Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

WINTER

“I thought it was always just your flirty personality, but it’s different with that guy…” 

Jeonghan sobs harder, shaking his head in a plea to his husband. But there is no color anymore, those lies were the rags that soaked up such beauty. While his pathetic legs fail to bring the man to standing, there’s a whispered fascination of disbelief that Jeonghan is even trying. Does he think Joshua to be a fool?

“ …I also didn’t think I’d ever want to be without you, but now everything has changed.”

Joshua hears his own words echo back so painfully clear. Apart from the deep rooted habitual instinct begging to turn face and believe everything is a lie, that he’s wrong —to run and comfort his love— he cannot stop. 

Before that day, Joshua Hong had only ever known trust, then he found lies. Only ever knew how to return the love he’s been showered with for so much of his life, until his perfect bubble shattered. What Joshua did not know was the truth in the phrase “there’s a fine line between love and hate” , and that he’d been walking it with his eyes closed this entire time. More like there was a veil kept over his head with angelic fingers, but when it slipped he saw everything. His path vanished in seconds, leaving him aimlessly wandering until the truth finally had shown through Jeonghan’s tears. Each one fallen lit a new step for Joshua to take, and he no longer needed the line to show him where he was. Yes, that line is scorned far and gone, and Joshua didn’t know riding this dangerous hate could be so addicting.  

JANUARY 4, SUNDAY, 20:35. THE KIDS.

“Vernon, what gate is it again?” Seungknwan asks his brother, looking around the airport with eyes wide and searching. The younger one lost his thoughts to the clouds more often than usual and, by this point, it was starting to get on Seungkwan’s nerves. Usually he isn’t one to care about Vernon’s mind wonderings having been so used to it as his brother. It’s his thing and Seungkwan gets it. However, being lost in one of the busiest airports in the United State with a spaced out other half to the pair of brothers proves far from helpful. 

“Vernon, come one, help me out here!”

“Huh? O-Oh, uh…” Vernon checks the airlines app on his phone and reads out, “B55.”

“B55?” Seungkwan repeats back. Vernon nods, which seems to stress Seungkwan out even more. “They changed it again ? What the hell! That’s the third time in ten minutes! Our damn flight better not get delayed. Oh, I swear…” Seungkwan continues giving the air his piece of mind while Vernon gives into his own once more.

“Vernon, please don’t tell your brother about what’s going on. He has his first college finals to think about.”

But then finals came and went.

“Huh? You and father aren’t coming to grandma and grandpa’s?” Vernon asks his dad, Joshua, utterly confused.

His dad merely shakes his head with a withered smile. “No. We still need some time to sort things out. I’m sorry if this is disappointing to hear.”

Vernon’s heart sinks, he had never seen his dad’s aura so dim, so somber. ‘How do you work things out when you refuse to see father?’ He thinks, but Vernon sympathizes, still angry in his own way at his father’s, Jeonghan, betrayal. But, even more angry he found out the way he did. If father had listened to Vernon and told Joshua right away, what would today look like? Would this holiday season be any less galling than the dreary Vernon is forced to look past? 

Vernon and Seungkwan’s dad, Joshua, is a professor at one of the most prestigious colleges, Attacca University, so his workload is always swamped during the exam periods. Thus was Jeonghan’s excuse for holding off on revealing his affair, and a valid one at that, Vernon hates to admit. However, Joshua found out anyway…

Vernon looks from his half-packed suitcase. “Do they know? Grandma and grandpa? About what happened…”

The ounce of smile dissipates into worry and his dad lowers his clouded eyes. “No, I haven't told them yet, and I ask that you don’t, either. Vernon, I know I’m asking too much from you, but please keep this between us for a little longer.”

So, Seungkwan came home from college and the two boys left the following morning to spend the holidays with their relatives in America. The flight was long, too long, and Vernon didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved that Seungkwan wasn’t suspicious of their parents. Not even his aura wavered past the already present stress lingering from exams and whatever else is going on in that head of his.

When they arrived at their relatives, everyone swooned about how big and handsome the boys had gotten. In the absence of their parents, the adults chuckled about how the “perfect couple”, aka Jeonghan and Joshua, weren’t able to attend, joking that it was probably to take some space from their rowdy sons. So vivid, so colorful; Vernon was once curious what his relatives' aura's would look like, but now he feels completely overwhelmed by the bogus vibrancy. Seungkwan laughed along with them, too, leaving Vernon unable to put on anything more than an empty smile. In the kindest of ways, ignorance is bliss, and something Vernon yearns for deep down. When one is able to see all that he does, it’s hard to find the same comfort in the truth that lies beneath the thick layers of the unknown.

Aura… That’s the closest word Vernon could use to describe what he’s been seeing since August passed. Honestly, that’s all he thought it was; translucent clouds emitting from those around that wavers in color depending on the person’s emotions. Then, there was that time at the grocery store where he caught a glimpse into Xu Minghao’s memories… it’s happened only a handful of times since. Minghao, or Eight, as Vernon refers to him, ended up being a person Vernon could entrust this secret to. It was reassuring to be believed and not rejected when he told the man, though he told no one else including his brother, Seungkwan, or even their childhood friend, Dino. 

Vernon does not know why he can’t bring himself to tell anyone else. Perhaps he’s simply scared of rejection from the people he loves. Telling Eight, a.k.a. Xu Minghao was not so hard. He hardly knew him and already had a strange first impression of Vernon, so how far he fell in his eyes didn’t matter so much at the time. Now, Eight has become somewhat of a mentor to the young man.

Oddly enough it was Vernon’s father, Jeonghan, who ended up being the closest to finding out of such occurrences. Up until now, they have been having more fights than good times the last half of the year, and when things were starting to look up was when Vernon saw it: Memories of his father stroking another’s cheek, kissing that man’s face, warm affection fluttering in his chest for someone that wasn’t Vernon’s dad, Joshua. 

How could he?

It was betrayal like Vernon had never known. So what in hell is this deplorable source of empathy he feels for that pathetic man?!

For a split second, Vernon first hand understood what it was like in his fathers shoes, and the hurricane of misery and guilt that fills them. He understood how his father hated himself for not being enough for his family. He is. 

That he could let himself be so weak and not even try to fight when times were the toughest. We’re only human.  

That he wasn't strong enough to turn away from a man who saved his life, and probably even fell for, once.

“Noonie, I think it’s in this direction.” Vernon trails behind his brother’s bobbing heels when they finally see gate B55. Seungkwan lets out an exhale of all the pent up stress he collected this morning at the glowing sign. “Thank GOD. Look, we still have five minutes before boarding starts! Haha!” Victorious oranges flick about his aura, and Vernon smiles. 

Vernon stops and shakes the thought from his head. His parents are the love of each other’s lives, and his father screwed that up. Looking about their gate at the airport there’s hardly any empty seats, so the brothers flock over to a less crowded area whereVernon lets Seungkwan sit while he props himself against the wall, puts on his headphones, and tunes out the world. The colors around his darken with closed eyes and Vernon can finally relax.

He did this to himself, yet here I am dealing with the consequences.

He doesn’t fight off the ease of sleep crawling up his body, slowing his breath, and hushing away his thoughts. These days, sleep is an escape; the perfect surrender to close his mind off from any torment or disarray. Alleviated and transported, Vernon’s consciousness opens up to another place, time, life…

Orange bleeds into the once crystal azure skies, and he is still alone. How long has it been? It’s hard to tell what time it is when minutes and hours are as grueling as they are painful. What difference does it really make when you feel yourself fading away? The pain can go away if you just. Give. In.

The man shakes his head out of sheer will.

‘But isn’t living just a different kind of suffering?’

If Lee Chan could feel his arms and fists, they would be clenched because he will not give in. “Not the way I’m living.” He says to the trees and sky, his only company. He tries to move again, what if it works this time? No matter the excruciating pain that alights his body, how he feels so many bones further break, and skin tear with new blood, being with the ones he loves are more important than all of that.

“Uncle…!” Chan cries out, and lifts an arm. He didn’t realize his face was so cold until a hot tear slides down his temple. His uncle's hugs have always been so perfect and warm, he’s glad he got to have one earlier today before he left. “Soonyoung…” His favorite person in the entire world who’s side he’ll stay at no matter which way he needs him. Yes, plans change, but it wasn’t supposed to happen to him. “Oh, Soonyoung… love…”

00:22

“...non… ppsst! Vernon!” The younger brother cracks an eye open at the harsh whispering in his ear. “I can’t sleep. Wanna get wine drunk and watch Harry Potter with me?”

It’s hour four into their flight, and if Vernon were to hush his brother and close his eyes, he’d successfully fall back asleep to the strange dream quickly fading away. It must’ve been a sad one, Vernon thinks, because of the lingering sorrow still clutching to his chest. It reminds him of when he embarrassingly fainted at the holiday party at his brother’s campus, but that was because he wasn’t taking care of himself and now Joshua has the boy taking iron supplements.

“Harry Potter, you say?”

“Yeah, the plane has all of them and dad connected father’s card to our seats, insisting for us to get whatever we want. Isn’t that great?”

Wine actually does sound pretty good right now, maybe it’ll help shake this weird feeling, and the fact that it’ll be on his father’s, Jeonghan’s, dime sweetens the deal, as Vernon is still upset at him for too many things to count. So, Vernon reaches up, presses the flight attendant button, and the boys each have a glass of chardonnay in their hands in less than two minutes. 

02:40

Five glasses later (each), the ending credits to ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’ roll. They are nearing the seventh hour of their flight and Vernon, feeling more than buzzed, can hardly keep his eyes open, thus surrendering his bobbing head to rest on Seungkwan’s shoulder. 

Then, his brother whispers, “Vernon, you don’t really think dad and father didn’t come so they could have some alone time, do you?”

“ …No.” Vernon eventually says, and he knows Seungkwan believes him. It was a known fact that their father, Jeonghan, had to be regularly reminded by his children not to blow up their phones via private message or the family group chat when he was away from either of them for longer than a couple of hours. He’s always been a doting father who could never get enough of his beloved kids. Joshua, who loves his children just as much, is more relaxed and shows his love in other ways. With the boys being gone so frequently, of course they don’t “need more time away from them”, even in the playful, loving manner their relatives joked about.

“Do you think they could be fighting again?” Vernon doesn’t answer. “Father drove me from the dorm to home, but it was weird because he didn’t even come inside the house to drop me off.” Vernon forces a groan and buries his nose under the airplane blanket.  “All throughout break, I’ve been thinking about it. Father said he was going to see an old buddy of his, but then didn’t come home that night. And dad seemed a bit down, too.” The booze in Seungkwan’s veins elongates his words as he spews out his thoughts, “What do you think? You’ve been home this semester, have you noticed anything different over the past couple of months?”

Vernon takes a moment to gather his wits, debating what should and should be said, how vague he should be, or who’s side he should favor. “I dunno.”

Seungkwan shifts his body causing Vernon to lose his bit of support. “Will you stop saying that? It makes it seem like you’re just hiding behind those words in an attempt to keep the truth away.”

Vernon looks away from his brother and to the screen in front of him. There’s part of a map illuminating through the darkness of the plane with a small plane icon halfway across the ocean. 

“Do you know what’s going on, Noonie?”

Vernon doesn’t need to be looking at his brother to sense the ounce of fear laced in Seungkwan’s voice; suspicious dark greens melting into kind sunset-oranges and floral-pinks that is his brother’s aura. 

“Um, well…” Vernon has never been able to lie to him. Even when they fight, even when he knows Seungkwan is keeping things from him, he can never provide a complete fib. “I can’t say. I want to tell you, and you have the right to know, but…” Then again, when Seungkwan does eventually find out, he’ll probably wish he never knew like Vernon did.

Seungkwan sighs and leans back in his seat. “So, they did hush you up. It must be bad then.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all Vernon’s able to respond with. Seungkwan doesn’t say anything either, instead reaching a hand out to the screen and tapping the next Harry Potter movie. 

03:13

A little ways into the film, Vernon is disturbed once more by the unsettling waves of emotion Seungkwan’s aura protrudes. His eyes are fixed on the screen through hard, furrowed brows, but he isn’t watching the movie. Vernon hurts seeing his brother suffer, but he doesn’t know how to help him. He wishes he could soothe the troubled darkness hidden in the shadows of the floral pinks and yellows that illuminate Seungkwan’s beautiful, vibrant being. Green is a pretty color, but this particular one strives to wither and dismay his brother’s heart.

Vernon closes his eyes and allows a distant memory of happiness to fill his thoughts, then nudges his head against Seugnkwan’s. In little time, the pinks and yellows dim like warm, resting coals of a fireplace, and greens of anguish are put at bay, for now.

+++

Chapter Text

JANUARY 7. 10:53. FAVORITE.

It is not the morning sun peaking through the curtains that stirs Junhui’s sleep, nor is it his overgrown hair tickling at his cheek with every inhale. Though, it is breath; the breathing in of what has long become Jun’s favorite smell: Capturing the warmth of soft sun rays in a savory peacefulness, that is the sense Junhui breathes in and draws him out of subconsciousness.

His breath sends soft tingles to his brain, lifting him up to immediate happiness. Smell then leads to touch, and the touch of his favorite’s bare skin against his own makes him feel blessed. The silky sheets the pair lays between enhances such bliss, and Junhui softly squeezes his arms to make sure the man in them is real. Too many times had Junhui woken up from such happiness to find bed empty aside from him and his tears.

The man, his favorite, shuffles against him and Junhui then draws dainty shapes along the other’s thigh, torso, arm. To his liking, ‘favorite’ spins around to bring the pair face to face.

“Morning, Hao.” Junhui smiles at his favorite Minghao’s morning-grump pout. Minghao doesn’t return the greeting, only closes his eyes and tilts his head up for a more comfortable position on Jun’s arm. Minghao can act all he wants, but the arm wrapped snugly around Junhui’s abdomen is his tell.

Junhui curls his own head at an angle before planting several soft kisses upon his lover’s cheek  then on his forehead and earning fussy hums from Minghao. To mirror his affections onto the other side of Minghao’s face, Jun slides his hand up between them and tilts his slender chin. When Minghao finally gives into a smile, Junhui stops and looks at him, taking the vision in. Wordlessly, Minghao closes his eyes in expectancy to which Junhui happily reads and fills the gap between their lips. 

When Junhui was young and discovered that clouds wouldn’t bounce you back if you were to fall into one, he was more than a little disappointed. He could have sworn there’d be at least some kind of fluffy texture to them, not just boring water vapor. Kissing Minghao’s beautiful, pillowy lips is what Jun imagines clouds are supposed to feel like, and he loves it. Absolutely and completely in love. He gets to kiss the sun of his universe, the wish of his star, and he’ll never let him go again.

“I love you, Minghao.” 

Minghao pulls away with wide eyes, making Jun’s heart jump into a cold plunge. As badly as Junhui wants to cower under the comforter, drown himself in pillows, he holds his ground with eyes firm as his words.

In a sweet surprise, Minghao suddenly flips them over with him on top and kisses him. Junhui can feel his smile and couldn’t help the one forming across his own lips even if he wanted to.

Minghao pulls back, all his usual teasing and (sass/…) whipped clean from his face leaving radiant happiness. “I love you too, Junhui,” he lightly whispers, “more than anything.”

The lovers fold into each other, twisting and completing their unanimous pure desire. 

Not until early afternoon does the pair roll out of bed and right into the kitchen. Yes, it's Minghao’s apartment, but Junhui  insists on making him breakfast. He already knew what he wanted to make, which is why he bought some brioche bread on the way over yesterday. Now, he gets to use that soft, fluffy bread to cook the french toast recipe Mingyu taught him for the love of his life. 

Junhui fully believes that the emotion one cooks with plays a part in the dish’s outcome, so Minghao’s ceaseless caresses fluttering Junhui’s heart will surely make the food all the more delicious.

God, how fortunate he is, and will always be from here on out. Despite the immeasurable pain Junhui caused, and what felt like an eternity apart, here they stand. Minghao tells Jun they deserve such happiness together—that Junhui deserves to be just as happy as he is and cannot be without the other.

“Whatcha think’ bout?” Singsongs Minghao.

There’s a simple answer to that: “You.”

Minghao playfully jabs at Junhui’s bare side, sweetly muttering, “You’re ridiculous,” before twirling over to the bowl of blueberries and popping a few in his mouth. He’s back in seconds to feed his man some of the sweet fruit, too, but Junhui pouts when his given just a few.

“No more, babe.” Hao scolds, “We gotta save some for the french toast.”

“And where is the french toast going?”

“Uh, in our stomachs?” Minghao answers obviously.

“With…?”

“… the blueberries?”

“Exactly. So, help our dear french toast out a bit by giving your love a few more blueberries?” Minghao laughs and definitely shakes his head. “Please? Pretty please? My sweet, handsome, breath-taking, wonderful, talented, sensational—” Minghao shuts him up with another small handful, but leaves the biggest and juiciest blueberry behind in between his two fingers. When Junhui swallows the sweetness, he flips the toast in the pan then opens his mouth in wait for more.

But, Minghao provides only a smile.

It’s an uncooked side of the french toast, so it’ll take some time before the thing even threatens to burn. With that thought in mind, Jun sets the spatula aside and takes a step towards the other. Minghao lifts his chin, testing. Junhui slowly continues his advance, stoic to the way Minghao’s sharp eyes and secretive smirk plays with his insides, and he leaves less than a couple measly centimeters between them. The big, perfect blueberry is still showcased unmoving in the air and right in front of Junhui’s left cheek. He could snag it if he wanted, but first…

“Well?”

Minghao scoffs. “Do what you want.”

Junhui accepts the small challenge and lowers his head slightly before parting his lips for the bit of fruit, but doesn’t stop there. He continues on, taking in both Minghao’s pointer and middle fingers. The ball of fruit inside his mouth is twirled and sucked on by his tongue while Minghao’s fingers are drowning in the crossfire. Minghao watches intently, a nervous gulp here and there. When the fruit is spent and swallowed, Jun moves on to taking Hao’s wrist and angling himself to better clean the juice along these delicate fingers. Then, pulls off them with a slick pop before returning to the sizzling frying pan, not even bothering to acknowledge Minghao’s (adorably) bewildered face.

“J–Jun–!”

“Ah, just a moment, love.” Jun slides the sweet bread onto the stack of other french toast, turns off the burner, and makes way right back where he was a moment ago. It’s so endearing how easily Minghao has surrendered all thought and is only able to gawk at Jun doing as he pleases in the comfort of Minghao’s own home. Now, Junhui is in front of him once again—each decreasing centimeter between them adds to the promise of a kiss—until Minghao yelps at what Junhui does next.

“Oh my, up for another round already, Hao? This morning wasn’t enough?”

Embarrassed, Minghao spins around and away from Jun’s prying touch, only to get wrapped up in the tallers’ arms and pulled back into his chest.

“I-I’m not the only one…” Minghao protests, his back pressing into the front of Junhui’s body.

“No, you’re most certainly not. You know, I’m beginning to realize that I could never have enough of you.” At that, Junhui begins pressing sweet kisses along Minghao’s neck and brings that nosey hand back to where it was curious about. Junhui could memorize each and every one of Minghao’s gasps and it still wouldn’t be enough. Every smile, glance, laugh, inch of his body could never fully satisfy the overall need for this man, for every time Junhui is blessed by even just one of these things that need increases. 

Ones that he will get to in a moment because now Minghao has thrown himself away from Junhui in a panic.

“Oh, um, good afternoon you two.”

Junhui blushes out of embarrassment and brings his attention away from Minghao’s unofficial roommate and back to the food. “Morning—um—I mean, good afternoon Jeonghan.”

Minghao’s fluster is shown in more of a panic, “Hannie, sorry about that. I tell Jun ‘not in the common areas’, but he’s been in a bit of a rebellious streak recently… ah ha ha…”

Junhui nervously chuckles along with his boyfriend and washes the pan.

“It’s fine, I completely understand. There’s nothing wrong with some PDA. I’m actually quite honored. You two are always so modest out in public, it’s nice seeing you guys act like an actual couple.”

Jun pouts out his lip, “We don’t act like a couple?”

“We do.” Minghao deadpans. “Jeonghan is just a touchy, cheeky bastard—embarrassment fears him. Besides, that was a lot more than ‘some PDA’, and I knew you were home…so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I’ve been there. You of all people shouldn’t have to hold back with the one you love in your own home, Hao, after waiting for each other for so long—agh! You two are just so precious!”

Junhui stands there a bit dumbfounded. Them? ‘Precious’? Right now? Because from Jeonghan’s point of view, he’s looking at two messy haired dudes, one wearing only boxers and the other a night shirt just long enough to cover the royal gems. Junhui (bless his heart) turns to adjust himself in said boxers and decides to run into Hao’s bedroom and grab a shirt.

Anyway, Junhui’s conservative side doesn’t have to worry much longer, because Jeonghan quickly makes himself a bowl of granola and yogurt before leaving the kitchen, Minghao trailing after him.

“Jun, I’ll be right back. The bacon is in the fridge.”

“Ok.” And just like that, it’s just him and the French toast.

Not even the sizzling of bacon on a hot pan can distract Junhui’s mind from wondering what they could be talking about. He could take a couple guesses, all of which involve why Junhui dubs Jeonghan as the ‘unofficial roommate’. What else do you call it when someone comes stumbling onto your doorstep in need of a place to sleep? That was  at the end of December, and the situation seems to have no sort of progression in modern times.

Of course Junhui has no issue with Jeonghan being here, he just feels bad and sad above all things. Actually he and Jeonghan have become friends since they see each other so often, and with it Junhui is trusted with the delicate information of Jeonghan’s impossible dilemma: He had been kicked out of his home due to Jeonghan’s husband finding out about an affair.

Junhui doesn’t believe adultery should be talked about so lightly nor necessarily forgiven. Though, after hearing Jeonghan’s story, it’s hard to see anything black and white.

The man was reluctant to even speak of what happened, he didn’t even talk at all for the first few days he stayed with Minghao. When work started regulating as the holiday season passed, Minghao would ask Junhui to check on Jeonghan. Junhui did not mind and understood. Yes, Jeonghan is an adult, and most of the time Jun was on the couch watching T.V. or in the kitchen cooking, all the while Jeonghan locked himself away in the office/spare bedroom. It took time getting Jeonghan back out of his shell, only for him to retreat back into a mumbling mess of self accusations. He ‘has no right to sympathy’ , that’s what Jeonghan would claim any time Junhui or Hao asked if he wanted to talk about what happened. Minghao already knew what had happened yet still accepted him without a second thought.

Junhui reaches for the stereo to turn up the music when a favorite song of his comes into shuffle.

“No, Jun! You’ll get paint everywhere!”

Along the floor, the couple is splayed out atop a white sheet stained by paints of all colors. All day they’ve been working on a shared canvas and the result is suprisingly turning out better than Junhui could have hoped for.

Listening to his boyfriend for once. Junhui laughs and does a twist to where he leans into Minghao’s grabby hands, using the stability of his upright boyfriend so he can turn up the song with his foot. 

“Agh—Juuuunnnnn!” Minghao whines.

Junhui devilishly looks up from the other lap. “What? I thought you didn’t want me getting paint everywhere?” Minghao playfully pushes him off, causing Junhui to laugh harder.

“Not with your grubby-ass feet though!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Mmhmm! But now that I’m looking at you, we’re both pretty dirty by now. Cant send you home like this.” Minghao tuts his teeth and shakes his head disapprovingly, “Seems I'll just have to wash you up myself.”

Junhui knows that mischievous glint in the younger sir’s eye and loves it. “What if we get dirty again?”

“Then I’ll have to clean you up all over again.” Minghao rolls onto all fours and crawls over to Junhui’s lap. Junhui is one million percent on board with what is happening, but also failing to notice Minghao wetting both his palms with paint.

“Ahhh!” Junhui squeals from his pecks having just been ferociously squeezed, red hand prints left behind as evidence. “Hao!”

The mischievous boyfriend scurries away leaving Junhui to chase after him. Neither hears the soft knocks at the door, or expects the sight waiting behind when eventually noticed. Minghao still has the fun and happiness of their day all over his face, but his eyes open wide as his smile drops. 

In front of them is Yoon Jeonghan, holding less than an ounce of poise Junhui has always seen him sport with puffy, glassy eyes and a splotchy red face. His heavy winter coat buries him all the more with his fragile frame and a small yet stuffed tote bag slung over his shoulder. He takes a few choppy breaths, perhaps his few attempts of speech, before any words come out.

“M-Mingh-hao… I’m so–so–”

Minghao rushes forwards and wraps him in an embrace before Jeonghan forces the pain of another word. In a low, soothing tone, Minghao hushes the now sobbing man and guides him inside. “It’s ok, I understand. Don’t force yourself to speak. I got you…”

Junhui feels quite useless amidst the sudden intensity, but Jeonghan gratefully takes the glass of water he hands him and downs it. Junhui runs to the kitchen and refills the glass. The process repeats twice more before finds himself standing idly by, lost on how he can help. The best thing he can think of is cleaning up the paints and leaving them to their privacy. 

Spinning caps back on the small paint tubes, placing their canvas in a safe space to dry, rolling up the paint stained sheet, gathering the soaked brushes before the roll off and stain the floors… Junhui does not know how long it takes him, but all he can focus on is the muffled subs and occasional whispers coming from the other room. He’s in the kitchen cleaning and drying the last of the brushes when Minghao shuffles in. It’s quiet for a moment, Junhui guesses he can’t stay in here for very long before tending to the friend in need.

“Hao… What’s going on?”

“Joshua kicked Jeonghan out. For good, it seems.”

Junhui’s jaw drops. Apart from seeing Jeonghan in random passings when Minghao would bring Jun to Angel Café, he hadn’t seen the couple since he first met them at the Halloween party. In recent months, he has heard stories about them from Wonwoo, as he is close with Joshua, and Minghao, who is friends with Jeonghan. The couple was always described as ‘perfect’, ‘beautiful’, ‘golden’. When Junhui saw them at the halloween party, in the back of his mind he had hoped he and Minghao could radiate such an affinity one day. But that was back when they were still relearning each other’s lives and personalities after years apart.

This was the last thing he expected to hear, and quite flabbergasted about why Jeonghan would come here of all places. “W-What? Why did he get kicked out? And aren’t you two kinda still fighting right now?” These two have always had a strange friendship, Junhui thinks.

“Firstly, it was a squabble. Like I told you before, he didn’t like that his son, Vernon, considered me as a mentor and was coming to me for advice instead of him. But what I didn’t tell you was what Vernon had recently sought guidance for: He told me about how he found out his father had an affair. Vernon and Jeonghan have already been having their issues and fighting every other day but this really pushed Vernon over the edge, so he came to me. And it seems that as of a couple hours ago, Joshua found out, too.”

Absent-mindedly, Junhui looks over in the direction of where the wall separates the kitchen and living room, Jeonghan sitting on the other side. He would have never imagined that those two could even consider another in their eye by how blatantly obsessed they are with each other. It was fucking adorable. But then again, didn’t Wonwoo see something strange at the Halloween party? Junghui had completely forgotten about it until now, and it makes him able to guess who the other man could be…

“Was it Seungcheol?”

“Huh? Seungcheol?”

“Yeah. I mean, after what you told me about he and Jeonghan’s friendship and your, um, suspicions of Seunghceol’s…” Junhui fades out of respect for his boss’ discretion. As Minghao’s boyfriend, of course he told him all his thoughts on how his best friend, Choi Seungcheol, is unknowingly head over heels for Yoon Jeonghan. “And after what Wonwoo saw at the Halloween party—”

“Wait, what did Wonwoo see?”

“Uhhh… You know, how he thinks he walked in on them having a ‘moment’.”

“A moment?”

Junhui doesn’t know why he feels like he’s in trouble, but he does. “Like, their faces and bodies were super close or something, and they were hidden out in some dark corner… I dunno, ask Wonwoo.”

“Humph, I will. And no, I don’t know who Jeonghan’s ‘other man’ is but it most certainly isn’t Seungcheol.”

Junhui shrinks. He feels bad for worsening Minghao’s mood and throwing him even more off guard than he already is. When Minghao turns back from the living room, Junhui changes into his own clothes and gathers his belongings. By the time he’s done, the two must have moved into Minghao’s spare room-study, so he gently knocks on the door and waits for things to quiet before he speaks.

“Hey, um, I’m gonna go.” He softly says through the door, “Hao, I’ll see you later and Jeonghan, I’m sorry you’re going through a rough time and I hope you feel better.”

Things are better now, at least on the surface they are. Junhui is very proud of his boyfriend for showing such compassion to someone who has done the things Jeonghan has. Junhui likes Yoon Jeonghan, truly, but there’s that voice in his head whispering the word ‘cheater’ every time he sees him. 

When Minghao emerges from Jeonghan’s room, Junhui is halfway through a cup of coffee and watching the news. He helped himself to a pair of his boyfriend’s sweatpants.

Minghao flops onto the couch and lays his head on Junhui’s lap. He looks exhausted.

Junhui frowns, “No progress?”

“Nope. I’m pretty sure Joshua blocked Jeonghan’s number. Good god, marriage is impossible.”

Everything about that last sentence rings alarm bells in Junhui’s brain. “Well, yes, but, I mean, not always.”

“No. Always. Joshua and Jeonghan were the perfect couple, but look at them now. I’ve always had my doubts about marriage but this only confirms that marriage is…ugh, just the worse.”

Junhui tries his hardest to keep his voice steady, “Would you, um, ever consider marriage? Like, if it was with the right person?”

“No, I just don’t really believe in it.” 

“Oh…”

Minghao sits up and looks at his boyfriend with a quirked brow, “Would you?”

“Uh, I dunno.” Junhui chuckles nervously, “Haven’t really thought about it.” Lies. 

Minghao shrugs and makes himself comfortable back onto the others lap. 

It’s not that Junhui is even remotely ready for that step, but marriage has always been the shining pathway of ultimate love he hopes to walk down someday. Maybe even with Minghao, but now…

Uneasiness clenches like a rock in Junhui’s stomach.

“What about kids? Would you ever want any?”

Minghao chuckles, “Nah. Don’t get me wrong I love ‘em, but raising a child…? Absolutely not.”

That rock doubles in size and beats against his poor little heart. Thank god Minghao doesn’t look up at him, Junhui is terrified by how he would react to his own expression. One no doubt saddened by painful levels of dejection.

The pathway for his spiraling mind is all too inviting, nearly inevitable. 

“ …Jun? You ok?” Minghao eventually notices his boyfriend's distress and sits back up with naive wide eyes.

“I, um, am not feeling too good. I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Are you sure? You can stay here and I’ll take care of you.”

Any other day and Junhui would be all over the offer if he wasn’t fibbing. “No, it’s alright. I—I should check on my cat anyway.”

“You know you can always bring her over. The cat-back-pack I got for you still works, no?”

Junhui shuffles into Minghao’s room to retrieve his belongings and shove them in a bag. “Yeah, it does.”

“Great! Come over tomorrow if you’re feeling better and bring her! Imagine how silly and cute she’d look on your back with you on that scooter—”

“You know, not everything has to be according to how you want things, Hao.” Junhui snaps. “I doubt it’s even a little bit safe with her on my scooter!”

Minghao stops in his tracks, previously following Junhui around. “Oh. I just figured it’d be ok since there's that hard plastic bubble thing, and she’d be able to see—”

“No, that’d be fucking terrifying to a little animal. You hated riding on the back of my moter-bike, so why do you think she would like it?!”

Minghao is at a loss of words, and he remains silent as he watches Junhui zip up his bag, throw on his jacket and shoes, and then slam.

The guy just stands there completely dumbfounded. It takes an embarrassing amount of time before he realizes he’s not alone.

“Christ, Han.” Minghao gasps.

Jeonghan stands over at the kitchen area sipping on a freshly poured cup of barley tea. They share a silent conversation, Mignhao growing all the more confused as Jeonghan looks at him with perceptive pitiness.  

Minghao can’t take more than five seconds of this. “God dammit, do you know what the hell I did because I don’t?!”

Jeonghan sighs, almost too drawn out. “Oh, Hao. You silly, majestic, callow of a man.” Then, he walks off.

“ …The fuck does that mean?!”

+++

Chapter Text

JANUARY 10. 11:23. CONFESSIONS.

Growing up, Joshua Hong loved caffès. The shops were a sturdy yet comforting kind of simple sanctuary for him where he could equally indulge in delicious treats, such as coffee or pastries, while still being productive. Over the years, he worked on countless hours of school assignments, projects, studying, and personal endeavors. Cafés were also a spot he would take friends or crushes to. He and Jeonghan’s first date was at a cafe; two young tweens nervously sipping on mochas, blushing everytime they made eye contact over mountains of whip cream. The only person who Joshua knew loved cafes more than him was Jeonghan. Now, a lifetime later, Joshua has grown to despise such places. 

A despise that cruel veins bled from and blossoms another thick layer of unpleasantness for both for his husband and that damn cafe the man insisted on starting years ago. But, it’s Jeonghan, of course the business would eventually flourish. Thus the second despise resulting in Joshua even shutting Jeonghan out and running the place himself when truth be loudly told, Joshua has had enough of cafes.

It’s why anytime any of his friends suggest meeting up at a cafe, Joshua lightly suggests a different option. In this case, it’s the smoothie bar Joshua is pulling up to where he immediately sees through a window Choi Seungcheol sitting at one of the booths. Joshua isn’t nervous, but the butterflies in his stomach are dark and flutter with a particular need .

It’s what gives him the strength to step out of the car, push through the doors, and stride up to his friend with ease.

Though Joshua agreed to meet him here, Seungcheol’s eyebrows still shoot up in surprise to see him.

“Joshua!”

“Hey, Cheol. Long time no see.”

“Yes, it has been, but I’m glad to see you now. How are you these days? Your birthday recently passed, sorry I couldn’t celebrate it with you properly. Did you end up having some fun?” Joshua remembers the sad text he received from Seungcheol stating that he had to fly out of the country for business, thus missing his birthday dinner. 

Joshua smiles gently at Seungcheol’s cute, jittery voice. “Yes, my birthday was alright despite everything.”

“Despite everything?” Seungcheol repeats back. “Did something happen? You know, I’ve been pretty worried because Jeonghan hasn’t returned any of my texts, calls, voicemails…Is everything ok?”

“Not really. Our lives have gotten pretty turned upside down recently.”

Seungcheol’s eyes open wider in alarm, “Huh? What the hell happened? Turned upside down how?!”

“Well for starters, I found out Jeonghan has been cheating on me.” When Joshua says this, his voice is like calm waters in a winter lake, tranquil and cold, and it takes a moment for Seungcheol to process what Joshua just said. 

His face mirrors emotions of confusion, doubt, and confounded shock. “…What? Jeonghan  cheated?”

“Yep. He’s not only fucked, but had an entire relationship with someone behind my back.” Joshua knew what he’d say would make Seungcheol uncomfortable in multiple aspects, but that’s exactly what Joshua is striving for. Seungcheol has to know what Jeonghan did and Joshua knows it’s wrong to feel gallant by Seungcheol’s anger, but he does not care.

Seungcheol’s clenched, frustrated jaw only releases slightly for him to say, “Joshua, I’m so, so sorry this happened. What can I do to help you? I’ll do anything, Shua, I mean it. Christ, cheated? Jeonghan?! This is so fucked up…”

“It’s alright, I appreciate the support and keep your help in mind. Lord knows I should really take you up on that offer.”

“Yes, please do. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you find out? When?”

“In December, I saw them together on the security camera footage in the cafe.” Before Seungcheol could be even more mortified, Joshua clarifies, “They weren’t doing anything like that , but they didn’t have to for it to be obvious what was between them. I confronted Jeonghan and he admitted it, but insisted that the relationship had been over for years. Who knows if that’s true. But I do have a question for you: Does this make you feel any different about what you feel for Jeonghan?”

Seungcheol is taken aback. “Huh? O-Of course it does! He betrayed you! As someone who cares for you both, I can’t stand for that.”

Joshua smiles, “I agree, but I don’t think you quite understand what I’m asking. Does hearing this make you not love Jeonghan anymore; not want him anymore?”

Seungcheol freezes, and with impeccable timing, the waitress comes over to drop off two smoothies.

“I—I ordered you a, um, strawberry b-banana…” Seungcheol stammers, flustered and thrown off guard by miles. Still cute as ever.

“Thank you. Now Cheollie, I’m at the edge of my seat. Are you still in love with Jeonghan? It’s ok, you can tell me, no point in lying about it.” Joshua would admit only to himself how he is enjoying the other’s obvious discomfort. 

“But you’re his husband! And you’re my friend! I—I—Whether I have feelings for Jeonghan or not, I would never try or act on anything because of how much I care about not only the both of you individually, but what you share together! Never have I made a move on Jeonghan, I swear, and your relationship is so precious—!”

“Woah, woah, I’m not attacking you, Cheollie. You’re the last person I’m worrying about at this moment.” Joshua lets his words settle, the assurance grounding Seungcheol. “I know you, Seungcheol, and I trust you.”

“But—But…How did you find out?” Seungcheol pleas in a small voice. Joshua almost wants to scoff.

“I’m the husband, of course I know. Just as there were times when I knew Jeonghan had his eyes elsewhere, as he knows my attention has been preoccupied a bit, too. Attraction doesn’t just disappear when you put a ring on it, Seungcheol. The only thing is, I thought his was just on you; I didn’t think Jeonghan could spread himself so thin.”

Seungcheol responds to Joshua’s dark sarcasm with a frown. “Don’t you ever once think this is your fault. His actions are his responsibility and do not reflect on you.”

With distance in his eyes, Joshua looks down into his light pink smoothie, “… If only marriage was that simple, Cheol. Anyway, I’m not mad that you ever had, or have, feelings for Jeonghan. That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it atop Seungcheol’s. “I will take you up on that offer for your ‘help’. I’ve been busy with the boys—especially Seungkwan being home for the holidays—and since I kicked Jeonghan out, I haven’t had a night to myself in ages. Would it be tactless to invite myself over to your place one evening?”

There is a pause of silence shared between the two, but Joshua is patient. He waits with a charm that dusts his lips into a small smile, because they both know Seungcheol cannot say no to him. Not that there is a reason to do so.

