager opens a desk drawer and procures a ring box, pushing it across the desk’s mahogany surface with a grin. He’s not malicious about it, but might as well be. Jihoon’s heart sits at his throat as he takes it, trying to smile but knowing it’s closer to a grimace. His palms are clammy holding the box in his cupped hands, so small but significant. Carefully, he pulls the lid off, and his breath hitches. 

A platinum band, holding two precious diamonds in its center. Its polish lets the sides darken from certain angles to a near-black. The inside is engraved, small letters spelling out ‘HxW’. 

He doesn’t think twice, immediately pulling the fake gold off his left hand and replacing it with this work of art. Of course, the ring’s size is perfect. It sits on his finger like a puzzle piece slotting into place; like he’s been wearing it all his life. 

Jihoon holds his hand out to the light and admires the band. John ‘oohs’ from his seat, craning to get a look himself. 

“That’s one beautiful ring. Better than those crappy ones we’ve got here, I’ll tell you that much.” The manager whistles, leaning back in his chair. “Mister Kwon’s really outdone himself.” 

Jihoon chuckles, suddenly bashful. The diamonds catch the lighting of John’s Tiffany lamp and twinkle against the platinum. 

Yeah, he has. 

A knock hits the office door. “Jihoon, is everything okay? We need to go,” Jun asks, muffled. 

He hums, voice slowly rising as he replies, “Yeah, I’m coming.” 

Wonwoo’s the first to spot it, heavy prescription be damned. He points, eagerly smiling. “Is that–” 

Jihoon holds his hand out, albeit with a look of reluctance. He’d never, ever show them how something dangerously flutters within him when they coo over it, praising Soonyoung for his work. 

He’s taken, locked down, but Jihoon can’t find it in him to reject the notion. There’s been no lead-up, absolutely zero conversation, and sure, his head pounds at the thought of actually seeing the man, but he’s reached a sort of… acceptance about it all. 

He doesn’t mind being Soonyoung’s, so long as the other man is his.

Chapter Text

They don’t bother calling ahead, just hoping that whatever Soonyoung’s plan is involves some pre-meditation. 

Wonwoo pulls into the driveway, gratefully empty. The three crowd around the front door and Jun rings the doorbell thrice, impatient. 

They’re so close, right near the edge of it all. Jihoon can feel it, he knows this is their last stop. His heart pounds in tune with footsteps getting closer to the door. 

The door clicks, then swings open.

Changkyun sighs, a little tired-looking but still happy to see them. “Thank god it’s you guys.”

Jun and Wonwoo wear apologies in their expressions, but Jihoon doesn’t try to hide his eagerness. 

His eyebrows raise slightly and he steps aside. “Come in, come in– I’ve got air conditioning and drinks.”

Jihoon opts to stand beside the couch his friends settle into. “Are we thinking some soda, or coffee, or…?” Changkyun calls from the kitchen 

Wonwoo goes for a soda, Jun asks for ice water, and Jihoon passes. Changkyun returns with their drinks on a tray, serving everyone before taking a sip of his tea. 

“How’s your day been?” 

“Where’s Soonyoung?”

The questions come out simultaneously, Jihoon meeting eyes with their host. Changkyun chuckles, gesturing at his screen door. Jihoon bows a little in thanks, flashing a genuine smile of gratitude. “Sorry about all this– happy late birthday, Changkyun-ah.” 

Ever the selfless man, Changkyun shrugs it off with a frown and wave. Jihoon’s shoulders relax as his smile becomes a grin, and he ducks outside. The glass screen behind him slams closed, cutting out the beginnings of Wonwoo’s storytelling.

He doesn’t need to look long; there’s only one elephant in the room, still covered in a little glitter and inflated to full height. 

The bouncy castle sits among a plain backyard, so innocuous to anyone else. Jihoon’s heart pounds against his ribs as he approaches it. This is it. This is where everything–

“Hey.” 

Jihoon freezes in place.

Sitting cross-legged in the center of the bounce house is… his Soonyoung. Wearing an old college t-shirt, cargo shorts and ridiculous tiger-stripe socks, but still in one piece. Fading sunlight filtering through colourful walls casts him in a dappled rainbow, soft and happy.

He points up at Jihoon’s hair, giggling. “I like the hair.”

