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Chapter Text

I didn't know my first love was my first love until he left me. 

Hotae held his pen over the page, staring at the words. The part-time kid had given him a cheap blue coiled notebook, the same kind Hotae had used when he was a real student, and told him if he wanted to confess to Donghee, really confess, then he should work out his thoughts first. But he'd had over a decade with his thoughts, he didn't want to live in them anymore. 

He dropped the pen on the table and watched it roll onto the floor. The part-time kid, Wonyoung, tsked and picked it back up. He seemed perfectly comfortable in Hotae's apartment, his legs tucked under him on the floor as they studied (or pretended to study) at his small table. It had been a few months since Hotae's mom had pressured Wonyoung into being his tutor for the GED test, but since then he must’ve deemed Hotae hopeless. Their sessions had become increasingly more personal and less and less about geometry and adverbs. 

"What's the problem?"

"This is stupid."

Wonyoung sighed as if he was a long-suffering ahjussi instead of a 27-year-old kid. "Do you want to be with Donghee Hyung or not?"

Of course he did, but he also didn't consider Wonyoung an expert on love just because he'd been in a relationship for a few months. "You spilled some banana milk on your shirt."

Wonyoung looked down, panicked, then clicked his tongue again. "This is Sajangnim's favourite." 

"Can't believe I'm taking love advice from someone who doesn't even call their boyfriend by his first name." 

Wonyoung pushed his shoulders back and jutted out his chin, likely in an attempt to look older, which Hotae reluctantly found adorable. "You don't know what we do in private."

"Ugh, and I don't want to." He pushed the notebook away. "I'm not doing this."

Wonyoung read the sentence, his mouth opening into a shocked little oh . "I knew you guys were friends in high school, but..."

"Elementary. Birth, really. Our moms are best friends."

"Then why now?" Wonyoung had a blunt way of asking questions that Hotae both hated and admired. When Hotae didn't answer right away, Wonyoung continued as if the question was difficult to understand. "I mean, if you've known him your whole life, why are you only confessing now?" 

Hotae took the notebook and flipped through it, wondering if their story would even fit on all the blank pages. If he started listing all the reasons he hadn't confessed, all the reasons he thought Donghee was resisting him... the words would spill out of the notebook onto his table, the walls, his body, his whole world. 

"Yaa, part-timer, aren't you late for your date?"

"Hmm?" Wonyoung looked at his phone and then his eyes went wide and he jumped up from the floor. "Um, do the practice test in chapter three and I'll check it next time. Oh and,” he pointed to the notebook, “write it to him, that’ll be more helpful. Got it?"

He didn't wait for Hotae's answer before running out of the apartment, the stomps of his footsteps on the stairs echoing through the whole building. Hotae winced. If his mom was in the restaurant downstairs, she’d probably think Hotae chased the kid away. 

He picked up the GED practice book and flipped to the test with every intention of concentrating, but his eyes kept shifting back to the notebook. Maybe if he just moved it out of sight, under the bed, that would be better. There, now he could settle in and focus on reading comprehension. 

Donghee had tried to help him with this in high school. They’d sit in their shared bedroom late into the night and read through the passages, then Donghee would ask questions about what they'd just read. The book would be spread across their knees and Donghee would lean in close, squinting in the dim light. Hotae would take a deep breath, trying to fill his whole body with the scent of him as he tried to concentrate on the words coming out of his mouth instead of the way they made his lips move. Donghee would act annoyed, but his cheeks would flush.

After Donghee left for Seoul, Hotae couldn’t study in his room anymore. He could barely be in his own home. Every inch of it was tainted with memories of him. Everywhere he looked, he saw a place Donghee should be: sitting at the table eating breakfast, hunched over the desk studying, lying in Hotae’s bed, his dark hair spilling onto the pillow, his slack face peaceful in the moonlight. But without him, the house felt wrong. The desk was useless. The bed was empty. Hotae would only lay in it when it stormed, his body aching with the memory of Donghee trembling next to him. Sometimes he would touch himself thinking about him; his breath, his skin, the way his hair hung over his eyes, how soft his lips had felt when they pressed against his. Then he’d have to hold in a scream, covering his mouth and curling into a ball, his breath heavy and his eyes stinging. 

"Ugh!" He closed the GED book and crawled to the bed, reaching under it for the stupid notebook. 

Everything about you hurts me. 

My body hurts because you're not touching it, 

my lips hurt because you're not kissing them, 

my soul hurts because you left me, 

my heart hurts because you broke it.

He’d never admitted that before, but before the ink even dried, Hotae knew it was true. He’d felt his heart shatter the day Donghee stood in front of the school and told him he was going to university in Seoul. 

You said you’d stay. 

Why did you draw me, Donghee?

Why did you draw me like you loved me? 

If you weren’t going to stay?

The day he could no longer smell Donghee on his bedsheets was the day he asked his mom if he could move into the apartment above the restaurant. It was better that way. No reminders of him there. He could make a new life. Be a new person. Someone scary. Someone who didn’t need him . 

But it was useless. Everything he did to forget Donghee, all the women he dated to push him out of his heart, the reckless things he did, the years he’d spent angry at him, none of it mattered. The day Donghee showed up on the beach holding up that damn picture at that stupid sign meant for tourists, Hotae was lost. 

But Donghee… he was found. He was so different. Lighter, happier, more at ease with himself. His four years away seemed to have evaporated the darkness that hung around him, and he acted like they were two old friends reuniting after some time apart. 

So Hotae had his answer. All those years he’d spent angry, confused, in love, Donghee had spent forgetting about him. Or even worse, not even needing to forget about him. 

The worst part was, it had taken a few months for Hotae to realize it. He'd stupidly thought they'd pick up exactly where they left off, that he had a chance to do things right this time. But he was just Donghee's old friend. His dongsaeng. Nothing in Hotae’s life had ever been more painful than after those first few months when that reality sank in. 

You're the only one who can hurt me. 

And you're the only one who can make it stop. 

Donghee had once said Hotae was cool when he cried, that it was strong to let out his emotions. He didn’t feel cool now as he bent over the notebook, his tears falling onto the pages and smudging the ink. He wanted to tear the page out, but he also needed to see the words. He hated that the part-timer was right. Stupid notebook of truth.

The kid had asked him why now. Why, after all these years, would he dig into this pain again? 

Because of a picture and a watch. 

Donghee carried a picture of them everywhere he went. He had one in his wallet. In his notebook. Tucked away under the counter of his cafe, he still had the watch Hotae had won him for his birthday in high school. 

The fire had always been simmering just under the surface, but finding that watch, seeing that picture… it sparked an inferno. 

If Donghee felt the same way he did, if there was a chance… Hotae had to go for it. 

But how could he put all of that into the notebook like the kid had told him? He wasn’t smart like him, wasn’t good with words. So he put the pen to the paper and wrote the only thing he knew to be absolute truth.

I’ve always loved you, Donghee.

Donghee stood with his head pressed against the wall, his arms dangling in front of him. The shop had been closed for a while and he still hadn’t cleaned up. 

“Stupid.” He rocked back and forth, knocking head against the wall. “Stupid, stupid, stupid… why… why did I do that?” 

Hotae had been messing around lately, asking–no, telling –Donghee to date him for a month, kissing him in alleyways and trying to learn Spanish because of some offhand comment Donghee made about wanting to date Latin men. Didn’t Hotae understand what he was doing? It was nothing to him, just another in a long line of disastrous dating experiments, but to Donhee it would be too painful. How could he go back to normal once he knew what it was like to date him? How could he have free rein to touch him, kiss him, hold him, laugh with him, whisper to him all the things he’d wanted to say for years, only to then have the month end? 

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t . 

He’d done some pretty masochistic things to be closer to him: ‘taught’ him how to kiss in high school, lived in the same house, watched him sleep, moved back to this neighbourhood even though he knew it would be like walking over broken glass to watch him date woman after woman… but this? Actually dating him? As an experiment ? No. That was too far. 

“Then whyyyyyyyyyy? Ugh!” He hit his head a little too hard on the wall and stumbled back into a chair, dropping his head into his hands. Hotae had hugged him from behind and instead of pushing him away like he always did, Donghee just stood there and soaked in his warmth, his strength, the feeling of his chest on Donghee’s back, the brush of his breath on his neck. 

Let me at least do this.  

“Uuuuuugggghghghghghghghhghghg.” He got up too quickly and wobbled a bit before going to the closet and taking out a broom. He shouldn’t have encouraged it. When Hotae got an idea in his head, he went for it full steam ahead, and now there’d be no stopping this train.

But Donghee had to stop it, otherwise he’d be the one to crash and burn. His heart had been carefully tied back together with brittle string, but it wouldn’t take much to unravel and fall apart again. His whole life could implode. Not only would he disappoint Emo, he’d be so heartsick he’d have to leave again, abandon this neighbourhood, his business, his friends. 

No . Tomorrow he’d draw up firm boundaries to make Hotae move on to his next romantic disaster and forget all about this nonsense. Then Donghee could go back to walking across broken glass in silence. 

Hotae stood in front of the café doors waiting for Donghee to walk by and notice him. He’d waited until after closing so there wouldn’t be any customers to ruin the moment. The notebook in his hand felt heavy, like all of his expectations were shoved onto its pages. History had proven talking was a bad idea, so this time he would just give Donghee proof. He knew the words inside were too raw, but at this point he’d tried everything else, he had no other choice. 

Donghee walked from the back room and stopped, his face almost scared at the sight of Hotae. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Since when do I need a reason?” He hated speaking through the glass, hated how it dulled their voices and blurred Donghee’s face with the glare from the lights. “Let me in.” 

“I wasn’t–” Donghee shook his head and took a deep breath like he was psyching himself up for something. He didn’t meet Hotae’s eyes when he opened the door, but that was probably because he was shy about the last time they were together. That hug had meant everything to Hotae. It had given him the courage to do what he was about to do. 

“I’m not gonna say anything, I just want to give you–”

“I’m not going to date you.” 

The words hung dangerously between them, aimed at Hotae, but not quite hitting him yet. 

“I’m sorry.” Donghee ran his hand through his hair, his face pinched like he was in pain, his eyes landing on anything but Hotae. “I wasn’t going to do it like that, I thought I had more time to prepare. I just… whatever you’re about to say, please don’t.” 

The words inched closer to Hotae, threatening to sink in. “I don’t understand.” He squeezed his notebook in both hands as if its contents could be squished out into the room to form a shield around him.  

“I’m dating someone else.”

“What?” There was no dodging the words now, they hit him square in the chest. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He couldn’t believe him. Donghee had dated before, but that was before . 

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me.”

“Tell me who it is.”

“You don’t know him.” 

“I know everyone in this town.”

“What matters is I like him and he likes me and I owe it to him to–”

“You don’t owe some random guy anything.”

“Then I owe it to myself .” He finally looked at Hotae, his eyes on fire. “I need someone who’s serious about me.”

“I am serious about–”

“Hotae,” Donghee’s voice came out strangled, “I’m asking you as a friend to stop. If you care about me–”

“I care about you more than anyone.”

“Then please .” He took a shaking breath. “This is what I want.” 

Nightmare. That was Hotae’s first thought. This couldn’t be real, it had to be some awful dream. His body felt numb and there was a ringing in his ears. He often had nightmares like this, where there was no way out. No way forward. That was what Donghee had just presented to him: a plea he couldn’t refuse. How could he continue fighting for what he wanted if it wasn’t what Donghee wanted? How could he try to force the love of his life to love him back? 

He felt like the weight of the notebook still clutched in his hands could drag him to the floor, so he folded it and slid it into his back pocket. 

“Okay, Hyung.” The word burned on the way out, and Donghee’s eyes widened. He raised his hand towards Hotae’s shoulder, but then it dropped. 

“Thank you.” 

Hotae nodded and turned to the door. He couldn’t be there, couldn’t look at Donghee, couldn’t absorb this reality when the fantasy of what they could have been was still so fresh. 

“Yaa, Go Hotae.” Donghee forced a smile as Hotae turned back. “You’re still my best friend, right?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.” 

The bell on the door jangled in his ear as he left. He’d been so sure Donghee felt the same way. The picture. The watch. Coming into the restaurant all the time. Asking Hotae for help. Even returning to this nothing town after graduating at the top of his class from a fancy Seoul university. And sometimes Hotae would catch Donghee looking at him in a way that made his heart pound and his skin burn. 

But he was wrong. 

He was so, so wrong.

By the time he got home he’d worked himself up into an angry, disappointed frenzy. He slammed the notebook on his table and practically ripped the words into the pages. 

Will you love him? 

Will you give yourself to him, Donghee?

Will he touch you and taste you and love you? 

And then what will I do?

What can I do but watch? 

What can I do but break open and bleed at your feet? 

What can I do to be him?

Let me be him, Donghee. 

Maybe someday, he thought, he’d be able to write in this damn notebook without soaking it in tears. 

EPILOGUE

October 18, 2018

It had been so long since Mingyu’s house had been boisterous, she’d almost forgotten how much she loved it. Amazing how only two boys could make so much noise. Well, she supposed they were young men now in their early twenties, but they would always be boys to her.  

It had almost been a month since Donghee returned from Seoul. She’d been happy, of course, but she had to admit she was surprised. He was such a smart, talented boy, she thought he’d stay in Seoul indefinitely, where there were more people… like him . But she was glad he was back, especially if it meant the two of them would come by the house more often. 

She’d asked them to set up a fire pit in the yard so they could relax around it after dinner, but they’d gotten about halfway done before descending into a leaf-throwing war. She leaned against the windowsill and watched as Hotae picked Donghee up by his waist and threw him in the pile of leaves he’d raked for her that morning. Temptation to yell at him to stop messing up her yard pulled her hand to open the window, but she couldn’t quite get the words out. Their smiles were too precious, too joyous to interrupt. She hadn’t seen her son laugh that hard for a very long time. The sound of it carried into the house and danced around her, straightening her spine. 

Donghee crawled through the leaves, reaching for Hotae to pull him down, but Hotae was too fast for him, so he gave up and flopped down on nature's mattress, looking up to the sky. 

Mingyu looked up with him, watching as the clouds lazily made their way past. It was a beautiful day with bright sun and a cold breeze that demanded sweaters, but didn’t force anyone inside. 

When her eyes came back down, she found Hotae had laid beside Donghee and their soft voices were mingling together, sounding content. Good , she thought, ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. All that tense business from their high school days seemed to be behind them now. 

Donghee sat up and caught her watching from the window, so she gave him a smile and a wave. He nudged Hotae and they started to come inside. 

“Stop right there.” She shooed them back out the door, then patted them both down, getting rid of the dirt and leaves from their clothes. “What’s the point in dressing up for dinner if you’re just going to roll around in dirt, hmm?” 

“Sorry,” they both said, knowing full well that she didn’t mean it. 

Hotae let out a laugh, then delicately picked a leaf out of Donghee’s hair. “Trying a new fashion?”

“Yes, so I’ll thank you to keep your hands off.”

“Ah, okay, sorry,” Hotae gently placed the leaf back in Donghee’s hair and they made a face at each other, neither one willing to break the joke first. 

“How do I look, Emo?”

“Handsome,” she patted his cheek, “always handsome. Now get inside, it’s time to make dinner. What do you think about eating in the sitting room?”  

They both stopped and looked into the room with the lovely red and gold rug they’d bought at a flea market when they were in high school. She already had the electric heater going and had set up a small table. 

“What’s wrong?” They’d both flushed red. “You boys used to love this room, you’d spend hours reading comics and–”

“Let’s just sit in the kitchen,” Hotae said, brushing past her. 

Donghee gave her a sheepish smile. “It’s a bit hot, can I turn this down?” 