And just like that, the CEO scoops Joshua’s hands into his own. “Of course you can come over. What about today? I’m sorry I didn’t offer sooner, but let me clarify now that you are always welcome in my home, Shua.”

Joshua’s smile fries with a fondness that beams sunlight onto those fluttering butterflies. “Oh Cheol, thank you.”

“Of course! What food would you like? And don’t be modest, my chef can cook us anything.”

Joshua chuckles to himself at the first thing that comes to mind. It’s an odd request, but one from childhood that he craves every now and then since trying it for the first time when his family visited the southern parts of the U. S. “Have you had fried chicken and waffles before?”

18:05

After the smoothie Joshua doesn’t go home, but drives to the university he works at to get in a few hours of lesson planning he doesn’t feel like dragging into his home. The CD that soundtracks his drive drones his thoughts into gentle murmurs until he sees the big gates posted over the bridge he must cross. The Attacca University campus, where Joshua Hong and Jeon Wonwoo are professors at, inhabits the entirety of a small island bordering the coastal line. The campus has more than just looming buildings or lecture halls, their buildings are painted and designed to highlight not just the designated specific subjects belonging to each building, but the vibrancy such a prosperous campus holds. There are multiple libraries, performing arts halls, even a movie theater for the viewings of whatever the film students cook up. There’s several convenience stores, cafes, bars, and an array of restaurants with cuisines from all over the world. The bus system is small and easy to use, passing through the dormitories every five minutes during the day, and the teachers have full access to a faculty dormitory whenever needed. 

Thinking back about how he and Wonwoo have used this benefit many times, Joshua wants to laugh mockingly at the worry he had felt in the past knowing how his not being home would affect Jeonghan. What a fool… Was it really all for this? 

Joshua shakes his head, abandoning the tears threatening his eyes and readjusts his blue light glasses. A fool, indeed.

He doesn’t realize the hours that have passed until there’s a glimmer in his face. Outside his office window, he finds a setting sun that paints all within its reach of embers and yellows. Joshua’s office window is no exception, despite the beauty and brightness causing him to feel a mockery against his dampen mood. Even so, he does not bring himself to look away until the glowing sphere passes through the Earth.

Then, he’s outside, and he’s back in his car driving again. The remnants of sunset glistens across the water, effortlessly fading along his ride across the bridge to where most of the radiant color is gone by the time he passes the stretch of bridge to the mainland.

Joshua doesn’t take the exit he usually would to go home, but continues on following the directions Seungcheol gave him to his home. He has never been and would feel an innocent envy whenever Jeonghan bragged about his visits to the allegedly lavish mansion, so he’s quite excited to see the place for himself.

Though he’s been living in South Korea for most of his life, this part of the city is quite foreign to him, as it is meant only for the wealthiest residents of Seoul. With JH being a successful business owner and Joshua a professor at one of the top universities in Asia, the family has done rather well for themselves. This, on the other hand, is almost ridiculous. 

There’s also the nerves piling on tenfold with each second erased between Joshua and his destination. Not at all helpful in finding his cool that seems to have slipped away five miles ago. He has so many questions, scenarios, and ‘what if’’s swirling about his aching head. 

What if SC rejects him? Then, would he be able to actually follow through if he doesn’t? His heart beats harder at just the thought. Joshua has only ever kissed one other person besides Jeonghan, apart from innocent ‘under the swirly-slide at the playground in primary school’ type of kisses. These two are the definition of ‘childhood-sweethearts’: met in middle school, dated less than a year later, went to the same high school, college… They were each other’s firsts in just about every aspect. Joshua was so hurt when Jeonghan rejected his proposal in his third college, and the fear this rejection ignited drove him to suggest a break, or pause in their relationship. It was then, while wallowing in one's sorrows, when Joshua found himself casted away to a dark hallway of a bar, caught up in a sloppy drunk kiss with a total stranger. It was awful. He tasted like a sickening mix of cheap rum, taquilla, and union rings. 

Surely Seungcheol would be better, right? He is the only other person Joshua wouldn’t mind being with after Jeonghan. But even then, the ideology is somehow broken; fractured; incomplete. That’s something Joshua will have to get over.

Joshua slows his car as he approaches a large iron gate in front of the mansion. He should have known since most of the other homes around here have a similar layout, so he types up a text to send to Seungcheol when a suddenly loud static sound hits his left ear. 

“Good (afternoon/evening sir, please state your business.”

“H–Hi, I’m here to visit Choi Seungcheol…?”

“Name?”

“Joshua Hong.”

Enough seconds of silence passes to make Joshua feel like he did something wrong, until a loud buzz sounds at the opening of the gate. As he drives in, a bundled up Seungcheol stands in front of the doors of his beautiful home.

“Hey!” Joshua merrily greats, feeling bad for Seungcheol’s politeness of standing out here in the cold. “Boy, is this not the prettiest summer day or what?”

Seungcheol’s smile is like a ray from heaven, “ Or what! Haha! Now get your scrawny ass in here, it’s cold as fuck!”

In no time at all, Joshua is snuggled on the couch next to Seungcheol and brainstorming what movie to watch.Though they are sharing the same blanket, there is a distance between the two that is too modest for Joshua’s liking.

“Have you ever seen ‘Mickey 17’ ?” Questions Joshua, and Seungcheol’s eyes brighten up.

“Ah, I totally meant to watch that movie when it was in theaters but never found time! Have you seen it? Is it good?”

Joshua nods his head, “Yeah, it’s fucking amazing. I haven’t seen it since it came out and just thought of it. You down?”

Seungcheol eagerly nods and easily finds it on a streaming service instead of having to buy it, like it was meant to be. 

The movie begins and Seungcheol stands to turn off the lights. Joshua’s heart flutters. He uses the opportunity of the other being up to scoot closer to his spot on the couch, and surrenders part of the blanket. It’s the small, slightly childish moments like Seungcheol adorably scurrying over to the couch and hopping back into his warm spot that makes Joshua laugh at the image of Seungcheol being a big, scary CEO.

A little ways into the beginning and Joshua brings his knees up to his chest in a way that catches Seunghceol’s attention.

“You cold? Here, sorry for hogging the blanket.” Seungcheol reaches over his strong arms and tucks Joshua in. It’s an easy opportunity for Joshua to inconspicuously scoot even closer to the man, their bodies just about touching. 

…Yet there guilt is, threatening to dampen a good time. Joshua frowns and pulls the blanket up to his nose, catching Seungcheol’s smell in the blanket causing his stomach to do a summersault. He wonders if Jeonghan felt this way when he was about to dance in the acts of adultery. Joshua reminds himself that this situation is completely different, because he’s not the one who delivered the final blow to what they had. So what if, at the time, Joshua was questioning his sexuality tied to monogamy, and the possibility of opening he and Jeonghan’s relationship to a polyamorous one with… Joshua peeks up at Seungcheol and watches the light from the T.V. reflecting in his big eyes. He would have never acted on such thoughts without talking about it with Jeonghan first and setting clear lines of boundaries. 

As for Seungcheol, it wasn’t just his beauty that first pulled Joshua in, though the unconventional uniqueness does make Joshua want to worship him all the more; Like a sacred, one of a kind flower the world wants to tarnish if they cannot have themselves. The drive in this man is inspiring, his skill is appalling, and his caring nature backs every decision he makes with delicate fingers.

Then, there’s the different kind of tenderness that shined through when Seungcheol would look at Jeonghan, and Joshua was convinced that the universe revolves around them, for what would a world be without? Even in the early stages of their friendship, Seungcheol has all too easily become one of Joshua’s favorite people.

Joshua chuckles to himself and his dramatic antics.

“This movie’s so funny even if it is pretty fucked up, right?” Seungcheol asks with an agreeable laugh.

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I guess my mind had wandered off.”

“To where?” Seungcheol’s question is light hearted and far from sarcasm. He really is so curious and genuine about everything.

“Honestly, I was thinking about you.”

Seungcheol laughs once more, only a bit more nervously. “Don’t be corny.”

“I’m not, I swear. I think about you a lot, you know.”

The CEO turns his attention further from the movie, shifting to lean his head on his arm with an act of false annoyance. “You tease me too much.”

“But you like it.” Joshua boldly pokes.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Oh, you do. I’m certain of it.” Joshua sits up, smiling at the sudden baffled expression on Seungcheol’s face. “You make the cutest faces sometimes, I could never get tired of that. You really are so beautiful, Seungcheol, no matter what you do. You know that?” 

“ …Me?”

Joshua leans in to where his lips hover just before Seunghceol’s ear. “Who else?” 

As he pulls back, Joshua swears Seungcheol’s head follows for a moment, but plays it off by ‘fixing his posture’. Joshua doesn’t stray far, but keeps enough distance to both fuel the tension in the air and to allow Seungcheol the chance to back away. Now, the professor revels in it and politely waits for Seungcheol to take his turn, because the guy simply staring at Joshua’s lips just isn’t enough anymore.

“Um, the… The food is going to be done soon.”

“Are you hungry?” Joshua asks, inching his body forward.

“Not really.” Answers Seungcheol, and he does the same. A mix of impatience and need glides Joshua’s hand to trace up Seungcheol’s leg before stopping mid thigh. He’s always wanted to do this, get these gorgeous thighs in his grasp, and he gives in to the urge to squeeze them and is all the more delighted by the small shudder that visibly passes through Seunghceol’s body.

Joshua shoos away Jeonghan’s radiance that appears in his mind and leans in, but his painfully beating heart strikes a little harder and sways his secretly anxious mind a bit off course.

Better to start small, he thinks, and dips his head to kiss the side of Seungcheol’s neck. The man swallows hard and— fuck — it’s the kind of statuesque neck that inspires artists. Joshua will have to spend more time here if things go well, but for now he pulls away to plant another gentle kiss somewhere a bit higher. This time, it is the soft heat of Seungcheol’s left cheek that releases the butterflies welding in his stomach, as well as the dagger straight to his heart. When Joshua moves over to the other side, Seungcheol cradles the back of his neck to hold him still. Joshua doesn’t usually get embarrassed—a blessing he is well aware of— but by the way Seungcheol is looking at him puts Joshua in a bashful state.

“Wh–What?” He asks, soft-spoken.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Joshua almost feels offended for being asked such a question, and surges himself forward like a hungry wind upon a tree’s leaves. He lands in his lap and cradles Seungcheol’s head with his hands before confessing, “I have wanted this far longer than you could have known.”

“But, what about Jeong—”

“He doesn’t matter.” The lie stings his lips, but Joshua continues studying the other. “He hurt and betrayed the both of us. What matters is if I am crazy in thinking that you might want me, too.”

With eyes as sturdy as a mountain top, Seungcheol’s slow nod is a revelation to years of uncertainty. “You…I want you…” To Joshua’s surprise, Seunghceol is the one who gives in first and captures the other’s lips.

21:26

They never did get to the chicken and waffles Joshua had requested, and Seungcheol must have some good staff because they were never interrupted, either. In the room, small gasps fill the quieter parts of the film as pleasure sends Joshua’s body in a hazy, dream-like state. 

It seems the big moments that happen in life are the ones that we fall into rather suddenly, and this is indeed a big moment. Each progression leading to here mirrors just another antic straight from the fantasies deeply locked away in Joshua’s brain. This being reality and not a silly sex-dream comes crashing down as their decisions unfold; In every pull of clothing, every exploration of touch, each moan provoked by the other then elevates Joshua further and further from his body. 

In a leap of time, Joshua’s body does not feel like his own. He merely watches himself throw his head back onto Seungcheol's shoulder, their nude bodies tethered together by the complexities of everything that nothing, not even each other, can fix. Joshua pushes back against the perfect force that is Seungcheol as the man has his way with him, and finds comfort in filling the emptiness picking away at his heart, even if it is only temporary. 

To make love and be with any other has been unthinkable to Joshua since the moment he realized how completely, foolheartedly, and ferociously in love he was with Jeonghan. He was seventeen, had already known Jeonghan since childhood, and this epiphany made him feel like the luckiest young man in this big, strange world. ‘But that’s just how first loves are’ , he was told, ‘sweet, simple puppy love’ … A lifetime ago.

Joshua comes back to the dark T.V. room, to his conscious, and wraps his legs around Seungcheol’s hips. Mind-numbing bliss begins trickling down his legs once more and tingles at his toes, and Joshua pulls Seungcheol down to swallow his gasp in a passionate kiss.

It doesn’t feel real, teetering between dream-like and disbelief, but Joshua would be damned before he stops. And if he cannot think about Jeonghan, he will think of nothing at all.

22:54

Keeping his eyes low, Joshua slides up his boxers and reaches for his pants, noticing his castaway phone further along the fuzzy, gray carpet. He flips it over and the thing turns on too brightly causing the man to squint, but he’s soon able to read the notification stating four missed calls from his son, Seungkwan.

“Shit.” Worried parent mode activates and he’s hopping around to pull up his pants as the line on his son’s end rings in wait.

“Dad…?” Fuck. Everything is wrong and up in flames.

“Kwannie? Hey! Is everything okay? What’s going on?” A loud sniffle sounds on the other end and punches Joshua right in the gut. “Hey, baby,” the father coo’s, “what’s the matter?”

“Where are you?”

Joshua tries to rid his voice of any notion of guilt and double meanings as he answers, “I’m with Seungcheol, honey. Can you tell me what’s going on? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m safe, but can you—can you please come home? I really need to talk to you. I… I can’t take this anymore.” 

Joshua whispers a few more words of assurance before pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging up. Seungcheol is still bundled in the nest of blankets they created on the carpet, and looks up at Joshua with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Seungkwan,” Joshua sighs, “he’s not doing too good. I think I need to tell him what’s been going on.”

“I’m sorry.”

Joshua walks back over and falls to his knees before crawling over Seungcheol’s body. “Don’t be. If anything, you should be saying your welcome.” Joshua tilts his chin and places a long, warm kiss on the other’s lips. “I had a great time tonight, thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it, I did too. If this were a perfect world, you’d be able to stay over.”

‘If ours were a perfect world, it wouldn’t be just us here.’ It’s what Joshua wanted to say, but he only smiles and slides a few strands of hair out of Seungcheol's face. “Next time.”

+++

Chapter Text

JANUARY 15. 14:34. TEA.

Today, they meet at a teahouse rather than a coffee shop. The seclusion was requested with the topic being sensitive, and the winter outside is quite uninviting for a peaceful walk in a park. So when Minghao is the first to arrive, he snags a table in the dimly lit corner and plays a round of Solitaire to kill time.

“Eight.”

Minghao lifts his head and smiles, patting the young man on the arm as he slides in behind the table. “Hey Vernon, how’re you these days? How was your trip to the States?”

The kid gives him a look of knowing, because the answer is as painfully clear as cracked glass. “It was fine apart from the fact that I felt like I had to lie to everyone for my dads. Speaking of, how’s my father?”

“He’s…” Hell, Minghao’s not going to sugarcoat it, “depressed. He stays in his room all day and night. Apart from that first night he stayed with me, I’ve hardly gotten out anymore than occasional words of passing by.”

“I see.” Vernon sighs and looks through the menu, ultimately deciding on a pot of the house special herbal tea, and ceremonial grade matcha for Minghao. “Eight, I have no idea what to do. My other dad is never home and always on campus, and Seungkwan hardly talks to me since we came back from our trip.”

 “Did something happen?”

Vernon leans back against the wall behind his chair and fidgets with the drawstring of his hoodie. “Yeah. He knew something’s been going on between our parents, he’s not an idiot. So, he asked me if I knew anything, and I couldn’t lie to him but it also wasn’t my place to tell him everything. He took the bit of info I gave him well, at least on the outside, but there’s something twisting inside him that I just can’t place…”

Minghao leans forward in his chair, reading the words from Vernon’s eyes. The same eyes that peeked into Minghao’s soul last summer and gathered far away fragments of memories Minghao once wished were forgotten. In those days, Vernon helped Minghao resurface and deal with the stagnant emotions shoved away so deeply, it rotted. As for Minghao, he offers any advice and guidance this brilliant kid asks of. Since then, a mentor relationship has formed that gives either of them the security having at least each other on their side. As for Minghao, he is the only one who knows about and believes the things Vernon sees.

“Let’s break it down: What’s one thing you sense when you look into your brother’s aura? Don’t think too hard, just give me a word.”

“Discombobulation.”

“Okay, that’s definitely a start. What severity do you think that word means in this sense?”

“Sometimes, very negative. And I feel a lot of anxiety coming from him, but he wont accept any of my help—the pain in his colors ignites whenever I even open my mouth. It feels like he’s hiding from me.”

“Damn…” Their conversation holds as the waitress brings over and assembles their personal teapots and cups. The slight clinks and clanks bugging at Minghao’s train of thought. “So, he knows you know things, does it maybe feel like he might be blaming you for anything?”

“Mmm… A bit, I think. But there’s more to it. Lord, I wish you could see this shit too, because they’re just so much in front of me but I’m barely able to grasp anything. Seungkwan doesn’t trust me, my dad is a shell and completely shut off but raging inside, and I haven’t seen my father in weeks—”

“Okay buddy, take a big breath.” Minghao takes Vernon’s trembling hand into his own warm steady one. He hopes to offer some kind of ease, but then with the touch comes something Minghao will never get used to. Flashes of scenes into another time— another world, it feels— that is viewed through strange gray lenses. He sees painted smiles, empty passions, and a kind of love drowned in twisted misery. There is desperation in every reach, then suffocating gasps in every hold. The man that looks back at him is a reflection of someone Minghao has never seen, and with the passing moment he is gone.

“…What was that?”

“ …So, you actually saw that?”

“How—Who—?” Minghao blinks a few times to regain his barings and sips his matcha. Glimpses like this have happened before only a handful of times, into whatever is really hot on Vernon’s mind, but never so intense and vivid like this.

“That’s another thing I want to talk about. I didn’t mean to show you that way, but that was a vision of my fathers memories when he was involved with another man.” 

The teacup on its way to Minghao’s lips pause, “That was… Jeonghan?” Vernon nods. “You told me about it back in December, but you never shared those memories with me.”

“I can’t control it, and I’m scared if I touch my dad or Seungkwan, they’d see, too. Minghao, I don’t know what to do. In those memories, I saw what he saw. Felt what he felt. For a moment, I was able to understand his heart and mind like they were my own, and it scares me. What he did was wrong and horrible, for that I never want to forgive him, but now there’s a part of me that can empathize like it was my own life.”

What a bizarre, impossible situation. “Have you talked to him? To Jeonghan?”

Vernon shakes his head. “No. I can’t even look at my father. There’s this unshakeable repulsion I can’t see past, and what makes me more angry is that I can’t tell if that is from me, or the view of himself passed on to me.”

Minghao stares into his cup, searching for words, “You said you’re scared Joshua or Seungkwan could see?” Vernon nods. “So, you haven’t touched them?”

“They are hardly around and neither am I, so I can’t say they’ve noticed. That house feels like paper, and smells fabricated. The only place in there that hasn’t changed is my room, thank god, but even that feels lonely at times since Seungkwan doesn’t come knocking anymore.”

“Do you have any friend's place where you can crash it?”

“I go to my friend Beomgyu's house a lot. He works with me at the cafe.”

Another second hand wave of guilt rides over Minghao. Through his friendship with Jeonghan, he has learned that that cafe is Jeonghan’s baby and in the years it has opened, there’s hardly been a day he hasn’t been in it. Now, in light of all this, Jeonghan has neglected the place and left it for Mingyu to manage. Even though Mingyu’s only been working there less than a year, he’s doing a stellar job, in Minghao’s humble opinion.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful and open my doors whenever you need.”

“It’s fine, I’m glad my father is with you. I didn’t want to ask, but why did you let him stay with you when you knew what he did?”

Minghao breathes a long breath, as he has wondered that very thought. “I guess it’s because I can sympathize. Love can be tricky, complicated, even painful. As someone who has been so painfully tortured by love to where you’d do anything to make it change, yes I can sympathize.”

“He told you about that other man? He was in love with him?”

“No, he hasn’t but I have my suspicions. Especially after that vision you showed me.”

Vernon refills his cup with more tea from the pot and watches the reestablished steam dance and evaporate. “What love did that to you, then?”

“You know the answer to that. It was Junhui.” 

“Oh, yeah. I take it that that was back when you two were apart?”

“Yes. When he lied and left me and went back to China, it hurt more than any pain I have ever felt in my life, and I still mean that. I tried any and everything to get over him, but nothing really worked for longer than a night. What didn’t help was knowing in the back of my mind that it wasn’t over, and that shit hurt, too. Eventually, over time, the pain does lessen and become manageable despite what we tell ourselves in the present. When we were kids, I loved Junhui with all my heart, and now he’s come back to me and I’ve fallen in love with him all over again with my entire being.”

“Wow…” Vernon gasps, “Do you think my parents love each other like that?”

“I do,” Minghao answers truthfully, “but we’re all different people who have our own demons to manage alongside this powerful emotion called ‘love’. That can be a far from easy feat for many, and for some it can be drowning. Vernon, you're a really special person with a gift that lets you see and feel more than most. You’re so kind, I think you know what you need to do. It’ll be hard and heavy, but you have questions I can only provide guesses for based on my own experiences.”

Vernon runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. Minghao can’t even begin to understand what might be running through that head of his, and what is being seen behind those eyes. 

“If I talk to Jeonghan and suggest he reaches out to you, would that be less pressure? To respond rather than form? I won’t indicate or share anything from you and I’s conversations.” Vernon ponders the idea before once more slowly nodding, even that ounce of relief on this poor kid’s face makes Minghao feel he’s at least somewhat useful. “Okay, I’ll be glad to do that over the next few days, but if you change your mind about this that’s okay. Just let me know and I got your back.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll think about what to say.”

“You’re doing great and are really strong, you know that? I’m very proud of you, Vernon.”

The boy’s eyes widen in shock and Minghao can imagine him playing back the words in his head several times before letting them sink in. Minghao means every word he says and wishes there was more he can do for him, but sometimes simply acknowledging accomplishments and endeavors can be a great relief to the person you’re trying to help. 

Vernon’s face relaxes into a much needed smile, “Thank you. I’m really glad we met, Eight.”

“Me too, buddy.”

+++

SIMULTANEOUSLY, JANUARY 15. 14:13.

“Well Wonwoo, I really stepped in it this time.”

“Oh lord, you stepped in dog shit again ?”

“That was one—two times!” Junhui looks to the ground in frustration, not just fear of being jinxed that his bad luck would make it big in scoring another one of Junhui’s nice sneakers. “What I’m talking about is my recent discovery of the fact that Minghao and I want complete different things in life.”

Wonwoo reaches for the thermos full of hot herbal tea and takes a sip before handing it over to Junhui, who gladly accepts. It’s cold as hell out here, but this park is the closest thing to ‘fresh air’ Wonwoo is gonna get here in the city before his next weekend trip to the countryside; Regular morning walks to keep the blood flowing, body moving, and lungs breathing—doctor’s orders. Like hell Junhui was going to let Wonwoo do even a single one alone.

“Different things, like what?” Wonwoo asks.

“For starters, I would like to get married someday, and Minghao is—”

“ —the anti-marriage-christ.”

Junhui rolls his eyes. “Exactly. And I also hope to have children one day.”

“Ha!”

Junhui stops in his tracks and folds his arms.

“Sorry, it was an instinct! Like, can you even picture Minghao as a father?”

“Yes, actually, I can. He’d be a great one.”

Wonwoo sighs and interlaces their arms. A small gesture of comfort, but enough to get their legs moving again and keep them a bit warmer. “Look, I know you and Minghao are still relearning about each other after being apart for so much of your adult life, but I’m not going to sugarcoat it: Minghao is one of the least domestic people I know. Now, I also understand that the relationship between friends is different than between romantic partners, because you see things that I don’t and that’s special.”

“I really do.” Sighs Junhui, he feels like such a deflated balloon that would surrender to the wind if only given the chance. “Minghao has become a really romantic person, which was completely different from when we were together in high school. I don’t mean that in a bad way, and Minghao never expressed any interest in having a family before, but we were just kids then. I thought that maybe…”

“He could have changed?”

Junhui nods. “Not changed, per say, but grown into new ideas or possibilities. You know, he buys me flowers, and prepares candle-lit dinners. He insists on massaging my feet when we’re watching T.V., and gets pouty if I even try to wash my own hair when we shower. At work we hardly see each other and he comes home much later than I do, yet he’ll still rub my back to sleep if I seem even the slightest bit stressed.”

After a long, windy pause, the only word Wonwoo manages to let out is, “Fuck.”

“I know!”

“Junhui, I would say ‘if you don’t marry him, I will’  but—”

“Dick.”

Wonwoo laughs and squeezes Junhui’s arm. “Wow, you’re actually hitting a sickly man?”

“Not funny.”

“Wait, you guys aren’t living together, right?”

Junhui shakes his head, “No. In retrospect, we haven’t really been together for that long, and I only just got settled into my own apartment since moving back here a couple months ago. Also, I don’t think he’d really have the space to fit my stuff since Jeonghan is still staying with him.”

“Oh hell, how could I have forgotten about that?” The wind shifts direction, and a few of the remaining brown leaves get swept away. Weeks turned to months since the last breeze of warmth breathed life into this slumber fauna, Junhui can’t help but feel sorry for the lingering, shriveled leaves hanging on by a thread. “How is he doing, by the way?”

Junhui doesn’t blame the coldness in Wonwoo’s voice, his loyalty to Joshua runs deep with the years of close friendship they share. “He’s not really doing too well, but he never leaves the guest room so I hardly see him.”

To that, Wonwoo merely nods. “Something’s up with Josh.”

“Like what?” Junhui doesn’t know Joshua too well and has interacted with him very few times since their first meeting at the halloween party.

“He’s acting weird and secretive, but it’s also such a difficult time for him right now so I don’t know if I’m reading into things too much.”

“Well, what was it that made you ‘quirk a curious brow’ in the first place?”

“Nothing specifically, he’s just been deflective when the topic of conversation is brought to him. One minute I’d ask him how his day is going, and the next we’re somehow halfway through an in depth conversation on various ways to cook pasta. He’s acting weird, but I just can’t pinpoint it.” 

Junhui watches the grains of dry dirt on the ground separate through his skidding feet. “I wouldn’t worry about it unless he comes to you about something specific. You’re right, he’s going through a tough time that’ll make him feel all kinds of emotions and more, he might not feel like voicing anything that has to do with those hard, confusing emotions swarming his insides.”

Wonwoo sighs, taking another sip of the tea. “You’re right. I guess I’m just being sensitive because I could really use any kind of distraction to take my mind off what is going on in my own personal life.”

“You know what the best distraction is?” Junhui smiles.

Wonwoo’s face lights up. “Food?”

“God, has it really been that long?” Junhui exacerbates, pity and shock mixing into tease.

“You know, pan fried gnocchi is drastically different from boiling—”

Junhui pushes Wonwoo off his arm in a laugh. “You’re so annoying!”

“And you’re pushing a dying old man!”

“You’re not dying.”

Wonwoo gasps and clutches his invisible purls. “But I am old?”

“Ahhh, tell me more about different gnocchi preparations?”

“Fuck you.”

Passing times interchanges with silence, and a question tickles Junhui’s tongue he always has to hold himself back from asking. It’s as plain as day, even if Wonwoo doesn’t view the topic as such. Beautiful skies don’t always promise such kind weather to follow, especially in these short, overcast days of winter. Junhui looks at Wonwoo, he’s handsome even with a tepid expression, but still it ruffles Junhui’s curiosity. “How are things with Mingyu?”

“Fine.” Wonwoo answers easily. “He’s still trying to come into the clinic for my treatments and gets all pouty when I don’t let him. It’s cute.” 

Junhui frowns, but understands. Roles reversed, he also wouldn’t want Minghao seeing himself in such pain; unable to handle the possible fatal outcome staring his lover in the face as well. 

“He always spoils me and makes me sweets when I come home though, if I can even stomach them after treatment. He’s so amazing and kind. You all are, I’m eternally grateful and love you guys so much.”

Yes, it was hard for Wonwoo to tell them about how his childhood illness relapsed and took months to find the bravery and words for this dangerous revelation, but everyone knows the true reason for such struggle. Everyone knows, but if Wonwoo smiles, so will they.  

“Wonwoo, why won’t you tell Mingyu?”

“Tell him what?”

Still, despite Junhui’s oddball mix of skittish yet poise exterior, internally he’s as dramatic and romanticly queer as the rest of them. “That you’re in love with him. When do you plan on telling him?”

Wonwoo’s stride never falters, only his serene outlook furthers to grey skies above. “I don’t.”

“ …What? Why?”

“Because I can’t.”

Why does that answer sound so easy? “What do you mean? Of course you can—”

“Junhui, you only know of Mingyu’s past, but I was there. His parents died back to back, all he had was his sister. Then, she moved to America to be with the love of her life, but even she was taken away, too. If he accepts my love like I know he will, he’d never survive later on.”

Junhui’s heart beats hard and angry, “But—But you’re getting treatment—!”

“No future is promised, especially mine. You know this.”

His voice is so easygoing, a calm, steady rhythm. Is it to spare Junhui’s feelings, or a trick of forlorn desperation? Wonwoo is hurting, and the clouds above tumble on and sweep over any color. Oh, how easily things can become complicated, when did we get to such a state?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be okay. If I do survive this, maybe I will tell him. If not, then consider it my last act of love, I guess.”

“Wonwoo, I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“Okay, then I tell him. We’ll spend these last few months together the happiest we’ve ever been, all the while my illness eats away at me until I’m gone. Mingyu loves you and Hao, but you and I both know he’d truly have nothing left. This way, when I die, I won’t be taking his heart with me.”

Junhui’s eyes burn, but he swallows back the tears and nods. “I… I’m guessing treatment isn’t as progressive as we’d hoped?” The skidding of feet along the dry dirt path is the only answer he gets. “I won’t tell him about this. Ever. Not unless you ask me to.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. Hey, Jun? Can you tell me more about you and Hao?”

Junhui smiles and nods, once more interlacing their arms together as their steps fall in cadence. Wonwoo is right, the future is out of their control, but here Junhui can focus on his little, mediocre problems in life while holding onto his dear friend as long as he can.

+++

Chapter Text

Despite heavy drapes, light cuts through

In these mourning rays, I yearn for you

With no other purpose, the days pass me by

Our ghost of ‘together’, where does it lie?

JANUARY 18. 19:56. ADRIFT.

Jeonghan further tangles himself into the bundle-mix of sheets, comforter, and fuzzy blanket. The morning has come too soon and brought another day with it. In spite of the strangeness and simplicity, this bed has become the man’s sanctuary and he’ll grasp on to anything he can right now that brings him some sort of ease. 

He is well aware of his submersion in depression, only this time he doesn’t have the purpose his family gives him to stand back up. His legs are numb, and there’s sandbags over his eyes. This heart beats only to remind him how heavy it is, and his chest would hurt much less if it were gone. What was the purpose of all those good times if mistakes scar over them, making you wonder if it was all just your imagination? To fabricate happiness into memories, then look in the mirror and see the ruined mess that’s been there along. Like a spell, everything disappeared and Jeonghan has become a hollow jar for whatever wave of emotion to pass through, wondering when he will break.

There’s a soft knock at the door, but Jeonghan’s too tired to even peek open an eye.

“Jeonghan?”

He figured it’d be Minghao, and yesterday he would at least listen to his morals and answer the man who’s letting him seek refuge in his home for free. Today is different for no other reason than its presence.

Still, despite Jeonghan’s silence, the door slowly opens and he hears the shuffling of Minghao’s house slippers approach the bed. “Hannie, I haven’t seen you in days, are you eating? I made you some lunch, a tomato grilled cheese. You should take a bite.”

Jeonghan only further buries his head in the covers.

“Come on, it’ll be good for you.” Minghao reaches under the blankets and unveils Jeonghan’s hand. “So cold… Han, I wouldn’t be a good friend if I let you carry on like this.”

“Does it really matter? You never liked me anyways.” He knows the truth in that statement has long since left.

“Then why would I let your sorry ass in when you came knocking on my door? Besides, you never liked me much, either.”

“True. I guess we’re just a couple stubborn asses, then.”

Minghao smiles and begins rubbing Jeonghan’s hand. It’s comforting, nice, and the first physical contact Jeonghan has had in quite some time. “I talked to your son yesterday.”

A stab of jealousy, and Jeonghan wordlessly rolls over to face his friend.

“Honestly, he’s not doing too good, either. I think it could be a good idea to try reaching out to him again.”

Jeonghan aches at the memory of his baby Vernon’s smile, then at the cold, terrified eyes he looked at him with that night in December. “He doesn’t want to speak to me.”

“Some time has gone by, maybe he feels a bit more secure now.”

Jeonghan wants so badly to ask, but he knows Vernon and Minghao’s conversations are none of his business. Not anymore. Besides, he already has a pretty good idea he, himself, was the topic at some point.

Minghao scots closer to sit on the bed, careful as not to stir a small animal. “I won’t lie, we did talk about you and the situation, but Vernon didn’t express what I can share with you.”

It fucking hurts. Jeonghan just wants to yell at Minghao that Vernon is his son and to find his own goddamn family to meddle into. He should go devote his whole life to the thing he loves most in the world and watch how easily it can break. “If I reach out to him, this time will he answer me?”

“I can’t say for certain, but as his father I think you should never stop. And as a kind, loving father, don’t give into hopelessness just yet. Jeonghan, can I ask you something?” Minghao takes Jeonghan’s silence as a go ahead. “What’s the story with this other man? You need to tell someone before it eats you whole.”

Jeonghan sniggers, hollow of any actual warmth. “Is this some ploy to get me into therapy?”

“Mmm, I guess that could be one purpose, but to make anything happen you first need to stand. If not that just yet, move.” Like Minghao is reading Jeonghan’s mind, he goes on. “It can be hard and overwhelming, but I will help you. Good people deserve help, and it’s ok to accept.”

“You actually think I am part of ‘good people’?”

“I think you’re a good person who can get beaten down by complexities sometimes. Anyone can have dark days, and I think you’re paying for some now.”

Jeonghan lays on his back and breathes. With his eyes, he paints recollections of far away yesterdays on this plain white ceiling, going all the way back to the beginning. 

“I used to love going on walks. For hours, I could just let myself get lost in whatever I was listening to too soundtrack the scenery my feet took me through. All the time we would go on family walks, and the boys grew up asking questions about the world around us.”

Staring up at this simple canvas, Jeonghan can lose himself.

A YESTERDAY, LOST IN YEARS.

“We need to take them to a child psychiatrist?”

“That’s what the school recommends.” Said Joshua, “They both got suspended today, Han. We can’t let things keep going this way.”

“But they’re just boys. Young boy’s can get a little rebellious some—”

“It’s not them rebelling! We should have stepped in when we first noticed them acting out. Now, Seungkwan’s being disruptive and disrespectful to authority figures, and Vernon has hit a child! They are hurting, Jeonghan, and no matter how many times we talk to them or punish them, we are not helping.” Joshua lowered his tone and moved across the table to sit closer to his husband. “Our babies don’t deserve to deal with these horrible feelings alone, and we all deserve some answers and solutions.”

Our babies… Jeonghan repeated in his head. The love in his heart is pained by a burning uneasiness. Jeonghan and Joshua knew what they were signing up for when they decided they wanted to adopt. They took classes and read the best books to prepare. Life isn’t supposed to start hard, but for them it does, and it can linger as it is a part of them forever. It has been nearly seven years since they got their boys, and Jeonghan didn’t think it was possible to love two little things so much. They are his babies whom he’ll do anything for. Love has the power to cut down fear, but the remains of such battles can easily, so covertly, stick to the blade. Everyday his love grows, and everyday he has to fight against the despair creeping in the shadows.

Jeonghan’s sigh didn’t let up even a bit of the heaviness in his body. “Okay, yes. Maybe it’s time for them to talk to someone who can give them the support we can’t.”

“Maybe,” Joshua reached to take Jeonghan’s hands in his own, “we all could use some extra support. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Jeonghan knew all the ways his husband meant this. The newly opened ‘Angle Cafe’ was far from any kind of success Jeonghan hoped for, which was taking its toll. Then, despite this current moment of sorry peace, there’s the fact that Joshua and Jeonghan had never fought so much in their lives. Now, his kids have been misbehaving like there’s no tomorrow. A perfect storm.

For the parents, each little thing seemed to tick the other person off and explode into something far bigger than that first domino. It didn’t help that it’s been over six months since they were last intimate. And after all this, Joshua for god knows why brought up the idea of them moving to America? Stupid. Foolish. They were also recommended therapy and couple’s counseling. 

“Okay. I’ll go get my laptop and we can look up—”

“Well, the university has me jumping through hoops on this new curriculum proposal, so I don’t have any time for side stuff like that for the next few weeks.”

“ ‘Side stuff’? Yeah, got it.” Jeonghan snaps, already feeling agitation bloom in his chest.

“Jeonghan—”

“I’m not complaining. Why should I when it’s your money and health insurance that’ll pay for our boy’s help?” Before Joshua could respond, Jeonghan was out the door.

When did the challenges stop feeling like something he can overcome? Why did they stack so high? Jeonghan couldn’t see anything else. Wherever he looked there was another looming pile of woes delicately swaying and ready to tumble down. 

Autumn had been rolling in gray, dreary, and bitter. Jeonghan felt every gust of wind deep in his bones as he swayed through a muted world of black and white. It seemed he had misplaced all his paints needed to color in the happiness, and he didn’t have the energy to look for them at the moment. Promises are made to do so tomorrow. 

Tomorrow… Tomorrow… An empty fallback. Before too long, Jeonghan had fallen into the blur of days tied together and forgotten.

When did I say that again? Oh well, I’ll do it tomorrow…

Jeonghan treaded up the hill and followed a familiar path out of the neighborhood. His feet knew what to do, as walks carried the purpose to ground himself and work out the knotting in his chest. Sometimes they were fifteen minutes, others spanning over multiple hours. During every one, it has become habitual for him to cross the bridge over the Han River. 

Passing from earth to water, water to earth, it’s a little thrilling when one thinks about it: what right does a structure humans make dare think it’s strong enough to defy the waters that have been flowing long before them? And will continue long after… 

Jeonghan watched the people enjoying such wonders. Families laughing, children playing, lovers fond and falling. Their happiness must be too bright to notice the overcast that paints the world gray, so Jeonghan fixes his gaze back into murky waters.