Jihoon’s nearly forgotten. He reaches a hand up to it, raking his bangs from his face. “Thanks.” 

He slowly climbs into the castle, crawling over to Soonyoung and sitting before him. The structure squeaks and bends beneath his weight, protesting the addition. 

Every conversation Jihoon has rehearsed in his head, every thought he’s wanted to share, dies on his tongue the second he sees the man. They take a moment to just look at each other, eyes scanning every inch. Soonyoung’s a bit tan from the Nevada sun, but his hair’s still a long platinum blonde and smile is still blinding. In a silent invitation, his hands are turned up, and Jihoon takes the offer. He grabs both tight, and smiles, genuine and full, at the matching ring on Soonyoung’s left. 

“So.” 

“So.” 

Jihoon meets his eyes, and they say so much. They give him promises, shower him with devotion, praise him undeservingly. 

“You, uh,” Jihoon begins, “haven’t worn that shirt since our senior year.” He grins lopsided, and Soonyoung mirrors it. “Feeling nostalgic?” 

The other man chuckles. “Yeah, something like that.” 

The tension is so electric it could restart a heartbeat. Jihoon catches every micro-expression on Soonyoung’s face; each tugging at his resolve.

Do something , his muscles scream. Make a move , his nerves yell. That’s your husband , his mind repeats. 

He doesn’t get the chance. In an instant, something shifts in that radiant gaze, getting darker. Soonyoung shifts to his knees, looming over Jihoon. He hesitantly rests a hand on his shoulder, eyebrows tented as he cups Jihoon’s cheek with the other. 

“Is this…?” His voice is breathy, urgent. Needy . 

Jihoon searches his face. It’s pinched tight with restraint; frozen in agony inches from his own. He lets a small sigh escape, then curls a hand around Soonyoung’s nape. 

The pull towards each other is a tightrope walk. The air crackles around them, dead silent save for quickened breaths. 

Jihoon closes his eyes, and he gets every answer he’s been looking for in a warm press of mouths. A thumb brushes his cheekbone, hand pressing into his skin with heat that could brand. Jihoon’s other hand moves around Soonyoung’s back, reeling him in closer until they’re chest-to-chest. The sudden weight imbalance leaves him tipping back, hitting the bounce castle with a gentle rebound. He gasps into the kiss, and Soonyoung giggles. He’s trapped between the other man’s knees, body weight pressing into him so familiar he feels at home in it. Soonyoung is so achingly gentle, talking through every smooch, every squeeze, every shift of his body. All Jihoon does is let him in, hungrily lapping it all up like a man starved. 

In the small moments he pulls to take a breath, Soonyoung whispers. 

“God… I missed you, Jihoonie.” 

“I’ll never leave again.” 

“Baby, I’m yours.” 

“I lo–” 

At that, Jihoon pulls back, hushing him with a finger to the lips. They might be married, and they might make out, but they’re not quite… there yet. Soonyoung takes his silent cue, nodding. Jihoon doesn’t miss the way his eyes pinch at the denial. 

He wastes no time pulling the man back in by his shirt, humming into their lips and savouring it. Then, another break. Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow. 

“Are we just not addressing it?” 

Soonyoung scoffs, breathless. “What?” 

Jihoon can’t believe it. He holds up his left hand, giving the ring a glance. “ This. ” 

“What about it?” 

“‘What about’– are you serious?” His eyes widen, mouth turning downwards. “There’s no way you got these in the span of a day, Hoshi-yah.” 

That gets the man shy, cheeks pinking. Jihoon tries to keep his annoyance dominant against a flare of affection. 

“You really don’t remember, huh?” 

Jihoon’s hands hold the sides of Soonyoung’s arms, distancing him enough to think. He’d know if Soonyoung took one of his rings for sizing. They’ve never discussed what a wedding ring would look like, or even the prospect of–

Oh. 

He sweeps his gaze over Soonyoung once more, and realizes it. Where he’d last seen this shirt.

– – – – – 

The university courtyard was nearly empty as Soonyoung and Jihoon crossed the green in stumbling steps, giggling at each other’s stupid jokes. Their don hadn’t seen them leave the dorms, and also went to bed way too early, so their frat night was perfectly set up. 

Soonyoung nudged Jihoon, smirking. “Remind me– how many shots did you get through before Hyojun went down?” 