She nodded, confused, and watched as he turned the knob on the heater and fled the room as if it were filled with ghosts. “Is there anything I can help with? I picked up some pretty good cooking skills while I was away.” 

“Ah,” she threw her voice towards the kitchen where Hotae was setting the table, “how nice to have a gentleman in the house again.”

Hotae glared as they walked in. “You once told me if I stepped into your kitchen again you’d beat me with your slipper, throw it in the soup and make me eat it.” 

“Oh right, I did say that.” She laughed, feeling rather proud of that one. “He’s too big, he knocks things over like a drunken bull.”

Donghee gave her a smile of agreement. “We’ll just leave him to set the table, then, and I’ll help cook.” 

“Thank you.” She picked the leaf out of his hair and threw it out the window. “You can pick up your new accessory on the way out.”

Chapter Text

Donghee’s plan worked. His fake boyfriend drew a hard line between him and Hotae, which was exactly what he’d wanted. Success. Good. Everything was just freaking great, he wasn’t miserable at all.  

Hotae still came to the café, still offered to carry heavy boxes or put up the chairs at the end of the night, but everything about their interactions was stiff and soulless, like he was a robot running on low-power mode.  

For the first few days Donghee figured he just needed some time, but it had been over a month and Hotae still spoke to him with a flat voice and empty eyes. Donghee wasn’t even sure if Hotae would remember that it was his birthday. Usually they spent it at the restaurant. Emo would make seaweed soup and japchae, and pretend like she didn’t have a cake waiting for him in the fridge. Then she’d send Hotae to ‘get something’, and he’d come back with candles lit, singing with his shockingly good voice. 

Donghee never made any other plans on his birthday, even when he was in Seoul. He never wanted anything other than Emo and Hotae and their simple tradition. 

The door jingled and Hotae came in, his face stoney and his shoulders tense. "Why aren't you closed yet?"

"Ah, just... lost in thought."

He clicked his tongue and grabbed a cloth to wipe the tables. "Hurry up, Mom's waiting." 

"Oh, I didn't know if we were doing it this year." 

Hotae threw him an annoyed look, not stopping his work. "Why wouldn't we?" 

The weight that had settled on Donghee's chest lifted slightly. "Right. Why wouldn't we?" 

Hotae's eyes shifted down to Donghee's mouth, but then he quickly looked away and cleared his throat. "Nice to see you smile again. Been a while." 

They made quick work of closing up, doing the dishes, but leaving the sweeping and paperwork for tomorrow. It was his birthday, after all. 

The walk to the restaurant was silent, but not exactly uncomfortable. They used to walk side-by-side in silence all the time, either along the beach or through the neighbourhood. Sure, now Hotae was careful not to accidentally brush Donghee’s arm or playfully bump his shoulder, or even glance his way, but it was still nice to be alone with him without any expectations. Great, even. Everything was just so great . 

Hotae stopped just before they reached the restaurant and pulled a folded envelope out of his pocket. “Here." 

Donghee took it gently, as if it might crumble in his hands, then slid the thick, matted paper out, not quite understanding. 

"Train tickets?"

"If you want to go anywhere." His jaw clenched and he looked past Donghee toward the restaurant. "With anyone." 

Donghee could have screamed. Maybe it was a mistake to lie. He hated hurting him. He honestly hadn’t thought it would hurt him this much. He thought Hotae would move on, find someone else, go back to being oblivious to the way the air crackled any time they were close to each other. But that wasn’t what happened, and now Hotae’s shoulders hunched and his eyes dipped like a wounded animal, and it was Donghee’s fault. 

“Hotae, I actually don’t have–”

Emo passed by the open restaurant window, softly humming to herself and placing side dishes on a table. Donghee sucked in a breath, hoping the words he’d already said would be sucked back in with it. Was he really about to tell Hotae the truth? In one single moment of weakness, was he really about to ruin everything? 

“You don’t have what?” Hotae was staring at him, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.

Donghee held up the tickets. “Time. I don’t have time right now to go anywhere.”

Hotae shrugged. “They don’t expire.”

“Ah, that’s good to know. Thank you." 

"Come on, the soup is probably cold by now."

Donghee forced a smile, hoping it would chase away the dark hole forming in his stomach. "Pffft, like Emo would let that happen."

And she hadn’t. Of course. Emo’s seaweed soup had always been Donghee’s favourite. Even back when he still celebrated his birthday with his parents, he would always go over to Hotae’s for a second bowl where Emo would fuss over him and Samcheon would slip an envelope with pocket money into his hand.

Hotae’s dad had been a gentle, kind man, so soft-spoken sometimes it was hard to hear him. But he had his own way to be fun. He would ‘drop’ candy in places only little hands could reach, then complain that he’d never see it again, giving them a wink. When he passed away, it felt like Donghee was losing a father, too. His parents were too busy, so he took the train by himself to go to the funeral. When he got there, Hotae was playing soccer out front with a group of kids, and Donghee just froze. He hadn’t seen him in person in two years, and everything he felt for him, everything he’d tried to bury, was unearthed with one single smile. So he’d gone inside, paid his respects to a man he’d often wished was his own dad, and quietly left. Like a coward. 

Emo clicked her tongue. “You’re so quiet.” 

“Ah.” He gave her a smile. “Just enjoying the best soup in all of Gangwon. Thank you for making it, Emo.”

She gave him a warm smile and reached across the table to pat his cheek. “What else would I do for our Donghee’s birthday?” 

He had no words big enough to thank her for everything she’d done for him, so instead he said, “I still haven’t heard the rest of the story about Mr. Song at the fish market.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Emo clapped her hands together, her eyes crackling. As she launched into an exhilarating tale of price haggling, Donghee allowed himself to imagine she was his mother-in-law. That she didn’t just support him with Hotae, but called him her son. And maybe after dinner, he and Hotae would give her a hug and go home together to snuggle on the couch and brainstorm where they’d go with the train tickets. They’d make love and then lay tangled together, laughing about how passionate Emo had been about the price of fish. They’d fall asleep with Donghee’s head resting on Hotae’s chest, and Hotae’s fingers winding through his hair. 

“Hyung.” The word slapped him across the face. Hyung. He hated the sound of it coming out of Hotae’s mouth. He’d asked him to say it for so long and now it just sounded alien and wrong. 

“Huh?”

“I asked when we’re going to meet your new boyfriend.”

Emo’s eyes pingponged between the two of them. “Donghee-ya, you have a new boyfriend?”

“Oh, ah, yes. For about a month.”

“Ah,” she seemed to be trying to keep her face neutral, which was strange. She was usually happy for him when he started dating someone. “And it’s serious?”

Before he could answer her, the door creaked open and Emo gave him a cheeky grin. “The cake has arriv–” but her voice faltered and her smile dropped. Donghee followed her shocked gaze to his father. 

Everything in the room tilted. 

Donghee’s body turned to stone. 

Sound disappeared, sucked up by his father’s imposing presence. 

He wasn’t a very big man, not that much taller than Donghee and just as slim, yet his energy filled the room. It seemed like he was deliberately trying to dress down, trading his usual suit for slacks and a leather jacket. Out of its inside pocket he pulled a grey envelope and held it up as if to justify his presence. 

“Happy birthday.”

“Father.” Donghee hadn’t said that word in so long. He stood, not knowing what to do with the fear pulsing through his body. He could hear rain even though the skies were clear, could taste blood and feel mud on his face. Memory was a strange thing. It could make his muscles ache just by looking at someone. 

Hotae stood too, stepping in front of Donghee. “What are you doing here?”

His dad looked annoyed but tried to hide it. “It’s my son’s birthday.”

“And what does that have to do with yo–”

“Hotae.” Donghee put his hand on Hotae’s shoulder. “Stop.” Despite the fact that he could barely catch his breath, he was curious. 

His dad shot Hotae a smug look, then walked in further, holding out the card. 

“You should answer his question,” Donghee said, eyeing the card but not taking it. “What are you doing here?”

“I already–”

“You haven’t celebrated my birthday in years. Why now?”

His dad sighed and lazily took in the restaurant, their meal, Emo standing as tall as she could make herself beside her son who was staring him down. He pointed at Hotae, wagging his finger. "He gets it from you, you know, this arrogant, hot-headed attitude. Look at you both, trying to protect my son from his own father." 

Hotae’s whole body was tense. "You should’ve been the kind of dad we didn't need to protect him from." 

Donghee wished he could speak for himself, but his throat felt like it had swelled closed. Emo sat down, eyeing Hotae until he did the same. "We'll let him say what he has to say, and then he'll leave and let us celebrate Donghee the way he deserves. Isn’t that right, sir? ”

Donghee knew Emo being overly formal was a dig, a way to let his father know he was an outsider. 

"I just want to reconnect." His father looked at Donghee in a way that seemed like he liked what he saw, that he could be proud of who he became. "That's all, I promise.”

"So," Emo crossed her arms, looking him up and down, "this has nothing to do with the fact that Haesu left you."

"What?" Donghee was shocked out of his fear. "When?"

"Last week. I didn't want to tell you until I knew it would stick this time."

This time. 

"Are you ever going to learn to mind your own business?" His father took a step towards Emo, then an even bigger step back at the look on Hotae's face. "Okay, okay, I didn't come here to fight, I came here to get to know my son. I know I was wrong, okay?"

Donghee tried not to let himself hope, but hope was tricky. It often found back ways into a person's heart. 

"When your mother moved out, she said it was because of my harsh behaviour towards you."

"Harsh behaviour," Hotae spat, "is that what you call beating him almost to death?" 

His dad kept talking as if Hotae hadn't interrupted. "I want a relationship with you. I know you’ve started your own business, and I want to help. Maybe we can meet in the middle, hmmm? I can change if you can."

Donghee's stomach churned with tar. Change. Of course. A relationship would be conditional on him changing who he was. 

"There are things about you I can't accept,” his father spoke as if negotiating a later bedtime with a child, “but I can ignore it. If you don't talk about it, if you keep it a secret, just from the people I associate with. And who knows, you've never dated a woman, maybe if you try–"

Hotae was out of his chair so fast it clattered to the floor. “You don’t get to talk to him like that.”

“This isn’t your business.” The shift in his father's voice sent a shiver of panic down Donghee’s spine. He knew that tone. “Move out of the way and let me talk to my son.”

"He's not your son. You don't deserve him." 

His father's eyes narrowed on Hotae. "What is this? What friend gets so defensive for another man? What are you, his lover?" Both of them flinched and that was apparently all he needed as confirmation. Angry disgust carved itself into his face as he took a menacing step towards Hotae. "How long has this been going on? You two were always together, swimming and wrestling, running around with your clothes off. It was you, wasn't it? You perverted my son."

"Get out!" Donghee could take it when it was directed at him, but how dare his father bring Hotae into his toxic garbage. 

His father just shook his head, bearing his teeth through a bitter smile. "I knew it. And now you're talking back to me. Your influence again, huh?" He nodded his chin towards Hotae. "You couldn't stop at turning him unnatural, you had to turn him into a thug, too?"  

The anger burning inside of Donghee was primal and protective. "I said get out ." 

"I'm your father!"

"Not anymore!"

"You ungrateful little perver-"

Hotae stepped in front of Dongee and took his dad's shoulders in both hands, turning him towards the door. "He told you to leave." 

His dad struggled, but he was no match for Hotae. Very few people were. As soon as Hotae had him shoved outside, his dad turned and sucker-punched him, knocking him into the doorframe. Hotae stumbled, but didn't move, keeping his body as a barrier to those inside. 

Donghee didn't know what to do. He wouldn't be of any help physically, but his instinct was still to pull Hotae away and take the beating himself. Why? Why did anyone have to take it? Why couldn’t people like his father just burn up from all their anger and hate, leaving nothing behind but smoke?

"Just go!" 

His dad must have heard something dangerous in Donghee’s voice because he stopped pushing against Hotae and looked past him into the restaurant. Something came over him, then, something Donghee had never seen before. It was a jumble, and it happened fast, but he was sure he saw shame and regret mixed in with the disgust. 

"This is it, then. If you choose..." his eyes slid to Hotae as if he could slice him in half with a look, " this over your family, then consider me dead to you."

"I already do." It was the first time he'd ever said something like that, or even thought it, but it was true. 

His father tossed a bitter laugh over his shoulder as he turned to walk away. "Fine. To hell with all of you." 

Donghee didn't watch him go. Instead he ran the few steps to Hotae, Emo right behind him. They both guided him to a chair, shaking their heads at his protests that he was fine. 

"I’ve been punched a lot harder than that, I’m used to it." 

The cut above his eyebrow where he'd hit the doorframe said otherwise. Donghee got the first aid kit from the kitchen as Emo soaked a cloth in warm water, then they both converged on him just as the door opened. The three of them tensed, but it wasn’t his father.

"Whoa... what did we miss?" Wonyoung's eyes were huge and shocked, but Taejoon's were narrow, sweeping the restaurant as if the assailant could still be there, laying in wait. 

"Come in, come in," Emo handed the cloth to Donghee as she took the cake box from Wonyoung. "Just an unwelcome visitor, but he's gone now."

"Hopefully for good," Hotae mumbled under his breath. 

"He’ll be patched up soon, then we'll have cake." She was trying so hard to sound cheerful over the shake in her voice. "Don't worry about him, our Donghee is an expert at fixing him up. Come on, help me set up, okay?" 

The guys followed Emo into the kitchen and the clanging of cutlery and plates almost covered the sound of their hushed conversation. 

“I’m fine,” Hotae said, jerking his head back, avoiding Donghee’s touch. 

“If you’re going to insist on being the big strong hero type, then you forfeit the right to refuse care afterwards.”

Hotae scowled at him. “Forfeit the right? Do you know your vocabulary gets snooty any time you’re annoyed?”

“Then stop annoying me and hold still.” 

Hotae didn’t exactly concede, but he did stop pulling away. Donghee's heart had just started to calm down, but being this close to him was kicking it back into double-time. The cloth had cooled down a bit, but it was still warm as he gently dabbed it against the cut. A drop of water slid down his forearm, and just as it was about to reach the sleeve of his sweater, Hotae reached up and gently wiped it away with his fingertips. The touch sent a shiver rolling through Donghee's body and he pulled his arm away. 

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft. For pulling away, for lying, for hurting him, for bringing this chaos into his life. "For my father. He shouldn't have come here." 

"Never apologize for him." The words were so fierce they locked Donghee's eyes onto Hotae's. Donghee would have lived in this moment forever if he could, the beauty behind the fierceness, the protective way Hotae unconsciously leaned towards him, the surety that Hotae would always be there... but moments weren't meant to be lived in forever, and muscle memory kicked in at the sight of a drop of blood making a trail down Hotae's temple. 

"Hold still." He dabbed it away with the cloth, then put some antibiotic cream on his finger and gently tapped it on the cut. It was reckless, he knew that, but as he spread the bandaid on, his fingertips lingered a little too long over Hotae's skin. He felt his eyes on him but he didn’t dare meet them. 

"Wow, you are an expert." Wonyoung's voice tore through the tension and Donghee put on a smile as he sat back, trying not to look awkward as the four of them sang Happy Birthday. 

Chatter filled the restaurant as Emo asked the four of them about all the adventures they were having that she claimed to be too old for. This, of course, resulted in them brainstorming a trip for her to take: Hotae would run the restaurant and the three of them would periodically check to make sure he hadn’t burnt it down. 

“And then Donghee can patch Hotae up when he injures himself.” Wonyoung laughed, apparently not clocking the shift in atmosphere, since he kept going. “You know, because he’s such an expert.”  