In recent years, it seemed Jeonghan had been reading more and more articles about people giving their life to the river to swallow them whole. It made Jeonghan wonder if any of those people had their own warm memories tied to their death bed. Plenty all around were having no trouble making their own, and it made him reminisce, too.

When Joshua and Jeonghan regularly walked these ways as newlyweds fresh from their honeymoon. When they would bring Seungkwan and Vernon here, each with a stroller and a smile. This is where they taught the boys how to ride bikes, and where Joshua accompanied Seungkwan on his first date with a boy from his sixth grade class (Seungkwan was far too embarrassed to allow both of his parents to chaperone, and everyone knew Jeonghan would be the most endearing handful).

What does it take for someone to make that leap, and leave behind absolutely everything?

He would never admit it, but these were the days when Yoon Jeonghan thought of nothing but death. It became a dark fascination lingering in the back of his mind, but Jeonghan knew he’d never actually exercise such a curiosity in any kind of way. Which is why it’s okay for him to stay a while on the bridge, on his route that crosses over the Han River. He stayed stationary while the rapid water flowed beneath him.

What if the bridge suddenly collapses?

Specks of light soon danced upon the surface, promising colors of sunset to accompany. 

Would I get hit on the head by something—that steel light post, maybe—and immediately die? Or just drown?

Jeonghan didn’t stir when his phone vibrated over and over again.

The water would be cold…

Messages from Joshua, no doubt.

So be it.

“What are you looking at?”

Jeonghan snapped out of his daze and his eyes lay upon a curiously standing over to the side. “Oh, nothing really. Just thinking what it would be like if we lived under water rather than on land. Then how would people commit suicide by jumping into rivers like these?” Genuinely, he was curious and has put a lot of thought into that question. “Maybe they’d unceremoniously throw themselves onto land. I hear goldfish do that sometimes.”

The guy quickly grew uncomfortable, and Jeonghan was too tired to care.

“You were really thinking about that?”

“Yep.”

“Are… Are you thinking about, um—”

“Relax, I’m not asking you to talk me down from anything.” Jeonghan stood from the little bench and strides over to the black metal railing. “The water would be much too cold. July or August would be best.”

“Oh, um, okay then. You’re really not gonna jump, right?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’m just gonna…Yeah.”

Jeonghan darkly chuckled to himself as the nervous guy ran, and he fixed his gaze back to the remaining shards of sunset scattered between water and sky. 

“Jeasus fuck, you’re a morbid one.”

Once more, the daydreamer was interrupted. “Excuse me?”

“That stuff you were saying to that kid, so dark you scared him off.”

“Well, I came here to be alone.”

“But there’s always people out over here.”

“Yes, however no one actually talks to anyone outside of who they came here with, if they came with anyone at all.”

“Maybe for introverts.”

“So I take it you’re an extrovert, then?”

“Not at all.”

An exacerbated Jeonghan wiped his head around and found his heart caught in his throat. At the other end of his glare was indeed the bothersome man, but who in turn possessed a kind of intensity that made Jeonghan get tunnel vision. Dead in the eye he stared, temporarily trapping Jeonghan and his thoughts. And he’s fucking beautiful.

“Why’d you come up to me then?” Jeonghan finally asked, though quite breathlessly.

“I’ve noticed you. You see that up there?” Jeonghan followed the man’s pointed finger up to a building on the other side of the water. “Fourth floor. That’s my patio, and I’ve seen you come here a lot, just staring at the river for so long. I always wondered what you were thinking about. Finally, I built up the courage to come over here and talk to you, but I caught the end of your conversation with that guy and I guess my curiosities have been morbidly answered.”

“You’ve been watching me?” Jeonghan knew he should have felt at least somewhat creeped out, but he didn’t.

“Um, not intently, no. I’m just a man who likes to enjoy the view I’m paying for, but it’s a bit hard when all I see is you.”

After what felt like days, Jeonghan cracked a smile before he could shamelessly turn around to hide it.

“Fuck, that was cheesy.” The man humorously admitted, “But, I think I deserve a reward for getting a gorgeous man like yourself to smile.”

“Careful, I’m also a married man.” For the first time, those words tasted sour in Jeonghan’s mouth.

“And I’m a loose moral stockbroker. I’ll go first: My name is Chae Hyungwon, and I swear I’ve never been this forward in my life.”

“Yoong Jeonghan, trophy husband to an esteemed professor, and I most definitely do not believe you.”

“A trophy indeed…” Jeonghan’s body heated up as Hyungwon looked him up and down. “I guess we’ll have to get to know each other a bit more, then…”

PRESENT DAY. 

Minghao shuffles over to grab another handful of chips. “So, did you guys…?”

“No, not then. He made a move, but I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t want to. Instead, we became walking buddies, but I never mentioned him to Joshua. Over those next few weeks, the walks I had with Hyungwon became my lifeline. We told each other everything… Even the dark thoughts in my head I couldn’t tell Josh.” Jeonghan reads the pity in Minghao’s eyes, when a friend knows your decision was as wrong as it was sad. If this was a couple of years ago, maybe Jeonghan would have some kind of stubborn fire in him to defend himself. Doing so today would just be moving around cold coal.

“I know I probably sound like a bored housewife, but—”

“No.” Snaps Minghao, “Don’t jump to conclusions, I am not judging a person in pain. Jeonghan, those difficult thoughts, that agonizing spiraling, they’re not healthy nor are they something to be ashamed of. Anyone can be affected, ‘bored housewife’ or otherwise. If you try to face it alone, it can reach far into your core and rot you out.” Minghao outstretches his arms for Jeonghan, and he succumbs. 

“Everything just felt so incredibly hard, so immeasurably heavy… And now, it’s all coming back.” Jeonghan sniffles back the brimming tears, “I was desperate for anything that could help me forget that feeling. We would walk along the river together and I didn’t feel so lost anymore. Then when it became too cold, we’d make sure we had hot chocolate or port in our hands. Everyday we would walk, and everyday things got worse and worse at home. In December of that year, Josh and I had a really big fight, and that was when I thought it all would end…”

Everything hurt in a way the numbness couldn’t reach anymore. Everything in his world was overflowing, pooling into each other and filling him up past the brim of sanity. That fight was the breaking point and Jeonghan just couldn’t keep up anymore.

As he followed his feet to the riverbank, he could barely see a thing around him. The forecasted blizzard had long since come and winter’s cold air cruelly scraped at Jeonghan’s tear stained cheeks. No coherent thought could push through the rage spiraling and filling his head with fuzzy nothings, all he could do was run.

It wasn’t long before he reached the bridge, when he latched onto a lamp pole that stopped his restless feet and forced his burning lungs to take in what they lacked. Except it hurt so bad, breathing this storm was like breathing in poison. Step by step, Jeonghan beat against the icy winds until he was secured once more by his grasp onto the bridge’s railing.

Through white howling winds, he could see the water, and boy was it rushing. Jeonghan gripped the railing until his knuckles threatened to burst, clenched his teeth until a ringing warned his ears, and then screamed. 

He led his life to this point. He knew pain waited for him at the end of the road, yet he drove like a fool. To live is to suffer, to love is to endure that suffering together, and Jeonghan loved Joshua so fucking much he wanted squeeze every inch of life out of him. With him, this wasn’t enduring; right now, this wasn’t even sharing. 

Where did that teen basked in immeasurable puppy-love go? All his life, Jeonghan knew Joshua, so what is life without him?

In another deep, painful breath, he released cursed devotees of love in a scream to the wilding storm.

“I loved you! I loved you you fucking bastard, and we took everything from each other!” Everything… My whole world… It hurt so impossibly bad, his ten-ton heart betrayed him and was on the brink of bursting. “You hollowed me out, I’m nearly dead and gone…”

Oh, how the wind was so coercing, and the promise of gravity inviting. The water was all Jeonghan could see in this storm, a dark beacon of escape…

He didn’t process his name being yelled until the sky was above him and his back hit the bridge's planks with a thud.

How did I get here? Jeonghan asked himself, but there’s someone cowering over him. “Hyungwon.” Jeonghan’s voice was still trapped in a daze, but the feel of his friend’s warm cheek on his frostbit hand helped. 

“What the hell were you doing, Jeonghan?! Just what in god’s name were you leaning over that railing for?!” 

When Jeonghan didn’t answer, not that there was even a thought circulating around his head, Hyungwon slapped him. “One strong wind and you would’ve been gone! Do you know what that means?! Fuck, and you’re hardly wearing a jacket, either… Oh, Jeonghan,” Slowly, Jeonghan began to feel small bits of something burning falling onto his cheeks and realized Hyungwon was crying. “What happened?” He whispered, and cupped both of Jeonghan’s cheeks.

At that moment, Jeonghan wasn’t in a blizzard nor was he alone, and the tantalizing black hole of ‘everything’ evaporated from his worries. He saw nothing else but those eyes, for they held all the warmth needed to wrap Jeonghan up and keep him safe. 

With newfound strength, Jeonghan lifted his own arms and traced over Hyungwon’s dreamlike face, “Hyungwon…” He couldn’t hear the gushing water below him anymore, and when their lips came together he tasted prospects of tomorrow.

Over the bridge and past the river, their kiss melted through time and into Hyungwon’s apartment. Through heavy breaths they fell into each other’s wants and needs, made quick work of pulling at each other's clothes until there was nothing left between them. Jenoghan didn’t realize he was still shivering—either from desire, cold, or both— until Hyungwon’s bare body laid onto his. His lips were of the gods that kissed away any thought, worry, or fear, and Jeonghan was a gluttonous dog in enjoying it.

“When I woke up the next morning, I knew what I did was wrong.” Jeonghan whispers into Minghao’s chest, “But, it also meant another day had come for me, and that maybe I will be okay by the end of it.”

“Real quick, but I have to ask: With you kicking Joshua out and you gone, who ended up watching the boys?”

“Things were pretty tense leading up to that day and we arranged a sleepover for them with Chan so we could have it out. They ended up staying at Wonwoo’s for the weekend.”

“I see.” In Minghao’s hold, Jeonghan can feel the apprehension. “Meanwhile, you fucked your troubles away with your man mistress? Your man-stress? Hot.”

Mood ruined, Jeonghan sits right up and reaches for his water. “You’re a dick.”

“That isn’t news.”

“It wasn’t like that, though. Joshua and I made things work— we went to couples counseling and did the exercises. It helped a lot and worked really well for him.”

“Well, how long did it work for you before you had to see Hyungwon again?”

It was the kind of question Jeonghan never asked himself because he already knew the answer. “A couple of weeks.” It was just too easy: The fix he needed no matter how provisional was just on the other side of the river. “But, if it meant getting through another day— finally having some life in me for my kids and family…” 

In a heavy sigh, Minghao takes Jeonghan’s hands in his own once more, and he waits until Jeonghan finds the strength to look at him. “Jeonghan, I have truly come to adore you, but sex is not a healthy coping mechanism. Take the word of a recovering hypocrite to that statement.” 

He knew this, but the security of denial was the only thing that kept Jeonghan together, and it mixed well with stubbornness.

“Yeah, I’m learning that now.” Not just with Hyungwon, but Joshua, too. “Seungkwan’s birthday was two days ago. He didn’t respond to my text. Minghao, what would you do if you were me?”

“Honestly? I have no fucking idea. Talking and communicating doesn’t seem to be a bad start, though.”

“I don’t know how to reach Joshua.”

“Well, let’s think of him as the final boss. He’s upset and hurting, no doubt about that, and when you two speak next—not if, when— he will come at you’d want to have as much progression as possible to rely on; to say that you are changing for your family and yourself. Get your ducks in order, Jeonghan.”

A good plan, simple and effective, but where to start is the big kicker. Once Jeonghan figures that out, maybe he’ll have a shot at the happiness and love he lost.

The bloom of determination sprouts in his chest. “Okay, yes, I’ll do that. No matter what, I’m going to get back my family.”

Later that night is when it hits him on where to start, when Jeonghan lets another call from Seungcheol go unanswered.

Anything… I will do anything…

+++

Chapter Text

What a beautiful sight, basked in happiness and light. A shining smile from the one you love most creates immeasurable bliss, and seeing this sweet little creature—the personification of love and hope— smiling up at Junhui is the greatest moment in the new father’s life. 

Was the greatest moment… Would be the greatest… Then, his alarm clock goes off.

With a golden, fiery heart pumped up by a heavy dose of baby-fever, Junhui hops out of bed and begins his day.

JANUARY 23. 9:00. DISCUSSION.

He clocks into work right on the hour of nine, drops off his stuff at his desk, and immediately heads to his supervisor's office.

“Is Mr. Xu available to discuss something for a moment?” He asks the assistant in a professional voice. The only ones who know about he and Minghao’s relationship apart from themselves are Seungcheol, Woozi, and HR (company policy, Seungcheol made them). A small nod from Hao’s assistant gives him the go ahead to softly knock.

“Come in.”

When Junhui opens the door, Minghao’s stern, workerbee face melts to adoration, hopefully it will still be there for him by the end of the day. Minghao waits for Junhui to close the door before standing and circling around his desk with a wanting arm Jun easily wraps into. “Hey, baby, good morning.”

Just about any kiss Minghao gives eases Junhui’s heart, but because of that very fact, today it makes him more nervous. Junhui is the first to pull away, “Hao, do you have any plans for lunch today?”

“No. Woozi and Cheol are gonna be in meetings so I’m a free agent. Why? You wanna eat with your loving boyfriend?”

Junhui can’t help but giggle at the coy eyebrow raise, “Yes, there’s something I wanna talk with you about.”

“Oh? I wonder if it’s the same thing I wanna talk with you about.” Minghao sings songs, but Junhui doubts it.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Of course I am.” Then, Minghao leans in and whispers, “Last  night, I had the hottest wet dream, and I’m lookin’ at my muse,” before nibbling at his ear. Blood immediately rushes to two places in Junhui’s body, his head and somewhere else, and an involuntary moan escapes when Minghao grabs his ass. “Want me to tell you about it?”

“I—I’m about to have a meeting with my group, don’t get me hard.”

Chuckling, Minghao guides Jun’s hips away to make space. “Fine. But I’m fucking you today no matter what.” Junhui’s jaw drops and before he can say anything, Minghao spins him around and slaps his ass. “See you at lunch.”

It takes a while before the calm front Junhui puts on helps pull him back to reality and away from Minghao’s undeniable promise, but a few embarrassing callouts from his team leader (really, it was more so teasing) ultimately did the job. Over the next few hours, time was given to ‘work-mode’ which made noon stricken clock feel all the more rewarding. 

“Jun, wanna go down to the cafeteria?”

“Thanks, but I brought my own lunch so I can work on a few things here. You guys can go on without me.”

With an easy shrug, Junhui’s work friends make way out of the office, and Junhui nearly jumps out of his seat when the last one is gone.

  Hao is in a great mood, maybe he’ll actually be open to talking about it…!

Like usual, __ gives him the go ahead and Junhui has to force his feet to not take off in an eager sprint. In Minghao’s office, afternoon light peers in so beautifully with a view Junhui knows was worked extra hard for. Everytime he walks in and is immediately distracted by the sight, this time being no different because it takes him a second too late to realize there is no Minghao in his office.

“Hao?” Huh? The kid didn’t say Hao was out…  

Junhui takes a couple steps in when in the small corner the sofa wraps into, out jumps his boyfriend in such a surprise, Junhui screams.

“Minghao!”

“Hahaha! I got you good, didn't I?”

Fucking christ, is this the greatest day in this guy’s life or something? However, Junhui can’t deny it’s a beautiful look on him, and lets himself be scooped up into Minghao’s embrace with kisses soon to follow. 

It doesn’t take long for Junhui to realize actual food isn’t on the schedule for the couple. Frankly, the closed blinds of his office backs up that sultry promise of late. In accordance with Minghao's agenda, he knows exactly where to kiss, what parts to slyly caress, the kind of pressure to provide that gets Junhui going all too easily…Each minute passing and the ‘simple man’ in him urges into the intensifying desire. 

Making beautiful work on his neck, Minghao slides his hand down Junhui’s pants and earns a delicious moan of gratitude. This is the turning point: Junhui either speaks now or surrenders to his inundating desires, where it will then take several more agonizing weeks until he builds up the courage needed to speak again.

“God, you smell so good—taste so good. Did you shower this morning?”

But that voice, Junhui internally whines, his chest tightening. “I—I did.”

“Good.” In a swift motion, Minghao turns Junhui around to face the wall and drops to the ground, bringing his pants and briefs with him. What comes next sends Junhui grasping for anything solid and try to muffle his moans with his fist. That goddamn tongue takes away any thought of reason, all the guy can do is surrender as a hopeless case he is and melt into the tight grip around his hips.

Some time deliciously passes by before Minghao feels satisfied and he heads over to the couch, Being sure to rid his own lower half of anything on the way. There follows a blissfully dazed Junhui who finds home on his lap while Minghao unbuttons the rest of Jun’s shirt before providing more bountiful kisses all over Jun’s chest. 

Minghao magnetizes his lips to Junhui’s left peck. “I take care of you.”

“You do.” Junhui agrees breathlessly, burning in pleasure.

“How good?”

Minghao turns his attention to the right one and Junhui moans. “So fucking good.”

“And you love me?”

“So fucking much.”

“Move in with me.”

Junhui stops his rolling hips and meets Minghao’s nervous eyes. So, this is what he wanted to ask? It’s a big step in a relationship, moving in together, and Minghao is ready to take that step? Therefore, maybe soon, he will be ready to discuss possibilities of what a future together could hold? Junhui smiles and slowly brings his lips to the other, the lingering taste of himself still on Minghao’s tongue. When he pulls back, Minghao looks even more adorably anxious, and Junhui laughs, “I’d love to move in with you.”

+++

JANUARY 28. 11:02.

“Soooooo, yeah! That’s the story! By the end of next week, I’ll be moving into Hao’s place and renting my apartment out to grad students until my lease is up.”

Wonwoo’s sour face is still recovering from all of Junhui’s gory details, the only words he’s able to manage being, “How romantic.” 

“God, you really need to get some.” 

“And you sex fiends need to stop telling me that.”

Junhui scoffs, “So sensitive. Did your hymen grow back or something? Forty year old virgin.”

“Hey! We’re the same age!”

“Yes, and mentally I am forty.” Junhui responds a bit too proudly.

“Physically, you’re still thirty-three.”

“And this year we’re turning thirty-four.”

“I thought dancers only knew how to count up to eight?”

“Isn’t there some student out there trying to fuck you for a passing grade?”

Wonwoo shakes his head and laughs, smacking Junhui’s arm. “Fuck you.”

“Sorry, but I’m still a bit worn out from this morning.”

“Gross. And to think you were surprised that Minghao asked you to move in with him. You guys basically live together already. Do you know if there’s any progress with Jeonghan’s situation?”

“Mmm, a bit. Hao tells me his son, Vernon, agreed to speak with him, but then his other kid, Seungkwan, also found out and now he’s freaking out about it and kinda flew off the rails.”

Wonwoo lets out a low, sorry whistle. “Damn. And Minghao’s in the middle of that? Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise you chickened out on the whole ‘do you want a family’ talk with Hao. Both Joshua and Jeonghan wanted kids more than anything, but a storm can still strike at any time.” In a moment, Wonwoo looks over to his friend and apologetically shakes his head, “I didn’t mean it like that— that wouldn’t happen to you, or anything—!”

“It’s fine, I know what you mean. ” Junhui sighs and rests his chin on his hand, “It’s true. We all thought Josh’s family was perfect, but look where they are. Any kind of relationship takes work, and a family is a whole other ball game. It doesn’t work for everyone and that’s okay, I just know for me, no matter what happens, it’d be worth it. I remember Jeonghan telling me once a long time ago some of the reasons why he and Josh wanted to adopt, and it only solidified my stance on wanting kids. Then, the morning Minghao asked me to move in with him, I had this dream of being a father and holding my baby… I just can’t shake that feeling, and I don’t want to. I only hope Minghao will be by my side when it does happen.”

Junhui can feel in the air Wonwoo wanting to ask the big ‘what if’, but the question is never voiced, not today at least, and to that Junhui is thankful. Instead, another voice booms through the waiting room.

“Jeon Wonwoo.”

Though Wonwoo’s hand doesn’t tremble anymore, his sweaty palms are his tell. “You’re going to do great,” Junhui squeezes, “and afterwards we’re meeting Chan at that ice cream parlor.”

Wonwoo forces a smile as he nods, and Junhui knows he will be reciting those very words over and over until this grueling hour is up. As he waits, Junhui starts some C-drama to distract himself from imagining the kind of misery Wonwoo has to regularly walk into. It doesn’t work.

+++

FEBRUARY 1. ONLOOKER.

Life is muddled by the complexities of everyone’s own little worlds, yet worlds that are too consuming to see any others. If that intimate line between us all were to be crossed, would our world grow bigger, or would we feel smaller?

Here, Vernon’s lethargic body is found slumped along the cafe counter top he works at, mind adrift at a not so busy hour of the day. He has become a bit better at controlling the oddities he sees—it’s so exhausting taking in every single person he comes across’ aura’s—allowing the colors to intensify or dim at near-will. Sometimes, he is able to put up a sort of energetic wall between him and those he comes into physical contact with so he doesn’t catch any sort of unwanted visions, because that has been happening since his ‘tea time’ with Eight. It’s not all the time, but common enough to cause a hindrance. It’s as if sharing that vision opened a door that had a bum lock. 

For example, just the other day when he and his buddy-coworker Beomgyu were behind the espresso bar, Beomgyu passed Vernon the pitcher to froth oat milk and their fingers touched. This, unfortunately, solicited a rather unfavorable vision of Beomgyu banging on some window of a church, locked out of a wedding ceremony that’s happening to someone he’s in love with—a nightmare that must be haunting him, Vernon presumes. Poor guy. His heart was truly breaking, but one look at that mischievous grin and Vernon knows his buddy is alright. Just a nightmare.

Vernon sits up when one of the interim bosses strides in. He wears a smile, but his heart is coated in a thick melancholic indigo. It’s a sight he has become quite familiar with in his own dad, colors restless and torn, though with different motives.

“Afternoon, Mingyu!” 

Vernon turns around at the all too eager-beaver Beomgyu sticking his head out of the back kitchen area with hearts in his eyes. Mingyu nervously waves at the boy, and makes not even eye contact with Vernon.

“Desperate much?” He says to the practically floating Beomgyu, soft and vibrant clouds of pink and red whisping around. “Seriously, you gotta get over him. He’s, like, twice our age.”

“Yeah, and you know I don’t mind age gaps.”

Vernon deadpans. “Didn’t a cute guy ask you out just the other day?”

“Maybe, but the only guy I wanna date is my other Gyu.” 

Barf. “Okay, then date a girl .”

“But the only women I date are ‘mommy’s, and the only mommy I am remotely interested in right now is Kai’s new boss.”

Vernon has to literally stop himself from physically revolting. “Huh?! P—Park Seonghwa is a dude!”

“But, he is Mother. Everyone knows that.” What’s amazing is that not even an embarrassed sort of pink or bashful yellow wavered his ridiculous love drunk aura. “Really, Noonie, get with the program.”

What a simple man. “I’m not having this conversation with you. You’re the lamest bisexual ever.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants.” Swoons Beomgyu. Not having anything else to do, he follows as Vernon walks away, at least to some other part of the cafe. There’s always dishes to be done, so Vernon washes then hands them one by one to Beomgyu for him to throw in the dishwasher for sanatizing.The whole time he listens to Beomgyu go on and on about Mingyu without a complaint. After all, the guy has been a great friend to Vernon and even welcomed Vernon into his home back in December when things just blew up with his parents.

Beomgyu continues his scatter-brain ramblings as Vernon strides back into the main cafe area with the tub of clean dishes in hand to put away. A pleasant surprise, Vernon’s mentor, Eight, and his boyfriend come in.

Vernon hands over the tub to Beomgyu and goes over to give Minghao a hug. “Hey! Did we have plans today that I forgot about or something? Hey, Junhui.”

Minghao smiles and shakes his head. “No, we’re actually here for some other sucker.” Eight nods over to an approaching Mingyu and Vernon shrinks. Intuition tells him there’s something Minghao is leaving out, but what? Does it even matter? Vernon decides not to press and instead goes back behind the bar while the ‘adults’ talk.

From here, with just this bit of distance, he is able to see a different picture of things. Down to his core, Minghao is bursting with happiness that his typically cool demere can hardly contain. It’s quite endearing, as he usually has toils of judgement or worries, like many humans, and passion easily heats his heart. But today, there’s a near-perfect unity stronger and brighter than ever between the two—then something peculiar catches Vernon’s eye. A fluttering, green anxiety that only recently borrowed within Junhui and sits snugly atop any other worries the man has. It’s vibrantly fresh, but small, like something is suppressing it. What makes Vernon think it has something to do with Minghao is the way this particular yellow bleeds into Junhui’s side of their unity. Hell, Vernon never considered himself nosy before this ability came into his hands, now all he wants to do is know the exact status of their relationship.

Oh, how intuition carries the mind.

Vernon blinks and immediately sits up straighter to flaming oranges and purples. “Dad.”

Lost in thought, the son wakes to the image of his dad’s usually kindly soft features hardened by derision. “What is he doing here?”

Vernon looks behind where the trio stands, specifically at Minghao. “He’s here for Mingyu. You know they’re friends.”

“Well, considering his other ‘friend’ abandoned this place, I think waltzing in here like it’s just another Tuesday is insulting. What is he after? Information?”

“Or, he’s just here to see his friend.”

The flames ignite. “I don’t want him here.”

Vernon follows Joshua’s march behind the counter and into the office. “Just what kind of information is there to even look for?”

“Beats me, but you know just as well as I how unpredictable your father is. After decades, I’ve come to terms that only God can see into that man’s mind.”

The son watches as Joshua shuffles through a filing cabinet. “What are you looking for?”

“Nothing.”

Vernon huffs to himself and turns to leave, reading the obviousness of his dad wanting to be alone. These days, he always does, so he leaves. Vernon wonders how good of company the loneliness is for such hollow desires.

Somber. Agitation. Remorse. Fury. Like thunder roaring through overcast skies, you don’t know when lightning will strike. Though, Vernon could be standing in the middle of that very roaring storm and come out unscathed.

“Damn,” Groans Beomgyu, “is all of Mingyu’s friends fuckin’ models? I’m jealous. How am I supposed to compete? Thank god those two,” nodding to Eight and Junhui, “are head over heels in love with each other, otherwise I’m done for.”

“You don’t. There’s no competition.” He’s known this ever since he saw Wonwoo and Mingyu interact some years ago. Now that he can see auras, it’s confirmed. 

“Meanie. Can’t a boy dream?”

“As long as that ‘boy’ knows the line between dream and delusion—Oh, what’s up, Hao?” 

“Can I get a matcha americano? Large.” Vernon turns to make the drink, following the usual act of insisting it’s on the house, then pretending not to notice Minghao slipping a $10 into the tip jar.

“How’s work today?” The mentor asks.

“Fine. A bit slow. Where’s Mingyu and Junhui?”

“They’re grabbing a table at the brunch spot down the block.”

Vernon raises his brows and slides the hot drink across the table. “I doubt they’ll let outside food or drinks in.”

“I’ll finish it before I go inside.”He says before taking a sip of the steaming beverage, and remains planted in his spot.

Vernon sighs and wonders if maybe his dad was right. “Okay, what do you want?”

“Are you always like this to friends who are just wanting to check in with you?”

The kid pouts and begins mindlessly wiping the countertop. “My dad doesn’t want you in the cafe. I’m sure you can understand why.”

“Yeah.”

“He thinks you’re a ‘spy’ for my father, or something dumb like that.”

“Well,” Minghao’s voice guiltily trails, “maybe it’s not so dumb.”

Rarely is intuition wrong, and Vernon’s never is. “Did he ask you to check in on the cafe, my dad, or possibly even me?”

“Actually, you were his first request, but I didn’t tell him I would. It’s hard enough not getting in the middle of all this, but I’ll, at the very most, tell him you look healthy, which is a lie. Those dark circles, man, I’m surprised your dad isn’t over here right now fussing.”

“I doubt he’s noticed.” Vernon catches his reflection in the machine and frowns, wondering if they’ve always been so bad.

“Seungcheol evades answering how often Joshua comes over. Hell, Woozi and I had to basically wrestle any kind of information out of him about who he’s seeing. The damn fool thought his best friends wouldn’t notice something like that.”

Vernon swallows down the uncomfortableness of his dad being involved in such a subject in relation to some other man. He is an adult now, talking to another adult who cares. With how things are going, he better start getting used to such topics. “He’s there a couple nights out of the week, but he doesn’t know I know. Says he’s staying on campus to work late. It’s probably true sometimes considering how he’s a workaholic.”

“I see. Any word on your brother?”

Even now Vernon feels the distance between them. Sure, brother’s fight, but they always talk things out. Seungkwan's anger and frustration was just too great, too consuming and closed off his ears. “He’s still just as quiet as before. Our dad is still the only person he talks to.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s a bit of silence, though Vernon senses it’s packed full of questions.

“What is it?” 

“Hm?”

“You want to ask me something?”

Eight almost tries to deny, but his expression quickly surrenders to a smile. “God, you’re such a freaky kid. But yeah, actually, I did want to ask you something: Did you notice anything, um, off when Mingyu and Jun were here? Or, like, different?”

So, maybe Minghao isn’t completely clueless. “Kind of? Junhui, he—”

“Oh, I was talking about Mingyu. He’s been acting a bit weirder than usual. I don’t mean that in a bad or judgemental way, I’m just worried. Did you see something in Junhui, too?”

“Um… You know, whenever I see Mingyu’s aura, especially when I try to get a read on him, I always feel something extra. I don’t know why or how else to explain it, it’s just something I have always noticed.” In such recollections, Vernon begins doubting himself and wonders if his read on Mingyu was bleeding into Junhui’s because they were so close to each other, and Mingyu’s was just so loud. “Junhui is just a bit of an anxious guy by nature, I think that’s what I saw.”

“He didn’t seem happy?”

“He was happy. Is happy.” Minghao doesn’t seem convinced and his own aura deflates drastically. “Come on now, both you and Junhui light up like a thousand suns when you’re even thinking of the other.”

“Wait, you can tell when we’re thinking of each other?”

Vernon deadpans, “Trick question, because you two always are. Even a doofus like Beomgyu can see just how obsessed y’all are with each other.”

At the sound of his name, Beomgyu’s mop of hair pokes out of the back kitchen.

“Ah, is that the ‘Little Gyu’ Mingyu is scared of?” Minghao whispers, to which Vernon nods. Minghao nods with a chuckle, then checks his phone when it buzzes a notification. “The table is ready, I have to go.” But Eight stops himself before completely turning around. “Vernon, let me know when you’re free next, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you’re dealing with any of this on your own. I know I said I’m not picking sides, but if it’s yours then I’m there.  Before I go, is anything else on your mind?”

Vernon’s a bit overcome with surprise by Minghao’s straight forward worry and affection, and the first thing he thinks of are the very reason of the dark circles under his eyes. “I… I’ve been having weird dreams that I just can’t figure out; Nightmares about someone.”

“The same person?” Asks Minghao, Vernon nods. “Do you know who it is?” Vernon shakes his head. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is this person doing that makes it a nightmare?”

The natural reaction of anxiety pumps through Vernon’s heart, and he looks up at Minghao with all the fear and confusion he has experienced on far too many nights. “He’s… dying.”

+++

Chapter Text

FEBRUARY 5. 23:55. SPIRALING.

Fools of love are the ones who keep trying; grasping for anything and finding promise hidden in the unknown. And for the third time in a row, Seungcheol’s phone call goes unanswered.

“ …Please leave your message after the beep…”

A string of curses tumble out of Seungcheol’s drunken lips, possessing no ounce of sobriety strong enough to remind him that this is a bad idea.

“—BEEP—”

“Jeonghan? Hey, um, it’s been a while. How are you? Well, fuck, I know it’s not good—I mean, god that sounds bad, I, um, I know what happened, and I assume that’s why we haven’t talked in so long…” 

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches with a painful guilt he tries to hold at bay, out of fear it might reach the other end of this voicemail on the off chance Jeonghan actually listens. 

“I know you don’t owe me anything, but I miss you and need to see you. We’re friends, Jeonghan, and I may not agree or understand your actions, but I’ll always be here for you to at least lend an ear. You’re not a bad person. You’re at Hao’s, but please tell me at least if you’re in good health. You still have loved ones and we’re all worried about you. Well, okay then, bye.”

Seungcheol hangs up with tears in his eyes, feeling so much like a fool slapped in the face by regret. He misses his friend dearly despite the guy's questionable choices, but how would Jeonghan react in knowing what Seungcheol and Joshua are doing? This isn’t a silly childish game where ‘an eye for an eye’ makes everything okay, and Seungcheol got in the middle of a sacred bond. But, on the other hand…

Is their’s not such a bond that lured you in like honey?

“No.” The man says to himself, but doesn’t know where that answer falls into his consciousness.

But you love Jeonghan.

Seungcheol clenches the bottle in his hand.

… and Joshua.

The liquor bites like poison and makes Seungcheol recoil as he forces a swig down his throat, but even that is not strong enough of a distraction anymore. 

His listless mind drifts through the night, to intimacies he once swore he’d never let himself indulge in, but ones he couldn’t allow himself to regret. Then, the memories multiply and Seungcheol closes his tired eyes, too weak to bring in the reins of his mind.

Never will he forget those gasps and moans; The imprint of Joshua’s touch on his body—fingers, lips, tongue—melts him down to pure lust. How he kisses so direct yet tenderly, clutching to him like Seungcheol is the thing keeping him whole, because that’s who Joshua is to him. The second Seungcheol’s lips met Joshua’s he knew he could never drink up enough kisses from him. Lips that gained such expertise from Jeonghan, they’ve learned from and taught each other everything they know. Seungcheol got a glimpse into a world he would do anything to be a part of, and he should have been the only one with that privilege. 

“Fuck.” Loathing jealousy stabs in Seungcheol’s heart, and he cracks open another drink. Just one more…  

Heat and shame mix sourly inside Seungcheol and he turns on his phone to open his message app. It’s his turn to respond in he and Joshua’s conversation, but he’s hiding behind the white lie of sleep that he wishes was the case at such a late hour. The messages are light and easy, nothing in relation to their evenings unless it is when they can meet next. Seungcheol is secretly grateful for the simplicity, as any of their next meetings may very well determine where their relationship stands. It’s more than plausible Joshua could take back their actions at any moment, leaving Seungcheol thankful for the memories. 

It’s enough… It has to be enough…

He goes into his contacts and dials up a different number, and this call is answered after three short rings.

“Hello? Cheol?”

“Jihoon, hey, are you busy right now?”

“Nah, I’m just watching a movie. What’s up?”

Seungcheol sighs heavily, “Hoonie… Can I come over?”

“Sure, but I don’t plan on staying up much later.”

“What if I give you a reason to stay up?” The sprinkle of lust in Seungcheol’s voice is all he needs for Jihoon to easily read the promise hidden in his words, as it’s one they’ve exchanged for quite some years now.

“Cheol…”

Seungcheol chuckles, leaning back on his bed. “You’re into begging now? Maybe Mingyu isn’t as sweet and vanilla as I thought.”

“Things are getting more serious with him.”

Seungcheol’s smile fades as he realizes what his friend is getting at. “Oh, that’s great, Jihoon.”

“Sorry.”

For the sake of his friend, Seungcheol lightens his voice. “Don't be, I’m glad. You guys have been seeing each other for a while, who would have thought?”

“I know right, ha ha. Is everything else going ok with you though?”

Seungcheol is at a crossroad, quickly deciding if he should lie and say everything is fine, or come clean to his best friend about what’s eating away at him. “Everything’s fine, I just couldn’t sleep and got bored, is all.” Because if he does say even one thing about it, everything will come gushing out like a dam. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon was surprisingly nice when Seungcheol told them about what’s going on with he and Joshua, but he knows Jihoon doesn’t understand. Frankly, Seungcheol doesn’t entirely feel comfortable talking about Joshua to his friends, he can see the heavy judgement they try to hide in their eyes. “Tell me more about you and Mingyu.” 

“Alright. Well like I said, things are going pretty good. We’ve been seeing each other since the Halloween Party, I could have sworn Mingyu was into his friend Wonwoo, but he’s not. We’ve been going out more and more recently and have a great time. Honestly, if he wanted to make things official, I don’t think I’d say no.”  

“Wow, good for you, buddy. Just don’t break his heart or Hao is gonna kill you.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on it. Have you heard from Jeonghan recently?”

Another groan and wave of worry passed through Seungcheol. “No. I don’t know what to do, I’m really worried about him.”

“You can always go see him at Minghao’s, you know.”

“Mmm, I don’t think it would be right to surprise him like that. If he wanted to see me, he would see me. That’s just how it is.” 

“Don’t disregard your own needs, Cheol. You have a habit of that.”

“Well, what if nobody gives a damn about my needs?” Seungcheol doesn’t mean to sound snappy, and by Jihoon’s silence he knows he spoke too harshly. “Fuck. Sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m a bit drunk.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts. Care to get anything off your chest?”

“No, I promise I didn’t mean it like that. I just need… I need—”

“A distraction?” Jihoon finishes. “I guess that’s my habit: taking on that kind of role.”

“No, Jihoon, it’s not like that—”

“It’s not so black and white, I know. But the only reason why we’d ever sleep with each other was to get our minds off something else.”

“ I mean… Is that so wrong?”

“I don’t know how healthy it is—”

“What’s so bad about being an escape? Someone to rely on? We are that to each other, Jihoon, whether we are sleeping together or not.”

Seungcheol holds his breath as a sigh muffles over the phone, “Yeah, you're right. I just worry about you sometimes, Cheol.”

“I know, and I appreciate it.” Seungcheol sighs through the onset of sleepy booze circling through his veins. “Thanks for answering, I know it’s late, you should get some sleep.”

“You too. We have a staff meeting tomorrow.”