Jihoon snorted. “I think fifteen; ten soju, the rest vodka.” Right on cue, he hiccuped, whole body jolting with the motion. Soonyoung giggled again, poking a finger into his shoulder. “Tomorrow morning’s gonna be a new kind of hell.” 

Jihoon shot him a glare. “Says you– it’s a miracle you’re even still standing after that keg!” 

Soonyoung shushed him in exaggerated movements. He stumbled with the movement, wobbling on his feet and flapping his arms in circles to regain balance. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

They stopped at the courtyard’s fountain to catch their breath, perching on its edge. Its usual strength was now a soft gurgle. They sat shoulder to shoulder, stacking their heads on each other and staring up at the inky night. A few stars and blinking planes dotted the sky. 

“Jihoon-ah?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You ever wonder what our futures will look like? What we’d be, like, ten years from now?” 

“Hmm. Sometimes.”

“And?” 

“My degree gets some use– I’ll be a producer. I’d have a nice place of my own with that money, somewhere in the city.”

“You’d do it alone?”

“Well, I’d have you, right?”

“Yah, obviously . I mean, no girlfriend, or wife?” 

Jihoon hums in thought. “I don’t know, I’ve never considered it.”

“Well, consider it now,” Soonyoung prompted with a whine.

“Okay, okay.” There was a pause as he looked through his options. “I guess I’d want someone… supportive. Who takes on just as much as I do in the relationship, and has a passion for something that keeps them going. Who can see me better than I see myself, even if I don’t say those things out loud.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I guess someone like you, Soonie.” 

Soonyoung clicked his tongue. “You were doing so well, too.” He chuckled, nuzzling his head into Jihoon’s hair. “It’s alright, I pity you anyway. Good luck finding someone even half as good as me.” 

A pinch into his side made Soonyoung yelp and hiss in pain. Jihoon laughed heartily at his anguish. 

“Don’t hate me for being truthful, Jihoonie.” 

“Who says I hate you?” 

“Was the pinch not enough?” 

“Like you haven’t done worse.” 

They settled back into each other, breaths syncing. Alcohol softened their minds, soaking everything in a layer of sticky honey. A chilly breeze blew past them both, and Soonyoung hugged into Jihoon. A hand came up to rake through his hair like second nature. 

“What about you?” 

Soonyoung’s voice was starting to roughen with fatigue. “Me?” 

“No future Mrs. Kwon?” 

Even without seeing the man’s face, Jihoon knew its snarl. “Ugh, that’s my mother’s name, don’t do that.” He hummed, the sound vibrating into Jihoon’s chest like a cat’s purr. “I guess… not really.” 

The words dripped with reasonable melancholy. It had barely been three months since Yeonri– the wound was still fresh. Jihoon didn’t like to reminisce, but the memories assaulted him regardless. 

An innocent visit to pick up Soonyoung’s car keys. Hearing the sounds, flinging open that door. The shock. The rage. The lack of remorse behind those eyes, just a sadistic relief. The way he hadn’t hesitated when cracking a fist across that dude’s jaw. How public she’d made the rest of it all, leaving half of Soonyoung’s clothes raining from a third-floor window. The month where his best friend had shut off completely, only surviving off Wonwoo and Jihoon’s firm coaxing to eat, to go to class, to get out of bed.

 He took a deep breath, clearing his head. Soonyoung was fine, better than fine, now. Those days, and that girl, were past them. 

He couldn’t hold back a smile. “Well, consider it now,” he whined, mimicking Soonyoung’s earlier tone. Soonyoung groaned, batting Jihoon’s chest as he cackled. As the laughter died, Jihoon lightly scratched his friend’s scalp in encouragement. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“No, you don’t get it– we’ve got the exact same answers, Jihoon-ah.” 

“Yuck, you want a girl version of yourself?”

Soonyoung sighed, exasperated. “No, I want…” 

A pause. The crickets in the unkempt grass at their ankles chirped into the silence. A sprinkler system went off in the distance. Jihoon’s hand paused over Soonyoung’s hair.

“I don’t need anyone. I’ll be fine so long as you’re around, Jihoonie.” He snuggled closer to Jihoon, happily humming. Slowly, Jihoon resumed his movements.

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.”

“I’m not the best with emotions.” 

“I have a coded chart on what every Jihoon grunt and look means.” 

“I’m standoffish, pretty mean most of the time.” 