Donghee liked Wonyoung, but he could be clueless. Even now, when everyone else had gone quiet, he was still happily taking another bite of cake, looking between Donghee and the bandage on Hotae’s forehead. 

“So how did you become an expert? Was he just clumsy or something?”

“You saw,” Hotae nodded out the window to the claw game outside, “out there.” 

“What… the woman?” Wonyoung looked scandalized. “That happened a lot?”

“Constantly,” Donghee said. “I carried around disinfectant cream in my backpack because of him.” 

He couldn’t look at Taejoon, the only person in his life who knew how pathetically long Donghee had been pining for Hotae. The warning look his friend would undoubtedly give wasn’t something he wanted or needed right now. He was still shaken from his father, still warm from the physical contact with Hotae, and he wanted to reminisce about a time when Hotae had let him help without pulling away. Donghee hadn’t been prepared for that when he came home from Seoul—that Hotae would recoil from his touch, that he wouldn’t even let him look at the wounds. 

“I thought he was getting bullied.” Emo clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “I didn’t believe it when Donghee told me it was girls he kept breaking up with. I said to him, why do you date them if you’re just going to end up beaten?? And do you know what he said?” She lowered her voice and puffed out her shoulders. “ Aren’t I supposed to? Ha!” She threw her hands in the air. “As if dating was a credit he had to earn in school!” 

“If it was, maybe I would have my diploma already.” 

Emo raised her hand to pretend to hit him, but she was laughing. “So many times he came home bleeding and poor Donghee had to take care of him.”

“He was gonna be a doctor.” Hotae’s voice could’ve been interpreted as wistful reminiscence, but Donghee knew him well enough to hear the accusation. “He was gonna go to medical school here, open a practice, patch me up for the rest of his life.” He threw the others a forced smile. “Good thing he didn’t, huh? He’d have to see me every day.” 

Sweet, dumb Wonyoung was the only one who didn’t seem to pick up on the bitterness. “So why didn’t you, Hyung?” 

“Hmmm?” Donghee hadn’t expected to be probed about his life decisions tonight. No one had ever been curious about his change of major except Hotae, and he’d lied straight to his face. “Ah, um, well… I wasn’t really qualified.” 

Emo huffed. “Not qualified my ass. He was in the top five in his class, you know. High school and university.” 

Wonyoung’s eyes went wide. “ You? ”

“Yaaa,” Donghee flicked the soju cap at him, which earned him a reproachful look from Taejoon, “do you have to sound so surprised?” 

“I just…” red creeped up Wonyoung’s neck, “no, I didn’t mean, it’s just… you run a cafè.” 

“I own a cafè.” 

“I don’t get it, why would you–”

“It’s getting late.” Taejoon put his arm around Wonyoung and shot Donghee the warning look he’d been trying to avoid. Taejoon knew exactly why Donghee chose to reject the big companies who sought him out after graduation, and he also knew if they got any more soju in them, all of those reasons might come tumbling out. 

As the two of them shuffled out saying their thank yous and goodbyes, Donghee tried to get started on cleaning up with very little success. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Emo slapped his hands away and gave him her patented glare. “You know the rules. No cleaning up on your birthday.”

“Funny,” Hotae said, walking some dishes to the kitchen, “that rule never applied to me.”

“My Donghee.” She pulled him into a hug and squeezed him with surprising strength. “Will you be okay on your own? Do you want to sleep over?” 

“ Here? ” A night staying in Hotae’s apartment was the absolute last thing he could handle after such an emotional shit-show of a night. 

“I meant at the house.” 

“Oh. No, I’m okay.”  

She studied his face like she knew he was hiding something. “This new boyfriend of yours, he’s good to you?” He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t lie, not to her. She squeezed his hands. “You know I want you to be happy, right?”

“Of course.” 

“As long as you know.” She smacked his butt and pushed him towards the door. “Now get out and leave this to us.” 

Hotae hadn’t returned from the kitchen, and for some reason Donghee felt like he couldn’t call out to him. There’d been a shift since Hotae asked him to be his romantic experiment, and the easy friendship Donghee had pretended was enough was slipping away. He didn’t know how to fix it, so instead he just thanked Emo and left, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying his best not to go back to his imaginary world where he was going home with Hotae instead. 

Don’t touch me 

If I can’t touch you back 

I’d rather bleed than have your hands on my skin

I feel like a starving man put in front of a hot meal he can’t eat

I don’t know how to be your friend

I don’t think I ever did

Hotae knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop from closing his eyes and remembering Donghee’s fingers gently putting the bandaid on his forehead, the sound of his breath, the smell of him, the gravity of his body.

Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just carve Donghee out of his heart but leave him in his soul? Why couldn’t he be a good friend without wanting anything more? 

If it was just physical attraction, he would’ve been over it years ago. He thought Donghee was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, but that wasn’t what drove him insane. It was his quiet strength, his diligence, it was the way he could always explain a situation and make Hotae see things from others’ points of view. 

When they were young, when Hotae was confused and stupid, he thought he just looked up to Donghee, wanted to be like him, wanted his approval. He thought his need to protect him was because he was small and quiet and Hotae was big and loud. 

Hotae would’ve fought off the whole world to make sure nothing hurt Donghee. But he couldn’t change who his dad was. He couldn’t stop that pain.

When Donghee came back lighter, happier, more free, it only made Hotae fall harder. How could someone learn to heal a wound that deep? How could he open a business all on his own? And live so unashamed by what society thought was unnatural? How had he learned to love himself when one of the most important people in his life told him he shouldn’t?  

You don’t need to be strong alone, Donghee

I’ll always protect you

Even when you think you don’t need it

I’ll be what you need me to be

Your heart is more important than mine

EPILOGUE

October 28, 2019

When Jisu had contacted Donghee to meet up, he didn’t think he’d be sitting on a cold bench outside a coffee stall trying different drinks, and he definitely didn’t think Donghee’s dongsaeng would be there. 

Hotae had never warmed up to Jisu, even though he’d been the one to fish him out of the pool when he fainted. He never even got a thank-you that day, but he guessed since Hotae had been unconscious at the time, maybe he didn’t even know Jisu was the one to save him. And now, six years after it happened, it didn’t feel like the time to bring it up. 

He wanted to, though. Hotae’s attitude always got under his skin. Jisu was his senior! His captain! At least, he used to be when they were on the swim team together. He knew he should put all that behind him, especially considering the way Hotae’s swim career turned out, but he just couldn’t. He thought he’d be spending the afternoon with his old friend, but instead Hotae was acting like Jisu was the one crashing. 

“What about this one?” Donghee set a plastic cup in front of him filled with something that might resemble coffee underneath all the sugar and whipped cream. “It’s called a cookie crumble latte.” 

Jisu smiled at the excitement on his friend’s face. He’d been so quiet and troubled in high school, and now he had his own business (sure, it was just a stall on the beach, but less than two years out of university, that was a pretty big accomplishment) and he looked happy . 

Jisu took a sip and tried not to make a face. He’d never liked sweet drinks, and being an athlete, he wasn’t really allowed to have them anyway. “It’s good.” 

Donghee leaned forward, his eyes probing. “Good how?” 

“Um, I like the… cookie?” 

The smile Donghee faked as he nodded was a gallant effort to make sure Jisu didn’t feel bad, but it didn’t quite succeed. He had no idea what he was supposed to be saying, and this was the fourth drink Donghee had asked him to try. 

Hotae stuck his own straw in the latte and took a long sip, holding it in his mouth before swallowing. “It needs a stronger shot of espresso and less vanilla, and you should sprinkle the cookie on top of the whipped cream instead of in the drink to keep it crunchy.” 

Donghee nodded and pulled a notebook out of his apron pocket to write down what Hotae had said. While his head was down, Hotae shot a smug look at Jisu. 

How rude would it be to tell him that he wouldn’t be alive today if it hadn’t been for Jisu? How unhinged would that make him sound, mentioning it out of nowhere?

“So,” he said as Donghee started making something else, “do you usually spend your Saturdays practicing making coffee?” 

“Ah, no.” He looked almost shy. “I took a course this week and I’m trying to update my menu while it’s still fresh in my mind.” He paused to let the steam out of the machine. “Thank you for being my taste-tester. I figured it would be good to have someone other than Hotae for once.” 

“I come here every day,” Hotae looked Jisu up and down as if assessing if he could take him in a fight. “So what brings you back to our little neighbourhood? I thought you were off winning medals.”

So that was why Hotae was being even frostier to him than he’d remembered. He was jealous he was still swimming. Jisu couldn’t help but empathize. Swimming was his life, he couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to have to stop after his accident. 

“Yeah, well, that’s actually why I reached out.” He didn’t want to say this in front of Hotae, but it couldn’t be helped since he didn’t anticipate Hotae leaving them alone. “I’m doing the rounds to see everyone before I go. I, ah…” he shot a glance at Hotae to find his eyebrows dipped and the corners of his mouth turned down. This was going to be awkward as hell. “Well, I got offered an assistant coaching job at a university in Canada. I leave next month.” 

“Wow! Congratulations.” Donghee’s excitement fell a little flat, and Jisu knew he was trying his best to support him while also skirting Hotae’s hurt feelings. But shockingly, the annoyance melted off Hotae’s face and was replaced with a smile.

“Really? Next month? Canada? Wow…” he sat forward and patted Jisu on the shoulder. It wasn’t even one of those aggressive pats that guys sometimes do to intimidate someone, it was… well, kind of nice, actually. “Congratulations, that’s great.”

“Um, yeah, thanks.” Was this a trick? Was he playing with him? “My wife already has her work visa, so it’s–”

“Wife?” Hotae looked between him and Donghee, the both of them blinking back at him, perplexed. Jisu had never been the recipient of one of Hotae’s brilliant smiles. He could see why he never had an issue finding a girlfriend in high school. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Donghee shook his head at his dongsaeng, but he didn’t seem annoyed.  

“Nothing, I just… I didn’t know you were married.” 

“I know people think we’re too young, but,” Jisu shrugged, “when you know, you know.” 

Hotae nodded sagely while Donghee rolled his eyes. “Why are you agreeing? You date a different woman every month.” 

“Yeah, well, you also know when you don’t know.” He seemed proud of his point, so when Donghee opened his mouth to argue with him, Jisu put up his hand to stop him.

“It sort of makes sense. Why waste time on a relationship you don’t know about?”

“Hey,” Hotae scooted closer to Jisu on the bench, “do you still talk to Daewon? What ever happened with him and that coach?”

“Dude, they had a fist fight in the pool, it was kind of funny to watch.”

“Ah, I wish I’d been there.” He laughed as Jisu imitated the two of them trying to fight in water, both of them splashing around, trying to throw punches that barely made impact. “Ah,” he winced as his shoulder twinged, and strangely, Hotae gave him an empathy wince.

“Don’t tell me it’s tendinitis.”

“Not yet, but…” 

“You should go to my mom’s restaurant, she makes ox bone soup, it’s really good for joints. What are you doing for lunch?” 

They both looked at Donghee, who stood with his arms crossed, watching them with narrowed eyes. “Ah, finally remembered you’re here to see me?”

Jisu picked up the drink Donghee had just made and took a sip. It wasn’t as bad as the last one, but still too sweet. “Hmmm, less sugar, but maybe add…” he smacked his lips for dramatic effect, “hazelnut?” 

He handed it to Hotae, who took a gulp and swished it around his mouth before nodding and putting an affectation in his voice. “Hazelnut would be just lovely.” 

“Alright, go,” Donghee took the drink back and shooed them away from his stall. “I can’t leave here until three. Go have lunch and talk about old swimming stories, and I don’t know… chest bump? What do athletes do when they get together?”

“That’s it,” Jisu said, nodding. “Chest bumps.”  

Donghee rolled his eyes. “Bring me back some soup.”

Chapter Text

Donghee swirled the whisky in his glass, watching the tiny whirlpool spin until it slowly leveled out again. “What’s whisky made of?”

Taejoon sighed beside him. “Grains.” 

It was a Wednesday, so the bar wasn’t that crowded. Responsible people were at home getting ready for bed, maybe giving their partner a goodnight kiss, maybe snuggling under the sheets and whispering wishes for sweet dreams.

But not Dongee. He was in a bar with his grumpy friend. Taejoon clicked his tongue. “Why are you avoiding the question?”

Had there been a question? Donghee’s foggy brain tried to go backwards in time to remember what exactly had sent him into the swirling whirlpool in the first place. It didn’t take him long. It was almost always the same thing.

Hotae. The thought of his lips. The way Donghee wanted to devour them. He’d called Taejoon needing a distraction so he wouldn’t march over to Hotae’s apartment and say yes to the stupid plan of dating him for a month. But wait. Was that what Taejoon had asked?

“I’m not avoiding the question, I just… don’t remember what it was.”

Taejoon looked towards the door, likely wishing he could walk through it and leave his drunk friend behind, go find his partner and kiss him goodnight and snuggle under the covers and whisper wishes for sweet dreams. But instead he was babysitting Donghee, who for his part was babysitting a bottle of whisky.

“I asked you why the hell you aren’t just dating the guy you’ve been pining after for as long as I’ve known you.” He took the glass away from Donghee and drank it himself, wincing as it went down. “No more booze. Just tell me the truth. I thought this was what you wanted.”

“A month ?” Donghee hated the whiny way the word came out. He tried to collect himself and speak like a grown-up, but it didn’t quite work. “Would you want to date someone as an experiment? If Wonyoung told you he only wanted to see if he liked you, if he said by the end of the month, he’d figure out if he…” the room swayed and he grabbed the bar to keep steady. “I have my pride, you know.”

“That’s it? You’re just scared he’ll break up with you after a month?”

“I’m not scared it’ll happen, he said it’ll happen. One month. That’s what he offered me.” And after that month? He’d be left with first-hand knowledge of what it would be like to receive Hotae’s constant, steady kindness, to be enveloped in warmth, to see the world through his eyes. Hotae charged at life with purpose, integrity, and an uncomplicated sense of loyalty. It was crazy to Donghee that people in the neighbourhood saw him as some kind of gangster just because he was big and had tattoos. Hotae was the gentlest person Donghee knew. And if he got to experience that gentleness close-up for a month and it was taken away? How could he go back to a life without it? 

“There really are no normal people in this town.” Taejoon lifted the glass to his mouth then made a face when he realized it was gone. “You know he’s probably more scared than you. He’s the one putting himself out there.”

“Yaaa,” Donghee pointed at his own chest, “I’m the one who’s been pining, he’s been off dating woman after woman.”

Taejoon snorted. “And you’ve been single this whole time?”

Donghee just glared at him. Those men had been his attempts to get over Hotae. They didn’t count.

“He made me think he was straight.”

“How? By asking you to teach him how to kiss?” Taejoon wasn’t the type to roll his eyes, but in this case it seemed like he really wanted to. “By following you around everywhere you went? By begging you to stay?”

“I wish I hadn’t told you any of that.”

“ You made the assumption he was straight, so you pushed him away, and now you’ve dragged me to a bar in the middle of the week to cry about him asking you out for a month. After all these years, you got what you wanted, and you’re saying no. Don’t pretend it’s anyone’s fault but your own.”

Heat prickled across Donghee’s skin; embarrassment mixed with booze mixed with frustration. Taejoon didn’t understand. He’d liked Wonyoung for a few months before they were together. Donghee had loved Hotae for over a decade. If he was going to risk everything, it had to be for more than the promise of a month.

“Risk what?”

Oh shit. Had he said that out loud? “Huh?”

“You said you’d risk everything. What are you risking? Your friendship?”

“You didn’t see her face.”

“Whose face?” Taejoon seemed interested now, leaning in close, trying to catch the soft words as they poured out of Donghee’s mouth.