“That we do.” Seungcheol chuckles. “Night, Hoonie.”

“Cheol, I'll always answer your calls, you understand?”

A much needed lightness warms Seungcheol’s chest and wraps around him comfortingly. “Yeah.”

Seungcheol falls back onto his bed and watches the burning incense set at his bedside table. The thin, seamless string of smoke continuously rising, twirling, and fading. The small bruning ring slowly claims the stick, and the cultivated ash falls from gravity’s delicate pull.

Between thoughts of everything and nothing, Seungcheol has a thought before sleep finally resides: In life there is balance; in my success, maybe I deserve such misery…

+++

FEBRUARY 6. 11:45. FOLLOWING DAY.

The sweet escape work provides retreats when one of Seungcheol’s assistants shuffles through the active conference room, a note in hand:

Joshua Hong is here to see you

Seungcheol is barely able to save face in front of his subordinates, and, not wanting to talk through a presentation, quickly jots down a response.

Have him wait in my office

Lucky timing, or is it bad luck? There’s only fifteen minutes left in the meeting until Seungcheol will find out which side of the penny his day will fall upon.

The CEO looks over and is met with Minghao’s eyes. He reads the curiosity, cautious of worry that Seungcheol eases with a slight smile and head shake. Even if it was just them in this room, Minghao is the last person he wants to know that Joshua is here. It makes him wonder how much or if he has told Jeonghan, and feels bad for praying Minghao is something like that quiet to Jeonghan’s ear. 

An eternity stretches between these last few minutes and it takes everything in him to not hop out of his rolly chair and run up countless flights of stairs to his office. In passing, Seungcheol has his assistant, Soobin, hold his calls, then anxiously opens his office door.

“Hey, honey.”

From head to toe Joshua’s sweetness is beaming, even through the tiredness shallowing his face he is envigorating. They mirror each other’s reaching hands and wrap in an embrace. Seungcheol just wants to take care of this man and forgets all the past worries he had about all the uncertainty this relationship holds.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks, still nustling his cheek into Joshua’s soft hair.

“Honestly? Pretty fucking shitty. But, I’m a bit better now.” They unravel, and Seungcheol loses his breath when Joshua leans in to place a small peck upon his lips. It’s gentle, fragile, and not enough.

“Um, do you wanna sit?” The CEO asks, leading the way to the cushion leather couch encompassing a corner nook in his office. “Are you hungry? I can have Soobin go get us something.”

“I’m alright, I can’t stay for very long and I’m sure you’re busy. I just… I really wanted to see you. It’s been a while.” Sure they’ve texted nearly every day about sweet little nothings, but in person is always different, and so much better.

“It has, and I’m glad you’re here.” Sitting closer like this, Seungcheol is able to notice the smaller details of how stress marks Joshua’s face. The dark bags under his eyes, a few fine lines from furrowed brows across his forehead, the lack of color in his lips. “You look pale, Josh. And thin. I have stuff for ham sandwiches, please let me make you one.” 

Surrendering to the tiredness, Joshua nods and leans back in the soft leather couch while Seungcheol calls his assistant in. Less than five minutes later, Seungcheol is standing at his desk assembling bread, mayo, mustard, cheese, and ham between two plates as Joshua watches.

“You look good. Not that I forgot, I’m just surprised every time I see you. It’s been a couple days.”

“It has.” Seungcheol smiles to himself and shakes his head. “You and Je—” Seungcheol catches himself, “You just love teasing me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. You’re equal parts sexy and cute when you get flustered.” 

Whether or not Joshua noticed Seungcheol’s near slip up, it doesn’t show, and he happily takes the plate offered. “The last time I had a ham sandwich was when Seungkwan couldn’t finish his own because he ate too many snacks before lunch. That was at least five years ago.”

“Well, I’m a stereotypical dude who could live off sandwiches. I had one just yesterday.” They both let out a few giggles as Seunghceol situates himself and sits across Joshua. He’s getting ready to dive in when he notices Joshua’s curious head tilt. “What?”

“You’re so far away.”

“O–Oh…” Like that, Seungcheol is scooching in and complies when Joshua pulls him in even closer. He almost forgot how touchy Joshua can get sometimes, and is delightfully frazzled by the forwardness. He politely waits for Joshua to take the first bit and blushes by the way he adamantly nods in approval with sparkly eyes.

After another bite, Joshua is the first to speak. “So, how have you been? How’s work going?”

“It’s going pretty well. We’re reaching out to other countries in hopes of gaining more diverse clientele to represent, so Minghao’s department has been busting ass in translating documents and contract negotiations. I’m quite proud of everyone, but all the different languages spoken around me on any given day gives me a bit of a headache.” Seungheol ends his little update with a nervous chuckle and takes another bite of his sandwich.

“That’s so neat and interesting. I hope everything goes smoothly.”

“Thanks.” Just then, the memory of Joshua running out of his house in a fit of worry comes to mind. He was scared to ask before just in case it was a sensitive topic, with with some time Seungcheol feels better asking. “How’s Seungkwan? That day when you had to leave my place in a rush, it was because something happened, right? Sorry if I’m prying too much, I’ve just been a bit worried. You can tell me things. Or not. Up to you, but I’m here if you need me.”

Behind that beautiful mask breaks through something more vulnerable, and maybe even afraid, but not weak. “Thank you, you’re really sweet. Seungkwan… He was having a hard day dealing with some stuff, and that day I had to come clean about everything that’s been going on. He didn’t take the news well.”

Joshua sinks in on himself and Seungcheol raises a caring hand to rub his back. “I’m sorry.”

“He and Vernon aren’t getting along right now, either. I think he resents him for knowing before him, and that’s my fault. I just—I just—” Tears began to flow and takes his voice hostage, Seunghceol doesn’t know what else to do but pull Joshua into his chest as a desperate act of comfort. “Cheol,” Joshua hiccups, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“ …I told myself I wouldn’t cry today.”

It was all Seungcheol needed to hear to understand. “Well, I don’t know how you do it, but you’re still so beautiful when you cry.”

A suppressed laugh gently slightly shakes the pair, and Joshua gives himself one more breath before sliding out from Seungcheol’s arms to wipe his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Seungcheol wipes the last stray tear on Joshua’s cheek, “It’s part of my charm.” Lingering fingertips wrap in Joshua’s soft hold before being guided to his lips. One by one, Joshua kisses the fingers of Seungcheol's left hand, then is pulled over for Seungcheol to follow. When their lips meet, he tastes remnants of salty tears, but even that gets lost in the prolong of their kiss; how they move together, lick into each other so naturally. Even their breath is synchronized. 

“When do you have to leave?” Seungcheol asks through busy lips.

“About ten minutes. Twelve if we keep doing this.”

Seungcheol presses another kiss onto Joshua’s lips before forcing himself to pull away and make room for other possibilities. “Even holding you, I can feel how stressed you are…” The CEO then slides off the couch and down to the soft rug along the floor while playing with a smirk across his mouth. Shamelessly, he stares up at Joshua from between his knees. “I’d love to help you in any way I can. Only if you want me to, that is.” A whole other look washes over Joshua's face. One of tempted excitement with a slight mix of apprehension when he double checks his watch. “Trust me,” Seungcheol assures, “I can relieve at least some of your stress in eight minutes or less.”

12:25

Seven minutes to be exact, then an extra five minutes for recovery.

Seungcheol is beaming with pride as he accompanies Joshua out of his office, ignoring the overflow of post-it’s a skittish Soobin holds up to show how many calls he had missed. One look at Joshua, who is basically floating down these halls, and it’s worth it. They’re on the top floor of the skyscraper building, and when they get in an elevator Seungcheol inserts a special key that keeps anyone from being able to join this little ride until they reach the main floor. As soon as the metal doors close, they fall back into each other’s oscillations.

“Geez, do I really taste like that?” Joshua questions a couple floors down, “I’ve been living off espresso, sorry about that.”

“I don’t care, I like it.” Seungcheol leans back in and tightly wraps his arms around Joshua’s waist.

After a few more kisses, each more light and playful than the last, Joshua pulls back. “Thank you for everything. I haven’t felt good like this in a while.” As their descent nears the lobby, the two pull away with longing smiles. “Can I make you dinner this weekend? It’d have to be at your house, obviously, but I’d love nothing more than to wine and dine you.”

Such words ought to woo the heart of a suitor, but instead it watters a disquiet seed of angst pitted at the bottom of Seungcheol stomach. 

‘I’d love to wine and dine you…’

Jeonghan spoke these words to him before, of course in a more joking manner. But like the fool of love he is, Seungcheol’s heart fluttered then, too.

He responds just as the elevator doors open. “I’d love that.”

“Find an evening you’re free and let’s text about the details later. See you.” Joshua reaches to give Seungcheol’s hand one last squeeze before leaving towards the main doors. Seungcheol waits a minute with a smile on his face just in case Joshua gives a last look over his shoulder, but he doesn’t. That’s okay.

+++

FEBRUARY 7. 00:13. PHONE CALL.

He is too tired to care if it’s slowly implementing into his routine, too muddled with a world of worries to deem how healthy it is; The booze is helping to prolong his moments with Joshua while simultaneously distracting himself from what if’s. He rode the roller coaster in less than an hour and will be living off that short memory until he and Joshua meet again.

And when Seungcheol looks in the bathroom mirror, he sees nothing but a wet, dirty dog starved of affirmations, full of desperation. Even in that drunken, pathetic smile there’s a contradiction. It seems he is living his life with nothing but, these days.

He tastes the memory of Joshua’s lips, tongue, body, it brings forth a guilt strengthened by whiskey. Like clockwork, his phone falls into his hand and fingertips dance over a series of numbers on his keypad. 

It rings once… Three times… Then after the sixth he is taken to a voicemail he hangs up on. 

The newfound silence is too still, so Seungcheol glides over to his vinyl collection and swiftly pulls out BUCK-TICK’s 1991 ‘狂った太陽’ album for his record player. That’ll surely lull his aching soul. He increases the volume tenfold, and almost immediately Seungcheol falls in tandem with the nostalgic rockin’ rhythm. He lets the music fill his body and cast away the dwelling worries that don’t fit into his current intoxicated jive. Down the hall the music carries him,  echoing through the walls and euphorically hitting Seungcheol’s ears. Under the noses of large portraits of dead relatives he dances, followed by the painted eyes of past Choi family household heads. In a leap of time, he splays himself out to match the raw emotion of ‘JUPITER’ and sings through the coherent and noncoherent Japanese lyrics he knows.

His heart sings for Joshua, and cries out to Jeonghan; a transportive, mindnulling loop of satisfaction and breaking. It is enough to silence the angel on his shoulder screaming to put the phone down.

Again, it rings once… Three times… Seungcheol waits for the fourth but is met with a curious silence, and the newly ticking time on his screen tells him his call has, after all this time, finally been answered. 

“ … Jeonghan?” Further silence answers back, but that’s enough for Seungcheol. “Jeonghan, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Ohmygod it is you! Aha ha! Wow, he—he actually answered, I can't believe it…” He doesn’t register the difference between the voice in and outside his head, as his liquored lips are rather hard to control at the moment.

“Yeah, well I was beginning to think if you’d never stop calling.”

“You don’t know me as well as I thought you did if you were to think I would. Even if you were to hang up right now, I would never give up.” What a simp(le man): The previous hurt and betrayal Seungcheol felt vanishes the minute he hears Jeonghan’s voice. The minute Jeonghan gives him attention. 

“Oh Cheollie… You’ve always been too good to me.” 

“You deserve it, Han. You’re not a bad person.”

“How do you still believe that?” 

“Well… because I know you, Jeonghan. I care for you.” Amidst this drunken admission, Seungcheol catches his reflection in a mirror about his walk down the hallway, and his feet come still. A sloppy mess stares back at him that would make any sober person self conscious, but he can’t avert his gaze. Not when he begins to see the strangeness of his own guilt twisting those features. “Jeonghan, please, I just need to know… Why did you do it?” 

Seungcheol waits, silence stretching into uncomfortable anticipation. Then, the voice spoken is small—not necessarily in the way of a whisper, but completely hollow and distant. 

“Is there even a right answer to that?”

To which Seungcheol honestly replies, “No. But I still want to know, and truthfully I deserve an answer.”

“And what, pray tell, is your truth in which you think you ‘deserve’ an answer?”

The product of such a question lies in the mirror: The face of a man who was in love with his married best friend, then went and fucked his husband. Guilty comforts the guilty, and he feels the line between sympathy and empathy blur. Seungcheol was upset at Jeonghan when Joshua first told him what he did, but was it because he wasn’t the other man? Or, because Jeonghan betrayed the both of them?

“You know why, Jeonghan.” All three of them do, as the road of denial has finally run out. 

“You weren’t even in our lives back then when it happened.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

A long and heavy sigh muffles through the other end of the line, and Seungcheol can feel the tiredness seep through phone. “Seungcheol… Just what do you take me for?”

Only a handful of times has Seungcheol ever been annoyed at Jeonghan, even then it hardly counted because they were all from silly squabbles that meant next to nothing. Currently and for the first time, Seungcheol feels genuine annoyance for Jeonghan. “Why are you deflecting the question?”

“Don’t be such a guy.” He mutters on the other end, “I owe it to Joshua to talk to him first. He won’t respond to any of my messages, however, which now brings me to wonder how he would take it knowing you’re talking to me right now?”

Now that’s a question Seungcheol has been internally avoiding, not even wanting to guess how Joshua would handle it. Frankly, he doesn’t want to know.

“These days, you two have been spending a lot more time together, no?”

Seungcheol nervously gulps, “N–Not ‘a lot’ of time.”

“Cheol, I'm too tired to take any sugar-coating.”

“Well, we’d also have spent more time together, too, if you’d have answered my calls.”

“And what if I told you the reason why I haven’t been answering is because I do not want to see you?”

Through the mirror, Seungcheol sees his eyes widen, brows furrowing in a painful disbelief. His chest hurts, and even when he slides down to the floor he doesn’t escape that foolish reflection. The mirror—that fucking heirloom built into the walls—is that damn big. “I’m a bit drunk right now, if I’m being honest. Can you say that one more time?” 

“I said that I’m scared to see you. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to answer.”

So, he did hear wrong. God, his inebriated mind is far more easy to get swept up in than his sober state. “Hannie, why would you be scared to see me? Why did you answer tonight?”

“I… I’m ashamed. Down to my core, I realize how rotten I am, and you were the last person in my life who didn’t know how much of a fuck-up I could be. But now you do, and any sane person would take Joshua’s side. Even you.”

“Everyone on this Earth is a fuck-up, Jeonghan.” The truth to that sentence stares him dead in the eye. “Please, I don’t want us to slip out of each other's lives. This can be worked through.”

“I don’t think it can. Joshua would be a fool not to leave me for good.” 

“I can’t speak for him, but the love you two share doesn’t just go away. You’re too important to each other. And you’re too important to me.” Then, a question alights, even if it’s a bit of a selfish one. “Aren’t I important to you?”

“You are.”

The answer is simple and kind, but not enough. Reflecting from before, Seungcheol couldn’t stop his aching curiosities from then begging, “Jeonghan, what do you take me for?”

More silence, complete stillness. 

“ …What is Joshua to you?”

Seungcheol laughs at his plight and shakes his head. What a cruel dance. “I have a feeling that you know that answer.”

“I suspected, but now it’s just been proven. It was one of the first things I thought about when he left me: What better excuse than my infidelity for Seungcheol and Joshua to fuck?”

+++

Chapter Text

FEBRUARY 12. 20:32

Minghao has always liked this side of town; the designated art district where graffiti, murals, and peculiar buskers interweave throughout the streets. High fashion is a must with no exception, an unsaid rule Minghao made sure to expressess extra clearly to Mingyu when he agreed to come out with him this evening.

Originally, it was going to be the ol’ gang getting together, Minghao and Junhui inviting Wonwoo and Mingyu to a fundraiser in the form of an art gallery, but Junhui had to stay at work late to finish some projects with his team. Wonwoo, on the other hand, is going through a period where his body is reacting quite badly to his treatments, but this is “a normal side effect” claimed those uptight doctors. Just because it’s normal doesn’t deem it okay, and Minghao doesn’t like the idea of something that’s supposed to help his buddy is instead making him so sick. 

He’ll talk about it to only a minimum, he doesn’t want to put Mingyu off. As of right now, the two are supposed to meet in front of the gallery that’ll hold their meeting, but Minghao is having a hard time finding his friend in the societal swarms that fill such narrow streets.

“Yoooooo!” 

In a quick turn of his head, Minghao can see his friend's mousy brown hair sticking up above the crowd.

“Hey, what’s up?” They give their usual hug before merrily making way into the building.

“So, what are we seeing again?”

“One of the department heads in SVT has a son who’s exhibit is being featured in a magazine we sponsor. That’s who we’re seeing.”

“Ooo, light-hearted nepotism. Very cute.”

Minghao laughs and shakes his head. “Not all nepo-babies are talentless. Apparently the kid is a genius in anything involving ‘art’: Dance, drawing, painting, photography, fashion, the little fucker’s even a high demand model. He can also hold his own when it comes to music.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows are damn near raised to his hairline by the time Minghao is finished. “Oh damn. Well, pardon me then. Wait, “kid”? How old is this bastard?”

“About twenty, still only a college student. Second year.”

“Fuck me.” They take a pamphlet and head into the exhibit, hitting the open bar in the back first. “Hwang Hyunjin?” Mingyu reads.

“That’s him.”

They order wine, a Marlo for Minghao and Pinot Grigio for Mingyu.“He’s fine. Does he go to Attacca? I wonder if Dino knows him.”

“Pervert.”

“Not for me!” Exclaims the taller, “I was thinking for Chan!”

“As, yes, I should have guessed knowing you still haven’t given up on a certain someone.”

“Don't be mean.” Mingyu says in a small voice. 

They start their gander with the photography section, frames of all shapes and sizes scattered along the walls with the utmost precision. What isn’t in black and white still has little color in the most dramatic notions. 

Minghao rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t go to Attacca, by the way.”

“Hm. It would have been cute if they knew each other. I would have come again and dragged Chan with me.”

“You want to set him up that badly?”

“Yes! I don’t want someone who’s so handsome, adorable, and talented, to be wasting his time fawning after a person who doesn’t see him in a romantic light.” Minghao deadpans, not needing to say anything for Mingyu to see such irony, and his voice rises to a frivolous state. “Hey now! My situation is different!”

“Well, I’d have to meet this other person you think Dino is ‘fawning over’ to decide if they’re the same kind of fools as you and Wonwoo.”

To get back at him, Mingyu shoots a hand forward to ruffle Minghao’s perfectly styled hair and runs, disappearing around the corner with an obnoxious giggle.

Minghao is above running like an idiot in a public place, let alone an art gallery. Discrete ambush, on the other hand, is a different story. So, after quickly fixing his hair with the aid of his pocket mirror, he finds a different segway in the opposite end of the room that’ll lead him to his target.

“AH!”

“Don’t yell, dumbass!” Minghao swats at the taller’s shoulder, “You’re embarrassing me, can’t I take you anywhere?”

“Sorry, bro. Don’t be a hard ass.”

They find themselves in the middle of a room with four large paintings on each end. ‘ Flowers. What a drama queen’, Minghao steps closer to one done in oils, the last of the series, it seems, as the first was vibrant and this one is painfully withered. “If this kid’s as good in music and dance as he is drawing, Cheol’s going to want to scout him.”

“These aren’t drawings.”

“You know what I mean.”

Several more minutes here, then on to the next room. Eight small podiums showcasing tiny sculptures of headless human bodies, some even  artistically missing a limb or two, in materials from brass to red clay. Each strikes a strange and oddly beautiful pose, Minghao is completely enthralled. The price isn’t too bad either, as he suspects it will surely go up over the years. 

“Do you think this’ll look good in my—Junhui and I’s apartment?”

“And to think you were being overly critical. You love this stuff, don’t deny.”

Minghao groans, “You know me so well, buddy,” and onwards their promenade, wanting to get a good look at all the little pieces before deciding. 

“My situation is different, Hao.”

“We’re talking about that again? Okay, ADHD.”

“Be serious for a second,” Mingyu whines, “I don’t know what to do and Wonwoo is getting worse.”

“You do know what to do, because it’s what you’ve been doing.” Minghao want’s to finish the sentence with ‘Nothing’, but the poor guy is in too delicate of a state. “If you were to do anything different, you would have by now.” Minghao knows it would be a waste of time going on about how, if roles were reversed, he’d have just grabbed the man and kissed him by now. He can only say so much in accordance with someone else’s life.

Mingyu’s lips press into a tight line, and Minghao downs the rest of his wine. “You never want to talk about this stuff—which is fine, of course— but I assume you already know what I would advise. At least, what I would have in the past, and maybe that’s what you want to hear, to use my words as an excuse, but now everything is different, huh?”

Mingyu looks into his own cup, empty of any contents. Minghao can only imagine what conflicts stir in his sweet mind.

“Gyu, how do you live with it? I thought you were in pain before, but this has to be just pure agony.”

“Honestly, what I think it is, is that I’ve forgotten what other ways there are to live. He’s so important to me, takes up so much of my heart…”

Minghao feels for his friend, he really does, he now also has to consider his other friend who is now involved. “Gyu, you need to end things with Jihoon.”

“…I really do like him, Hao. Genuinely.”

“I know you do, he’s a great guy. But, you’re also not even remotely falling out of love with Wonwoo.” It’s not a question, and both of them know they are far past that simple courtesy.

“Okay. I will end things.”

“Good. Do it soon. He’s a proud little bastard, but he’s got a lot of heart under all that.”

“Maybe that’s why he lets people use him so much.”

“Yeah.” Minghao thinks about Seungcheol now, too. “It might sting a little, but he’ll be okay.”

“Alright.”

Minghao sighs and turns his gaze onto a painting; a dark, rainy cityscape where lights reflect along the “wet” street of a bridge: our setting. The focus is that of a tattered apple, bitten and abandoned. What draws Minghao in is that the city lights reflection masks and elude the fact that this apple was once a vibrant red; washed out and tattered by its fabricated environment.

“I think this one is my favorite so far.” murmurs Mingyu, “It’s a bit sad, but really draws me in.”

“Yeah. Let me gift it to you.”

“Hao, I couldn’t possibly—”

But Mingyu’s modesty is hushed up into a small smile with a swift turn of Minghao’s heel to the art dealer at the front desk. “The apple painting, how much is it?”

“I’m sorry sir, but that painting has already been sold.”

“How much? I can out bid.”

Mingyu shuffles on over and grabs the corner of Minghao’s sleeve. “Hao, it’s alright.”

“How much to out bid?”

The art director smiles amused and shakes his head. “You’ll have to take that up with the CEO, Mr. Xu Minghao, he’s the one who bought it.”

Minghao groans and asks about the small statues, ultimately getting one for Mingyu, as well.

It makes sense, really. Of course that painting would fascinate Seungcheol. It was basically made for him.

+++

FEBRUARY 15, 19:21. HOME.

Minghao has never known love to be so consuming. He feels its delicate reach ribbon into every aspect of his life and being. Like green micro threads spurring up from the ground, weaving together to form a stem and pulse life into an everblooming flower. Minghao laughs quietly to himself and shakes his head. God, I’m sick of winter. 

“What is it?” A curious Junhui asks.

“Oh, nothing important. Just thinkin’ bout how much I love you.”

“Ah, yes, nothing important at all.” Junhui laughs and kisses Minghao on the cheek before continuing the assembly of the ingredients splayed out a longer Minghao’s— their countertop. 

Tonight, the couple is having a hell of a time making chicken pot pie together, and enjoying the complete mess the whole process is turning out to be. Nonetheless, when a delicious aroma begins emitting from the oven, the couple knows they will be eating well tonight. 

Minghao watches fondly as Junhui turns on the oven light to see how their creation is cooking and his eyes grow wide in delight.

“It won’t cook if you keep looking at it.” Mignhao teases, and a playful tongue shoots out at him. God, he cannot remember what his days contained before all this. If every day for the rest of his life was spent in Junhui’s company, not another complaint would dull his lips again.

In a swift pop , another bottle of the Chardonnay Junhui brought over is refilling empty glasses, and a cheers to “Home” is spoken, because that’s what it is when they are together.

The evening sways, filled with love drunk devotions and light classical music filling the background. Alcohol’s compelling warmth started crawling up to rosy Junhui’s cheeks a glass ago, and the more Minghao looks at him the more he just wants to smother that sweet face in kisses.

Hell, what’s stopping him?

Minghao corners Junhui along a countertop and leans in, the need of his wanting lips are easily met. God, he could kiss Junhui forever, and that is a promise he is willing to make. He steps closer and melts into the inviting warmth of his lover, and Junhui sighs into his lips. The wine mixed with the usual taste of Jun’s tongue is utterly stimulating, Minghao bites at his lower lip for several moments before entangling their tongues back together.

Eager hands swoop down to Junhui’s bottom of perfection, but something crinkles when he squeezes and Junhui chuckles. “What’s this?” Minghao breathlessly asks.

Junhui plays dumb and shrugs, though his telling eyes urges Minghao’s curiosity, so he carefully pulls the paper from his man’s back pocket. An envelope unveils and Minghao tilts his head, a silent question, to which he waits for Junhui's nod before opening it.

“I know everything can be done online,” Junhui jabbers as the other softly tears through the seal, “but call it my romantic gesture for printing them out. You know, like they do in the movies.”

“ …Airplane tickets?” Junhui nods bashfully and interlaces his fingers around the small of Minghao’s back, quietly waiting as Minghao reads the mandarin characters. “You’re going to China?”

“ We are going to China in the spring.” Junhui corrects.

It’s a surprise, to say the least, and the biggest surprise of all being, “But Shenzhen, isn’t that…?”

“My hometown, yes. I’ve been missing China—the food, culture, air—and I want you to see where I grew up, like we talked about so long ago.”

For the sake of his love’s grin beaming with hope, Minghao wants to be happy. Then, instinct sees a coincidence too close for ignorant bliss. Minghao hums and turns over the papers in his hands. “We were kids, then. That was before everything happened.”

The remembrance of a darkened history flickers over Junhui’s face. “Well sure, things may have changed, but it’s still my hometown, you know? It wasn’t all bad, I remember it quite fondly. You’ve only ever visited China a handful of times, right? Don’t you want to see another part of it? It’s our heritage, Hao, I want to show it to you from another side.”

Winds rial placid fields in silver moonlight; Under Junhui’s smile, difficult emotions itch through. 

Innocently, blindly, he is still holding on? How long has he been missing home? And Minghao can’t help but wonder why Junhui would ever miss such a place. Minghao knows he can be a judgemental hothead sometimes, so he reminds himself to really emphasize on approaching spoken curiosities with extra kindness and affection for his worried care to transfer correctly to his sensitive Junhui. “Wow, that sounds great, love. Truly. It seems like you’ve already put a lot of thought into it. What else would be on our itinerary?”

“Well, there’s lots of shopping we can do there so you must resist your heavy packer ways. We can go to amusement parks, sightseeing, picnics, gardens, and there's a ghost tour I found that looks really fun. Of course, the first thing we’ll do is get some food, so I’ll take you to some of my favorite restaurants.”

In another light, this truly does sound like the perfect trip, but reality doesn’t have that kindness shining down on them. “How fun.” Minghao forces a smile, “Anything else?”

When Junhui’s own merry speaking flickers, “Oh, I’m getting ahead of myself. Sorry, I guess I am springing this on to you rather suddenly, I can give you some time to think about it—”

“Baby, no, I would go anywhere with you no question. The trip truly sounds wonderful, I'd love to see the place you grew up someday. Honesty, I’m just a little worried.”

“Worried? About what?”

Oh, how Minghao would do anything to take away this man’s pain. “My love,” gentle, like approaching a sweet wounded mouse, “you know why.”

“But, it’s just a trip, Hao.”

“No, baby, it’s not.” Minghao’s heart cracks at the innocence pouring from those naturally sleepy eyes, then he imagines the time when his vibrant Junhui was once suppressed to a doll. “There’s something more to this trip, isn’t there?”

Junhui sighs heavily and his wide eyes fall shamefully to the floor in his confession.  “I–I miss them. I want to see my family, Minghao. I can’t stand the way things are and maybe if I just talk to them, they’ll take me back…?”

Confusion and sympathetic pain blow embers of anger for how, despite all that has happened, there is still such a hold on Junhui. 

Delicately, Minghao whispers, “Junhui, they’re not that kind of people, and that’s not the question you need to ask: It’s if you should take them back or not.”

“It—It wouldn’t be to stay, of course, I just want to see them.” Minghao doesn’t say anything, no verbal response past his piercing stare and Junhui shakes his head, trying to sort through words and reason that birth frustration. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like living across an ocean from where you were born and raised. You do love your family though, wouldn’t you try to bring them back into your life if they were to leave?”

“I can understand ‘missing family’, but… they hurt you in ways that may stick with you forever. Of all the horrible things that woman has put you through, after months of freedom from years of torture, you still feel her pull.” Of course. Nothings ever that easy. “You were abused mentally, and sometimes physically, manipulated into submission, and that should never be condoned. It should be them trying to atone for what they did to you, this isn’t something you need to be in charge of fixing.” 

Minghao sees Junhui’s nervous habit of squeezing and pulling at his own fingers, just as he feels a wall of repudiation trying to build itself between him and the truth. All the while, “My fault,” sounds through erratic whispers. 

“Junhui, your father’s death is not your fault. Your brother’s silence is not your fault. She took that horrible power to use you, control you, and closed you off from so many possibilities… She took you away from me.” He could see every word pierce Junhui until he was barely able to stand.

“My brother only did as he was told, I should have protected him better. He’s older now, maybe if he knew everything…” Junhui nor Minghao knew how such a sentence should finish. 

“Family is everything, until they treat you like nothing. Then, they don’t deserve such a title.”

“But, then where does that leave me?” Before Minghao opens his mouth, Junhui continues on. “I have you, Wonwoo, Mingyu, but at any moment either one of you guys could leave me! You may not think that way now, but I’m sure my mother didn’t think such horrible things when she was walking me to my first day of school, or—or  helping me get my first high school uniform. Families aren’t supposed to leave… Not for forever…” Junhui’s nervous fidgeting becomes too much, his cuticles draw blood and he collapses to his knees in overstimulated shivers. Minghao follows him to his level, open and available.

“My mother was abandoned by her family.” Minghao mutters, “She was disowned when she got pregnant with me out of wedlock, then fled here with her best friend. I never met my biological father, but I am content with that because the two women who raised me—my mothers—taught me what true family means.” Minghao takes Junhui’s silence to slide into his arms in an embrace. “We were separated by an ocean of impossible circumstances, yet still found a way back to each other. We are family, Wen Junhui.”

Though, Junhui’s arms stay limply by his side. “Yes, we are. I used to think that you were all I had and needed, but I can’t afford that dependency anymore. Especially because you don’t want a family… Not the same kind as I do.”

In his mind, Minghao repeats the words several times as he untucks his head from Junhui’s chest. There’s an understanding shared between them when eyes meet, and Minghao begins to wonder just how much of Junhui’s suffering had he missed.

A tear falls, catching on Junhui’s cheek when he solemnly smiles. “I want a family, Hao. More than anything in the world, I want to be a father.”

To be responsible of life in this big, cruel, fucked up world; to loose your own freedom to fatherhood has been something Xu Minghao has never wished for. Yet, here is the love of his life, somehow still holding a light in the pits of despair. There’s so much good in him, can Minghao live up to it?

In this exchange, a standstill is birthed, and a river of uncertainty puts miles between the lovers.  

+++

FEBRUARY 16. STANDSTILL.

Minghao watches Junhui’s sleeping breath rise and fall under the white down comforter. Never has he felt so far away from someone he could easily reach out and touch. Lovers belong in the heart, not miles away.

He looks so peaceful, handsome, completely sound in slumber, no trace of the pain Minghao has fallen ignorant to. Before, he thought they were walking the same path together. Now, Minghao sees that the person he thought he was walking with was just figments of his own desires, utterly blinded by love and happy days. 

Where is he?

“If I speak about my dream, will you listen?” 

Junhui’s eyes are slowly opening, his voice fatigued. Minghao nods despite the anxiety toiled in his gut.

“It’s nothing outlandish, at least, not to me. I don’t remember much, but it started with me walking along a river, and the sun is beginning to set. The water was shimmering, people were laughing, happiness was in the air. I looked down because there’s a tiny hand I was holding on to and I wanted to see the warm light on this child— my child’s face. When my child looked up at me, I knew there was no greater purpose in my life than this beautiful, perfect being.”

In sharing this dreamy memory, Junhui found focus on the soft, white comforter, fidgeting with the textures. When he looks up, Minghao has left the room. Junhui slides out of bed and into his fuzzy house slippers, skidding slowly down the hall and into the living room. 

“Hao?”

He’s there, lying on the couch, nestled up against the cushions with his back exposed. 

“I’m sorry.”

 Minghao doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know how to.

FEBRUARY 17. FORLORN.

The rain pouring outside echoes through the quiet apartment. Standing at the glass door to the balcony, Minghao watches, allowing his own mind to surrender to this spectacle of storm. He feels Junhui’s eyes on him and draws inward, unable to face such hope.

They spend this afternoon together in placid silence, both too afraid and uncertain to speak. Once or twice, Jeonghan emerges from his room like a curious mouse, Minghao almost forgot the guy was still here, but he ultimately lets them be.

By evening, the storm has abated to a soft trickling and Minghao finds himself on the couch drawn into a book. He is finally able to focus on the page of words and its story when Junhui kneels in front of him. 

“I’m going to go to Wonwoo and Mingyu’s for a bit. Maybe…it’d be good if we take some to ourselves.”

No… He doesn’t want that. Minghao reaches out and grabs Junhui’s shirt, preventing him from rising to his feet.

“We can’t keep going on like this.”

Junhui is right about that, but still Minghao does not want him to go.

“We need to clear our heads.”

Minghao snakes his grasp to wrap around Junhui’s waist, pulling him closer. His stomach is so warm, he lets Junhui be the cushion to his head and basks in this small, sedated moment. If Junhui needs this, he will comply. 

“I love you.” Minghao muffles into the fabric of Junhui’s sweater.

“And I love you.”

Minghao blinks and the warmth of his love disappears, taking the air with him. 

The rest of the night, Minghao moves about his now much too big, too empty apartment feeling an ignorant fool.

+++

Chapter Text

FEBRUARY 20. 05:22. SPIRAL.

He lies still, impartial to listless breathing that rises the silky sheets nesting him. The king-size bed is the centerpiece to a gorgeous room, just one of many belonging to such a grandiose home. Beautiful and reticent, a doll in its dollhouse waiting to be played with. So, Joshua once again closes his eyes to welcome sleep to fill the moment between this and next. He does not know what time it is, though the essence of ‘morning’ still hangs in the air, and true to his nature as a father, Joshua thinks first of his children. Their alarms are probably readying to start their day: Seungkwan for a day of lectures, projects, and spending time with friends. Vernon, going in to work a shift at the café. Then…

Jeonghan.

His eyes snap back open in protest, but shame still washes itself over as so with the other passing attempts to not think about his still technical husband. 

When Joshua’s eyes are closed, he sees Jeonghan. When they’re open, he sees Seungcheol; each casts different lights of contempt without a switch in sight to turn off. Is this how Jeonghan felt when he woke up in another man’s bed? He wonders how much Jeonghan actually felt for that guy, if it was even love. Is Joshua in love with Seungcheol? He remembers a time when he thought he was, then ultimately concluding Seungcheol was someone he could’ve fallen in love with in another life.

 Joshua remembers something his mother once told him: “When a person cheats, it’s either with their dick, or something in their life is missing”. He has pondered the thought countless times by now, concluding that Jeonghan’s reason ought to be the ladder. But what it is that is missing, he cannot understand. It makes him feel aloof, absent, and hopelessly foolish. 

Jeonghan… His gentle presence that used to ease Joshua just by mere proximity.

Jeonghan… A smile that can take your breath away, a single, radiant blossom from the true beauty of his soul, soft petals that became tarnished by cruel winds and bruised by a hard fall.

Was Joshua himself a harsh gust? Or could he have been the ground meant to catch Jeonghan, only to inflict further pain when he landed?

Joshua’s pulse picks up and his eyes harden on a section of the intricate patterned wallpaper around him. It adds a subtle enchantment to the room that spirits Joshua to something cinematic and golden, making the escape from reality easy. In precise randomness among the dark azure walls are beautifully crafted swans. All one in the same, all carrying a tranquil, stoic silhouette  bordered in fine lines of gold. The creature is so far away no matter how intently, how closely Joshua looks at it. 

In time, sedated curiosities are left unsettled, and an ounce of softness presses into his neck. Reflexively, Joshua extends in acceptance and Seungcheol gently coils his naked self around the other. Joshua knows what it’s supposed to feel like, the warmth and adoration such intimacies are meant to bring about. But, he’s still waiting for the eager pleasing pride in his chest to ignite. 

Touch glides under the sheets, across Joshua’s body, enticing and gentle the way Joshua usually likes. He turns into Seungcheol’s chest and kisses up his neck until their lips find one another’s. 

The intimacy is kind, delicate, but Joshua’s mind still wanders, finding itself on a road through history blown far away in time. A ghost’s touch, oh how he misses it. Joshua kisses away the thought.

Like clouds caught in the wind they roll, the soft caressing of sheets slide elsewhere of no importance, and the air waiting for them is a welcomed cool brush upon heated bodies. Joshua is able to disappear into these moments of lust and torridity, though only briefly. His escape is Seungcheol—is supposed to be Seungcheol ; The insurance of his company helps Joshua smile, and the pleasure of his touch guides him to forget. Only, each time he comes down from that sweet release, brutal reality waits for him at the bottom. Right now, it’s nearly unbearable.

Seungcheol’s heavy breath blows against Joshua’s ear and sends a repulsive shiver down Joshua’s spine. He can’t help it. The damp sheets rub uncomfortably along his backside, and the repugnant layer of sweat he worked up mixes distastefully with the man’s on top of him. Seungcheol holds him carefully, but it is that carefulness that makes Joshua recoil.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol asks in a low whisper. The thumb on his face brings attention to the tears sliding down Joshua’s face, a silent cry. 