“You’re more warm than you think.” 

Jihoon smiled. “We fight all the time.” 

“It’s kinda fun to fight.” 

“Even when I bury myself in work?”

“I’ll bring a shovel.”

“Even when I stop answering your messages?”

“I’ll just call you.”

“Even when–”

Soonyoung’s hand came up to stop him. He pulled back just enough to meet Jihoon’s eyes, a startling clarity breaking through his drunken haze. The look on his face was just sincere, every inch of it. “Especially then.”

Jihoon broke eye contact with another laugh, pulling Soonyoung back down into the hug. “Alright, dummy. In that case, maybe you should just marry me.” 

“Maybe I will.” 

Jihoon snorted. “If you want to lock this down, I expect spectacle. And the ring better be nice, or consider it all off. Diamonds, Youngie” 

“A done deal.” 

“You’d listen to every word I say, no questions.”

“Absolutely none.” 

He pinched the corner of Soonyoung’s shirt, pulling at it for emphasis. “No stupid clothes, either– no husband of mine’s going to be caught in a ramyeon-stained varsity shirt from a pep rally t-shirt gun.” 

Soonyoung giggled into Jihoon’s chest. “Copy.” 

Jihoon took a breath, sighing into Soonyoung’s hair. It carried the smell of his ridiculous 3-in-1 shampoo and the party they’d just got out from. Pine needles and spiked fruit punch. 

“And…” he whispered into the other man’s bleached strands. “We’d enjoy our life together. We’d do things, go places, not be old and miserable all the time.” 

“Of course.” 

“You’d make songs with me. I’d dance with you. We’d create art together.” 

“Perfection.” 

Jihoon smirked. “Your parents already like me more than you.”

“Eomma would be over the moon.” 

They sat together, huddled against the cool night, dreaming about something so impossible it made a laugh bubble from Jihoon’s chest every few minutes. 

“God, we really overdid it tonight,” Jihoon muttered.

Soonyoung sat up, unwinding his hands from the other man’s torso and stretching. He rubbed his eye while yawning. “I hate drinking, why can’t I ever just have a fun night without crashing early?

Jihoon giggled while pulling himself up, swaying slightly before grabbing Soonyoung’s shoulder for balance. “Whine as much as you want, Soon, it doesn’t change that you’re a lightweight.” 

“ You try doing a keg stand, then we’ll see who’s the lightweight!” He stood quickly, but his knees immediately buckled. Jihoon was reaching out before even realizing, catching Soonyoung strong and steady. He looped his friend’s arm over his shoulder and took on the brunt of his body weight, leading them both into the dormitories. The whole way over, Soonyoung blabbed into his shoulder. Jihoon indulged, a smile too big for his face stretching his lips.

“You’re so strong, Hoonie. When did this happen?” 

“Gym.”

“Stop it, you’re making the rest of us look bad.”

“No.”

“Do you wanna get some food later?”

“It’s nearly four in the morning.”

“...Breakfast, then?”

“Fine.”

“We could have some eggs and bacon, American-style… or some buchujeon… with kimchi…”

“Sounds good.”

“But you don’t know how to make that.”

“I’ll learn.”

Jihoon pushed the door open with his hip, dragging his feet the last few steps before tossing Soonyoung into his bed. Face squished with tired pleasure, his friend wiggled into the sheets and kicked off his huge sneakers. Jihoon collected them from their haphazard landings, pairing them on the shared shoe stand. He sighed over Soonyoung’s bed, smoothing a hand over the blanket. 

“If you’re going to puke, the trash can’s right next to your side,” he murmured. 

Soonyoung caught his hand before it retreated, squeezing once. “You take such good care of me, Ji.” 

Jihoon sighed, squeezing back. “I can’t help it, can I, Soonie.” 

Soonyoung was already snoring, head lolled to one side. Jihoon smoothed his friend’s hair down once, looking over him before trudging to the bathroom to wash the night’s grime off. 

While brushing his teeth, he caught the sound of Soonyoung giggling in his sleep and couldn’t help the fond crinkle in his eyes.

It's the alcohol, he told himself. Just a couple bottles of poison scrambling his brain, loosening his coils. He would feel the consequences later, hunched over the toilet bowl with a pounding head. But in that moment, he simply kept up his brushing rhythm, smiling around his toothbrush.