“She wanted me gone. Wanted me away from him.”

“ Who did?”

“I can’t do that to her.” He’d made a promise. He’d told himself he could only move home from Seoul if he never, ever crossed the line with Hotae. It was the only way he could look Emo in the eyes.

“Do what?”

 “Betray her.” 

“ How? ” It was clear Taejoon was lost in Donghee’s mumbled confession, but Donghee didn’t want to clarify. Luckily, he didn’t have to. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he nearly fell off the stool attempting to pull it out. 

“It’s probably him,” Taejoon said, shaking his head. “The two of you are hopeless.”

But it wasn’t Hotae. The contact on the screen made him sit up and attempt to shake off the fog of booze before accepting the call.

“Mom? Um, hold on, I can’t hear you.”

Taejoon’s eyes went wide, then he ushered Donghee out of the bar, past the smokers outside and down an alleyway.

“Donghee-ya, are you okay? Where are you?”

The last time he’d heard her voice was three years ago on his birthday. They’d gone through the polite motions and by the end of the conversation Donghee told her she didn’t have to call anymore, that his birthday wasn’t important to him. 

“Out with a friend.” 

The silence through the speaker was the loudest thing Donghee had ever heard. “With Hotae?”

“No, someone else.”

“I won’t keep you, then.”

“Would it matter? If it was Hotae?” He leaned against the cold bricks of the wall, taking deep breaths to stay focused (and to keep from throwing up). Taejoon kept a respectable distance; far enough away to not seem like he was listening, but close enough to catch him if he fell over. 

“I’d want to talk to him, too, if he was there.” 

“Talk to him?” Donghee was pretty sure it wasn’t just the alcohol throwing off his equilibrium. Why would his mother want to talk to Hotae?

“To thank him.”

“Thank him?” Shit, was he just repeating everything she was saying? 

“Yes, thank him. Your father told me what happened. He said he tried to talk to you, but Hotae got in the way.”

“You’re still talking to him, then.”

“More like getting talked at, but yes, I still take his calls. He’s the father of my son.”

“Not anymore.”

The breath she took wasn’t surprised. It was more a confirmation, a taking-in. “Yes, he said that, too.” 

“Are you angry?”

“Angry?” Her laugh was somehow both hard and light. “No, Donghee-ya, I’m proud. I wish I could have fought that battle for you. I wish I could be as strong as you.” 

The sobs were so sudden and visceral that Taejoon ran over to catch him before he fell. His mother was proud of him. She thought he was strong. The words ran through him, weaving through other truths: his mother had let it happen, she didn’t protect him. 

“My son…” her voice was full of tears, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I regret so many things. I love you, Donghee-ya. I’m so sorry.” 

His mother loved him. She was sorry. She was better off without him and he was better off without her. He didn’t need her. He missed her. He loved her.

Too many conflicting things were true, and they were taking up too much space in his chest, making it impossible to breathe. 

Taejoon took the phone from his hand. “This is Donghee’s friend. I’m taking him home. You should call a different time.” 

He didn’t wait for her answer before hanging up. Taejoon had never had much patience for parental figures. “Come on,” he put his arm under Donghee’s shoulders and scooped him up with shocking grace and strength. Donghee still hadn’t stopped crying. His mother’s words had dug up a decade’s worth of hurt that now refused to stay buried. With every sob, every heave, he felt the pain work its way from the bottom of his soul to burn through his throat and be wretched out of his mouth. 

Taejoon had hailed a cab and gotten them both inside, waving away the driver’s concern. “Bad fish,” he said. “Never trust a restaurant with no customers.” 

Donghee tried to feel grateful to him. He’d called him out on a weekday, complained about his love life, gotten drunk, and had an emotional breakdown in an alleyway. It was a lot for a drinking buddy to handle. And as much as Donghee appreciated Taejoon’s stoney presence and lack of questions, he still wished it was Hotae beside him. Or Emo. Or both of them. He wanted someone who knew what that phone call had meant to him. He wanted his family. 

Taejoon got him into his apartment and forced him to drink a glass of water before flopping him onto his bed. “Phone.”

“Phone who?”

Taejoon sighed. “Give me your phone, Donghee.”

Donghee clutched it to his chest. “Why?”

“Because I know you’re thinking of calling Hotae right now, and that is a very bad idea. Hand it over.”

He was right. Of course he was right. “Would it be so bad?”

“Yes.” He put out his hand. “It’s for your own good.” 

Donghee reluctantly handed it to him and Taejoon tucked it into his pocket, along with any hope of Donghee finding comfort tonight. “I’m sleeping on your couch. You’ll get this in the morning.” 

“You’re cold-hearted, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” 

“And you’re a really good friend. You know that?”

Taejoon blinked at him, a slight tremor in his otherwise statuesque demeanor. “I do now.” 

“Can I have my phone back?”

He turned the lights off on the way out of the bedroom. “Goodnight, Donghee.” 

Hotae couldn’t stay away from Donghee. He never could, of course, but now he had a reason to, and he still couldn’t do it. He’d tried to shut his feelings off in the month leading up to Donghee’s birthday, but it hadn’t worked, and the effort just made him look constipated. 

Then that bastard had shown up, and the fear on Donghee’s face brought Hotae right back to high school, sitting in their front yard beside an uneaten birthday cake, a beaten and bruised Donghee crying on his shoulder. In that moment, Hotae had made a vow to himself to always be there for Donghee, no matter what he needed. He wasn’t about to break that vow just because his heart was broken. Again. 

So there he was at the café, his head hovering above his GED study book, but his eyes trailing after Donghee as he answered calls, made drinks, and fiddled with the espresso machine, pretending for some reason that it needed fixing. 

“I checked it yesterday,” Hotae said, “it’s fine.” 

“I know, I’m just making sure. Pay attention to your book, not me.” He hadn’t looked at Hotae since he’d gotten there. In fact, he hadn’t looked at Hotae for a few days. Maybe he was sick of him showing up to the café to study. Maybe he was just sick of him in general. 

“How can I when you’re banging around on that machine?”

“This is a coffee shop, not a library. Do you want us all to be quiet so you can study?”

Us all. Hotae huffed, looking around at the empty seats save for one woman on her phone in the corner. 

“You’re the one who wants me to get my GED so bad.”

“So bad ly .” Donghee smirked at him and Hotae almost felt like they were back to normal, but then Donghee’s eyes slid away, back to the machine. “Stupid thing…” 

The door jingled and Wonyoung came in with a huge smile. “I knew you’d both be here. Donghee Hyung, are you tutoring him, too?”

“That’s a good idea,” Hotae said as Donghee practically grunted, “Absolutely not.” 

Hotae tried not to be hurt. Donghee had a boyfriend now, he didn’t have time to teach him about Korean history. As if on cue, Donghee got a text that made him run his hands through his hair, looking nervous but also giddy. 

“Hey, Wonyoung, can you close the store for me tonight?” 

The kid clicked his tongue. “You do remember I don’t work here anymore, right?”

“But you still remember how to do it. I’ll pay you double.”

He bit his lip. “I just came to wait for Sajangnim to close up his store, we’re going out.” 

"When will you start calling your boyfriend by his actual name?"

Wonyoung looked at Hotae as if he put the words into Donghee’s mouth himself. "Why is everyone obsessed with what I call him??" When they just laughed at him, Wonyoung shook his head. “I can’t close for you.” 

Donghee looked down at his phone again. “Maybe I should just close early.” 

“Why? I can do it.” Hotae had closed the store for him countless times before, he didn’t understand why Donghee wasn’t asking. Sure, it was strange to help the love of his life go on a date with another man, but he’d vowed to be there for him, and that was what he’d do. 

“Um…” Donghee fiddled with the cloth he’d been using to clean the machine, “you don’t mind?” 

“No. Just go. It’ll be quieter for me to study anyway.”

Donghee rolled his eyes. “Just study at home if you want it quiet.”

“And then there wouldn’t be anyone to close the store. You’re welcome .” 

Donghee looked at his phone again, then he nodded and tucked it into his pocket, taking off his apron and handing it to Hotae. “Thank you.” 

Wonyoung watched him go with a pinched, confused expression. “What was that about? You close all the time.”

“He’s going on a date.”

“What?!?!?” The kid came to the counter and sat beside Hotae. “You didn’t confess?”

“I did. He said no.” Hotae closed his book and got up. He couldn’t be so close to Wonyoung’s pity. 

Wonyoung shook his head, his eyes fading away like he needed to go inside himself to figure out the situation. “So then, why are you helping with the café? Doesn't it hurt to be around him?"

"So what, just because he's not my boyfriend, I should cut him out of my life?"

"No, that's not–"

Hotae knew his anger was misplaced. The kid wasn’t saying anything Hotae hadn’t thought himself. "If your Sajangnim broke up with you–"

"That would never happen."

"Well, if it did , would you ignore him if he needed help?"

Wonyoung went inside himself again. It seemed like he couldn’t think things through without shutting out the entire world first. "No."

"Right."

"But…" he seemed at the end of his rope, “this isn’t exactly an emergency, he can close the store early for one night.”

"You don't understand what this business means to him." No one did. Everyone in the neighbourhood was shocked when the top student came back to open a café instead of becoming some big-time businessman in Seoul. But Hotae knew better. He knew Donghee would rather die than turn into his dad. He knew he’d never want to put on a suit every day and think more about numbers than people. And he knew he wanted to open a business on his own, so he wouldn’t have to rely on anyone— anyone —ever again.  

Luckily Hotae didn’t have to field any more probing questions, because Taejoon walked in looking as grumpy as ever until his eyes fell on Wonyoung. “Thanks for waiting.”

“No problem.” Wonyoung smiled back at him like a big dope. Hotae hoped that wasn’t what he looked like when he looked at Donghee. People in love were so annoying. 

“Where’s Donghee?” 

Wonyoung awkwardly looked at Hotae, apparently not willing to say the words, which meant Hotae had to. “On a date with his boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Taejoon’s voice rose a single note, which for him was basically like screaming. “Since when?”

“Around a month.” Five weeks and four days, not that Hotae was counting.

Wonyoung’s eyebrows shot up. "He didn't tell you?"

"No. He usually tells me every sordid detail of his love life, no matter how many times I’ve asked him not to.” He frowned. “Strange. We had drinks a few nights ago.” 

That was strange. Hotae zoned out as the two of them chatted, gathered Wonyoung’s jacket and said their goodbyes. 

They lived in a small neighbourhood. Even if Donghee’s new boyfriend lived outside of it, someone would’ve seen them together at some point. And this was the first time Hotae had seen him leave to go meet him. If they really liked each other as much as Donghee said, wouldn’t he always be going to see him? Wouldn’t he always be looking at his phone, texting or calling or sending dumb, cute little stickers? Even if he was trying to hide his relationship from Hotae to spare his feelings, there would be some signs, wouldn’t there? 

But there weren’t. 

He shouldn’t have slid his phone out of his pocket to call him, but Hotae had always been a man of impulse. It only rang twice before Donghee picked up.

“Hotae? Is something wrong at the store?”

“No. I just… ah, I don’t remember how to make that fancy cookie drink.”

“Oh.” Donghee’s relieved breath against the speaker didn’t drown out the murmur of chatter coming through from the background. Wherever he was, it was public. “Just tell them it’s unavailable right now and make something easy. Oh, and give them a coupon for next time.” 

“Oka–”

“Donghee-ya, is everything alright?” A woman’s voice. A woman??? Before Hotae could ask who that was, Donghee jumped in. 

“I have to go, okay? You can close early if you want. Thank you, Hotae.”

The screen went blank. 

A woman.

Not a date?

Or was it a date?

Had Donghee taken his father’s words to heart?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t . 

So if it wasn’t a date, then why did he leave so quickly? And why wasn’t he seeing his supposed boyfriend? 

Hotae reached under the counter and pulled out the watch Donghee still kept there. 

What else was he hiding? 

Donghee slid his phone back in his pocket and gave his mom an awkward, sheepish smile. “Just a café non-emergency. It’s fine.” 

“Did I pull you away? I could have met you later.” 

“No, this is fine.” Donghee had left one coffee shop for another, though granted, where they sat now was a lot fancier than his small little shop in the complex. He’d expected his mom to disappear again after their phone call the other night, so when she’d texted asking if they could meet, he didn’t want to give her time to change her mind. 

“I was surprised you were willing to meet right away.” Her smile was shy and soft, the shape of it exactly like Donghee’s own. He’d inherited so much from her: her smile, her eyes, her delicate structure. Maybe that was why his father hated him so much. He didn’t see enough of himself in his son. 

Donghee tried to shake that man from his brain. After so long, his mom was right there in front of him, her legs crossed and her hands grasped tightly in her lap. He didn’t want to ruin whatever this was with thoughts about his father. 

It seemed like she’d tried to avoid shows of wealth: no earrings, no pearls, no expensive bag. But she was still dressed nicely in slacks, a blouse and heels. Though of course, it never mattered what she wore, she always exuded elegance. 

“You look nice,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

“Ah,” she glanced down at herself. “I wanted…” she laughed, shaking her head, “well, I wanted to look good for you. As stupid as that is.”

“It’s not stupid.” He wished he was dressed in something better than the jeans and sweater he’d been wearing at the shop. 

It’s how I show people respect, she’d once told Donghee as he watched her carefully roll curlers into her hair one night, looking my best means I think they’re worth the effort.  

He stirred the coffee in front of him, filling the silence with the clink of his spoon on the mug. He still hadn’t taken a sip. Caffeine was probably a bad idea in a situation where he was already on edge. 

“So,” his mom plowed forward through the awkwardness, “the person you were with when I called. A friend, or…?”

“Friend.” 

“Ah.” She nodded, seeming glad. 

“Sorry he was rude.” 

She smiled, and for the first time since he’d gotten there, it wasn’t self-conscious. “I like that you have these people in your life. He wasn’t concerned with propriety, he just,” she shrugged, “hung up on me.”

“Well, if you like rude people, you’ll love Taejoon.” 

“Not rude,” she shook her head, “protective. Like Hotae. Like Minjae. Like Jaewon was.” The admiration in her voice was laced with gratitude, and it transferred to Donghee. She was right. His father had been right, too, when he said Hotae got it from Emo. He was so lucky to have them in his life. 

“Samcheon was protective? I don’t remember that. I remember him being really soft and quiet.”

“Oh,” she sat forward like they were a couple of pals gossiping instead of mother and son, “he didn’t show it in the same way as Minjae and Hotae, but he was. You know he and your Emo were high school sweethearts?” Donghee nodded. He’d heard the story so many times, especially when Emo got drunk. She’d had to make all the moves. “Well, that meant that her best friend turned into his best friend, too,” she smiled fondly. “We were quite close in those days. And when I announced I was marrying your father, he took me aside and asked me not to.”

“What? Really?”

“Oh yes, he said he had a bad feeling about him, and that the things he said when it was just the men…” she shivered. “He wouldn’t tell me, but I can imagine now.” 

“Maybe you should’ve listened.”

She shook her head, her hand reaching for his, but settling on the table instead. “Then I wouldn’t have you.” 

Would that be so bad? he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. Did she really have him? Did he really have her? This was the first they’d seen each other in years. 

She must have seen the thoughts on his face because she leaned back in her chair, her hand falling back to her lap. “Donghee-ah, I’m–”

“Don’t apologize again. Please.” He couldn’t stand it. Not because he didn’t think she had anything to apologize for, but because he hadn’t figured out how to receive it yet. He didn’t want to accept it right away, but he also didn’t want to reject it. She was his mother, after all, and she was a victim, too. 