“N–Nothing.” Joshua chokes, “Don’t stop, okay?” But these words take no effect in veiling this ugly uncomfortableness. Seungcheol is hesitant, but he abides to Joshua’s wishes and his hips begin to roll again, only to make the spout of tears run wild.

Seungcheol removes himself from the now sobbing Joshua and sits up, utterly perplexed and worried for his lover. 

Then there is Joshua, whose heart aches so deeply, the pain tears into his soul. It curls him into a ball of wailing, conjuring up the root of his agony to fall from his lips in the form of a simple word—a name: “ …han… Jeonghan…!” It is as if speaking his name magically makes the man closer, but the emptiness found in his arms proves the painful disillusions. 

Seungcheol mutters Joshua’s name, and maybe some other questions, but they are not registered. He cannot hear them, as they do not matter. It’s when that soft touch on his back ignites a physical recoil that Joshua is brought back to the room. Tears come to a shaky halt and there, at the other end of his glassy vision, Joshua is met once more with one of Seungcheol’s hundreds of painted swans.

The longer he focuses on one, the others around begin to slowly move and morph. Then he quickly looks to another and they all still, until several seconds of stillness goes by and the process repeats itself once more. Joshua almost forgets he isn’t alone in this dollhouse until, again, he hears his name called out in a voice augmented with worry.

Last week, Seungcheol was a face Joshua considered himself to be blessed waking up beside. Because two months ago, the idea of sharing anything more than a smile with Seungcheol lived in buried fantasies. Now, Joshua can’t even face the man, it hurts too much. Another’s presence has never made Joshua feel so alone.

“Please,” Joshua murmurs, “I…”

“He hurt you, yet you still miss him?”

He knows it is disappointing—weak, pathetic… But to be human is to feel all of these things and more, understanding that love is the most complex emotion a person can feel. 

“Seungcheol, he is the love of my life.”

“But, he betrayed you and sought love from someone else. He looked past you—you weren’t enough for him, but you are enough for me.” Seungcheol takes a chance and wraps his arms around Joshua’s frail form. “I love you and will always hold you so tenderly in my heart. Please, Joshua, just give me the chance to show you that I will never hurt you the way he did. ”

And maybe he is right. In his hold, wrapped in suffocatingly kind promises, Joshua’s nerves are soothed, and he eventually raises his own arms to accept the embrace. In this small course of time, Joshua's consciousness uplifts itself to a different place, another day, a future possibility…

Late morning brushed fondly through thick, silver curtains of clouds. Slumber was heavy with sweetness, but Joshua had no choice other than waking with a smile since there was a blooming weed that kept tickling his nose. 

“Love,” cooed his man, and Joshua answered by rolling over across the blanket, onto the stomach of he who beckons. “How was your nap?”

“Wonderful.” 

Grass caught in a breeze swayed gently around them and their checkerboard island, and Joshua joined the gale in playing with Seungcheol's hair. That smile, his laughter, it pulled Joshua in to meet his lips.

“It appears it may rain soon,” said Seungcheol. “We ought to get going, yes?”

Joshua tilted his head, but in due observation, a shower did seem promised in the mismatched skies of blue and grey. “Okay.”

So, Joshua followed Seungcheol’s guide of packing up their picnic and began their walk back through the valley to their family’s summer cabin. All the while, Joshua kept an eye on the increasingly darkening sky and hoped this shower wouldn't turn to storm.

Drip… Drip…

Before Joshua said anything, Seungcheol threw the picnic basket over his shoulder, grabbed Joshua’s hand, and ran. The rain was stirring. It was like every step taken made the rain pour harder. It drowned out Joshua’s vision until all he could see was the distant white outline of their summer home. 

They ended up on the veranda’s swing, clean and sheltered from the thudding pour, encompassing their happiness. Joshua had always loved the rain, there’s just that simple melancholic fondness it brings to the air that calms the waters of Joshua’s heart.

Neither knew how long they sat for. Soft ‘ shhhhh’s’ and metallic creaking from the swing caressed their ears, but a bright, gray glimmer tilted Joshua’s head from Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Now that is what he truly loved, when the heavens opened up.

“...sun caught in our eyes…”

Joshua turned around and saw the same melancholic beauty in Seungcheol as he did in the rain, and he remembers another with such similarity. 

“That’s nice, say it again for me?” 

And Joshua complied.

“On the swing, we drift 

with sun caught in our eyes

Azure morning’s rift

Heaven and rain collide”

Seungcheol smiled and cuddled his love back into his shoulder. “Lovely. Is there more?”

Joshua shrugged, his gaze fixed on a gloomy pond down the hill, just shy of the sun’s rays. “Maybe.” 

Rain abated and left behind damp air, soaked-out clouds, and a listless sky. In the distance, swans waddled back out from under a willow tree towards the pond. Watching such a world made Joshua feel strange for no peculiarly strong reason, he merely felt as if he was caught in a painting and the scenery over yonder was fabricated. He reached out, there was space and air, but if he were to keep walking, it felt as if he would be met with a wall of painted promises; 2-D, unfit and too beautiful for real life. 

Eventually, Seungcheol got up. “Let’s go inside.”

“M’kay.” And Joshua's feet fell in cadence with Seungcheol's. That is, until something caught his ear.

Distant, frivolous splashes whipped Joshua’s head around to outside, beyond the porch and to the pond. 

“What’s the matter?”

Joshua didn’t answer, the sight of those stoic swans gliding on calm waters pulled at him. His every sense encapsulated, not a thought passed through to counter logic. Then, when Joshua was met with a pair of ruby black eyes, he took off.

A bad feeling bloomed into wicked anxieties, and the sky melted to grey. Muddy land was hardly able to support his immediate run, but he knew he just had to keep going.

Almost there… Just a couple more feet…!

His last step was swallowed by the ground and caused Joshua to slip as he reached for the water, ruining his white outfit. Still, desperately he crawled, and stoically, the swans watched.

Please— “Please!” 

He is finally able to meet the waters, where all his fears lie and reflect the broken sky. Heaven is not ready to be covered just yet, as an angel formed in this nature’s mirror.

On the silver surface he sees the flowing hair of whose scent he will never forget, sweet lips that tasted of perfection, and those placid eyes that have always seen Joshua entirely. The world out here doesn’t feel like his own, and those arms are yearning.

All the while, tender hands cling desperately to Joshua’s shoulders.

“Please.”

Joshua is turned around and faced with a pleading agony. Oh, how this face is so beautifully crafted, a perfect painting that captivates one in the moment. And yet, one ultimately moves on to the next picture in the gallery.

‘A voyage turned adrift,

From the tears of yesterday’s cries

Together, in the seam of a shrift,

Can happiness fruit from ‘goodbyes’?’

“Don’t leave me,” the man weakly whispered with a look, as if he had never known love at all. Maybe he hasn’t—, and that Joshua ached for. But it was at that moment he knew he could not give what already belonged to another: his heart, broken as it may be. It was fate that made Joshua’s arms slippery with mud from his prior fall, and thus Joshua slipped out of Seungcheol’s grasp, falling backwards into the pond.

The world turned a deep blue the further he sank. What a relief, like he was falling out of a life that was not his own. With his own new pair of eyes, Joshua just watched the glittering surface grow smaller with distance. And soon, delicate arms wrapped around him.

He knew who it was, he trusted this angel to catch his fall like he always has before, and he did. 

+++

Joshua woke slowly, peacefully, and with a clearer mind. Next to him rests Seungcheol, so deep in slumber, he doesn’t even stir when Joshua slips out of bed, gets dressed, and gently closes the bedroom door behind him. He didn’t bring many things to the house last night, so there is very little to remember when Joshua makes his departure down the grand hallway. 

Though, he feels the judgement from the large paintings hanging over him, to which he murmurs pointless apologies. He has only enough energy to curse the fates for not making himself a better man, he knows he failed the test, but it is one that brought him answers. 

He averts his gaze when he passes a maid. Onward he goes. The mansion feels so much larger alone. Is this how Seungcheol has always felt? The parlor—one of Seungcheol most used rooms— is cracked open when he walks by it, and beckons his feet to a halt. 

Joshua has been inside the room many times now, flashbacks of he and Seungcheol’s first intimacies come flooding to his thoughts, but now that he’s alone with a made up heart, he suddenly feels very alienated. He does not belong here and turns to exit, but on a nearby desk he spots some spare paper and pen to leave behind a cruel courtesy. Though, wouldn’t it have been worse if he were to say nothing at all?

Nobody stops him or speaks a single word when Joshua closes the one of the side doors behind him, even the iron gate swings swiftly with a loud locking sound when it slams shut, knowing he will never enter upon the home again. A cab will be arriving in ten minutes, so Joshua pulls out his phone and dials a number he has missed so much.

“Hello?”

“Wonwoo, hey. Um, are you busy? Can I buy you some coffee?”

Joshua hears shuffling of what he imagines comforters and pillows. “I dunno, I feel like absolute horseshit right now. I miss you though, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has, I’m sorry for that. I’ve just been… you know…”

“Life is at its finest these days, is it not?”

The sarcasm speaks so truthfully and pulls out a chuckle from the both of them. “Couldn’t agree more.”

“Where are you up to at this fine, early hour of the morning?”

Joshua checks his watch and reads 7:56 AM. “Shit, sorry. You should be resting, I’ll call you later—”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for a call from you? I’m awake, you’re obviously up and about, so lets talk and hopefully it will distract me from how fucking gross my insides feel. What’s going on?”

 Guilt gnaws further in Joshua’s gut, but he agrees. “I… don’t know what to do. About Seungcheol. I thought I loved him—could love him—but I don’t, and I don’t think I ever will.”

A long pause of Wonwoo taking in the words stretches through the line, and he sighs. “So, after everything, it’s come to this?” A low, perhaps even inappropriate, airy laugh comes from Wonwoo that does nothing to soften the blow. “That’s fucked, Josh. What happened to last year when you proclaimed to be head over heels for him? And loved how in love he was with Jeonghan? Now, you’re leaving the man who wants to—and can— give you everything, just to go back to your lying, cheating husband?” 

Joshua bites his tongue, because his will is too weak to web any kind of lie that can stroke his ego. “Wonwoo, I don’t know who I am without Jeonghan.”

“That’s no surprise. You two have been together since the dawn of time. And I’m not saying the love you two had can disappear overnight, but maybe you should learn what else there is out there.”

“It’s not that easy and you know it.”

“Yes, well, nothing in life is easy, but that doesn’t mean we should take the easy way out whenever we can.”

“What!? Going back to Jeonghan is not the ‘easy way out’! He is the one who betrayed our relationship and vows, I still haven’t the slightest clue on how to forgive him for that!”

“How did Seungcheol take it when you broke the news to him?”

Warm iron bleeds onto Joshua’s tongue and he realizes he has been biting his lip. “ …I wrote him something this morning. On my way out. I doubt he’ll call me or anything.”

Another sigh laden in disappointment muffles the call. “That… would destroy anyone. Though, I doubt there is even a right way to go about this. I feel for you, Josh, I really do.” Joshua accepts it, because he is the last person owed an apology. “The two of you have royally fucked up this man.”

“I know.”

“You better get involved in some charity or something, or you’re going to get some seriously bad karma. You probability will anyway.”

“I know.”

“Come over for dinner. I’m not gonna let you fall into a pity party and think you have to do this on your own. You’re going to own up to your actions before they get any heavier through time spent wallowing.”

Joshua stops his mindless wandering feet. “What? You—You actually want to be near me right now?”

“Case in point. We’re going to figure out what the fuck to do, and we’re gonna start with your kids.” Wonwoo reads the air well, he always has, and he reads the hesitation and confusion on Joshua’s side. “Really? You think distancing yourself from them was the right thing to do at times like these?”

“I admit, I have been distant. But they’re adults, and we’ve been talking—”

“But not communicating.”

Joshua’s patience is wearing thin as he finds himself at a loss for an explanation. “So, I’ve just been doing everything wrong, haven’t I?”

“What I’m saying is that you have an immense amount of pressure and complicated circumstances that anyone would crack under, and there’s no shame in that. It’s too much for a person to deal with on their own. You’re coming over for dinner so I can help you. Let me help you, Joshua.”

Thick, rolling silver clouds fill the sky above bringing Joshua back to a strange dream. Though now, the world doesn’t feel like it’s caving in on him.

“Okay.”

+++

Chapter Text

MARCH 1. 11:12

Two weeks; an eternity confined in a fortnight, and Junhui finally knows what it is he needs to do.

Since leaving, Junhui hasn’t been sleeping well, and the ASMR to sooth his racing mind just wasn’t cutting it. When he closed his eyes, he saw his wish in a dream: a life with Minghao, only to open them to a pitch black room. Eventually, though, sleep did take over, only to be woken by the sun glaring through Wonwoo and Mingyu’s heinous white living room curtains, dragging him into another day. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

Sizzling bacon lures Junhui further out of his couch-bed and he shuffles to join Wonwoo’s nephew, Chan, at the table.

“Morning, Gyu. Channie, when did you get here?”

“Just half an hour ago. I hitched a ride from university with Uncle Wonu.”

Junhui remembers yesterday, when Wonwoo was stepping out of the apartment as he and Mingyu were walking home. He said there was some extra grading that his TA forgot about and that he probably won’t be home that night. Junhui could see the disappointment and concern in Mingyu’s eyes, even though nothing was said— at least, not to Wonwoo. No, he waited until they cracked open a third round of hard ciders, to go on for the millionth time about how Wonwoo is working way too hard for his condition. Junhui totally agrees, of course, and he's delicately expressed his own concerns to Wonwoo. But the guy has his reasons— he doesn’t want his day-to-day life to change until it absolutely has to. And Junhui sympathizes. 

“Where is he?” Junhui asks.

Chan adverts his gaze to the steam plate of eggs, bacon and toast Mingyu just placed in front of him. “He’s not feeling well. He’ll probably be sleeping all day.”

A plate of food was also given to Junhui, and he naturally looks over at Mingyu, whose eyes remain glued to his own breakfast.

“Do you have work today?” Chan asks.

Junhui is okay with the subject change, though the topic of ‘work’ drifts his mind back to Minghao. “Not today, no.”

“Wait, today is Saturday…” Mingyu finally speaks, though rather delicately. “Is it, you know, that Saturday?”

“Yes.” Because, today is the day Junhui and Minghao will meet to discuss where their future stands together.

Mingyu’s eyes curiously dance from his breakfast to the outwardly calm Junhui, cautiously asking, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Junhui answers truthfully, “It’s alright.”

While he prepares for his day, young Chan giggles and cracks jokes with Mingyu, visits Wonwoo upstairs, snacks on some fruit to lighten his big breakfast. In a dash of time, Junhui can find any more excuses to keep him from walking out that door.

Mingyu has noticed such worries and approaches Junhui as he is putting on his shoes.

“It’s going to be okay. I may not have the strength to apply such advice, but you’re strong, Junhui. You know I don’t pick sides—“

“Yeah, sure.” Junhui cuts in with a laugh.

“Really, I love you both. Now, I don’t pick sides, ” he repeats sarcastically, “but if Minghao doesn't try to compromise, then neither should you.”

Junhui appreciates any sort of advice, especially from this amazing man who he gets to call his friend. “Thank you. For everything.” Here, Junhui was able to find the strength to see clearly what he wants.

“You would do it for me. Oh, Wonwoo wishes you good luck, too.”

“God, I adore you. See ya.”

Junhui hops on his moped and speeds out of the parking lot. The first thing he thinks during his drive is ‘What a beautiful day’ . Clear skies kiss the world of spring, bringing out all the beauty this city could offer. It almost feels mocking to Junhui, who is preparing for a conversation that could be, well, life changing.

“Heaven loves to mock us mortals."

This was something Minghao said once, during one of their dates at an art gallery. They were in the section of old European pieces, every wall plastered with either angelic punishments or beautiful deaths. Dramatics in the purest, and impurest, of forms. Of course Minghao loves that stuff.

“Come again?”

Minghao smiles and beckons for Junhui. “Look, do you see it?”

Junhui leans in and analyzes the painting further. “I see four people dancing to whatever tune the old man is playing. There’s two babies watching, and some angels in the sky.”

“You don’t see the beautiful, painful irony? Those people personify poverty, labour, wealth, and pleasure. And they’re dancing to that man's music—who has already lived most of his life—of time. That’s what the piece is called, ‘A Dance to the Music of Time’ by Nicolas Poussin. It’s basically about life’s uncontrollable brevity, and how fleeting everything is, like the bubbles in that baby’s hand, and the hourglass in that one’s.”

Junhui is in awe. Minghao searches for depth in the 2-D, and beauty in the sadness. He is someone who has the eye to show Junhui all the marvels in life.

“Once, I dreamed of seeing the originals of these paintings.” Minghao says distantly, almost in a whisper.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, you know how things go. I never sought out any lavish trips during school breaks, didn’t take any gap years, then got this job right out of college. Time goes by, just as this painting shows so elegantly.”

Junhui hasn’t told anyone, but that’s when he had the idea that he and Minghao should take a trip together. They’ll start close by, to somewhere familiar, like China. Then over the holiday’s, Junhui would take him to the ‘Wallace Collection’ in London to see every authentic brush stroke of this painting with his own eyes. If Minghao can open up Junhui’s world, then Junhui will show him what all there is outside. At least, that was the plan. Junhui’s plan.

+++

Deep in a park, there is a nice area where Minghao has taken Junhui once for a simple romantic rendezvous. It is secluded, straying off trail, enough  to make one forget they’re in the epicenter of a bustling city, and susceptible to whatever the skies may forecast. A beautiful day means a beautiful spot.That is where they meet, at noon.

12:06

Junhui would be lying if he said nerves didn’t slow his stride to a lethargic pace. He knew Minghao would already be there, waiting for him. Yet, his already anxious heart still manages to skip a beat as he breaks through the thin bushes.

‘Love,’ he almost calls out, but refrains as he approaches Minghao, who waits idly on his green picnic blanket. Junhui approaches slowly, cautiously, like one would for a scared kitten that could make a run for it at any second. That’s how it feels sometimes when Junhui wants to talk about certain things with Minghao. 

A lifetime ago, when they were first together, Minghao was always the one who started the ‘important conversation’— how they would make their relationship work when Junhui was done studying in Korea and went back to China, how they would last through college, the pros and cons of the couple living in a city vs. the countryside, and what kind of house would be perfect for just the two of them.

Just the two of us…

That was then, this is now.

Minghao has brought himself to stand by the time Junhui makes it to the edge of the blanket. And the two embrace. They have had little to no contact over the past two weeks, including at work—in this busy season of spring/summer planning, they were able to drown themselves in projects and paperwork. So, this first touch is as wanted as afflicted as it is craved.

God, how Junhui has missed these arms. They feel just as much of home as they did when Minghao first held him. 

“I’ve missed you.” Whispers Minghao into Jun’s ear.

“Me too.” Junhui returns. “So, so much.” 

After a few more breaths, they separate and make way to the blanket. “So…” Minghao trails off.

“So…?” How does one even start such a conversation? They know better than to beat around the bush. “Minghao, I—”

“No, wait, let me look at you.”

Junhui complies and silently stares back. “Um, I—”

“SHH.”

“Hao.”

“Jun, please.”

He almost wants to laugh and embrace that instinct to further tease, but then Junhui becomes fixated on the sadness in Minghao’s eyes as he paints over Junhui’s body. Now that he is closer, Junhui can see the crack in Minghao’s stoicism; his boring eyes reflect the very anxieties that rumble Junhui. 

“Hao, you’re searching for something I can just tell you with my words.”

“But, what if I’m not ready to hear it?”

Junhui smiles and grabs hold of Minghao’s balled up fists. “I know you’re not, maybe you never will be, and that’s okay.”

“Now just hold on a minute, that’s not how this is going to go. I’m not gonna let you get swept away by your own assumptions.”

In the breeze, Junhui hears a distant memory: ‘...’

“No, love. You and both know it’s a lot more than that…”

Though separated by an ocean, Junhui didn’t think autumn could be so different here than back home in China. The air is still crisp, just in a different genre . The leaves darken with withering plans in their transition from a vibrant summer to a soon to be frozen winter. The feel is still cool, just with gives and takes of energies that reminds Junhui just how far he is from home. Minghao loves talking about energy and stuff like that, and says that it’s to no surprise, hearing about the differences in the same season here versus there. In all these changes, Junhui finds himself breathless to the beauties of nature. It is like a film has been casted over the world, Junhui cannot find a single fault. Then again, people say this is what happens when one falls in love.

“Almost ready for your ‘date’?” Teases Junhui’s host brother, Mingyu, poking and prodding as Junhui tries to fix his hair in the mirror. It has become quite the unruly mop, and he curses himself for not thinking about a haircut before this very moment.

“It’s not a date.”

“Sure.”

“Outside of school and our group of friends, you and Wonwoo always hang out alone. I do not call you guys ‘dating’.”

Wonwoo giggles and repeats back, with slight correction to Junhui’s grammar, “ ‘I don’t say you guys are ‘going out on dates.’ That’s a bit more correct. But no, it is most definitely different, my guy. You think Minghao is hot—don’t deny—and he thinks you’re hot. Two agreeable hotties hanging out. Simple as that.”

Junhui shrinks and grumbles down the hall to his bedroom. “...does not think I’m h-hot…”

“He does. He told me.”

“You think Mingyu is hot.”

“I think all my friends are hot, now stop trying to wiggle out of this.”

Junhui tilts his head innocently. “I’m not wiggling? Anyway, it’s not a date.”

That was in the early stages of their feelings for each other, before such feelings grew too strong to be anywhere else but in each other’s arms. 

Minghao met Junhui at the convenient store near their school, then, together they hopped on a bus that drove them an hour south to an apple orchard. Fifteen minutes after they had broken from the city to the more rural landscape, Junhui decided he loved Korea’s countryside. The whole bus ride, their conversations drift between Korean and Mandarin making the hour long trip feel like twenty minutes.

When they approach the gates of the farm, Junhui’s eyes widen in adoration.

“My moms have been taking me here since, like, forever. I knew you’d love it.”

“I do.”

Junhui insists on paying their admission, and Minghao gets him back by surprising Junhui with an apple cider doughnut he was eyeballing earlier. Junhui relished in the warm, comforting sweetness, then blushed when Minghao called him cute.

‘Maybe he does think I’m… no way.’

Their baskets are half full of apples when Junhui spots an adorable couple teasing and playing around the fruitful trees. Junhui has a thought, curious about what it’s like to be that comfortable with a romantic partner. He wonders if, some day, he and Minghao could ever get that close. He follows them with his gaze and a warmed heart. He looks to see if Minghao has noticed, and he does! For a moment, Junhui hopes Minghao could be thinking the same thing he is, about their adorable intimacy.

Time is filled with Minghao and Junhui’s laughter, and the next thing that catches Junhui’s attention is a young pair of siblings just out of their toddler years. Twins, he guesses, a boy and a girl, based on not just their marching outfits but their similar looks.

“How cute are they?”

Minghao shrugs his shoulders, hardly batting his oh so focused eye. “Let’s go over to the Granny Smith apple trees next. Maybe we can get the guys to help bake a pie.”

Junhui nods and looks back at the kids once more before they leave.

“Do you have any siblings?”

Minghao shakes his head. “You?”

“Yeah, a little brother. He’s the cutest thing ever, but now he’s in middle school and hates when I coddle him. I can’t help it though! Gosh, I just love kids.”

Minghao softly smiles. “That’s nice. Can I see a picture of him?” All Junhui has to do is turn on his phone to show his screensaver, an adorable selfie the brothers took during Junhui’s last dinner in China before he left for study abroad in Korea. “Aw, he really is adorable, even for a middle schooler.”

“He’s the best.”

“So, I take it you like kids?”

Junhui nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love kids. Last summer, I volunteered at this summer camp and I realized how much I like working with children. It made me realize that maybe I wanna be a teacher someday. And when I have my own family, I would love to have two or three.”

Minghao jumps for an apple just above his head, successfully picking it and earning a little applause from Junhui. “You’d be a great teacher. You certainly have the patience for it, and you’re super sweet and charismatic.”

That really gets Jun’s heart rate going, and it takes a lot to keep his cool. “Th–Thanks. Do you like kids?”

Minghao shrugs, scanning the other branches all around. “Mmmm, kids are alright, I guess. I’d love to meet your brother someday though.”

“That’d be fun. I think the two of you would get along. So, would you want kids?”

Just then, Junhui sees the same little sibling duo swing around the trees, laughing and playfully running away from the couple from earlier. Each parent catches up easily with either child and scoops them up in their arms. 

Oh, they must be a family…

“No, I don’t think I would. Honestly, I don’t even know if I’d ever want to get married.”

Junhui’s heart sinks, and he feels so foolish for being so affected. He hides his fool hearted disappointment by being distracted by an apple, picking it. 

“I haven’t admitted it before, and I feel bad for even thinking about that because isn’t marriage supposed to be something everyone wants?”

Genuinely, Junhui turns around and grabs hold of Minghao’s hand. “Don’t feel bad. One person’s idea of happiness or success in life doesn’t mean it’ll bring the same values to everyone.”

“You… You’re not judging me? Mingyu looked at me like I was a monster when I told him I might not want kids.”

“Mingyu is a dummy. You’re smart. Anyways, I doubt he really even cares.”

“Really? Do, um, do you care? You don’t think I’m, you know…heartless?”

It was an insecurity Minghao has been called by angry people in response to his stoic demeanor and sass he’s always got in his back pocket. Junhui learns that there’s always a way under even the toughest of skin.

“You’re anything but heartless.” Junhui squeezes Minghao’s hands and glances down at his perfect lips. He gulps. “And no, I don’t. I think that’s just fine.”

It was the first lie Junhui ever told Minghao, and one he had forgotten about until recently. They were just kids then, how were they expected to be sure about the things they want out of life? How was he supposed to know that that crush would blossom into the love of his life? Junhui’s values never changed, who is he to expect these years would change Minghao? That is where he went wrong, and he knows it.

Back in the park, laying atop the soft picnic blanket, Junhui and Minghao stare at the bright blue sky between the leaves of the trees overhead.

“I don’t want you out of my life. But— I know it’s selfish, but if I can’t have you entirely…”

Junhui breathes with the wind, smelling spring on its way. “I know. I feel the same.”

No more lying… No more sacrifices. Too much of that will consume you entirely.

“I have never loved anything, or anyone, more than I love you. Is that really not enough?”

 “No.” Admitting the truth will be one of the hardest things Junhui has ever done. “You’ve destroyed me and put me back together. You’ve shown me every single complicated, dizzying, and wonderful emotion that fills the word ‘love’. You are a part of me as much as I am a part of you, and that’s the fire in my life I once thought I never deserved.”

For several moments, Minghao is silent, and Junhui surrenders his train of thought to the sky.

“Your words are too beautiful for me. After everything, this is how it all ends?”

Junhui hears the emotion shake Minghao’s strong voice, and feels the pain in his stare. He breaks from the sky to roll over on his side, facing his love. Delicately, he raises his hands to cup Minghao’s clenched jaw, his thumb strokes that trembling lip, and he kisses him until their thoughts are lulled away.

They spend the rest of daylight together in the quiet heartache of each other’s arms. When the air becomes too brittle, and evening paints oranges and purples along the sky, they go back home and spend one last evening together.

+++

Chapter Text

Even an ounce of determination to a hopeless man is like finding water in a desert. 

Jeonghan may not know exactly what to say, or if this conversation alone will be enough to start winning the trust of his family back, but he will take this step with a drive like nothing he has felt before.

Now, as his thumb hovers over the green call button on his phone screen, he prays his son will pick up.

Ring…

Ring…

Ri— “Father?”

Immediately, Jeonghan’s heart swells at the sound of his sweet boy’s voice. “Seungkwan? Hey baby.” He waits for Seungkwan to say something, but the silence lingers on. He could ask how he is, or what he’s doing today, but he isn't cruel or ignorant enough to instigate such a charade. “So, um, I just wanted to say thank you for picking up and—if you are willing to lend an ear—I’d like to apologize for…well, everything. I can’t imagine there to be a good way in finding out what happened between your dad and—”

“It was excruciating. The way everyone knew while I was kept in the dark having no idea what was happening.”

“I can only imagine, and I’m sorry. Things could have been handled better. I could have been better.”

“The way you could have been better is if you were actually here. But you ran away like a coward.”

“ …Your dad couldn’t even look at me. I—no. I won’t make excuses.” Jeonghan nods to himself, because Seungkwan is right. It’s hard, but he won’t crumple under the disappointment, not anymore. “I love you and your brother more than anything in the world, and I am going to show you that I will do better. I don’t expect you to believe it, but over time, you will see.”

“ … I thought you loved dad, too.”

“I do—”

“But then you betrayed him… How could you? You push him away when you’re at a low, and now he’s looking for your love in someone else.”

Jeonghan’s heart starts racing, utterly mortified and frozen with fear. Hardly a whisper is able to fall from his lips. “How did you…?”

“I’ve grown up, father. Of course I know about Seungcheol, dad, and you. I’ve learned something from all this, too, and it’s how to figure out what the hell is going on. Everyone may think I’m too delicate to handle the hard shit in life, but I won’t be left out anymore.”

When did his voice get so rough? So hard like a hammer whose sole mission is to beat the world down. 

“I’m sorry.” Jeonghan knew there could be no right thing for him to say, but now that he’s in the moment his entire being just feels so wrong. “I never once thought you couldn’t handle something, but I never wanted you to have to. And now I see what a mistake that was, because you still ended up drowning in all the pain I tried to hide from you.”

“Nothing should have been hidden in the first place.”

“And it never will again. Seungkwan, you and Vernon will always be my precious babies. To be human is to make mistakes, to be a good person is to learn from them and do better. God, I am trying so hard to be good, and a mistake I made is not seeing you as the man you are becoming.”

Seungkwan doesn’t speak, but through the silence Jeonghan can feel his words reaching his son. If his heart were to be closed off, Jeonghan will never stop pleading for it to open.

“I just—I can’t forgive you. I’m not ready.” His voice, small and shaken with emotion.

“That’s okay, baby, I can accept and understand that. You’ve pushed yourself enough, you don’t need to with me. I will always love you no matter what, and I will do whatever it takes to show you. It’s okay to take your time, I will be here when you are ready.”

Simply, he whispers, “Okay.” It’s more than Jeonghan could have ever asked for.

“I’m sorry. Well, I’ll let you go. I’m sure you have lots to do, so have a good day.” Jeonghan does not want to end the call, but he feels his son may be approaching his limit.

“Yeah. Okay, um—”

“Wait, Seungkwan, I just need to ask you one more thing. Please, consider talking to your brother? This isn’t his fault, it’s ours.”

Seungkwan doesn’t respond with anything other than a long pause, followed by a, “Bye, father.”

“Bye, honey. I love you.”

+++

MARCH 8. 12:12.

‘ …Please leave a message after the beep…’

It was the third time Jeonghan called his husband’s phone, and the third time it went straight to voicemail. So, he decides to leave one, even though it will probably be ignored, because the last thing Joshua deserves is to feel ambushed by what he’s about to do.

‘BEEP’

“Hey, Josh. Um, I just wanted you to know that I plan on stopping by the house this afternoon around two. Sorry if it’s an inconvenience, but this step will never be easy no matter how we go about it. We need to talk eventually… I miss you. So, I guess I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up and falls back onto his bed like a ragdoll.

Joshua… am I really going to see you soon…?

Jeonghan has drifted along the winds of passivity for long enough. It’s easy to wallow and give up, he knows from experience, but Jeonghan has found the strength to open his eyes and look for that path of hope. Just maybe the love he lost is down that path, and that thought alone is enough to keep Jeonghan driving straight. 

In his car, he rides the distant yet familiar road he has missed so terribly. At a crossroad, he can either continue further along the busy road, or take a more secluded way up the hill cutting right through his neighborhood. Since it has been some time, Jeonghan switches on his blinker and turns right. Under the trees he slowly drives on, passing by the park that knows his family well. From a mix of both adrenaline and anxiety, Jeonghan’s body begins to tremble. So much has changed in the three months since he last drove through these parts.

Joshua’s car isn’t in the driveway when Jeonghan pulls in, something he was partially suspecting. He could turn around now, but then the ounce of courage driving him will dissipate. For Jeonghan it is now or never, so now he must wait.

Luckily, the weather is on his side today. Though the air is still cool, midday sunshine and blue skies add a freshness Jeonghan has been craving since his recent departure from reclusivity. 

Yes, it is a nice day, but the cold still seeps easily into Jeonghan’s bones, so he wraps his scarf around his neck an extra time and buttons up his jacket. Joshua used to coo about how Jeonghan is always the last person to unbundle in the changing of seasons. God, his heart aches. 

Jeonghan pulls out a book Minghao recommended, The Masquerade by Mike Fu, in claims of Jeonghan being able to identify with the main character. Apparently, he is someone who drifts through life, too, and is easily influenced by outside forces to guide his path. To break such a habit seems to require big steps rather than baby ones, Jeonghan finds. So, here he is, sitting on the doorstep of the dream home Joshua bought for him years ago.

As time goes by, Jeonghan falls in and out between the world around him and his book. It is not often, for theirs is a quiet neighborhood, but when an engine goes by, Jeonghan eagerly snaps his head up. By the fourth time in a span of almost two hours, he slowly rises to stand as a familiar car pulls in.

Beyond that, Jeonghan doesn't move, instead awaiting Joshua as he slowly parks and gets out of his car. Under his puffer jacket, Jeonghan’s chest rises and falls heavily to match the nearly painful rhythm of his beating heart.

Joshua, whose expression is as readable as a foreign article about molecular chemistry, stares back at him and leaves more than several feet of space between himself and Jeonghan.

“Hey,” Jeonghan finally manages to squeak, “Um, how are you—”

“Why are you here?” Joshua’s voice isn’t harsh or accusing, just hollow and tired.

“I left you a voicemail.”

“Yes, I heard. So… why ?”

A question desperate for too many answers, the ambiguity couldn’t be helped. Jeonghan takes a big breath in, then out. “I’m here because I am still as deeply in love with you as when you said ‘I do’ at the altar.”

In his silence the world stills, then there’s Jeonghan’s heart pounding out of his chest. He hasn’t been in such close proximity to Joshua in so long, but looking into his eyes makes him feel like there’s an ocean of distance between them. 

“You’re cold. I know you are.” Joshua finally says. “Let’s go inside and talk. Vernon shouldn’t be home for a while.”

Jeonghan feels a bit bad about the relief from hearing their kid isn't home, but this first conversation needs to be just between them. He follows Joshua into their home, takes off his shoes, and tries not to appear as tense as he feels sitting on the sofa opposite Joshua. 

“That was quite the statement back there. You’ve always had such a way with words, Jeonghan. You know exactly what to say, how to say it while somehow dancing around the truth without technically lying. It’s amazing, and never ceases to terrify me. So please, without evading an ounce of reality because you owe me that much, why did you do it?”

By the way Joshua is staring at him, countless words and thoughts bubble to the surface, but they all catch on the lump of anxiety in Jeonghan’s throat. He has worked through days of mental preparation to answer this very question, practicing only with Minghao, but he still feels terrified. “I’m seeing a psychiatrist. Minghao helped me find one.” 

Joshua merely nods, “I’m glad to hear that.” Then waits patiently for Jeonghan to continue. 

“Joshua, I need to tell you something and—maybe you already knew because you’re so smart—but, um, have you ever heard of ‘Bipolar Disorder’?” Then, there’s a sudden crack through Joshua’s calm, stoic expression that amps up Jeonghan’s nerves all the more. It’s not an easy thing to talk about, and he hasn’t the slightest clue in how Joshua will react. He has always been more open minded than others when it comes to mental health… but what if Joshua thinks Jeonghan is using this as an excuse? 

“Since seeing my psychiatrist, I have been working on coming to terms about how the emotions I feel take over my life to where I can’t think rationally. I have developed unhealthy coping mechanisms, and I can act quite impulsively as a result. But then when I am happy, it’s as if I can take on the world, and when I feel sad, it is that world that is crushing me down. It takes everything in me to at least try and stand tall, and it doesn’t always work. Those are just some of the things I have come to discover with my recent diagnosis. And after hearing more about it, it explains a lot of why I am the way I am. I have a habit of hiding when I am not doing okay, and back then, that winter when it all happened, my sadness was all consuming… I wasn’t doing okay, Joshua.” Jeonghan looks down, because after all his ‘mental preparation’ and exercises he has done with Minghao, he still can look his love in the eye when revealing this next layer of truth. “I was in a particularly deep low and was having some dark thoughts. One night, honestly, I acted on them. But, that man was there. And he stopped me.”

Jeonghan finds the courage to look up and is immediately evoked with the burn of tears when he sees Joshua’s own quivering lip and red, glossy eyes.

“It was a long time ago, and I’m ok—well, trying to be, and it’s easier now that I’m able to face that part of myself… Hey, why are you crying?”

A dry sob escapes from Joshua’s lips, unable to hold in the pain buried under forgotten, poorly healed scar tissue. Jeonghan cannot stop himself from running to his side if it means he could provide even just a fraction of comfort.

“Shua, I’m fine, it’s alright. I would never do that now—”

“No! I know exactly what year you’re talking about, and what night you felt your worst! Everything was changing—my job, the cafe, our boys acting out— and we couldn’t so much as look at each other without getting into some awful fight! We were so unhappy, but, deep down… I knew it was worse for you. The pain, it stuck and weighed you down, and through it all, I was complacent in watching you fall.” Through the blurriness of his own vision and Joshua’s falling tears, Jeonghan sees the man lost in confession. “All those walks you went on, I half imagined what it’d be like if you never came back. But, I would have never actually thought—to hear that there could have been a time when—! I… I might as well have been the one who pushed you off the edge myself!”

When you cut into a scar, there is pain alongside numbness. “I never knew all of that, how you felt. Wow, we were really fooling ourselves thinking we fixed that part of our lives, huh?” Oddly enough, Jeonghan does not feel any animosity from hearing those words. Then again, perhaps it’s the lingering inferiority complex.