“Okay. No apologies, just the facts.” She took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “I stayed away from you because I was ashamed. I thought his money could help you more than his abuse would harm you. I thought if I stayed with him, I could support you, I could keep you away from him and send you…” her voice broke and she closed her eyes, but pushed through, “if I could send you money, it would be the best of both worlds. You wouldn’t have to see him, but you could still have the benefit of a rich family. But then…” she opened her eyes and faltered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“But then I didn’t accept the money.” He hadn’t wanted anything from his parents, even if it meant struggling. He didn’t want to have to answer to them in any way. Didn’t want to owe them. 

“And I stayed with him anyway.” She tried to stop the tears through sheer willpower. He’d seen it before. He’d done it before. The quick breath, the clenching, the rapid blinking. Maybe she didn’t think she deserved to cry in front of him. Maybe she thought she didn’t deserve his empathy. And maybe she didn’t, but she got it anyway. He reached across the table and she quickly took his hand in both of hers, talking to it instead of him. 

“I couldn’t face you until I’d left him for good. I kept thinking it would happen soon, but then I’d get scared, and the more time that passed, the more ashamed I became. He has the power to ruin me, do you know that? Getting a job, supporting myself…” she squeezed his hand, “it seemed impossible. He’s so powerful, he could destroy my chances with a single phone call. And then I’d be helpless, and I refused to go to you for help, not when you’d worked so hard to break free of us. So I just…” she finally looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears, “I stayed with him, and I stayed away from you, and I’m so–” she clenched her jaw tight. “No apologies. Just the truth.” 

He stared at her, taking her in, his mother who always seemed so poised, now crying in a café. Everything she’d said made sense. It would have been so hard for her to leave. But that didn’t erase the hurt, and it didn’t make his anger go away. 

“Thank you for telling me that.” 

She must’ve picked up on his tone because she slid her hands back. “I want to be in your life.” 

“I think I have to go.” He hadn’t meant it to come out so bluntly, but the air in the room had become suffocating and he couldn’t sit there anymore. 

For a split second her face dropped, but she recovered fast, as if she knew this was a possible outcome. “Of course.” 

“Not forever. Just…” 

She nodded. “I know I don’t get to just be welcomed back without earning it. But I promise, Donghee-ya, I will earn it.” 

He wanted to believe her, but history was a cruel teacher, and his heart had been let down too many times. 

The walk home took over an hour. Maybe he should have taken the subway or a taxi, but he needed the fresh air. He needed his body to take over on autopilot and guide him home while his mind replayed each moment of their meeting. He wanted her in his life. He was rooting for her. Rooting for them . But he wasn’t going to let it happen too easily. If she could put in effort in her appearance to show people respect, she could put in effort in their relationship to show Donghee respect. 

He glanced up at his café on his way past the building complex, surprised to find the lights still on. Had Hotae left without properly closing up? He was tempted to just keep on walking and deal with it in the morning, but he also didn’t want to show up to a shop that had been robbed in the middle of the night. 

Hotae hadn’t forgotten to close up, he just hadn’t left. Donghee stood in front of the glass door, looking in at him. He was sitting behind the counter, his GED book open in front of him, but his eyes fixed on a point on the wall. Maybe he’d gotten so into his studies that he’d lost track of time. It would be a first, but it was possible. 

The bell of the door snapped him out of it, and he blinked a few times before his eyes landed on Donghee. 

“Where were you?”

The intensity of the question threw Donghee off. “What do you mean? You didn’t have to stay here until I got back, you could have gone–” 

“I asked where you were.” 

“And I heard you.” He felt raw, his emotions all stirred up, scratching at the inside of his skin. He wouldn’t be able to keep his cool around Hotae. He shouldn’t have come up here, he should’ve just gone home and let the shop get robbed. 

“Kim Donghee.” Hotae stood, his eyes, which had been so zoned out a few moments before, were now on fire. “There’s no boyfriend, is there?” 

“Wh… what?” 

“You don’t talk about him, you don’t go see him, you don’t seem happy.” He walked from behind the counter towards Donghee, but stopped in the middle of the shop when Donghee took a few steps back towards the door. 

He wanted to escape. He knew he was in no state to resist him. How was Hotae always so open? How did he allow every single feeling and thought to play so vividly across his face? How was he so fearless?  

“Did you lie to me?” His voice should’ve been angry, but instead it was desperate, like he needed it confirmed. When Donghee didn’t answer, it seemed Hotae had his answer.

“Why would you… do you know how much that…” he clenched his jaw. "You hate me that much? Is the idea of being with me so disgusting to you?"

"How do you not understand yet? It's the opposite!” He wasn’t able to shove it down anymore, not tonight, not when his heart felt like an exposed nerve. “I want you so much my chest aches with it. You’re the most important person in my life, I never want to be without you, and when you’re near me I feel like I’m going insane. It’s always been like that. Always. If I hadn’t lied, if you’d kept going, I wouldn't have been able to resist you!"

"Why do you need to?" Hotae had taken small steps towards him, his face lighting up with each word. 

"Because I’d never be able to go back!” It was spewing out of him like smoke, all the wanting, the fear, the love, the pain. He was so tired of fighting it. “You break hearts, Go Hotae, you always have, and if I let you, you’ll shatter mine completely.”

“But you know that’s not true. Everyone else… they weren’t you.”

“There’s no difference. I need someone who’s serious about–”

Hotae grunted in frustration, taking one more desperate but small step toward him. “You keep saying I'm not serious, but you said you want a Latin guy so I learned Spanish for you.”

Donghee huffed. “A few phrases.”

“I come running any time you need me.” 

“And I do the same, because we're friends! And if we date, that friendship will be–”

“Stop using that as an excuse and just tell me you don't love me back."

Time stopped. All of the pain, the confusion, the resistance inside of Donghee evaporated, leaving him lighter than he’d ever been. “Love? But you said... you said one month.” 

Hotae narrowed his eyes. “Yaa, Kim Donghee, are you sure you're smart? Why did you go to a good university in Seoul if you were going to come back just as dumb as the rest of us?” 

⁠"But…” was it really possible? Could Hotae, his Hotae, could he really… “but you said..."

⁠"Stop listening to what I say and pay attention to what I do ." 

Hotae closed the distance between them, put his hand on Donghee’s neck and guided him to his lips. The kiss was surprisingly gentle and soft, just long enough for Donghee to taste the sweet coffee on his breath. Then it was over, and Hotae was looking into his eyes, seeking permission, or desire, or love.

Donghee gave him all three. 

The kiss had lit a fire inside him that grew with each echo of Hotae’s words. He loved him. Hotae loved him. And Donghee needed to show him just how much he loved him back. So he pulled him close, as if he could make up for all the times he’d pushed him away. 

He wasn’t prepared for how intensely he needed Hotae’s touch, for how hungry he’d been for it. Hotae’s hand was still on his neck, gently kneading his skin as their lips moved together, his other hand on Donghee’s hip, his fingers clutching his shirt. 

Hotae pulled away for a breath and Donghee pulled him right back in. Now that he was kissing him, he couldn’t stop—wouldn’t ever stop. He’d stand there for the rest of his life with his arms wrapped around Hotae as customers came and went. 

Hotae kissed him from every angle there was to kiss him, his hand inching to the back of his head, his fingers tangling in his hair. 

Donghee was lost in the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him: spices from cooking, his eucalyptus shampoo, coffee grounds and sugar. His skin, oh god, his skin was everything Donghee had imagined it would be, everything he remembered from the rainy nights when he’d curl up next to him for comfort. He ran his hands up Hotae’s back, pulling him even closer, needing him closer, and they stumbled until Donghee’s back was against the wall and Hotae’s body pressed against his. 

“Kim Donghee…” Hotae’s mouth left his and trailed up his jaw.

Donghee’s response came out as a breathless sigh. “Go Hotae…” 

It felt so good. So right . The fire inside him had turned into an inferno he had no control over. So he let it consume him, let it take his breath away, let it turn his mind off and his body on. Everything in this moment was Hotae, nothing else existed. 

He found Hotae’s mouth again and sucked on his bottom lip, earning a moan that did things to his body he’d never experienced before. Nevermind the inferno… that moan was a nuclear bomb. 

He’d imagined what it would be like to kiss Hotae countless times since high school, always remembering how it felt back then, never daring to imagine beyond their innocent, awkward fumbling. But they weren’t teenagers anymore, and as familiar as Hotae’s kisses still were, they were also more confident, more sensual, more… he moaned as Hotae slid his tongue against his… just more . 

No kiss had ever been like this. No kiss had ever lit up his whole body and soul before. His every molecule hummed at Hotae’s touch: he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, Kim Donghee . 

Hotae pulled back and the space between them crackled, as if they were connected by some cosmic energy. Donghee gave him a second to catch his breath before leaning in again, but Hotae pulled away, chuckling, his arms wrapping around Donghee in a hug, his forehead pressing against his. Their breath was heavy, both of their chests rising and falling in rhythm. Donghee was mildly surprised they were still standing in his shop, that they still existed in time and space.

“So,” Hotae was still so close that Donghee could feel his words against his lips, “are we dating now?” 

Yes. The word reverberated through his soul, but didn’t make it past his lips. He wanted to say it, wanted to weave himself into Hotae and stay there forever. But he’d come back to himself now. They did exist in time and space. They existed in a world that wouldn’t make it easy for them. They existed in the same world as Emo and her hopes and expectations. They existed in a world where the word yes wasn’t so simple.

“I don’t think so.”

Hotae’s dreamy smile dropped. “What?”

Donghee put his hands on Hotae’s arms and gently pushed them away so he could step out from between him and the wall. It felt like ripping himself in half, his heart and soul still in Hotae’s arms, watching in horror as his body stepped out of them. Hotae looked like he wasn’t going to let him, but then his hands balled into fists and he stepped back. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Emo…” he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

“What does she have to do with us?”

Donghee’s eyes stung. This was why he’d resisted Hotae in the first place. Coming down to reality was so painful he felt like he could crumble to the floor and never get up. 

“I can’t do this to her.”

Hotae looked around, his face a mixture of confusion and anger. “I don’t see my mom here, what exactly are you doing to her?”

“You don’t need to live this life. You can date women, you can–”

“Obviously I can’t!” He pointed to the scar above his eyebrow caused by a keychain on the bag of a particularly pissed off ex. “I’ve never been able to, not really.” When Donghee didn’t say anything, Hotae held out his arms in dumbfounded frustration, as if to say, why aren’t you in them ? “I love you, and you love me… you do love me, don’t you?” 

Donghee couldn’t lie anymore. They were beyond that. “Yes.”

“Then why ?”

“⁠Do you think Emo wants this life for you?” He hated the strangled way his words came out. He wished he could be confident like Hotae. He wished he could believe in what he said the way Hotae always seemed to. 

Hotae ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. “Because my life is so amazing without you!?! Look around! I was so miserable after you left that I broke my leg and dropped out of school. I haven't been in a relationship for longer than a month because no one in the world compares to you. I've just been stuck in the same spot waiting for you to come back."

"But I came back."

"Not to the neighbourhood , Donghee, to me ." He pulled him close again, both hands cupping his face, taking a long breath as if he could breathe him in and carry his soul in his own body. "Come back to me, Donghee." 

Donghee let the sobs rock through his body. “⁠I can't.” 

“Please.” 

“I can’t.” He closed his eyes, knowing he’d never be able to walk away if he could see the anguish on Hotae’s face. 

“Try. Please . Can’t you just try?” He heard the shake in Hotae’s voice, but couldn’t open his eyes to see him crying. It would break him open and he wouldn’t ever leave this moment, he’d be trapped here forever living in Hotae’s tears. 

“I’m sorry.” He stepped back, away from him, away from what they could be, and left before the weight of his decision crushed him completely. 

EPILOGUE

June 8, 2020

Taejoon dipped the roller into the paint and tried his best not to frown. He hadn’t expected to get roped into manual labour when he’d come to make his introductions to the young man opening a café near his shop, but he was offered free coffee for a month, and he was only human.

“I understand you had a stall before?”

Donghee nodded, continuing to haphazardly roll his own paint in wild strokes with no rhyme or reason. “By the beach, but I saved up enough to open this–”

“Yaa, if you keep doing it like that, I’ll have to re-do everything.” Donghee’s friend Hotae (who Taejoon had learned worked in the restaurant by the market) clicked his tongue and stood behind him, covering Donghee’s hand with his own and running the roller up and down in a straight line. “Like this.”

It was a simple enough instruction, but Hotae stayed there, his chest pressed to Donghee’s back as they painted the wall together, perhaps forgetting it wasn’t a two-person job. Taejoon had the impulse to look away from what seemed like an intimate moment, though that was ridiculous. They were just painting.

“Okay, I got it.” Donghee tried to squirm away, but Hotae didn’t let go in time and they stumbled, resulting in Donghee’s face pressing against the wet paint. Donghee peeled himself off, taking a cheek-full of beige paint from the wall.

Hotae backed away, looking shocked and contrite for about half a second before an amused grin creeped onto his face. “If I’m being honest, it makes you look better.”

Donghee glared at him, raising his paint roller. “Come here.”

“I was helping!” Hotae backed away, his arms raised in defense, his laughter filling up the room. Taejoon couldn’t believe this was the same young man some of the neighbourhood residents had warned him about. He seemed like a kid having the time of his life as his friend chased him, both of them dodging open paint cans, slipping on tarps, and jumping over the counter to escape and pursue.

Donghee finally managed to run the roller over Hotae’s neck and Hotae’s eyes crackled with mischief. “If this is how you repay me for helping…” he bent down and dipped his fingers into the open paint can. “Then I guess I can thank you right back.”

“Yaa!” Paint squished between their hands as Donghee grabbed Hotae’s to block him, but it didn’t matter because Hotae used their clasped hands to pull Donghee close and rub his neck on Donghee’s, transferring some of the still-wet paint.

They both yelped as the tarp beneath them shifted and they fell, a tangle of limbs and laughter.  

“Are you okay?”

They both looked up at Taejoon as if they’d forgotten he was there.

“Yes, yeah, we’re fine.” Donghee extracted himself from his friend and stood. “Sorry you had to see that.” He reached out a hand to help Hotae up, but the paint on both their hands was too slippery, so Hotae got halfway up, then fell back down, throwing a glare at Donghee.

“You did that on purpose.”

“No I didn’t, you big baby.”

Taejoon stepped forward to assist, but Donghee waved him off. “It’s okay, I got him.” He held his forearm like they do in old Viking movies, and tucked his other hand under Hotae’s shoulder, leaving a paint stain on his shirt.

Taejoon wasn’t certain why Hotae couldn’t just get up himself, but he wasn’t about to ask.

Hotae’s phone buzzed on the counter and he looked down at his hands before throwing a look to Taejoon. “Ah, sorry, but…”

Taejoon picked it up and conveyed the message: an order had come into the restaurant, and Hotae was needed. He dropped the phone into the pocket of Hotae’s apron, then watched as he rubbed one last smear of paint across Donghee’s chin and giggled, making his escape.

“Yaaa!” Donghee made a move as if to run after him, then shook his head, smiling at the door.

Taejoon knew that look. He’d given that look. He let his new acquaintance bask in the glow of flirtation for a while, his eyes still following Hotae through the glass.

“How long have you known him?”

“Hmmm?” Donghee looked at Taejoon as if forgetting he was there for a second time. Taejoon didn’t take it personally. “Ah, Hotae? My whole life. Or, I guess,” he cocked his head, “ his whole life, since I’m older.”

And how long have you been in love with him? Taejoon felt oddly compelled to ask, but didn’t. It wasn’t his business. If he started prying into the lives of the people in this neighbourhood, they’d start prying back, and he couldn’t have that.

But still. It was nice knowing there was someone here like him. Perhaps this was the beginning of a cordial friendship. As long as he didn’t get too emotionally invested in this man’s life, everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

How do I live now

How do I see you 

And smile

And say good morning

Knowing what you taste like

Knowing how it feels to touch you

To feel your body pressed against mine

To hear the sounds you make 

and my name on your breath

How do I forget your lips on mine

How do I wave at you on the street

How do I leave you be? 

I love you I love you Donghee and you love me

But you’re not mine and I don’t know why

And now I’m empty

You scooped out every part of me that was important

And left it on the floor

And then walked over it on your way out

And now I’m not me anymore

So how do I live 

How do I live without you, Kim Donghee?

Hotae slammed the book closed and stood from his table to pace around his apartment. He’d gotten his wish—he was able to write in that damn book without crying. He wasn’t sad now, he was angry. He was really angry. In the span of a few hours, he’d found out Donghee lied to him about some bullshit boyfriend, then he’d flown to heaven thinking they would finally be together, then he’d crashed back down to hell when Donghee walked out on him. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to rip the notebook to shreds. How had they gotten here? If he traveled back in time to high school, could he fix this? Could he confess to him then? Stop him from leaving? 

No. He wouldn’t do that. Donghee needed that time away to heal. Okay, so when? Right when he came back? When he pretended Hotae was his long-lost childhood friend? When he started treating Hotae like an annoying dongsaeng? Could Hotae have crashed through it then? Could he have been with Donghee that whole time?

No. That wouldn’t have worked, either. Because it wasn’t just about Hotae. How had he not known Donghee felt that way about his mom? And why? His mom loved Donghee like a son, she’d be thrilled to have him as a son-in-law.

Wouldn’t she?

“Argh!” He threw another annoyed look at his notebook then stomped downstairs. His hand was on the door to go outside when he heard his mom call him. 

“Where are you going?”

He waited until she came out of the kitchen and he studied her face. Was she really standing between him and the love of his life? Would she really do that, or was it all in Donghee’s head? 

“Mom…” he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t bring it up. If Donghee was right… 

“Hmmm?” She wiped her hands on her apron, her face slowly shifting with curiosity. “What is it?” 

“Have you read The Metamorphosis? Where the guy turns into a bug?” 

“Isn’t that a movie?”

“Yeah, it’s a book, too. Donghee left it behind when he went to school, so I read it.” Well, he’d read some of it.  

“Okay…?” 

“If I turned into a bug, would I still be Hotae? Or would I just be a bug?”

She laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Answer the question. Would you kill me, if I was a bug?”

She clicked her tongue. “How could I ever kill you?”

“I’d be a bug.”

She crossed her arms, looking him up and down as if really considering the question. “No, you’d be my Hotae. Bug or no.” 

The relief was surprising. He’d always known that, hadn’t he? That she’d love him no matter what? She didn’t kick him out when he dropped out of high school, or when he’d gotten tattoos and acted like a gangster, or when he crashed his motorcycle. 

“Then…” Why couldn’t he say it? Maybe because it wasn’t only his secret to tell. 

“Then what?” 

“Nothing.” He opened the door to leave. “I’m going for a walk.” 

She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t question it. “Get dish soap on your way back, we’re out.” 

“Okay.” 

“Hotae.” He turned back and caught the worry on her face before she hid it away. “Everything’s okay, right?”

A nod was as big of a lie as he could manage. 

“Be safe.”

He huffed. “I’m almost thirty. What’s going to happen? I’ll be abducted?” 

“There are still things that can happen to grown men.”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but he still gave her a smirk. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m more grown than most grown men.” 

She smiled, but there was something sad under it that Hotae didn’t want to see. 

He walked down the street towards the water, hating the heavy feeling in his chest. His mom was his mom. If she was the one standing between him and Donghee… he’d already lost his dad, he couldn’t lose her, too. But he also refused to lose Donghee.

So he’d just have to find a way to keep them both. 

Donghee knew it was Taejoon at the door by the no-nonsense way he knocked, but the cocoon of blankets he’d cultivated on his couch was far too warm and cozy for him to get up.

“Two, seven, zero, six!” Hotae’s birthday. He’d been telling himself for years to change it, but he was pathetic enough to think it didn’t matter. It was just a lock code, right?

On the other side of the door, Taejoon’s mumbles mixed with the beeps. He looked even more grumpy than usual as he walked in, his expression slightly hinting at concern.

“Don’t tell people your passcode.” 

Donghee just snuggled further into his blanket fortress. “Why are you here?”

“Because you haven’t opened the shop in three days. Are you sick?”

“Yes,” he lifted the blanket over his face, “go away or you’ll catch it.” 

“Uh huh…” a rustling just beyond the blankets suggested Taejoon was tidying up the empty Raman bowls and Gatorade bottles. Donghee knew he should be embarrassed, but he couldn’t bring himself to be anything other than sorry for himself. 

“Please tell me you’ve eaten more than packaged Raman.”

“I’ve eaten more than packaged Raman.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yes.” He could barely force down a few bites at a time. Apparently his body was so full of regret and pain that there wasn’t enough room for food. 

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with Hotae wandering around town at all hours of the night for the past three nights in a row?” 

“What?” He flipped the blankets off him. “How do you know that?”

“The market ladies.” The market ladies always knew what was happening. They probably had a network of spies. “What’s going on?” Donghee tried to escape back under his blankets, but Taejoon ripped them away. “Sit up and talk to me like an adult.”

“You’re so mean!” His mom really would love him. Donghee struggled to get into a seated position (damn, maybe food really was important to the human body) and took a breath to stop the room from spinning. “It’s just taking me longer to get over him this time.” 

Taejoon snorted, sitting beside him on the couch. “You say that like you’ve ever been over him.”

“I have been! I’m an expert at it by now.” Taejoon started looking for something, lifting the blankets, opening drawers, checking under papers. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, here.” He found Donghee’s leather journal and pulled out a picture of Donghee and Hotae in their high school uniforms, Donghee’s arm around Hotae’s neck, both of them laughing. Donghee loved that picture. Taejoon dropped it with the book on the coffee table, then picked up Donghee’s wallet and pulled out the picture of them standing on the beach behind the big red Mangsang frame. 

He waved the picture in Dongee’s face. “We take pictures with our phones these days. You would’ve had to upload it onto a USB, take it to a printer, pay money to–”

“Okay, I get it.” Donghee snatched the picture away from Taejoon and gently folded it back into his wallet. 

“These are not the actions of a man who ever got over his high school crush.” 

“Okay, so I never got over him. So what? There’s nothing I can do about it now, so just let me wallow in self-pity for one more day, okay? I’ll open the shop tomorrow and get on with my life.”

Taejoon had an unsettling way of staring at someone like he was analyzing the core of their very existence. He didn’t move, didn’t look away, barely blinked. Donghee squirmed under his scrutiny until he finally got fed up.

“What?”

“I never cared about this kind of stuff before.” 

Whatever Donghee was expecting his friend to say, those words were nowhere near his expectations. “Wh… what?”

“It’s interesting.” Taejoon’s tone was that of a scientist discovering a bug had an extra leg. “Why am I here right now? Why should I care if you and Hotae work out whatever nonsense is keeping you apart? But I do care. It’s so strange.” 

Donghee couldn’t help but laugh at Taejoon’s dumbfounded expression. It was the first time he’d smiled in days, and it felt foreign, but nice. “Are you okay?”

“I think Wonyoung changed me. I think now that I’m happy with him, I want everyone around me to be happy, too.” His frown etched lines across his whole face. “How annoying.” 

“Well then I apologize for staining your perfectly happy world.” 

 “Apology accepted.” Taejoon stood and wiped off his pants as if Donghee’s couch may have contaminated him with misery. Who knows, maybe it could have. “Take a shower, then go get real food.” He was about to walk away when a thought hit him and he turned back, awkwardly leaning to pat Donghee’s head. “There, there.”

“Get out!” Donghee slapped Taejoon’s hand away, trying not to notice him wipe his hands on his shirt. 

“Seriously, Donghee, shower.” 

The customers were starting to notice Hotae’s dark mood. He’d lived in this neighbourhood his whole life, so those who knew him saw beyond the tattoos and resting angry-face. They weren’t scared of him the way some newcomers were, so when he stopped smiling, stopped talking, stopped listening, they asked his mom what was wrong with him. When she’d asked him in turn, he didn’t have an answer. He still didn’t know how to bring up the topic of Donghee. Still didn’t know if he could handle her reacting the way Donghee thought she would. 

He’d never been good at school, and this problem—how to date Donghee without disappointing his mom—was a riddle he hadn’t been able to solve. So he’d retreated inside himself to find the answer, and didn’t have a lot of attention left for the outside world. The only time he felt comfortable was when he went on his midnight walks to the beach. The waves drowned out his anxiety and he was able to pretend Donghee was running late, but he’d come meet him eventually. 

He’d barely acknowledged his mom when she said she had some errands to run after closing, he just continued washing the dishes, running the problem over and over in his head.

Time had been acting up the past few days, moving too slow, then too fast, so it could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours before he heard the door swing open again.

“Hotae! Don’t turn off the gas yet!”

He sighed and switched the gas back on, then went to the main room to see which neighbourhood straggler his mom was going to cook for this time. She had Donghee by the wrist and was dragging him inside, mid-scolding, “…with wet hair. Are you trying to catch a cold?”

Hotae’s heart turned upside down. Donghee looked awful. Beautiful, but awful. Dark bags sagged under his eyes, his skin was pale and clammy, and his damp hair stuck to his forehead. He looked thin, too. It had only been a few days, how had it gotten this bad so fast? Hotae almost screamed. He didn’t have a plan yet. He didn’t know how to keep them both happy. But now Donghee was fading away right in front of his eyes, and something had to be done. 

“Look at this,” his mom held up a black plastic bag, “he’s buying convenience store junk instead of coming here for real food.” She clicked her tongue. “You used to tell me when you were sick. What, you think because you’re almost thirty, you don’t need to be taken care of? Sit down, you look like you’re going to keel over.” 

Donghee didn’t seem to have the energy to say no, so he just sat—collapsed, really—onto a chair. He seemed determined not to look at Hotae, so his eyes stayed on the table, and when Hotae sat down with him, his eyes closed completely. His mom had gone to the kitchen to prepare the food, the clangs and sizzling of cooking drowning out whatever they chose to say. 

But they didn’t. Donghee kept his eyes shut tight, and Hotae just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Why were they both in so much pain, when it could all go away with one simple confession? 

Donghee didn’t open his eyes until Hotae’s mom came back out with the food and placed it in front of him. She’d made a simple broth with rice and a fried egg on top, her go-to meal when one of her boys was sick. 

“Thank you, Emo.” 

They both watched him take a few bites, neither of them talking. He ate slowly, deliberately, as if he didn’t want to insult her by not enjoying the food. But Hotae saw the wince with every swallow, as if his body was rejecting it. 

This needed to stop. 

“Mom, I have something to tell you.”

Donghee’s eyes shot to him, panicked. “Go Hot–.” 

“I’m in love with Donghee.” The words hung above all of them, swelling with weight as they slowly entered their consciousness. Hotae saw his own shock reflected on his mom’s face. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. He was going to come up with a plan. He was going to find the right words. But the truth tumbled out of him like it always did; all feeling and no thought.

His mom's wide eyes slid to Donghee. “And you…”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, looking dizzy and terrified. “I didn't... I didn't do anything. I didn't make him..." his voice cracked, “I tried so hard not to.” 

"Donghee-ya, stop." His mom reached for Donghee’s shoulder, but he stood too quickly and stumbled, catching himself on the table. “Sit back down, you’re too weak to–“

“I’m sorry.” He ran outside so fast the door banged against the side of the restaurant. 

Hotae got up to follow him, but his mom put up her hand. “Stay here. I’ll go.”

“Mom… I really do love him.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Her tone was somehow both soft and reproachful.

“Not like a friend.”

“I know , son.” She clicked her tongue as he moved towards the door again. “I said stay here .” Then she was out the door, careful to close it properly. They’d wasted time, Donghee could’ve gone anywhere. What if she didn’t find him? What if he was weak and sick and alone and in pain? And it was Hotae’s fault. 

Hotae let the strength leak out of him and fell onto a chair, his head in his hands. He’d thought he was helping, but he just made things worse. 

He’d vowed to protect Donghee, and now it seemed all he ever did was hurt him.

How had Donghee let himself get to this state? He shouldn’t have listened to Taejoon, he should have stayed in the comforting cocoon of his home. Now everything was a mess. He was a mess. The salty sea air felt good in his lungs as he sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady himself so he wouldn’t fall off the pier. He wasn’t sure why his body had taken him there. He hadn’t been conscious of the direction his feet were going, he just needed to get out of that restaurant.

How could Hotae… how could he just say that? How could he say it with such conviction? Such surety? And to Emo! To the woman who’d been fearing this day would come. And now she probably thought it was Donghee’s fault. That he lured Hotae to this life, that he… his body gave out and he fell onto the hard, damp cement. The string of curses that flew out of his mouth were downright filthy. He was dizzy, in pain, queasy, and now his knee was bleeding. How much worse could this day get?

“Are you done swearing?”

Oh, fucking fuck.

Emo put her arm around his body and helped him into a sitting position on the edge of the pier, then sat down beside him, their feet dangling over the water.

“You’re not going to fall off, are you?”

He shook his head. He would force his body to stay upright out of sheer respect for her. “How did you know I’d come here?”

“We have all of our chats here.” She was right. Donghee hadn’t even realized what he’d done, but his subconscious must have guided him to the place he felt closest to her. Her eyes traveled over his body, probably assessing just how far he’d fallen into his pit of self-pity, then they stopped on his knee. “Aigoo…” she wiped the dirt from the scrape, wincing just as much as Donghee was. “Hotae will take care of this for you. You’ve done it enough times for him.” 

Tears burned through him at the sound of Hotae’s name, and Emo used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe his face, tutting. 

“Are you a kid? Why are you crying so hard?”

More tears replaced the ones she’d wiped away. “I’m sorry, Emo.”

“To me? Why?” She blinked at him as if the answer wasn’t obvious. "I’m the one who’s sorry to you."

"To me... no,” shaking his head made the world spin, “Emo, I'm–"

"If you try to apologize to me for loving my son, I’ll push you in the ocean. Don't test me."

She honestly looked like she might. Her expression was determined and kind, like it always was, with the same fire she’d passed on to Hotae. She wiped his face again, this time keeping her hands on his cheeks.

“Are you scared of me, Donghee-ya?”

“Scared? Of course not.” Fear was reserved for pain, for violence, for loud voices and disgusted looks.  

“The way you looked at me… so panicked.” She shivered and took her hands back, folding them in her lap like his mother had, like she was ashamed. “I know it’s my fault. I know I made you think…” she shook her head and took a deep breath.

Donghee was too stunned to speak. Even if he had the energy to say something, he had no idea what words could possibly come out of his mouth. In all the times he’d imagined this moment, feared it, this was not how he thought it would go.

Her hair danced in the cool wind and she pulled her sweater around her small frame. "I was scared for him. I saw the two of you, how close you were, how much he... well." She took his hand in both of hers. They were freezing. “I was sad when you left, you know that, right?” She waited until he nodded before continuing. “But I think you also know I was relieved. I thought it was just you. I didn't think he was gay ,” she whispered the word like it was a swear, “I thought he only felt that way for you, and if you were gone, he'd grow out of it. Ah, I'm so ashamed." She hung her head, still clutching his hand, as if she was holding him there to hear her confession.

"Emo..."