“I think that’s something we both knew but just couldn’t admit. It was too hard. You can’t paint over a crumbling house and declare it fixed. For years, our foundation has been rotting. And we just kept painting pretty colors over the cracks. Jeonghan, what is that teaching our sons? What is any of this doing except hurting our family?”

Then, a thought occurs. One Jeonghan has never allowed himself to think until now. “What if… that’s because we were never truly good for each other?”

It was as much of a bullet to the chest for Jeonghan to say as it was for Joshua to hear. 

“ …What?”

“I mean, think about it. We hurt each other and then cover it up with sex, trying to forget all of the bad as soon as possible. We’ve been in that cycle since our first fight sophomore year of high school, and over time have turned a blind eye to the elaborate tower of baggage we built, together, as partners. All that was needed was one little ding for it to come crashing down. But it wasn’t something little that did it, it was my biggest mistake. I ruined us and because of that, our tower of facades fell, and dragged people we love into its rumble.” 

“No.” Joshua shakes his head and looks up at Jeonghan in a fury. “You don’t get to play the martyr in all this. What if I were to say, ‘Yes, you’re right, Jeonghan. You did ruin us’? If I were to agree, would you really just…”

I’m doing it again , Jeonghan thinks as he feels the reins slip from his fingertips. The bad habit is so easy to fall into, he can float away right now and let anyone else decide how his life should go. His nature tells him to close his eyes, but his heart has gotten stronger. Then again, how does he stop when he’s hurting the man he loves?

“ …roll over and accept that that’s it with us? I thought you were ready to try and actually face the hard things, not run away! Fuck, Jeonghan, do you even care about what’s going on between me and Seung—”

“Yes!” Jeonghan finally snaps. “Of course I do. I told you I love you, didn’t I? I care! I’m ready to be strong!”

“Then, why are you so quick to give up?”

“I’m not! I mean… Hell, you know it’s not that easy.” Jeonghan stands and walks to the window overlooking the city landscape. “I wasn’t trying to give up, but—but—what if it’s true and we’re both too blinded by history to see it?” This view is one of the reasons he fell in love with this house. One can see everything from this distance, so minuscule like tiny dots of paint on a canvas, leaving the family to their own private island. Jeonghan would often stare out this window when he gets overwhelmed and is reminded that his problems don’t have to be so big. Because from the other end of his gaze, to those toy-like buildings and tiny dot-people, Jeonghan is just one little life, too.

Jeonghan shakes his head. “ You left me . You kicked me out, yet that’s something I could never blame you for. We needed space and we took it, but—and please, answer me honestly, Joshua, and I’m sorry if I have no right asking such a thing— if I didn’t come here today begging for you to take me back, would you have ever tried for ‘us’ again?” Jeonghan sees he hit a nerve and stands firmly, painfully curious, in his shaky ground.  

Joshua opens his mouth, but words fail him. Jeonghan takes that as his answer.

“I see. I guess if you need more time, then I can understand that, Joshua. And if you want to think about all that I said, I understand that, too. Just know, if we maybe aren't right together, then—” 

“Jeonghan.”

It’s only then when he realizes that Joshua has been trying to get his attention, but Jeonghan was swept up in his own words. Jeonghan turns from the window and waits.

“I ended things with him.”

It doesn’t take even a moment for Jenoghan to know who Joshua was talking about, but still he asks in a small voice, “What?”

“I ended the relationship I had with Seungcheol.”

The name alone acts as a spell that stops Jeonghan’s train of thought in its tracks. Joshua wants to ask why so badly, but it is another grey area. He suppresses the memory of that phone call, all the godforsaken guilt that lingers, and focuses on Joshua’s words.

“I did it because, honestly, I’ve never stopped looking for you in my life.”

Slowly, Jeonghan turns his head back to the cityscape outside. “I don’t deserve this. Fuck, I feel so twisted and torn because I know what I did is unforgivable and often ends merriages, but then the selfish side of me that refuses to let you go is so—so—!”

Jeonghan feels a soft touch lightly caress his forearm, followed by the presence of his love behind him. He can’t bring himself to turn around when such a simple touch breaks him down.

“I’m sorry, Joshua. I’m so god damn sorry. You and the boys are the greatest thing that has ever happened in my life, and I’m sorry that I’m not willing to let that go. I never wanted to hurt you—fuck, that’s what they all say, isn’t it? Because of that, how can I promise that I won’t make you cry again?”

Joshua’s large, glossy eyes dart between Jeonghan’s. “It’s not a perfect world, Jeonghan. No one can make such promises, and that is to be human. Besides, you’re the one who is crying.”

Jeonghan realizes it is true, hot tears slide his cheek with no abate.“But—”

“No,” Joshua says, calmly, “it’s okay. It wasn’t just you, and I see that now. I probably always have, but now I can accept everything, as long as you accept everything that has happened is not all your fault.”

Jeonghan shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know why, but still he begs, “Please…”

“Everyone is hurt, but to stop the pain is to forgive, and how can I forgive you if you don’t give yourself even an ounce of grace? We are too essential to the core of our beings to say what we have was never right. Maybe we strayed off path a little, Hannie, but if we try to learn from each other this time, we could fix things. We could fix us.”

“I’ve hurt you, Josh.”

“And I’ve hurt you.”

To be at a stand still is to have a heart pumped full of confusion stuck in your throat. Neither knows what to say. More specifically, what should be said or, if anything should be said at all. That’s the trouble with love and agony falling into the same equation, as they both have long since lost their way in knowing what may hurt the other. And maintaining the pretense of smiling through such circumstances has become an old habit, a sad art.

But now, taking in his husband’s sudden desperation, Jeonghan wonders,  “Joshua… Do you still love me?”

To which Joshua softly answers, “Of course.”

“After everything we’ve done to each other?”

“Yes. After and despite it all. I’d be lying if, in these recent months, I hated myself for that fact and tried to replace my love for you with hate. But,” Joshua risks sliding his fingers down to delicately wrap around Jeonghan’s wrist, “seeing you now, being near you… touching you… I don’t curse myself anymore. I don’t feel weak anymore now that I am by the light of my world.”

Jeonghan lets himself be embraced, a baby step to Joshua’s wish of grace. “No matter how many times I apologize, no matter how many promises I swear to you today, it all means nothing. I need to prove my love to you and show you that I won’t ever hurt you again. With that I need time, and to beg you for the trust needed to give me such.”

Anticipation holds itself in silence, stretched until Joshua says, “Alright. I can do that, not only because I hear the change and sincerity in your voice, but I can feel it.” Joshua squeezes Jeonghan’s wrists and finally turns him around so they can face each other. “I agree and give you my trust back because I know you will never do something like this to me again, or to our family.”

When a person finds that they will lose everything considered important, the world around them becomes nothing until what they love most is back. Now, Jeonghan considers himself one of the lucky ones who was able to obtain what was lost and finally be able to cherish it the way he always should have been.

“I will prove myself in any way you need me to. I still have so much love I want to shower you with— to return the ease and brightness you have granted me.”

“To work and to grow so we can get to a day where we are able to make each other smile like we used to. That is all I want, for us to do this together and entirely equally.” 

No longer does the payment of pain weigh down on gravity to keep them apart. In a breath, Jeonghan’s air is whisked away by the lips of his love, best friend, and husband.

+++

There, in his complacency, he sits. His once soft face has since frozen over like a statue, stoicism is the result of where his heart led him.

There, in his sitting, he thinks. His eyes are blurry with a head full of mess, thoughts racing towards runaway ‘what if’s’. 

A chest full of led weighs him down to drown. Seungcheol could spend his days wondering how he got here, what very moves lead him down this path, but it's a pointless play. He should have seen it coming when the truth smacked him in the face time and time again. Everyone’s the fool who should have been able to outsmart their own denial, until it is you who has to outsmart the very thing your own brain prettily crafts to keep the ugly truths out of your own little world.

Seungcheol was too ignorant, living in that lavishly fabricated bliss. He didn’t know it was the end until he was looking back on ‘what was’. Now, here he is on his throne atop an empire and as alone as any Greek tragedy. 

MARCH 15. 00:00. REFLECTIONS.

Because it is one of the rare evenings where one can see stars from the city, Seungcheol dragged his dear friend out onto the terrace for them to enjoy their last few rounds of drinks. It’s been so long since the two have hung out, Jihoon jumped at the opportunity of Seungcheol’s energy upturn, though considered only miniscule, and invited himself over to Seungcheol’s home for an emergency catch up session. That was hours ago, and now they have since lost track of what round they are at, rather choosing to focus their degenerating brain power on each other’s company instead of some silly number.

“Wait, so you and Mingyu are still friends?”

“Yep.”

“Seriously? Not just ‘friendly’ ?”

Jihoon tilts his head. “Is there a difference?”

“Of course there is!” Seungcheol scoffs. “Friends hang out with each other by choice. Being friendly has levels, from distant waves if you make eye contact at the grocery store, to engaging forced small talk at a party you two happen to both be attending. But generally, it’s all mostly a farce.”

“Well, considering how I, by choice, went with Mingyu to one of Attacca University’s volleyball games last week, I’d say we’re friends.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes skeptically. “Interesting…”

“It’s really not. There’s a few ex’s I’m friends with, and Mingyu happened to end up being one of them. It was a very cordial break up, Cheol, we both had different focuses.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right. Like, a focus of yours was—alongside the relationship itself—on work.  His was solely on Wonwoo.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes and slumps further into his wooden patio chair. “He’s sick, asshole. Please, be more tasteless.”

“Hey, there are always multiple layers to a story. The truth is the asshole here, not me.”

“Yeah, well, they can do what they want. It’s not my problem anymore to worry about all those ‘layers’.” To that, the two cheers and finish off their cup that Jihoon quickly tips their blender of frozen margarita into their glasses. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol may be inebriated, but his intuition is anything but slow. “Depends.”

“We don’t have to get too into it, but—”

“Yeah, I was wondering when you’d ask about that.” Seungcheol upturns his glass and closes his eyes to enjoy the sweet, tangy tequila. 

Jihoon sets his drink on the coaster and stares his friend dead in the eye. “Cheol, this shit is too heavy to internalize.”

“I’m not ready yet, okay? It’s hardly been two weeks since Joshua dumped my ass, and even less since I heard he went back to Jeonghan. I—” Seungcheol tries to blink back the stinging in his eyes, but the tears are already on their way. “Fuck… I’m such a fucking fool, Jihoon. I’m a grown ass man who’s too old for this shit. How could I let myself be put into this situation?”

Jihoon frowns and reaches over to place a comforting hand atop Seungcheol’s. “In one way or another, a lot of people have had some kind of mishap with a married person. You just happened to have yours a bit later in life, and to two married people, married to each other… Um, but hey, they say thirty-six is the new twenty-seven.”

Seungcheol half scoffs half chuckles. “Who says that?”

“I don’t know. I think I heard Minghao say something like that to make himself feel younger, the damn diva. But, this also isn’t some ridiculous ‘married-man’ fling you go through in your twenties. This was a twisted, fucked up game a married couple dragged you into. The intensity of it all was so deep and consuming, of course you would call it love, but—”

“But I did love them. I still do.” In one way, hearing another person voice Seungcheol’s pain is comforting, it is nice to feel understood. Then, Seungcheol is reminded just how deep he is still in this hole he dug.

“Of course you do, I’m sorry. It would be inhuman not to because it is still such a fresh wound. Honestly, you may say that you’re too old for this but, in another light, thank god you’re not having to deal with this as some kid. As the man you are, you have the strength and wisdom to bounce back from this.”

“I dunno. I really feel like a kid right now who’s nowhere near any sort of ‘bouncing’. ”

“Fine, that is a valid emotion to be feeling, grieving is healthy. But as someone who lives outside of that brain of yours, you are so fucking strong, Cheol, and I am very proud of you.”

Seungcheol is no stranger to Jihoon’s stern, drunken affections. However right now, he can’t help but find himself a bit caught off guard. “Wh–What is there to be proud about? I lost them both, not even achieving that stupid ass ‘friendly’ bullshit relationship. None of the pain was worth it. Nothing was worth all of this.”

He averts his eyes from Jihoon’s pitying ones, and dives in for another gulp.

“Well, I guess that I’m just proud you are sitting with me, here, right now, putting up with my hassling and expressing yourself in any way you can.”

Faintly, Seungcheol starts to hear the echoes of Jeonghan’s voice. “Thank you. It’s a bit hard to hear, if I’m being frank, but I really appreciate it. I appreciate you, Jihoon, always.”

“I know, buddy.”

Seungcheol feels better, his voice less shaky. Jihoon sure knows how to be a hard ass cold as stone, but then Seungchol blinks and is reminded how simply wonderful his dear friend is. “Thank you for being here. I was hesitant at first, but I’m really glad to see you.” Despite the weight in his chest, a small smile brushes Seungcheol’s lips and he lets out a heavy sigh. Months of memories swell around his brain, but it’s more bearable having a friend around. “You know, I can’t help but wonder where I’d be right now if I were to have just listened? God, can you imagine all the time and pain I would have saved myself?”

Jihoon tilts his head. “Sure, but a situation like this has its fair share of difficulties. What did I say before? Give yourself some grace, because there is a lot but no one is able to predict the future.”

“Yes, and no. The reality is that I should have known how it would end, because Jeonghan basically told me himself…”

Jihoon’s brows furrow slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, that’s right, because I never told you about how that last phone call with Jeonghan went. I never told anyone…”

FEBRUARY 7. 00:23. THE CALL.

“I suspected, but now it’s just been proven. It was one of the first things I thought about when he left me: What better excuse than my infidelity to give Seungcheol and Joshua to fuck?”

A disgust dirty as the cruel crass sentence spoken bores into Seungcheol’s bleeding heart. Seungcheol couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he had to repeat Jeonghan’s cruel words multiple times to make sure he got it right. “…Why— How could you say that?”

“Am I wrong?” If any words come to Seungcheol’s mind, they run away and leave behind the taste of an ugly lie. “And I bet you’re in love with him, too. Probably even more than you were with me because he actually let you have your way with him.”

Why is he saying these things? “It’s not like that—”

“‘For me to fully love, I have to breach past that barrier to intimacy.’ You told me that yourself, and that’s just what Shua gave you. I don’t know how I could let myself forget that you’re such a simple man who falls so easily, so full-heartedly. That’s just the kind of person you are: A romantic as hopeless as you are desperate for love.”

“Stop. You don’t mean this.” Seungcheol’s heart wants to tear out his chest as he teeters between the lines of confusion and animosity. “You’re pushing me away, I won’t let you. To fall out of each other’s lives… That’s just not an option for me, Jeonghan. We care about each other, you used to tell me that everyday.”

Call it a drunken hallucination, but Seungcheol swears he can see the woe wash over Jeonghan’s angelic face, and feel those delicate hands cradle him softly. “Yes, I remember, but that was another time so far away. Seungcheol, you know the facts of what happened. Everything is different now and you know it.”

In that silver mirror shamelessly staring back at him, pitiful acceptance hollows Seungcheol out. It frees his bent knees to fall to the ground, and pulls his shoulders to a remorseful hunch. But the lure of that mirror hexes him to fight the weight hanging over his head. He cannot look away. “It is. And we all played a part in why that is so.”

“Yes, we did.” Jeonghan's hum fills the drawn out silence, until he blesses the world with delicate words. “Sorry. Those things I said about you, it wasn't fair for me to say. the situation isn’t so black and white and I had no right reacting that way.”

Seungcheol has to cut in, “No, I’m sorry for pressuring you. But we cannot ignore the truth any longer. Please? It’s agonizing… Just say—”

“Seungcheol, I won’t deny feeling something for you, and I know Joshua does, too. But that all went away when Joshua closed the door. You don’t understand, nothing else matters now. Believe me Seungcheol, it’s taking everything in me to feel I haven’t lost it all. I love him. I love my family. I will do anything for them and I can’t live without them.” With the tone of his voice alone, Seungcheol doesn’t need to guess whether Jeonghan is speaking figuratively or literally, and that hurts.

The barrier between family and outsider burns. “Of course.” 

What aches more is the sound of his old Jeonghan whispering through. “Oh, Cheollie, I cannot express to you how sorry I am.” A fragment of what once was falling, landing, and crashing. Only in his memories can Seungcheol look for the pieces, but he’d cut his fingers bloody trying to piece them back together. 

In the reflection, Seungcheol sees his hand mirror his reach of desperation. “No, please, Hannie—”

“You don’t need me.”

He doesn’t understand—

“You don’t need us.”

Lies!

“But, I do, Jeonghan! No, I don’t want us falling out of each other’s lives!” Jeonghan doesn’t respond, and that sparks anger in his tortuous calamity. “This—This can’t be how we end. What if Joshua doesn’t take you back? What would you do then?”

“I’ll never give up loving him, and I’ll spend every day proving how much I love him until he accepts me again. That goes for my children, too.”

To love and be loved entirely, that’s all Seungcheol ever wanted. Even in all those nights he shared with Joshua, Seungcheol knew they were never entirely his, and they never could be.

“He loves me! He loves the both of us! We could be together, Jeonghan, the three of us!” The second Seungcheol started speaking, he knew it was a mistake. Through the heavy silence he hears Jeonghan’s fears and understands he lost.

“I’m sorry.”

“Jeonghan. Wait—!”

Then, it was over. In the tap of a button Jeonghan had chosen to give up and leave Seungcheol behind with what could be. Maybe, that door was never within reach like Seungcheol had thought. Time beats on fate, and everything happened so quickly. Every word impacted every word. Action to action, Seungcheol once again let his life and happiness fall into the hands of others. And in that cursed mirror, Seungcheol sees a fool. 

PRESENT NIGHT. 

That phone call ignited a momentum derived by pain in vengeance for the half of Seungcheol’s heart Jeonghan had broken. It was painfully easy to realize that Jenoghan did not miss him and has long since cared for him. There may have been some kind of sympathetically derived regret, but there was no sorrow for how Jeonghan’s actions affected Seungcheol, for Seungcheol no longer mattered. There is one person as the sole reason for that newfound fact, and it made Seungcheol want him all the more… all for himself.

It made Seungcheol need Joshua to a level he had never known, and at the end it should have been him who was chosen, simple as that. Seungcheol could have given Joshua any and everything in life, provided for his children as if they were his own. Seungcheol would have never hurt Joshua the way Jeonghan has, and will again. Joshua was hardly able to survive this hit, but what about the next one? 

After the phone call, Seungcheol was finally able to see that the vibrancy of Jeonghan’s beauty was a front like that of a venomous plant tempting the world to take a bite.

Seungcheol should have known. 

That night, Jihoon expresses his conciliatory heartache for Seungcheol the best way he could. Seungcheol accepts the reach, he invites the touch, and lets his pain melt into the other. In a way, it is just how things used to be: One person would be stressed, heartbroken, or lonely, and the other fills such emptiness. The pain tends to return, but less so, and they continue until one of them winds up in some binds of monogamy. Later that night, though the pain came back as strong as ever, Seungcheol was almost able to forget, and that is a win in his book. 

THE LETTER

Seungcheol,

   Never will I expect your forgiveness, or hope for you to understand why.

   Our days spent together were a dream, an escape that saved me more than you may ever realize. However, even in dreams, the truth and reality of everything wanted impatiently for me to wake up. Maybe if our days were a part of another time, things could have ended up differently. Maybe we are too old for those kinds of dreams and wishes. I will never stop loving him, and I’m sure you have always known that. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man you needed me to be, and I will never forgive myself for that fact. 

   You are a special person, Seungcheol, who will always have a piece of my heart. 

   I’m sorry.

+++

Chapter Text

No where else does she wish to be. No other world does her thoughts waver to. The woman thought she knew happiness before, but nothing holds a candle to this moment; a mothers first time holding her baby.

“My sweet baby, what a gift you are.”

He’s so small, it is incomprehensible to imagine this infant growing into a man one day. But that is a time so far away, for today they belong to each other as they get to share their first days together: First days of motherhood, first days of life. 

She glides her fingers along his little cheeks, poking and memorizing how squishy they are. That button nose activates a cuteness aggression like no other that scrunches, making those tiny lips all the more pouty. Just as with true happiness, the woman thought she knew love, too, but this bond is incomparable. It runs so deep, binding bones, heart, and soul.

“Mama loves you… Mama loves you so, so much.” She smiles through tears of joy and snuggles her child closer to her chest. “Mama will protect you, my baby… Always.”

MARCH 12. 16:43. LOOKING BACK.

Vernon’s eyes snap open and for an instant, he forgets where he is.

“Sup.” Beomgyu is sitting over on a beanbag, eyes focused on the bright, action-packed game on the T.V. screen. His quick fingers clicking away on his game controller. “You fell asleep during our movie, so I paused it and started playing this.”

Vernon blinks a few times to collect his wits. “Oh, sorry.”

“I didn’t know you were so tired. Wanna lay in my bed? The sheets are clean.”

The thing is, Vernon wasn’t tired. One minute he was awake watching ‘The Conjuring’ with his buddy, the next he’s living a moment through familiar eyes. It was so realistic, and because of that, so bizarre.

“You good?”

Vernon massages his temples, tense from stress. “Uh, yeah, I just had this crazy dream.”

“A nightmare? Did somebody get scared from the movie we were watching?” Beomgyu teases in a baby voice.

“No, nothing like that, but still, it was…strange.” Vernon hesitates to find the words, or if they are ones he should even share. From an outside perspective, the dream appears quite simple. Vernon almost feels foolish for the shills exerting throughout his body, because it was so much more than ‘simple’. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Beomgyu offers, pausing his game. “No pressure, but I’m all ears if you want to share anything.” 

The genuinely kind yellows like a daffodil emitting from Beomgyu’s aura is what abates Vernon’s hesitance. He’s always so ernest under all that goof, it’s why Vernon has always been able to go to Beomgyu to talk about anything that’s stuck on his mind. Well, almost. 

“Alright, but don’t make fun of me.” He says this despite knowing Beomgyu wouldn’t about something like this. “So, there was this woman and she was holding her baby for the first time, and I was experiencing her emotions and thoughts like they were my own. It was super realistic, it felt so life-like to the point it was unsettling. And—And it was almost like I… knew her. ”

Beomgyu pauses his game and focuses on his thoughts. “A woman? Hmmm… Maybe it’s something from the future? Like, your future wife and child? That would be friggin precious, Noonie.”

A nice thought, but it doesn’t quite hit home. “Yeah, but I don’t think that’s quite it…”

“Or, it could be some kind of repressed memory from infantry? The brain is crazy sometimes. Have your dads ever told you about your birth mother?”

“Honestly, there was never anything to tell. Nothing was known about my past except for my birthday, which was written on the blanket I was wrapped in when the orphanage found me on their doorstep. And me being mixed.” 

This was something Vernon hardly ever talked about. He knows such a topic could be an uncomfortable topic to talk about, but it is also real life. Beomgyu shows no sign of discomfort, only sincerity and patience. 

“My dads told me that Seungkwan and I were kept in the same crib and clung to each other, crying any moment we were separated. They weren’t planning on adopting two babies, but knew it was fate when they saw us together.” With everything that has happened leading to current circumstances, talking about it made him miss his brother all the more. 

Beomgyu slowly nods, grasping the bizarre past. “Damn… You were left on a doorstep? Shit like that is supposed to be in movies, not real life. I’m sorry that happened.”

“Thanks. I’m as fine as I can be about it. Our parents were really on top of getting a good therapist for us. I still see her every now and then.” Then, Vernon wonders, ‘Does Seungkwan?’

“Wow, they really seem like good dads.” Beomgyu looks down at the controller in his hand, and Vernon senses his hesitation, the slight worry in asking what he wants to. “So… Are things getting better at home now that your dads are back together?”

Vernon sighs, figuring it was as good a time as any to unpack that can of worms. “Sort of. It’s weird, because at first glance it’s like nothing’s happened. But there’s this fragileness hanging in the air, like a broken vase slowly being put back together piece by piece.” Suddenly feeling a bit exposed, Vernon’s face goes red. “Sorry, that probably doesn’t make much sense.”

“Don’t apologize. It does.”

A friend’s kindness is always reassuring. “Seungkwan is still hardly speaking to them—or me. It hurts. Bad . But I can’t blame him. I’ve tried everything—left him texts and voicemails, so many unanswered phone calls, I even have a letter I had Chan give him. All unanswered..”

Beomgyu hums and lets a few courteous seconds of silence pass before he speaks. “Maybe, it’s something that can only be fixed with time.”

It was a far away truth that Vernon didn’t want to consider. So painfully uncertain, that day feels as close as yonder. 

“Hey, cheer up, yeah? I thought you were actually feeling alright today.”

“I was, but then… I dunno. This is just how it is living in the aftermath of shit hitting the fan.”

Then Beomgyu adds on, “But that shit is currently getting patched up, and things are slowly getting better. You told me so yourself. If you still feel some kind of way about everything, maybe you have some unresolved feelings needing to get worked through.”

Vernon playfully looks at his watch and cocks his head. “I didn’t know I had an appointment for Dr. Choi today.”

“Come on, you know I’m a psych major so I can one day become the trusty, handsome psychiatrist who no one suspects is actually a murder.”

“Ah, but this psychopath doctor has morals!” Vernon announces to their invisible audience, “For he only kills the perpetrators of his patients!”

“Exactly! BUT,” Beongyu reaches out and startles Vernon with a death grip, “if you tell a single living soul, then I may have to kill you too…”

“Then what if I were to tell you that… I see dead people!”

Beomgyu throws a loose banana peel and it lands smack dab in the middle of Vernon’s face.

“Betcha didn’t see that—AGH!” Vernon lunches forward and tries to pin his buddy down, but is quickly toppled over. 

The two friends are laughing, having fun as they try to playfully take down the other, when Vernon suddenly gets a bad feeling. He closes his eyes and feels a deep ache starting in his chest and drenching his entire body. The longing of regret is desolating, plunging his heart in blue. 

Regret for what?

“Noonie…? You good?”

Vernon comes to, lying on his back staring up at his curious and slightly worried friend.

“Uh, y-yeah, I’m good. I just…One second.” He grabs his phone on his way up to standing and scurries into the hallway. He goes through his contacts, pressing the ‘∞’ sign and brings it to his ear.

The ringing feels like it goes on simultaneously shorter and longer than it’s supposed to, but it eventually goes to voicemail. 

‘The person you are calling is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.

—BEEP—

“Hey, Eight. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. If you have some time tomorrow, or even, like, this weekend, I’d love to buy you lunch. I… I’m really thankful for you, you know that? You’ve always been such a good support system for me. Please know that I am here for whatever you may need. Well, hope you get this soon. Bye.”

Vernon presses the red ‘end’ button and sighs, now completely worried about his mentor and friend. 

When he heads back into the other room, Beomgyu is entertaining himself with the beanbag chair staring off into outer space. “What was that all about? Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Eight is going through a really tough breakup, and I know he isn’t doing too good.”

Beomgyu whistles lowly and slumps deeper into the beanbag. “That sucks. Seriously. Poor guy.”

“He’s strong, but… this one would fuck anyone up for good. And it’s the second time.”

Beomgyu’s jaw drops and he immediately follows up with questions. For the rest of their evening, Vernon shares Jun and Minghao’s story, leaving out some of the parts that are a bit too personal for him to speak of on behalf of another. 

After story time, and the movie, when he is three seconds away from falling asleep, Vernon’s phone lights up. 

THEE8:

I got your message, thank you

You don’t have to, but if you 

absolutely must, you can come 

over whenever tomorrow.

Vernon smiles to himself and replies:

IamVernon:

I do absolutely insist :)

I’ll bring stuff to make carbonara

I’ll aim for 14:00

THEE8:

Alright

See you later

Night

+++

MARCH 14. 14:12

Vernon feels a little silly locking his plain bike in front of such a gaudy apartment building. Nonetheless, he swings his backpack full of food over his shoulder and strides in. He’s been here once before to help Junhui move in, but that feels so long ago now. Everything has changed.

Vernon greets the stoic door man, who was notified of his arrival, and is guided to the elevator. When he steps off on the eighth floor, his heart involuntarily sinks to his stomach. The further he wanders down the hallways, melancholy blues and grays fill his vision. When the door opens, he couldn’t help but pull Minghao into a tight hug. He is glad he came when he did.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Vernon frowns and tilts his head up a bit. “That’s my line. Are you hungry? No, I know you probably haven't much, therefore pasta will be perfect.”

Minghao smiles bashfully and steps aside to let the younger one in. The apartment is a wreck. Magazines and loose papers everywhere, clothes scattered around, furniture pushed and shoved aside, but Vernon didn't comment. It’s only been eleven days, but then to Minghao, eleven days ought to feel like an eternity. 

“I, um, I was about to clean up, but then…”

Vernon shakes his head and starts boiling some water. “Don’t even stress about it. You really think I care? Now, the one thing I didn’t bring are eggs, but if you don’t have any I can run to the store.”

“No, I have some left. How many do we need?”

Minghao opens the fridge and the two begin cooking. Vernon takes any opportunity to crack a joke and make Minghao smile, and on the surface it works, but Minghao’s somber aura hardly changes. 

In twenty minutes, Vernon is dividing the carbonara between two plates. They sit at the table and Vernon watches Minghao take the first bite before taking his own.

“How’s work going?” He asks between bites. 

Minghao’s eyes drop to his noodles, twirling the noodles. “Fine, I guess. I’ve been working more from home this week. Haven't been in the office much. Woozi tells me that Junhui put in a transfer to switch departments, so…” He takes his bite and slowly chews. 

“Maybe it’s for the best. That he works in another department, I mean. That building is so big, if he was on another floor, I doubt you two would see each other much.”

“Yeah.”

Vernon doesn't know what to say. He knows Minghao doesn’t want to talk about Junhui, and Vernon can’t see it being a good idea to push him in doing so. Looking at him, he sees a man with a toiled heart, broken and unspoken emotions stuck in his chest.

“Eight—”

“How are your parents?” Minghao disguises his sourness well, but Vernon still spots agitated flairs of yellow through his blue aura. He gets it. It was one of Minghao’s closest friends whose heart they broke. Seems like everyone is going through it these days, while Vernon’s parents go back to la la land and pretend everything is sunshine and rainbows.

“Oh, they’re fine, I guess. They’re getting along pretty good.” Agitation begins burning to subtle anger, and Vernon wants to change the subject. “Seungkwan’s still not really talking to us, more so to me. I don’t know what to do, but I don’t want to force him.”

“It’s only March and it’s already been a hard year. Give it time, Vernon, he’ll come around. You two are the kind of brothers who will love each other no matter what. It’s very special what you have.”

Empathetic soft blues venture from Minghao’s aura. This warms Vernon’s heart, and it’s all the more reassuring because he knows it’s true. And Seungkwan knows it, too, even if he may not remember right now.

“You’re right. It helps hearing that. You know, in a different way, I feel that is the same for you.”

Vernon does not need to specify, and Minghao understands because his wide, glossy eyes says it all.

“Shit.” The palms of Minghao’s hands fly to his face and he vigorously rubs his eyes.

Vernon speaks with a soothing voice, “Hey, don’t do that. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yes, it hurts… It hurts so fucking bad.” Minghao’s voice is quiet, small like a mouse terrified for its life. “Ten days, that’s all it's been. It shouldn’t feel like… like—”

“Like an eternity.” Vernon finishes for him. Minghao silently nods his head. “When will it get better? It hurt when he left me the first time, but this is fucking unbearable! The agony doubles every day he is gone, and I don’t know what to do. I—I—” Minghao’s voice gets caught in his tears, a painful hiccup sounding. “I can’t believe I just let him go like that!”

Vernon seeing Minghao like this resurfaces a memory from long ago, on a stormy winter night. The door to his home was slammed really loudly—that’s what woke him and Seungkwan up—and the boys got out of bed, curious to see why. That’s when he saw his dad, Joshua, collapsed on the floor, sobbing. The brothers didn’t know what to do but watch from afar. Seungkwan probably doesn’t even remember, but Vernon will never forget the way he could practically hear his dad’s heart cracking into his soul. That was when Vernon first first realized how dangerous love can be.

“I let him leave me. I had the ability to stop him, but I was so scared!”

Vernon rounds the table and wraps his arms around Minghao when the words spoken during the pair’s last conversation faintly begin fluttering into Vernon’s head. He feels Minghao’s anxiety and fear when Junhui dreams of what could be. He sees the melancholic love in Junhui’s eyes on their final night, then the last, pleading look as Junhui leaves. Every cell was screaming out for him, but Minghao’s mouth remained closed. Vernon understands now and squeezes the other. 

Minghao takes deep breaths, trying to regain control of his breathing, and gives an airy voice due to his burning throat.“I had a future planned for us, too. I really did. But Junhui… The one he imagined was too big for me.”

“Why?” Vernon simply asks.

“B—Because! I am not ‘cookie-cutter’ family material! Growing up, I heard all about my friends fucked up families, and it’s pretty god damn heartbreaking. Wonwoo and Seungcheol were practically raised by stone cold rocks who care only about the family name, and Junhui… It is amazing he even wants a family with the shit he was put through. Then there is Mingyu who lost his entire family. His parents were amazing, and so was his big sister who ended up raising him later in his childhood, but tragedy wasn't ready to let Mingyu go. He had a brand new nephew when they all passed. He’s the last one left. I realized pretty early on that what I have with my moms is one in a billion, yet I turned out like this! I’m not kind or patient like my parents. I’m confrontational, bottle things up, and lash out. Junhui will be a wonderful father despite the awful people who raised him, and that is too special for me to ruin.”

Vernon hears those dejected words, and he sees the poignancy of emotions rumbling inside, running Minghao like a puppet. Fear, anxiety, anger, and anguish all take their consuming turn, but in the smallest of cracks—Vernon almost misses it—there is a glimmer of hope. Though, it’s being consumed by regret.

“Minghao, please, you can’t let it win. I know it’s easier to feel powerless than to feel strong, but there is still time. I don’t want to speak for anyone, but I know you and your heart well enough to say this: don’t let this become the biggest regret of your life.”  

Vernon sees everything in Minghao’s eyes; the pain and fear trickled down by realization. He hopes Minghao can see in his own eyes the love and strength Vernon is willing for him. If he could wrap courage up in a box and gift it to Minghao, he would. But the only way he can do that is through words and support, so he tries to give the best he could.

Minghao mutters something under his breath that Vernon cannot hear, then in an instant the man jumps to his feet and takes off to the bathroom.

“U—Um—?”

“Vernon! While I’m going to quickly brush my teeth and wash my face! Will you please grab a tee shirt and a pair of jeans from my closet?”

“Oh, sure! Okay!”

Vernon then springs to his feet, too, and quickly gathers an outfit (that he hopes is to Minghao’s at least somewhat liking) and tosses it in the bathroom. A minute later, Minghao runs out of the bathroom and skids to the floor by the door to throw on some sneakers and a jean jacket.

“Keys? Keys!”

“Here! I got them!” 

Minghao catches Vernon’s pitch and is out the door in the blink of an eye. The silence following is exciting, curious, full of anticipation! Having nothing better to do at the time, Vernon looks around the apartment with his hands on his hips.

“Well, I might as well get some of these dishes out of the way.”

+++

All that runs through Minghao’s mind between dashing out his door and banging on the one in front of him is Junhui. He hates that it had to take somebody else to get him to see that he wasn’t fooling anyone, especially himself. 

Junhui… Jinhui…!

His breathtaking smile, that adorably ludicrous humor, his contagious kindness and charming habits… Every part of Junhui has brought such color to Minghao’s life and became the very force that pumps his heart full of warm blood. Those long ago years without that man's light were as awful as they were out of his control. This time, Minghao thought he was doing Junhui right by freeing him from himself. Nothing disguises itself better than self-sabotage and fear. Thank god for Vernon’s blessed eyes that have never failed to see the truth and hope in any situation, and Minghao has never been more thankful for the kid than this moment. 

Minghao knew where to go to find his love. Since it’s a Friday afternoon, the chances of at least one out of the three introverts who are living here being home are pretty good. Minghao smiles when the door swings open amidst his continuous rounds of knocking.

“Christ, quiet down, will you?”

So, not either of the guys Minghao expected, but the kid will do. “Oh, Dino! Hey! Is Junhui here? Wait, why aren’t you in class?”

Young Dino looks confused as ever and shakes his head. “I don’t have class on Fridays this semester, and no, Jun isn’t here. He went apartment hunting and Mingyu tagged along. You want to come in? Wonwoo’s napping and I don’t know how long the apartment hunting will take—wait, why do you ask? I mean, aren’t you two, you know, um…?”

Minghao huffs a breath and looks around. “Do you know where they could be? I need to see him as soon as possible.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes—I mean, no, nothing bad or anything, but I just—oh, Wonwoo, hey! How are you—?”

“You’re looking for Junhui?”

As much as Minghao loves these two, he doesn’t have time for this. “Yes, yes. Now, I really need to—”

“You’re wanting to get back together with him?”

From Wonwoo’s apparently blatant skepticism, Minghao’s energy lowers, but his heart persists. “Yes.” He sternly responds, yet an answer Wonwoo does not appear satisfied by.

“Why?”

“Because I have never loved a single person more than I love him, and I know I never will.”

Wonwoo leans on the frame of the door and his eyes bore into Minghao’s. Catching the daylight like this, Minghao can see how his friend’s sickness is starting to seep into his supple face. Wonwoo’s cheeks are thinning, his lips pale, and his neck much thinner like the rest of his body.

“A first love is a powerful thing.” 

“It is.”

“He’s not the only fish in the sea, you know.”

“Yes, that is true as well, but I don’t need or want anyone else. Junhui is the greatest person I know… I’d be a fool to let him go.”

Wonwoo folds his arms and steps aside. It’s not the most welcoming invite, but Minghao knows he shouldn’t refuse, so he takes off his shoes and follows the two into the apartment. He doesn’t blame Wonwoo for his lack of enthusiasm, per say. Because on one hand, the group's dynamic remained cordial when Junhui and Minghao took their time apart that eventually led to the break up. On the other hand, Wonwoo knows just as well as Minghao that the argument of “he broke up with me” in regards to Junhui holds very little value.

“It took you just now to realize?” asks Wonwoo, gracefully propping himself up along the couch. Chan snuggles up next to him, and as soon as Minghao sits on the couch opposite the two, he then declares, “It’s time I take responsibility for my actions.” 