"Let me finish." She took a moment to steal herself, then raised her head again and met his eyes. "I was wrong. He never grew out of it, he just became stuck. He's always loved you, even before he knew he loved you. Donghee-ya, you're everything to him, and I think he's everything to you. And I took that away from you."

He couldn’t stand the apology in her eyes. "No, Emo, you gave me everything."

“Well then give me something back. I've been carrying this guilt for a long time. Take it away, hmmm?” She brought his hand to her body and hugged it. “Give him a chance. I thought his life would be easier if he wasn't gay, but I was wrong. He needs you.”

Donghee couldn’t speak. She was offering him everything he’d ever wanted. She was taking away his fear and worry, and replacing it with acceptance and love. She wasn’t just giving her permission to be with Hotae, she was begging him.

She must have seen it in his face, because she nodded as if he’d said something. “I can’t pretend I’m not scared for him the same way I’m always scared for you. This world can be cruel, and I see what it does to people who are different. It’s why I… ah,” she wiped away her tears as if they were the enemy. “I didn’t say this sooner because I feared what the world would do to you both.  But…” she gave him a warm, sad smile, “I want you to be happy. Everything else we’ll face together, won’t we?”

He nodded and fell into her, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tight. He was surprised he had any more tears in him to shed, then decided to blame it on ocean spray. 

By the time they made their way back to the restaurant, Donghee’s clothes were damp and his knee was stiff. He knew his face must be puffy and red, but judging by Hotae’s reaction, he could’ve been a zombie. 

Hotae stood outside the restaurant with his hands in his pockets, aggressively pacing, but when he saw them approaching, he ran over, horrified. 

“What happened? Why are you bleeding?” His eyes narrowed at Donghee’s face, then he turned on Emo. “Was he crying? What did you say to him?”

Emo just tutted and lightly patted his cheek. “None of your business. I’m going to heat up the food.” 

The instant the door was closed behind her, Hotae opened his mouth, perhaps to demand answers, but then his lips closed and he just took Donghee in, shaking his head. 

“How many times are you gonna run away from me? I'm starting to take it personally." 

Donghee couldn’t help but smile. How did they always get back here? No matter how far they crossed the line, no matter how hurt or angry or on fire with desire, they always seemed to get back to them . The moment was so surreal Donghee worried it might be a dream, but then Hotae sighed dramatically. 

“Say something, you’re driving me craz-” 

"Will you go on a date with me?" It was so simple. Maybe they didn’t have to be two tortured souls who’d been loving each other from afar for too long. Maybe they could just be two people who wanted to go on a date.

Hotae’s smile lit up the universe. It was so dazzling Donghee couldn’t look away. And, he realized in a moment of pure joy, he didn’t have to. 

"Yes." Hotae stepped toward him, but Donghee stepped back. 

"Go slow. Please." He knew if he dove in, he'd drown. Plus, he was just really, really hungry. For the first time in days he felt like he could eat everything Emo could cook for him and more. Which was perfect, because Emo hadn’t just warmed up what she’d made before, she’d also started on some kimchi pancakes and set out dried squid.

“Mom, it’s almost midnight,” Hotae said, getting the first aid kit from the kitchen.  

“I’m just going to finish this. Unless Donghee wants a rolled omelet?” 

Hotae shook his head. “This is already too much foo–”

“Yes please, Emo.” Donghee sat at the table and dug into the soup, laughing at Hotae’s shocked expression. “What? I haven’t eaten in three days.” 

“And whose fault was that?” Hotae sat beside him, glowing with warmth. 

“Yours,” Donghee said, just to be a shit. 

“No it wasn’t! It was yours!” 

Emo tutted again as she sat the pancakes on the table. “Stop fighting and eat.” 

The amount of times she’d said that to them over the years was immeasurable, but somehow this felt like the first time. Donghee wondered if everything moving forward would feel like the first time. He shivered as Hotae raised his pant leg to get access to the cut on his knee, then hissed as he spread disinfectant cream over it. 

"Sorry," Hotae winced with him, "I'm not as good at this as you are." 

"Hopefully neither of us will need it as often now." 

"You better not." Emo plunked a bottle of soju on the table with a mischievous grin that matched her son's. "I think we all need a little medicine tonight." 

EPILOGUE

August 4, 2021

I don’t think it’s gonna work out between us

you’re really beautiful and nice

I had fun spending time with you

I hope you find someone better than me

Yeonhwa swiped away the text she’d gotten from Go Hotae and pulled up the map on her phone, making sure the coffee shop she was standing in front of was the right one. Hotae talked about this cafe a lot, as well as his best friend who owned it. Maybe she could get some answers from him. 

The smell when she walked in almost made her forget why she was there. The smooth coffee grounds mixed with something sweet… okay, she should probably order a drink first, she didn’t want to be rude. 

The man behind the counter wasn’t much older than she was, mid-twenties at most. And he was handsome with smooth skin, a kind face, and a slight wave in his dark hair. Why was she there again…? Oh, right. 

“What’s the best drink to help someone recover after getting dumped?”

How was it possible that his empathetic frown only made him more handsome? “Whisky, but since I don’t serve that, I would say our iced chocolate latte.” 

“One of those, please.” 

She paid and then mustered up her courage as he made her drink. When he handed her the cool plastic cup, she blurted out, “You’re Donghee, aren’t you?” He looked a bit alarmed, so she rushed to explain. “I’m Yeonhwa, maybe Hotae mentioned me?”

“Ahhhhhh.” He looked around, perhaps clocking the best exit. 

“I’m not a stalker, I promise, I just want to know. We were having a good time and I thought he liked me, but then he sent this text out of nowhere and won’t respond to any of my messages.” 

Against any sense of preservation of her pride, she held up her phone and showed him the dozen or so messages she’d sent. He winced and mumbled something under his breath. 

“I know.” She sighed and dropped the phone back in her purse. “It’s unhinged.”

“No, it’s about average, to be honest.”

“Average? Does this happen a lot?”

The look on his face told her everything she needed to know. Go Hotae was a player, and she got played. He took something from the pastry case and came around the counter, placing an adorably decorated cupcake in her hand. 

“This is on the house.” 

The bell on the door jingled and Hotae walked in, his eyes widening at the sight of her. “What are you…” then his eyes shifted to Donghee and back to her, “are you threatening him?” 

Donghee rolled his eyes as Hotae crossed the shop and stood between them. “She’s holding a cupcake, you idiot, what’s she threatening me with, icing?” 

Oh. 

How could she have missed it? The way he spoke about his ‘best friend’ all the time, the dreamy look he got when he told stories about him, the way he would always run off whenever Donghee needed anything. 

“It all makes sense.” 

"What?" Hotae cocked his head. "What makes sense?” 

She set the cupcake and coffee down and reached into her bag. As soon as she did, Hotae tensed and Dongee switched positions with him, now acting as Hotae’s shield. What a pair these two were. 

“Please don’t hit him. He’s been hit enough, I promise. I’m starting to worry he has brain damage.” 

Her laughter left them both dumbstruck. “I’m not going to hit him. I just wanted to give you this.” She pulled out her business card and handed it to Donghee. “Call me if you ever want to hang out.”

“Me? Um,” he ran his hand through his hair, “thank you, but I’m gay.”

“That’s fine, I’m not asking you out.” She looked at Hotae, standing behind Donghee with his mouth open in indignation, then back to him, “I just have a feeling you’ll need a friend with similar experiences.”

She didn’t feel the need to explain further, so she gathered her drink and free treat, gave Hotae the stink-eye and Donghee a wink, then walked out.

Chapter Text

The restaurant was fancy. Hotae had specifically tried to find a place they’d never been before. He knew it was impossible to separate their friendship from their new relationship, but this was their first date, and he wanted it to be special. There were tablecloths and wine and servers with button-up shirts. He’d worn one, too, with a jacket he’d bought specifically for tonight. Donghee was dressed up, too, which had made Hotae’s stomach all tingly when he’d picked him up. He’d seen him dressed up before, but this time it was for Hotae, and that somehow made him even more beautiful than usual.  

Hotae had to keep reminding himself to be cool. Yes, he was on a real, actual date with Donghee, and yes, every single thing in his life was different now, but Donghee had asked him to go slow, and he would respect that. 

“When do you think gay marriage will be legal in Korea?” 

Donghee choked on his food and looked around the restaurant, waving off the server who had come to give him more water. 

Shit. That probably wasn’t playing it cool. “Not for us, I’m just curious. In general.” 

Donghee shot him a look that let him know he didn’t believe him, then completely ignored the question. “How’s studying going?”

“Good. The kid’s helping me, so.” A fire had been lit under him to get his GED and make Donghee proud. He’d pass that test if it was the last thing he did. 

The bread on the table was the kind that was soft in the middle and crusty on the outside. It was even still warm. Hotae didn’t go to foreign restaurants that often, so he hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but this was nice. He buttered the bread as Donghee told a story about a customer at the coffee shop, then he placed it on the little plate in front of Donghee, who stopped talking and blinked at him. 

“What are you doing?”

“Eat.” 

He looked down at the buttered bread and a smile he couldn’t seem to quash jerked the corners of his mouth. “I can butter my own bread.”

“So did the customer ever leave?”

“Ah, yes, but only after Taejoon came in and glared at him.” He took a bite of the bread and Hotae tried not to have a fit when he licked the butter from his lips. 

“Why didn’t you call me? I’m good at glaring.” 

“I know,” he gave him a warm smile, “but you were busy. It was fine, he only set us back a few… what are you doing now?” 

Hotae had unwrapped the napkin that held the silverware hostage and placed it all in front of Donghee. “What?”

Donghee let out a sigh that was trying its best to be frustrated, but was actually amused. “I’m a grown man, you know.” 

Hotae gave him what he hoped was a sultry, seductive look. “I know.”

“Yaaa,” Donghee covered his mouth to hide his laugh. “I’m still just me, being on a date doesn’t change that.”

“You were never just you .” 

Pink creeped up Donghee’s neck up to his cheeks and he looked away to hide his smile. “Is this a habit? Did you act like this on your dates with women?”

“No, I didn’t care enough.” Hotae didn’t realize the meaning behind those words until Donghee’s eyes met his and held them. It seemed like years of pining, yearning, pain and frustration were wiped away. He knew the feeling he saw in Donghee’s eyes: the realization that you’re special to someone. He’d felt it when he saw Donghee’s drawings. He’d felt it when Donghee asked him on this date. And he felt it now, seeing how touched Donghee was by his words. 

“I feel…” Hotae hesitated. He had a tendency to ruin good moments by saying something stupid, but like always, his thoughts needed an escape. “I feel like this is my first real date.” 

Donghee laughed, but not at him. There was more warmth in his laugh than an entire summer, and Hotae could bathe in its light for the rest of his life. 

The server came to bring them their food and they spent the meal talking about the restaurant, the shop, and high school memories they’d avoided simply because they were adjacent to the pain. 

“I did not have a crush on Jisu!”

“You did!” They’d left the restaurant and started walking along the beach, the sound of the waves providing rhythmic background music to their teasing. “You were always talking to him, and you said you’d go to the swimming match to watch him , not me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You. Did.” Memory was such a funny thing. How could Hotae remember the hurt of that one statement so clearly when Donghee couldn’t even remember saying it? 

“Well if I did, I was just covering up my feelings for you , pabo.” Donghee gently knocked his shoulder into his and sent Hotae flying into the atmosphere with happiness. 

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“Hadn’t what? Covered it up?” Donghee shook his head and looked up at the stars as if asking them for strength. “You think that would’ve been a good idea? You think you would have handled it well?” 

“Maybe!” No. He wouldn’t have. They both knew that. "Do you ever wonder what would've happened if you'd stayed?"

Donghee took a long breath, avoiding Hotae’s stare. "All the time. You?"

"All the time." He stopped walking and Donghee looked back at him. “I should’ve made you stay.”

“I think that’s called kidnapping.” He gave Hotae a grin and the breeze off the sea pushed his hair across his forehead. It was breathtaking. Literally. It took Hotae a few seconds to remember how to breathe.

“Here,” he slid his new jacket off and wrapped it around Donghee’s shoulders, “I can’t stand seeing you shiver.” 

Donghee smiled. “You never could.” 

Hotae soothed down the lapel of the jacket and held on to it, fighting the temptation to pull Donghee closer. The ocean breeze carried the scent of him, marred only slightly by the salt in the air. Donghee’s eyes, his beautiful, soft eyes, dropped down to Hotae’s mouth, but Hotae stepped back, the sand almost swallowing his feet as if it was reaching up to keep him in place. 

“I want you to kiss me .”

“What?” Donghee looked like he was still processing the empty space in front of him. 

“I'm always the one kissing you.”

Donghee blinked, then shook his head, shaking off the moment. “ Always? We've had one kiss.” 

“ One? ” Indignation made Hotae step back even further. Granted, their kiss in the alley wasn’t exactly a success, but their kisses in high school were etched onto Hotae’s soul. They were the kisses he judged all other kisses by. They were the kisses that still visited him in the dark and made his body ache. "Did you forget?"

Donghee let out a sigh-laugh. “Of course not, but those don’t count.” 

“Why?” 

“Because they were practice. You just wanted to be a better kisser for your girlfriends.” 

A particularly big wave lapped against the sand, the sound of it smacking against the otherwise quiet night, as if even the ocean thought Donghee was being ridiculous.

“Is that what you really think?” 

“ I want to kiss for the first time with my new girlfriend .” Donghee pointed at Hotae’s chest, like he’d been carrying around this accusation for years. “That’s what you said.”

“And I told you to stop listening to what I say!”

"So, what…” his voice was so soft Hotae could barely hear it over the waves, “you kissed me because you wanted to?"

"I'm starting to think I'm not the dumb one in this relationship."

The half-angry-half-happy grunt that came out of Donghee was the most adorable thing Hotae had ever seen. "Then why did you say that?"

"Because I was young and dumb and scared."

"Well, so was I!"

"Well, we're not young anymore, so let's stop being dumb and scared." He closed the space between them and pulled Donghee close, then leaned in to kiss him, but this time Donghee was the one to step back. "Ugggghhhh, what now?"

"You said you want me to kiss you. "

"Ah." Giddy bubbles popped in his stomach and he stood ready. "Okay, go ahead." 

Donghee laughed and shook his head. "I get to decide when, pabo."

It was just on the cusp of fall, still warm enough for dedicated surfers to brave the chilly waves, but cold enough to scare away anyone who generally needed three blankets to fall asleep. Like Donghee. He pulled Hotae’s jacket tighter around his body, trying not to be obvious about bending his head to smell the collar. It still had that in-store smell, but there was a hint of Hotae. 

“Are you still cold?”

Donghee shook his head. What more could Hotae do about it, anyway?

Hotae slid his fingers through Donghees and kept walking, his eyes forward, as if he hadn’t just set Donghee’s heart racing. “Maybe we should go inside.”

“Hmm?” They were holding hands. In public. Granted, no one was around, but still. Donghee couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of Hotae’s thumb sliding back and forth, gently massaging the back of his hand. 

“I asked if you want to go inside.”

“Ah, um, okay, but I don’t think I can do another café.” Some days he couldn’t stand the smell of coffee anymore.

"Well, actually, I want to show you something." Hotae shoved his other hand in his pocket and stood up a bit straighter. "I passed the practice test. 63 percent."

Donghee felt like he stepped through time and was looking at his teenage first love proudly showing off a swimming medal or seeking praise for doing a chore. Hotae opened his mouth to continue, but then his eyes caught on Donghee's face. "What?"

"What?"

"Why do you look all misty?"

"I don't look misty , are you crazy?" 