“And those actions are…?”

God, it’s so irksome when Wonwoo acts all righteous and coy. “I was neglecting Junhui’s needs and not considering them in my own plans. It’s no excuse to say that the motive for this was because I didn’t believe in myself—I didn’t believe I could be the man he needed me to be— and if he takes me back, I will spend the rest of my life becoming that person for him. I want to apologize, Wonwoo, to someone I love so deeply… Please, can I do at least that?”

Wonwoo sighs and closes his eyes, thinking. “This won't become a thing; a constant ‘on-again-off-again’ relationship. As a friend to the both of you, that’s not something I can support.”

“It won't be like that, I promise.” Minghao says as earnestly as he could, and he reaches into his pocket. Out of it, he pulls a small, black velvet box and both Wonwoo and Dino’s eyes widen. 

Wonwoo’s mouth opens, but Dino speaks quicker. “B–But, wh–wh–what—! That’s a—” Minghao opens the box and Dino nearly jumps out of his couch cushion. “That’s a whole ass ring! What’s that ring for?!”

“If he allows for me to be in his life again romantically, I’m going to propose.”

“Wh–Wh–Wh—!”

“I thought you didn’t want to be married.” Wonwoo cuts his nephew off. Now, the friend looks pissed off and confused more than anything.

“I know. I didn’t. It’s something I’ve always been honest about, but last year after Jun and I confessed that we still felt something romantically for each other, things just felt… different. Then, I was out shopping for the New Year and passed by a jewelry store. I took a glance at the window display and stopped me in my tracks, because I saw this.” Minghao looks down at the ring in the box and remembers seeing the dainty little piece for the first time. Such a unique design, a silver band with elegant curves like bird feathers chiseled all around. Junhui has always had such a light and free spirit, “It’s so him, don’t you think? Before I knew it, I was walking out the door with a large dent in my bank account, this damn little box, and a smile I couldn’t wipe off my face for days. 

“I told myself I bought it for shits and giggles, because I could never be the marrying type; That there’s nothing wrong with that and I should just accept my fate. Then I would look at Junhui, feel him in my arms, say his name with my lips and thought to myself, ‘what if’ …” Even talking about it makes Minghao nervous and clammy. He takes the ring from the cushion and spins it around in his fingers, imagining how beautiful it would look adorning one of Junhui’s elegant fingers. “ ‘What if there was a day when I’m grown up enough to propose’? In the back of my mind, that’s what I began hoping for. It would’ve been years from now, of course, after we'd have already celebrated multiple anniversaries, gone on a couple of trips together, spent every holiday with each other. I began to think that maybe marriage might not be something completely out of the picture. But then, it was over.” Minghao places the ring back in the cushion and the box snaps shut. “Where did the time go, Wonwoo? When did we become those very ‘grownups’ that once felt so far away? ”

All the worries and happiness of yesterday mix strangely, oddly comforting, in these four walls. It is a moment like this when one is reminded just how much of their life has happened, and there is still so much to live. Hence the ‘oddly’ of right now being ‘comforting’, but in another light it is almost exhausting. 

Wonwoo slowly shakes his head with no answer, and his lips softly curl upwards. He understands exactly what Minghao is talking about, as his eyes are so very often full of nostalgia these days.

“We make grown up decisions who reap the reward of the good ones, and take the hit from the bad ones. And this decision—this mistake —is one I would never be able to forgive myself if I didn't at least try to make things right.”

“You know, I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive you, either.”

The friends laugh and Dino cuddles up into Wonwoo’s side.

“So, can you tell me where he is?”

“Well, the thing is,” Wonwoo pauses and curiously checks his phone, “If I timed this out as well as I hoped, then—”

Just then, the door swings open and appears a breathless Junhui whose eyes immediately fall on Minghao. 

Alarm bells ring in his head with so many questions and emotions, it’s hard to organize his thoughts on what to do next. So, Minghao slowly stands even if his knees feel so weak. “Junhui…” He breaths out, every other word in his vocabulary going blank. As he squeezes the box, his hands begin to tremble. 

“You’re here? You’re actually here?”

Minghao couldn't read if there was any frustration in Junhui’s breathlessness— ‘ is he happy, or mad to see me here?’ — but being just in his presence right now is enough to light his entire body on fire.

“Yes, and I’m sorry it took so long. I came here to talk to you, because I–I love you!” The profession came out quickly like vomit, and the following silence allows for the words to sink into the air. Junhui has to blink a few times before he is able to compose himself and stands up straighter, properly removing his shoes to slide into his house slippers. 

“Lets talk outside on the balcony. Is that alright, Wonwoo?”

The uncle and nephew look like they’re three seconds away from fetching for popcorn, but they agree. “It’s all yours. We won’t snoop.”

“Thank you.”

Junhui doesn't look at Minghao when he heads for the sliding glass doors, but Minghao follows and closes the door behind him. In the air lingers winter’s last crisp grasp, thank god for sunshine. 

Junhui turns around and looks up at Minghao with a sad, pitiful sort of expression that sinks Minghao’s heart.

“Minghao, how do you think I feel from hearing that?”

“Well, um, happy, I hope? I mean, I’m just happy to see you and be near you right now, but, uh… You don’t exactly look…” Minghao doesn’t bother finishing.

“We both know why things had to end. It’s what we agreed on.”

“It’s exactly as you said, Jun, I was so scared before, but I’m not anymore. I want to be with you; to be someone strong you can lean on when dealing with the hardships that life throws at us. I want to—”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. Forcing yourself only makes things worse.”

“I’m not though, I swear. I can become that man for you—”

“No! You still don’t get it? You don’t need to be anyone else when who you are is exactly enough! I could never ask you to change yourself, and realizing that this path would turn you into someone you’re not is the very reason why things had to end!”

As Minghao listens, he sees tears begin to brim Junhui’s eyes. He wants to reach out and catch them, to never let him fall. 

“You’re right, I didn’t properly phrase what I was trying to say. But, doesn’t the saying go, ‘to grow is to change’? You make me better, stronger, reliable, happy. You’ve shown me how to search for depth within myself and others, which allows me to see the goodness of the world. I have changed my life in the best way possible thanks to you, so there’s no one else I’d rather share it with.” Minghao raises his hand to Junhui’s eye level and reveals the black velvet box. It doesn’t immediately register in Junhui’s mind what could be in that box, so his eyes confusingly dart between the object and Minghao’s soft expression.

“My moms told me that, though marriage isn’t something that suits everyone, if I find someone who opens up my world, I should stick with them. They also told me that if I ever did choose to go down that route, marriage can be a true honor of celebrating love and unity that has the power to strengthen a couple’s bond. As endearing as those words were, I never understood that kind of yearn for such devotion.” 

Minghao finally allows for the box to open, and his chest warms further when those naturally sleepy eyes slowly widen with realization. 

“You know I’m a stubborn ass, but I understand now. It’s always been you, Junhui.”

“You—You—?!” 

The adorableness of Junhui’s stammering makes Minghao want to do the full shabang and lower himself to one knee. Now, he is reduced to just soundless mouth movements, and Minghao can’t keep his laughter in any longer.

“Oh, say something, will you?” Because as the mouth-sound-silance continues, Minghao is actually able to process the situation and has never felt more nervous in his entire life. “Oh, then answer me this, honey: Do you still love me?”

Junhui nods furiously.

“Do you want to be with me?”

Junhui’s nodding doesn’t abate and excels to beady bounces on his toes.

“What about being with me for the rest of our lives?”

Now, Junhui is full on sobbing and his knees give out, pulling him to the ground.

“If that’s a yes, then, will you marry me?”

Junhui arms swing around Minghao’s neck and tackles him to the floor. Pure excitement and joy burst between the two and their kisses mix sweetly with laughter and tears. The sliding glass door slides open and out pours Mingy, Dino, and Wonwoo whooping and cheering. Though the friends may not have heard the exchanged words between the couple, a transparent glass door provides only so much privacy. The perfect tempt for the snoopers that are their friends.

+++

Chapter Text

In August, when Lee Seokmin first met his college roommate, Kwan Soonyoung, he simply adored the goofy fella. They had similar humor, hobbies, love for their third precious roommate, Seungkwan, and a shared passion for the arts. As Seokmin’s esteem for the guy grew profoundly, it also did not take long for him to realize that Hoshi isn’t just more musically inclined than he is, but also more versatile being a profound dancer. 

Back in October, the two realized they had their eye on the same spring internship program and thought it’d be fun to apply together. The other guys in their friend group, Seungkwan and Dino, were first years therefore not yet eligible to apply, but they cheered them on nonetheless.

Seokmin was happy when they both hit the ‘submit’ button at the same time, but through that smile he knew the realistics: One, this internship is beyond competitive. Therefore, two, the likeliness of them both getting in is slim. Which leads to three, Hoshi would surely be the one to earn a spot. And when he does, Seokmin promised himself he’d smile, give the friend a hug, and congratulate him on his acceptance. It's the least he could do after breaking the guy’s heart, and Seokmin is a firm believer of karma.

Unbeknownst, Seokmin’s thoughts, prayers, and hard work were answered: Seokmin got the acceptance email, and Hohi got something entirely different.

+++

MARCH 18. 08:32

“Yo! Hoshi, hey!” Standing in the coffeehouse entrance, Seokmin sees his friend skipping over to join him in the queue. 

“Morning, DK!”

Seokmin nods, “Gooood morning, my dear. How are you doing on this fine, spring day?”

Somehow, Hoshi’s smile grows even larger, “I feel fucking marvelous, Seok. You have your first presentation today, right?”

Seokmin gulps, that rock in his stomach growing heavier, but he smiles through the pain. “Yep, th-that’s right!”

“You excited to show off your stuff?”

“Um, yeah. You know it.”

They move up in the queue and Seokmin is finally able to get a clearer view of the menu. 

“What’s wrong? You ok, buddy?”

Seokmin tilts his head in a ‘so-so’ manner, “Just nerves, is all. I get like this sometimes when I’m put in any kind of situation where I could be even just a little bit judged. But hey, that’s life, no? Especially as an artist. Oftentimes it’s not as bad as I think, at least that’s what I’m telling myself, so I’ll be alright.”

Hoshi pouts out his bottom lip, “Sounds stressful, I’m sorry to hear that.” He looks like he wants to say more, but it's their turn to give their drink orders to the barista, both agreeing on large hot mochas. Once done, Hoshi sparks a question, “Anxiety is a bitch to deal with. Not like the desensitized-slang version everyone (jokes/talks) about, but actual anxiety.”

Seokmin shrugs, “I don’t think it’s that. I’d say it’s normal to feel like this before a presentation like this.”

“Yeah, but you did say you feel like this a lot, and ‘a lot’ is not so normal.”

Seokmin is starting to regret even pitching it into the conversation, not wanting to dampen the mood. “I mean, I guess, but it’s fine. No need to worry about lil’ ol’ m, ah haaa.” He hates when people needlessly worry over him.

“Personally,” Hoshi starts, “I don’t like it when the people I care about are sad or feeling some kind of way. Vernon was diagnosed with generalized anxiety a couple of years ago and has found some good ways to work with it. I bet he’d be fine talking about it with you if you have any questions.” It’s a kind gesture, but the idea of talking about something like this feels so naked and boundary-crossing. Hoshi shrinks when he notices the other’s discomfort. “Sorry, I don't mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. Sometimes I don’t know how to react when people fret over me, but I appreciate it and I know you do it out of love. I’ll think about talking to Vernon.” Even though he felt he needed to add this, Seokmin can taste the lie hidden under those small, assuring words.

Hoshi brings his hand to Seokmin’s arm with only the fondest of touches. “Alright. If you need anything, I'm here for you.” Perhaps he knows it's a lie, too, but he doesn’t say anything else.

A complacent hum sounds from Seokmin. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the concern, it’s more so that he feels it is unnecessary. He doesn’t need to be wasting such worries and energy on Seokmin when others around Hoshi have actual problems. Seokmin decides it’s best to switch the subject.

He scans the menu, considering several options, but his tastebuds seem to want only one thing. “Mocha…Need. Mocha. With lots of whipcream. What are you feeling?”

With eyes jumping from drink to drink, Hoshi hums very loudly and almost a little too drawn out, until the conclusion of his decision is made with the snap of his fingers. “Dirty chai frappuccino. Also lots of whip cream.”

Hoshi being the doll he is, insists on paying for Seokmin with the compromise that Seokmin gets him back next time. They step to the side and wait for their order, and Seokmin realizes his impoliteness. 

“Wait a minute, isn’t today an important day at work for you, too?”

“Ah, well, kind of. I’m pitching some choreo to a couple higher ups to consider using for upcoming songs for the talent.”

Their names are called to pick up their drinks and Seokmin passes one over with a look of concern. 

Seokmin laughs and is impressed about how professional Hoshi sounded just then. “ ‘The talent’ , haha! Look at you, big shot choreographer. Who’s on the panel? What groups are being considered for the song and dance?”

The two leave the coffee shop arm in arm, enjoying the blue sky, having that extra vibrant quality only an early morning can provide. 

“Mmm, I think it’s just two or three people that will be making the decision, and you know I’m not allowed to say who the songs are for! Ok but the one I’m actually worried about is… Ugh, I don’t even want to say his name. Don’t need that prick’s bad juju.”

“Oh no, don’t tell me—”

“Yeah. Him. I swear, if he rejects this then that would be the fifth thing of mine he’s turned down and then I’ll know he’s out to get me.”

Seokmin sighs and shakes his head. “Woozi is not out to get you—”

“I said I didn’t wanna hear his name!”

“ —He’s just a hard ass by nature, everyone knows that. The first time he expressed… disappointment at my intern group, I almost had a code brown. It happens, we move on.”

Hoshi sourly grumbles into his drink as he takes another sip. He looks much too sour and serious for Seokmin’s liking, especially over something that may only be worse in his head than reality, so Seokmin knows just what to say…

“You know, I still remember how giddy you were when you discovered the identity of the busker who serenaded you last year, and how he turned out to be someone you’re gonna work with a lot .”

“Fuck off.”

“How did you describe it?” Seokmin is beginning to fall into a fit of giggles, “ ‘A twist of fate’? Maybe even ‘the perfect start to an epic romance’ and ‘what if we’re destined to be toget—’ ”

“Good GOD please! Enough! I’m seriously gonna barf! You know what? I’m soooo glad it took me, like, three seconds to realize that man is as loveable as a bag of nails!”

It’s quite true. Seokmin remembers Hoshi running to him during lunch on their first day with hearts in his eyes, telling him the epic news of a reunion between him and the beautiful man that sang to him last November. By the end of that very day when they met up to go home together, those hearts deflated, nowhere to be seen on such a pissed off, exhausted face. Thus birthed the unfortunate demise of Hoshi's complicated work report with his higher up, senior, ‘holier than thou’ boss, Lee Jihoon.

Seokmin peeks over at Hoshi, “Professor Jeon’s friend, Mingyu, seems to think otherwise.”

“Well, last Dino told me, they broke up. So, no, he probably doesn’t anymore.”

“How are they doing, anyway? Dino and Professor Jeon?”

“You can call him ‘Wonwoo’ outside of class, you know.”

“Yeah, but it feels a little weird. I don’t know him the way you and the others do.”

Dino is Professor Jeon’s nephew, Hoshi is Dino’s best friend, Professor Jeon and Dino are close family friends with Seungkwan and Vernon’s family. Dino practically grew up with those brothers and being around everyone, together, brings such joy to Seokmin’s heart. Then during winter break, Dino broke the stirring news in their group chat that his uncle had a relapse of some awful illness. Since then, the guys have been doing whatever they could to help and support their buddy. Seokmin is just thankful Dino forgave him for all the pain he caused Hoshi last semester.

Hoshi sighs and swirls around his drink before taking a sip, “I mean you know how it is, Dino’s been glued to Wonwoo’s hip the entire semester. He doesn’t open up that much about it with me, and I try not to bring it up. Wonwoo is his favorite uncle, who is more of a parent to Dino than either of his own.”

Seokmin can’t imagine the pain of having a relative you love so dearly being so sick, and he hopes he never has to. 

“Hey, don’t motion that last part to anyone, okay? I got caught up in my own emotions, something like that is not my place to say.”

“I won’t, I can understand how you feel. It’s never easy to see a friend struggle. Now, tell me more about the choreography you’re pitching. What kind of song is it to?” 

Both are thankful for the subject change, and Seokmin listens eagerly as Hoshi goes on and on.When Hoshi and Seokmin first made this walk from the coffee shop to Seventeen Sounds headquarters, the winter winds were relentless, and the skies dimmed by clouds were full of  endless snow. But it was strange, because looking up at the skyscraper now reflecting the beautiful spring day, it makes sense for it to be so glistening and gleaming. That’s a quality that never changed despite the weather, so even in the dead of winter, that building was a beacon. Walking up to the glass double doors, Seokmin can’t believe this has become his norm.

“You ready?” Hoshi asks, the nervousness in his voice makes Seokmin feel less alone. Even so, he tries to remember that this chapter of their lives is amidst the halfway point, and Seokmin should savor every page.

“Yeah. What floor are you starting on today?”

“Twelfth floor. You?”

“Eighth.”

The lobby takes on a minimalist design, yet still matching the grander of everything that is ‘Seventeen Sounds’ . The two flash their badges at scanners to allow them access through the automatic glass gates. Beyond is a row of elevators they queue in line to use. From the corner of his eye, Hoshi visibly shrinks and his eyes narrow, because up ahead stand two distinguishable figures that everyone in the room appears to be watching. 

“Ugh, why is he everywhere?” Hoshi whines. “It’s like hr ficking lives here or something.”

“Well, their offices are nice enough to where one could definitely have a comfortable life. It makes sense though, as they’re part of the holy trinity.”

“Holy trinity?” Questions Hoshi. For a moment, Seokmin thinks he’s kidding, but the genuine confused curiosity goes past the brink of such.

“You know, the ‘S-8-W Holy Trinity”? They’re the Dude, do you even work here? I’m just an intern and I even know.”

“Okay okay, if you know everything tell me already, will ya?”

If Seokmin had his glasses on, he would push them up for his anime moment. “So, first up is ‘S’ , for the company president, Choi Seungcheol. Youngest CEO in SVT history, taking over right out of college after his father, the previous CEO, nearly ran the company into the ground. Within his first year, the company’s stats skyrocketed and was nearly restored to its former glory. ‘8’ is for Xu Minghao, or also known as ‘The8’. He’s the head of the translations department, but he wears a million other hats for the company. He’s involved in a lot of foreign diplomacy with Mandarin speaking countries, helps around the styling department, and is a trainer to the company’s trainees specializing in various forms of hip-hop.” 

Hoshi nods slowly, a bit unsure how much information actually stuck in that tiger brain of his. “Wow buddy, you really know your shit, don’t ya?”

“Of course.”

“Lastly is your favorite: Lee Jihoon, aka Woozi. He got a contract offer from the company while he was still in college and joined in his last year of school. Since then, he got promoted to ‘lead producer’ after just two years, and has also released chart-topping songs under his name as an artist. As of last year, he’s now head of the department. Those three are the ultimate trio and, to make it even better, have been best friends since college. In their early years at the company, some grumpy assholes tried to call Woozi and The8’s hiring as nepotism, but their success says otherwise. There’s also a rumor about them, too…”

Hoshi laughs and downs the rest of his coffee. “Wait let me guess, they’re fucking?” 

Seokmin can tell it was supposed to be a joke, but that’s what makes it all the more entertaining. Seokmin’s brutish smile makes Hoshi’s eyes as wide as golf balls. “No way!”

“Mhmmmm, but just two of them. Wanna guess?”

“God, you’re such a fucking gossip.” Hoshi laughs wildly and pushes Seokmin into the free elevator. Others pile in and they make sure to hit the right floor number before they’re too far shoved in the back. “Lemme guess…” Hoshi whispers, and thank god for elevator music. “The8 and Woozi?”

“Bzzz! Wrong. There’s a different rumor about The8, that he and Seungcheol dated sometime last year but The8 left him for one of his department workers. No one knows who, though.”

“Oh. Mygod.”

“I know!”

“So that means, President Choi and—” 

“YEP.”

Seokmin couldn't help but imagine all the technicalities of how that could work, and slowly, his face begins to flush. “O-Oh…”

“Mind out of the gutter, freak.”

“Not my fault they'd be a hot couple.”

Hoshi rolls his eyes and Seokmin notices right in the nick of time that the elevator doors are about to open up to his floor.

“Oop! This is me! Alrighty, text me when you're off and we can head back to the island together.”

“Will do! Good luck today!” Hoshi calls out as Seokmin’s halfway out of the crowded elevator.

“Thanks! You too!”

+++

15:06

D*-*K:

Doonnneee!

Kwannie got us some food at the mess hall 

so we can head straight to the dorms.

HO(e)SHI:

Fabulous. 

Just got done myself. Guess what 

tf just happened today.

D*-*K:

Oh no

HO(e)SHI:

Yep.

D*-*K:

Im sorry bud :(

HO(e)SHI:

It's fine. I was expecting it, but I was 

also hoping he'd be better…

Seokmin frowns, his heart goes out to his sweet, sweet friend. He always listened to Hoshi when he’d complain about Woozi, but now he feels bad for not taking him seriously. Seokmin saw the choreography and assured him that he wasn't biased when expressing how great it was.

D*-*K:

I'll be all ears for you on the ride home

HO(e)SHI:

Actually, I'd rather just listen to our podcast. 

I don't really wanna talk right now…

D*-*K:

Ofc no worries<333

Hoshi can act as tough as he wants, but that evening he needed a big, long hug. And if there were a few tears exchanged, Seokmin fell back to the thing he often felt was all he'd ever have: a smile.

+++

MARCH 23. 12:16. CHERRY BLOSSOMS.

Since their friendship began in childhood, Mingyu has been invited to Wonwoo’s family home for every holiday season. It’s a large home with plenty of rooms, just shy of a mansion, and eternal hallways that Wonwoo and Mingyu used to spend hours exploring in search of secret passages (so far, they found three). Wonwoo admitted long ago that the place feels much less empty when Mingyu is there with him. They have always been a perfect fit; Mingyu fills the loneliness supplied by the distance Wonwoo’s family raised him, and Wonwoo keeps his heart together from the holes left behind by the people who were taken from him. 

They take on this flowing river of life in a boat fit for two that can get through any rough waters. But, what happens if one day the boat is only manned by one?

These are just some of the thoughts and worries driving Kim Mingyu’s stream of consciousness as he sits in his room this winter night. 

The fireplace is as warm and bright as years prior, the sheets keep him held and the house full of . There are parties and dinners at the fine manor where Mingyu gets to live in another reality, even if Wonwoo is constantly complaining how fake everything is. Mingyu simply responds, “we’re not fake, that’s all that matters”. Then just as they did when they were boys, the two would sneak off into a study and see what treasures snooping leads them to.

Yet now amongst the care he so greatly looks forward to every year, he feels such comforts tainted by distance; like he’s watching from outside, unable to feel and experience the moment in full. Especially when he hears the whispers about the main family, more particularly, about Wonwoo.

“Old money dies quick these days because of foolish sons like him,” “That’s karma for being a bad heir,” “Not even a child to pass his wasted fortune on” “Selfish, leaving his parents to pick up the burdens he created” “What if they take on Chan instead? That young man sure is bright—” “He’s uncultivated and wild, like Wonwoo, but it may just work, push comes to shove…”

They learned to survive these kinds of poisonous words long ago, only with each other to lean on. Now, as full grown adults ending the youth of ‘twenties’ to hide behind, Mingyu and Wonwoo’s smiles work overtime. Especially now that everyone knows about Wonwoo’s illness.

MARCH 23. 09:23

The morning light is not kind, and the embers of his fireplace have long dimmed. It was where he fell asleep his first night visiting the large home and every year since; the flames captivating his ponderings, eventually lulling them to quiet. But last night, and for his entire stay in general this year, Mingyu’s mind will not quiet, and he has guilt to thank for that.

Mingyu sits up in his bed to the view of Wonwoo brushing his teeth in their connected bathroom between rooms. His beauty is no different to all the other times he’s woken up to such a sight, yet Mingyu still struggles in finding his breath.

“Mornin’.” Wonwoo casually chimes from across the room. 

“Morning.” Except now when Mingyu sees Wonwoo, he also sees the same frail, sickly boy he had met in the hospital all those years ago. Mingyu’s blood runs cold and he has the sudden urge to run up to Wonwoo and hold him, never letting go. 

Wonwoo tilts his head, “What’s up? Did you not sleep very well last night?”

“Yeah, I’m going to miss these sheets.”

“Just take a pair, no one’s going to notice.”

But I already did last year.”

Wonwoo laughs, “Then make it a tradition. Every year, we will steal a set of sheets.”

Mingyu shares Wonwoo’s grin, but it fades quickly as soon as the other looks away. Every year… Mingyu repeats back in his head, unsure of how to react due to current circumstances. In truth, Mingyu feels guilty for everything: His foolish grasp for independence away from Wonwoo when he knows Wonwoo relies on him just as heavily. All the petty flair ups that lead to fights both knew were never Wonwoo’s fault, and Mingyu’s flaunting of his relationship to get a rise out of the other.

Since Mingyu was far too young to stop or know any better, he has been solely and completely in love with Jeon Wonwoo. And the thing that Mingyu is most guilty of is forcing himself to get over the greatest person he has ever known.

He failed, of course, because his bleeding heart rushed once more when he heard the news: Wonwoo is sick. Now, not only was Mingyu’s childish progress washed away by such a confession, but Mingyu realized never could he live without Wonwoo.

“Are you all packed up?”

“Yep.”

“Guess what? My parents asked for me to stay longer. Of course, I gave them my usual speech of being worried about you on the road, having coursework to plan, seeing Chan… blah blah blah. This time they actually listened though with no push back! It’s probably because they know I’m a hopeless case.”

Mingyu doesn’t respond and turns his back to hide the tremble in his lip. Hopeless case? Just what do you mean by that? “You–You’re not hopeless, Wonu.”

“Well as long as they think I am and you think I’m not, then I’m free. Anyways, should we rummage through the snacks here, or pick some stuff up at a convenience store? I, personally, am craving a smoothie. Or do I want hot chocolate? Mocha? …” 

Wonwoo absentmindedly takes Mingyu’s aloofness as a response and continues words vomiting his train of thought. Later today, the pair will be driving back to the city where the rest of their life was put on a weekend-long pause. 

He can never let the love of his life go…

But Wonwoo isn’t going anywhere . 

Wonwoo beat his illness when he was a kid, surely he could do it again… 

“...Do you wanna get dinner with Chan and I tonight—?”

“I love you.”

Wonwoo looks over and smiles, “Love ya too, Gyu.”

But it’s not good enough, not anymore. Mingyu slides out of bed and ventures across the floor, right up behind Wonwoo and meeting his gaze in the bathroom mirror.

Wonwoo holds up a blue toothbrush, “I put toothpaste on it for you.”

Mingyu looks down at that silly thing, then back up at Wonwoo. He needs more, and his patience is holding on by a withering thread. He wonders how Wonwoo would react if he were to turn him around to actually face him. To tell him those three words without mirrors or distance to hide behind. What would Wonwoo say? How would he react? If Mingyu were to lean in and lay soft kisses along his neck—freshly showered, as Mingyu can tell by whiffs of lavender soap—would Wonwoo pull away? Sometimes, Mingyu can’t see why Wonwoo would pull away and envisions their relationship blasting off like a shooting star. But, even stars eventually die. Mingyu knows they can’t live without the other, and that fact is the only thing strong enough to keep his selfish desires in check.

Mingyu thanks the other for the toothbrush and begins his morning routine.

He’s halfway through skincare when Wonwoo’s phone buzzes from the sink counter. He’s not trying to pry, and Mingyu is the last person Wonwoo keeps secrets from (apart from multiple relationships and his relapsing illness). Before he can stop himself, Mingyu’s eyes blink over and back in a flash. His curiously fizzles out in an instance: Oh, it’s just Joshua. Though, he thanks Joshua for whatever he texted him because it got a cute little grin and chuckle out of Wonwoo.

“Hey, look what Shua sent me.” Mingyu plays dumb and peeks over curiosity. He only saw the nice text from Joshua, not the picture attached, which makes him clench his jaw and Wonwoo coo. “God, it's almost annoying how beautiful of a family they are. To think Jeonghan damn near fucked it all up.” Wonwoo adds bitterly. “I'll never understand Josh's decision…”

When Mingyu sees it, his eyes are immediately drawn to one person; the younger of Joshua and Jeonghan’s two children: Vernon. 

It’s the next strongest thing that’s able to pull Mingyu’s thoughts from Wonwoo, but no less worrisome. Since he first met the young man when starting his job at Jeonghan’s cafe, he’s tried to ignore the impossibility. For the past (four/five)months, he’d tell himself he was just reminiscing, sad, and lonely. Losing the ones you love can flare up one’s peace of mind at any given day, and the ghost hidden in Vernon’s smile is a heavy toll indeed.

“Hana…” Breath Mingyu, barely catching the words himself. The frown turning Wonwoo’s lips shows that he heard him, too.

“Fuck…” Wonwoo’s smile drops and the gasp from his lips see’s the likeliness Mingyu sees. But, even then, “Gyu, It’s not her.”

And Mingyu knows that, he really does, just as he knows the heart and mind can think two different things. 

For instance, Mingyu could go about a day at work, conversing with Vernon as if it was just another Tuesday, then the slightest mannerism from the younger can send his brain in a spiral. Be it the quirk of his brow, the wholehearted way in which he smiles, or the shocked expression when their mischievous coworker, Beomgyu, scares him. Vernon is the spitting image of both his sister and the love of her life whom she perished with a lifetime ago.

It’s been over fifteen years, and Mingyu is ok to talk about it at this point, but this is different. It’s a conversation he’s had with Wonwoo on multiple occasions already, and they don’t get any easier.

“Mingyu? Do you want to talk about it?”

Mingyu forces a silent smile and shakes his head ‘no’. It’s very courteous of Wonwoo to offer, but there’s nothing that could be said that hasn’t been spoken before and Mingyu doesn’t feel like voicing such thoughts or emotions right now. He was just wallowing about Wonwoo three seconds ago, now he’s guiltily looking over his shoulder for any ounce of empty hope that he knows is not there. The whiplash is too much.

He steals a glance of Wonwoo’s screen just before it turns off when an idea hits him.

“It’s fine, Wonwoo, I’ll be ok. I’m gonna go pack up my last few things.” Mingyu turns his back and, when he’s out of view from Wonwoo, whips out his phone and goggles: ‘easy DNA tests’ . It’s the only way to be sure, and Mingyu feels equally as silly for having the idea as he does for not thinking of it until now.

+++

Chapter Text

MARCH 26.

His day starts in a bed that is not his own, but one he has become familiar with.

Senungkwan nestles deeper under the covers before tilting his chin up, his gaze fixed on another’s sleeping face. This man looks so beautiful, completely relaxed in supple sleep. Seungkwan couldn’t help but snuggle his naked body closer to the other. The coziness is so satisfying, another wave of sleep washes over his body.

And then, in what feels like no time at all, “ …ie… Kwannie. It’s 10AM, you have class in fourty-five minutes.”

Natural morning light fades into the darkness of his closed eyes, Seungkwan stretches under the comforter and lets a few satisfying groans escape. “How dare you wake me with such tragic news.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

Seungkwan rolls over onto his back and allows parts of his body to remain uncovered and on display. “What if there’s a better way to spend our morning?”

The man’s deep voice rumbles in a low chuckle. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. You shouldn’t have spent the night with a professor if you wanted to skip class.” Wonwoo reaches under the blankets and pulls Seungkwan’s arm.

“You hate me.”

“No, I don’t.”

Seungkwan dodges Wonwoo’s arms and curls into a tight ball, looking like a snowball with how the professor's comforter is wrapped around him. “You do, too.”

“Fine. You caught me.”

Seungkwan whips his head around in shock but is met with a sudden kiss. It’s soft, slow, and lasts long enough to steal away Seungkwan’s groggy train of thought. When Wonwoo pulls back, Seungkwan opens his eyes to see that sweet, little cat-like grin he had always loved.

“Somebody’s more needy than usual this morning.”

“Of course I am, can you blame me?” The student groans and falls back into the plush array of pillows. He takes a big breath to enjoy the fuzzy coziness and sinks deeper, because here, he isnable to smell Wonwoo’s shampoo on these pillows and his stomach does a flip. “I haven’t seen you since you left.”

“I was only gone for the weekend.”

“Yes, but I haven’t seen you in a week. I’m glad you had a somewhat decent time with your family, though. The pictures you sent were lovely, cherry blossoms are even more vibrant in the countryside than here in the city.”

From leering over Seungkwan, Wonwoo ever so slightly tilts his chin that creates a beautiful silhouette of his neck. The morning light glows behind the curtains, Suengkwan couldn’t help but pull out his phone and snap a picture.

“Hey!”

Wonwoo reaches for the phone but Seungkwan evades him, though not for long because his only tactic is to curl back into his ball. Wonwoo pokes and prods, causing wild giggles from Seungkwan, until the phone is finally in his hands. With it, he turns on the camera and starts taking pictures of Seungkwan.

“Agh! Come on this is different, I’m naked! Wo–Wonwoo–!”

Seungkwan lunges for his phone when suddenly it is casted away and Seungkwan finds himself right back to where he started: his back against the mattress with Wonwoo’s broad frame hovering over him. A small yet coy smile curls around Seungkwan’s lips and he nonchalantly reaches his arms up to wrap around Wonwoo’s neck while his legs follow below in tandem at his waist.

“I made a breakfast sandwich for you.” Wonwoo finally speaks, though slightly breathless. 

It’s not exactly what Seungkwan was expecting to come out of his mouth so, “Sounds good, but that’s not what I want right now.”

Hardly any strength is required for his arms to pull Wonwoo down to meet his lips. Seungkwan’s remembers a time so near where the thought of Wonwoo in his arms was inamagionable*. For years beyond counting, this has been all Seungkwan ever wanted.

After some time, Wonwoo sighs into the blissful kiss before lifting himself back up. “Okay, now you really have to go.”

“Come on,” Seungkwan lets out a soft wine and one of his hands slides down the other’s torso. “Ah, so you do want me just as badly as I want you.”

“I don’t want to do something as absurd as a quickie, and that’s all we’d have time for. I like to take my time being with you… don’t you?”

Suengkwan pouts while his heart flutters. The art of intimacy truly is one rich with intoxication. Seungkwan can not get enough of it. “Of course.”

“Will you be around this evening?” Seungkwan nods and Wonwoo pleasantly pats one of Seungkwan’s naked thighs. “If I can get away from Mingyu, I’ll call you, yeah?”

“O–Okay.”

“So,” Wonwoo lifts himself back to standing and gazing down at Seungkwan like some kind of god, “I’m gonna go take a cold shower. And no, you can’t join me.”

Seungkwan throws off the blanket and forces himself to stand. He hardly reaches the height of Wonwoo’s nose, but his persistence is unwavering when it comes to food. 

“You made me a bagel? What’s in it?”

“Bacon, egg, and cheese.”

“On what?”

“An everything bagel.”

Seungkwan’s heart swells, but instead he hums, apparently hardly interested. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll eat it since you went to the trouble of making it.”

Wonwoo sees right through the facade and quickly sneaks in a pinch at Seungkwan’s cheek before he has time to block it. 

10:45

Seungkwan makes it to class right in the nick of time, but when he sees the professor has not arrived yet, he curses these spare minutes for not being with Wonwoo.

“Hello? Helloooooo? Ground control to Major Kwannie?” 

Seungkwan blinks at the sudden snapping happening in front of his face. “A-Ah, sorry DK, what’d you ask?”

“Somebody’s out of it. I was talking about how we’re almost out of instant espresso, and if we should get the same one or try a different brand.”

“Oh, uh, I’ll go with whatever Hoshi wants.”

“That’s what he said.” DK says flatly. “Guess I shall be the beverage master this go-a-round.”

“I believe in you, buddy.”

Dokyeom smiles, but his usual happy go lucky charm is dampened some by worry. “Dude, the professor is gonna be here any second. You gonna be awake for this?”

“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” That’s the first half of the truth, and the second lies with his thoughts still linger; back to the apartment he spent the night in, back to Wonwoo. 

“Ah, the consequences of having an awesome brother like Vernon to come home to. How is everything back there? Is everything, you know, kinda getting back to normal?”

For a moment Seungkwan almost opens his mouth to question him until he remembers the lie he fed his roommate of going home last night.

  ‘Normal’, Seungkwan wants to roll his eyes, but the guilt of this white lie keeps him from doing so. Even in thought, however, the word hovers atop the tip of his tongue to where he can taste the artificial social construct. Sickening. “Mmm, not really. My parents are trying too hard to go back to what we were, which ends up making things weirder.”

“Oh.” DK frowns and tilts his head. “Well, did you at least get a good meal out of your visit home?”

Seungkwan evades the other’s intentful gaze by allowing his eyes to wander around his fellow chattering classmates in the lecture hall. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Will you be around this evening?”

“Will you be around this evening?”

Wonwoo asked the same thing this morning.

“Maybe, I might have to meet with my English lit. group.” Seungkwan lies, “I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, well if you were to have read the groupchat you’d read that Hoshi came into a delectable amount of product and proposed that the A.U. Boys should indulge, if you know what I mean…” DK giggles menacingly and Seungkwan knows exactly what he means. “Let's blast off to outer space, baby—it’s been ages since our last space session and we’re all so insanely stressed! We must let go of at least some of this tension!”

Seungkwan naturally wants to laugh, because he couldn’t agree with DK more. It’s another truth Seungkwan has to turn his cheek to, he misses his friends. Since the start of the semester, only a handful of times has the gang spent actual quality time together. Most of his interactions with them have been fleeting, and Seungkwan hates playing innocent like he isn’t a contributing factor to why.

Seungkwan opens his mouth, but the professor walks in, saving him from the guilt of spewing another ‘white’ lie. 

12:10

After the lecture, Seungkwan has an hour-long break before his next class. He was planning on doing some light studying at the library, because ‘Intro to Philosophy of Classical Art’ does not come easily to him, and DK promised he’d try and get some studying done, too. Seungkwan should have known other works were at play.