"Yes you d–"

"Congratulations. I’m proud of you."

Hotae's smile had the power to knock Donghee right off his feet. "Do you want to see it?"

"The test?" Donghee had zoned out as they walked, but now he saw that Hotae had led them down the beach towards the restaurant. He tried to sound incredulous, but it came out as a laugh. "Did you mean to do this?"

Hotae shrugged, smiling. Donghee didn't know what instinct he should follow now. He'd always wanted to be close to Hotae, always wanted to praise him, touch him, be soft with him. But his fear had gone in the opposite direction, telling him to be cold and mean so his feelings wouldn't be obvious. But now his feelings were obvious, so he had to remind himself he no longer needed the defensive, mean, knee-jerk instinct.

"Sly." He nudged him with his elbow. "I want to see your test, but nothing's going to happen."

"Like what?" Hotae had never been good at feigning innocence. His thoughts were always written on his face in sharpie, then highlighted in yellow. 

Donghee just shook his head and fell into step as they walked. He wasn't sure which one of them unwound their hands as they approached town. A few people nodded to them on their way towards the stairs beside the restaurant, and Donghee wondered if they could sense a change. How many times had he followed Hotae up those stairs? How many times had the people of this town seen them together? Could they see a difference now? Could they see the possibilities? Or would they just assume they were going to his apartment to read comics or watch a movie, or study, or fight, just like they always had? 

Hotae opened the door and waved Donghee inside, unable to hide his expectant pride. He'd cleaned up. Really cleaned. 

"Wow," Donghee tried his best to look scandalized, "you really planned this all out, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you mean." Hotae hid his smirk as he slipped off his shoes and went to his desk, which was really just a short table. “Here, look.” 

A big red 63 in Wonyoung’s writing was scrawled across the first page beside a smiley face. “You really passed.” 

Hotae smiled. “Now all I have to do is remember it all for the actual test.” 

“You will.” Donghee’s heart felt like it was about to explode as he set the book on the desk and took a step toward Hotae. “Congratulations, Go Hotae.” 

Hotae’s eyes locked on his as he clocked the shift in energy. He didn’t move, as if moving would scare Donghee away. Even when Donghee leaned towards him, brushing his lips against his, Hotae stood still as a statue. It wasn’t until Donghee parted Hotae’s lips with his own that Hotae let out the breath he was holding and melted into him. 

The fact that Hotae was keeping his hands chastly on Donghee’s hips made him want him even more. Funny how Hotae respecting his wish to go slow made Donghee want to go fast. But he also wanted to do this right. This was their first date, and the kiss they were sharing was exactly the kind of kiss two people should share on a first date. 

Donghee pulled away and though Hotae’s head briefly followed him like a magnet being dragged around by another magnet, he eventually blinked hard and snapped himself out of it. 

“I’ll ah,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll walk you home.” 

“I would once again like to remind you that I’m a grown man.”

“Maybe I just want to spend more time with you.”

Warm honey melted through Donghee’s veins, which was a dangerous sign that he should definitely not let Hotae walk him home. 

“Next time.” He took Hotae’s jacket off and walked to the closet to hang it up. There was some resistance when opening the door, as if there was something pushing against it, and when Donghee slid it open he found it crammed with junk. He couldn’t help but laugh as he put Hotae’s jacket away. “So this is where all the mess went.” 

Hotae flashed him a smile completely devoid of embarrassment. “I get points for trying though, right?”

“Yes, you get points for trying.” A vaguely familiar notebook sat on top of a heap of clothes. Was it a study book he’d seen Hotae using at the shop? Or one from their school days? He opened it and immediately saw his name. The pages were warped in the way paper gets after being wet, and some of the ink was smudged, the letters bleeding into each other.

I didn't know my first love was my first love until he left me. 

Footsteps crossed the room and Hotae’s hand covered the page, though he didn’t touch the book. Donghee knew he was snooping and this was obviously something Hotae didn’t want him to see, but he still didn’t close it.

“What is this?”’

It was as if Hotae was frozen, his eyes on the book, his hand hovering above it. Then he took a deep breath and dropped his hand. “The part-timer told me to write my feelings down. It’s stupid, but… I’ve been doing it for a few months.” 

Donghee cradled the book like it was breakable while Hotae looked at it like he’d ripped his heart out and placed it in Donghee’s hands, waiting to see what he’d do with it. 

“Can I…?”

Donghee nodded, his eyes glued to the book, as if looking at Donghee might make him change his mind. 

Everything about you hurts me. 

My body hurts because you're not touching it, 

my lips hurt because you're not kissing them, 

my soul hurts because you left me, 

my heart hurts because you broke it.

You said you’d stay. 

Why did you draw me, Donghee?

Why did you draw me like you loved me? 

If you weren’t going to stay?

The words started to blur and Donghee’s throat burned. 

You're the only one who can hurt me. 

And you're the only one who can make it stop. 

I’ve always loved you, Donghee.

He closed the book. He couldn’t handle any more. "I broke your heart?"

"When you left…” his eyes were still on the book in Donghee’s hands, “you broke my everything." 

He dropped the book on the table and went to Hotae, needing to touch him, as if his pain was a physical ailment he could heal. 

“How do I make it stop hurting?” 

Hotae finally met his eyes. "Love me."

"You already know I do."

"Then say it."

"I love you."

Hotae closed his eyes like he was tucking the words safely into his memory. He kept them closed as his lips found Donghee’s and his arms wrapped around him. The kiss was nothing like a first date kiss should be. It was raw emotion poured from one body to the other and back again. It was heat and love and years of longing. It was lightning and thunder and crashing waves. 

But then for the second time that night, there was only empty space in front of Donghee where Hotae should have been, and again, it felt like a jarring glitch of reality. 

“I’m sorry,” Hotae said, his breath heavy. “You want to go slow.” 

Donghee shook his head and pulled him back. “We’ve gone slow enough.” 

Hotae was lost in Donghee; the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. His hands couldn’t get enough of his skin. They dipped under his shirt to feel his stomach, his side, his back, then finally Donghee pulled the shirt off, giving Hotae free rein of his body. His hands weren’t enough to explore that freedom, he needed his mouth, too. He wrapped his arms around Donghee’s middle and lifted him until his legs wrapped around Hotae’s hips. 

Donghee laughed and smiled down at him. “Finally, I get to be taller.” 

Hotae never knew laughter could be part of intimacy. That it could be fun . He spun Donghee around, the sound of his joy filling Hotae up. 

Donghee demanded his lips again and Hotae complied, but then he trailed his kisses down his neck to his chest, over his nipple, and this time Donghee shivered for a reason that had nothing to do with the cold. Hotae carried him to the bed and gently laid him down, crawling on top of him. 

“Wait.” 

The word was like a bucket of ice thrown on him and he sat back, putting his hands up as if he was being arrested. 

“No,” Donghee smiled and took his hands in both of his, “I want to, it’s just,” he bit his lip, looking embarrassed, “it’s different with men. We can’t be as spontaneous as straight couples. There are things we need to do first, and I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t think…” 

“That’s okay.” Hotae wasn’t sure what that meant, but there were a lot of ways to love someone. “Can I just… touch you?” 

Donghee held his gaze for a moment, then sat up and kissed him again, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on Hotae’s shirt. Hotae didn’t have the patience for that, so he grabbed the back of it and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor. 

In all the times he’d imagined what it would be like to have his bare skin pressed to Donghee’s, he’d never imagined it would be this good . He couldn’t get enough, he needed more, needed to pull Donghee into him, merge their bodies and live as one person. 

Donghee was lean, but not weak, and Hotae wanted to trace every hard muscle with his fingertips. His fingers dipped under the waistband of Donghee’s pants and the soft gasp that slipped through Donghee’s lips was enough to break Hotae open. 

“Can I?”

In response, Donghee unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off, then kneeled on the bed in only his underwear. His own fingers ran down Hotae’s chest, stomach, until they reached the button of his pants and undid them. 

It was just a button. But at the same time, it was the barrier that had stood between Hotae and knowing Donghee in every way he’d ever wanted to. 

Donghee kissed down Hotae’s body as he pulled his pants off and let them fall onto the floor. Then his hand slid under Hotae’s underwear and Hotae did the same, and everything that made Hotae who he was, every atom, every cell, came alive as if for the first time. He’d been a ghost his whole life, and he was just now becoming a real person with rushing blood and a beating heart. 

Donghee kissed up Hotae’s jaw, his breath heavy in his ear as they both stroked and massaged. Hotae felt like he could melt right into him. He'd touched himself so many times thinking about Donghee, but now it was Donghee's hand, his body close, his lips on his skin. How had he gone his whole life not feeling how right it was to be so close to him? His life, his real life, was beginning in this moment.

"Promise me." He didn't know exactly what he was asking Donghee to promise. That this was real, that he'd be by his side forever, that this was the start of everything they'd dreamed of. Whatever he'd meant, Donghee didn't need clarification. Maybe he had his own wish in mind when he nodded. 

"I promise."

Donghee couldn’t stop staring at Hotae, his face half-squished by the pillow, his mouth slightly parted, his muscles slack. He’d had this view before, of course, they’d shared a room for almost a year in high school, but back then he’d always felt sneaky and guilty. Now he had permission to take in every part of him: the smoothness of his skin, the shape of his perfect lips, the strong, square set of his jaw. His arm was tucked under his pillow and his other arm lay gently over Donghee’s waist. The sheets only reached Hotae’s hips—perhaps as a gift to Donghee from the love gods as an apology for making him wait so long for this—so he could shamelessly run his eyes over his chest, his stomach, his hard muscle and soft skin. He wanted to touch him, brush his fingers over his lips or run his hands over his chest, but he didn’t want to wake him. Besides, they had time now. If he wanted to touch him tomorrow, he could. And the next day. And the day after that.

He hadn’t planned on doing anything like this so quickly, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Maybe he’d stopped himself for long enough. Maybe they didn’t need time to date before exploring the physical side of what they were now. No, not maybe. Definitely. They’d already wasted enough time. 

How was it possible they were lying in the same bed in nothing but their underwear, snuggled close, and perfectly, blissfully comfortable? How had he gotten so lucky? 

Lucky and… cold. He tried not to shiver, but despite the human furnace lying beside him, Donghee had goosebumps. Turning on the heat hadn’t been a priority when they’d come into the apartment, but now he wished they had. After a few attempts to get the blanket up his own torso without disturbing Hotae’s arm, he deemed it futile and gently slid out from under it, out of the bed. 

He made a mental note to brag to Hotae in the morning that he was able to cross the room to the closet without tripping or knocking anything over. Hotae was the graceful athletic one, so Donghee had to take these small wins where he could find them. 

The shirt he’d worn on their date was crumpled on the floor, but it wasn’t exactly sleep-wear, so he quietly opened the closet and dug into the clothes pile, pulling out the first thing he could see: a long sleeved t-shirt. It wouldn’t be much help against the cool air, but at least it would battle the goosebumps. He raised it to his face and breathed in before putting it on. He’d never been able to identify what it was exactly about Hotae’s smell that he loved so much. The shirt held a mixture of the restaurant, Hotae’s laundry detergent, his deodorant, and then something under it all that was strictly Hotae: his skin, his sweat, his essence. Donghee pulled it over his body and then brought the collar up to his nose one more time before turning to head back to the bed. 

Moonlight fell across the notebook sitting on the table, and Donghee stopped mid-step. The blue cover looked inconspicuous, as if there could be math homework inside instead of someone’s broken heart. His fingers seemed to reach for the book without his conscious direction, and he carried it back to the bed with him, clutched to his chest like a beloved teddy bear. 

He fought the urge to read it for a while, sitting up in bed, running his hands over the cover the same way he wanted to run his hands over Hotae. But he’d wanted to know every thought inside Hotae’s head for as long as he knew him, and that desire could only be held at bay for so long, so he flipped to a random page in the middle and held it up to the moonlight.

I hate snow

The day you left 

Did you know snowflakes stuck to your hair

Did you know they swirled around you

Making you look like an angel

I hate cherry blossoms

They were falling when I thought I was dying on the road

My leg hurt so much I couldn’t breathe

But all I could think of was you

Your skin your lips your voice your smile

You would have been my last thought, Donghee

I loved snow before you left me

I loved cherry blossoms

Can’t you make me love them again?

I want this hurt gone, but only if you’re the one to take it away 

You always look so cold wrapped up in your sweaters

But I’m always hot when I look at you

Let me warm you up, Donghee

Do you know what your smile does to me?

Do you know that when you laugh 

the sound fills me up so full I could rip open 

and all the joy I’ve ever felt in my whole life could come tumbling out

Do you know that making you smile 

Wipes away all the hurt 

When you smile

There is no ache

When you smile all I feel is love

And I want it to last forever

You were my first kiss

Can’t you be my last?

Do you know what it’s like to watch you through glass?

Do you know what it’s like to see how beautiful you are

And not be able to touch you

Smell you, hear you, taste you

I wish I could break the glass between us

But I know the shards would cut you

So I never will 

“Once I started I couldn’t stop.” Hotae’s voice beside him made Donghee quickly shut the book. 

“I’m sorry.” He wiped his damp face with his sleeve. “I shouldn’t have read it.”

Hotae shrugged. “I wrote it for you.”

“No,” Donghee laid back down to face him, clutching the notebook to his chest, trying to stop his throat from burning. “I think you wrote it for you.” Hotae’s eyebrows almost met in the middle. He was so cute when he was confused. “It’s like my drawings. I had to get you out of me somehow. I needed to put my feelings somewhere, so they ended up on a page.” 

Hotae’s eyes drifted to his notebook, as if he wanted his next words to be written into it instead of asked out loud. “Do you draw everyone you like?”

It was still new, being open with him, so Donghee’s first instinct was to lie, throw up a wall, hide any trace of what was happening inside of him. But Hotae had poured his soul into the notebook, the least Donghee could do was tell the truth.

“I’ve never drawn anyone but you.” 

Hotae’s smile sent lightning through Donghee’s chest. “Really? But you stopped in high school, right?”

Donghee shook his head. “I draw you all the time. I have piles of sketch pads.” 

“But I’ve been in your apartment. I would’ve seen.”

“I hide them.” He took a deep breath, knowing the significance of that statement. “I won’t hide them anymore.” 

“Promise?”

It was the second time that night Hotae had asked that of him, and Donghee realized that no matter what it was, no matter what Hotae asked him to promise, Donghee would give it to him.

“Promise.”

They stared at each other for a while longer, their eyes crinkling in laughter without words, their smiles lighting up their faces. But soon the pull of sleep started to drag them away from consciousness and their eyes began to droop. Donghee wasn’t sure if Hotae was actually asleep this time, but he had one more confession. He lowered his voice to a whisper, not knowing if he wanted Hotae to hear it or not. 

"I didn't want to leave you."

"Then why did you?" Hotae whispered back, keeping his eyes closed. So much for a secret confession.

“I just... I couldn’t be around you and not want you, so I thought if I left..."

Hotae’s eyes slowly opened. "You'd get over me?"

"No. That you'd get over me."

"Pabo."

Donghee smiled the kind of smile that couldn’t be stopped if he tried. 

“Ah, there it is,” Hotae leaned forward and softly kissed his still-smiling lips. “I love your smile. Let me see it more.”

“Then make me smile.”

Hotae nodded as if it was a solemn vow. “For the rest of my life.” He took the notebook out of Donghee’s hands and reached over him to put it on the nightstand, then pulled Donghee to him, snuggling close. “Stay?”

Donghee nodded into Hotae’s shoulder, breathing him in. “Yes. I’ll stay.”

-The End-

Thank you for reading my very first fic! I'll add to this series periodically with more of their happy ever after.