“ …RAHHH!”

“AHHMYFUCKINGOD! The hell, Hoshi?!”

Behind Seungkwan’s side of the booth, Hoshi and Dino erupt in fits of laughter, keeling over with only the support of each other to keep them from falling over. Seungkwan is not amused. 

“This. Is. A. Library. You guys—”

“U, the cafe section of the library, and literally everyone is  talking.” Scoffs Hoshi, who’s finally regaining his breath. He swings an arm around Dino and loosely jerks the kid around a bit. “Lighten up, pretty boy.”

Dino laughs and reaches over to ruffle Seungkwan’s hair but gets swatted away.  “I’ll buy you a coffee if you let us sit?”

“I already have a coffee.”

“Yogurt parfait?”

“Still full from breakfast.”

DK, sitting on the other side of the booth, scoots he and Seungkwan’s bags over and Dino gratefully takes the freed up space.

“Oh, Kwannie~” Hoshi singsongs, “Care to scoot yo boot?”Seungkwan doesn’t respond, only continues ‘studying’ so Hoshi takes the silence as a go ahead.

“Hey!”

“Come on, don’t be a tight ass. Besides, Chan and I have class in fifteen so we can’t stay long anyway. So, group space night? Kwannie, is Vernon free?”

“You have his number, who don’t you ask him?”

“But you were just home, I thought you’d have the inside scoop! What, is he not free? Wait, is he still seeing those two girls he met last year at the halloween party?”

DK cuts in, “Sana and Tzuyu were exchange students, they went back to their home countries already. We miss them dearly.”

“Okay, so why is he not free, then?”

Seungkwan flips the page of his text book, but he would never admit he’s not actually reading anything. “He has his own life, you know, and I never said he wasn’t.”

“Alirghty, so are you free for tonight? Pleassseeee? We’ve hardly seen each other all semester!”

“We literally live together.”

“Come on!”

Seungkwan doesn’t know who he’s fooling, because it is just as much fun for him to pick on Hoshi as it is for the guys to pick on himself (even if it doesn't happen as often). The whiney Hoshi who’s three seconds away from pitching a fit is what breaks Seungkwan’s suppressed smile.

“Okay, okay! Fine, I’m in! But, uh, I did just remember that Vernon is busy this evening, so yeah no need to message him.”

Hoshi jitters in his seat and wraps his arms around Seungkwan. “Yay! I’ll order us some pizza and nachos! Channie has ice cream at his dorm, so—”

“Wait, why is it always at my place?” Exclaims Dino.

“Because your dorm is bigger and I wanna see Jongho. Be honored.”

“Oooohhh I wanna see that kid, too.” agrees DK. “Last time he did edibles with us, he put on a whole ass concert! God, the pipes on that man…”

Seungkwan's heart sinks ever so slightly, because this is a memory he did not get to share with the others, yet it belonged to an unforgettable night nonetheless: 

Winter had just passed its peak, and Seungkwan’s head was all fuzzy with anxiety about what the hell is going on with his family. He told his roommates he was going home for the night, and that really was the plan, but then he found himself sneaking into the faculty apartments. His dad has stayed there many times so Seungkwan knew how to get in, and remembers his dad casually mentioning what apartment Wonwoo usually uses. 

At the time,Wonwoo hadn’t messaged him in days, so all of Seungkwan’s pint up anger and worry translated into his fist pounding on Wonwoo’s on-campus door. He didn’t even look surprised to see Seungkwan, it’s not the first time the kid showed up out of the blue, but it was the first time Seungkwan was invited in and didn’t leave. He only slept with one other person before, some silly high school boyfriend, but this was the first time expressing and receiving such intimacy. It was a first time waking up in the arms of someone else, and it was all a dream come true.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, Kwan’s been spacing out all morning. Haven’t you buddy?” DK says in baby-voice as he leans across the table in Seungkwan’s face.

“Oh hush, I have not.”

“Have to. Anyways, I gotta go. Text the details of tonight in the chat, k?”

With DK, Hoshi stands, too. “Yeah, I also gotta skedaddle. See y’all later! Kwan, you better be there or else.”

+++

20:13

WonWHO?:

I have some work I need to do so I’ll be 

coming back and staying the night

If you want to come by later…?

BooBooBear:

Hey! The guys hassled me into a movie night

at Chan’s so I don’t think I’ll make it over

WonWHO?:

Alrighty, no worries

BooBooBear:

I’m still down for your doctor’s appointment

This saturday ofc <3

WonWHO?:

Okay, I’ll see you then :)

Seungkwan slides his phone into his pocket and splashes some water onto his face. Lust has a funny way of igniting when trying to focus on other matters at hand. Like, having fun with his precious friends. Friends, one in particular, who would feel utterly betrayed if the truth behind Seungkwan’s recent absence was revealed. 

Splashing some cold water on his face, Seungkwan mentally prepares. He knows how ‘loose-lipped’ he gets when he is under any kind of inebriated influence, so he should probably consume a smaller amount of the edible than he usually would. 

Leaving the bathroom of the apartment-styled dorm room, Seungkwan sees Chan fretting over the music volume that Hoshi is refusing to turn down. At the other end of the living room is Dokyeom splayed out along the couch, chatting away with Channie’s roommate, Jongho. 

“Ah! Kwannie!” Hoshi pushes past Dino and jumps to Seungkwan’s side. “Do you have any pizza topping requests?”

The beat of the music drifts up through Seungkwan’s body—Hoshi has been on a Billie Eilish binge recently—and he knows it’s going to be a great night. “Hmmmm, sausage? Oh! Banana peppers!”

“OOOO! I got it! Lets make a rainbow pizzaaaaa!”

“FUCK YES!”

For the next fifteen minutes, the group of boys gather around the table and debate what toppings fulfill the ‘rainbow pizza’. The final results are such:

R – Pepproni

O – Orange bell pepper

Y – Banana pepper

G – Spinach

…And that’s when they all tackled DK to the floor for his blasphemes, veggie-loving, tree-hugger idea. They ordered a ‘meat lovers’ pizza and called it a night.

“So now that that’s been handled,” Hoshi excitedly hurries over a rather large plate with a pretty emerald green ceramic cloche covering, “time for the main event…”

In a dramatic fashion, Hoshi lifts the cloche to reveal dark purple squares of thick, sizable…

“Brownies?” Asks Chan, unable to look away.

“But they’re purple. Why?” Adds Seokmin. 

“Becasue what you’re staring at are my cousin’s latest batch of cannabis ube brownies!”

The boys ‘ooo’ and ‘aahhh’, and Seokmin asks, “Wait, the cousin who’s mom is a politician?”

“Nah, his ass would have another way to outer space if he so much as looked at these beauties. Anyway, half should do the trick. Chan, here, be my other half.”

Seungkwan scoffs and makes a knowing sort of eye contact with DK before reaching for a brownie.

“Jongho, you want to take one to your boyfriend?”

The guy looks over curiously and has interest written all over his face. “Actually, that sounds fun. I feel bad though, I don’t want to enjoy your brownies without you guys.”

“It’s fine. We single-folk are sympathetic to the values of ‘date nights’ right before midterms. Here, I insist.” At that, Hoshi runs over to the counter and gets a plastic baggie he throws a hefty brownie in. “Bon appetit.”

Jongho graciously accepts and puts the goodie in his bag. “Help yourself to any of the snacks on my side of the pantry. I own you one!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of some way to cash that in.” Hoshi says with a menacing tone, one that puts a hint of alarm in Jongho’s eye. “Have fun tonight! Sex when you’re high is amazing. Be gay, do crime!”

The rest of the boys hoot and holler as Jongho valiantly gathers his things and leaves the dorm.

“Okay! Pizza should be here in twenty, so if we eat the brownie now then the party should be kickin’ in by the time it gets here!”

21:00

‘Life. Is. Good.’ Seungkwan releases a freeing sigh as he nestles further into the beanbag chair, a second helping of pizza and nachos in hand. As Hoshi predicted, the boy’s high hit them as the delivery man rang their doorbell, and that first bite lifted Seungkwan to a beautiful, simple world. Up here, Seungkwan is too far to hear any of those scary things anxiety likes to whisper in his ear.

“Oh, Kwannie, why are you so adorable?”

Seungkwan laughs and fights for balance when Dokyeom plops right into the beanbag with him. 

“My father told me that I had an obsession with tangerines when I was little and ate so many, it got into my blood stream—my genetics. That’s why I have such round cheeks.”

They both burst out in a laughter that’s so consuming, tears are squeezed out. God, Seungkwan has missed this. All semester, he’s been too focused on the shit with his family, everything happening with Wonwoo, maintaining good grades in college… Was it really so impossible to put some kind of priority on his friends?

“Seok, I’m sorry I’ve been a bit, um…”

“Distant?” DK guesses. 

Seungkwan nods and lays his head on Seokmin’s shoulder. “Yeah. A lot has been going on, I guess, but isn’t it like that with everyone? Everyone is always dealing with someone, right, how do they manage it all?”

A low hum rises from Seokmin’s throat, and he pulls a supple Seungkwan closer to his body. “Life is always going to be full of shit, but it’s those ugly things that make the beauty in life all the more something to be cherished, no? Also, the closer I get to adulthood, and the more adults I encounter as an ‘adult’, I’m starting to think that, no, no one really is able to ‘manage it all’. All we can do is try to be good people and not to hurt others. Are you a good person, Kwan?”

“I—I would like to think I am. Yes?”

“Mhm! I know you are! And are you hurting anyone?”

Without thinking, Seungkwan glances over at Chan, who’s watching Hoshi dance in the light of the galaxy projector with pizza in his mouth. “I… I hope I’m not.”

“You’re so dramatic. Do you need another bite of that brownie? Get out of your head, man! My point is that if you can answer ‘yes’ to those two questions, that means you’re doing the best you can right now and that is enough!”

‘That is enough… That is enough…’

Seungkwan lets Seokmin’s words wrap around him like a soft blanket. “Thanks, I’m really gonna think on that and let it sink in. I love Philosophical Seok.”

“Philosophical Seok loves you, too.”

21:57

It all started with ‘Red Wine Supernova’ by Chappell Roan, and when Hoshi queued up ‘Good Luck, Babe!’ , the karaoke session was in full motion. 

The Chappell Roan fad was soon switched over with ‘Candy in my Ear’, and the spirits were maintained at a steady chant when ABBA’s ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ came next.

For the rest of the hour before quiet-hours kicked in at 22:00 sharp, the boys moved through the emotions of Billie Eilish, luxuriousness of Beyonce, and the nostalgia of 80’s radio summer hits medley. Which brings the gang to…

“Every now and then I fall apart!

And I need you now tonight,

And I need you more than ever!

And if you only hold me tight,

We’ll be holding on forever!”

According to the time, ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ will serve as a fitting grand finale, so Seungkwan closes his eyes and belts his heart out to enjoy these last few minutes.

22:52

“What movie do we wanna watch?” Seungkwan hears Chan ask as he floats his way into the bathroom. It is the greatest piss to ever happen to him, and Seungkwan can’t remember a time as of recently that he has been this happy.

When Seungkwan washes his hands, he splashes some cold water on his warm face and looks up in the mirror.

“Well, well, well…” He hopes he looks as hot as he feels, because while one spare hand rises to tease at the hem of his shirt, the other is getting his phone out of his pocket to take a pic or two.

He sends them to his first round of clearance.

D*-*K:

OK SEXY ASS

😮‍💨

LOVE.

Ok that lighting is great, remind me

 to take some pics too tonight lol

BooBooBear:

💖💖💖

Perfect. All the validation Seungkwan needs to send them over to the final boss.

Less than a minute goes by before his pictures are read, and it’s a few more minutes before Wonwoo responds.

WonWHO?:

Wow… You look great

Really, really incredible

High on confidence, happiness, and edibles, Seungkwan giggles and takes off his shirt before turning around to sit on the bathroom counter to take a couple more selfies. He angles the camera close to his face but makes it obvious that he’s not wearing much, and in the corner of the frame one can see part of his bare back.

WonWHO?:

Kwan, you’re killing me…

Sending these kinds of things when I’m

not going to see you for the next few days…

Cruel

BooBooBear:

You’re such a baby

Are you still on campus?

WonWHO?:

Yeah, I just finished some work but I’m

too tired to drive home

BooBooBear:

Stay up another hour for me, will you?

Seungkwan can practically hear the giggle through the screen of his phone, but maybe that’s just him.

WonWHO?:

What are you planning?

You better not be teasing me…

BooBooBear:

You’ll have to wait and see~

00:10

This time, as Seungkwan predicted, not even an hour into *movie* and the guys are knocked out cold. It is a miraculous power not to get sleepy when watching a movie high (with the exception of the horror genre), of course Seungkwan is going to wield such a (power/…). In a way, this is the best because Seungkwan is able to get the best of both worlds tonight: Quality time with his friends, and Wonwoo.

BooBooBear:

Still awake?

WonWHO?:

Yeah, just watching Grey’s Anatomy

Just got to season 8

Seungkwan holds in a chuckle  and shakes his head. ‘God, what an old man.’

The lights in the dorm are already turned off, with the exception of the T.V. and galaxy projector, so Seungkwan has to be extra careful not to step on anything or anyone as he sneaks around the dorm. Bag and shoes clutched to his chest, the mission is a success when he ever-so-delicately slips into the hallway without making a peep.

The crisp night air is welcomed and pleasantly sobering, Seungkwan feels the heat of his cheeks fight through the late spring breezes as he maneuvers throughout campus. 

Ever since Hoshi mentioned that sex when you’re high is ‘amazing’, the thought has been dancing rather loudly in the back of his mind all night. The closer he gets to the staff apartments, the hotter his body becomes. He had his fun with the guys, now Seungkwan’s mind runs miles at the thought of Wonwoo. He wants him so badly, the phantom touch of his most intimate memories with the man are hitting a little too hard and reminding Seungkwan that, yes, he is still wonderfully high.

Seungkwan is panting for more reasons than one when he reaches Wonwoo’s apartment, the kid leans on the frame and knocks. When Wonwoo opens the door, it seems he is more surprised by the state of Seungkwan than seeing the kid himself. Happy, nonetheless.

“Kwannie? I thought you weren’t going to—”

In a needy gasp, Seungkwan throws his arms around Wonwoo’s neck and their lips collide. Wonwoo is quick to catch on and wraps one arm around Seungkwan waist to whirl him inside, and the other to close the door. 

‘I want to take my time with you,’ Wonwoo had once said, but this is not that. Seungkwan is too impatient to delve into such slow delicacies, this is burning. 

In their previous times together, Wonwoo has slowly, beautifully plucked through several layers of reserve one by one as he and Seungkwan get more familiar with one another’s bodies. Now, the once nervous-butterflies that usually flutter around in Seungkwan’s stomach have since burned away in his daring desires. His hands freely roam about Wonwoo’s body and tears away anything that gets in the way. He’s glad and it’s thrilling at how easily Wonwoo is matching Seungkwan’s craving. It makes him wonder if this is what Wonwoo has wanted all along.

Their torso’s are stripped of hoodies and shirts by the time they stumble into the bedroom. Wonwoo is sloppily kissing up along Seungkwan’s neck as Seungkwan undoes his belt and jeans.

“God,” gasps Wonwoo, “You’re—you’re so daring tonight. Where did my sweet, little Kwannie go?”

Locking eyes, Seungkwan pushes the other away with a playful smile and steps backwards until the bed buckles the backs of his knees and he plops down. “I’d say he didn’t go anywhere, just got more curious.”

Wonwoo slowly approaches, the closing proximity heavies his gaze, until he is standing directly in between Seungkwan splayed out legs. “What are you curious about?”

Seungkwan needs no invitation to allow his hands to slide and wander along Wonwoo’s torso; to feel the softness of the man’s stomach upon his lips and taste his golden skin.

“I’m not against it, but what’s going on with you tonight? It’s cute.” Wonwoo asks more directly.

“I’m not trying to be cute.” Seungkwan hums into Wonwoo’s bellybutton. “I’ve just had a lot of fun with my friends, and you know how college kids are… Drinking and eating things they’re not supposed to…”

“Wait, are you… high? ”

Wonwoo’s stomach tightens slightly before he steps backwards, but not before he cups Seungkwan’s cheek in his hand.

“A bit, yes, but a lot of it has worn off. I feel so happy and light, and I want this— I want you so badly, Wonwoo.” Seungkwan slowly blinks up at the older man and nestles his cheek into that warm palm of his. “I’m completely in my mind. Please.”

Seungkwan’s heart is beginning to sink until a lowly laugh sounds from Wonwoo’s chest. “God, it’s been ages since I’ve had cannabis. Sex when you’re high is quite fun, you know.”

Seungkwan pouts, because the last thing he wants right now is to be reminded of Wonwoo’s sexual history. “So I’ve heard. Now, help me find out how fun it is, will you?”

“Alright, I can do that…” Wonwoo lowers himself to his knees, his hands sliding down Seungkwan’s shoulders, arms, clutching over his fingers. “Let me know if there’s anything you’re not in the mood for, or if you wanna stop all together.” 

Seungkwan finds the idea incomprehensible, but appreciates the sentiment nonetheless. When he nods a confirmation, Wonwoo connects their lips once more, this time for a deeper, more drawn out kiss that is entirely consuming. To catch his breath, Seungkwan lets his head fall back and his entire body is elevated. 

He sighs into the way Wonwoo litters his chest with kisses and nibbles, every nerve in his body is spinning so happily and screaming this man’s name. Seungkwan falls back onto the bed as Wonwoo ventures lower, and closes his eyes with a satisfied smile. The real world can wait for tomorrow, because right now Seungkwan is happy and falling in love.

+++

ELEVEN YEARS AGO. MARCH. RECESS.

“Seungkwan, stop it!”

But Seungkwan keeps on messing with Vernon’s hair, laughing as he pulls the curly locks until they’re straight, then letting them go to bounce back. Chan is doing a poor job at suppressing his giggles which doesn’t help Vernon’s case.

“I said cut it out!” 

Vernon swats away Seungkwan’s hand only to get a smack back, thus blooming into a slapping fight that Chan quickly tries to defuse. 

“Ugh, you guys! Ms. Kang is gonna put you both in time-out again! Quit it!”

It’s true. Just because the kids are outside at recess doesn’t mean they don’t have Ms. Kang’s hawk eye on them. These days, it feels like she’s always watching them, and it makes Seungkwan nervous. It feels like she and all the adults are waiting for him and his brother to get in trouble, because that’s all they are. Everyone says it, at least that’s what he heard some of his classmates’ parents tell each other. They say it’s because he and Vernon are adopted, but Seungkwan can’t see why that even matters when they have parents who love them nonetheless. Speaking of parents, It’s the kids fault for treating them differently ever since they found out he and Vernon have two dads. Or maybe, they treat them differently ever since Vernon said something about a classmate’s uncle, but it turned out that uncle was dead which made things kinda creepy, and—and then… Gosh, Seungkwan doesn’t remember. Again, he doesn’t know why everyone cares so much and gets upset at them. Everyone except Chan.

Seungkwan drops his hands and shrinks in on himself, feeling a little less proud of Chan’s frown than he was of his giggles. Vernon, on the other hand, goes back to his crouching spot where he was practicing writing cursive in the dirt and then whipping it away. Seungkwan peeks over and scoffs because his own cursive is much prettier. So, he kneels next to his brother and shows him what he’s got. Maybe give him a pointer or two—

But Vernon stops and lifts his finger, turns his back to Seungkwan, then continues writing. Seungkwan rolls his eyes and they land on Chan, who merely shrugs and waddles over to Vernon’s other side. 

“Who’s Tae?”

“ …A friend.”

Seungkwan groans, because by the way his brother said ‘friend’, he knows what kind.

“Noonie, dad said you gotta stop talkin’ about your imaginary friends—”

“They’re not imaginary! They were real people, too, ya know!”

Chan plops down next to them—Seungkwan cringes a bit because now he’s totally gonna get the dust from the ground on his butt— and tilts his head as Vernon finishes the other half of the name ‘ —hyung’ .

“He was a real person?” Chan asks.

“Is a real person,” Vernon corrects, “but not everyone can see him anymore.”

“Oooohhhhhh,” Chan says in awe, “That’s neat. Where is he? Is he here right now?”

“No. He’s with daddy. He follows him around sometimes. He says he was a friend of daddy’s, but he doesn’t want me to—oh! Um, I mean, n–nevermind…” Vernon’s little crouch somehow gets smaller and he quickly whips the name away. 

Honestly, the only thing in that sentence that makes Seungkwan scrunch his nose is that his brother is still calling their parents ‘daddy’, because they’re almost nine for Christ sake! ‘We’re not babies!’  

“Can you tell him to come over here? I wanna try to see him, too!” Vernon shakes his head ‘no’, which makes their friend start whining.

Seungkwan shuffles over and starts messing with Vernon’s hair again. It’s soft and pretty in a different way from his own. At home, Vernon lets Seungkwan put it up in little pig tails. Seungkwan thinks Vernon shouldn’t be so shy. Anyway, as expected, Vernon jumps to his feet with balled up fists and puffed up cheeks.

“Kwannie, I said stop!” 

The mischief in Seungkwan bubbles to a laugh and the boy takes off in a run with his brother chasing after him, and Channie after him. 

Seungkwan really does think it’s cool when Vernon talks about ghosts and stuff, but he is starting to understand why dad thinks he needs to stop. He’s learning that sometimes, there are things you can’t talk about in front of others. The other kids have been really mean to Vernon lately, and that makes Seungkwan more mad than when they’re mean to himself. 

+++

Chapter Text

It was dark, the sun went down long ago, and that was the last thing Chan remembers. But now, there is a white light piercing through his eyelids. He tries to squeeze them tighter, confused why the human race couldn’t have developed a thicker eyelid gene by now in evolution. 

Along with the light, noise around him fades in and out, then it takes a moment too long to realize he is moving. Well, more like rolling, on something hard, and there’s strange numbness that paints over the colors of pain he suffered through earlier. Breathing still hurts, yet human instinct.

“ …no… Chan! Please—Please wake up!”

Chan feels himself shift as he rounds a corner, and taps into what miniscule strength he has left to open his eyes. The looming walls, tiled ceiling, light fixtures are all white as clouds, only somehow more 2-D. But that is not the first thing Lee Chan notices when his vision decides to focus. It is his best friend’s face looking down at him that his vision focuses on. His face is all upset, splotchy and wet, and he’s quite out of breath. Probably from all the talking he’s doing, or running alongside the gurney. Probably both.

“Oh, Chan, stay awake, can you do that for me? Please keep your eyes open—you’re gonna be okay, okay? Th–they’re taking you to surgery and–and I’ll see you after, but you just have to hold on a bit longer…! Chan!”

The painkillers and drugs coursing through Chan’s body makes it hard for him to put a cohesive thought together, or feel Soonyoung’s hand clutching onto his own, but it’s there. All he has to do is ever so slightly look down and see the deathgrip Soonyoung has on him, and Chan feels a smile in his chest.

“Ho…s-shi…” He speaks through heavy gasps, “You’re r–really…here?” Life feels real and not real at the same time, like some kind of strange lucid dream.

Soonyoung smiles and his red cheeks look so fluffy, his eyes sweet and narrow. “Yes, Channie. I’m sorry, I was so late to get to you, but I’m not gonna leave you again —I’ll be here the whole time!”

Chan moves his wrist to feel Soongyoung’s hand in his own and holds him in his eyes. “Listen, please…”

MARCH 28. 08:33

Vernon wakes and his head feels like it’s on fire. The walls around him are spinning, and the floor feels like it may be in cahoots with the ceiling on switching places.The same mysterious force that is beating at any remaining sense of gravity Vernon has is also riling up the bail rising in his throat. Still, through all this, the boy is panicked about one thing.

No…No…! Not yet!

Already his dream is beginning to fade, and Vernon blindly grabs at the notebook and pencil laying atop his nightstand and begins furiously jotting down the dissolving details of his dream.

“White lights… walls—a hospital?” Vernon talks back his own notes. “There was another person there, holding my hand—the man’s hand… Who was it that was there?” He remembers a familiar warmth of touch, and the second hand love he felt blooming in his chest when seeing this person’s face. A man? Woman? “Mystery person with S.O.J…” Subject of Dream. His pencil stills when he tries to remember what came before, and what came after. Instead, the cruel mockery of deja vu strikes him once more.

Frustrated, Vernon’s hand trembles by the ferocious grip he has on his pen.

Not again…!

Because Vernon has dealt with this bizarre happening before; A nightmare so intense it shakes him to his core, then when he wakes up the details dissolve faster than his pen.

Pailing voices have run their echo’s course, and in less than a minute since waking up they have already reduced to less than a whisper. Vernon is too tired and distracted by the defeat to notice any knocking on his door.

“Noonie? Is everything okay?”

Before Vernon is able to respond, his bedroom door gently opens and in peeks his father’s head, haloed by his usual amicable soft silver aura. It takes less than one second before sparks of bright orange worry overwhelms the softness.

As the door swings fully open, Jeonghan treads in with outstretched arms. “Honey, what happened? You’re white as a ghost and drenched in sweat!”

“Um, I—I think I had another night terror…” 

The father scans his son once more and his weariness intensifies. “Vernon, you’re getting these—these terrors more and more frequently… I think it’d be a good idea to talk to your therapist. Maybe, even your psychiatrist.” Jeonghan sits on the bed in response to Vernon’s blatant hesitance and begins to gently rub his back. “This isn’t healthy, baby.” 

Vernon doesn’t want to admit it, but he knows his father is right in the sense of whatever the hell that is happening is not healthy. He feels gross, sickly, the dissonance in his body is strange and abnormal. But, seeing a therapist and being honest about his otherworldly circumstances would be a one way ticket to the loony bin. 

I’m not crazy… I’m not…

“Okay, father, I’ll give her a call.” Vernon keeps his eyes on the blanket to conceal the lie, trying to refocus his fuzzy vision, and ignore his father’s stare. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

The hot water undoes his spent mind, which soon falls quiet like a still pond. The only thing Vernon has to worry about within these four walls is to wash, putting himself back together. When Vernon steps out of the shower, his body feels refreshed, but his head carries a lingering daze that will surely take at least a couple more hours to rid.

In his room, remnants of familiar silver lingers along the new, crisp sheets on his bed and surrounding the notebook placed in the middle. Amidst the frantic scribbles and his father coming in, Vernon must have forgotten to tuck it away in the drawer of his nightstand. Looking at his bedside clock, it couldn't have been more than an hour ago, but the concept of time isn’t quite registering through his current state. Still, he berates himself for such a careless mistake. He has been so careful up until now, but never before has had such a violent…vision? Vernon doesn’t know what words can describe these sorts of things, but now they are getting worse and it’s getting harder to conceal.

Vernon begins to worry about what his father could have seen and brushes his fingertips along the journal. 

No, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, because maybe my father actually respects my privacy and didn’t open it.

Vernon isn’t halfway through that thought before the disbelief begins clawing at his insides. To anyone who doesn’t know the truth of what is happening to Vernon, the inside of that notebook would look like the scrawlings of a madman.

But Vernon mustn’t jump to conclusions.

Steadily, Vernon changes into his usual hoodie and Adidas sweat pants, then heads to the kitchen. His father’s back is to him when Vernon enters and sits at the barstool of their kitchenette. When Jeonghan turns around, Vernon’s sudden appearance causes him to jump and squeak out a swear.

“Christ, Vernon! I didn’t hear you come in!” Vernon only stares as his father laughs to calm himself down. “How was your shower? Are you feeling better?”

“I am. Thanks for making my bed.”

“Of course, honey.”

Vernon waits for Jeonghan to bring up the notebook, or at least bring up more ‘therapy-talk’ that could segway into it, but all he does next is slide a bowl over the counter that is filled with beautiful fruits and colors.

“Last time, I remember you couldn’t eat the breakfast I had for you. So I made something a bit lighter: a smoothie bowl. Please, at least take a couple of bites.”

An array of strawberry and banana slices, sprinkled blueberries, and an inviting clump of raspberries with coconut shreds scattered about the colorful, icy-smooth texture of smoothie. It looks delicious, perfect even, but Vernon’s mind is too preoccupied to take it in. The son mutters his thanks and submerges his spoon into the frozen purple smoothie. A raspberry tumbles onto his spoon before it rises to his mouth.

“Vernon, if you want to talk about what it is that might be haunting your dreams, I’m here for you. I hope you know that I will always be here for you, and will never judge you.”

Vernon nods, waiting for the built up anticipation stuck in his father’s throat to reveal itself. Seeing his father in such a state so easily concealed by his supple face is unnerving to Vernon, and he forces himself to take another bite, tasting nothing.

“Honey, do you remember that night after trivia last year when you, um… came to realize what had happened? What I did, I mean.”

In the stoicness of Vernon’s chewing, his heart beats harder and harder. “I don’t know, kind of? That night was a big blur.”

“You had a really hard fight with your brother, then you called me…”

Of course Vernon remembers, can’t his father see he’s already distressed from a horrible morning? Why is he bringing this up?! The last thing Vernon wants in his current state is to be reminded of anything involving that night. Not the vision of infidelity he saw when he hugged his father, or the strange, dark aura that was consuming Wonwoo from the inside. His father’s voice drones in and out as everything comes rushing back.

“Please, father… Please stop. My head hurts.”

But he doesn’t. The quietness is left outside with Jeonghan. Inside, Vernon relives the look of fear in his brother’s eye when he asked about Wonwoo— “I think something is happening…it’s bad, you have to trust me” — and he feels torn apart all over again. Because, that’s the same way his father is looking at Vernon, now. Will Jeonghan grow angry like Seungkwan did?

Vernon jumps to his feet and the anxiety boils over into frustration. “I’ll be okay, alright? Can’t you please believe me for once?! I said I’m going to call my therapist, and my psychiatrist, so please just—just—stop acting like everything is back to the way things were and leave me the hell alone!”

“Vernon?”

Through the hallway appears his dad, voice equal parts confused and stern. 

“Don’t yell at your father.”

Vernon didn’t realize how close he was to his tipping point until his dad’s scold pushed him over the edge. His feet dash out of the door, and his eyes squeeze shut as hard as he is praying for the tears to stop; for his chest not to feel like it’s caving in on itself, and his own little world to not be against him. The door didn’t close behind him, and he can distantly hear his father reprimand his dad.

Vernon runs as fast as he could, house slippers lost along the way. It’s still just morning, where was the time for everything to go so wrong? A gloomy morning at that, Vernon comes to realize, and looks up pleadingly at the trees above. The once bare branches have started getting their leaves back, and there’s a hint of pliable innocence in how they sway to the winds of an angry sky. 

Running feet slow, slow…and then stops. At the bottom of the hill from the park, he can’t move. He doesn’t look around, his eyes are unable to stray anywhere else except where he’s standing on the ground. Dread breaks from the earth and crawls up his legs, pulling him to sink deeper and deeper into dead-cold hopeless fear.

“Please, no…” A voice that is not Vernon’s speaks through him, claiming Vernon’s lips as its own. “Am I… alone?” 

His mind spins back through the windless trees, chirping birds, and empty playground. What he does feel is anticipation as his world holds its breath, waiting for… Well, what is there to know? How does he figure it out? When the mind and body disconnects and all that’s left is a kind of shell, it’s hard to make anything make sense.

“Wh… What do I do?” It hurts to speak, but he’s scared. He battles against his shaky breaths for deeper ones and tries to listen past that racing heart of his. 

Nothing. His thoughts beat him to question the obvious, and terrifying empty truth: Am… A-Am I… alone?

Tears blurs his vision to a glassy state that keeps replenishing itself no matter how many times he tries to blink them away.

…Alone…

Just then, a car rounds the corner too quickly for Vernon to register. He whips his head around in a gasp—instinct freezing like a deer because he knows it’s too late— but then something pushes him out of the way and he falls onto the grassy area of the dirt-roadside.

His face hurts, his head is throbbing, but the trance is broken.

“Fuck,” Vernon grumbles, and rolls over to his side with wobbly arms. He feels so disconnected with his body, he almost faceplants into a puddle but manages to catch himself. Blame it on the muddy, shallow water or the dark overcast, but when Vernon’s eyes fix on that very puddle he sees a reflection that doesn’t belong to him, though one familiar.

…Chan?

“Vernon! Vernon!”

It’s his father hollering after him, steps slapping against the pavement from his run. In less than a moment, Jeonghan is at Vernon’s side aggressively hugging and inspecting his muddy self.

“Father, I’m fine. I just fell, is all.”

Vernon was slowly sitting himself up, but it isn’t quick enough to Jeonghan’s standards and the parent takes matters into his own hands.

Jeonghan’s lips move too quickly and suddenly for Vernon to process. “What is going on?” The father commands. “Tell me.” 

Vernon’s eyes go wide and his mind blank as he stares back at his father. Every emotion in the world could be found in those eyes, but Vernon never thought he’d see something as far away and unrecognizable. Never has he felt so petrified to speak.

“Now.”

“I… I…”

“Please,” Jeonghan begs, his aura a mix of hot anger and deep blue sadness, “just tell me, Vernon!”

And before Vernon can stop himself, he blurts out, “I can see things! Things… people probably aren’t supposed to see…”

Jeonghan stares, unmoving, unblinking, Vernon doesn’t know how long for because he is trapped in staring back.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, and I can't explain it, but…” It is impossible to find the words when all he can see is the unreadable expression of his father.

“When you were little, every now and then you would tell us about a person you met, but… we were never able to see them.” The grip of Jeonghan’s hands on Vernon’s arms lessen, sliding down until they are resting at their sides. “Might this be like that?”

Vernon is thrown by the gentle, shaky whisper of a voice. “I don’t remember that.” It’s true, he has no recollection of meeting any ghosts or wandering souls or spirits alike.

“Well, you were very young, and your dad took it very seriously. I thought it was just ‘imaginary friends’, but on another note, it’s not entirely uncommon for young children to see past a veil or two between this world and  whatever else there is out there. But your dad didn’t like when you talked about those things, and eventually you stopped.”

“Oh.” Whether it’s a conjuring of his imagination, or a distant memory, Vernon can feel the phantom touch of his dad cupping his cheeks, and hear the faint distress in his voice. “Well, I guess this is different from that sort of thing. I can see other people's auras, and I can decipher their emotions. When I come into contact with someone, sometimes their thoughts flow into me like they’re my own, and this happens with memories, too.” Vernon takes a deep breath in, and out. “That’s how I found out about your affair. When you hugged me that night, you must have been thinking about that man, because in mere seconds I watched you fall in love… Father?”

Something shifts—a furrow in his brow, the quiver on his lip, the void of uncertainty blooming in Jeonghan’s eyes. His aura blooms a myriad of colors Vernon is becoming too frantic to decipher and a cold chill washes over him. 

He did it. ‘The cat’s out of the bag’ as the saying goes, and the repercussions are sinking in before his very eyes. In just five seconds, everything has changed.

It's too much.

“No…” Vernon doesn’t need his father to say anything for him to regret it all. He shakes his head and backs away; away from those far away eyes that used to shine all the love of the world for Vernon, his child. Now, Vernon feels like some wild beast unknown. As the seconds go by, his fate becomes more unpredictable and the pain in his chest intensifies tenfold. It's too much! Something snaps inside Vernon. “…No!”

The breeze around becomes a strong gust that pushes and pulls. It picks up leaves and sends them flying all over, a sudden chaos quick to (organize/…) and encircle Vernon. His eyes dart everywhere, but it's hard to focus or even keep them open when debris is hitting him in the face from all over. Another wave of gusto brings Vernon to his feet and he squeezes his eyes shut, the wind has one final push to give.

With the darkness of his vision, everything quiets and the world is finally still. 

“Christ, Vernon! I didn’t hear you come in!” Slowly, and unsurely, Vernon opens his eyes to see his father's slightly winded, but lethargically amused expression as he dramatically clutches his chest. “How was your shower? Are you feeling better?”

Vernon is back home, wearing the slippers that flew off his feet, in the clothes he dirtied with his fall but are now again clean, and staring at the father he had mortified. Vernon stares, and tilts his head in confusion

Except, Jeonghan is in no such state and his face couldn't be further from the pain or fear Vernon last closed his eyes to.

“Last time, I remember you couldn’t eat the breakfast I had for you. So I made something a bit lighter: a smoothie bowl. Please, at least take a couple of bites.”

Vernon knows the contents of the bowl before Jeonghan slides it over. He knows the taste before even taking a bite.

“Noonie?” The father gently asks, “Do you want to sit down?” 

Feeling like a doll, Vernon cautiously obliges. 

“Vernon, if you want to talk about what’s haunting your dreams, I’m here for you. I will always be here for you, and will never judge you.”

It's that look, the one that only a parent could provide that Vernon didn't realize how much he needed until it was too late—thought it was too late… He must have missed it last time, but now Vernon is able to see all of his fathers love for him. It shows him that maybe everything will be okay.

“Father?”

“Yes, honey?” 

“I’m sorry… I love you.”

Jeonghan rounds the table and pulls Vernon in for a much needed hug. “Oh, Noonie, there's nothing you need to apologize for. I know this year has been hard, it's not easy feeling like you need to be strong all the time. Honey I love you so, so much and am so proud of you.” 

Vernon cannot risk this, no matter what. He squeezes tighter in his father’s embrace, and all the walls he cast around himself melt away. He doesn’t remember the source of his formerly harbored animosity, and it feels utterly silly to try and remember. All he wants is for his father to hold him, take care of him, delve into laughter on memory lane and take in any advice the man gives him. Jeonghan has always been there for Vernon, yet he sought out isolation. 

‘Why?’

Silently, tears begin to stream down Vernon's cheeks and Jeonghan’s embrace tightens. 

Anything can happen in the blink of an eye, and it can change your life even easier. When it does, there is truly no going back. 

But, then he did…?

Acceptance is a heavy thing with no room for miracles or fairy tales. Chan’s heart drops in his anguish. 

‘Chan…’ Vernon thanks to himself. “ …Chan!”

And suddenly all at once, the holes in his visions-dreams-memories or whatever you want to call it are filled in with the face of his dear friend like a puzzle piece that finally found its way back.

He has a lot to tell Minghao when he calls him tonight.

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